m!a: fem!tony

kigichi  asked:

Natasha Stark with cellulite and disproportionate breasts and cracked fingernails (from all of her hard work) and chipped toenail polish (because fuck shoes) who likes to wear her hair in a messy bun on most days. The press manages to get a photo of her when she's not all dolled up and perfect and they crucify her for it. To them, she's ugly. To Steve she's never been more beautiful.

I love this so much, this is so great. 

Natasha isn’t really bothered by the negative comments and articles because she’s dealt with negativity from the press all of her life. She’s also not going to fall into the idea of being the Ideal Woman and she continues being who she is because it’s comfortable and it makes her happy. 

Steve also finds her incredible beautiful, no matter what, and finds all the articles bashing Natasha’s beauty and makes a bonfire out of them. They all gather around and roast marshmallows, Natasha snuggled against Steve as Steve holds her close. 

The next time the press try to take a picture of her not dolled up, she sticks out her tongue and flips them the bird. 

That picture is one of Steve’s favorites. 

Fem! Tony headcanon

Steve refuses to curse in a lady’s presence, and that extends to the battlefield. His wife, “Toni” Stark, curses whenever she likes and doesn’t give a damn what people think.

When they first started dating, Toni found it a bit frustrating that even though Steve had no problem with cursing around the guys, he’d refuse to curse if a female Avenger was in attendance. For some strange reason it bothered Toni a bit. She simultaneously thought of it as sexist and as charming. She had to remind herself that Steve was from the 40’s and that custom had forever been drilled into his brain, so Toni decided she’d let it go.

Then they started sleeping together… Toni had been in shock to find that her Steve had a filthy mouth in bed–a mouth that would put even a sailor to shame. Finding it incredibly sexy, Toni encouraged him not to hold back, and as a result he’d even occassionally make her blush.

Even now that the two were married, Steve still refused to curse infront of her outside of the bedroom, which Toni found a little hypocritical but even more amusing.

Now whenever Steve chastises any of the guys about their language–to Steve’s disdain and everyone else’s confusion– Toni never fails to burst out laughing.

(I don’t know any dirty talk, so if someone were to depict this in a fic I’d love them forever and be at their mercy!)

anonymous asked:

Could you write something about Nat and Tasha Stark? Pretty Please

[[ I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE! Sorry about the delayed response, my love! The holidays and work swallowed me up. Also I went with “Toni” Stark instead of Natasha only because my brain imploded trying to figure out how to distinguish them. XD ]]

“You are…Better than I expected.” Natasha confesses softly, her body moving in a sinuous, deadly rhythm she knows like breathing. Across from her, Toni grins, sharp and her eyes are hard, glittering blue.
“I was the daughter of a millionaire weapons designer.” She murmurs, and her face is vicious, her smile a predatory bearing of teeth. Natasha snorts softly, sliding in for a quick jab at Toni’s midsection, though at this point they’re conversing more than fighting.
“True,” She concedes, ducking under the engineer’s outstretched arm and giving her a scolding swat on the ass as she swings by. “Howard didn’t hire bodyguards?” She continues, and Toni laughs, spinning in a roundhouse kick Natasha takes a moment to admire before gracefully arcing out of the way.
“Waste of money. I learned how to save myself.” There’s silence for a moment as they continue to circle, and there’s something almost playful in the way they spar.

Natasha is better, no doubt, but she’s a weapon forged in blood and pain. Toni provides an interesting challenge; Natasha can’t always predict what the engineer will do. It makes fighting her fun, in a way it hasn’t been since she first sparred with Clint. There’s something fascinating about watching that brilliant mind shift and calculate behind Toni’s eyes, the way muscles no one would suspect her of having shift like liquid silk as she moves. 

They fight until they’re both drenched in sweat, and then they flop to the mats and starfish their limbs. They lie there quietly breathing, and then Natasha curls her pinky finger around Toni’s. She’s tentative, still, about reaching out; touch was never a good thing where she comes from. She’s always afraid she’s doing it wrong, or she’ll be turned away. From the corner of her eye, she sees Toni’s lips curl upwards, and she doesn’t withdraw her hand.
“You know,” Natasha says, the words slow and heavy on her tongue. “You don’t have to save yourself anymore.” She doesn’t look at Toni as she says it, can’t bring herself to watch the play of thoughts in Toni’s expressive eyes. Toni’s grip tightens on her pinky, and Natasha waits, listening to the quiet rush of Toni’s breathing, the near inaudible hum of the arc reactor.
“We’re the Avengers. We save each other.” Toni whispers, and she sounds like she’s repeating something she’s heard, not something she believes. Natasha thinks of all the betrayals Toni has suffered, all the times she’s been left bleeding and alone, had to pick herself and all her broken pieces up and keep going. 
“No,” Natasha disagrees, and turns onto her side, curving her body into Toni’s side. “I don’t get to keep things, Toni. I don’t get to have friends. I have…a lot of red in my ledger.” Toni opens her mouth to disagree and Natasha squeezes her pinky in warning. Surprisingly the genius stays silent.
“I don’t get to be happy,” Natasha says, and it’s only her training that keeps her voice steady. “But, I am, and…I’m selfish. You don’t have to save yourself, Toni, because you are I will.” Natasha presses her forehead to Toni’s shoulder, ignoring the clammy sweat on both their skin. “Hell doesn’t scare me anymore, Stark. I will drag your short, skinny ass out of there every time if I have to.” Natasha slips into silence, her insides quailing at how much weakness she just revealed, how much of herself she’s laid out. 
“I’m not short,” Toni grumbles eventually and Natasha is too much of a professional to point out how choked up she sounds. “And…Back at you, Nat.” She adds, softer, and Natasha smiles.

anonymous asked:

Could you write about fem!Tony and T'Challa is completely smitten and whether this is pre- or post- Civil War, the Avengers realize how smitten T'Challa really is?

A/N: As this is the first fill on ImagineIronPanther, I’d like to take a moment to thank all of the followers and prompters who are encouraging us, along with my fellow authors, who are making this a reality. You’re the best. - Taylor

This fic can also be read on Ao3


Toni figures it out, of course. She’s a genius with billions of dollars at her disposal and honestly, that leather-clad cat is severely underestimating her if he thinks he can hide half a dozen super-powered fugitives in his palace without her knowing about it.

She lets them be, though. Steve had asked it of her and besides, Toni doesn’t think she’s ready to face them. Not yet, possibly not ever. She doesn’t barge into Wakanda, doesn’t try to message them, most certainly doesn’t inform Ross (he’s an asshole that lost what little respect she held for him when he locked her friends in an underwater prison against her knowledge or consent). She lets them be, and when King T’Challa joins the first of many UN sessions in an apparently earnest attempt to locate the fugitives, Toni smirks at him from across the room.

He nods back, and in that glance she knows that he knows that she knows.  Toni’s smirk widens and she sips at the scotch she wasn’t supposed to bring in and says nothing.

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hungarianbee  asked:

Couldn't hold myself back, so here's a slightly longer prompt! Female!Toni is secretly a werepanther, which is an absolute rarity, since her species was/is hunted. She could control her instincts, until the day she met T'Challa - around him she can't seem to supress the urge to purr and not-so-accidentally bump her side against him. From here you can go wherever you want, I leave it up to you. <3

A/N: You’re an enabler. I didn’t fit the prompt exactly (mainly because I was too excited to finally have the excuse to write fem!Tony) but I hope you enjoy. You can also read this on Ao3, and there’s another installment in this ‘verse here.

Warnings for Hammer being a douchebag and Toni just generally having a sad life.


Toni’s skin is stretched over her aching bones, restlessness in her every sharp motion as she strides across the ballroom floor. People step out of her way, something deep and primal in them recognizing the beast that paces in her diminutive form. She ignores the looks because she knows that they don’t know why they’re looking. The men leer and the women coo about her shoes but she has earned respect in this world of honeyed lies and golden betrayal. They don’t dare disturb her, not when she’s like this, near-feral the night before a full moon.

The glass of scotch is waiting for Toni when she reaches the bar and she knocks back three fingers like the man Howard had tried to train into her. He taught her how to be brash, how to take what she wanted in a world that was unforgiving and cruel to the weak. He taught her to hide her weaknesses, her fears and the monster beneath her skin. He taught her to drink and to never trust a man that smiled with his mouth and not his eyes.

Toni took his lessons and made them a part of herself, part of the woman she forged from bitter defeat and second chances.

She tosses her hair over her shoulder and motions to the bartender for another drink.

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