Hey guys! So this is my first BDSM fic in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I hope I manage to do it justice! :) Just a few things everyone should know, just to clear any misunderstandings:

In this universe, Iron Man doesn't exist, but Tony is still a billionaire (as you may have read in the tags). He doesn't make weapons, but technology, etc, to earn his money, which is where he gets his wealth (and it's also thanks to his dad). Also, Captain America and the Winter Soldier don't exist either; it's just post-serum Steve and good old Bucky. Next, the tags will be updated as I write this story. I've got it all planned out, so let's hope I manage to write it all well and swell without any trouble. Also, I use British spelling, not American, so fair warning and apologies to those of you who absolutely detest British spelling :P

My goal is to update at least once a week or every two weeks, but apologies if I can't manage to do that (being on a schedule for updating never works out for me, oops). Anyway, I'll stop talking now. I hope I haven't forgotten anything :)

Enjoy, and let me know what you thought! Next chapter will be up hopefully in a week from now! 3

Tony wouldn't exactly call it hatred, what he felt towards Dominants. No, of course not. Hate, after all, was a very, very strong word. He hated assholes who deserved to be in jail. He hated rich people who waved their money around carelessly, flaunting it for the entire world to see. He hated avocado.

But he didn't hate Doms. He would much rather prefer to call it … disdain. A strong dislike. Irritation. And if he had a choice, he would never choose to be with a Dom.

But of course, things never worked out for him, because on the day of his thirtieth birthday, when he walked down to his workshop to lock himself in there for a good thirty eight hours or so, JARVIS announced, "Good morning, Sir. You have an email flagged as 'Important' that came in this morning precisely at 5:52 AM."

Tony groaned, plopping down in his chair and swivelling in it, just to stall so he wouldn't have to see whatever this so called important email was. "Who the fuck would email me at 6 in the morning, JARVIS?"

"Actually, Sir, many people have done so, if not earlier, in the past," JARVIS clipped.

"Ugh. Don't tell me that; you're already making my head hurt, JARVIS. I think I'm traumatized from all those times Hammer tried to do business early in the morning with Stark Industries." Tony stood up, heading towards Dum-E. "Hey, Dum-E. You still have that dunce cap on your head? Good. You damn well deserve it. Don't ever knock over my coffee mug over again or I'll make a robotic dunce cap that'll stick to your head until the day I die."

The robot whirred, and if Tony didn't know any better, he would've thought it sounded sad. Which, maybe it did. Just a little.

Rolling his eyes, he just sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "Who's the email from, JARVIS?"

"It appears it is from the National Organization of Dominants and Submissives, otherwise known as NODS."

"Why the fuck do I have an email from them?" Tony snorted, running a hand through his hair. "I sure as hell didn't sign up for one of their stupid get-togethers where people practically eye-fuck each other." He picked up a piece of paper where he'd written a bunch of ideas for the new StarkPhone 6 he was planning, frowning down at it. God, had he been drunk while coming up with these ideas? Who the fuck would want a pen holder attached to their phone?

"It appears that today is the twenty-ninth of May, or, in other words, your thirtieth birthday. A warm congratulations, Sir."

Then, Tony froze, a sudden realization hitting him at JARVIS' words. He was thirty. Which meant … shit. His name and information had been automatically inputted into the system. That was common knowledge; fuck, how had he forgotten something as important as this?

He must've spoken the last bit out loud, for JARVIS informed him dryly, "I did try to warn you, Sir, but you put me on mute, claiming that you didn't want my opinion on things as irrelevant as your thirtieth birthday."

"God, fuck, JARVIS! You know that everyone's thirtieth birthday is important!" Tony gripped his hair, trying to figure out what to do. It really wasn't JARVIS' fault, he knew. The AI was programmed to follow each and every single one of his orders and commands unless Tony's life or health was in significant danger. He wouldn't have been able to find a loophole in something as simple as being ordered to mute himself.

But still … crap. Tony had been planning; he'd had all these fabulous and grand ideas about how he, Tony Stark, would be the first to avoid being automatically registered into the system when he reached his thirtieth birthday. The ideas had ranged from downright holding a petition in order to change the law to hacking into the system and just having JARVIS shut it all down.

"Would you like me to pull up the email, Sir?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead." Tony let his hands drop from his hair down to his sides, mentally bracing himself for whatever was in this email. JARVIS pulled it up wordlessly, which Tony was thankful for, because he wasn't sure he was in the mood to be conversational when his entire life was about to be ruined (and okay, he knew he was being all dramatic, but still! This was the moment his life would go downhill).

The email was long and detailed, which made Tony hate it all the more.

Dear Mr. Anthony Stark,

It has come to the attention of the National Organization of Dominants and Submissives (NODS) that you have reached the age of 30, otherwise known as the maximum age Dominants and submissives may apply to be registered into the system. Unfortunately, our Assistant Researchers have stated that you have not yet manually registered your information into the system. Thus, regrettably and by default, we have entered your name, ANTHONY EDWARD STARK, as well as your contact information, into the system to be matched with a Dominant. As you are now registered in the system, finding a Dominant is now your first priority. Thus, you are now free to schedule a Matchmaking Ceremony, either by going on our official website or by calling us at any time of the day. As we have not actually registered you for a Matchmaking Ceremony, only entered your name into the National Organization of Dominants and Submissives' (NODS) system, you must now schedule your own Matchmaking Ceremony. Please abide by the law and schedule a Matchmaking Ceremony within 3 days of receiving this email. Failure to do so will result in an Assistant Researcher registering your name, ANTHONY EDWARD STARK, into the closest possible Sub House, where you will receive treatment to suit your needs as a submissive.

We hope to see you soon at one of our Matchmaking Ceremonies, and if you have any questions, please feel free to contact us. The National Organization of Dominants and Submissives (NODS) is always here to support you and be of assistance to you.

Best regards,

Adrienne Brown (Dominant)

Well, then.

"Put it away, JARVIS," Tony finally said, though he would've much rather preferred to say, 'Delete this email from this entire universe so that I don't ever have to hear about NODS again, JARVIS.' Tony sighed, wishing he could just jump down a rabbit hole and never have to think about being matched with a Dominant. God, rabbits were lucky. They didn't have to go through all this bullshit in their lives—

"Would you like me to pull up the official website so you can schedule a Matchmaking Ceremony, Sir?" JARVIS interrupted his thoughts, speaking plainly and expectantly.

"Ugh. Do I have to?" Tony complained, almost whining. Almost.

"It's either that or go to a Sub House, Sir, and while I'm neither a Dominant or submissive, I would think that being matched with a Dominant would be much more preferable," JARVIS responded.

Double ugh. Why did JARVIS have to be so reasonable? Tony thought wryly. The AI was definitely right about one thing; Tony would prefer, barely, just by a margin, being paired with a Dom than going to a Sub House. Why?

To put it plainly, Sub Houses sucked. Tony shuddered, remembering all the articles he'd stumbled upon of Sub Houses and how medical, how clinical, they were in their "treatment." Sub Houses just barely provided what submissives needed in order to function. Besides, Tony knew that he'd be a goner if he was actually registered into a Sub House. It was a myth, but most people believed that the submissives in Sub Houses were the subs that nobody wanted, the worthless ones, the outcasts in society. There would be no being rescued or taken in by a Dominant whatsoever after being entered into a Sub House.

So, yeah. It definitely sucked, and Tony was certainly not going to be registered into one. Hell, he would rather live off of avocados for the rest of his life, and that was saying a lot.

"Sir? I'm afraid you still haven't given me a clear answer. Would you like me to pull up—"

"Yeah, yeah, do it, JARVIS," Tony interrupted, shaking his head briskly. Goddammit, Tony, wake up, he told himself. He was going to schedule a Matchmaking Ceremony, and he was definitely not going to fuck this up. This Matchmaking Ceremony would determine how miserable his life would be from now on, and Tony would prefer to feel less miserable until the day he died, rather than a why-the-fuck-am-I-not-dead-yet-please-kill-me miserable.

Tony stared at the screen in front of him, and he sighed before reluctantly clicking on, 'Register for a Ceremony!' God, this was torture. He could literally feel his soul withering to death, and he hadn't even started yet.

It was surprisingly simple and straightforward. Tony had expected NODS to go all crazy with their scheduling. The first bit was the easiest. He entered his full name, age, his birth date, his gender, and the pronouns he went by. Next, however, he was asked to enter what his safeword was, and unfortunately for Tony, it seemed to be a required field, judging by the little star or whatever the fuck it was called next to the question.

See, the thing was, Tony had never … he didn't actually have a safeword. Tony had never had a reason to need a safeword. Even if he did have one, what would he have used it for anyway? For when JARVIS told him he needed to get rest? Now that was a whole nother level of stupid.

No matter. He would have to work his way around this question. He tapped his fingers on the side of the holographic keyboard in front of him, trying to think of a safeword for the first time in his life. What would be a good word he would never randomly say?

Tony tapped his fingers on his chin, then brightened when it finally came to him. "Ha!" he muttered triumphantly, then typed his answer into the box awaiting him.

The rest was pretty simple, Tony knowing exactly what his answers were. When he was done, he scrolled up, just to read over his answers just in case he felt the need to change something. His application for a Ceremony read:

*FULL NAME: ANTHONY EDWARD STARK

PREFERRED NAME: TONY

*AGE: 30

*BIRTH DATE (MM/DD): 05/29

*BIOLOGICAL GENDER: MALE

PRONOUNS: HE/HIS

*SAFEWORD: SAFEWORD

LIKES: INDEPENDENCE

DISLIKES: AVOCADO

*POSSIBLE TRIGGERS: BEING HANDED THINGS, BEING FORCED TO SOCIALIZE WITH ASSHOLES

HEALTH CONCERNS: N/A

OTHER ADDITIONAL INFORMATION: N/A

Satisfied with himself, Tony gave a small nod to himself and clicked the 'next' button. It took him to another page, with a calendar in the corner.

Well, this was pretty self-explanatory. Tony didn't even have to read the instructions written in italics at the top of the page to realize what he was supposed to do.

"JARVIS," Tony called absentmindedly, staring at the calendar. "What day and time would be best for me to go to this … Ceremony?" He wrinkled his nose at the thought.

"It appears that you are free tomorrow at 7 AM, Thursday at approximately 6 PM until the next day, or Monday at 9 AM until 12 PM. Tomorrow, your schedule is cleared until 10 AM, courtesy of Ms. Potts."

Tony grimaced. "Right. And which day would least anger Pepper?"

"Tomorrow at 7 AM, but you and I both know that you are not a morning person, Sir, so I'm afraid that is not possible. I would predict that Monday would be best, considering you get at least 9 hours of sleep. Which, I can also predict, will be unlikely."

"And why not Thursday?" Tony asked, brain working furiously to figure out which date would be best. He made a point of ignoring the disapproving tone JARVIS had spoken in.

"I do recall Ms. Potts claiming she would come to see you on Thursday at 7 in the evening to discuss some business with you, Sir, and, to quote her exact words, 'to make sure that you've finished all the necessary paperwork by then.'"

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose when he thought of the huge stack of paperwork on his desk in his office. It probably had a good layer of dust by now. "Right," he muttered. "Okay, so Monday it is." Grimacing and acting as if it was causing him physical pain, Tony typed in the date and selected the time as 10 AM, just so that he would have a good hour to mentally prepare himself for what he was now thinking of as Doomsday.

The rest was pretty clear, the next page listing expectations and rules during a Ceremony, like 'respect other people,' 'you can only enter a Ceremony thrice, and after that, you must register for a Sub or Dom House,' yadda yadda yadda.

Tony just hoped that he would meet some good, less-of-a-dickhead people so that he wouldn't have to register for a Sub House.

When the form was entered and everything was done, Tony sat down in his chair, heaving a heavy sigh. "God, I need something to help me relax," he muttered, rubbing his face tiredly with a hand. "I'm all done with that stuff, right, JARVIS? Don't tell me they need my fingerprint now or some bullshit like that."

"I believe they already have your fingerprint, Sir," JARVIS informed in a pleasant voice. "But yes, there is nothing more you are required to do. Would you like me to put in a reminder in your schedule for your Matchmaking Ceremony?"

"Yeah, sure. Thanks, JARVIS. Oh, and order some Chinese food from that place I like, would you?"

"With pleasure, Sir."

Tony made a noise absentmindedly in response, then shut down the screen in front of him containing the page that read, ' Congratulations! You have just registered for a Matchmaking Ceremony! We hope to see you soon, and please contact us if you have any concerns!'

Yeah, he did have concerns, like the fact that he was being forced to do this even though he didn't want to. Whatever. It was done now anyway.

Tony had done exactly what he'd been directed to do, albeit he'd just done the bare minimum; besides, there had been no mentions of consequences of filling out a registration form with answers barely satisfactory, after all. And it wasn't like NODS was gonna come after him for swearing in a registration form.

Tony let out another sigh and decided to work on some better, less idiotic ideas for the new StarkPhone. That was a good excuse to ignore all the paperwork he had waiting for him too. But before he could stand up and get himself properly situated, JARVIS announced, "Incoming call from Pepper Potts."

Pepper's face popped up on a screen. She waved, smiling. "Hey, Tony."

"Pepper!" Tony couldn't help the way his face split into a grin; no matter how much he complained that Doms were douchebags and that they ought to be taught a lesson about equality, he loved Pepper. He respected the way she carried herself, as a single, unmatched Domme (she hadn't yet reached her thirtieth birthday).

Besides, Tony and Pepper, they had this … special relationship. They hadn't exactly been in a full on Dom/sub relationship, but whenever Tony needed help, she'd been there for him. It was engraved in Tony's mind, the way she walked ever so perfectly, her high heels clacking against the floor, the way she held her head high proudly as she walked, the way she never hesitated to reach forward and hug him, run her fingers through his hair comfortingly when he was on the brink of breaking down …

"...Tony? Tony! You haven't been listening to a word I've been saying, have you?" Pepper sounded fondly exasperated.

Yup, he definitely loved her.

"Of course I have," Tony said, giving a small shrug with a grin on his face. "Uh, about the new phone, right? Or the, um, the …" Don't remind her of the paperwork. Don't remind her. "Uh," he finished lamely.

Pepper sighed, shaking her head affectionately. "No, you silly thing! I was wishing you happy birthday!"

"Oh." Tony couldn't help the way his cheeks warmed up a bit; how had he not thought of that? Pepper never missed his birthdays. Never. "Of course. Uh, thank you. Hallelujah and all."

Hallelujah, my ass , he thought spitefully.

"It's your thirtieth, isn't it?" she asked with a small knowing smile. Her eyes filled with mirth at the way Tony scrunched his face up in distaste at the mention of his thirtieth birthday, but contained a bit of sympathy as well. She knew Tony well enough to know that he wasn't exactly ecstatic about his birthday.

She opened her mouth, evidently to ask him a question, but Tony cut her off, knowing what she would ask. "I scheduled a Ceremony, you don't need to ask." He couldn't help the way he sounded, all bitter and resentful that he'd been forced to schedule one. "It's next Monday."

"Well, I'm glad I didn't have to sit you down and force you to register," was all she said. "Anyway, are you ready for the party tomorrow?"

"Uh, what party? " Tony's mouth went dry, and shit! He'd known he'd forgotten something! He'd felt it in his gut. Always trust your gut, he scolded himself.

He didn't miss the way Pepper's eyebrows shot up, or the way she had a why-am-I-not-surprised look on her face. "Your birthday party, Tony." She sounded slightly amused. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd forgotten his own birthday, never mind his party!

But, still. Everyone's thirtieth birthday was a significant part of their lives; kind of like a teenager's sixteenth birthday, sweet sixteen and all that stuff. Tony bit his lip a bit ruefully, wondering if there wasn't a way he could just call quits on the entire party. "Awww, but Pep, you know I hate socializing!" He pouted.

"I know, but it's good for Stark Industries and I know you care more about the company than you let on," Pepper responded, repeating the words she'd said to him multiple times before. "And besides, if you don't hold a party, it's gonna cause more of a fuss than you want from the press. I can already imagine the headlines: Thirtieth birthday Tony Stark — but where's the party? "

"Ugh, fine," Tony complained. "You're so mean to me."

"Mhm, of course I am." Pepper smiled fondly, and Tony couldn't help smiling back. Pepper somehow always warmed his heart. "Anyway, I gotta run. Lots of paperwork to sign and all, as CEO. And you, even though you're not CEO, have some paperwork to sign too. That's right, I didn't forget," she added when Tony groaned. "Now get to it before I have to sit you down like a mother would to their five year old son and make them do their homework."

"Fine!" Tony pouted even more, just to make a point.

Pepper laughed. "Love you, Tony."

"Love you too, Pepps." Tony begrudgingly smiled. "JARVIS, end call."

The call finished and with nothing more to do — or rather, nothing more that he wanted to do (there were plenty of things he had to do) — Tony grabbed a glass and a bottle of scotch, because shit, he was gonna have to prepare for his damned birthday party tomorrow, and he really, really didn't want to.

Tony enjoyed the way the scotch burned as it slid down his throat, but only because it distracted him from the fact that he was going to be matched with a Dom very, very soon.

Ugh.