#ironman imagines

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Consider this: Tony x F!Reader where they both have an insanely high sex drive…which leads them to do it at any and all given moments, regardless of where they are 🤔🤭

Libido

A/N: This ask has been marinating in my inbox for a long time now. Heart it, reblog it and comment if you’ve enjoyed reading :)

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warning: 18+ smut, fluff.

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

“What was that, Y/N?”

You covered a needy little moan that escaped with a cough as you squirmed in your seat, trying to appear as normal as you could in front of the camera. This pushed your colleague to ask if you were okay, a question he really didn’t need answered.

Not when you had a certain cocky, billionaire genius between your legs, stroking your glistening folds with a shit-eating grin on his face. The table you sat at conveniently covered your lower half, making you appear perfectly innocent on the meeting call while your boyfriend teased you relentlessly.

It was payback for the time you’d snuck into his lab to give him the best head of his life - which he admitted to, while he was on a phone call with Thaddeus Ross.

Not that he would ever discourage you from doing it again but the dichotomy of Tony’s warning glares and vice-like grip in your hair to guide you along his length had felt too good to miss.

“I um—I’m sorry I think there’s something wrong with my network here.” Quickly switching off your camera, you went on mute as you felt Tony slide two fingers inside your pussy, grinning victoriously as you let out a moan you’d been stifling.

“I hate you, Stark.” You panted, lifting your hips to match his pace as he massaged your slick walls.

“Love you too, baby.” He smirked, kissing your inner thigh lovingly while bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Put that mouth to good use now, make me come.” With that you guided his face where you needed him the most.

The two of you often had a hard time keeping your hands off of each other. And you didn’t even try. Finding any and every place you could to get naughty. Be it on missions, plane rides or meetings, you two would make sure to christen the unlikeliest of places.

.

“What if they hear us?”

You would think your urgent whispers would make the man halt his ministrations but no, they seemed to spur him on.

“Better be quiet then.”

Tony murmured against your lips as he slid into your wetness with ease, muffling your moan that almost escaped by covering your mouth with his hand.

While the communal kitchen pantry was a sizeable space, the door wasn’t exactly sound proof. And with the team lounging right in the adjacent room, you were walking a thin line of hot, sneaky sex and outing your relationship to them all.

It was movie night, and while the team seemed blissfully unaware, you and Tony had snuck into the kitchen under the pretext of getting more popcorn. His wandering hands led you to pull him into the pantry urgently, wanting him to take you right there. You craved the man as if it were a primal need.

“Tony, I need more. Please..” you cried, digging your fingernails into his shoulders while he held you up against the cabinets, your legs wrapped around his hips as he began moving ever so slowly.

“Shh. I got you, sweetheart.”

With his lips murmuring promises against your skin, he picked up his pace, making his length brush deliciously against the spot that made your knees weak.

You weren’t sure if you could hold your moans in any longer as he drove you closer to the edge, his thrusts picking up on the urgency you both felt.

“Y/N? Are you in there? I thought you were getting popcorn.” Bruce’s voice made you stop abruptly. He was right outside and could come in any minute.

“Yeah! I just wanted to get some extra candies too. I’ll—I’ll be right out.”

You felt Tony grin against your neck hearing your lame reason, knowing all the candies you could possibly imagine were already laid out on the kitchen island.

“Alright. Do you know where Tony is?” Bruce frowned as he glanced at the array of snacks already sitting there.

Tony resumed his actions, not bothering to cover your mouth any more while your eyes were fixed on the shadows of Bruce’s feet that were visible at the bottom right outside the shut door. You held your breath, glaring at the man who was now moving inside you without a care in the world.

“Uh, not really, Bruce. He’s probably back in his room, old man needs his sleep!” You joked, watching the doctor finally walk away as Tony bit down on your neck.

“You’re gonna pay for that, Y/L/N.” he warned.

“Yeah? I can’t wait, Stark.”

.

“Wait! Found another twig.”

Turning around, you blinked in confusion as Tony’s arms went around you, movements exaggerated as his fingers carded through your hair to pluck stray leaves and a twig from them.

“Don’t look so innocent, you know where your mouth has just been.”

He smirked, giving your hair a gentle but firm tug as his lips descended onto yours, tasting the last of his saltiness on your tongue.

The team was on a mission and you’d just happened to have found a secluded spot in the woods that surrounded the area. Your make out session had turned into a quickie while the team was oblivious to your activities.

You hadn’t officially announced you were together, the thrill of all excited you, plus, you wanted to keep what you had to yourself just a bit longer. It was nothing short of a wild ride sneaking around with Tony Stark.

Though you had a feeling Rhodey had his doubts that something was up, then again, he knew Tony inside out. And according to him, his behaviour had changed significantly since you’d walked into his life. He laughed and slept more, cribbed less, and the way his eyes lit up every time you were near, Rhodey was certain his best friend was smitten.

His eager length twitched against your thigh once again as you kissed, making you nip at his bottom lip before playfully pushing him away.

“I’ve already taken care of my distraction for the day.” You called over your shoulder, heading back to where the team was. Nat gave you pointed look which you dismissed, your heart still beating faster as you took a seat next to her.

I think you lost your underwear somewhere —Your favourite distraction.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, revealing a message from your secret boyfriend. While you made up an excuse to where you had been, Tony caught your eye and pulled something out of his pocket with a victorious grin. Your panties.

[ironinc]

Hey 🤗✨ Hope you're doing well! I have another request for you!

So it's a Tony x reader request (I'm sorry, I'm obsessed with that man). He leaves for a business trip in a couple of days and reader gets an idea-What if they make a movie that Tony can watch when he misses her? And when I say movie, I mean the spicy type of movie....😉

Secret Tape.ᝰ.ᐟ (Pt.1)

Tony Stark x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ Your husband, Tony Stark, is going on a three-week business trip, and you plan to surprise him with a sexy twist - a special video you made together. He has no idea it's coming, and it'll surely make his trip more bearable.

⤷ Oneshot, smut, secretly recording, very detailed so here’s the warning!

⤷ A/N: I apologize for posting this so late, my life has been so good but a bit busy. Thank you so much for this request!:!&: THEY MAKE ME SO EXCITED. I’m gonna make this into two parts only because I want to add a suspense to this one. So I hope I don’t fail you 😫🙏🏽

⤷ Word count: 2,039

⤷ Special song to add spice: Kill Shot by Magdalena Bay

⋆˙⟡

Tonight’s the night. 

You run your fingers through your freshly silk-pressed hair, the straight strands sliding like water over your shoulder. The mirror reflects your nervous smile, the bedroom dimly lit with the warm glow of bedside lamps. 

Tony’s suitcase sits at the foot of the bed, packed and ready for his three-week trip. And tucked neatly inside, buried beneath his neatly folded shirts, lies your secret—the USB drive with the video you’ve meticulously created for him. He has no idea. None.

You glance at the clock on the nightstand. 11:47 PM. He’s still in his workshop, tinkering with something—probably the suit. You’ve got time. Slipping into the bathroom, you lock the door behind you and pull out your phone. You open the video file, your heart racing as the screen flickers to life.

There you are, lying on the bed, the camera angled just right to capture every curve, every flicker of your brown skin. Your freshly silk-pressed hair spills over the pillow and your lips part slightly as you stare directly into the lens. No words—just eyes. Intense, unyielding eye contact. The kind that makes his stomach tighten, the kind that always makes him groan your name in that low, possessive way.

You remember how your hands trembled as you set up the camera, how your breath hitched when you pressed record. But the moment you looked into the lens, something shifted. Dominance. It was in the way you tilted your chin, the way your fingers traced your collarbone, slow and deliberate. You weren’t just teasing him—you were commanding him.

The video plays on, and you can’t help but bite your lip as you watch yourself. Your hand moves down your body, fingers trailing over your breasts, your stomach, and then lower. The sound of your soft moans fills the bathroom, and your face flushes as you remember the way Tony’s name had slipped from your lips, whispered like a secret.

On-screen, your fingers dip between your thighs, and you gasp softly, the memory of the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. You had been so wet, so desperate. And then, just as you’re about to lose yourself in the video, there’s a knock at the door.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Tony’s voice is muffled through the wood, but it still makes you jump.

You quickly close the video and tuck your phone into the pocket of your robe. Play it cool. “Yeah, just… freshening up,” you call back, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Alright. Don’t take too long. I’ve got an early flight.”

You hear his footsteps retreating, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. One last look in the mirror, and you’re ready.

When you step out of the bathroom, Tony’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He looks up at you, and his eyes darken as they trail over the sheer fabric of your robe. This is it. You walk over to him, your hips swaying just enough to tighten his jaw.

“You look… incredible,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly.

You smile, running a hand through your hair. “Just trying to make sure you remember me while you’re gone.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer so you’re standing between his knees. His hands rest on your hips, his thumbs brushing over the soft fabric. “Trust me, forgetting you isn’t possible.”

You lean down, your lips hovering just above his. 

“Good.”

The kiss is slow at first, a gentle exploration of each other’s mouths. But it doesn’t stay that way for long. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer, and you moan softly as his tongue slips past your lips. God, he’s good at this.

When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless. His eyes scan your face, and you can see the hunger in them. Not yet. You pull back, stepping out of his grasp.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice rough.

“Nothing,” you say, smiling as you turn away from him. “Just… don’t forget to pack your toothbrush.”

You make a show of walking over to his suitcase, pretending to organize the contents. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him watching you, his gaze heavy. Good. Keep him guessing.

As you close the suitcase, you glance back at him. He’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on you. Now’s the time. You walk over to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m going to miss you,” you say softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead.

He grabs your wrist, pulling you onto his lap. 

“Then give me something to remember you by, he growls, his lips trailing along your neck.

You tilt your head back, giving him better access. This is it. You reach behind you, fumbling for the hem of your robe. With a quick tug, you let it fall open, revealing the black sheer lace lingerie underneath.

Tony’s breath catches, his hands sliding up your thighs. “Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice strained.

You smile, running your fingers through his hair. 

“Make it count.”

His hands move to your hips, lifting you slightly so he can pull off your panties. You gasp as his fingers brush against your core, already wet and aching for him. “Tony…”

He smirks, leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make sure you feel me for days.”

As he guides you onto him, you can’t help but think about the video, about how he’ll react when he finds it. Surprise, Iron Man.

His hands grip your hips, helping you move against him. Every thrust sends a wave of pleasure through your body, and you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he groans, his voice rough with desire. 

“Let me hear you .”

You’re close, so close. Your eyes meet his, and the intensity in his gaze makes you shudder. Dominance. It’s not just in the way he’s moving inside you—it’s in the way he’s looking at you like he wants to own every inch of you.

“Tony,” you gasp, your body trembling as you reach your peak.

He groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he follows you over the edge. For a moment, you’re both lost in the aftershocks, your breathing ragged and your bodies still tangled together.

When he finally pulls away, you collapse against his chest, your heart still racing. You did it.

He kisses the top of your head, his arms wrapping around you. “I’m going to miss this,” he murmurs.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have plenty to remember me by.”

As you lay there, your mind drifts back to the video. Soon, he’ll find it. And when he does… well, you can’t wait to see the look on his face.

“Hey.” His voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up to see him smirking at you. 

“What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” you say, laughing softly. “Just thinking about how much you’re going to miss me.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Trust me, baby. I’ll be counting down the days until I’m back in this bed with you.”

Until then, you think, he’ll have the video. And as you lay there in his arms, you can’t help but smile. Surprise, Iron Man.

── .✦

The boardroom was buzzing with the usual corporate chatter, but Tony’s mind was elsewhere. The suitcase he’d opened in his hotel room last night had revealed more than just his neatly folded suits and ties. Nestled between the layers of fabric was a small, unmarked USB drive.

 Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he’d plugged it into his laptop, only to be greeted by a video that had left him breathless.

Now, sitting at the head of the table, he could feel the heat of the memory coursing through him. The video started innocently enough—you sitting at the edge of the bed, your freshly silk-pressed hair cascading over your shoulders, your deep, expressive eyes locking onto the camera with an intensity that made his pulse quicken. 

But it wasn’t long before the silence was broken by the sound of your voice, low and sultry.

“Tony,” you began, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. “You’re probably watching this in some boring boardroom, trying to keep it together. Let’s see how long you last.”

The camera angle shifted, and suddenly he was watching you, no, himself, from the night before. 

You’d set up a camera he bought you discreetly, capturing every moment. His hands on your waist, his lips on your neck, the way you arched into him as his fingers slid under the hem of your dress. The memory was vivid, but seeing it play out on screen was something else entirely.

Tony shifted in his seat, his fingers tightening around the pen he was pretending to take notes with. The video continued, and he couldn’t help but glance at the other executives around the table. They were engrossed in their own conversations, oblivious to the internal battle he was fighting.

On the screen, your voice purred again. “Remember this part? When you told me to look at you?”

And there it was—his hand gripping your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. Your eyes, wide and unyielding, stared back at him through the screen, and he could feel his control slipping. 

The way you submitted to his dominance, the way your lips parted as he leaned in closer, it was all too much.

“You always did like it when I let you take control,” you teased, your voice dripping with a mix of sweetness and seduction. “But what if I told you I was the one in charge the whole time?”

The video cut to a new angle, and Tony’s breath caught in his throat. It was you, straddling him, your hands on his chest, your hair falling forward as you leaned down to kiss him. He could see the way his hands gripped your hips, the way his body responded to your every touch. But then, your voice came again, soft and teasing.

“I know you’re watching this, Tony. I know you’re trying to stay professional, to keep that famous Stark composure. But let’s be real—you’re not fooling anyone.”

He could feel the sweat forming on his brow, his heart pounding in his chest. The video was relentless, each frame more intoxicating than the last. Your laughter echoed in his ears, the sound of your moans sending a shiver down his spine. 

And then, the moment he’d been dreading—the moment he’d been waiting for.

The camera zoomed in, capturing the look on your face as you came undone, your body trembling in his arms. The sound of his name on your lips was like a punch to the gut, and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning out loud.

“I wonder how long it’ll take before you can’t stand it anymore,” you whispered, your voice a mix of challenge and promise. “Before you need to find some way to deal with all this pent-up energy.”

Tony’s jaw clenched as he forced himself to focus on the meeting. But it was no use. The video was burned into his mind, your voice a constant reminder of what he was missing. He could feel the heat pooling in his abdomen, the tightness in his pants becoming unbearable.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Excuse me,” he said abruptly, standing up from the table. “I need to make a quick call.”

The others barely looked up as he made his way to the door, his steps hurried and purposeful. Once outside, he leaned against the wall, his breathing heavy and uneven. He pulled out his phone, his fingers trembling as he unlocked it and pulled up the video again.

The screen lit up, and there you were, smiling at him with that same mischievous glint in your eye. 

“Miss me yet?”

Tony’s voice was barely a whisper as he responded, “You have no idea.”

Why did this take so long for me to upload… like I could you NOT!!!:$:$ IT wouldn’t let me do ANYTHING ON HERE GAHHHSHSH

- Part Two Awaits You Soon…ᥫ᭡

[amethystarachnid]

Hi!! I hope you’re doing well 🥰

I had an idea for the Marvel Multiverse Reality Show AU with Tony x F!Personal Assistant Reader (if you’re willing to write it?).

Maybe after just announcing he’s Iron Man, he’s agreed to have a reality show about himself called “The Stark Reality” (because we know this man LOVES attention and it’s a good play on words 🤭). He welcomes the crew in and it shows the world about his daily life, his iron man life, maybe his playboy life etc etc. Throughout filming his reality show, he has many interactions with his personal assistant on screen. Fans watching begin speculating on their relationship together, which after a while leads to an awkward yet sweet realization between the two. His PA definitely has feeling for her boss, but much to her surprise he’s had those same feelings too. It’s sweet when they come to the realization together, but it’s incredibly awkward when they realize the cameras had been secretly filming their sweet moment entire time 😵‍💫

I hope it makes sense lol. Thanks for taking the time to even read this! 🫶🏻

THE STARK REALITY (SHOW)

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.7k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): lack of privacy because they are in a reality show

ᯓ★ part 2

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The camera crew files into the mansion, wide-eyed and slightly overwhelmed, their equipment catching the gleam of expensive decor and cutting-edge technology. The grand entrance of the Stark estate is exactly as the world imagines—opulent, excessive, and bathed in the golden glow of wealth. The moment the director calls for the first shot, Tony Stark is already in the center of it all, perfectly at ease in the limelight.

“Welcome to The Stark Reality!” he announces, arms thrown wide, that signature smirk plastered across his face. “A reality show about a billionaire, genius, ex-weapons manufacturer, and recently announced superhero. Also known as me.” He winks directly at the camera. “You’re welcome, world.”

The camera crew shifts to follow him as he walks deeper into the house, narrating as he goes. He gestures to the extravagant living space, to the sleek glass walls revealing a sprawling Malibu view, to the open bar already stocked with expensive bottles. It’s all part of the spectacle, but then again, so is he.

And then there’s you.

You linger just outside the frame, tablet in hand, lips pressed together in a straight line. You’ve been Tony’s assistant for years now, navigating his unpredictable whims, his extravagant lifestyle, and now, apparently, his newfound interest in reality television. You should’ve seen this coming. The man loves an audience.

He turns suddenly, catching you off guard. “And this,” he says, beckoning you over, “is my lovely, brilliant, long-suffering personal assistant.”

The camera swings toward you, and you resist the urge to sigh. Instead, you school your features into something passably professional, giving the crew a tight smile.

“Hi,” you say simply.

Tony raises a brow, clearly unimpressed with your lack of enthusiasm. “Come on, give ‘em something. These people are here for entertainment.”

You don’t miss the way he leans in slightly, mischief dancing in his eyes. He loves doing this—pulling you into his orbit, pushing at your composure just to see if you’ll break.

You tilt your head, tapping your tablet. “Would you like me to list your meetings for the day or just summarize the number of ways this reality show is going to be a logistical nightmare?”

He grins. “See? She’s got personality. And she keeps me on schedule, which is an almost impossible task, so she’s basically a superhero in her own right.”

“I don’t have time to save the world,” you say dryly. “I’m too busy saving you from yourself.”

The crew chuckles, and Tony places a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Ouch. And yet, true.”

The filming continues as Tony moves through his morning routine—or rather, what he claims is his routine but is obviously exaggerated for the cameras. He lounges dramatically on his couch, sipping a green smoothie he wouldn’t drink on a normal day. He shows off the in-house gym he rarely uses because, as he puts it, “Why sweat when you have a suit of armor that does all the heavy lifting?”

Still, he’s in his element. The camera loves him, and he loves it right back.

Throughout the day, the crew captures glimpses of what it’s like to work for Tony Stark—organized chaos at best. You’re constantly in motion, fielding calls, managing his schedule, and dodging his playful antics.

At one point, you’re briefing him about an upcoming meeting when he suddenly cuts you off.

“Hold that thought,” he says, turning toward the camera with an exaggerated look of excitement. “This is the part where I ignore my assistant’s very important words and do something reckless.”

You let out a slow breath, eyes closing for a brief second. “Please don’t.”

Too late. He’s already bolting toward his workshop, the crew scrambling to keep up.

The rest of the day follows suit, a whirlwind of Tony being Tony—charming, infuriating, and completely impossible. The world wanted a peek into his life, and now they’re getting it. But beneath all the theatrics, the cameras capture something else too—those little moments where he looks at you just a beat too long, the way he teases you not just for the show, but because he enjoys it.

And maybe you enjoy it too.

The days of filming blur together in a chaotic, camera-filled whirlwind. Tony adapts quickly, thriving under the constant attention, but for you, it’s an adjustment. You’re used to managing him behind the scenes, not under the watchful eyes of millions who will dissect every interaction, every glance, every word exchanged between you.

And dissect they do.

At first, the comments from fans are lighthearted.

"Wow, Tony’s assistant is a saint. How does she put up with him?"

"The way he looks at her though?? I’d die for a man to look at me like that."

"There’s no way they haven’t at least kissed before. The chemistry is insane."

You ignore it. It’s just the internet being the internet. But as the show airs more episodes, the speculation doesn’t just continue—it grows. Entire compilations pop up online, showing moments between you and Tony that seem insignificant alone but, when stitched together, tell a different story.

One of those moments happens late one night when the cameras are supposed to be off.

It’s past midnight, and most of the crew has packed up for the day, but you’re still in the workshop, scrolling through Tony’s calendar on your tablet. He’s at his workbench, eyes locked on whatever latest modification he’s making to the suit. It’s quiet, comfortable. Just the two of you.

“You should go to bed,” he murmurs without looking up.

“You should take your own advice,” you counter.

A smirk tugs at his lips, and he finally lifts his gaze to meet yours. “I will if you will.”

You shake your head, suppressing a smile. “I have too much to do.”

“So do I.” He gestures vaguely at the half-finished repulsor in front of him. “But unlike you, I am my own boss and can ignore my responsibilities.”

You huff out a laugh, shifting your weight onto your other foot. “You ignore them whether you’re your own boss or not.”

His smirk widens. “Exactly. Now sit.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sit?”

“Yeah.” He pats the empty stool beside him. “You’re making me nervous, standing there all tense. Come on, take a load off.”

After a moment of hesitation, you give in, sliding onto the stool next to him. He’s still looking at you, and now that you’re closer, you notice the exhaustion tugging at the edges of his expression. It’s rare to see him without the armor of his usual bravado.

“Long day?” you ask softly.

He hums, rolling his shoulders. “Something like that.”

Without thinking, you reach out and press your fingers against a knot in his shoulder, kneading gently. He freezes for a fraction of a second, then exhales, melting slightly under your touch.

“Oh,” he murmurs, voice lower now. “That’s dangerous.”

Your fingers still. “What is?”

He turns his head slightly, eyes flickering to yours. “Letting you know that feels good. You might start using it as leverage.”

You roll your eyes but keep massaging the tension from his shoulder. “Please. Like I don’t already have enough leverage on you.”

His lips quirk up in amusement, and for a while, neither of you say anything. The quiet hum of the workshop fills the space, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips grounding you. It’s easy to forget the world outside of moments like this.

What neither of you realize is that one of the smaller cameras in the corner of the workshop—the one meant to capture footage of his tech for the show—was never turned off.

When the footage airs, the internet explodes.

"GUYS, I AM LITERALLY GONNA SCREAM. Did you see the way he just let her touch him like that? He was SOFT for her. I can’t do this."

"No but the way she just casually massages him like it’s normal… THEY’RE IN LOVE."

"I don’t even care if they say they’re not together, the EYE CONTACT says otherwise."

Tony, of course, loves the reactions.

“People are calling me soft,” he says one morning, shoving his phone in your face. “For you.”

You glance up from your tablet, unimpressed. “I mean, they’re not wrong.”

His grin widens. “Oh? You admit I have a soft spot for you?”

“I admit you think you do,” you reply smoothly, swiping to the next appointment on his schedule.

“Ouch. Brutal,” he says, pressing a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”

You shake your head, suppressing a smile, but then he does something unexpected. He reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

It’s a small thing, a fleeting touch, but it sends your heart skipping a beat.

And of course, the cameras catch it.

The moment goes viral within hours.

"Tony tucking her hair behind her ear?? Sir, I am UNWELL."

"I’m convinced they forget they’re being filmed sometimes because this is NOT platonic behavior."

"The way she paused for a second after he touched her… yeah, she felt that."

The more moments like this pile up, the harder it gets to brush off the speculation. The crew catches everything—the way Tony always seems to find excuses to be near you, the way his gaze lingers just a second too long when you’re not looking, the way you press a coffee into his hand before he even asks for it.

One day, after a particularly chaotic filming session involving a very unnecessary stunt with the Iron Man suit (which you had explicitly told him not to do), the two of you find yourselves alone in the kitchen.

You’re filling a glass of water when Tony steps beside you, leaning casually against the counter.

“You’re mad,” he observes.

You take a sip of your own water. “I’m not mad.”

He tilts his head, studying you. “Annoyed, then.”

You set your glass down with a sigh. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

His expression softens slightly. “But I didn’t.”

“That’s not the point,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair.

For once, he doesn’t immediately deflect with a joke. Instead, he reaches out, gently tugging at your wrist until you look at him.

“I’m fine,” he says, quieter now.

You exhale, shaking your head. “I know. I just—” You stop yourself, not sure how to put it into words.

Tony doesn’t push. He just holds your gaze, something unreadable flickering in his expression. The air between you shifts, heavier than before.

Neither of you realize the camera in the corner of the kitchen is still rolling.

"Nah, because that moment in the kitchen was INTIMATE. The way he reached for her wrist so gently??? PLEASE."

"Okay but the way she was genuinely worried about him? And the way he actually let himself be serious for once?? They’re in LOVE."

"I don’t even need confirmation at this point. This is a slow-burn romance happening in real-time."

You tell yourself it’s just the cameras.

That’s why everything feels heightened, why your heart stumbles in your chest every time Tony leans just a little too close, why your stomach flips when his gaze lingers a second too long.

It’s the show. The attention. The fact that millions of people are dissecting every interaction between you, making you hyperaware of the way Tony touches you so casually, the way he teases you so effortlessly, the way he just exists in your space like he belongs there.

Because that’s all it is.

Right?

You try to ignore it. Try to act normal. Try to pretend your pulse doesn’t quicken when he throws an arm around your shoulders in front of the cameras, pulling you into his orbit like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You don’t let yourself think too much about the way his touch lingers, the way his hand sometimes settles at the small of your back when he guides you through a crowd, the way he always seems to know exactly what to say to get under your skin—just enough to fluster you, just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

You’ve worked for Tony long enough to know that he’s always been like this. He’s charming, magnetic, impossible to ignore. He flirts with everyone, makes people feel like they’re the only person in the room when he talks to them.

It’s just who he is.

But then there are moments that don’t feel like a performance.

Like the time you’re both in the workshop late at night again, and he offers you a screwdriver without looking, like he somehow knows exactly what you need before you ask. Or the time he catches you yawning after a long day and, without a word, pushes his cup of coffee toward you.

Or the time you stumble half-asleep into the kitchen one morning, still in your pajamas, and find him already there, making two cups of coffee—one exactly how you like it.

“You’re up early,” you mumble, rubbing at your eyes.

He smirks, handing you the coffee. “You’re just up late.”

You take the cup from him, wrapping your fingers around the warmth. “Thanks.”

He watches you as you take your first sip, his expression softer than usual. “You should sleep more.”

You arch a brow at him. “You’re one to talk.”

He chuckles, shaking his head, but he doesn’t argue. And then he does something that makes your brain short-circuit—he reaches out and brushes his thumb over the corner of your mouth.

You freeze.

“There was coffee there,” he says, voice low, almost teasing, but there’s something else in his eyes. Something that makes your heart stutter.

The moment stretches, thick with something unspoken. And then—

“Morning, boss! Morning, Y/N!”

You both jolt back as one of the camera crew members strolls in, oblivious. You step away quickly, lifting your coffee to your lips to hide the fact that your face is burning.

Tony just exhales through his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like cockblocked by my own reality show.

The cameras weren’t even rolling that morning, but somehow, the clip of him wiping coffee off your lip still ends up online.

"HELLO?? HIS THUMB ON HER LIP?? WHAT KIND OF ROMANCE NOVEL BULLSHIT IS THIS??"

"He looked so focused on her mouth I am losing my mind."

"I swear they forget the cameras exist sometimes. That was INTIMATE."

The internet is eating this up. Fans are analyzing every look, every touch, every moment between you and Tony with the kind of dedication usually reserved for crime scene investigations.

You try to ignore it.

You fail.

Because suddenly, you start noticing things you’ve ignored before.

Like the way Tony always saves the last slice of pizza for you. The way he keeps an extra pair of your favorite sunglasses in his car because he knows you always forget yours. The way he always seems to position himself between you and any potential threat—even if the "threat" is just a pushy journalist or an overenthusiastic fan.

And then there are the looks.

The ones that last just a little too long. The ones where he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking. The ones that feel different.

The realization creeps up on you slowly, like a shadow stretching in the late afternoon sun.

You like him.

No—you’ve liked him. Probably for a while now. You were just too stubborn, too careful, too scared to admit it.

And Tony—oh, Tony has known for a long time.

It’s in the way he looks at you, like he’s just waiting for you to catch up. Like he’s been patient, so damn patient, but he’s not going to wait forever.

But you don’t know how to cross that line. Not when the whole world is watching. Not when your job, your life, everything is so tangled up with him.

So you try to act normal.

The cameras catch every single slip-up.

Like the time you’re standing beside him at a press event, and someone asks a question about his playboy lifestyle.

He laughs, playing it up for the cameras. “You know me, I’m a man of many talents.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Most of which involve ignoring my carefully planned schedule.”

He turns to you, smirking. “See? This is why I keep her around. She keeps me humble.”

The reporter grins. “Y/N, what’s the secret to handling Tony Stark?”

You glance at him, and for a split second, you forget about the cameras. Forget about the audience.

“He’s not as much of a handful as people think,” you say, voice quieter, more honest than you mean it to be.

Tony blinks, and for the first time in a long time, he actually looks surprised.

The internet notices.

"DID YOU SEE HIS FACE WHEN SHE SAID THAT?? Bro was not expecting her to be SWEET."

"‘He’s not as much of a handful as people think’ MA’AM. MA’AM. ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH HIM??"

"I swear to god Tony is just waiting for her to admit it at this point."

The dress is too much. That’s your first thought as you stare at yourself in the full-length mirror, smoothing your hands down the fabric. It’s expensive—of course, it is. Tony sent it over himself, and you’d bet good money that it cost more than your rent.

It’s stunning, undeniably so, hugging in all the right places, the deep color making your skin glow under the soft lighting of your bedroom. Your makeup is flawless, your hair styled perfectly, and for once, you don’t look like Tony Stark’s overworked assistant.

You look like a woman on the arm of a billionaire.

Which, technically, you are.

Just for tonight.

It’s not that unusual for Tony to bring you to events, but tonight is different. There’s no work agenda, no schedule to maintain. For this one night, you’re not his assistant—you’re his date.

The word lingers in your mind, foreign but not unwelcome.

There’s a knock at your door.

“You decent?” Tony’s voice is light, teasing, but when you open the door, he just stops.

His mouth parts slightly as his gaze sweeps over you, lingering at your exposed collarbone, the way the dress clings to your curves. For once, he’s silent, and you think that might be the most shocking part.

You raise an eyebrow. “Well?”

Tony blinks, then clears his throat, smoothing a hand down the front of his sleek, tailored suit. “Yep. Nope. I was prepared for this. I am handling this just fine.”

You fight back a smile. “You sure?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he says, stepping back so you can follow him. “Just casually rethinking all my life choices and trying to figure out how I got lucky enough to have you on my arm tonight.”

Your heart does something stupid in your chest, but you roll your eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Stark.”

He smirks. “Worth a shot.”

The drive to the event is smooth, the car sleek and comfortable, but your nerves kick in the second you see the flashing lights ahead, the crowd of reporters, the sea of cameras waiting.

Tony notices.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice warm and steady beside you. “You look incredible. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”

You exhale, forcing yourself to nod. “Right. Just another night.”

“Exactly,” he says. “Except this time, when they ask me who I’m with, I get to say you.”

Before you can overthink it, the door opens, and suddenly, you’re stepping onto the red carpet with Tony Stark’s hand resting at the small of your back. The flashes are blinding, the noise overwhelming, but Tony guides you through it with practiced ease, nodding and smirking at the cameras like he was born for this.

Reporters immediately start shouting questions.

“Tony! Who’s your date tonight?”

“Y/N, how does it feel to be on Stark’s arm instead of his payroll?”

“Why her, Tony? Out of all the women in the world, why did you choose your assistant?”

Tony grins, pulling you just a little closer. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he says, his tone dripping with amusement. “Some secrets are just for me.”

Your face burns, and you’re grateful when you’re ushered forward, past the press and into the venue. The inside is just as extravagant as expected—glittering chandeliers, champagne flowing, a sea of celebrities dressed to impress.

And, of course, that’s when it happens.

The actor is objectively handsome—tall, broad-shouldered, a charming smile that probably makes half the world swoon. You recognize him immediately, a famous action star, one of the many guests mingling at the event.

And for some reason, he’s interested in you.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he says, his gaze sweeping over you in obvious appreciation. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I would have remembered.”

You offer a polite smile, feeling Tony shift beside you. “Y/N,” you say, extending a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Y/N,” he repeats, his own smile widening as he takes your hand. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

Tony’s grip on his champagne flute tightens.

You catch the slight tick in his jaw, the way his entire posture stiffens. Oh. Oh, this is interesting.

The actor keeps talking, asking about your work, throwing in more compliments than necessary, and you can feel Tony practically vibrating beside you.

And then—just to push it a little—you laugh at something the actor says, placing a hand on his arm.

It’s nothing. Completely innocent.

But Tony clears his throat sharply. “Hey, buddy,” he says, voice light but just a little too loud. “You mind if I borrow my date for a second?”

The emphasis is unmistakable.

The actor, blissfully unaware of the silent tantrum Tony is throwing, just grins and nods. “Of course. It was a pleasure, Y/N.”

Tony is already pulling you away before you can respond.

He doesn’t stop until you’re outside, away from the crowd, in a quiet balcony area overlooking the city lights.

You turn to him, crossing your arms. “Are you jealous, Stark?”

He scoffs. “Me? Jealous? Please.”

You step closer, tilting your head. “You sure?”

He huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine. Maybe I didn’t love watching that guy drool all over you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Because?”

He meets your gaze, and suddenly, all the teasing, all the bravado—everything—falls away.

“Because you’re mine,” he says simply. “Or at least, I want you to be.”

Your breath catches.

Tony exhales, running a hand down his face. “I know I joke around a lot, and I know I’m a lot to deal with, but I need you to know that this—us—it’s not a game to me. It never has been.”

Your heart is pounding.

He takes a step closer, his voice softer now. “I’ve been in love with you for a while, Y/N. And I know it took you a little longer to get there, but…” His lips twitch up. “You’re here now. Right?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m here.”

And then his hands are on your waist, pulling you against him, and your arms are wrapping around his neck, and then—

He kisses you.

It’s slow at first, careful, like he’s savoring it, but then you make a small noise against his lips, and suddenly, the restraint snaps. His hands tighten, his lips moving against yours with something deeper, more desperate, more real than anything you’ve ever known.

When you finally break apart, your forehead rests against his, your breath mingling.

“Wow,” you murmur.

Tony chuckles, his fingers brushing against your jaw. “Yeah. Wow.”

And then—

“Oh. Oh.”

You freeze.

Tony groans, turning to find one of the cameramen standing there, eyes wide.

“Are you serious?” Tony grits out.

The guy winces. “I—I swear, I wasn’t trying to film that—I just—okay, yeah, the cameras got everything.”

Tony sighs heavily, rubbing his temples. “Of course they did.”

You stare at him for a moment, then—

You start laughing.

Tony blinks at you. “Are you—are you seriously laughing right now?”

You nod, still giggling. “It’s just—of course this happens to us.”

Tony shakes his head, but a smirk tugs at his lips. “Guess the secret’s out, huh?”

You grin, reaching for his hand. “Guess so.”

And honestly?

You don’t mind one bit.

The internet explodes.

The second the episode drops, social media ignites like someone threw gasoline on an open flame. The clip of you and Tony kissing—your whispered words, his confession, the way he pulls you in like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered—spreads like wildfire.

"I’M SCREAMING. I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS REAL."

"The way Tony looked at her BEFORE the kiss? He’s been GONE for her. Absolutely down bad."

"We all knew it. We KNEW it. But seeing it happen is just chef’s kiss perfection."

"'You’re mine. Or at least, I want you to be.' That’s it. That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. I need a Tony Stark in my life."

"I can’t believe the cameras caught this. The way they got lost in each other? They weren’t even thinking about the cameras. That’s REAL."

"How do I file a lawsuit for emotional damage? I was NOT prepared."

Memes flood the timeline. Screenshots of Tony’s jealous expression when the actor flirted with you. Edits of your kiss set to dramatic music. Slow-motion compilations of every single time Tony had looked at you that way throughout the show.

The fans had always speculated, always hoped, but this? This is confirmation. And they are obsessed.

Of course, there are reactions from the media too. News outlets pick up the story immediately.

“Billionaire Tony Stark Off the Market—Confirms Romance with Longtime Assistant”

“The Stark Reality’s Latest Episode Features a Moment No One Expected—But Everyone Wanted”

“From Work Partners to Life Partners—The Love Story of Tony Stark and Y/N”

And through it all, Tony is thriving.

Because of course, he is.

At first, you don’t know what to expect from him. If he’s going to act differently now that the world knows. If he’s going to keep things professional in front of the cameras or tone down the way he touches you, the way he teases.

Nope.

If anything, he gets worse.

The next time the cameras are on, Tony makes absolutely no attempt to be subtle about the fact that you’re his now.

Like the moment in the kitchen when you’re making coffee, and he walks in, shirtless, hair still messy from sleep.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You tense for half a second, eyes flicking to the camera set up on the counter. “Tony—”

“What?” he hums, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I can’t say good morning to my girlfriend?”

Your face heats. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

The internet LOSES IT.

"TONY CASUALLY SHOWING UP SHIRTLESS TO CUDDLE HER?? I’M IN SHAMBLES."

"They’re acting like a real couple now. This is NOT a drill."

"Petition to make sure Tony is shirtless in every episode from now on."

Or the time you’re sitting on the couch, working on your tablet, and Tony just flops down, draping himself across your lap.

“Tony,” you sigh, adjusting your grip on the tablet. “I’m working.”

He looks up at you with that damn smirk. “I’m cuddling. Way more important.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you still love me.”

Your lips twitch, but you refuse to indulge him. “Debatable.”

His eyes narrow. “Oh, you wound me.”

The cameras catch it all—the way you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair despite your protests, the way he practically purrs under your touch, the way you smile just a little when you think no one is looking.

They eat it up.

"HIM LAYING IN HER LAP. THIS IS PEAK ROMANCE."

"You’re telling me Tony Stark went from billionaire playboy to a man who begs for cuddles? I LOVE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT."

"The way she plays it cool but is clearly obsessed with him? Relatable."

It’s not just the cuddling. It’s the stolen kisses, the lingering touches, the casual intimacy of a couple that has been circling each other for years and is finally allowed to have each other.

And Tony? Tony is having the time of his life.

He lives to fluster you on camera.

Like when you’re organizing his schedule in the office, completely focused, and he suddenly leans in, whispering in your ear, “You looked really good in my bed this morning.”

You choke on absolutely nothing. “Tony—”

“What?” He’s grinning, utterly unrepentant. “Just making an observation.”

You shove a folder at him. “Sign this before I kill you.”

His laughter follows you down the hall.

"THE WAY SHE CHOKED. HE KNOWS WHAT HE’S DOING."

"Did he just CONFIRM they sleep together? Sir, have mercy."

"Tony Stark is officially the clingiest boyfriend in existence, and I respect that."

Despite the teasing, despite the relentless public scrutiny, it’s good.

Better than you expected.

The realization hits you on a slow morning, when the sun is barely up and your body is still heavy with sleep.

You don’t even think as you roll out of bed, stretching lazily before heading toward the kitchen for coffee. The floor is cool against your bare feet, the oversized shirt you’re wearing—Tony’s, of course—falling mid-thigh. Your hair is a mess, your eyes half-closed, and you let out a soft yawn as you step into the kitchen.

And then—

“Oh. Oh.”

It’s the cameraman again. The same poor guy who accidentally caught your first kiss with Tony.

You blink at him. He blinks at you.

There’s a beat of silence before it clicks in your sleepy brain.

“Shit.”

You spin on your heel, all but sprinting back to the bedroom.

Tony is still sprawled across the bed, barely awake, his hair sticking up in every direction. He cracks one eye open as you dive under the covers, groaning.

“Uh… good morning?” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

You grab a pillow and shove your face into it. “I forgot about the cameras.”

There’s a pause. Then, a rustling of sheets as Tony shifts closer, draping an arm over your back. “Okay… and?”

You groan. “I walked out there wearing just your shirt.”

Silence. Then—

Tony cackles.

You lift your head just enough to glare at him. “This is not funny.”

“This is hilarious,” he corrects, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Damn. I wish I’d seen it.”

You smack his chest. “Focus, Tony! That footage is out there.”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he soothes, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We’ll make sure it doesn’t air.”

But the incident sticks with you.

Because the truth is, you and Tony don’t have much privacy anymore.

The show has been fun—chaotic, ridiculous, but fun. And yet, it’s always there. The cameras catch everything—the teasing, the bickering, the moments when Tony pulls you into his lap just because he can now, the late nights spent tangled up in each other, and even the mornings when you wake up to find him watching you with something terrifyingly soft in his eyes.

Some moments are meant to be just for you.

And that’s when you know.

It’s time to end The Stark Reality.

Tony doesn’t even hesitate when you bring it up.

“Done,” he says easily, lacing his fingers with yours. “Let’s wrap it up.”

There’s a finality to it that makes your chest ache. The show has been his, in a way—one of his crazy ideas, something he threw himself into because he loves the attention, the spotlight. But he’s willing to let it go.

For you.

The last episode airs a week later.

And of course, Tony makes sure it goes out with a bang.

The final scene is classic Tony. He’s sitting on the couch, arms draped over the back, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“So,” he begins, looking straight into the camera. “This is it. The end of The Stark Reality.”

He pauses, like he’s waiting for dramatic effect.

“Or is it?”

You, sitting beside him, roll your eyes. “Tony.”

“What?” He gestures vaguely. “I’m just saying. Maybe the next time you see us, it’ll be in the documentary about our wedding.”

Your soul leaves your body.

The internet erupts.

"WEDDING?? HELLO?? THEY’VE BEEN DATING FOR TWO MONTHS??"

"TONY STARK, YOU CANNOT JUST DROP THAT AND LEAVE."

"Blink twice if you need help, Y/N."

And it doesn’t stop there.

“Or,” Tony continues, completely unfazed by your scandalized expression, “maybe another season of The Stark Reality… with our kids.”

You choke on air. “Tony.”

“Hey,” he says, throwing his hands up. “People love a good family reality show. Gotta give the fans what they want.”

The show ends with you smacking him with a pillow as he cackles.

"TONY, STOP PLAYING WITH MY EMOTIONS."

"IS SHE PREGNANT?? IS THIS A HINT?? I NEED ANSWERS."

"Manifesting a Stark wedding and mini Starks immediately."

The reaction is insane.

Theories explode overnight. People analyze everything—the way Tony said our wedding, the way he casually mentioned kids, the way you covered your face in embarrassment but didn’t deny anything.

Some are convinced you’re already engaged. Others think you’re secretly pregnant. A few believe Tony is just being Tony—chaotic, dramatic, and completely unserious.

But you know better.

Because when the cameras stop rolling, when it’s just you and him curled up in bed that night, he leans in, brushing his lips against your temple.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, “I was kinda serious.”

You shift, tilting your head to look at him. “About what?”

He smirks. “Marrying you. The kids. The whole thing.”

Your breath catches. “Tony—”

“I know, I know,” he says, waving a hand. “It’s only been two months. But let’s be real, sweetheart. This thing between us?” His fingers trace absent circles on your back. “It’s been happening for years.”

You bite your lip, your heart pounding.

“Just… something to think about,” he says, voice softer now. “No pressure.”

And you realize—he means it.

Tony Stark, the man who once ran from commitment like it was a ticking bomb, is ready for this.

For you.

You press a kiss to his jaw, your chest warm with something terrifyingly close to forever.

And for the first time, the cameras aren’t there to capture it.

Just the way it should be.

part 2 anyone ?

[deathbyathousandspiders]

IN WHICH stark!reader witnesses her father’s final breath after he saves the world.

writing this specifically for @inkedeye2345 because tbh it takes a comment to realize people actually want to see second parts to the posts i make :,)

i forget that people actually enjoy my writing and i’m not making it up—

read part one here if you want!

disclaimer: heavy angst, this is the saddest thing i have written to date.

you cannot charge me for your therapy bills.

i love yall 3000 🫶🫶

thank you for supporting me :,)

✨masterlist✨.

1.1k.

The battlefield was soaked with soot and blood, overlapping and mixing with each other. Mixing between your foes and your teammates. It was an overwhelming sight to see, an overwhelming scene to be a part of. Nothing you ever anticipated witnessing, and nothing you ever wanted to witness again. 

Rages and cries and striking weaponry sang symphonies as they clashed with one another. Blistered feet and Chuck Taylor’s carried you across the rubble of the compound as fast as they could, your hammering heart drowning out the sound of the war around you as you ran for your life. Ran towards your father. 

From where you were, even as the distance shortened, it was hard to tell what was happening. Six different colors shimmered their way up Tony’s right arm, resting on each knuckle with a shine that stars themselves envied. You shielded yourself from the blinding light, only for a second. That second was long enough to know that whatever your dad was doing, it weakened him. You wanted to stop it. 

You needed to stop it. 

Perhaps forty or so feet remained between you and your dad before he snapped his fingers, and you froze. Against your will, you froze. Deep down, in the stillness of the air, in the bright light emitting from his right hand of color, you knew what was happening. You knew what he was doing. 

“Dad..” It slipped from your lips before you could stop it, before the tears could sting your eyes. You stepped, paced, walked, jogged– ran. Your feet could not carry you quick enough, far enough, soon enough. Heart plummeting, breath shallowing, you didn’t pay enough attention to hear the dying war cries, the dying battle. Your eyes remained on your father. 

He slumped where he was, half of his body, his face, turning to something resembling the soot beneath you. And still, pushing past the pain of sacrifice, the pain of the losses he didn’t have the time to count, he met your eyes. Some pained, relieved, fatherly smile spread across his face. You both shed tears at the notion. 

You both knew it would be the last grin he had in him. 

You fell to your knees to meet him, tripping on a rock and still catching your tumble with grace. Sliding straight for him, all you could manage was to outstretch your arms and wrap them around him. A sob crawled out from you, at the fact that this would be your last hug or the fact that Tony did not even have the strength to return it, you couldn’t tell. 

Violent cries shook your entire body as you held him, but you needed to force yourself out of the anguished state. Tony saved the world from sorrow bigger than your comprehension, and you couldn’t let his last few moments be filled with sadness. You couldn’t let his dying breath be used to comfort your grief. 

One deep breath was all you needed to compose yourself. You swallowed the sobs as they came up, pulling back from the hug and leaning your dad back on a rock. You felt the eyes of each of your teammates slowly find some way to the two of you, but you knew that making eye contact with any of them would break your composure. 

You needed to be strong right now. 

A sniffle, and you forced a grin to mirror his, tears slipping through the seems of the dam you failed to build. “You did it, Dad.” Another sniffle, a squeeze of his shoulder, a solid hold on his hand. His hand that was too weak to tremble, a hand that felt cold as ice in your grasp. You mustered a breath, playing off a sob like a choke of air. A cough, perhaps. “I’m so proud of you.” The words left your lips with a tremor, a break in the cracks. You weren’t going to last. And neither would he.

Your father taught you well to hide your vulnerability, to mask your struggle. “Though I wish you’d let me beat you to it.” Something sad of a laugh broke through, tripping on the hollowing coating your mouth and the lump forming in your throat. That weakened squeeze within your fingers told you that Tony was glad he had beaten you to it, beaten you to the one thing he did not want you to do. 

As much as you, too, did not want to do this, be the one to sacrifice, you would have done anything to keep him there. To keep your father alive, to keep your best friend living. Yet, you failed to do so.

Peter’s presence beside you felt like a beacon of solitude. The last space of comfort you had left. Your right temple met his left shoulder, though you did not dare tear your watering eyes from Tony’s. His slow blinks and wheezing breaths would not last more than a moment longer, and you tried to memorize the feeling of his warmth while you could. The warmth of your father. 

He grabbed Tony’s left hand, his right hand grabbing yours as tight as he could. “We won, Mister Stark.” The shaken voice Peter spoke in told you he was breaking just as much as you were at the sight of Tony so tattered. It both broke you and brought you reassurance. 

“I’ll take care of her, Tony..” Peter’s whispered words shattered every guard you bore to keep yourself composed. It tore you to pieces, and how could it not? How fucked up did you have to be to try and push away the pain of losing your father? Your shoulders shook at the weight of the despair, the unbelievable pain that could not be bandaged. “It’s okay.” You could not tell whether Peter lulled the words to you or your father, but the two words were all Tony needed to hear before he, too, tore down his guards. 

The light fled his eyes the same moment the arc reactor shut off. The moment he died.

A gasp joined the mixture of your shallow breathing, your shaken sobbing, at the weight of Tony’s hand going limp in yours. He was lifeless, dead. Gone. Your father was gone. 

You pressed a tearful kiss to his fingers one last time before laying the hand at his side, leaning forward to shut Tony’s eyes to sleep forever. The second you leaned back, Peter wrapped you in his arms, allowing you to release the feeling and trauma of enduring the scene you knew would haunt you forever. 

The cost of his life for yours was a debt you would never be able to repay. A life–for–a–life kind of payback you knew you’d always fall short of. You just hoped he was right to keep you from making the sacrifice he was destined for. 

You just hoped you would be worth it. 

[animealways]

tony and his child

tony: i recently found out mickey mouse has a kid

y/n with a major voice crack: wHaT?!

tony: you didn't know this?

y/n: nO!

tony: wait i need to look up the name as well its so funny

y/n: oH mAh gAd this is just as bad when i found out hello kitty has a boyfriend

tony now with a major voice crack: hElLo KiTtY hAs A bOyFrIeNd?!?

y/n: hello kitty has a boyfriend!

[mischievous-thunder]

[shower-phantom-ideas]

More au stuf lets gooooooooo

Danny keeps masks of each superhero for when he visits their citys/towns/wtfe to wear while heroing there.

He 100% knows it just Amity Parks problem that they don’t connect Fenton and Phantom and he doesn’t wanna be outed and chanced around by the government in both forms. So he needs a mask. Well he has shit taste and both Sam and Tucker dismissed any he made so he said “fuck it ill use theirs” and just gets cheap costume masks for all the heros.

Why is he going from town to town though? Dani is taking him on a tour of all the best and weirdest food trucks she has found on her travels. Who cares if CW also has some missions for him while hes in those towns. Hes here for the food 100% sorry Clocky u r a side quest.

[yandere-wishes]

Okay, okay, I have an alarming list of fics to write before my summer vacay is over. BUT...

Would anyone like a Yandere Tony Stark x reader? I know Marvel isn't even remotely popular (or even liked) anymore. Still, the original movies are very dear to me. And this character specifically has always had a special place in my heart. Since it's summer and I'm starting to feel nostalgic I figured why not write for the legend himself?

So should I write it? Does anyone want to be tagged if I do?

[vikwrites]

" DAEMONUIUM " - Tony Stark

Chapter Summary ➣ The Fall of Stark Castle. Pairing ➣ Fallen Prince!Tony Stark x Reader Word Count ➣ 611 words Chapter Warnings ➣ Medieval! AU, Slow Burn, Violence, Major Character Death. Author's Notes ➣ An idea by @welldonekhushi, a bit different to what I usually write, next chapter will hopefully provide more context. Thank you to my lovely beta reader @nicoline1998enilocin <3

Prologue - Overture

The rope felt rough against the Prince’s neck.

Tapestries of silk, once proudly displaying the kingdom’s colours and emblems, have been shredded from their rods, some burnt into meagre piles of ash; the rest torn by the passage of time and faded by the harsh sun. 

The throne, once a shining beacon in the grand hall, now stands in solitude. Its layers of gold leaf have been stripped away, revealing the cold iron underneath. The brilliant gemstones that adorned its surface have been pillaged and looted, leaving only empty settings behind. The rows of stained glass windows, each depicting a moment of the kingdom's triumphs, are now shattered, their intricate designs marred into shards. 

The peasants stormed the palace. They came in hordes of near thousands, pitchforks and flames in hand. The grand doors splintered under their force, crashing open to reveal the opulent corridors within. The echoes of their cries reverberated off the stone walls as they surged forward, a seething mass of defiance against the monarchy. The nobles, once standing proud and untouchable, now cowered in their gilded chambers, the unfortunate ones having been slaughtered in cold blood.

The same could not be said for the Prince. For he ran, like a swift wind through every nook and cranny of the castle — up twisting stairwells, down spiralling towers — the peasant’s voices like cries of the damned — the walls quaking with emancipated rage, like the first leak in the wall of a dam, forewarning that nothing could hold for long. His patterned robe dragged upon the floor, stained red with blue blood.

His legs could only carry him so far; he found himself perched at the edge of the turret, overlooking the dark horizon and the sheer drop into the ocean below, the waves crashing against the splintered rocks. He could hear the peasants’ voices as they approached, drawing closer by the second. It dawned on him that death was not a matter of when, but how.

“ There he is, ”  — fear became a tangible, living force, creeping over his figure like some ravenous beast, holding him in a standstill — “ Seize him! ” 

The Prince was bound; not by silver shackles or golden chains, but by simple rope. He was marched like cattle out of the palace gates, being put on as a barbaric display of irreverence; a sovereign turned laughing stock in the span of a night. The peasants scrambled like rats, just for the chance to witness the spectacle. 

Amidst the crackling of bonfires and the scorching heat. His body trembled with cold, but his mind burned with anger — with memories of the firelight still drifting like phantoms in his brain. 

Tears fall from the Prince’s eyes. They meander down his cheeks. 

That fateful second before the floorboards dropped, the Prince pondered if he had anything left to save in death.  He stands in solitude on the gallows. While the Cardinal recited blessings in Latin, the words in the people’s mouths were nothing but curses, laced with vitriol and the name of the Devil, lashing out like a bitten and cornered dog, condemning him to the deepest rings of Hell.

The creak of the floorboards, the roar of the crowd — these were among the last things he would hear before he died. His eyes did not bear remorse; instead, they held shame, to be stripped from the high chambers of the castle and reduced to the same fate as a lowly outlaw. 

What he’d give to be a young prince again, adorned with jewels and veneration — now he’s traded in his necklace for a noose — 

The Prince took his last few straggling breaths, and the floor gave way beneath him.

⎊ back to masterlist

[xxplastic-cubexx]

this cliff took more lives than i could on my own im losing it

[fanartka]

imagine Doctor Strange meeting Tony before the car accident. Or maybe it's Khan?

[mostly-marvel-musings]

If combining prompts is allowed, can you do “Tease me some more and I’ll show you my reaction.” + “Hmm, is that a threat or a promise?” for Tony Stark, please?

A/N: This is just a little something! I changed it up a bit. Tony’s a little shit. Enjoy :)

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

.

He was doing it on purpose. Knowing just how much it riled you up.

Tony Stark. The billionaire. The exhibitionist. The fucking tease.

Clad in the damned black tank that glowed faint blue right in the middle, hair in such disarray it made you want to run your fingers through them and perhaps give them a harsh tug. He deserved it.

It had been distracting enough with that devil tongue of his that peeked out every once in a while to wet his bottom lip. His choice of clothing effectively showed off that toned upper body. Ripped arms with veins popping that had your core clench around nothing, chiseled abs evident through the thin piece of black fabric and the red goggles that hid his gorgeous brown eyes. Damn it. He was a sight.

And he was well aware of the effect he had on you. The smug bastard. He would go to any lengths to make you admit your feelings. Feelings you had carefully concealed so far.

Thankful that the work desk hid your lower body, you kept your head down as you squeezed your thighs together in attempts to relieve some of the sexual frustration. But nothing quite missed Tony’s eye. Especially when he was on this personal mission.

You heard a water splash that made you look up. Big mistake. 

Tony had ‘accidentally’ spilled water down his tank top and was taking it off agonisingly slowly, a show put up just for you. His taut muscles gleamed under the artificial lights of his lab as he undressed, dabbing his wet skin as he traipsed in your line of vision once again.

“Tease me some more and I’ll show you my reaction.” You mumbled under your breath, giving yourself a mental shake as your mind conjured up an image in which you were bent of the very desk you sat at, while the genius mechanic railed you from behind.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He murmured, giving his signature smirk as he leaned forward, his stupidly handsome face mere inches away.

Tony Stark was a man determined to have your stubborn ass under him by the end of the day. And quite safe to say, he succeeded.

[ironinc]

Dangerous Riches.ᝰ.ᐟ 

Tony Stark x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ You are married to Tony Stark, who leads a double life as a wealthy billionaire and a cunning drug lord. Despite being aware of his illegal business, your love for him clashes with your morals. Your life with him presents numerous challenges as you navigate the treacherous world of crime and grapple with the difficult decision of trusting him.

⤷ Oneshot, smut, oral sex, very detailed so here’s the warning! But it’s worth it. 

⤷ A/N: I got this inspo from the edit that I’m gonna leave down there v. I can’t beleive I haven’t hought of this sooner. I hope you all are enjoying you’re night! 

⤷ Word count: 2,430

⤷ Special song to add spice: All I Need by Lloyd

⟡

“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” Tony murmurs, his voice low and smooth, like velvet dipped in honey. His hand brushes against the small of your back, a subtle but possessive gesture that sends a shiver through you. 

You’re standing in the middle of his opulent penthouse, the city lights of New York twinkling like fallen stars through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind you. The air is thick with tension, the kind that makes your heart race and your skin prickle.

You don’t want to look away, but you can’t help it. Your gaze shifts to the man across the room—tall, broad-shouldered, with a scar running down his cheek. He’s not the kind of man you’d want to cross, and yet here he is, standing in your living room, making a deal with your husband.

Your husband. Tony Stark. The man who spoils you rotten, who buys you everything your heart desires, who makes you feel like a queen in his arms. And yet, the man who leads a double life, one that you’ve only glimpsed in the shadows until now.

“You’re staring,” Tony says, his voice cutting through the silence. His fingers tighten on your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Don’t.”

“Tony,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “What’s going on?”

“Business, baby. Just business.” He’s calm, too calm, and it’s unnerving. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

But you are worried. Because you’ve seen the way the other man looks at you like you’re a prize to be won. And you’ve heard the whispers, the rumors about Tony’s other life—the one that involves drugs, money, and power.

── .✦

It started, as most things do, with a gift.

Two weeks ago, Tony surprised you with the keys to a brand-new BMW i7. “For my queen,” he’d said, pressing the keys into your hand. You’d laughed, of course, because Tony was always lavish with his gifts. But there was something different about this one, something that made you pause.

You’d taken the car out for a spin, the engine purring beneath you, the smell of leather and money filling your senses. But when you’d pulled into a coffee shop downtown, you’d seen him—Tony, standing in the alleyway, talking to a man you didn’t recognize.

You’d watched, your heart pounding, as Tony handed over a briefcase, the man nodding before disappearing into the shadows.

You’d confronted him that night, of course. “What was that?” you’d asked, your voice shaking. “Tony, what are you involved in?

He’d kissed you then, his lips silencing your questions. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” he’d said, pulling you into his arms. “It’s just business.”

But it wasn’t just business. And tonight, standing in the penthouse, you’re starting to realize just how deep the rabbit hole goes.

── .✦

“You’ve got a beautiful wife, Stark,” the man across the room says, his voice rough and guttural. “She’s a keepsake.”

Tony’s grip on your waist tightens a silent warning. “She’s off-limits,” he says, his voice icy. “Don’t even think about it.”

The man laughs a deep, throaty sound that makes your skin crawl. 

“Relax, Stark. I’m just admiring the view.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry. You’ve always known Tony was a man of power, a man who got what he wanted. But seeing him like this—cold, calculating, dangerous—it’s both terrifying and exhilarating. You feel like you’re standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering between fear and desire.

“Go upstairs, baby,” Tony says, his voice soft but commanding. He hands you a thick envelope—cash, you know because Tony always gives you cash to keep you busy. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

You nod, your legs shaky as you make your way to the staircase. But you don’t go upstairs. Instead, you linger in the shadows, watching, listening.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Stark,” the man says, his tone serious now. “You think you can keep her out of this? She’s in it now, whether you like it or not.”

Tony doesn’t respond, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, and the way his jaw clenches. And then, in a voice so low you can barely hear it, he says, “She’s off-limits. If you touch her, I’ll kill you.”

Your heart stops. You’ve never heard Tony sound like that—so cold, so deadly. It sends a shiver down your spine, and yet, a part of you is drawn to it, to the power he exudes, the way he’d do anything to protect you.

── .✦

Later that night, you’re lying in bed, the silk sheets cool against your skin. Tony’s beside you, his body warm and solid as he pulls you into his arms.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’m scared, Tony,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m scared.”

He sighs, his fingers tracing patterns on your back. “You don’t need to be scared, baby. I’ve got you. I’ll always protect you.”

But you’re not sure if that’s enough anymore. Because you’ve seen the other side of Tony, the side that’s dark and dangerous. And you’re not sure if you can love that side of him, or if you even should.

“Tony,” you say, your voice trembling. “What are you involved in? Tell me the truth.”

He’s silent for a moment, his fingers stilling on your skin. And then, in a voice that’s heavy with regret, he says, “It’s complicated, baby. But you’re my wife. My queen. I’d do anything for you.”

“Anything?” you ask, your heart pounding.

“Anything,” he repeats, his voice firm. “But you have to trust me.”

You want to trust him. You really do. But as you lie in his arms, the weight of his words pressing down on you, you’re not sure if you can.

── .✦

The roses arrived the next morning, a dozen deep crimson blooms wrapped in black tissue paper. A card was tucked among the thorns, the handwriting bold and slashing: For the most beautiful woman in New York, with admiration—Unknown. You froze, the card slipping from your fingers as your heart thudded in your chest. The scent of the roses was intoxicating, but it only made your stomach churn.

Tony walked in just as you were staring at the arrangement, his sharp eyes immediately locking onto the flowers. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the room felt colder. “Who sent those?” he asked, his voice low and deceptively calm.

You swallowed hard, knowing there was no point in lying. “There was a card. It said… ‘Unknown.’”

Tony’s expression darkened, and you could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he plucked one of the roses from the arrangement. He twirled it between his fingers, his gaze never leaving yours. “Unknown, huh?” he said, his voice dripping with menace. “That scarred bastard thinks he can send my wife flowers? What the fuck does he think he’s doing?”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, the intensity of his jealousy both terrifying and thrilling. “Tony, I don’t know what he’s trying to do. Maybe it’s just a game to him.”

He scoffed, tossing the rose onto the table. “A game?” he repeated, stepping so close you could feel the heat of his body. “He’s trying to play with me. And he thinks he can use you to do it.” His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him. “But he doesn’t know who he’s messing with.”

You could feel the tension radiating off him, his possessive jealousy igniting something primal inside you. His lips crashed onto yours in a searing kiss, rough and demanding. You gasped into his mouth, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he backed you toward the wall.

His hands were everywhere, sliding under your shirt and peeling it off in one swift motion. His lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he growled, “You’re mine. Do you understand? No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to look at you like that.”

You nodded breathlessly, your body arching into his as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down. “Tony,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

He stepped back just long enough to shed his own clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. “You belong to me,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill through you. “And I’m going to remind you of that.”

He picked you up effortlessly, carrying you to the large dining table and clearing it with one sweep of his arm. The vase of roses toppled to the floor, shattering as he laid you down on the cool surface. His hands pinned yours above your head, his grip firm but not painful. “You see those flowers?” he asked, his voice dark and commanding. “They’re nothing compared to what I’m about to give you.”

His lips found yours again, his kiss hot and insistent as he let go of your wrists and began to explore your body with his hands. His fingers trailed down your sides, grazing over your sensitive skin before dipping between your thighs. You gasped, your legs parting instinctively as he stroked you, his touch deliberate and unyielding.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded, his voice rough with desire.

“You,” you breathed, your hips lifting off the table as his fingers worked their magic. “I belong to you, Tony.”

He growled in approval, his lips moving to your breasts as he continued to tease you. His tongue flicked over your nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through you as he sucked hard. You moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on your sensitive flesh.

He pulled back suddenly, his eyes blazing as he reached into the drawer of the table and pulled out a silk scarf. You recognized it immediately—it was one of the expensive ones he’d bought for you on your last shopping spree. But now, he had a different use for it.

“Trust me,” he said, his voice soft but firm as he tied your wrists together with the scarf. You nodded, your heart racing as he secured them to the leg of the table. You were completely at his mercy, and the thought sent a rush of heat through your core.

He stepped back, his eyes roaming over your bound body with unmistakable hunger. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “And you’re all mine.”

He knelt between your legs, his hands parting your thighs as he leaned in. His breath was hot against your skin, and you squirmed in anticipation. 

But he didn’t give you what you wanted just yet. Instead, he began to tease you with his tongue, flicking lightly over your clit before pulling away.

“Tony, please,” you begged, your hips lifting off the table in desperation.

He chuckled, the sound dark and sinful. “You’re so eager,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

He leaned in again, this time taking you into his mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. You cried out, your back arching off the table as he lavished attention on your most sensitive spot. His tongue moved in expert circles, his hands gripping your hips to keep you still as he devoured you.

The pleasure was building quickly, your body trembling as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. But just as you were about to tip over, he pulled away, leaving you gasping and desperate.

“Tony!” you moaned, your voice breaking with frustration.

He stood, his expression smug as he looked down at you. “Patience, baby,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You’re not done yet.”

He positioned himself between your legs, his erection pressing against your entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours. “Tell me again,” he demanded, his voice rough with need.

“I’m yours,” you breathed, your voice trembling with desire. “I belong to you, Tony.”

He growled in approval, his hands gripping your hips as he thrust into you in one smooth motion. You cried out, the sensation was overwhelming as he filled you completely. He set a relentless pace, his hips slamming into yours with a primal urgency that left you breathless.

The table rocked with the force of his thrusts, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. You could feel the pleasure building inside you again, your body tightening around him as he drove you closer to the edge.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunted, his voice rough with exertion. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

His words were all it took to send you over the edge, your body convulsing as pleasure exploded through you. He followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself inside you with a low groan.

He collapsed onto the table beside you, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. His hands moved to untie the scarf, his touch gentle now as he freed your wrists. He pulled you into his arms, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice filled with possessiveness and something else—something softer. “No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to have you.”

You nestled into his chest, your body still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. “I know, Tony,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of fear and desire. “I’m yours.”

But somewhere in the back of your mind, a tiny voice whispered—what happens when ‘yours’ means more than you can handle?

As if sensing your thoughts, Tony pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “You okay, baby?” he asked, his voice softer now, more concerned.

You hesitated, your mind racing as you tried to find the words. “I… I don’t know, Tony. This is all so much. The roses, that man, the things you do… I’m scared.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

 “I know it’s a lot,” he said, his voice gentle. “But I’ll protect you. No matter what.”

You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that he could keep you safe in this dangerous world he’d dragged you into. But as you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm was only just beginning. Unknown wasn’t going to back down, and neither was Tony. 

And you were caught right in the middle.

This was the edit- CAN YOU SEE IT TOO?? GAHHHHH!!@(#(( I need that... my toes are CURLINGGGG.

(Credits: Jaffyae on TikTok)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ I'll see you later ‹𝟹

[amethystarachnid]

30. Holiday Movie Night with the Avengers (or X-Men) – The Avengers decide to have a Christmas movie marathon for the whole family. Your character is skeptical about the cheesy movies, but what happens when they get caught up in the holiday spirit?

My character is Tony Stark, please, and I'm a female reader ❤️ I was thinking that maybe they are best friends, and seeing how happy the reader is watching those movies, he'll realize he has feelings for her and in the next day he'll invite her to a date inspired in some movie scene and tell her he loves her and ask her to be his girlfriend and she'll say yes because she loves him too, and please, lots of kisses 🤭 ohh, and they can turn "watching movies" into their cute little tradition too 😊

Thank you 😊

MOVIE NIGHT & KISSES

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.7k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The living room of the Avengers compound looks like a Christmas card threw up all over it. Tony’s doing, obviously. You step inside, arms loaded with snacks—because you don’t trust Tony not to have stocked up exclusively on the weird gourmet stuff no one likes—and immediately trip over a tiny reindeer statue.

“Why?” you ask the air. Tony’s voice floats down the hallway before his actual appearance.

“Why what? Be more specific, or I’ll assume you’re asking why I’m fabulous.”

You roll your eyes and dump your cargo of chips, popcorn, and candy on the coffee table. “Why is there a deer the size of a toddler lying in wait for my ankles? It’s assault.”

Tony finally enters, grinning like he’s just pulled off a massive heist instead of, you know, redecorating. “You mean Blitzen? He’s festive. And you should really watch where you’re walking. Consider it a training exercise.”

“Blitzen,” you deadpan, already fishing around for scissors to open the snack bags. “You named the little menace Blitzen.”

“Of course, I did. What do you take me for, a savage? Anyway, what’s that—Pringles? Ugh, so pedestrian. Don’t worry, I’ve got foie gras chips in the kitchen.”

“Tony, no,” you say, cutting him off. “No one’s eating foie gras anything during movie night.”

“Fine. Keep your proletariat palate,” he huffs, but there’s no bite to it as he snags a bag of M&Ms and flops onto the couch like it’s claimed him.

The others start trickling in soon after, voices overlapping in that chaotic yet strangely comfortable way you’ve come to expect from these gatherings. Natasha is the first to spot the reindeer and gives you a knowing look.

“You trip over that thing yet?” she asks.

“Blitzen almost ended me,” you confirm, earning a snort.

“Is Tony naming inanimate objects again?” Steve asks, clearly trying and failing to hide a smile as he surveys the chaos.

“Not just naming them,” you say, gesturing at the garlands, twinkling lights, and a giant Santa hat perched on one corner of the TV. “He’s created an entire ecosystem.”

Thor, arriving last but with the biggest entrance, spots the reindeer and scoops it up like it’s an actual living thing. “What a curious creature!” he declares, cradling it as though it might respond. “May I keep it?”

“Absolutely not,” Tony says, looking horrified. “Blitzen is part of the ambiance.”

You try not to laugh, but it bubbles out anyway, and Tony shoots you a mock glare. “This is the respect I get from my so-called best friend? Unbelievable.”

“Your ‘best friend’ just saved movie night from foie gras chips, so I think I’ve earned the right to laugh,” you retort, throwing yourself onto the couch next to him.

The movie selection process devolves into chaos, as usual. Clint tries to sneak in a Christmas horror movie, Natasha threatens to walk out if it’s not something at least tolerable, and Steve insists on something “classic,” which somehow leads to a passionate argument over whether Die Hard qualifies as a Christmas movie.

Through it all, Tony leans closer to you, voice low. “If this debate goes on for another five minutes, I say we hijack the remote and put on Iron Man 3. Christmas and a superhero. Win-win.”

You snort, nudging him with your shoulder. “Tempting, but I don’t think your ego could survive the fallout.”

“Oh, please,” he replies, tossing an arm over the back of the couch—dangerously close to your shoulders, but you don’t mind. “My ego’s indestructible.”

Eventually, the group settles on a compromise: Home Alone, mostly because Thor declares he’s never seen it and everyone agrees watching his reactions will be worth it.

As the opening credits roll, Tony leans closer. “This is cozy,” he says, a bit quieter than usual. His fingers graze yours on the couch, almost hesitant.

It’s a small moment, but it feels like the beginning of something. You glance at him, catching his slight smirk and the way his eyes flick toward the screen—but not before they linger on you just a second too long.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling despite yourself. “It is.”

Kevin McCallister’s family is in full-on holiday chaos, and Thor is already narrating everything happening on screen like it’s the most thrilling battle sequence he’s ever witnessed.

“This small one is quite cunning,” Thor declares as Kevin rigs up a rudimentary alarm system using toy cars and string. “His enemies shall rue the day they underestimated him!”

“Thor, buddy,” Clint says between mouthfuls of popcorn, “we’re ten minutes in. The burglars haven’t even shown up yet.”

“Then they are fools!” Thor retorts, clutching the reindeer statue—Blitzen—to his chest like a comfort object. “He will outwit them with his warrior’s guile.”

Tony leans closer to you, and you can feel the warmth of him even before he murmurs, “You ever feel like we’re babysitting a very excitable golden retriever?”

You laugh, low and quiet. “A golden retriever with lightning powers. No pressure.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest where his arm is still casually draped over the back of the couch. You don’t even notice when his fingers start to toy idly with the fabric of your sleeve.

The movie continues, and Thor’s commentary only grows more dramatic. When Kevin sets up his elaborate booby traps, Thor sits up straighter, his eyes gleaming with admiration.

“A master tactician!” he declares, and when Kevin’s paint can swings down the stairs to clobber one of the burglars, Thor actually roars with laughter. “A fine blow! Truly, this child deserves to sit at the table of warriors!”

Natasha leans toward you, whispering just loud enough for you and Tony to hear. “We should tell Thor that Kevin’s real superpower is abandonment issues.”

Tony snorts into his drink, and you elbow him lightly. “Be nice,” you say, even though you’re stifling your own laughter.

The movie progresses, and somewhere between Kevin faking a party with mannequins and setting Harry’s head on fire, you start to shift closer to Tony without even realizing it. It’s not a conscious thing—you just naturally lean toward the warmth of him, especially when his arm slides from the back of the couch to drape over your shoulders.

You think it’s just Tony being Tony—he’s always been a tactile kind of guy, quick with a casual touch or a teasing nudge—but you don’t notice the way he freezes for half a second before relaxing again, his fingers brushing lightly against your upper arm.

The truth is, Tony’s barely paying attention to the movie anymore. He’s too busy fighting the sudden, overwhelming realization that he’s completely, undeniably in love with you. It hits him somewhere between Thor’s boisterous laughter and the way your hair catches the soft glow of the Christmas lights strung across the room.

He’s Tony Stark. He’s built suits that fly, survived impossible odds, and traded snark with gods—but the idea of telling you how he feels? That terrifies him.

So, instead, he lets himself have this moment. He lets himself enjoy the way you’re snuggled against his side, your head resting lightly against his shoulder, your laughter bright and unguarded as you watch the movie.

You, of course, are blissfully unaware of the internal crisis unfolding next to you. You’re too busy giggling at Thor’s indignant outrage when one of the burglars steps on a nail.

“That would never pierce true Asgardian steel!” Thor exclaims, pounding the arm of the couch for emphasis. “These mortal feet are most fragile.”

“It’s a movie, big guy,” Clint says, tossing a popcorn kernel in Thor’s direction. “You’re supposed to suspend disbelief.”

Thor catches the kernel mid-air with surprising grace and pops it into his mouth. “A strange custom,” he mutters, but he settles back down, still cradling Blitzen.

As the movie nears its climax, you shift slightly, tucking your legs up onto the couch. Without thinking, you rest your head more firmly against Tony’s shoulder, and his arm tightens around you just a fraction.

“This is nice,” you murmur, half to yourself.

“Yeah,” Tony replies, his voice softer than you’re used to hearing. “It is.”

He doesn’t look at the screen. He doesn’t need to. The way you fit against him, the way your laughter feels like the warmest part of the room—that’s all he cares about. But he’s Tony Stark, so he masks it with a quip. “Although I’m starting to feel personally attacked by how much Kevin loves duct tape.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest lightly. “If the suit fits…”

“I’ll have you know duct tape is a versatile and invaluable tool,” he says, grinning down at you. “It’s like me—underappreciated but indispensable.”

Natasha, who’s apparently been paying more attention to you two than the movie, leans over again. “You two gonna make it through the night without bickering like an old married couple, or should we set up counseling now?”

Tony doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d make an excellent husband, for the record.”

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm inexplicably. “Good to know, Tony. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He smirks, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his expression, something almost vulnerable, before he masks it with his usual bravado.

By the time the movie ends and Kevin’s family finally comes home, Thor is on his feet, applauding like he’s just witnessed the greatest cinematic masterpiece of all time.

“A truly glorious tale!” he declares. “The boy is a hero of the highest caliber. I must share this story with the warriors of Asgard.”

Steve claps Thor on the back, clearly trying not to laugh. “I’m sure they’ll love it, big guy.”

The group starts to disperse after that, everyone gathering up their plates and drinks and muttering goodnights. Tony’s still sitting with you on the couch, his arm loose around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You staying?” he asks casually, but there’s a note of something more in his voice.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling up at him. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

He grins, and for a moment, you think there’s something different in his eyes—something softer, warmer—but then he’s back to his usual self, teasing you about stealing the good spot on the couch.

Neither of you moves, though. The others leave, the credits roll, and the room quiets, but you and Tony stay there, comfortably tangled together under the glow of the Christmas lights.

You sit at the small kitchen table in your apartment, cradling a mug of coffee and scrolling through your phone. The morning sunlight streams through the window, catching on the tiny particles of dust floating lazily in the air. It’s quiet, peaceful, a welcome contrast to the loud, boisterous chaos of movie night at the compound. You’re mid-sip when your phone buzzes with a message, and you glance down to see the sender: “Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️.”

Tony. Of course.

You smirk to yourself—he hates that nickname, which makes it all the more satisfying that it’s what you’ve saved him as. Opening the message, you find it’s short and to the point.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Hey, you free tonight?

Your eyebrows raise. Not a “good morning” or even a “hope you survived Blitzen.” Classic Tony, straight to the point. You type back quickly.

You: What’s it to you, Stark?

The response comes almost immediately.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Just answer the question, smartass.

You laugh into your coffee, shaking your head. It’s too early for this.

You: Yeah, I’m free. Why?

This time, there’s a slight pause before his next message comes through.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Good. I’m picking you up at 7. Wear something nice.

You nearly choke on your coffee.

You: Excuse me? What is this?

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: It’s called dinner. People eat it.

You: Are you bribing me with food?

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: No, I’m taking you to a restaurant.

You: Is this a date, Stark?

You’re joking—mostly—but the reply that pops up a moment later makes you freeze.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Yeah.

You blink at the screen, half expecting the words to rearrange themselves into something less earth-shattering. They don’t.

You: Seriously?

Three dots appear, disappear, and then reappear. Somewhere across town, you know Tony is staring at his phone with the same level of panic you’re feeling.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: Yeah. Seriously.

Your heart stumbles into a gallop, and you stare at the phone, the words it’s a date looping in your mind like a broken record. You’re equal parts thrilled and terrified, your stomach doing flips like it’s auditioning for the circus. You’ve always known Tony flirts with anything that moves, but this… this feels different.

You: Okay. I’ll be ready.

You don’t know how you manage to type it without your hands shaking. On the other side of the city, Tony is probably sweating bullets, wondering if he’s just ruined everything. But as you set your phone down and glance at the clock, the only thing you can think is, Oh, God. I have nothing to wear.

By the time you’ve finished your breakfast, you’re mentally cataloging your closet and deciding nothing in it will do. You know Tony well enough to know that when he says “wear something nice,” he doesn’t mean a cute sweater and jeans. No, he’ll have picked some ridiculously fancy place where the appetizers cost more than your electric bill.

The afternoon turns into a whirlwind of trying on every remotely elegant outfit you own. The black dress? Too basic. The navy one? No, that’s what you wore to Natasha’s birthday last year. The red one? It’s a showstopper, sure, but is it too much?

You eventually settle on a dress you haven’t worn in ages—a deep emerald green number that fits like it was tailored just for you. Pairing it with heels and some understated jewelry, you give yourself one last critical look in the mirror.

“Not bad,” you mutter to your reflection, though the butterflies in your stomach are anything but calm.

By the time 7 o’clock rolls around, you’re pacing your apartment, trying not to overthink every detail. You’ve spent the entire day replaying Tony’s text messages, dissecting every word, and now you’re a bundle of nerves.

The buzz of your phone breaks the silence, and you check it to see another message from Tin Can Man.

Tin Can Man 🚀🛠️: I’m downstairs.

Grabbing your coat and bag, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself. When you step outside, there he is, leaning casually against a sleek black car that looks like it costs more than your apartment building. He’s dressed impeccably, of course—dark suit, crisp shirt, no tie, but the top button undone just enough to scream effortless charm.

“You clean up well,” you say, trying to sound more composed than you feel.

Tony’s gaze sweeps over you, and for a moment, he doesn’t reply. His usual smirk softens into something you can’t quite place, something that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You look… wow,” he says finally, and it’s so un-Tony-like that you can’t help but laugh.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Stark.”

He grins, holding the car door open for you with a flourish. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”

As you slide into the car, you wonder if Tony’s as nervous as you are. If he is, he hides it well. But when he gets behind the wheel, you notice his grip on the steering wheel is just a little tighter than usual.

Neither of you says much during the drive, but the air is charged with something unspoken. When you arrive at the restaurant—a place so fancy it doesn’t even have a sign—you turn to Tony, arching an eyebrow.

“Subtle,” you tease, gesturing at the valet waiting to park the car.

Tony shrugs, smirking. “What can I say? I have a reputation to uphold.”

Inside, the restaurant is even more extravagant than you expected. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and the soft hum of a piano drifts through the air. You’re suddenly very aware of how out of your element you feel, but Tony, ever the smooth talker, leads you to a table like he owns the place.

The evening unfolds in a blur of good food, light banter, and moments where you catch Tony looking at you with an expression that makes your cheeks warm. By the time dessert arrives, you’re no longer nervous—you’re just happy.

And maybe falling for your best friend wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.

The restaurant is a swirl of elegance and opulence. You sit at a cozy, candlelit table near a window that offers a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The warm glow of the chandeliers dances off the pristine silverware, and the soft murmur of conversations fills the air like a melody. Across from you, Tony looks uncharacteristically calm—at least on the surface.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Stark,” you say, gesturing to the impeccably arranged plate in front of you. It’s some kind of artistically deconstructed dish that looks almost too pretty to eat. Almost.

“Outdoing myself is my specialty,” he replies with a wink, swirling the wine in his glass. But there’s something in his eyes, a flicker of nervousness he’s trying hard to hide.

The conversation flows easily as the courses arrive one by one. You talk about everything and nothing—the latest Avengers antics, your recent binge of terrible reality TV, and Tony’s latest tech project, which involves an overly ambitious plan to automate coffee-making robots.

“And how’s that working out?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, grinning. “Let’s just say I’ve destroyed two espresso machines and one microwave. But progress is progress.”

You laugh, the sound filling the small bubble the two of you have created. There’s a moment of quiet, the kind that feels comfortable and loaded at the same time. Tony’s gaze lingers on you, and you suddenly feel warm, the candlelight only adding to the effect.

“What?” you ask, your voice softer now.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, looking away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Just… you look happy. I like it.”

You blink, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his tone. Tony Stark doesn’t do sentimental—not usually. But tonight, there’s something different about him, something almost vulnerable.

When dessert is served—a rich chocolate creation that looks like it belongs in a museum—Tony leans back in his chair, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“So,” he says, “you’re enjoying yourself?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” you reply, taking a bite of the dessert. “This is probably the fanciest dinner I’ve ever had.”

His smirk widens. “Good. Because the date hasn’t even started yet.”

You freeze mid-bite, narrowing your eyes at him. “What do you mean, hasn’t started? Tony, we’re literally on a date right now.”

He stands, tossing a few bills onto the table to cover the check—because of course he doesn’t wait for the server. Extending a hand to you, he says, “Trust me, sweetheart. This was just the warm-up.”

Curiosity and excitement war in your chest as you let him lead you out of the restaurant and back to the car. Once you’re settled in, he glances at you, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

“Just… keep an open mind, okay?” he says, his voice quieter now.

“Tony Stark, what are you up to?”

“You’ll see,” he replies, his usual confidence tinged with something you can’t quite place.

The car ride is a blur, and when he finally pulls up to your next destination, your jaw drops.

The scene before you looks like something straight out of a movie—your favorite movie, to be exact. It’s an outdoor setting, lit by dozens of string lights and lanterns. A small, charming gazebo sits in the center, surrounded by fairy lights that twinkle like stars. There’s a vintage record player set up, softly playing the theme from the movie you’ve watched more times than you can count.

“Tony…” you whisper, stepping out of the car. “How did you—”

He shrugs, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his posture. “You mentioned it once. Something about how you thought this was the perfect date, so… I figured I’d give it a shot.”

You turn to him, your heart swelling so much it feels like it might burst. “You did this for me?”

“Yeah, well, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I just wanted it to be… special.”

“Tony,” you breathe, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. “It’s perfect.”

He visibly relaxes at your words, his shoulders dropping a fraction. Taking your hand, he leads you toward the gazebo, where a small table is set with two glasses of champagne.

The two of you sit, the city’s bustle far away, the moment feeling almost surreal. You’re about to tease him about being a closet romantic when he stands suddenly, pacing a few steps before turning to face you.

“Okay,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “I had this whole speech planned, but it’s probably terrible, and I’m gonna screw it up, but—”

“Tony,” you interrupt, standing and moving closer to him. “What’s going on?”

He takes a deep breath, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he says, his words rushing out in a way that makes your heart ache for him. “And I know I’m not exactly the easiest guy to deal with, and I probably don’t deserve you, but… I love you.”

Your breath catches.

“I love you,” he repeats, his voice steadier now. “And I want to know if you’ll—if you’ll be my girlfriend.”

For a moment, you just stare at him, the world spinning and standing still all at once. He looks so uncharacteristically vulnerable, his usual bravado stripped away, and it’s the most honest, beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Yes,” you say finally, your voice soft but sure.

His eyes widen. “Yes?”

“Yes, Tony,” you repeat, stepping closer and cupping his face in your hands. “I love you too.”

Relief floods his features, and then he’s pulling you into his arms, holding you like he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to hear that,” he murmurs against your hair.

You laugh, the sound full of joy. “You should’ve said something sooner, you idiot.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his grin finally returning. “Yeah, well, you know me. Always gotta make a scene.”

And as he leans down to kiss you, the world fades away, leaving only the warmth of his lips against yours, the twinkling lights around you, and the overwhelming feeling that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

The night sky stretches above you in all its vast, glittering glory, each star twinkling like tiny diamonds. The air is crisp but not too cold, the kind of chill that makes snuggling up feel like the best idea ever. You and Tony are still in the gazebo, but now you’re lying on a soft blanket, tucked close together, the twinkling lights overhead mixing with the stars.

Tony’s arm is wrapped around you, pulling you into his side like he doesn’t want to let go. His fingers trace light patterns along your arm, the sensation sending little shivers up your spine, though it’s not cold. It’s just him—his touch, his presence, everything about him.

You’re trying to focus on the sky, trying to keep your thoughts from wandering into how impossibly perfect this feels. The night is still, save for the soft rustling of the leaves in the trees around you, and the soft strains of the music drifting from the record player. The atmosphere feels like something out of a dream. This is a dream, right? Or maybe the best kind of reality.

“You know,” Tony says, his voice warm and full of that familiar teasing tone, “I had a whole speech planned for tonight. Thought I’d sound all suave, you know? But the second I saw you… I kinda forgot it all.”

You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow, your lips twitching into a smile. “You were going to give a speech?”

“Of course. I was gonna be all, ‘From the moment I met you, I knew you were destined to be mine,’ or something equally charming,” he replies, pretending to sound dramatic and smooth. He exaggerates the ‘destined’ part, earning a small laugh from you.

“And why didn’t you?”

Tony shrugs, giving you an exaggerated, almost childlike look. “Well, I got distracted by how ridiculously beautiful you look tonight. Didn’t really need the speech after all.”

You snort, glancing over at him. “Oh, so now you’ve forgotten how to flirt.”

“I never forget,” he says, sounding more like a proud peacock than anything else. He shifts so he’s leaning over you just a little more, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “I just use actions to back up my words, princess.”

“Oh, really?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep the teasing tone in your voice, but your heart is already doing little somersaults in your chest.

Before you can finish your thought, Tony leans in, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose. It’s quick, playful, but there’s something in it—something that sends warmth spreading through you from your cheeks all the way down to your toes. You giggle, brushing your nose.

“That’s how you back up your words? With nose kisses?”

“Nope.” His lips hover just above your skin, and he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek. “I like to keep you on your toes.”

You grin, feeling giddy. “Well, you’re doing a good job of that, Stark.”

You tilt your head back, letting your hair spill out behind you like a waterfall, and your lips brush against his cheek in return. His breath hitches just slightly, like he wasn’t expecting it. He turns his face toward you, and suddenly his lips are on yours, soft and warm and impossibly sweet. It’s a kiss that lingers, slow and tender, and for a moment, it feels like time stands still.

He pulls back just a fraction, his forehead resting against yours. You stay like that for a moment, eyes closed, savoring the feeling of him being so close. There’s no rush, no need for words—just the soft rhythm of breathing, the beating of two hearts that finally seem in sync.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Tony murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You grin, tilting your head to look up at him. “What? Because I’m capable of giving you a kiss on the cheek?”

“Oh, that’s not what I’m talking about, sweetheart,” Tony says, his voice suddenly softer, more vulnerable. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, and when he speaks again, there’s a tenderness in his voice that makes your chest tighten. “I’m talking about how you make me feel. How lucky I am to have you here. With me.”

You blink, heart flipping. “Tony…”

“Yeah,” he says, laughing under his breath. “I know I’m Tony Stark, but I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s got me totally wrapped around your finger.” He gives you a playful wink, but there’s something more genuine behind it.

“Look at you being all sentimental,” you tease, trying to hide the growing warmth in your chest.

He narrows his eyes playfully. “I’m sentimental for you, sweetheart. Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply with a soft laugh. “I think I could get used to it.”

You lean up to kiss him again, a little slower this time, but just as sweet. His hands slip around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get close enough. You’re pressed so tightly together that there’s no space left, no room for any doubts or anything that isn’t him. His lips move against yours, warm and eager, but he pulls back after a moment, his nose brushing against your cheek as he lets out a deep sigh.

“You know,” Tony says, his voice low and just a little breathless, “I’ve kissed a lot of people in my time, but none of them made me feel like this.”

You smile softly, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I’m glad I’m the exception.”

“Oh, believe me,” he mutters, leaning in for another kiss, “you’re definitely the exception.”

This kiss is different—deeper, more hungry, like he can’t quite get enough. His hands move from your waist, sliding up your back to cradle your head, pulling you even closer. You respond eagerly, feeling the heat between you growing, but Tony pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes soft and full of something you can’t quite name.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice surprisingly serious.

You nod quickly. “Yeah, I’m just… overwhelmed.”

“Good overwhelmed?” He grins, his trademark cocky smirk returning.

“Very good overwhelmed,” you reply, laughing softly. “But you have a habit of kissing me senseless, Stark. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

He chuckles, his lips hovering near yours. “Sorry, can’t help it. You just make me so… damn happy. And I haven’t even told you how amazing you look tonight. Like, I’m seriously getting distracted just looking at you.”

You blush at the compliment, but Tony doesn’t give you much time to respond before he leans down and kisses you again, this time slower, gentler, with a lingering tenderness that makes your heart race in a different way. His lips are soft and warm, and when he pulls back, you’re both breathless, eyes fluttering open to meet each other.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” you say, your voice teasing, but there’s a hint of something deeper in it now.

Tony grins, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m pretty sure you just made my night. I’m never letting you go, you know.”

You laugh, poking him lightly in the chest. “Not that I’m complaining, but I think I might be the one who’s going to keep you.”

Tony presses another kiss to your lips, this one playful, with a promise of more to come. He can’t stop himself now. He wants you—he wants you in a way that feels almost primal, like he’s not willing to let go of you, ever. You feel the same.

“Good,” he whispers against your lips. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

As the night continues, you both stay there, tangled together on the blanket, lost in the sweetness of the moment, kissing, laughing, and just enjoying the quiet joy of being with each other. There’s no rush, no expectation—just the two of you, finally figuring out that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

And for the first time in a long time, you don’t need anything else. Just Tony. And maybe a few more kisses.

The Avengers Tower’s common room is buzzing with excitement as movie night rolls around again, but this time, there’s a palpable change in the air. It's been a few weeks since you and Tony officially became a couple, and everyone can feel the shift. The usual dynamic is the same—loud chatter, snacks being passed around, and the occasional argument over what movie to watch—but there's something different now, something that makes every glance between you and Tony feel a little more charged. And you know exactly what it is.

As you walk into the room, hand in hand with Tony, the team falls silent for a brief moment before an uproar of teasing starts. Steve looks up from his phone and winks. Natasha smirks. Thor chuckles, and Clint just shakes his head with an exaggerated sigh. You and Tony sit down on the couch, the atmosphere now a mix of curiosity and playful mockery.

"So," Steve begins with that too-innocent expression on his face, "what are we watching tonight? Another Christmas classic?"

"Well, it is still December," Tony replies, his hand slipping to the back of your chair. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he adds in a low, teasing voice, "But we can make it even more special, you know. I was thinking of a Christmas movie marathon… just the two of us."

You glance over at him, surprised at the suggestion. It’s not like Tony to offer a quiet, cozy evening without any extra flair, but for some reason, the idea of spending the night with him like that, away from everyone else, feels… comforting. You smile, leaning toward him and resting your head on his shoulder. "I like that idea," you murmur, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

The team watches you both, exchanging amused looks, and it only takes a second for Clint to speak up.

"Guys, seriously? Are we watching a Christmas movie or just watching you two get all… lovey-dovey for two hours?" He throws his hands up in exasperation. "It's like all you do now."

"Hey," Tony says, lifting an eyebrow as he shoots Clint a look. "We are on a date."

"Yeah, a date with a group of people who are very interested in your every move." Natasha’s voice is dry, but there's a playful sparkle in her eyes.

"Ugh, gross," Clint mutters, pretending to gag, but the smirk on his face betrays the fact that he's more entertained than anything else.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face at their teasing. Tony, meanwhile, seems to thrive on the attention, leaning back a little too dramatically and pulling you closer to his side.

“I’m just a lucky guy,” Tony says with that smug smile of his, squeezing your shoulder. "Do you all see what I have to deal with? She’s perfect."

"Sure, Stark, you’re the lucky one," Clint mutters, dramatically pulling out a bag of chips from the table and shoving a handful into his mouth.

“You know,” Thor says from the armchair where he’s lounging, “when a mortal finds true love, it should be celebrated. It is a noble thing, indeed!” He raises his mug of beer as if toasting you both. "May you two share many winters together in joy."

"Aw, thanks, Thor." You smile at the god of thunder, and Tony gives you a mock bow.

"Let’s just try to survive the night without any more of that emotional stuff, okay?" Steve says, giving you a wink. "We’re here to watch a movie, not get too intense."

You lean into Tony with a smile, enjoying the teasing atmosphere. But, of course, Tony has to make it worse—or better, depending on how you look at it.

“Hey, don’t act like we’re not entertaining you guys. Who else is going to give you this much material to work with, huh?” He shrugs and adjusts his arm around you, pulling you closer, his hand resting casually on your thigh. “Besides, we love a little public display of affection.”

“Oh, we know,” Clint says with a mock groan, covering his eyes dramatically. "We’ve seen enough PDA to last a lifetime."

"Yeah, but have you seen this?" Tony asks, his eyes glinting mischievously as he pulls you closer. Without warning, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, and then another on the top of your head.

The room falls into an exaggerated silence as everyone stares.

“Really, Tony?” Steve raises an eyebrow, a look of disbelief on his face.

“Come on, Cap. It’s just a kiss,” you reply, though your voice is full of suppressed laughter.

“Yeah, a thousand kisses,” Clint quips from across the room, rolling his eyes. “At least they’re not making out in front of us—that would be too much.”

“Oh, don’t tempt us, Clint,” Tony smirks, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek, his lips hovering just above yours for a beat. It’s sweet and intimate, but just teasing enough to make everyone squirm.

“Okay, okay,” Natasha finally says, throwing her hands up. “We get it. You’re in love. Just pick a movie already, or we’re going to have to find some other way to get the room’s attention.”

You both laugh, and Tony gives her a playful wink before leaning back into the couch, pulling you with him. You settle against him, your head resting on his chest, the warmth of his body comforting. It’s nice like this—cozy, familiar, and surrounded by people who you know are teasing just because they’re happy for you.

"So," Tony says, looking around the room and clearing his throat. "We decided on a Christmas movie marathon, but only if everyone can behave. If we end up with more sarcastic commentary and eye-rolls, we might have to take it to the bedroom and really make it a private affair.”

“Ugh, no, no,” Clint says, holding his hands up in mock horror. "We’ll behave. Promise."

Tony grins, clearly enjoying every second of this, before pressing the play button on the remote. The opening credits of Love Actually start to roll, and everyone immediately starts making playful comments. You can’t help but chuckle as Tony holds you a little tighter, clearly amused by the bickering happening around you.

As the movie continues, you get wrapped up in the warmth of the scene, the silly moments, and the subtle sweetness of the holiday cheer. You settle deeper into Tony’s side, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm draped comfortably over your waist. His fingers gently stroke your arm as the two of you share quiet conversations during the more emotional parts of the movie. Every so often, he presses soft kisses to the top of your head, as if reminding you—and everyone else—that you belong to each other.

The teasing continues from the others, but there’s an undeniable affection in it all. They’re all happy for you both, even if it’s a little strange for them to see Tony—Tony Stark, the self-proclaimed playboy billionaire—acting like a lovesick puppy in front of the entire team.

“Man, you really went all out,” Clint says after a particularly emotional scene, turning to Tony with a raised eyebrow. “You even went for Love Actually. What’s next? A romantic comedy marathon?”

“Anything for my girl,” Tony responds easily, and the way he says it, so casually but so full of affection, makes your heart swell.

“I can’t wait to see you two try to top this next year,” Natasha says, her tone playful, though there’s a softness to it as well.

“I don’t even want to know,” Steve chimes in, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I’m guessing this is only the beginning, huh?”

“Hey, if I’m going all in, I’m going all in,” Tony replies, glancing down at you with that loving look that makes your heart skip. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

You smile up at him, and his expression softens just enough for you to feel the weight of his words. There’s no doubting how much he means it. And for a moment, the world outside of this room seems to disappear as you’re surrounded by the people who feel like family—your family.

The movie goes on, the mood light and easy, and Tony’s kisses come more frequently, not because he has to, but because he simply can’t seem to stop himself. And you don’t mind one bit.

By the time the movie ends, the Avengers are sprawled around the room in varying degrees of comfort. Tony gives you one last lingering kiss before pulling away just enough to look at you with a grin.

“I think we’ve officially made movie night our tradition now,” he says with a satisfied nod.

“Definitely,” you agree, your fingers gently tracing the fabric of his shirt. “Just us… and the team watching us get all cheesy.”

“Hey, it’s our tradition,” Tony replies with a wink. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With a contented sigh, you rest your head on his shoulder again, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the softness of his kisses lingering on your lips, and the comforting certainty that, despite the teasing, you and Tony are exactly where you’re meant to be.

And as the Avengers disperse, still chuckling under their breaths, you know you’ve found a tradition that will be cherished for years to come—just you, Tony, and an endless amount of Christmas movies.

[amasterpieceofmadness]

How the Marvel men treat you on Valentines Day

pairings Tony Stark x reader warnings none, teeth rotting fluff, implied smut

masterlist

Tony would definitely surprise you with a trip to one of Europe’s cities. Paris, Rome, London, doesn’t matter, he will choose whatever you like the most. You will stay in an expensive hotel, penthouse of course, of which’s balcony you have a stunning view of the city. On Valentines Day you would find a note on the bed from him, lying on top of a little box. “Meet me at 8 in the lobby, love, Tony” And as you open the box you find a beautiful new dress in your favorite color in it. Of course, you try it on and it fits perfectly. As you step into the lobby you immediately catch Tonys eye and he smirks at you. “Hey, love. You look stunning” His hands on your waist, pulling you to him and pressing a soft and loving kiss to yours. He then extends his arm for you to take and together you go to a fancy restaurant. After a nice evening, the two of you return to the hotel. At first you enjoy the view of the night skyline, his arms wrapped around you from behind, a glass of champagne in your hand. Tony starts to softly kiss your neck, and finally he takes the glass carefully out of your hands and makes you turn around to look at him. He looks you deep in the eyes and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “I love you” he whispers before putting his lips onto yours. I think we all know how this is going to end.

[animealways]

Tony: no matter what circumstances whatever you do never bet with my kid

Avengers: ok?

Later that day

Sam: hey!

Y/n standing on a balcony: what!?

Sam: i bet 10 bucks you won't ju-

Y/n jumps down from the third floor and only gets a broken foot: now where is my money bitch

Sam: wha da fu-

Tony: damn it! Not again how the fuck am i gonna explain this shit to pepper!?