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A/N: Needed some fluff for myself
Content warnings: None. Emotional hurt/comfort, family bonding, references to anxiety and fear of harming loved ones (no graphic violence). Pure fluff and reassurance.
Taglist is open! (Tagging my favourites/regulars for now)
You stepped through the front door, still shrugging off your work bag, and the silence hit you like a wall. Usually, by this hour, there was noise—the clatter of Tony tinkering in his workshop, the hum of FRIDAY’s voice, the distant laughter of your son chasing one of the bots. But today, nothing. Just the soft tick of the grandfather clock in the foyer and the faint whisper of the air conditioning.
Your heart lurched. It had been weeks—long, draining weeks—of Tony pulling away. Not just from you, but from Theo too. He’d come home late, leave early, bury himself in the lab with excuses about "Avengers stuff." You’d told yourself it would pass. It always did, didn’t it? His moods came in waves, crashing against the shores of his conscience before receding again.
But this time felt different. This time, the distance had a weight to it. A sorrow.
You dropped your bag by the stairs and moved through the ground floor quickly, checking the kitchen, the living room, the den. Empty. Even the coffee mugs in the sink were from this morning, untouched since. A cold knot tightened in your stomach.
Where are they?
You remembered Theo’s orange bathing suit draped over the towel rack this morning. He’d been begging to use the pool, but you’d told him to wait for Daddy. And Tony had just… left for work without a word.
Your feet carried you up the stairs, then down the hallway toward the master bedroom. The balcony doors were wide open, letting in the warm evening breeze. And there—finally—you saw them.
Your breath caught.
On the large beach seat you’d bought last summer, the one with the thick white cushions and the wide canopy, Tony was curled up with Theo. Your son was wrapped in that bright orange bathing suit you’d thought he’d never get to wear today, his small body tucked against Tony’s chest. Tony’s arm was wrapped around him, his hand splayed protectively over Theo’s back. They were both facing the ocean, the golden light of the setting sun painting their silhouettes in soft amber.
Tony’s head was bowed, his forehead resting against Theo’s hair. You could see his shoulders rise and fall in slow, measured breaths. He wasn’t asleep. He was holding on.
You stood frozen in the doorway, tears pricking at your eyes. This was what you’d been missing. This was the man you loved, the father you knew he could be. But you also saw the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers clutched the fabric of Theo’s suit like he was afraid to let go.
You didn’t interrupt. You just watched, your hand pressed over your mouth, until the light shifted and Tony finally stirred. He murmured something to Theo, who nodded sleepily, and then they both stood. Tony lifted your son easily, cradling him against his chest, and turned to come inside.
When he saw you, his eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Then a shadow of guilt passed over his face. He managed a thin, tired smile.
“Hey, honey,” he said softly. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
You stepped aside as he carried Theo toward his bedroom. “I just got home. I was looking for you two.”
“We were just… having some air,” Tony said, his voice rough. He laid Theo down on his bed, pulling the covers up over the little boy’s still-damp suit. Theo was already half-asleep, his fingers curling around the edge of the blanket.
Tony stood there for a long moment, staring down at your son. His hand hovered over Theo’s head, trembling slightly, before he finally pulled it back. He turned and walked past you, his steps heavy.
You followed him into the kitchen. The silence stretched like a rubber band about to snap.
You moved on autopilot—filling the kettle, pulling down two mugs, scooping coffee grounds into the French press. The familiar ritual helped steady your nerves. Tony leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with that same hollow look he’d worn for weeks.
When the coffee was ready, you poured two cups, set one in front of him, and wrapped your own fingers around the warmth of the mug. You didn’t drink. You just stood there, looking at him.
Then you set your mug down and reached out.
“Tony,” you said quietly. “Hold my hand. Please. I need it.”
He flinched. For a moment, you thought he’d refuse. But then his hand lifted, and his fingers intertwined with yours. They were cold, rough with calluses from years of metal and machinery. But they held yours like a lifeline.
“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. “I know I’ve been unfair. I know you see it. You always see it.”
You squeezed his hand. “I know you’re going through something. But you can’t shut us out. Not me, not Theo. We’re your family.”
He let out a shaky exhale. “You’re right. You’re always right.”
You guided him to the living room couch, both of you sitting down with your knees touching. You kept his hand in yours, thumb stroking over his knuckles.
“Tell me,” you said. “What happened?”
He stared at your joined hands for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“I almost hurt him.”
Your blood ran cold. “What? When?”
“A week ago. In the lab.” He swallowed hard. “I was testing a new gauntlet prototype. I don’t even remember what I was trying to do—some impulse repulsor modification. Theo came in to show me a drawing he made. He was so proud of it. A picture of our family.” Tony’s voice cracked. “I was distracted. I didn’t see him reach for the table. The gauntlet discharged. Missed him by inches. The blast hit the wall behind him.”
You felt your own hand tremble. “Tony…”
“He didn’t even realize. He thought it was a sound effect. Laughed it off.” Tony’s jaw clenched. “But I saw it. I saw how close I came to—to hurting my own son. Because I wasn’t paying attention. Because I let my work blind me.”
He pulled his hand from yours, rubbing his face with both palms. “I’ve been over it a thousand times. What if he had been three inches to the left? What if I hadn’t pulled back in time? What if, what if, what if…”
You reached out and gently pulled his hands away from his face. “Tony, look at me.”
He did. His eyes were red-rimmed, glistening.
“You did pull back,” you said firmly. “You didn’t hurt him. You caught yourself. You’ve spent your whole life building things that could destroy, and every single time, you choose not to. You choose us.”
“But what if I don’t next time?” His voice was raw. “What if I’m not fast enough? I’m not a good man, Y/N. I’ve done terrible things. I have a list of sins longer than my bank account. And Theo—he’s so small. So innocent. He looks at me like I’m a hero. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what I really am.”
You moved closer, cupping his face in your hands. “He knows you’re his father. That’s all he needs to know. And you are a good man, Tony. Not perfect. None of us are. But you love him. You love me. That’s what matters.”
He let out a shuddering breath. “I’m scared.”
“I know.” You pressed your forehead against his. “But you don’t have to carry it alone. Let me help. Let me be your anchor.”
For a long moment, he just breathed with you, his hands coming up to rest on your waist. Then he tilted his head and kissed you—soft, slow, desperate. A kiss that tasted of salt and apology.
You kissed him back, pouring every ounce of reassurance you had into it. When you finally parted, you were both trembling.
“You’re not going to hurt him,” you whispered. “Because you’ll be careful. You’ll be present. And when you feel that fear creeping in, you’ll come to me. We’ll handle it together.”
He nodded, his thumb tracing your cheek. “I love you. I love him. I don’t know how to say it right.
“You just did.”
You stayed like that, wrapped in each other, until the coffee grew cold and the stars came out beyond the balcony. Then you stood, took his hand again, and led him back to Theo’s room.
The little boy was sprawled on his bed, still in his orange bathing suit, one arm flung over his head. His lips were parted in a peaceful sleep.
Tony knelt beside the bed, and you saw the change in his face—the tight lines softening, the fear giving way to something gentler. He pressed a kiss to Theo’s forehead, then to his tiny hand.
Anything Blue Can Do, Red & Gold Can Do Better - Part 2 "Closer"
Part 1
Characters/Pairings: Female Avenger!Reader, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, JARVIS
Summary: Fresh from your breakup with Steve, you quickly find that letting the details of your pathetic love life slip out to Tony opens the floodgates to something much, much more.
Warnings: Language, Pepper and Steve slander and general disrespect, Banter, Flirting, Dirty Talk, The Fastest Rebound in the History of the Planet, Filth and Smut
PURE FILTH!
Word Count: 3.6k
Tagging: @definitelynotaginger @xskyleighx @rdjesus4ever @needz1nk (I remembered!!)
The author (that's me, I'm the one responsible for this disgusting mess) highly recommends you listen to Closer by Nine Inch Nails while you read this, because fuck is that song so hot.
You kick at the polished concrete floor at an imagined stone and gently clear your throat before looking back up at Tony. His chest is noticeably heaving, no doubt coming down from his unexpected break-up. “Well, I guess I won’t need to offer her those lessons now,” you ramble, hoping to break the awkward silence that follows Pepper’s departure.
Tony’s usually gold-flecked eyes are the colour of his third cup of black coffee beside you on the worktop as they snap to meet yours. “Fuck, did I really go through with that? I think I blacked out after you defended my honor,” Tony asks, pinching the bridge of his nose, then drags his palm down his face to roughly rub over his goatee. “Thank you for that. No one’s done that for me, not since I was a kid.”
You walk over to him, placing your hand on top of his and gently guide it away from his face. He’s going to wear off his facial hair if he keeps running his palm over it like that. “No one speaks to my friends like that and gets away with it. You okay?”
“Yeah,” he replies, his voice low and oddly calm. You realize that you’re still holding his hand because now he’s placed them both against his chest. The hard lines of the reactor meet your fingertips and you’re powerless to stop their exploration. “Is it weird that I feel lighter? I should feel something bad right? Like, guilt or regret?” He lets out a quick bark of an incredulous laugh.
You look up and shake your head. Tony looks tired, but that’s not unusual. There is something shining in those brown eyes that you haven’t noticed before though. “I think it just means that it was a long time coming,” you offer. Honestly, you felt the same after breaking up with Steve.
“Yeah, maybe this was too,” Tony’s voice is a low rasp as he gives your hand a squeeze.
Blinking rapidly, you struggle to catch his meaning. “Huh?”
Still holding your hand in place, Tony steps closer, bringing his free hand to cup your cheek. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll fuck right off.”
Holy shit.
What the fuck?
You probably should tell him to do that. He literally just broke up with Pepper right in front of you.
But you don’t.
The music kicks back in without warning and your entire body jolts forward.
I want to feel you from the inside
“Didn’t think so,” Tony growls, sliding his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck.
His touch goes from gentle to firm and possessive before the next line hits. Your body responds by arching into his touch as you grasp the fabric of his t-shirt.
I want to fuck you like an animal
His mouth is on yours, capturing your breath in a bruising kiss. Wasting no time, you part your lips in invitation and Tony’s long tongue swipes over your bottom lip before completely invading your mouth in the best way. It quickly turns into the filthiest kiss of your life, fueled by adrenaline and pure, unfiltered lust.
My whole existence is flawed
Your hands work their way down, seeking heat. Any brain cell you might have spared for considering whether or not this is wrong is completely overwritten by your need to be as close as possible to him. Finding the hem of Tony’s t-shirt, you urge it up and delight at making contact with the firm, searing flesh of his abs. His muscles contract under your touch as you scrape your nails up.
You get me closer to God
Tony groans into your mouth before pulling back. He looks more alive than you’ve ever seen him. “First things first: I think we got the whole foreplay box checked with that conversation? Tell me you’re not all talk. God, you had me painfully hard under the table with that filthy mouth of yours.”
Fucking hell, you need him. “I couldn’t help but notice, he’s kinda hard to miss. You owe me a fresh pair of undies too.”
Tony’s cocky smirk and chuckle at your ridiculous admission sends a fresh gush into your already ruined panties. “So what’s next on the agenda then? I believe the lady was thinking about being slammed against the nearest hard surface?” he cocks his head – broadcasting every salacious thought that’s happening behind those endless dark eyes – and decides to be charitable, yanking his shirt that you’ve been working on right over his head.
You’re staring shamelessly now. Tanned, toned and scarred, Tony Stark sans shirt has rocketed up to number one on your favourite sights list. “Who am I to argue with a perfect plan?” you reply, leaning in to scrape your teeth over his pec, just beside the reactor. You lick over the spot, then kiss each scattered scar along that side of his chest. Tony’s head drops back, but his hands find your hips on their own and squeeze roughly before working to push up your shirt.
It barely registers that he’s been walking you backwards until your bare skin meets the cool, hard concrete wall.
“Get this fuckin’ thing off already,” Tony commands, then drops to his knees in front of you, digging his fingertips into the waistband of your sweatpants. How you’ve longed to be spoken to like this. You briefly consider being a brat and refusing, but you need this man to fuck you and soon, so you cross your arms in front of you and rip your shirt up over your head, dropping it on the floor.
“Imagine having this perfection in front of you and not worshipping every inch?” Tony makes a clicking sound with his tongue, then in a shockingly tender move, nuzzles his face into your stomach, nudging his nose against your belly button. He drags his chin down to your waistband, his beard scratching your sensitive skin, sending goosebumps up, turning your nipples hard against the thin cups of your bra. Tony takes the fabric in his teeth and pulls, along with his fingers at your hips, bringing down your pants and underwear down over your thighs.
You realize you still have sneakers on and laugh as Tony pushes your pant leg down your left calf. Lifting your foot, he manages to pull your shoe off by the heel, then frees you from that pant leg. He doesn’t bother with the other leg, which you almost comment on before he throws your bare leg over his shoulder. Your hips buck forward in anticipation. It’s been so long since you’ve been eaten out, and nothing could ever prepare you for Tony’s unbridled enthusiasm.
Your right knee buckles as soon as his hot mouth covers your clit. Fuck, he really is a genius because you definitely need the grip of your shoe to keep you upright as he works circles around and around. Pressing your heel into his back, your hands find his head, urging him to continue, grasping his soft, dark hair.
“Shit, Tony, if I knew I could keep your mouth busy like this I would - fuck! - I would have lived in this lab with youuuahhhh,” the last word comes out as a strained moan, it’s all you can do to not cry out as your blood turns electric with pleasure.
Tony snickers against your clit, the vibration makes your thighs quiver. “If I knew you tasted like nectar, I would have asked you to move in here myself,” the gruffness in his voice makes your toes tingle. Nipping the inside of your thigh playfully, he gets back to work, licking one long, luxuriously slow stripe from your entrance back up to your clit and exhales raggedly. “Goddamn, sweetness, please tell me you’ll let me eat this pussy every day,” his voice is rough, his eyes are dark, his hair is a disaster; he’s the perfect mirror image of the mess he is turning you into.
Your response turns into a strangled gurgle in the back of your throat as he dives back in, dipping his tongue through your folds and into your entrance. If he can ruin you so quickly with his mouth, you’re really not prepared for the rest of him. But that only makes you want him more. Fisting your hands in his hair, you try to pull his head back, but he’s a man possessed, utterly focused on devouring you. Your thighs quiver, your lone sneaker squeaking against the sealed concrete as you try to remain upright against the torrent of pleasure raging through your core.
“Tony,” you gasp, then moan brokenly as he returns his attention to your clit, and you pull harder on his hair, which only seems to fuel his fervor. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”
After a few more blissful moments, Tony finally obeys, pulling back to look up at you.
“All in good time. We have one more thing to check off the list first: How about you show me those cock-sucking abilities you were bragging about earlier?” He wiggles his brows and pats your thigh on his shoulder playfully. “I promise to spread you out over that table and give you what this perfect pussy has been missing out on for a long time?”
Already salivating at the thought, you take your leg off his shoulder, offering your hand to pull him up. “In that case, Mr. Stark, I’m going to need to remove your pants,” you purr, remembering JARVIS’ ‘unofficial’ lab rules.
Tony jumps up, towering over you once more. “Is that an order?”
Instead of replying, you hook your fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and spin with him, trading places. Sliding your hands up to his ribs you push him back firmly, a feline grin spreading across your lips. He lets himself hit the wall, licking his glistening lips as his chest heaves with anticipation. You reach down to unfasten the top button, but his hands have beaten you there, already sliding the zipper down.
Swatting his hands away, you give him a stern look. “This falls under my job description, Mr. Stark,” you chide, biting your bottom lip as you take over, fully unzipping his fly. Carefully, making sure you don’t make contact with his very prominent erection through his charcoal boxer briefs, you slide his jeans down his deliciously thick thighs and let them drop. Taking half a step back – both to tease and to admire – you find yourself biting down on your index finger.
Of course he’s big. Tony Stark hasn’t earned his reputation as a sex god for nothing, after all, and when your eyes finally meet again, his knowing smirk tells you that he can read you like a book as he reaches out a hand to you.
Instead of accepting it, you take the elastic waistband and pull forward, stretching it out to release his cock and then release them to work their way down his legs on their own. Immaculately trimmed dark hair trails from his navel down to frame the most perfect cock you’ve ever laid eyes on.
Certain you’re going to start drooling down your chin, you drop to your knees. “Such a shame to have to hide this superior shlong away with no one to appreciate it,” you purr, dragging your nails up his thighs, your view of Tony’s face obstructed by his cock hanging above you.
Tony’s eyes nearly disappear with mirth as he laughs. “Shlong? Did we just time warp back or something? What’s next? ‘Totally tubular dick you’re packing, dude. Primo salami, man!’ “ Tony teases mercilessly, and you can’t hold back a snort.
“I’ve seen a fair few dicks in my time, but compared to this,” you rise up on your knees so you’re face-to-face with the glistening tip of his cock and dart your tongue out to taste with a quick flick, “is no dick. This is definitely a shlooong,” you draw the vowel sound out, then wrap your lips around him, swirling your tongue all the way around the head slowly, over and over.
The back of Tony’s head hits the wall with a thunk that almost makes you wince, paired with a low groan that makes your pussy throb. “I give up, call it whatever you want, just keep using that treacherous mouth of yours,” he relents, reaching down to place a heavy hand on top of your head.
You pull off, grinning, and take his cock in your dominant hand. The gap between your thumb and forefinger has you letting out a shaky breath. He’s just so thick. You don’t let yourself think too long about it as you lift his shaft up for better access and lick a slow, exploratory path across and up his sack as you stroke him slowly.
His grip tightens against your scalp, stinging pleasantly as you continue to tease his balls.
“The mouth on you,” he growls, thrusting into your hand.
Everything about this man was designed to systematically destroy you, you’re certain of it. But it’s your turn to make a mess out of him. You continue your trail up, pressing the tip of your tongue along the thick vein on the underside of Tony’s cock, all the way up to the slit. Then you loosen your grip, letting your mouth do most of the work at first. A few short bobs coat him in your spit nicely, then you can really get to work. You suck, hard, pressing your tongue against him, pumping the length you haven’t managed to stuff in your mouth in synchronization.
You can feel him on the edge of losing control, the way his thrusts lose their gentle rhythm, but you don’t stop. “You better -” he groans, both hands now on your head. You wait just a few seconds more than you probably should before pulling off with a loud, sloppy pop.
“Christ, you really could teach a class on that, Michaelangelo,” Tony says breathlessly, moving his hands to cradle your face as he looks down at you. He really is beautiful at every angle. “But we’ve got a few more lessons to cover yet.”
“Another Ninja Turtle reference?” you giggle as he pulls you up to stand in front of him.
“Well, yes and no, I was actually thinking more along the lines of the artist,” he toes his shoes off, then shimmies until his feet are free of his jeans.
“The way you bounce from goofball to incredibly smooth is astounding,” you rib, ridding yourself of your other shoe and the other leg of your sweats.
Tony’s smile is all boyish charm that makes him look 20 years younger as he closes the gap between you once more. “Speaking of smooth,” he reaches behind you, unclasping your bra with one tiny little pinch.
“I’m so disappointed that worked on the first try,” you sigh, pressing your lips together as the corners of your mouth curl up without your permission. To cover up your smile, you shrug your bra off and let it slide off one arm and onto the floor.
Tony’s mouth is between your tits before you can register the growl in his throat. He scoops you up by your ass, and you jump, wrapping your legs around him. That perfectly evil mouth sucks in a nipple at the same time as your ass hits the stainless steel of a workstation covered with papers – blueprints maybe? – fucked if you care, Tony’s cock is pressed against your thigh and that’s the only thing you can think of. He’s still lavishing your breasts with attention, so you scrape your nails down his back and grab his ridiculously round ass, pulling him against you.
“No you fuckin’ don’t,” Tony grates out, pressing his teeth over the nipple he was sucking on before stepping back.
He doesn’t have a chance to see the pout on your face because you’re suddenly flipped around and bent over the table. “You just couldn’t be patient, could you? Did Cap know he lost such a greedy little cockslut?” he presses his chest against your back so he can growl right behind your ear.
You can’t form the words for a reply because you are lost in the sensation of his cock pressing against your ass, hot and hard, pre-cum leaving a wet smear then abruptly pulling away.
A loud crack breaks you from your trance as Tony’s hand meets your other asscheek, perfectly balanced between playful and rough. “I know this is off the discussed course list, but how are we feeling about ass play?” Tony questions, kneading your ass greedily with both hands.
“Been a while,” you admit, barely able to think straight.
“No time like the present, don’t you think?” Tony asks cheerfully as he spreads your cheeks apart.
A moment passes, as you let the cool surface of the table relieve some of the heat in your forehead. Tony is presumably admiring your holes in silence, but it’s been long enough that you have to check to see exactly what he is up to. He’s leaned right close to your crack when you catch his eye. The motherfucker winks before spitting a messy mouthful on you.
He was just biding his time so he’d have enough saliva to coat your asshole thoroughly.
“Can’t wait to stuff my cock into this tight little ass,” he says, ghosting his thumb down to circle your hole. “Not today though, I know your cunt needs to be filled first.”
“Please, Tony,” you beg, reaching behind you to try to guide his cock to you.
“I’ve got you, sweetness,” Tony says softly, sliding his cock from your entrance to your clit and back while circling his thumb with light pressure over your ass. It’s unfamiliar, but not at all unpleasant, in fact, it just makes you more desperate to be completely filled.
Then he’s pressing into you, the head of his cock sliding in with little resistance, you’re so soaked. Tony draws back just a little, then slams into you, fully driving in. You arch back, gasping as he remains still, letting you adjust to every glorious inch. Even his thumb pauses as you both catch your breath. “It’s criminal how you’ve been keeping this from me, baby,” Tony huffs, drawing back to thrust back in slowly.
“You feel so good,” you whine, pressing back, urging him to move.
You can feel Tony’s control wavering, one hand pressing you down against the table while the thumb on the other begins working into your ass. “You’re opening up for me so nice, want me to get in deep enough that I can feel my cock from the inside?”
The guttural moan that escapes your mouth is answer enough for him as he picks up the pace, dipping further into you. It’s so much, you’ve never felt so full before, and you are racing toward your orgasm in no time.
“Want me to pump you full of my cum? I bet you need it, don’t you? Been so long, you’re going to come on my cock soon aren’t you, baby?” Tony grunts, pounding into you harder, his balls slapping your clit, making your pussy pulse around him with each thrust.
“Yes, fuck yes, Tony,” you cry out, fingers gripping the edge of the table as your hips rock back to meet him each time.
“Such a perfect little slut,” Tony praises, continuing his steady, punishing pace. “Go ahead, let me have it. I won’t fill you up until you come on my cock, sweetness,” his voice is low and commanding, and just the thing you need to pull you over the edge.
Utter nonsense passes your lips as your pussy pulses around his cock, your asshole flutters around the intrusion of his thumb at the same time and you see stars. Your eyes roll back, and you feel yourself completely let go, electric pleasure rippling through you in waves. “Fuck, I’m gonna-” you gasp, a wet, hot flood gushing around Tony’s cock and down your thighs.
“Christ,” Tony groans brokenly, his pace frantic as his cock pulses inside of you, spurts of thick cum adding to your shared mess. A few more shaky thrusts and he collapses against your back, his heavy breath cooling your sweat-slick spine.
Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the harsh overhead lighting of the lab, only to hear that needle scratch cut through the music once more.
“I’ve had some time to think and - WHAT THE FUCK, TONY!?” Pepper screeches, leaving your ears ringing and your heart hammering.
The weight lifts off your back in an instant, and Tony’s softened cock slips out, but he doesn’t say anything, instead he slowly withdraws his thumb from your ass, while dipping the thumb from his left hand into the mess working down your leg, stuffing a thick rope of cum back into your pussy. You try to cut off the moan in your throat at the contact with your over-sensitive, swollen cunt but you completely fail, drawing Pepper’s horrified attention.
After an eternally tense moment, Tony stands up, and you look back, your eyes wide with panic. He just winks at you, then lifts both hands and gives Pepper the most enthusiastic two thumbs up you’ve ever witnessed in your life, one slick with spit, the other dripping with cum.
You'd been looking forward to this date all week. Tony had planned something special—a quiet dinner at that little Italian place downtown, followed by a stroll under the city lights. It was the kind of night that made your heart flutter just thinking about it. But as you got ready in your apartment, a familiar cramp twisted in your stomach, and you felt the telltale warmth. Your period. And not just any period—this was the first one since you and Tony had started dating a couple of months ago.
Panic set in. You weren't prepared, and the thought of bleeding through your favorite dress mid-date was mortifying. You grabbed your phone and texted him: Hey, I'm so sorry, but I have to cancel tonight. Not feeling great.
His reply came almost instantly: Everything okay? Need me to come over?
You hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen. It felt embarrassing to explain, but Tony had been nothing but understanding so far. It's... my period. Came out of nowhere. I just want to curl up at home.
There was a pause, longer than usual, and then: Say no more. Stay put. I'll handle this.
Handle it? What did that even mean? You sank onto your couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket, a hot water bottle pressed against your abdomen. The cramps were already making you wince, and all you wanted was to hibernate until it passed.
Meanwhile, across town, Tony Stark stared at his phone in the middle of his penthouse workshop. JARVIS's holographic displays flickered around him, but his mind was elsewhere. Period. Right. He knew the basics—biology class had covered it back in MIT—but details? Supplies? He was a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, not a period expert. But he wasn't about to let his girlfriend suffer alone.
"JARVIS, pull up... uh, everything I need to know about periods. Quickly."
The AI's voice was calm. "Certainly, sir. Menstrual cycles involve..."
Tony waved a hand. "Basics, JARVIS. What does she need? Pads? Tampons? Chocolate?"
As JARVIS rattled off a list, Tony grabbed his keys and headed for the elevator. The nearest pharmacy was a twenty-minute drive, but traffic in New York meant it could be longer. He slid into his Audi and punched the address into the GPS, his mind racing. He wanted to get this right—for you.
The pharmacy was brightly lit and overwhelming when he arrived. Aisles upon aisles of colorful boxes, all with cryptic labels. Tony stood in the feminine hygiene section, scanning the shelves like he was analyzing arc reactor schematics. "Okay, pads... heavy flow? Ultra? Wings? What the hell are wings?"
He grabbed a box at random—something that said "overnight protection"—and added a pack of tampons for good measure. Then, pain relievers: ibuprofen, right? He tossed in a bottle. Chocolate—everyone said chocolate helped. And tea? Herbal, maybe? He wandered to the next aisle, piling his basket with chamomile tea bags, a heating pad (did they sell those here? Yes, in the back), and a fluffy blanket because why not?
But doubt crept in. Was this enough? The right brands? He pulled out his phone and dialed Natasha Romanoff. She picked up on the second ring.
"Stark? This better be good. I'm in the middle of a briefing."
"Nat, I need your expertise. Girlfriend emergency. Periods. What do I buy? I'm in a pharmacy and it's like a minefield."
There was a chuckle on the other end. "You're shopping for supplies? That's adorable. Okay, listen up. Ditch the random pads—get Always or Kotex, something absorbent with wings for security. Tampons if she uses them, but ask next time. Midol for cramps, not just ibuprofen. Dark chocolate, not milk. And ginger tea for nausea if it hits."
Tony scrambled to follow, swapping boxes and adding Midol. "Wings for security—got it. Anything else?"
"A hot water bottle or heating pad. And be gentle when you get there—no hovering, but show you care. Listen to what she needs."
"You're a lifesaver, Romanoff. Thanks."
Natasha's voice softened. "Tony... you love her, don't you? I mean, really love her. Dropping everything for this?"
He paused, basket in hand, a warmth spreading in his chest that had nothing to do with the store's fluorescent lights. "Maybe I do," he said quietly, then hung up before she could tease him further.
Bag in hand, Tony sped back to your apartment, his usual cocky grin replaced by a determined focus. He buzzed up, and you let him in with a weak smile. When the door opened, there he was—hair slightly tousled, arms full of bags, looking equal parts triumphant and nervous.
"Hey, gorgeous. I come bearing gifts." He stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and set the bags on your coffee table. You were still curled on the couch, looking pale and uncomfortable, but his presence made the ache a little less sharp.
"Tony, you didn't have to—"
"Shh. I wanted to." He knelt beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "How bad is it? Cramps?"
You nodded, wincing as another twinge hit. "Yeah. And I'm just... bleh."
He unpacked the bags methodically, like it was a mission briefing. "Midol—Nat says this is the good stuff. Take two?" You swallowed the pills with a glass of water he fetched from the kitchen. Next, the heating pad—he plugged it in and draped it over your lap, adjusting it until you sighed in relief. "Better?"
"Much. You called Nat?"
"Had to. She's the expert on all things covert... including this." He grinned, pulling out the pads and tampons. "I got options. And chocolate—dark, because apparently that's the magic one." He unwrapped a bar and broke off a piece, handing it to you with a wink.
You took a bite, the rich flavor melting on your tongue, and felt a giggle bubble up despite everything. "You're ridiculous. Sweet, but ridiculous. We were supposed to be on a date."
"Dates can wait. This is more important." He settled beside you on the couch, pulling you into his side gently. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, and he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. "Tell me what you need. Movie? Soup? Me to rub your back?"
"Just... stay?"
"Wouldn't dream of leaving." He grabbed the remote and queued up your favorite rom-com, dimming the lights. As the opening credits rolled, he fetched a mug of ginger tea—Nat's suggestion again—and held it for you while you sipped.
The evening unfolded in quiet comfort. Tony didn't fuss too much, but he was there for every little thing: refilling your water, adjusting the blanket when you shivered, even humming along off-key to the movie's soundtrack to make you laugh. When the cramps eased a bit, he coaxed you into eating some crackers and cheese he'd grabbed from your fridge.
"You're too good to me," you murmured, leaning your head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady under your ear, a soothing rhythm.
He tilted your chin up with a finger, eyes soft. "Nah. You deserve it. All of it." His thumb brushed your cheek, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, wrapped in warmth and care.
By the time the movie ended, you were dozing against him, the pain dulled to a background hum. Tony didn't move, content to hold you as the city lights twinkled outside.
I was summoned. I’m here to tell you it seems there are some very, very interesting prompts floating around.
Reader is Steve’s ex; gets with Tony
Tony spends every waking moment making sure to let Steve know how precious and important reader is to him.
Pepper slander 😏
Tony making sure Steve hears them fucking
Mini skirts, no panties
YOU GOT THIS, BB
- 🐓😏
Oh look! I'm back from 2 weeks of writing nothing to this lovely request. Have Part 1 - I just wrote it today. Hopefully it makes sense and I can keep this just down to 2 Parts.
Anything Blue Can Do, Red & Gold Can Do Better - Part 1
Part 2 - to be posted
Characters/Pairings: Female Avenger!Reader, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, JARVIS
Summary: Fresh from your breakup with Steve, you quickly find that letting the details of your pathetic love life slip out to Tony opens the floodgates to something much, much more.
Warnings: Language, Pepper and Steve slander and general disrespect, Banter, Flirting, Dirty Talk, The Fastest Rebound in the History of the Planet, Filth and Smut
Word Count: 2279
In the weeks following your breakup with Steve, you’ve found yourself spending more and more time in Tony’s lab - it’s something that Steve had frowned upon. He never approved of your friendship with Tony. In fact, that was probably the final straw for you – the insinuation that Tony was a man who only fought for himself. It is one of your greatest regrets that you didn’t stand up for Tony when you first met him on the helicarrier that day.
Looking across the table you’re working at, you smile. Your project is coming together nicely, with no shortage of help from Tony. You speak loudly enough for your voice to carry over the loud music over to Tony, who is working a short distance away. “This is so nice. Not being criticized for my music choices or volume. Just working and not feeling like I’m being watched.”
The steady clicking of his ratchet ceases and Tony ducks down from under the open chest of the armor suspended above him to look at you, concern painted across his face. “I know he has a massive stick up his ass, but was Rogers really that bad?”
“He even kept reminding me to correct my posture,” you reply dryly, tossing your head to dismiss the memory.
“That must have been foreplay to him,” Tony quipped. You know he’s just trying his best to lighten the mood.
“At least there would have been some,” you grumble under your breath.
Tony practically leaps up, narrowly missing smoking his head on the armor he’s building. His eyes are wide as he all but skips towards you, scooping up his coffee mug and a rolling stool along the way to your workstation and planting himself across the table from you. “Now this I have to hear more about.”
You drop the wires you were untangling and bury your face in your hands and groan. “God, why did I bring that up? You cannot tell him I said any of this,” you drop your chin and raise your brows, waiting for Tony to agree with you.
He leans forward, propping his elbows on the tabletop. “JARVIS, what’s Lab Rule Number One?”
“ ‘What happens in the lab, stays in the lab.’Or perhaps you were looking for the Unofficial Rule Number One: ‘No bossing Mr. Stark around in a non-sexual manner’?”
Mirroring your own expectant look, Tony raises his brows, creating a perfect line across his forehead. “I expect you to adhere to both of those, by the way.”
You throw him a loose two-fingered salute, then sigh, staring into your own mug of coffee. ”I don’t even know if I remember what good sex is like.”
Raising his mug with a wry grin, Tony nods. “I’ll drink to that.”
There’s no stopping the incredulous laugh that bursts from your chest, it’s so uncontrollable that you have to close your eyes for a moment. When you finally compose yourself and open them again, Tony’s face is unamused, with one corner of his mouth downturned into the ghost of a scowl. Swallowing hard, you tilt your head as you look him up and down. “You’re telling me that the Anthony Edward Stark, ‘genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist’ doesn’t have good sex? Forgive me if I feel like you’re mocking me.”
“Oh, he does. It’s just that he’s not currently partaking in that version of it. Maybe it’s a time thing? Two year semi-stable relationship slump? Certainly nearly dying again didn’t help the Missus muster any more enthusiasm in the past few months.”
You shake your head in disbelief. That woman has Tony fucking Stark in her bed and isn’t treating him right? You couldn’t imagine wasting that opportunity, not that you’d ever get it. “Always go into bed ready to throw down. Something I’ve learned real quickly is why bother if there isn’t any passion? Steve thought me taking control was emasculating. Honestly, looking back, I think he thinks anything but missionary is emasculating.”
“Someone clearly doesn’t know the true joy of being completely used as a fuck toy,” Tony commiserates, “what I wouldn’t give for a bit of that treatment once in a while.”
“Shoulda found yourself someone who knows how to ride, Stark,” you reach out and tap the tip of his adorably perfect nose playfully. What’s the harm in flirting if you know it will go nowhere.
“Could you offer some lessons to Pep? I mean, we are talking about you, right? Please tell me we’re talking about you.”
Fuck is he good at this. “That sounds like a 100 level course, Tony, I don’t teach beginners,” you allow yourself a smug little grin before you continue. “Don’t get me wrong, I know my way around the package, but honestly, right now? I’d prefer to be slammed against the nearest hard surface.”
“Yeah? I definitely had you pegged as more of a scholar. How do you feel about instructing her on the finer points of blowjobs? Maybe Cocksucking 301: Advanced Ballhandling Techniques?”
You snort. “As long as you teach Steve about Pussy Eating 069: How to Make Her Come For Once.”
The shit-eating grin slides right off Tony’s face. “Not even once?”
“Not without significant effort on my part,” you wrinkle your nose, then quickly switch back to the game. “How about Dirty Talking 401: When To Call Her a Whore and How to Read the Room When She Won’t Ask.”
Pursing his lips, Tony’s eyes crinkle with joy. “I’d say that’s a prerequisite for Spitting 404: Which Hole and When.”
“Naturally. One of my personal favourites, along with Choking and Hairpulling 454: How Much is Too Much.”
Tony laughs, a full-bellied sound that startles you. “Rogers has no idea what he missed out on. Your sense of humour was completely wasted on him. Please save yourself the grief and pick someone fun the next time,” his voice still carries a ghost of his laughter, but his eyes are locked on to yours as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
“Yeah, well, I think I’m over dating–”
Movement behind the glass door behind Tony catches your eye and you clear your throat. “Incoming,” you dart your eyes between Tony and the door, then you make a point of picking your wires back up, as if you had just been asking him for advice and not shamelessly flirting.
Tony instantly clocks your warning and rolls back a little, and you steal a glance from under your lashes.
Oh, god.
He is sporting quite the hard-on, evident even through his dark denim pants.
You can’t judge, you’re practically sitting in a puddle of your own arousal after your discussion about all the things you’ve been missing out on.
All the things you’d give your left tit to experience with Tony.
Those wires suddenly become the most interesting thing on the entire planet. Swivelling to the side – surely to adjust himself – Tony takes a moment to get up to greet his visitor.
The door swings open and it’s as if the air turned sour in your lungs. The immediate shift from a little too friendly to hostility is palpable.
It’s in this moment that you become painfully aware of the music that has been blasting in the background. Nine Inch Nails’ Closer. You’re certain you’re going to slide under the table in embarrassment as Pepper strides in time to the lyrics:
I wanna fuck you like an animal
The sound of a record player’s shrill needle scratch brings the music to a shocking halt.
You’re choking on your own saliva as you cover your smile.
Pepper doesn’t acknowledge the music choice – or Tony’s less than subtle programming of JARVIS to indicate the party is over when she arrives – she simply takes her time in casting a disgusted look across the lab. Her cold blue eyes land on the torso of the latest Mark, hanging from the gantry above. "Is that another suit? Really, Tony? This is how you’ve decided your time is best spent?"
Tony looks like he’s glitching and you take the opportunity to push away from the table. “Maybe I should—” you begin.
But Pepper has other plans for you as she holds her index finger out at you. “No, you stay there so you can see how out of his mind he is. Can you believe he had the nerve to ask me to move in with him after the renovations and he has only spent two nights with me in the penthouse?”
Wincing, you hold your hands up. The last thing you need to be involved in is Tony’s relationship woes. Nope, you’re getting the fuck out of here as soon as you can sneak past them.
“Come on, Pep, you know where you can find me, it’s not like I’m out having fun. I’m here, working to keep you safe,” Tony isn’t yelling, he’s completely surrendering. That just doesn’t sit right with you at all.
“Please, Tony, if you wanted to keep me safe, you’d quit this ridiculous hero business. You’re the one putting a target on our backs. You need to stop wasting time on Iron Man and start acting like a grown-up,” Pepper crosses her arms, looking at Tony like he’s a speck of dirt. It’s a wonder she hasn’t grabbed him by the ear and drug him out of the lab yet.
Something in you cracks open and white-hot rage bursts from your chest. "You're the CEO of his company, not his life, Pepper. He survived Afghanistan and those alien fucks without your help! He doesn't need you micromanaging his every waking moment."
Pepper’s glare is positively murderous, but you match her intensity with your own.
“What gives you the right to speak to me like that?” She turns her attention back to Tony and you’re sure you see smoke coming from her ears. “Tony, aren’t you going to do something about her?”
You stand up, too full of manic energy to sit any longer. “Maybe as his friend and teammate, I actually give a shit about him. I thought being his girlfriend would also include you under that umbrella, but apparently not,” you pause to let that sink in before stepping beside your table. “I should leave now before I say something I’ll really regret.”
Tony holds his arm out in your direction and makes a placating gesture at you as he places himself between you and Pepper. “No. You stay,” he says softly, then snaps his head toward Pepper in a manner that makes your own neck seize. “You should go though.” There was no gentleness in the way he said that.
The way Pepper’s eyes nearly bug out of her skull is bordering on cartoonish. “Excuse me? We were having a conversation!” Her voice is panicked and shrill enough to make any dog within a three mile radius cringe.
Squaring his shoulders, Tony jerks his jaw to the side, narrowing his eyes at Pepper for an intense moment of silence. “You know, I thought I was the difficult one in this relationship, but there really is no pleasing you. Just a few months ago, the sky and streets were flooded with Loki’s army and you’ve forgotten that so easily? You’re right, Pepper, things haven’t been the same since that day. I’m not the same,” he motions to the armor he’s been working on for the past week, “This is how I deal with it. We got lucky that day. This was a warning. We aren’t prepared.”
Pepper has the nerve to scoff at that.
“Typical Tony. You think you’re the only one smart enough for the task. As if there isn’t an entire government agency dedicated to these types of threats.”
The exasperated growl that escapes Tony’s throat sends chills down your spine. “I told you when I got back that I survived for a reason. I couldn’t live with myself knowing people died when I could have done something to save them.”
“That’s just a fancy way of saying you need your ego stroked.”
Pain flares as your fingers curl into tight fists, your nails biting into the flesh of your palms. The audacity of this bitch is too much for you to take, but before you can say as much, the tension from Tony’s shoulders disappears.
“Tonight’s on me, stay in the penthouse. But tomorrow, I expect you out,” his voice is devoid of any discernable emotion. There’s no anger, no bitterness, just…acceptance.
Pepper steps closer to Tony, and you see him shift his weight to his heels. “You can’t mean that! Tony, we just spent months renovating for me to move in!”
“We? I don’t recall being an active participant other than providing the cash. I believe you made it your personal mission to scrub every trace of me out of the design process. If you want the decor, by all means, I’ll pay for a moving company to haul everything out for you.”
Her lip curls up, but her eyes remain wide with disbelief. “You’ll come crawling back when you realize how much you need me,” Pepper huffs, her hands shaking as she reaches for the door. Then she turns to look at you. “Don’t think I’m not onto you. Enjoy your new sugar daddy, you’ll find out just what a treat dealing with him every day turns out to be.”
Pepper slams the door, leaving the glass wobbling from the force. You watch it, blinking slowly at the wild exchange that you unwillingly just participated in. Had she been this awful to Tony for the two years they have been together? You can’t bear the thought of him suffering in silence for that long.
You'd been running on empty for weeks, the kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones and made every step feel like wading through mud. Between chasing after Eve and Hugh—your two little whirlwinds who turned every room into a disaster zone—and trying to keep the house from collapsing under the weight of toys, laundry, and half-eaten snacks, you were fraying at the edges. Tony noticed, of course. He always did. Those sharp eyes of his caught the way your smiles didn't reach your eyes anymore, how you'd snap at the smallest things or stare blankly at the wall during dinner. But he held back, hands itching to fix it all with his usual flair—gadgets, takeout, a weekend getaway—but he knew you. You hated help. It felt like pity to you, like admitting defeat. So he watched, concerned, waiting for the right moment that never seemed to come
The kids were pure chaos embodied. Eve, with her wild curls and endless energy, had a habit of painting murals on the walls with whatever she could find—ketchup one day, markers the next. Hugh, her younger shadow, toddled after her, knocking over stacks of books or spilling juice across the floor, his chubby hands leaving sticky prints everywhere. You loved them fiercely, but lately, that love was tangled up in frustration, the endless cycle of clean-pick up-clean again wearing you down until you could barely breathe.
One afternoon, Tony came home earlier than usual, the lab project wrapping up ahead of schedule. He stepped through the front door and froze. The living room looked like a tornado had hit it: cushions hurled from the couch, a trail of cereal leading to the kitchen, toys scattered like landmines. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, and the air smelled faintly of spilled milk gone sour. His heart clenched. This wasn't just the usual kid mess; this was overwhelm etched into every corner. "Hey, kids?" he called out, but silence answered. No giggles, no thuds of little feet. Just an eerie quiet that set his instincts on edge.
He moved quickly, checking the playroom—empty—then the kitchen, where a half-made sandwich sat abandoned on the counter. Up the stairs, his polished shoes quiet on the carpet, until he reached your shared bedroom. The door was ajar, and that's when he heard it: soft, broken sobs echoing off the tiles in the en-suite bathroom. He pushed the door open gently, and there you were—curled on the cold bathroom floor, knees drawn to your chest, face streaked with tears. Your hair was a tangled mess, clothes rumpled from what looked like a day of nonstop battles, and your shoulders shook with each ragged breath.
"Oh, honey," Tony whispered, his voice thick with worry. He dropped to his knees beside you, careful not to startle you. You looked up, eyes red and puffy, and managed a watery whisper: "I called Mom. She picked up Eve and Hugh for the weekend. I... I couldn't anymore."
He didn't hesitate. Sliding his arms under you—strong, steady despite the tremor in his hands—he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest like you weighed nothing. You buried your face in his shirt, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with faint traces of motor oil from the workshop. He carried you to the bed, the king-sized haven with its rumpled sheets, and eased you down onto the soft mattress. But you didn't let go; instead, you curled into him as he settled beside you, pulling you close until your head rested on his chest, his heartbeat a steady drum under your ear.
Tony's hand stroked your back in slow, soothing circles, his other arm wrapped securely around your waist. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, murmuring softly, "I've got you. Just breathe, okay? Whatever it is, we will figure it out." His voice was gentle, stripped of its usual sarcasm, all warmth and quiet strength. Minutes passed like that, your sobs easing into hiccups as the tension in your body began to uncoil under his touch.
Finally, when your breathing steadied, he tilted your chin up with a finger, searching your eyes. "Talk to me. Why are you so worked up? What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"
The words tumbled out then, a floodgate opening. You told him everything—the sleepless nights piecing together Eve's puzzles only for Hugh to smash them, the endless laundry that multiplied like rabbits, the way you'd stare at the messy house and feel like a failure for not keeping it together. How the kids' laughter sometimes grated because you were so tired, how you missed the version of yourself that could handle it all with a smile. "I'm just... drowning, Tony. And I hate asking for help because it makes me feel weak. But I can't keep going like this."
He listened without interrupting, his thumb brushing away fresh tears as they fell. When you finished, he pulled you closer, his lips grazing your forehead. "You're not weak. You're the strongest person I know—raising our little terrors while I tinker away in the lab? That's superhero stuff. But even heroes need a break. Let me in, yeah? We fix this together. No judgments, no strings."
Exhaustion crashed over you like a wave, and with his arms around you, you finally let go. Sleep came swiftly, deep and dreamless, your body surrendering to the comfort of his embrace.
When you woke hours later, the room was dimmed by the setting sun filtering through half-closed blinds. Tony was still there, propped on one elbow, watching you with a soft smile. The ache in your chest had dulled, replaced by a tentative warmth. "Hey, sleeping beauty," he teased lightly, but his eyes were serious, full of care.
Your stomach growled then, loud in the quiet room, and you flushed. He chuckled, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. "Figured you'd be hungry. I called in your favorite—extra cheesy pizza from that little place downtown, with all the toppings you love. It's on the way. And I texted your mom; the kids are having a blast with her, no rush to pick them up."
He shifted, helping you sit up and tucking pillows behind your back. Then, with efficient tenderness, he fetched a warm washcloth from the bathroom, gently wiping your face clean of the day's grime. He even ran a brush through your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp in a way that made you sigh. When the doorbell rang, he vanished briefly, returning with the steaming box and a couple of sodas.
You ate cross-legged on the bed, the gooey cheese stretching as you took bites, Tony feeding you a piece with exaggerated flair that drew a genuine laugh from you—the first in days. He didn't push for more talk; instead, he kept things light, sharing silly stories from the lab to distract you. Afterward, he drew a bath in the oversized tub, adding bubbles and your favorite lavender oil, then helped you undress and slip in, his hands lingering just enough to reassure without demanding.
As you soaked, he sat on the edge, talking softly about nothing and everything—plans for hiring a cleaner, maybe a nanny for a few hours a week, ways to share the load without it feeling like charity. You nodded, the water easing the knots in your muscles, his presence easing the ones in your heart. By the time you climbed out, wrapped in a fluffy towel, the weight on your shoulders felt lighter, shared.
“A drunken kiss that neither of them can stop thinking about.” + “We’ve already crossed the line. The second I realized I loved you, we did.”
They share a drunken kiss after an Avengers party, and after the kiss they realize they love each other. When they're about to talk about the kiss and that they can't cross that line again, Tony says that second sentence to her, with smut because I can’t help it hahaha 🥰
The Lines We Crossed
Pairing: Tony Stark x F!Reader
Warning/Rating: 18+; explicit, graphic sexual activity (manual/oral stimulation, penetration, orgasm described in detail), protected sex, language, drunken-ish sex; consensual drunken sex
Word Count: 4 K
The Avengers Tower was alive with music, laughter, and the clink of expensive glasses filled with even more expensive alcohol. Tony Stark’s parties were legendary, and tonight’s celebration - marking another successful mission that hadn’t resulted in any major property damage - was no exception.
You stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline, nursing your third glass of champagne. Or was it your fourth? The bubbles had started blurring together about an hour ago, leaving you with a pleasant warmth that spready from your chest to your fingertips.
“Enjoying the view?”
Tony’s voice came from behind you, smooth and tinged with that particular brand of confidence that only he could pull off. You turned to find him approaching with two fresh glasses, his bow tie completely discarded and the top button of his shirt undone. His dark eyes held that familiar spark of mischief, but there was something else there tonight - something that made your pulse quicken.
“The view’s not bad,” you replied, accepting the glass he offered. Your fingers brushed against his, and you didn’t miss the way his gaze flickered to where your hands touched. “Though I’ve seen better.”
“Ouch.” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “And here I paid a fortune for these windows.”
“I was talking about the view right in front of me.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them, emboldened by alcohol and the way Tony had been looking at you all evening. You had been working with the Avengers for two years now - not as a superhero, but as their strategic analyst and communications director. Somewhere between mission briefings and late-night strategy sessions, you and Tony had developed an easy rapport. Friendly banter. Harmless flirting.
Except lately, it hadn’t felt so harmless.
Tony’s eyebrows arched, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, well. Someone’s feeling bold tonight.”
“Someone’s had too much champagne,” you countered, but you didn’t look away.
“There’s no such thing as too much champagne at a Stark party.” He moved to stand beside you, close enough that you could smell his cologne - something expensive and woodsy that made you want to lead closer. “Besides, I like you bold.”
The party continued around you - Thor’s booming laugh from across the room, Natasha and Clint engaged in what looked like a very serious game of pool, Steven and Bruce sitting at the bar in a deep discussion. But in that moment, it felt like you and Tony existed in your own bubble.
“You’ve been staring at me all night,” you said, turning to face him fully. The champagne had dissolved your filter entirely.
“Have I?” His voice dropped lower, more intimate. “Maybe I like what I’m looking at.”
“Tony…”
“What? I’m just appreciating my very talented, extremely beautiful communications director.” He took a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Is that a crime?”
Your heart hammered against your ribs. This was dangerous territory. You worked together. You were friends. There were a thousand reasons why this - whatever this was - shouldn’t happen.
But God, the way he was looking at you made every single reason evaporate like morning mist.
“We should probably rejoin the party,” you said, even as you made no move to leave.
“Probably,” Tony agreed, also not moving. “Or…”
“Or?”
He set his glass down on a nearby table, then gently took yours and placed it beside his. The gesture was deliberate, giving you time to object, to step away. You did neither.
“Or we could stop pretending we haven’t been dancing around this for months,” he said softly.
Your breath caught. “Tony, we’re drunk.”
“I’m not that drunk.” His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing across your cheek with devastating tenderness. “I’ve wanted to do this sober plenty of times. The alcohol just finally gave me the courage.”
“This is a bad idea,” you whispered, but you were already leaning into his touch.
“I’ve built a career on bad ideas.” His lips quirked into that signature smirk. “They usually work out pretty well for me.”
“Usually?”
“Always,” he corrected. “They always work out.”
The space between you had narrowed to mere inches. You could count his eyelashes, see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“We can’t,” you said, but it sounded like a question.
“We can,” he replied, and it sounded like a promise.
When his lips met yours, the rest of the world fell away.
The kiss started soft, tentative - a question being asked and answered. But then your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, and something inside both of you snapped. Tony’s arm wrapped around your waist, pressing you against him as the kiss deepened, intensified. His other hand tangled in your hair, angling your head to kiss you more thoroughly.
You had been kissed before, but this - this was something else entirely.
This was champagne and starligh and every late-night conversation you had ever had. This was the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching, the way your heart raced whenever he walked into a room. This was months of tension and longing and denial finally combusting into something that felt inevitable.
Tony kissed like he did everything else - with complete confidence and devastating skill. His tongue swept against yours, drawing a soft moan from your throat that he swallowed greedily. Your fingers found their way into his hair, and he groaned against your mouth, the sound sending heat pooling low in your belly.
When you finally broke apart, both breathing hard, you stared at each other in stunned silence.
And that’s when it hit you.
The realization crashed over you like a wave, so obvious and overwhelming that you couldn’t believe you had missed it before. This wasn’t just an attraction. This wasn’t just wanting him.
You were in love with Tony Stark.
Completely, irrevocably, terrifyingly in love.
“Oh,” you breathed.
“Yeah,” he said roughly. “Oh.”
For a long moment, neither of you moved. The party continued around you, oblivious to the fact that your entire world had just shifted on its axis.
“I should -” you started.
“Yeah, you should -” he agreed.
But neither of you finished the sentence. Neither of you moved away.
“Tony,” you whispered, and his name had ever sounded like that before - like a prayer, like a plea, like everything you had been too afraid to say.
He kissed you again, harder this time, more desperate. Your back hit the window, and his body pressed against yours, and you forgot why this was supposed to be a bad idea. You forgot everything except the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your body, the way your heart was trying to beat its way out of your chest.
“Get a room!”
Clint’s voice cut through the haze, followed by Natasha’s laugh. You and Tony broke apart like teenages caught by their parents, both flushed and breathing hard.
Tony cleared his throat, straightening his shirt with as much dignity as he could muster. “We were just -”
“We know what you were doing,” Natasha said, smirking. “Finally.”
“Finally?” you repeated.
“Oh, honey.” She shook her head. “Everyone knew. You two have been eye-fucking each other for months.”
Your face burned. Tony, to his credit, just shrugged. “Can you blame me?”
“Go,” Natasha said, making a shooing motion. “Before you scandalize Steve any more than you already have.”
You glanced across the room to find Steve very deliberately looking anywhere but at you, his ears bright red.
Tony grabbed your hand. “Come on.”
He led you through the part, past knowing looks and barely concealed smiles, to the elevator. The moment the doors closed, he had you pressed against the wall, kissing you like you were oxygen.
Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the arc reactor beneath his shirt, the rapid beat of his heart. His hands gripped your hips, thumbs stroking the strip of skin where your shirt had ridden up.
“Your place or mine?” he murmured against your lips.
“Yours is closer.”
“Smart woman.”
The elevator ride to his penthouse felt like an eternity. You kissed the whole way, breaking apart only when JARVIS announced your arrival with what sounded suspiciously like amusement in his artificial voice.
Tony’s penthouse was familiar territory - you had been here countless times for meetings, for movie nights, for late-night conversations when neither of you could sleep. But walking in now, with his hand in yours and the taste of him still on your lips, everything felt different.
“Do you want a drink?” he asked, then laughed. “Actually, that’s probably the last thing either of us needs.”
“Water would be good,” you admitted.
He got you both water from the kitchen, and you drank it gratefully, the cool liquid helping to clear some of the champagne fog from your head. Which meant you could think a little more clearly again.
Which meant you could panic.
“Tony,” you said carefully, setting down your glass. “We should talk about this.”
“I know.” He set his own glass down, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I know we should.”
“We work together.”
“Yes.”
“We’re friends.”
“Yes.”
“This could complicate everything.”
“It could,” he agreed.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the penthouse. “Maybe we should just… forget this happened. Blame it on the alcohol. Go back to how things were.”
Tony was quiet for a long moment. Then he stepped closer, his eyes intense and more sober than you had seen them all night.
“Is that what you want?” he asked softly.
“I want…” You trailed off, because what you wanted and what was smart were two very different things. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that. If we do this, if we cross this line -”
“We’ve already crossed the line.”
You blinked. “What?”
Tony moved closer, his hand coming up to cup your face with such tenderness it made your chest ache. “We’ve already crossed the line. The second I realized I loved you, we did.”
The world stopped spinning.
"You..." Your voice came out as barely a whisper. "You love me?"
"Yeah." He laughed, but it was shaky, vulnerable in a way Tony Stark rarely allowed himself to be. "Apparently I do. Took a drunken kiss for me to figure it out, but there it is. I'm in love with you. Have been for a while, probably. I'm just an idiot who needed champagne and your lips on mine to finally admit it."
Tears pricked at your eyes. "Tony..."
"And I know that's terrifying," he continued, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. "Believe me, I know. I'm not exactly great at this whole... feelings thing. I'm much better with machines and sarcasm. But I can't - I won't pretend I don't feel this. I won't pretend that kiss didn't change everything, because it did. At least for me."
"For me too," you admitted, your voice breaking. "God, Tony, for me too. I love you. I think I've loved you for months, and I've been so scared -"
He kissed you before you could finish, and this kiss was different from the ones before. This wasn't fueled by alcohol or desperation. This was a promise, a beginning, a leap of faith taken together.
"Don't be scared," he murmured against your lips. "Be with me instead."
"That's what scares me," you admitted. "How much I want this. Want you."
"Then stop fighting it." His forehead pressed against yours, his hands framing your face like you were something precious. "Stop fighting us."
"What if we mess this up?"
"Then we'll fix it. That's what I do - I fix things." He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "But I don't think we will. I think we're going to be fucking amazing together."
A laugh bubbled up from your chest, breaking through the fear. "Your confidence is showing."
"It's one of my best features." His smile turned wicked. "Though I have several others I'd be happy to demonstrate."
Heat flooded through you at the implication. "Tony..."
"Tell me you want this," he said, his voice dropping to that low, intimate register that made your knees weak. "Tell me you want me, and I'll spend the rest of the night showing you exactly how I feel about you."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. This was it - the moment of no return. You could still walk away, could still try to preserve the friendship, the working relationship. Could still play it safe.
But you'd never felt less safe than you did right now, standing in Tony Stark's penthouse with your heart in your throat and his hands on your skin. And you'd never wanted anything more.
"I want this," you whispered. "I want you."
The words had barely left your lips before Tony was kissing you again, and this time there was no hesitation, no holding back. His hands slid down your sides to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. You could feel every hard plane of his body, the evidence of his arousal pressing against your stomach.
Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. He helped you, shrugging out of the expensive fabric and tossing it aside without care. Your hands splayed across his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady glow of the arc reactor, the rapid beat of his heart.
"You're beautiful," you breathed.
He laughed softly. "That's my line."
His hands found the hem of your shirt, and he paused, giving you one last chance to change your mind. Instead, you raised your arms, and he pulled the fabric over your head. His eyes darkened as he took you in, his gaze roaming over your body with such open appreciation that you felt beautiful, desired, cherished.
"Bedroom," he said roughly. "Now."
He led you through the penthouse to his bedroom - a space you had never seen before. It was surprisingly tasteful, all clean lines and muted colors, dominated by a massive bed that your eyes immediately fixed on.
Tony noticed. "Like what you see?"
"Getting there," you teased, even as your fingers went to his belt.
He groaned as you unbuckled it, his hands tangling in your hair. "You're killing me."
"Good."
You pushed his pants down, and he kicked them off along with his shoes. He stood before you in just his boxer briefs, and God, he was gorgeous. All lean muscle and golden skin and that cocky smile that made you want to either kiss him or strangle him.
Maybe both.
His hands went to your pants, returning the favor. Soon you were both down to your underwear, and the air between you crackled with electricity.
"Last chance," Tony said, even as his hands skimmed up your sides. "We can still stop."
"Do you want to stop?"
"Fuck no."
"Then shut up and kiss me."
He did, walking you backward until your legs hit the bed. You fell onto it together, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses. His weight settled over you, perfect and right, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
Tony's lips left yours to trail down your neck, finding that sensitive spot below your ear that made you gasp. He smiled against your skin, filing that information away, before continuing his exploration. His hands slid behind your back, unhooking your bra with ease.
"Show-off," you muttered.
"You haven't seen anything yet."
He pulled the bra away, and his eyes went dark with want. "Jesus Christ," he breathed. "You're perfect."
Before you could respond, his mouth was on your breast, tongue swirling around your nipple. Your back arched off the bed, a moan escaping your lips. His hand cupped your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, and pleasure shot straight through you.
"Tony," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair.
He hummed against your skin, the vibration making you shudder. His mouth moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention, while his hand trailed down your stomach. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, and you lifted your hips to help him slide them off.
Then his hand was between your legs, and you forgot how to breathe.
"Fuck," Tony groaned, his fingers sliding through your wetness. "You're so ready for me."
"I've been ready for months," you admitted breathlessly.
His eyes met yours, dark and intense. "Me too."
He circled your clit with his thumb, and your hips bucked against his hand. He watched your face as he touched you, learning what made you gasp, what made you moan, what made your eyes roll back in pleasure.
"That's it," he murmured as he slid a finger inside you. "Let me hear you."
You were beyond caring about being quiet. Every touch sent sparks of pleasure through your body, building and building until you were trembling beneath him. He added a second finger, curling them just right, and you cried out.
"Tony, please -"
"Please what?" His thumb pressed harder against your clit. "Tell me what you need."
"You," you gasped. "I need you inside me."
He groaned like you'd physically hurt him. "Condom. Nightstand."
You reached over, fumbling in the drawer until you found one. Tony took it from you, sitting back on his heels to push down his boxer briefs. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him - hard and ready and perfect.
He rolled on the condom with shaking hands, and you realized he was just as affected as you were. Just as desperate.
"Come here," you said softly, reaching for him.
He settled between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your eyes locked, and in that moment, everything else fell away. It was just you and him and this perfect, terrifying, beautiful thing between you.
"I love you," he said, and then he pushed inside.
You both groaned at the sensation - the stretch, the fullness, the absolute rightness of it. He stilled once he was fully seated, giving you time to adjust, his forehead pressed against yours.
"Okay?" he asked roughly.
"More than okay." You rolled your hips experimentally, and he hissed. "Move, Tony. Please."
He did, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. The pace started slow, deliberate, both of you savoring every sensation. But it wasn't long before slow wasn't enough.
"Harder," you urged, your nails digging into his shoulders.
Tony's control snapped. He hooked your leg over his hip, changing the angle, and thrust harder, deeper. The new position had him hitting that perfect spot inside you with every stroke, and you couldn't hold back your cries of pleasure.
"That's it," he groaned. "Let me hear you. Let me know how good I'm making you feel."
"So good," you gasped. "Tony, God, so good -"
His hand slid between your bodies, finding your clit again. The dual sensation of his cock inside you and his fingers on your clit was overwhelming. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, building toward something explosive.
"I'm close," you warned, your body tensing.
"Come for me," he commanded, his voice rough. "Let me feel you."
His fingers circled your clit faster, and that was all it took. Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, pleasure radiating through every nerve ending. You cried out his name, your body clenching around him.
"Fuck," Tony groaned, and his rhythm faltered. "You feel so - I can't -"
He thrust hard once, twice more, and then he was coming too, your name on his lips like a prayer. He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing hard, hearts racing in tandem.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. Tony's weight was comforting, grounding, and you ran your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair.
"That was..." you started.
"Yeah," he agreed.
He lifted his head to look at you, and his expression was so open, so vulnerable, that it made your chest ache. "I meant it," he said softly. "I love you."
"I love you too," you replied, cupping his face. "So much it terrifies me."
"Good." He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "We can be terrified together."
He carefully pulled out, disposing of the condom before returning to pull you into his arms. You curled against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath the arc reactor.
"What happens now?" you asked quietly.
"Now?" Tony's fingers traced lazy patterns on your shoulder. "Now we figure it out. Together. We tell the team—though I'm pretty sure they already know. We navigate the work thing. We probably argue about stupid stuff because we're both stubborn as hell. And we do this -" he gestured between you, "- as often as humanly possible."
You laughed. "Sounds like a plan."
"I'm good at plans." He tilted your chin up to kiss you softly. "Especially when they involve you naked in my bed."
"Smooth, Stark."
"It's another one of my best features," he repeated with a grin.
You settled back against his chest, feeling more content than you had in months. Maybe years. "I can't believe we waited this long."
"We were idiots," Tony agreed. "But we're not anymore."
"No," you said softly. "We're not."
Outside the windows, the Manhattan skyline glittered with a million lights. Inside, wrapped in Tony's arms, you felt like you had finally come home.
"Hey," Tony said after a while.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you."
You lifted your head to look at him. "For what?"
"For taking a chance on me." His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing across your skin. "For loving me even though I'm a disaster."
"You're my disaster," you corrected, covering his hand with yours. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
He kissed you again, slow and sweet and full of promise. And as you lost yourself in him once more, you knew with absolute certainty that crossing that line had been the best decision you'd ever made.
Because some lines weren't meant to keep you apart.
Some lines were meant to be crossed, so you could find your way to exactly where you belonged.
And you belonged here, with him, in this moment and all the moments to come.
"Round two?" Tony murmured against your lips, his hand already sliding down your body.
You laughed, pulling him closer. "Absolutely."
After all, you had months of wanting to make up for.
And with Tony Stark, you had a feeling you were going to enjoy every single second.
The next morning, you woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and Tony's arm draped across your waist. For a moment, you just lay there, savoring the warmth of his body against yours, the peaceful expression on his sleeping face.
Then his eyes fluttered open, and he smiled - a real, genuine smile that made your heart skip.
"Morning," he said, his voice rough with sleep.
"Morning."
He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "So. That happened."
"It did."
"Regrets?"
You pretended to think about it. "Well, you did hog the blankets."
"That's a serious accusation."
"I have evidence." You gestured to the blankets pooled mostly on his side of the bed.
Tony laughed, the sound warm and happy. "I'll work on that. Anything else?"
You turned in his arms to face him fully, your hand resting over his arc reactor. "Not a single one."
"Good." He kissed you softly. "Because I plan on keeping you here for the foreseeable future."
"What about the team? Work?"
"JARVIS can handle it."
"I don't think that's how it works."
"It is now." Tony's hand slid down your back, pulling you flush against him. "I have more important things to focus on."
"Oh?" You could feel him hardening against your thigh. "Like what?"
"Like making up for all the time we wasted not doing this."
He rolled you onto your back, settling between your legs, and you forgot all about work, the team, and everything else that wasn't Tony Stark loving you the way you'd always dreamed he would.
Summary: you find out your pregnant and Tony goes head over heels for you. And once the baby is born, oh, he’s an absolute mess. [WC 905] [Ao3]
Warnings: fluff, pregnancy
Request: Anonymous Tony Stark spoiling/taking care of his pregnant wife and being the cutest dad ever, boy dad 🩵 just a sweet bomb of fluff
Tony notices before you do.Not the test. Not the symptoms. You. It’s the way you pause halfway up the stairs, hand pressed to your lower back like you’re trying to remember how your own body works. The way you fall asleep mid-sentence on the couch, cheek squished into a throw pillow, TV still playing. The way you look… softer. Quieter.
He doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches.
Then one morning, you shuffle into the kitchen, hair a mess, one of his old MIT shirts hanging off your shoulders, and you gag at the smell of coffee.
Tony freezes mid-sip. “…That’s illegal,” he says slowly. “You love coffee. You worship coffee. I’ve seen you threaten a barista.”
You just groan, hand over your mouth. “Don’t talk to me.”
And that’s when it clicks.
—
After the test, after the stunned silence and the shaky laugh that turns into something softer, something real, Tony Stark breaks. Not in a bad way. In a completely, hopelessly gone for you kind of way.
“Okay, absolutely not.”
You blink up at him from the couch. “What?”
“You are not walking anywhere ever again,” Tony says, already pulling out his phone. “I’m designing a mobility solution.”
“…I just went to the bathroom.”
“Dangerous terrain. Slippery floors. High risk environment.”
“Tony—”
“FRIDAY, remind me to install heated flooring and—no, wait, anti-slip and heated. Both. Obviously.”
You stare at him. “…you’re insane.”
He crouches in front of you, hands gently cupping your face, suddenly serious. “You’re growing a human,” he says quietly. “My human. Our human. I’m allowed to be a little insane.”
Your expression softens instantly. “…okay. A little.”
He spoils you relentlessly. Midnight cravings? Already handled.
You mumble something half-asleep about wanting strawberry milk and grilled cheese at 2:13 a.m., and before you even fully wake up, he’s back—hair messy, shirt wrinkled, holding a tray like it’s a five-star meal.
“Your Michelin-star disaster, madam.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I know.”
Doctor appointments? He’s there. Early. Too early. “Tony, it’s at 10.”
“Yes, and it is currently 8:12. We are late.”
“We are not late.”
“We are spiritually late.”
The first time he hears the heartbeat, He goes completely still. Like someone unplugged him. Your hand tightens in his as the sound fills the room, fast and steady and real, and when you glance over, Tony’s eyes are glassy.
“Hey,” you whisper, thumb brushing over his knuckles.
He lets out a shaky breath, laughing under it. “That’s— that’s my kid.”
“Our kid,” you correct softly.
He nods, swallowing hard. “…our kid.”
—
He talks to your belly constantly. At first it’s jokes. “Listen, kid, I’m gonna level with you—your mom? Way out of my league. You’re gonna need to help me out here.”
Then it turns into rambling stories, soft confessions, things he doesn’t even realize he’s saying out loud. “You’ve got the best mom in the world,” he murmurs one night, palm resting gently against you as you lay in bed. “She’s… everything good I didn’t think I deserved.”
You pretend to be asleep. But your eyes sting anyway.
When you get bigger, slower, more uncomfortable—
He adjusts without a second thought. Shoes? He’s kneeling, tying them.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
Baths? Already run, perfect temperature. Back pain? His hands are warm and steady, rubbing slow circles like he’s memorizing every inch of you.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
“I feel like a whale.”
He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You’re my favorite whale.”
You snort. “That was terrible.”
“I’m sleep-deprived and in love, cut me some slack.”
And when the baby finally comes, Tony is a wreck. Pacing. Hovering. Running his hands through his hair every five seconds. “Is she okay? Are you okay? Is everyone okay? Why is no one updating me every three seconds—”
“Mr. Stark—”
“I have anxiety and a lot of money, let me cope!”
But the second he hears that first cry, Everything else disappears.
Later, when it’s quiet again, when the world feels softer, they place your son in his arms.
Tony looks… terrified.
“Hey,” you whisper weakly, reaching for his hand. “You’ve got him.”
“I know, I just—he’s so small.”
The baby fusses slightly, tiny fingers curling, and Tony freezes like if he breathes wrong, he’ll break him. Then, “…hi,” he says softly.
And something shifts. His shoulders relax. His grip steadies. The baby in his arms quiets, like he already knows him. Tony lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “Oh my god.”
You smile, exhausted and glowing. “What?”
He looks up at you, eyes shining. “I made a person.”
“You helped.”
“I greatly contributed.”
You roll your eyes. “Of course you did.”
He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then gently to the baby’s head. “…I’m gonna spoil him rotten,” he murmurs.
“You already do that to me.”
“Yeah, but now I have two of you.” He grins softly. “I’m in trouble.”
Later that night, when it’s just the three of you, Tony sits in the dim light, your son tucked carefully against his chest, impossibly small against him.
He hums under his breath, absentminded, one hand gently rocking. “…you’re gonna be okay,” he whispers. “I’ve got you. Both of you.”
And for once, Tony isn’t thinking about the world ending. He’s thinking about first steps. First words. Tiny sneakers by the door. And a future that finally feels… worth everything.
They are in a secret relationship, they love each other with all their heart but they are hid in because they want to live in their little bubble of love, but in one of Tony’s gala a man starts to flirt with her and even if she’s ignoring him, Tony gets mad with him and absolutely jealous so they come home and make of course make sex 🫠 breeding and marking kink to make everything even better 🤭
Mine
Pairing: Tony Stark x F!Reader
Warning/Rating: 18+; explicit, age-gap, graphic sexual activity (manual/oral stimulation, penetration, orgasm described in detail), unprotected sex, language, breeding kink, marking kink
Word Count: 3.1 K
The crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across the ballroom, turning Tony Starks’ annual charity gala into something out of a fairy tale. You smoothed down the front of your dress - a stunning emerald number that hugged every curve - and tried to ignore the way your heart rached every time you caught a glimpse of him across the room.
Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, philanthropist, and the man who owned your heart completely.
He stood near the bar, scotch in hand, laughing at something Rhodey said. The tuxedo fit him like a second skin, and even from this distance, you could see the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. That smile that was reserved for you in the quiet moments you stole together, away from the world’s prying eyes.
Your relationship was a secret. A beautiful, precious secret that you both guarded jealously. No press. No speculation. No Avengers teasing or board members questioning his judgment. Just you and him, existing in a bubble of stolen kisses and whispered promises, tangled sheets and lazy Sunday mornings when he would make you pancakes and burn them while trying to kiss you at the same time.
It was perfect. It was yours.
“Excuse me, but I couldn’t help noticing you standing here all alone.”
You turned to find a man in an expensive suit - probably some tech investor or hedge fund manager - smiling at you with practiced charm. He was handsome in a generic way, with perfectly styled blonde hair and teeth too white to be natural.
“I’m fine, thank you,” you said politely, turning back toward the crowd.
“A woman like you shouldn’t be fine. She should be extraordinary.” He moved closer, and you caught a whiff of cologne that was trying too hard. “I’m Brandon Ashford. Ashford Technologies?”
“Nice to meet you,” you said noncommittally, taking a small step away.
He didn’t take the hint. “You know, I’ve been watching you all evening. You move through this crowd like you own it, but you’re not really with anyone, are you? No ring on that finger.” His eyes traveled down your body in a way that made your skin crawl. “What do you say we get out of here? I know place in Tribeca with the most amazing -”
“I’m not interested,” you said firmly, your voice polite but cold.
“Come on, don’t be like that. One drink. What’s the harm?” he reached out to touch your arm.
You stepped back again, but before you could say anything else, you felt it - that electric charge in the air that always preceded Tony’s presence. The temperature in your immediate vicinity seemed to rise several degrees.
“I think the lady said she’s not interested.” Tony’s voice was smooth as silk and sharp as a blade. He appeared at your side, his hand sliding possessively around your waist, pulling you against him. The touch sent shivers down your spine, as it always did, but there was something different in his grip tonight. Something tighter. More claiming.
Brandon’s eyes widened slightly as he recognized Tony. “Mr. Stark, I didn’t realize -”
“Didn’t realize what? That she is with someone?” Tony's smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Let me make this crystal clear for you, Brandon Ashford of Ashford Technologies. The lady isn’t interested. She won’t be interested tomorrow. She won’t be interested next week. She won’t be interested ever. Do we understand each other?”
The possessive edge in Tony’s voice made your pulse quicken. You had never seen him like this - jaw tight, eyes dark with something dangerous and primal.
“Of course, my apologies,” Brandon stammered, back away quickly and disappearing into the crowd.
Tony’s hand remained on your waist, his fingers pressing into the silk of your dress. You could feel the tension radiating from his body, the barely controlled energy that hummed beneath his skin.
“Tony,” you said softly, looking up at him. His jaw was clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “I wasn’t -”
“I know.” His voice was low, rough. “I know you weren’t encouraging him. I watched the whole thing.” His eyes met yours, and the intensity in them made your breath catch. “I watched him look at you like he had any right to. Like you weren’t already taken. Like you weren’t already mine.”
The possessiveness in his voice sent heat pooling in your belly. “We should probably stay,” you whispered, even as your body betrayed you, leaning into him. “It’s your gala.”
“Fuck the gala.” His hand slid lower, resting just above the curve of your ass. “Pepper can make up an excuse. Right now, I need to take you home.”
The way he said “need” made it clear this wasn’t a request. It was a necessity, as vital as breathing.
“Okay,” you breathed.
His eyes darkened further, and without another word, he guided you through the crowd, his hand never leaving your body. You were vaguely aware of people trying to stop him, to talk to him, but he brushed them all off with ease, his focus entirely on getting you out of there.
The car ride back to the tower was torture. Tony sat beside you in the back of the car, his hand on your thigh, fingers drawing maddening circles on your skin through the silk of your dress. He didn't speak, but you could feel the jealous energy rolling off him in waves.
"Tony," you whispered, putting your hand over his. "I'm yours. You know that."
His eyes snapped to yours, dark and hungry. "Do I? Because half the men in that room were looking at you like you were dessert, and none of them knew you were already claimed."
"You're the only one I see," you said softly. "The only one I want."
His hand tightened on your thigh. "I'm going to make sure you remember that tonight."
The promise in his words made you clench your thighs together, heat flooding through you.
The moment you entered his penthouse, Tony was on you. He pressed you against the door, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that was all possession and need. His hands were everywhere - tangling in your hair, sliding down your sides, gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks.
“Mine,” he growled against your lips. “You’re mine.”
“Yes,” you gasped as his mouth moved to your neck, teeth scraping against your pulse point. “Always yours.”
He bit down, hard enough to leave a mark, and you moaned. “Everyone’s going to see this tomorrow,” he murmured against your skin. “Everyone’s going to know you belong to someone.” His hands found the zipper of your dress, and in one smooth motion, he pulled it down. The emerald silk pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but black lace and heels.
“Fuck,” Tony breathed, his eyes raking over you with an intensity that made you feel like you were burning. “Look at you. Perfect. Mine.”
He picked you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom. He laid you on the bed with surprising gentleness given the fierce hunger in his eyes, and then he was covering your body with his, still fully clothed while you were nearly naked beneath him.
“Do you have any idea what it does to me?” he asked, his voice rough as his hands explored your body. “Watching other men look at you? Wanting you? Thinking they have a chance?”
“Tony -”
“I wanted to tell every single person in that room that you’re mine. That you’ve been mine for months. That you sleep in my bed every night and wake up in my arms every morning.” His hand slid between your thighs, fingers brushing over the lace covering your pussy, and he groaned when he felt how wet you already were. “That you get this wet for me and only.”
“Please,” you whimpered, arching into his touch.
“Please what, baby?” His fingers slipped beneath the lace, finding you slick and read. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. I want you. Only you.”
He captured your mouth in another searing kiss as his fingers worked you expertly. You clutched at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, desperate for more.
“I’m going to makr every inch of you,” he murmured against your lips. “I’m going to make sure you feel me for days. And then I’m going to fill you up, make you mine in every possible way.”
His words sent a jolt of pleasure through you. You had talked about it before, in the heat of passion - the idea of him claiming you so completely, of him putting a baby in you. It was fantasy and desire mixed with the deep love you shared, the future you both wanted but were too afraid to reach for yet.
“Yes,” you gasped as his fingers brought you closer to the edge. “Please, Tony. I want that. I want you.”
He withdrew his fingers, ignoring your whimper of protest, and stood up to undress. You watched hungrily as he shed his tuxedo, revealing the body you knew so well - the arc reactor glowing in his chest, the scars that told stories of survival, the lean muscles that came from hours in the workshop and training with the Avengers.
When he was finally naked, he crawled back over you, his hands making quick work of your remaining lace. He kissed down your body, teeth grazing over your collarbone, your breasts, your ribs. Each bite was deliberate, each mark a claim.
“So beautiful,” he mumbled against your skin. “And all mine.”
His mouth found your breast, tongue swirling around your nipple before he bit down gently. You cried out, your hands tangling in his hair. He gave the same attention to your other breast, marking you, claiming you, making sure you would see the evidence of his possession tomorrow.
“Tony, please,” you bagged, your body aching for him. “I need you to fuck me.”
He kisse dhis way back up your body, positioning himself between your thighs. The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, and you both groaned at the contact.
"Look at me," he commanded, and your eyes locked with his. "I want you to see who's making you feel this good. I want you to remember who you belong to."
He pushed inside you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely, and you both moaned at the sensation. He was big, stretching you perfectly, and the feeling of him inside you was like coming home.
"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight. So perfect. Made for me."
He started to move, slow and deep, each thrust deliberate and claiming. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, and you welcomed it, welcomed every mark, every claim he made on your body.
"Harder," you gasped, your nails raking down his back. "Please, Tony. I need more."
Something snapped in him. His control shattered, and he began to fuck you with an intensity that stole your breath. The bed shook with the force of his thrusts, and you could only hold on, lost in the pleasure of him claiming you so completely.
"This is what you do to me," he growled, his voice rough with need. "This is how crazy you make me. Watching that asshole try to touch you, try to take what's mine—" He thrust particularly hard, making you cry out. "You're mine. Say it."
"Yours!" you gasped, your body coiling tighter with each thrust. "I'm yours, Tony. Only yours."
"Damn right you are." His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and circling it with expert precision. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel you."
The combination of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you and his fingers on your clit was too much. Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, and you cried out his name, your body clenching around him.
"That's it," he groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Fuck, you're so beautiful when you come. So perfect."
He didn't slow down, didn't give you time to recover. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, pushing you toward another peak before you'd even come down from the first.
"I'm going to fill you up," he panted, his eyes locked on yours. "Going to come inside you, mark you from the inside out. Would you like that, baby? Want me to put a baby in you? Make sure everyone knows you're mine?"
"Yes!" The word was torn from your throat as another orgasm built inside you. "Yes, Tony, please. I want it. I want you. I want everything with you."
His thrusts became almost frantic, chasing his release. "Going to make you a mother. Going to watch you grow round with my child. Everyone will know then. Everyone will see that you're claimed, that you're loved, that you're mine."
"I love you," you gasped, your second orgasm hovering just out of reach. "I love you so much."
"I love you too," he groaned, and the raw emotion in his voice pushed you over the edge.
You came again, even harder than before, your body clamping down on him like a vice. Tony followed you over with a guttural moan, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself inside you, filling you with his release.
He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing hard, your bodies slick with sweat. After a moment, he rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were draped across his chest. His hand stroked up and down your back in soothing motions, a stark contrast to the fierce possession of moments before.
"I'm sorry," he murmured after a while, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I shouldn't have gotten so jealous. I know you weren't interested in him."
You propped yourself up on his chest, looking down at him. His hair was a mess, his lips swollen from kissing, and there was a vulnerability in his eyes that he only ever showed you.
"Don't apologize," you said softly, tracing the arc reactor with your finger. "I liked it. I like knowing that you want me that much. That you're as crazy about me as I am about you."
He caught your hand, bringing it to his lips. "I am crazy about you. Completely, utterly insane for you. And I meant what I said. All of it."
Your heart skipped a beat. "About...?"
"About wanting everyone to know you're mine. About wanting a future with you. Kids. Marriage. The whole nine yards." He cupped your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. "I know we said we wanted to keep this private, keep it in our bubble, but watching that guy tonight... I realized I don't want to hide anymore. I want the world to know that I'm the luckiest man alive because you chose me."
Tears pricked your eyes. "Tony..."
"Marry me," he said suddenly, his eyes intense on yours. "I don't have a ring right now - well, I do, I've had one for weeks, but it's in the workshop - but I can't wait anymore. Marry me. Be mine officially. Let me spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you."
"Yes," you breathed, tears spilling over. "Yes, of course yes."
He pulled you down into a kiss, this one soft and sweet and full of promise. When you finally broke apart, you were both smiling.
"I'm still going to mark you up," he said with a wicked grin, his hand sliding down to cup your ass. "I'm going to make sure everyone at the next gala knows exactly who you belong to."
You laughed, the sound full of joy. "I'm counting on it."
He rolled you onto your back again, settling between your thighs. You could feel him already hardening again, pressing against your entrance where his release was still leaking out of you.
"Round two?" you asked breathlessly.
"Round two," he confirmed, pushing inside you again with a groan. "And three. And four. I'm going to make love to you all night, future Mrs. Stark."
And he did. He took you again and again, each time a mixture of fierce possession and tender love. He marked your neck, your breasts, your thighs—anywhere that would be visible, anywhere that would show the world you were claimed. And each time he came inside you, he whispered promises of the future you'd build together.
By the time the sun rose over New York City, you were thoroughly marked, thoroughly loved, and thoroughly his. And as you lay in his arms, watching the golden light filter through the windows, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else.
"I love you," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest.
"I love you too," he murmured, his arms tightening around you. "My beautiful, perfect, mine."
And you were. Completely, utterly, irrevocably his. Just as he was yours.
The next morning, you woke to the smell of burning pancakes and Tony cursing in the kitchen. You smiled, pulling on one of his shirts, and padded out to find him frantically waving a towel at the smoke detector.
"I swear I was watching them this time," he said when he saw you, looking adorably flustered.
You wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. "It's okay. I love your burnt pancakes."
He turned in your arms, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of you - his shirt hanging off your shoulder, revealing the marks he'd left on your skin, your hair messy from sleep and sex, a satisfied smile on your face.
"Have I mentioned that I'm going to marry you?" he asked, cupping your face.
"Once or twice," you teased. "But I don't mind hearing it again."
"I'm going to marry you," he said seriously, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "And I'm going to spend every day for the rest of my life making sure you never regret saying yes."
"Impossible," you whispered. "Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."
He kissed you then, soft and sweet, and you tasted the promise of forever on his lips.
Later, when you finally made it into the office (wearing a strategically placed scarf that didn't quite hide all the marks), Pepper took one look at you and smiled knowingly.
"So," she said casually. "I take it the secret's out?"
You blushed, your hand instinctively going to the scarf. "How did you -"
"Please. I've known about you two for months. I'm just glad Tony finally got his head out of his ass and made it official." She glanced at your left hand, where a stunning engagement ring now sat - Tony had presented it to you over burnt pancakes, getting down on one knee in his kitchen and asking you again, properly this time. "Congratulations, by the way. He's lucky to have you."
"I'm lucky to have him," you said softly.
And you were. Lucky, loved, and completely, utterly his.
Something like Tony and Reader started dating recently, and she's always fantasized about having sex with him while he's in uniform, but she's too embarrassed to admit it… but he knows she has this desire just from the way she looks at him when he's wearing his uniform… and one day he asks her because she’s eating him with her eyes (we can’t blame her tho) and she ends up admitting it, and they have the most delicious night of sex of their lives, with Tony in uniform, of course 👀 and size kink 👀 belly bulge kink 👀 dirty talk 👀 and aftercare because we will need. I’m full of ideas for fics by the way 👀
Blue Line, Red Hot
Pairing: Police Officer Tony Stark x F!Reader
Warning/Rating: 18+; explicit, graphic sexual activity (manual/oral stimulation, penetration, orgasm described in detail), unprotected sex, language, uniform kink, size kink, dirty talk
Author Note: LOVE YOU!!!
Word Count: 4.7 K
The key turning in the lock makes your heart skip - a Pavlovian response you’ve developed over the past four months of dating Tony Stark. But it’s the particular click of his duty belt, the rustle of his uniform as he steps through the doorway, that sends heat pooling low in your belly.
“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice carries from the entryway, rich and warm like aged whiskey.
You look up from your laptop, and there he is. Office Tony Stark in full uniform: a crisp navy blue shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the badge glinting above his heat, utility belt sitting low on his narrow hips, and those pants that should be illegal for how well they hug his muscular thighs and scrumptious ass.
Your mouth goes dry.
“H-hey,” you manage, cursing internally at the breathiness in your voice. “How was your shift?”
Tony’s dark eyes lock onto yours, and that knowing smirk - the one that makes you want to simultaneously kiss him and hide - curves his lips. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, and you can see the way his biceps strain against the short sleeves of his uniform shirt.
“Uneventful,” he says, but he’s not really talking about work. His gaze is assessing, reading you like he always does. Like he can see straight through to every filthy thought racing through your mind. “You okay? You look a little… flushed.”
“I’m fine!” You say too quickly, snapping your attention back to your laptop screen. The words there might as well be hieroglphics for all you can focus on them.
You hear him chuckle, low and dark, and the sound goes straight between your thighs.
This has been happening more and more frequently. Every time Tony comes home in uniform, you become a mess of hormones and desperate want. You’ve tried to hide it - God, have you tried - but subtly has never been your strong suit, especially not when six-foot-one of pure masculine authority is standing in your living room looking like every fantasy you’ve ever had come to life.
The thing is, you and Tony are still relatively new. Four months of dating, three months of sleeping together, and while the sex has been incredible - mind-blowing, actually - you haven’t quite worked up the courage to tell him about this particular fantasy. It feels silly, almost cliche. The whole “hot cop” thing. You’re worried he’ll think it’s ridiculous, or worse, that he’ll feel objectified.
But the truth is, you’ve been fantasizing about him in that uniform since the first time you saw him in it, when he showed up to your friend’s party straight from work. You had taken one look at Office Stark and nearly swallowed your tongue.
“You sure you’re okay?” Tony’s voice is closer now, and you realize he’s crossed the room. He’s standing right beside the couch, looking down at you with those perceptive eyes that miss absolutely nothing.
“Mhmm,” you hum, not trusting your voice.
He reaches out, gently closing your laptop and setting it on the coffee table. Then he sits on the edge of the couch, angling his body toward you. The leather of his duty belt creaks slightly with the movement.
“Baby,” he says, and the endearment in that commanding voice makes you shiver. “You’ve been looking at me like you want to devour me since I walked in. Actually, you look at me like that every time I come home in uniform.”
Your cheeks instantly flame. “I don’t -”
“You do,” he interrupts, not unkindly. One hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your heated cheek. “And I gotta say, I’m curious about what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
You bite your lip, unable to meet his eyes.
“Hey,” his voice softens, and he ducks his head to catch your gaze. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”
And you do know that. Tony has been nothing but attentive and open since you started dating. He’s made it clear that communication is important to him, that he wants to know what you want, what you need, what you fantasize about.
Taking a shaky breath, you force yourself to meet his eyes. “It’s just… the uniform.”
His eyebrows rise slightly. “The uniform?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, feeling like your face might actually catch fire. “You look really… I mean, you’re always attractive, but when you’re in uniform, you’re just… God, Tony, you’re so fucking hot, and I can’t stop thinking about…”
You trail off, but his eyes have darkened, pupils dilating with interest.
“Thinking about what, sweetheart?” His voice has dropped an octave, taken on that edge of command that he uses on the job. It makes your thighs clench together involuntarily.
The words hang in the air between you for a moment, and you hold your breath, waiting for his reaction.
Then Tony grins - that devastating, confident grin that makes you fall for him in the first place. “Is that right?”
You nod, not trusting your voice.
“How long have you been thinking about this?” he asks, his hand sliding from your jaw down to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there in a possessive gesture that makes you gasp.
“Since… since the beginning,” you confess. “Since I first saw you in uniform.”
“Fuck,” he breathes, and you can see the effect your words have on him - the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes go molten. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“I was embarrassed,” you admit. “It seemed like such a cliche fantasy.”
Tony laughs, the sound rich and genuine. “Baby, I don’t give a fuck if it’s cliche. If it turns you on, I want to know about it.” His thumb strokes along your pulse point, and you know he can feel how fast your heart is racing. “So let me get this straight - you want me to fuck you while I’m in uniform?”
The crude words in his authoritative voice make you whimper, and you feel a fresh rush of wetness between your thighs. “Yes,” you breathe.
“What else?” he prompts, leaning closer until you can smell his cologne mixed with the leather of his duty belt and something uniquely him. “I can tell there’s more. Tell me everything you’ve been fantasizing about.”
You swallow hard, arousal and embarrassment warring within you. But the heat in his eyes, the clear desire written across his face - and the way you can see his cock straining against the front of his uniform pants - give you courage.
“I want… I want you to be a little rough. Commanding. Like you are at work.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “And I want… God, this is embarrassing…”
“Tell me,” he orders, and the authority in his voice makes your pussy clench around nothing. The decision is made for you.
“I love how much bigger you are than me,” you rushed out. “How your hands can almost wrap around my waist, how you can manhandle me however you want. I think about you holding me down, pinning me, using your strength on me. And I think about… about being able to see you inside me.”
Tony’s breathing has gone ragged, and you watch as he palms himself through his pants, adjusting the prominent bulge. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, his voice strained. “You’re going to kill me. My sweet girl has been thinking about getting railed by a cop his whole time?”
“Is that… is that okay?” you ask hesitantly, though the answer is written clearly in the way his pupils have blown wide, the way his chest is heaving.
Instead of answering with words, Tony stands abruptly and holds out his hand. “Bedroom. Now.”
Your stomach flips with anticipation as you take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. He immediately captures your mouth in a searing kiss, one hand fisting in your hair while the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise. You moan into his mouth, pressing against him, feeling the solid wall of his chest, the cool metal of his badge pressing into your breasts, the leather of his belt digging into your stomach, and the thick ridge of his erection against your belly.
He walks you backward toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss, his tongue dominating your mouth. You stumble slightly, and his arm immediately wraps around your waist, lifting you slightly off the ground as he carries you the rest of the way. You’re reminded once again of the sheer size difference between you - Tony is six-foot-one of solid muscle, and you feel delicate in his arms, feminine and small in a way that makes your core throb with need.
When you reach the bedroom, he finally breaks the kiss, both of you panting. His lips are swollen and wet, his hair mussed from your fingers, but he’s still fully dressed in that uniform that’s been haunting your dreams. The contrast makes you ache.
“Strip,” he commands, stepping back to watch you with those dark, hungry eyes. “Slowly. I want to watch.”
Your hands tremble as you pull off your t-shirt, revealing your bare breasts. The cool air makes your bipples peak immediately, and you hear Tony’s sharp intake of breath. You hook your thumbs in your leggings and underwear, shimmying them down your legs, bending at the waist to step out of them. When you straighten, you’re completely naked while he’s still fully clothed, and the dynamic makes you feel even more exposed, more vulnerable, more turned on than you’ve ever been.
Tony’s eyes rake over your body with undisguised hunger, lingering on your breasts, your hips, the apex of your thighs. “Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “So goddamn beautiful. So fucking perfect.”
He approaches slowly, predatory, and you resist the urge to cover yourself. When he reaches you, his hands come up to cup your breasts, his palms warm and calloused against your skin. You gasp at the sensation, arching into his touch.
“I’ve been thinking about this too, you know,” he says conversationally, as if he’s not currently rolling your nipples between his fingers, pinching and tugging until you whimper. “Every time I come home and see you looking at me like you want to climb me like a tree. I’ve been wondering what was going through your mind. What dirty thoughts were making you bite that pretty lip.”
“Tony,” you whimper, your hands coming up to grip his forearms, feeling the corded muscle beneath the uniform sleeves.
“And now I know,” he continues, one hand sliding down your stomach, over your hip, gripping your ass hard and pulling you flush against him. You can feel how hard he is, the thich length of him pressing insistently against your lower belly, and you realize with a thrill that he’s even bigger than usual - he’s rock hard and straining against his pants. “My girl wants to fucked by a cop. Wants to be manhandled and dominated and filled so full she can see it. Wants me to use this body however I want.”
“Please,” you breathe, not even sure what you’re begging for. Your pussy is throbbing, slick with arousal, and you can feel it starting to drip down your inner thighs.
He walks you backward until your legs hit the bed, then gives you a firm push that sends you sprawling onto the mattress. You grop yourself up on your elbows, watching as he stands at the foot of the bed, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes. His gaze is predatory, possessive, and it makes you shiver.
“Spread your legs,” he orders, his voice dropping into that authoritative tone that goes straight to your core. “Let me see how wet you are. Let's see that pretty pussy.”
Face burning, you obey, letting your thighs fall open. You know you’re soaked - you have been since he walked through the door - and the way his eyes zero in on your pussy, the way his jaw clenches and his hands curl into fists, confirms that he can see exactly how aroused you are. You can feel how swollen you are, your lips puffy and glistening, your clit already throbbing.
“Fuck,” he breathes, and his voice is reverent. “You’re dripping, sweetheart. Look at you - your pussy is so wet it’s shining. All this just from seeing me in uniform?”
You nod, unable to form words, your cheeks flaming with embarrassment and arousal.
He reaches down to adjust himself, palming his erection through his pants with a low groan, and the sight makes you moan. You can see the outline of him clearly now - thick and long, straining against the fabric. “Touch yourself,” he commands, his eyes locked on your spread pussy. “Show me what you do when you’re alone, thinking about me. Show me how you touch yourself when you’re fantasizing about getting fucked by a cop.”
Your hand slides down your body, trembling, and you circle your clit with your fingers, gasping at the contact. You’re so sensitive, so turned on, that even your own touch feels electric. You never break eye contact with him, watching as his pupils dilate further, as his breathing gets heavier.
“That’s it,” he encourages, his voice rough and strained. “Good girl. Rub that clit for me. Get yourself nice and ready for my cock.”
You whimper at the praise, your fingers moving faster, dipping down to gather your wetness before returning to your clit. You’re so slick that your fingers glide easily, and you can hear the wet sounds your movements make. The knowledge that he’s watching, that he can see everything, makes you even wetter.
“Put your fingers inside,” he orders. “Let me see you fuck yourself.”
You obey immediately, sliding two fingers into your pussy with a moan. You’re so wet that they slip in easily, but you’re tight, and you can feel your walls clenching around your own fingers. You pump them in and out, curling them to hit that spot inside that makes you gasp.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Tony groans, and you can see him palming himself harder through his pants. “But your fingers are so small, baby. You’re going to need more than that to be ready for my cock.”
You’re so turned on that it won’t take much to push you over the edge, but you don’t want to come yet - not without him inside you.
As if reading your mind, Tony finally moves, climbing onto the bed with predatory grace. He bats your hand away, replacing your fingers with his own. “My turn,” he says, and then his fingers are on you, sliding through your wetness, circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure.
“Oh God,” you gasp, your hips bucking up into his touch. “Tony, please -”
“So responsive,” he murmurs appreciatively, his eyes fixed on where his fingers are working you. “So fucking wet. I can feel how swollen you are, baby. Your clit is throbbing under my fingers.” Then he slides two thick fingers inside you, and the stretch makes you cry out in pure pleasure. His fingers are so much bigger than yours, and you feel yourself stretching around them. “And so fucking tight. Jesus, you’re gripping my fingers. I don’t know how you take my cock, baby. You’re so small, so tight. I can barely fit two fingers in this tight little pussy.”
The dirty talk combined with his fingers curling inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars, has you racing toward orgasm embarrassingly fast. He pumps his fingers in and out, and you can hear how wet you are, the obscene squelching sounds filling the room.
“Tony, I’m gonna -” you gasp, your inner walls starting to flutter around his fingers.
“Not yet,” he says firmly, withdrawing his fingers. You whine at the loss, your pussy clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled again. But then he’s bringing those fingers to his mouth, and you watch, mesmerized, as he sucks them clean, his eyes closing in pleasure. “Delicious,” he pronounces, his voice rough. “You taste so fucking good. Sweet and tangy. I could eat this pussy for hours.” Then his eyes open, dark and hungry. “But I want you to come on my cock. Want to feel you squeeze me when you fall apart.”
He stands up just long enough to unbuckle his duty belt, the leather creaking, the metal jingling. He sets it carefully on the nightstand - within reach, you notice with a thrill. Then he’s unzipping his pants, the sound loud in the quiet room, and pushing them down just enough to free his cock.
The sight of him makes your mouth water and your pussy clench. He’s still mostly uniformed - shirt still crisp and tucked in, badge still gleaming above his heart, pants just pushed down enough - but his thick, hard cock is jutting out, flushed dark and angry-looking, the head already glistening with precum. He's big, so much bigger than anyone you've been with before, thick enough that you know you'll feel the stretch, long enough that he always hits places inside you that make you see stars. The size difference between his cock and your body has always been a source of secret pleasure for you, and seeing it now, seeing how massive he looks, makes you whimper with need.
Tony catches you staring and smirks, wrapping his hand around himself. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”
You laugh breathlessly, unable to tear your eyes away. “So much. You’re so big, Tony. So thick.”
He strokes himself slowly, and you watch, mesmerized, as his hand moves over his length, the leather dark with your wetness still coating it. His cock is beautiful - thich and veined, the head flared and leaking. “You ready for me, sweetheart? Ready for me to fill up this tight little pussy?”
“Yes,” you breathe, spreading your legs wider in invitation. “Please, Tony. I need you inside me.”
He climbs back onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs. The rough fabric of his uniform pants scratches against your sensitive inner thighs, and the contrast between his fully-clothed body and your nakedness makes you shudder. You can feel the cool metal of his badge against your heated skin, the leather of his belt, the stiff fabric of his shirt.
“Look at me,” he commands, and you drag your eyes up to meet his. His gaze is intense, burning, and you feel pinned by it. “I want to watch your face when I fill you up. Want to see your eyes when you take my cock.”
He lines himself up, and you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, hot and hard. Then he’s pushing in slowly, so slowly, and you gasp at the stretch. He’s so thick that even with how wet you are, even with how he prepared you, you feel yourself stretching impossibly wide around him. The burn is intense, bordering on too much, but it feels so good that you moan.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out, his jaw clenched with the effort of going slow. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place. “So fucking tight. Your pussy is squeezing me so hard, baby. Feels like you’re trying to strangle my cock.”
“More,” you manage, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath the uniform shirt. “Please, Tony, more. I can take it.”
He pushes in further, inch by inch, and you can feel every ridge, every vein, the way he’s stretching you open. Your pussy is fluttering around him, trying to accommodate his size, and the sensation is overwhelming. When he’s finally fully seated inside you, buried to the hilt, you both groan. You feel impossibly full, stretched to your limit, and you can feel him throbbing inside you.
“Look,” he says roughly, and you glance down between your bodies. You moan at the sensation of him so deep inside you, and the sight makes you moan loudly. “God, you feel incredible,” he groans. “So tight around me. So perfect.”
“Yes,” you whimper, reaching down with a trembling hand to grip his back. The sensation makes you both gasp - you can feel him even more intensely, and he groans like he’s in pain. “Oh God, Tony, I can feel you. You’re so deep. So big.”
“Fuck, don’t do that,” he warns, his voice strained. “I’m trying to last here, and you’re not making it easy. Your pussy is so tight and hot, and feeling you press on my cock like that - Jesus.”
He starts to move then, pulling almost all the way out - and you whimper at the drag of his cock against your sensitive walls, at the way you can feel every inch of him - before sliding back in with one smooth thrust. The sensation is exquisite, overwhelming, and you cry out. You wrap your legs around his waist, your ankles locking at the small of his back, trying to pull him deeper, and he chuckles darkly.
“Greedy girl,” he murmurs, but he gives you what you want, snapping his hips forward hard enough to make you cry out. “This what you wanted? Wanted me to fuck you in my uniform? Wanted to be split open on a cop’s cock?”
“Yes!” you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Yes, God, Tony, yes!”
He sets a punishing pace, each thrust driving you up the bed, and you’re grateful for his strength as his hands grip your hips, holding you in place. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with your moans and his grunts of effort.
“So fucking perfect,” he pants, one hand sliding up to wrap loosely around your throat - not squeezing, just holding, a reminder of his control. “Taking me so well. Look at you, so small and delicate, and you’re taking every inch of my cock like you were made for it.”
The praise mixed with the filthy words makes you clench around him, and he groans. “That’s it, squeeze my cock. Fuck, you feel incredible.”
You’re babbling now, incoherent pleas and his name and yes, yes, yes, as he pounds into you. Every thrust sends a wave of pleasure through you, racing closer and closer to the edge.
“Touch yourself,” he orders breathlessly. “Want to feel you come on my cock.”
Your hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit, and the added stimulation makes you cry out. You’re so close, teetering on the edge, and when Tony shifts his angle slightly, hitting that perfect spot inside you, you shatter.
Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your body convulsing, inner walls clamping down on his cock like a vice. You’re vaguely aware of screaming his name, of your nails raking down his back, of the way he groans and curses above you.
“Fuck, fuck, that’s it,” he chants, his rhythm faltering. “Gonna come, baby. Gonna fill you up. You want that? Want me to come inside you?”
“Please,” you sob, oversensitive but not wanting him to stop. “Please, Tony, come in me.”
He thrusts hard once, twice more, and then he’s coming with a guttural moan, his hips jerking as he empties himself inside you. You can feel the warmth of it, the way it makes you even fuller, and you whimper at the sensation.
Tony collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you with his full weight, and you both lie there panting, trying to catch your breath. His face is buried in your neck, and you can feel his heart hammering against your chest.
After a long moment, he lifts his head to look at you, and his expression is soft, tender. “You okay?” he asks quietly, brushing sweaty hair back from your forehead.
“More than okay,” you assure him, smiling. “That was… God, Tony, that was incredible.”
He grins, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Yeah, it really was.” Then, more seriously. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? I got a little carried away.”
“No,” you say quietly. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”
He carefully pulls out, and you both wince at the sensitivity. You can feel his come starting to leak out of you, and the messy intimacy of it makes you blush.
"Stay here," Tony says, pressing another kiss to your forehead before climbing off the bed. You hear him moving around, the sound of water running in the bathroom, and then he's back with a warm washcloth.
"Let me take care of you," he murmurs, gently cleaning between your legs. His touch is tender now, careful, and the contrast between this gentle Tony and the commanding officer from moments ago makes your heart swell.
When he's satisfied that you're clean, he disappears again, and you hear him finally removing his uniform. He returns in just his boxer briefs, carrying a glass of water.
"Drink," he instructs, helping you sit up and holding the glass to your lips. You obey, suddenly realizing how thirsty you are, and drain half the glass before pulling away.
Tony sets the water on the nightstand and climbs into bed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. You curl into his chest, your head resting over his heart, and his arms wrap around you securely.
"So," he says after a moment, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "That was your fantasy, huh?"
You laugh, hiding your face against his chest. "Don't tease me."
"I'm not teasing," he assures you, his hand stroking up and down your back soothingly. "I'm just thinking about all the other fantasies you might be hiding from me."
You pull back to look at him, finding his expression open and curious. "You really want to know?"
"Baby, I want to know everything," he says seriously. "Every fantasy, every desire, every dirty thought that crosses your mind. I want to make them all come true."
Your heart does a little flip in your chest. "Even if they're ridiculous?"
"Especially if they're ridiculous," he says, grinning. "Although I gotta say, wanting to fuck a cop is pretty tame as far as fantasies go."
You swat his chest playfully. "It's not just any cop. It's you. You in that uniform, all authoritative and commanding and sexy."
"Mmm," he hums, pulling you closer. "Well, lucky for you, I have to wear this uniform five days a week. So anytime you want a repeat performance..."
"Careful," you warn. "I might take you up on that every single day."
"Promise?" he asks, and the heat in his eyes suggests he's not entirely joking.
You laugh, snuggling back into his embrace. "I love you," you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
You feel Tony go still beneath you, and your heart stops. It's too soon, you think frantically. You've only been dating four months, and now you've gone and—
"I love you too," he says quietly, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "Have for a while now, actually. Just been waiting for the right moment to tell you."
You pull back to look at him, finding his expression soft and sincere. "Really?"
"Really," he confirms, cupping your face and kissing you sweetly. "My girl with her cop fantasy and her dirty mind and her beautiful heart. Yeah, I love you."
Tears prick at your eyes, but they're happy tears. You kiss him again, pouring all your emotion into it, and when you finally pull away, you're both smiling.
"So," you say, settling back against his chest. "About those other fantasies..."
Tony laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Oh, we're doing this now?"
"Well, you said you wanted to know everything," you point out.
"That I did," he agrees, his hand resuming its soothing motion up and down your back. "Alright, sweetheart. Tell me everything. We've got all night."
And so you do, trading whispered confessions and fantasies in the darkness, his arms wrapped securely around you, both of you already planning the next time he comes home in uniform.
Because now that you've admitted your desire, now that you've experienced the reality of your fantasy, you know one thing for certain: you're never going to be able to look at Officer Tony Stark in his uniform the same way again.
Main Masterlist | Robert Downey Jr Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Hank Palmer Masterlist | Nathan Gardner Masterlist
A/N: This piece is soo wholesome
Content Warnings: None. This is pure fluff with themes of family, love, and emotional bonding. No smut, violence, or triggers.
Taglist is open (Tagging my favourites/regulars for now)
Just two years ago, life felt like a whirlwind of challenges and quiet triumphs. You were a single mother to your son, Steven, who was only five at the time. His father had vanished from the picture completely, and honestly, you were relieved. The man had been abusive, leaving scars that ran deeper than the surface, but you had built a wall of strength around you and Steven. Every day was about survival and joy—grocery runs, playground chases, and bedtime stories that made his little eyes sparkle. You were happy in your independence, even if it meant juggling everything alone.
Then came that random, chaotic day that changed everything. You were at the bustling outdoor market, arms loaded with too many grocery bags—milk, bread, fruits teetering precariously as you tried to keep them from spilling. Steven, ever the bundle of energy, spotted something shiny across the street and bolted without a second thought. 'Steven, wait!' you called, heart pounding as you dropped a few bags and dashed after him, weaving through the crowd.
In your haste, you collided straight into a solid chest. Groceries flew everywhere—oranges rolling across the pavement, a carton of eggs cracking open. You stumbled back, apologizing profusely, only to look up and meet the eyes of Tony Stark. The Tony Stark—billionaire, genius, playboy philanthropist. He was dressed casually, but there was no mistaking that signature goatee and the arc reactor glow faintly visible under his shirt.
Before you could even process the embarrassment, Tony's gaze flicked past you. He had seen the whole thing—the little boy darting away. 'Happy!' he barked into his earpiece, his voice calm but authoritative. 'Kid just took off down the block. Black hair, about five. Grab him before he becomes a statistic.' You watched in stunned silence as a burly man—Happy, you assumed—nodded from a nearby car and jogged off in pursuit.
Tony turned back to you, crouching down to help gather the scattered items. His hands were quick and efficient, picking up the unbroken eggs and the wayward oranges with a surprising gentleness. 'You okay?' he asked, his brown eyes meeting yours with genuine concern. 'That was some sprint. Kid's got speed—future track star?'
You nodded, breathless, brushing dirt off a bag of apples. 'He's... adventurous. Thank you. I didn't mean to—'
'Tony Stark,' he interrupted smoothly, standing and offering a hand to help you up. 'And no apologies needed. Happens to the best of us.' As Happy returned moments later, Steven in tow and looking sheepish with a toy car clutched in his fist, Tony smiled at the boy. 'Hey, sport. Next time, wait for backup, yeah?'
Steven stared up at him wide-eyed, recognizing the famous face from cartoons and news clips. You thanked them both profusely, and as you finally balanced your bags again, Tony pulled a sleek business card from his wallet. 'If you ever need work—steady gig, good pay—give me a call. Stark Industries could use more people with your kind of determination.' He winked, and just like that, he was gone, striding back to his car with Happy.
You didn't call right away. But weeks later, with bills piling up, you did. What started as a job interview turned into something more—a friendship, then dates, then love. Tony was nothing like your ex; he was witty, protective, and surprisingly patient with Steven's endless questions about robots and suits. Two years flew by in a blur of shared dinners, late-night talks, and family outings. Now, Steven was seven, taller and chattier, and he had grown so fond of Tony. The man who once chased down a runaway kid was now the one who built forts in the living room and taught Steven basic coding on his tablet. And soon, Tony would be your husband—a dream you never dared to imagine back in that grocery spill chaos.
Today started like any other, but with a twist. Tony woke early, earlier than usual, pressing a kiss to your forehead as the sun barely peeked through the curtains. 'Got some work to handle at the tower,' he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. 'Won't be too late. Love you.' He ruffled Steven's hair on his way out, promising pancakes when he got back. You watched him go, waving from the doorway with Steven still in his pajamas, oblivious to the slight furrow in Tony's brow.
The day dragged on sweetly—school drop-off, your work-from-home tasks, picking Steven up with stories of his science project. By late afternoon, you were in the kitchen, prepping dinner, when your phone buzzed. It was Tony. His tone was serious, almost clipped, nothing like his usual playful banter. 'Hey, I'm on my way back. Be there in twenty. Need to talk to you and Steven. Both of you.'
Your stomach twisted. 'Everything okay? Did something happen?'
'It's fine. Just... important. See you soon.' The line went dead, leaving you staring at the phone. You turned to Steven, who was coloring at the table. 'Hey, buddy, did you do something mischievous today? Break something at school?'
He looked up, crayons paused, his big eyes innocent. 'No, Mom. I was good. Promise.'
You forced a smile, but worry gnawed at you. What could be so serious? Had work gone wrong? Some Iron Man crisis? The minutes ticked by agonizingly until the front door clicked open at exactly 5:15.
Tony stepped in, suit jacket slung over his arm, tie loosened. He looked... happy? But nervous too, his usual confident stride replaced by pacing as he entered the living room. Back and forth, hands in his pockets, then out, running through his hair. You and Steven exchanged glances from the couch, where you'd settled with snacks to wait.
'Honey, what happened?' you asked, standing and approaching him. Your voice was soft, laced with concern.
He stopped pacing, exhaling deeply, and turned to Steven. 'Hey, Steven, buddy. Come here.' His voice cracked just a little as the boy hopped off the couch and toddled over. Tony dropped to one knee, pulling Steven into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around the child's small frame like he was anchoring himself. He held on for a long moment, then pulled back just enough to look into Steven's eyes. 'How would you like it to be my son? For real. Officially.'
Tears glistened in Tony's eyes, unashamed, as he waited. The room went still, the weight of the words hanging in the air.
You didn't even realize when the tears started streaming down your own cheeks. Your hand flew to your mouth, a sob escaping as the emotion hit you like a wave. This man—the one who'd picked up your spilled groceries, who'd won over your son with patience and gadgets—was offering everything you'd dreamed of in quiet moments. A family, whole and unbreakable.
Steven's face lit up, his own eyes widening in surprise before filling with joy. He threw his arms around Tony's neck again. 'Tony... does this mean I can call you dad?' His voice was small but fierce, the question tumbling out like a long-held secret.
That did it. Fresh tears poured from you, your vision blurring as you sank to your knees beside them. Tony's gaze met yours over Steven's shoulder, his eyes shining with the same overwhelming love. He reached out, pulling you into the hug with his free arm, enveloping you both. The three of you clung together, a tangle of limbs and sniffles, the living room filled with the soft sounds of happiness.
Steven was the first to break away, bouncing on his toes with uncontainable excitement. He grabbed your hands, then Tony's, pulling you both up. 'Mom! I have a dad! Tony is my dad!' He danced around the room, spinning in circles, his laughter echoing off the walls like music. 'Dad! Dad! Dad!'
Tony laughed through his tears, scooping Steven up and twirling him once before setting him down. 'Yeah, kiddo. I am your Dad.' He turned to you, cupping your face gently, thumbs brushing away your tears, kissing you. 'And soon, you'll be my wife. You both are mine.'
You nodded, words failing as you leaned into him, Steven wedged happily between you. In that moment, the chaos of two years ago felt like a distant memory, replaced by this perfect, heartwarming reality. Your little family, complete at last.
Main Masterlist | Robert Downey Jr Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Hank Palmer Masterlist | Nathan Gardner Masterlist
A/N: The angst is unreal. Just a small request I was not in a mood to add more hashtags if at all you are reblogging could you add some more... TIA
Content Warnings: This story contains depictions of violence, accidental injury, emotional trauma, guilt, destruction of property, and references to past events involving brainwashing and murder. It focuses on angst and emotional reconciliation with no explicit content.
The air in the Avengers facility was thick with tension, the kind that clung to your skin like a second layer of regret. Civil War had fractured everything—friendships, alliances, trust. But nothing prepared you for the moment Tony learned the truth about Bucky Barnes. It was late one night in the lab, screens flickering with old footage from the Winter Soldier's rampage. Howard and Maria Stark's names flashed across the display, and Tony's face twisted into something feral, something unrecognizable.
"Barnes," he growled, his voice low and venomous, fists clenching at his sides. The Iron Man suit hummed faintly in the corner, as if sensing his rage. He paced like a caged animal, eyes wild, ignoring the world around him.
You had been there, trying to reach him. As his wife, Y/N, you'd seen Tony at his lowest before—after battles, after losses—but this was different. This was raw, unfiltered hatred boiling over. "Tony, please," you said softly, stepping closer, your hand reaching for his arm. "We need to talk about this. Bucky... he wasn't in control. It's not that simple."
But it was like talking to a wall. He shrugged you off, not harshly, but dismissively, his mind already miles away, plotting vengeance. "Not now, Y/N. Just... not now." His voice cracked at the edges, but the wall was up, impenetrable. You sighed, retreating to the doorway, watching as he dove back into his work, the glow of holograms casting shadows on his haunted face. Sleep evaded him that night, and the next, his obsession growing like a storm cloud.
Days blurred into a chaotic standoff. The fight erupted in the facility's main hall, accusations flying like bullets. Steve Rogers, your best friend since you'd joined the team, stood firm with Bucky at his side. Sam Wilson—Falcon—hovered nearby, wings retracted but ready. Tony, suited up, faced them down, repulsors charging with a whine that echoed your growing dread.
"You knew, Steve! You knew what he did to my parents!" Tony's voice boomed through the suit's speakers, distorted and furious. The room shook as energy blasts lit up the space.
You positioned yourself between them, hands raised, desperate to de-escalate. "Stop! All of you, this isn't helping! Tony, look at me—"
But chaos reigned. Tony fired a repulsor blast aimed at Sam, who dodged with a swift flap of his wings. The beam veered just enough—perhaps from Tony's unsteady aim, fueled by rage and exhaustion—and struck you square in the side. Pain exploded through your body, white-hot and unrelenting. The world tilted, your vision blurring as you crumpled to the floor, blood seeping from the wound.
"Y/N!" Tony's shout pierced the din, his suit powering down with a mechanical sigh. He rushed to your side, helmet retracting to reveal wide, panicked eyes. His gauntleted hands hovered over you, afraid to touch. Your pulse was thready under his trembling fingers, faint and erratic. "No, no, no—stay with me, honey. Please."
Steve was there in an instant, his face pale as he dropped to his knees beside you. Blood pooled on the floor, stark against the sterile tiles. Tony was frozen, staring at the damage he'd caused, his world narrowing to the woman he loved bleeding out because of him. "Tony! Snap out of it! We need to get her to medbay—now!" Steve's voice was sharp, his hand gripping Tony's shoulder, jolting him back to reality.
That shock propelled Tony into action. He scooped you up carefully, your head lolling against his chest plate, and sprinted toward the medbay, Steve and Sam trailing behind. Alarms blared as the doors hissed open, medical staff swarming like bees to a hive.
In the medbay, chaos reigned under fluorescent lights. Doctors and nurses worked frantically—stabilizing the wound, administering fluids, monitoring vitals. The blast had cauterized much of the injury, but internal damage was severe: ruptured organs, blood loss, shock. "We need to induce a medical coma," the lead doctor said, her voice steady but urgent. "It'll give her body time to heal without the stress of consciousness."
Tony nodded numbly from the corner, suit discarded, still in his undersuit stained with your blood. He watched as they administered the drugs, your eyelids fluttering shut for what felt like the final time. The steady beep of the machines became his lifeline, a cruel reminder of the fragility he'd shattered.
Guilt consumed him like acid. Tony couldn't handle it—the weight of what he'd done pressing down until he could barely breathe. Sleep was a distant memory; nights blurred into days as he paced the halls, avoiding the medbay like a plague. He couldn't face you, not like this, tubes and monitors mocking his failure as a husband, as a man. The lab, once his sanctuary, now felt like a tomb, filled with the ghosts of his parents' murder and his own recklessness.
One night, after three too many glasses of scotch—liquid fire burning away the edges of his pain—Tony snapped. The bottle clinked against the workbench as he grabbed a hammer from a nearby tool rack, its weight familiar in his hand. "This... this is all wrong," he muttered, voice slurred with alcohol and anguish. He swung at the first console, sparks flying as glass shattered. Holographic projectors sparked and died under repeated blows, tools scattering across the floor. He tore into servers, ripped wires from walls, the destruction a cathartic roar against the silence of his guilt. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with tears he refused to acknowledge, the lab crumbling around him like his resolve.
Meanwhile, in the medbay, the drugs wore off slowly. Your eyes fluttered open to the soft hum of machines, disorientation giving way to a dull ache in your side. The nurse, a kind-faced woman named Clara, was at your bedside in moments. "Mrs. Stark? You're awake. How do you feel?"
"Tony... where's Tony?" Your voice was hoarse, weak, but insistent. The room spun slightly as you tried to sit up.
Clara's expression softened with pity. "He hasn't come by, ma'am. Not since... well, you know. We've been monitoring him, but he's been distant."
You knew your husband too well. Guilt was his shadow, and this would drown him. "I need to go to him. Wheelchair—please." Despite protests, you insisted, Clara helping you into the chair, your bandaged side protesting every movement. The facility's upper floors were quiet as she wheeled you toward your shared level, the elevator ride a tense ascent.
A distant crash echoed through the halls—metal on metal, destruction. "That's him," you whispered, heart clenching. "Leave me here, Clara. I need to do this alone."
She nodded reluctantly, wheeling you to the lab's corridor before departing. Gripping the wheels, you pushed forward, the chair creaking softly. The doors to the lab were ajar, and the sight inside stopped your breath: devastation. Consoles smashed, screens cracked, debris littering the floor like battlefield remnants. In the center, Tony swung the hammer again, back to you, oblivious in his frenzy.
"Tony!" you called, voice echoing weakly.
He didn't hear, lost in his rage. Determination surged through you; you couldn't let him spiral alone. Pushing up from the chair with gritted teeth, your legs trembled under the strain. One step, two—your body weak from the coma, vision blurring—but you pressed on, toward the sounds of his breaking.
On the third step, weakness crashed over you like a wave. Your knees buckled, the floor rushing up. But strong arms caught you before you hit, pulling you close. Tony's hammer clattered away as he held you upright, his body shaking.
"Y/N?" His voice broke, tears streaming down his face as he cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. He searched your eyes, disbelief warring with relief. "You're... you're real. Oh God, you're okay. Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean— I aimed for Sam, but you... I hurt you. I almost killed you. How can you ever forgive—"
You leaned into his touch, hand covering his on your face, steadying him as much as yourself. "Shh, Tony. I'm here. I'm okay. It was an accident. I don't blame you—not for a second. You were angry, hurting, but that doesn't make you a monster."
He sank to his knees, pulling you down with him gently onto the debris-strewn floor, cradling you like something precious. Sobs wracked his frame, the feral man reduced to vulnerability. "My parents... Barnes.... I can't— I hurt you."
"Listen to me," you interrupted softly, fingers threading through his hair, grounding him. "Bucky didn't choose what he did. He was brainwashed, Tony—HYDRA stripped him of everything, turned him into a weapon. Steve saw it, fought for him because he knows the man Bucky really is. Your parents' death... it's a tragedy, but blaming him won't bring them back. It won't heal you. We can find a way through this—together. I love you, Tony Stark, flaws and all. And I need you to forgive yourself, for me."
He pulled back slightly, eyes red-rimmed, searching yours for truth. The weight of your words settled over him, cracking the wall he'd built. "I don't deserve you," he whispered, but his hold tightened, a flicker of hope in the anguish.
"You do," you replied, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "We're in this mess together. Now, help me up, genius. We have a lot to fix—not just the lab."
Tony managed a watery laugh, the first crack of light in the storm. He helped you back to the wheelchair, then knelt to gather the pieces of his shattered world, starting with the man before him.
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