#young tony stark request | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scarletmika · 14 days ago

Text

Destiny or Not : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x Witch!Reader

Summary: As The Darkhold foretold Wanda Maximoff's destiny, The Book of Vishanti foretold your own. You just didn't know how much of that destiny was intertwined with Bob Reynolds, until the day you met him in the vault.

Warnings: fluff, suggestive but NOT explicit, soulmate-ish trope, TOTAL idiots in love, SPOILERS I guess for Thunderbolts*, feminine description of reader, it's Bob (implied mental illness there)

Word Count: 3,015 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here A/N: A request involving a "soulmate" type connection that I can easily turn into a witch reader? I'm sold. Shout-out to my friend Junie for the extra revisions on this one!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

It had started randomly one night. Months after Tony Stark had sacrificed himself to save the world, after you and billions of others had been brought back from the blip. After your mentor had accidentally enslaved an entire town out of grief, after she’d let the power of the Darkhold consume her. When you looked Wanda Maximoff in the eyes as she held The Book of Vishanti in her hands and destroyed it. After you’d tried desperately to save her from herself that day on Mount Wundagore and failed.

Back in your apartment that night, you’d cried for the loss of your mentor, until there was a flicker of red magic across the room. Sat at your desk was The Book of Vishanti, lying there in tact, with a simple note scrawled in Wanda’s handwriting.

I’m sorry for everything. Your destiny lies here, but sometimes knowing is worse than not. It’s in your hands, now.

You’d elected to never look, to never see your destiny, but almost every night from the moment you touched that book on, you dreamed of him. The man with soft brown hair, blue eyes that seemed to peer into your soul, and powers unlike anything you’d ever seen.

The first night you’d awoken in your dream, you were lying in bed beside the man. He peered at you, reaching out with his hand hesitantly to cup your cheek, as if afraid that you would run away.

“You’re allowed to touch me, you know?” you’d teased him, your grin only growing at the faint blush that quickly spread across his cheeks.

“You…you make me nervous,” he’d muttered back to you in embarrassment. Your hand had found its place resting against his bare chest, against the skin that you’d come to learn ran unusually hot, and you felt his heart rate quicken.

“Good, because you make me nervous too,”

You’d kissed in that dream, that dream that felt all too real at times. It felt like deja vu as you kissed the man before you, but it couldn’t be. You’d never met him before, and you’d certainly never been kissed before. Being thrust into work with the Avengers from a young age, being taken under the wing of a witch that barely understood what she was herself, it hadn’t lent itself to many romantic moments over time.

When the kiss had ended, your dream self had flipped over, the man’s unusually warm body pressing to your back as the pair of you drifted off to sleep in one another’s arms. But the sight before you, the room you could see, you knew it: it was the former Avengers tower in New York, you knew it for sure.

The dreams continued for almost two years. Sometimes you dreamed of him every night of the week, sometimes just once or twice, but no two dreams were ever the same.

Some of them were sweet, just like the first one. You were in the former Avengers tower, which you knew for certain. But there were always people around you, like Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers' old best friend. Or a girl you’d only ever heard in stories, Yelena Belova, the younger sister of the Black Widow. There were movie nights shared between you all, there were private picnics on the terrace of the tower with just you and your mystery man with the shaggy brown hair, anything you could imagine.

Then, there were the ones ingrained in fighting. Battles waged, so many that you couldn’t keep track. In some, you didn’t seem to be any older than you currently were, while in others, you seemed to be much, much older than now. In every single one, you fought at the man’s side, the Witch and who they called the Sentry, an unstoppable duo that was feared and respected across the world and the galaxy.

The steamy ones were the ones that had you waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, desperate to take a cold shower and relieve yourself of the feelings you hadn’t ever felt before. There weren’t many of you and the man when you were young, but the times there were, it was like watching two inexperienced idiots fumble around the room together. He’d lifted you up onto the counter of the tower’s kitchen once, underestimating his strength and slamming your head off the cupboard behind you. You’d laughed it off as he apologized profusely, both of you flushing red as Bucky walked into the kitchen with a simple shake of his head. There was another one that stuck vividly in your mind as you’d randomly pulled him into your bedroom one day, trying so desperately to undress yourself that you’d managed to fall flat on your face on the floor.

The steamier dreams where you’re older…those were ones you tried not to think about. Those brought heat to your cheeks immediately.

The problem was, in all of these dreams, you’d never learned his name. It was like anytime someone tried to say his name, it ended up censored, so you would never know. You had nothing to go on to learn if this man was even real.

It wasn’t until, through contacts that you’d gained from your connection with the former Avengers team, that you’d gotten your lead. There were rumblings of Valentina Allegra De Fontaine working on her version of a serum that could create the ultimate superhero: The Sentry Project.

You knew you couldn’t be mistaken; that was him. The fluffy brown hair you’d spent your downtime playing with and running your fingers through, the arms you’d spent countless dreams entwined in, and those soft brown puppy-dog eyes you couldn’t forget. It was the man from your dreams.

Under the guise of “working for Valentina,” you’d been trying your hardest to find out more about the Sentry project, but it was a secret that Valentina kept closely under wraps. You’d never gotten the training from Wanda and the Avengers that you truly needed, though, and you wore your heart on your sleeve. It didn’t take long for Valentina to learn that you were trying to learn more about her secret project, which is why she knew she had to send you into the Vault that day.

There were three guns pointed at you, and then back at each other, before back at you. You’d settled for just your hands and your magic, forgoing any weapons, as wisps of magic danced around your fingers.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt any of you,” you’d nervously laughed, looking between the three in front of you. As your fighting ceased, it slowly dawned on you that standing before you was Yelena Belova, along with two people who had been in the background of so many of your dreams over the years. It was Yelena that cocked a gun in your direction.

“We’re all here to kill each other, so that doesn’t make much sense.”

“I-I don’t want to kill anyone!” you tried to reason with her, stuttering over your words for a moment as you waved your hands around, magic dancing through the air with them. “Look, it’s so complicated, but I don’t even want to be here! I-I just want to find out about Project Sentry-”

The man with the shield turned his gun on you next with a laugh.

“Project Sentry, huh? Sounds like some classified information someone would be sneaking in here to steal,”

You’d fumbled for a minute, unsure how to go forward now that there were multiple guns trained on you, and your magic flickered for a second as you faltered. You’d all spun on your heels toward the door, though, as the sound of another person coughing sounded across the room.

The man had barely crawled across the floor, hadn’t even looked up yet, but you could feel him. Like a tug on your soul, you could almost feel everything about him. And the second he looked up, his eyes locking with yours as his fidgeting with his clothing ceased, your breath caught in your throat.

“W-whoa…” he’d stuttered out, eyes wide as he pointed a finger in your direction, the other three mercenaries in the room simply watching in silence and confusion. “It’s…it’s you! From my dreams!”

Your hands dropped almost instantly as you let out the breath you’d been holding.

“Oh my god…you’re real,”

The name you’d wondered about for two years now was so simple, yet so him: Bob. You wished your first time meeting him had gone smoothly, that the next few days would have been simple, but they were anything but. There were moments scattered throughout that you’d dreamt of before, and he had too. When you’d protected him in the hallway trying to escape from the vault and Valentina’s team, when you’d refused to fight him at the top of the former Avengers Tower, or when you’d chased him through the Void, promising to be by his side and to help save him from himself.

Now, months had passed, and for the second time in your life, you were an Avenger again, but this time with a new team and no mentor to show you the ropes. Your new team, your friends, were sick and tired of you, though, because all you and Bob did was dance around one another.

You’d confided in Yelena and Bucky your dreams, the pull on your soul, and the connection you knew you had to Bob buried deep inside you, while Bob had confessed the same to John and Ava (though his confession was more coerced out of him than freely given). But for the most part, you danced around one another.

It was infuriating to see the way you and Bob were attached at the hip, but neither of you was able to admit anything to one another. Accidental hand brushes almost every day, matching blushing cheeks, and your inability to talk to one another without stumbling over your words. Alexei was groaning almost constantly, watching the pair of you dance around your feelings, feelings he claimed were “written in the stars.”

You and Bob had conversations here and there regarding dreams you’d shared, about how weird it was to experience them and know that they would potentially happen. But your conversations always skirted around the steamy dreams, the intimate ones, the ones that showed the connection you held that went far past platonic. But it was gnawing at both of you, the pull that you felt to one another every second of the day, that one day it finally came to a head.

“D-do you want to uh, to go up to the roof with me?”

You’d looked up from your place at the kitchen sink, arms deep within the suds as you scrubbed away at the dirty dishes left over from team dinner the night before. Warmth flooded your cheeks immediately as you looked at Bob, who wasn’t even looking at you but was fidgeting with the two sandwiches on the plate before him that he was making.

“O-oh, uh uh-yeah, sure. Any uh, any reason why?”

The flush that spread across his skin was evident from where you were, as she shrugged.

“Our friends, they’re uh…they’re loud sometimes. And you haven’t eaten yet, so uh, I made you a sandwich,”

You bit into your bottom lip, trying to calm the nerves dancing around the pit of your stomach and alleviate the tension that was pulling on the cord connecting the two of you.

“Yeah. Why don’t- why don’t you head up and I’ll meet you up there when I finish up the dishes,”

The dishes could’ve waited, but you needed the extra ten minutes it afforded you to calm down. There was some distant memory in your mind of that moment, a sense of deja vu flooding you as you felt like you’d dreamt of that exact conversation at one point in time. You did everything you could to put on a faint air of confidence to yourself as you joined Bob on the roof of the Watchtower.

The last time you’d been on this roof was to celebrate Alexei’s birthday a few months ago. He had desperately wanted to celebrate while looking over the skyline of “the greatest city in the world,” but the high winds that were experienced at that height on top of a skyscraper were…less than ideal. He’d enjoyed his birthday gift from you, which was an enchantment surrounding the rooftop garden of the building, blocking out the wind and allowing him to enjoy the party the rest of the team set up for him.

Bob was sitting cross-legged on one of the couches left behind on the rooftop from the party, hands wringing together in his lap as he looked up to see you walk out onto the patio area. He smiled, nervousness radiating off of him, as you took a seat beside him.

“I should come up here more often,” you softly told him, wringing your own hands together before busying yourself with grabbing the plate he’d left for you with your sandwich. “The sunset over the city…it’s beautiful.”

“I come up here sometimes to think,” Bob told you, taking a bite of his sandwich while glancing over at you. “I’m uh, not a fan of heights…but it’s still pretty.”

You’d both gone silent to eat your sandwiches, but you could feel the weight of the conversation hanging in the air, the one you knew would come someday. The tug in your heart every time you looked at him, the feeling in your soul that urged you to simply move closer to him, despite the elevated heart rate coursing through you.

“Bob-”

“Do you think about them?” his voice had cut you off, the words rushed out as he looked up at you, hugging his arms around his knees as his leg began to shake. “The…the dreams?”

“All the time,” you told him quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Since we met, though, we haven’t had any new ones.”

“What do you…think of them?”

“They’re…comforting,” was the word you settled on, tucking your hair behind your ear as you looked away from Bob for a moment, admiring the colors of the sunset in the sky. “At first, they uh, they were weird. I’ve never really been with anyone…romantically, at least. So being myself in situations like that…they were weird. But you-you-you became this weird constant in my life. I enjoyed going to sleep, knowing that uh, that I’d see you in my dreams. That’s why I tried so hard to find you.”

There was quiet between you both for a moment as you came to terms with your own words, as you accepted the feeling that you were pretty sure was buried in your heart before you even knew about it: you loved him, you loved him before you even knew who he was. Truthfully, your love for him was probably woven into the seams of who you were and who you were going to be before you were even born. And somewhere, deep down in the connection tied between you both and laid out across the dreams you knew were more than just dreams, you knew he loved you, too.

Before you could voice any of this to Bob, he beat you to it.

“I like you!” the outburst interrupted the silence as you turned back to him, frozen in place as Bob stumbled through his words to find the right way to explain it all. “Well, uh, I think I…I think I love you, more so than like. And maybe- maybe I always have? It’s confusing. But since I met you, I…I always want to be around you and- and I can’t imagine ever being with anyone but you…”

Mustering even the smallest bit of confidence you could, you took Bob’s hand in your own, flashing him what you hoped was a comforting smile even as nerves flooded your system.

“After Wanda, my mentor, died on Mount Wundagore, she’d left me something: The Book of Vishanti,” you explained to him. “Wanda’s destiny was written out in The Darkhold, and she told me mine was written out in The Book of Vishanti. I decided never to look, that it was better never to know, and I’d let it play out instead. But I know if I did look…you’d be there. You’d be written across every inch of my destiny. And destiny or not…I-I think I’d fall in love with you all the same.”

It took a moment for the smile matching your own to cross his face, before his palm turned to face yours, your fingers intertwining with one another. You sat on that roof, smiling at one another like fools in love, before Bob let out a breathy laugh.

“How-how do we do…this?”

“Beats me, I’ve never gotten this far,” you’d laughed with him, shifting closer as the space between you both gradually shrank until it was nothing. “Our dream selves…they seem pretty adept at it, though.”

“Maybe it, uh…maybe it just takes practice?”

You both teetered on the edge for a moment before Bob made the first move, surging forward and pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. He’d pulled back sooner than you wanted him to, matching blushes coating your cheeks.

It was your turn, the ice already broken, as you surged toward him this time, pressing your lips back to his and refusing to pull away. That tug between you both seemed to lighten finally as

that wall was finally broken between the two of you, laughter flowing between you both as you pressed kiss after kiss to his lips. Now that you’d finally known the feeling of his lips on yours outside of your dreams, you never wanted it to end.

Locked in your world together, neither of you were privy to the knowledge that Alexei was currently bolting away from the rooftop door and down the stairs, yelling out for Yelena and the team that “his ship was finally sailing.”

2K notes · View notes

urdreamydoodles · 2 months ago

Text

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS X FEM!READER

You kiss them when they least expect it

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Bullseye, Marc Spector, Taskmaster, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Ben Grimm, Susan Storm, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa, Elektra Natchios, Muse, Victor von Doom, Peter Quill & Nova

Reply to anon: As promised...your little Catholic boy. I spend my days writing to keep my mind off my surgery. I'm a really anxious person, so I have to fill my head with my pleasures (my fandoms). So the requests will come out quickly, I'm happy and you're happy... win win. Thank you for all your requests and support. LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH ♡

Peter Parker

- Peter Parker has been kissed before. He has known the warmth of affection, the giddy rush of young love, the slow ache of something deeper. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for the moment your lips press against his, sudden and unannounced, shattering the rhythm of his thoughts like a lightning strike in the middle of a quiet night. His brain short-circuits instantly.

- His body reacts before his mind does, his breath catching, fingers twitching as if unsure whether to hold you or simply let himself drown in the moment. There is a fleeting second of hesitation, a half-formed thought that this must be some kind of dream, some cruel trick played by the universe. But your warmth is real, your presence undeniable. The city fades around him, the constant hum of responsibility momentarily silenced beneath the press of your lips.

- When you finally pull away, Peter blinks—once, twice—like he’s trying to process what just happened. Then, without warning, his face erupts into a deep crimson flush, spreading down to his neck like wildfire. “Oh,” he breathes out, voice slightly strangled. “Okay. Cool. That was… um. Wow.” He rubs the back of his neck, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “Was that, like, a scientific experiment? Because if so, I volunteer for more data collection.”

- Despite the awkward attempt at humor, his hands are still trembling, his pupils blown wide with something raw and unspoken. And then, after a moment of hesitation, his fingers curl around yours, his grip steady despite the lingering nerves. “But, uh… just so we’re clear,” he murmurs, voice softer now, more certain, “if you ever wanna do that again, you won’t have to catch me off guard next time.”

Tony Stark

- Tony Stark has spent a lifetime mastering control. He anticipates every possible scenario, every variable, every consequence. His mind is a constant whirlwind of calculations, solutions, contingencies. But when you kiss him—when you seize the moment and steal his breath away with no warning, no preamble—his mind goes completely, utterly blank. For the first time in years, there is no plan. No exit strategy. Just you.

- His body reacts on instinct, hands coming up to grasp your waist, a sharp inhale against your lips. But it’s not just the physical contact that undoes him—it’s the fact that you did it at all. That you, beautiful and untouchable in a way he never dared to hope for, have chosen him in this moment, with no ulterior motive, no expectation. It is not a conquest. It is not a game. It is real. And Tony Stark has never known how to handle real.

- When you finally break away, his lips are still parted, his usually sharp tongue momentarily silenced. Then, ever so slowly, a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, something dangerous and delighted and entirely Tony. “Well, well,” he muses, his voice a low hum. “That was unexpected. Not that I’m complaining, of course.” He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with mischief. “But, uh, you might wanna be careful, sweetheart. You kiss me like that, and I might just start thinking you like me.”

- And yet, beneath the bravado, there is something softer, something unspoken in the way his fingers linger against your skin, in the way his expression shifts—just for a fraction of a second—into something almost reverent. Because the truth is, he is already lost. And if you kissed him again, he wouldn’t just let you—he’d make damn sure you never stopped.

Steve Rogers

- Steve Rogers is used to the world moving too fast around him. Time slips through his fingers like sand, people come and go like ghosts, and every moment is a reminder of just how much he has lost. But when you kiss him—when you break through the steady, predictable rhythm of his days with something as sudden and undeniable as your lips against his—it is the first time in a long, long while that he feels truly, absolutely present.

- He freezes at first, caught between instinct and shock, but it lasts only a second. Then, without thinking, his hands find your waist, steadying you both as though the moment itself is something fragile, something sacred. His heart is hammering against his ribs, a deep, resounding drumbeat that he swears you must be able to hear. And when he finally exhales, it is not out of hesitation—but out of something else. Something like surrender.

- When you pull back, his blue eyes are searching, tracing your face with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. He doesn’t speak at first, doesn’t joke or tease or stumble over his words. Instead, he simply watches you, memorizing every detail of the moment, committing it to memory as if he is afraid it will slip away. And then, at last, he lets out a quiet, almost incredulous chuckle. “You really do like keeping me on my toes, don’t you?”

- But there is warmth in his voice, something gentle and unshaken. And then, after a moment, he does something you don’t expect—he leans in again, slower this time, deliberate. His lips brush against yours, and this time, he is the one who takes control. And when he pulls away, his hand lingers at the back of your neck, his thumb tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin. “Just so you know,” he murmurs, a small smile playing at his lips, “next time, I won’t let you take me by surprise.”

Thor

- Thor Odinson has been kissed before. He has known the passion of warriors, the devotion of gods, the fleeting tenderness of mortals who looked upon him with awe. And yet, when you kiss him—when you press your lips against his without hesitation, without prelude—it is not reverence that he feels, nor expectation. It is something deeper, something that sinks into his very bones. It is you.

- There is a moment of stillness, as if the entire world holds its breath. Then, with a deep, rumbling exhale, he reacts—not with hesitation, not with shock, but with the full force of a man who has never done anything by halves. His arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against him, his grip firm yet careful, as if you are something both fierce and fragile, something he is terrified of losing.

- When you pull back, he does not release you immediately. His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin, and for a moment, he simply exists in the aftermath of what you have done. Then, with a slow, wolfish grin, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes bright with something unmistakably pleased. “Ah,” he rumbles, his voice thick with amusement, “so the battle has begun, then?”

- And before you can question him, before you can even think, he leans in once more—this time with purpose, with certainty. His lips claim yours in a way that is both a challenge and an offering, a promise and a declaration. And when he finally pulls away, his fingers trail down your spine, his grip unwavering. “A warning, my beloved,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming. “You have started something you may not wish to finish.” But the way he holds you—the way his touch lingers, possessive and warm—tells you that, in truth, he is hoping you never do.

Loki

- Loki is a creature of calculation, of control wrapped in silver-tongued deception. He reads people like poetry, anticipates betrayals before they are spoken, dissects affections before they can wound him. But when your lips find his—without warning, without preamble—it is the first time in centuries that someone has truly caught him off guard. His breath halts, body rigid, as if the universe itself has shifted beneath him.

- He does not pull away. He does not return it immediately, either. Instead, he remains perfectly still, sharp eyes searching yours with an intensity that borders on dangerous. You can almost hear the gears turning in his mind, the war between disbelief and hunger, between skepticism and the undeniable thrill of being wanted without agenda. And then, ever so slowly, the corner of his mouth curls, something dark and pleased blooming in his expression. “Interesting,” he muses, voice velvet-smooth, though there is an unmistakable edge of breathlessness beneath it.

- When you move to step back, he does not allow it. A hand—cool, firm, deceptively gentle—curls around your wrist, anchoring you in place. “You think you can best me in my own game, little one?” he murmurs, amusement dripping from every syllable. “That you can steal a kiss and escape unscathed?” His voice is teasing, but there is something else beneath it—something raw, something aching, something that trembles on the edge of longing.

- And then, with a slow, deliberate certainty, he leans in once more. This time, there is no hesitation, no caution. His lips claim yours in a way that is both challenge and surrender, fire and ice melting together in something neither of you can quite name. And when he finally pulls away, his thumb traces the edge of your jaw, his smirk lazy yet predatory. “You are playing a dangerous game, darling,” he whispers. “And I do hope you intend to see it through.”

Clint Barton

- Clint Barton has been trained to anticipate the unexpected. He is a man who survives on instinct, who sees what others miss, who never lets his guard down—not truly. But when you kiss him, when you press your lips against his without warning, without prelude, it is the first time in years that someone has managed to slip past his defenses. And it floors him.

- His breath stutters, muscles tensing as if expecting some kind of punchline, some cruel joke at his expense. But then—then—your hands brush against his jaw, gentle, grounding, real. And suddenly, the world feels quieter. The weight of it all—the missions, the past, the scars that never quite fade—momentarily lifts, leaving nothing but the steady, warm press of your mouth against his. And for once, he lets himself sink into it.

- When you finally pull away, he blinks as if shaking off a haze, lips parted in something like disbelief. And then, ever so slowly, a grin spreads across his face—lazy, crooked, entirely Clint. “Well, damn,” he breathes out, a chuckle escaping him. “Gonna be honest, didn’t see that one coming.” He tilts his head, eyes alight with mischief. “You always go around ambushing guys like this, or am I just special?”

- But there is something softer beneath the teasing, something unspoken in the way his fingers linger near yours, as if debating whether to pull you back in. And then, with a quiet exhale, he murmurs, “Not that I’m complaining, but—maybe next time, give a guy some warning?” He smirks. “Or don’t. I kinda like the element of surprise.”

Natasha Romanoff

- Natasha Romanoff is not a woman who is easily caught off guard. She is control, precision, danger wrapped in elegance. She anticipates every move before it happens, never allows herself to be vulnerable, never lets anyone too close. But when you kiss her—without warning, without calculation—it is the one scenario she never saw coming.

- Her body tenses immediately, years of instinct screaming at her to assess the threat, to react. But then—then—your lips linger, warm and unhurried, and something in her falters. There is no ulterior motive, no expectation, no game being played. Just you. And that, more than anything, leaves her shaken. She does not kiss you back, not at first. She is too busy deciphering why—why you would do this, why she doesn’t hate it, why the world suddenly feels too small with you this close.

- When you pull away, she does not speak. Instead, she tilts her head, studying you with an unreadable expression, emerald eyes scanning your face as if searching for an answer you have not yet spoken. And then, at last, a small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. “Brave,” she murmurs, voice smooth, almost amused. “Reckless, but brave.” But there is something else in her gaze—something uncertain, something hesitant. As if she is not quite sure what to do with the warmth still lingering on her lips.

- Then, before you can respond, she steps closer, closing the space between you. There is no hesitation this time, no calculation—just the slow, deliberate press of her mouth against yours. And when she finally pulls away, her voice is softer, quieter. “Don’t do that unless you mean it,” she warns. But the way her fingers trail against your wrist, the way her breath lingers against your skin, tells you that she is hoping—just this once—that you do.

Bucky Barnes

- Bucky Barnes is a man who flinches at softness. He does not know how to accept kindness without suspicion, does not know how to be wanted without expectation. He has spent years being used, being controlled, being nothing more than a weapon to be wielded. But when you kiss him—when you press your lips against his without warning—it is the first time in a long, long while that he is simply Bucky.

- His entire body stiffens at first, muscles coiled as if expecting an attack, a trap, a trick. But then your hands brush against him—gentle, grounding, real—and something in him cracks. His breath shudders against your lips, something raw and unspoken trembling just beneath the surface. And for the first time in years, he allows himself to be held instead of holding himself together.

- When you pull away, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. His expression is unreadable, blue eyes stormy with something you can’t quite decipher. And then, ever so slowly, he exhales. “Why?” The word is quiet, hesitant, as if he doesn’t believe he deserves the answer. As if he is bracing himself for you to tell him it was a mistake. But you don’t. You just look at him, and that alone is enough to undo him.

- And then, after a long moment, his fingers brush against yours, tentative, uncertain. “Do it again,” he murmurs, the words barely audible. But when you do—when you kiss him once more, slow and patient and real—his hands finally come up to hold you, steady and warm and home. And this time, he doesn’t let you pull away.

Matthew Murdock

- Matthew Murdock is a man who lives in anticipation. Every breath, every footstep, every heartbeat in his vicinity is accounted for, cataloged, expected. He senses things before they happen, navigates the unseen with the certainty of someone who has never truly been blind. But he does not sense this. The moment your lips press against his, his world—usually so finely attuned—stutters. For the first time in a long time, Matt is truly caught off guard.

- His breath hitches, his fingers twitch at his sides, and for a brief moment, he is frozen in place. The taste of you lingers—warmth and surprise and something maddeningly sweet. His senses flood with you, and it is overwhelming in the best and worst way. His pulse is erratic, his mind a mess of tangled thoughts. He has fought the devil inside himself for so long, denied himself softness, pushed away love because it only ever ends in ruin. And yet, here you are. Kissing him.

- When you pull back, he exhales shakily, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words come. Instead, his hand finds you—fingertips ghosting over your cheek, as if to make certain you are real. His voice, when he finally manages to use it, is quiet, reverent. “You shouldn’t do things like that,” he murmurs, but there is no conviction in his words, no true protest. Only the lingering tremor of someone who wants—desperately, deeply—but does not know if he is allowed to have.

- And then, as if unable to resist the temptation you have placed before him, he leans in. His kiss is not hasty, not fevered, but something far more dangerous—slow, deliberate, inevitable. It is an unspoken confession, a quiet surrender, a promise that he may not be ready to put into words. But his hands find your waist, his lips press deeper into yours, and the way he sighs against your mouth tells you all you need to know.

Frank Castle

- Frank Castle has lost too much to believe in second chances. Love is a thing he buried alongside his family, a thing he does not touch, does not deserve. He is a man made of violence, of war and grief and cold, unrelenting vengeance. He does not get soft things. So when you kiss him—when you, in all your warmth, in all your reckless beauty, dare to press your lips to his—he does not know what to do with it.

- His entire body goes still, as if the world has caught fire and he is standing in the center of the blaze, unscathed but bewildered. He does not pull away. He does not push you back. He simply exists in the moment, feeling something that is not rage, not pain, not the gnawing emptiness that has been his only companion for years. The taste of you lingers—something achingly sweet against the bitterness of his own existence.

- When you finally step back, he exhales sharply, his breath uneven, his jaw clenched. His eyes—dark, stormy, battle-hardened—lock onto yours, searching, questioning. He wants to tell you this is a mistake. That people who get close to him only end up hurt, that his hands are meant for killing, not holding. But he doesn’t say it. Because for the first time in a long, long time, he does not want to push something away.

- Instead, his fingers curl at his sides, his voice low, rough. “You sure you wanna be doin’ that?” It’s not a warning—it’s an invitation. A chance to walk away before he inevitably ruins you the way he ruins everything else. But when you don’t—when you meet his gaze and kiss him again, slower this time, softer—his resolve cracks, and he kisses you back with something that is almost desperate, almost alive.

Bullseye (Lester)

- Bullseye is used to taking. He takes lives, takes power, takes anything he wants because no one can stop him. He is a monster, and he knows it—embraces it. There is nothing good in him. Nothing worth saving. And yet, you—beautiful, foolish, unafraid—have the audacity to kiss him as if he is anything but ruin incarnate.

- The moment your lips meet his, something snaps in him. His instincts scream at him to turn this into a game, to take control, to make you regret ever thinking you could surprise him. But for once, he does not move. He lets himself feel it. The warmth of you, the softness, the maddening contrast of something so pure against the corruption that coats his soul like tar. It is unexpected, undeserved, and utterly intoxicating.

- When you pull away, his smirk is slow, sharp-edged, dangerous. His eyes—dark and gleaming with something predatory—drag over your face like he’s memorizing every detail, committing your recklessness to memory. “Well, damn,” he drawls, voice slick with amusement. “Didn’t know you had it in you, sweetheart.” His fingers ghost over his lips as if testing whether the sensation was real or just some twisted hallucination.

- And then, with a sudden, startling speed, he moves. One hand grips the back of your neck, the other pressing against your waist, and before you can react, he’s kissing you back. But this—this is something else entirely. It is wild, chaotic, consuming. A warning, a promise, a claim. And when he finally pulls away, grinning like the devil himself, he murmurs, “Hope you know what you just started.”

Marc Spector

- Marc Spector is used to ghosts. His past, his mistakes, his fractured mind—he carries them all like shadows that never fade. He does not trust happiness, does not trust peace, because both have been ripped from him too many times to count. And love? Love is not something that belongs to men like him. But then there is you. And then there is this. Your lips against his, unannounced, unexpected, real.

- The first sensation is shock. Not fear, not rejection—just shock. His mind, always a battlefield of shifting identities and whispered voices, goes silent for one aching, beautiful moment. The warmth of your mouth, the way you lean into him with no hesitation, no fear—it is something foreign, something he does not know how to hold. And yet, he wants to. God help him, he wants to.

- When you pull back, his breath is unsteady, his hands curled into fists at his sides as if fighting the urge to pull you back in. His eyes—haunted, desperate, yearning—flicker between you and the ground, as if struggling to find something solid to anchor himself. “You shouldn’t…” His voice is raw, broken. “You shouldn’t do that.” But there is no weight behind the words, no real protest. Just the quiet, trembling confession of a man who does not believe he deserves to be touched with kindness.

- And then, with a slow exhale, he makes a choice. His hand—scarred, trembling—reaches for yours, fingers brushing tentatively before curling around them. He does not pull you close, does not claim you the way others might. Instead, he simply holds on. A silent plea, a fragile hope. And when he finally kisses you back, it is not with hunger, not with dominance—but with something far more dangerous. Need.

Taskmaster (Tony Masters)

- Taskmaster survives by reading people before they can act. He sees a shift in weight, a flicker of intent, the smallest twitch of a muscle, and he knows what comes next. It’s how he wins fights, how he predicts every move before it happens. But not this. Not you. He doesn’t see it coming when your lips press against his, a ghost of warmth against the cold edge of a man who has spent his life being untouchable.

- His entire body stiffens, instincts roaring at him to react, to counter, to do something—but he doesn’t. His mind, trained to memorize, analyze, replicate, suddenly falters. He can mimic a thousand fighting styles, anticipate attacks from the best in the world, but he has no defense for the softness of your mouth, the way you kiss him like he is something more than a weapon. And it unsettles him.

- When you pull back, his hands twitch at his sides, fingers flexing as if searching for the right response. His mask hides his face, but you can feel the way he’s staring at you, the sharp intensity of a man trying to process something he can’t categorize. “The hell was that for?” he finally mutters, his voice low, rough—gravel scraped over steel. But there is no anger, no mockery. Just a quiet, dangerous curiosity.

- And then, something shifts. A decision made. He moves faster than thought, a gloved hand catching your wrist, pulling you in before you can slip away. And when he kisses you back, it is not soft, not hesitant. It is sharp-edged and confident, like a man reclaiming control over the one thing that has ever caught him off guard. You wanted to surprise him? Fine. But now, he’s the one in charge.

Johnny Storm

- Johnny Storm burns hot—always has, always will. A fire that never quite settles, never dims. He is loud and reckless and bright, and he wears his confidence like a second skin. But beneath it all, there is something deeper, something hidden behind smirks and easy laughter. And it is that something that flickers the moment you kiss him.

- At first, he doesn’t process it. One second he’s talking, maybe making some cocky remark, and the next—your lips are on his. His brain short-circuits. Johnny Storm, king of comebacks, has absolutely nothing to say. There’s just heat, not from his flames but from the rush of you, the sudden realization that this thing he’s been pretending not to feel is very, very real.

- When you pull back, he blinks—once, twice—before a slow, almost disbelieving grin spreads across his face. “Damn,” he exhales, voice a little breathless, a little stunned. And then, because he is who he is, he recovers. “If you wanted a piece of me, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.” But his voice wavers slightly at the end, betraying the fact that he is not nearly as unaffected as he wants to seem.

- And then, before you can say anything, he moves. A hand curling around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he crashes his lips back to yours, kissing you with the full force of his fire—burning, consuming, alive. Because Johnny Storm never does anything halfway, and now that he knows what you taste like, he is never going to pretend he doesn’t want more.

Reed Richards

- Reed Richards lives in a world of equations. He understands the mechanics of the universe, the fabric of reality, the infinite complexities of time and space. But there are some things even he cannot predict. Some things he cannot quantify. You are one of those things. And when you kiss him, it is a complete and utter anomaly.

- His breath stills, his mind goes blank—something that has not happened in years. He can usually calculate the likelihood of an event before it occurs, but this? This wasn’t factored into his reality. His hands hover in the air, as if unsure of the proper response, as if the laws of physics themselves have momentarily escaped him.

- When you step back, he does not move immediately. He is frozen, recalibrating, processing. Then, slowly, his lips part, and a quiet, stunned “Oh” escapes him—soft, unguarded. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, as if needing a moment to refocus. “That was… unexpected.” His voice holds no rejection, only fascination, as if he has just witnessed a scientific miracle.

- And then, something shifts. His hand reaches for yours—not hasty, not desperate, but careful, deliberate. His eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long while, Reed Richards abandons calculations in favor of instinct. When he kisses you again, it is slow, exploratory, like a man learning a new language and savoring every syllable.

Ben Grimm

- Ben Grimm does not get soft things. He does not get stolen kisses or tender touches or the kind of love that isn’t weighed down by pity. He is The Thing. A man made of stone, of battle and loss, of aching loneliness that he never speaks of. And yet, here you are. Kissing him. As if he is not a monster. As if he is just a man.

- He stiffens, his whole body locking up. His heart—too big, too hopeful despite everything—stumbles in his chest. He has dreamed of things like this before, but dreams are cruel, and reality is harsher. He expects you to pull away, to realize what you’ve done, to see him and regret it. But you don’t. You don’t. And that, more than the kiss itself, threatens to undo him.

- When you finally step back, his throat works around words he can’t quite form, holding the weight of years spent convincing himself he doesn’t get to have this. His massive hands twitch at his sides, as if afraid to reach for something too fragile, too precious. “You… you sure about that?” There is doubt in his tone, not because he doesn’t want you, but because he doesn’t know how to believe you’d want him.

- But when you step closer again, pressing your hands against the solid breadth of his chest, when you tilt your head up and kiss him again, slow and sure and certain, something in him cracks. A deep, shuddering breath escapes him, and his massive arms finally—finally—come around you, pulling you close. And when he kisses you back, it is hesitant at first, reverent. But then it deepens, something raw and aching in the way he holds you, like a man who has been starved of love for far too long.

Susan Storm

- Susan Storm is a woman of grace, of careful composure, of quiet strength that bends but never breaks. She is a leader, a protector, a force of nature wrapped in silk. And yet, for all her brilliance, for all her ability to phase in and out of sight, she does not see you coming. Not when you step close. Not when your fingers graze her cheek. Not when your lips press against hers in a kiss that is as sudden as it is soft.

- Her breath stills, caught between the moment and the impossible realization of what it means. Her mind races—was she blind to this? Had she misread the signs, the weight of your glances, the unspoken words hovering between you for so long? But all thoughts unravel when she feels the warmth of your lips, the unguarded tenderness of it. She has spent her life holding herself steady, but now—now she is the one being unraveled.

- When you finally pull back, she blinks, slow and breathless, a flush creeping up her neck. “Oh,” she murmurs, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at the corner of her lips. A rare moment where she is not Susan Storm, the poised and polished heroine, but simply a woman standing before someone who has just shaken her world.

- And then, that moment of surprise shifts into something else—something warmer, something braver. Her fingers find your wrist, curling around it in a silent request. She meets your gaze, eyes shining with something unreadable, something soft. And when she kisses you again, it is no longer hesitation, no longer surprise—it is intention, steady and sure, as if she has made up her mind that this—you—is something she does not want to let go.

Felicia Hardy

- Felicia Hardy is a woman who dances on the edge of danger, who thrives in stolen moments and the rush of risk. She is a thief, a phantom in the night, a creature made of silver laughter and sharp edges. She knows the art of seduction, the game of push and pull, and yet—when you kiss her, it is not part of the game. It is not calculated, not played for leverage. And that is what stops her dead in her tracks.

- Her lips part against yours, a stunned exhale slipping free. For the first time in a long, long time, Felicia Hardy is caught off guard. She is used to controlling the moment, to being the one who sets the pace, who dictates the terms. But this—this—feels like something stolen from her. And she doesn’t know if she wants to steal it back, or if she wants to let herself fall.

- When you pull away, her signature smirk wavers, something uncertain flickering behind those sharp, clever eyes. “Well, well,” she purrs, but there’s a breathlessness to it, a vulnerability beneath the velvet tone. “Didn’t know you had it in you.” A tease, a cover. But her fingers twitch at her sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for you, to pull you back in, to demand more.

- And then, as if making a silent decision, she moves. She closes the space between you with a sharp, deliberate kind of grace, tilting her head with the confidence of a woman who has decided to play a game she was not expecting—but one she suddenly wants to win. When she kisses you again, it is slow, languid, laced with amusement and hunger, as if savoring the way you are the one who caught her off guard for once.

Stephen Strange

- Stephen Strange is a man of logic, of precision, of control honed by years of discipline. He bends reality to his will, commands forces beyond human comprehension, and yet—he is utterly unprepared for the moment your lips press against his.

- His body locks up, his breath caught between disbelief and something deeper, something dangerously close to longing. He does not move at first, too caught in the sheer absurdity of it. He has faced cosmic horrors, rewritten fate itself, but he cannot seem to process the feeling of your touch, the warmth of your mouth against his own.

- When you step back, he blinks, slow and calculating, as if searching for some rational explanation. “That was… unexpected,” he says at last, his voice measured but carrying the faintest waver. He looks at you as though you are a paradox he cannot solve, an anomaly in his carefully structured existence.

- And then, after a long pause, his lips curl in something resembling amusement, a rare, genuine softness breaking through the rigid control. “I suppose,” he murmurs, stepping closer, voice dropping to something almost dangerous, almost reverent, “it would only be fair if I returned the favor.” And when he kisses you again, it is with the deliberation of a man who refuses to leave anything to chance.

Namor

- Namor is not a man accustomed to surprise. He is a king, a warrior, a god walking among mortals. He has stood against empires, defied the heavens, and shaped history with his own hands. But when you kiss him—you, with your infuriating defiance and your breathtaking boldness—he is, for the first time in centuries, at a complete and utter loss.

- His entire body tenses, as if bracing for an attack rather than an act of tenderness. And yet, despite his initial shock, despite the sheer audacity of you, he does not pull away. He does not stop you. Instead, his sharp, piercing eyes darken, a slow and simmering heat curling beneath his ribs—dangerous, unrelenting.

- When you finally part, he does not speak immediately. He simply looks at you, gaze heavy with something unreadable. And then, after a moment, his lips curl—not in anger, but in something far more unsettling. Amusement. Interest. Challenge. “You are either very brave,” he murmurs, voice rich and edged with something unmistakably possessive, “or very foolish.”

- And then, before you can respond, before you can think to retreat, he moves. His hands—strong, unyielding—catch your wrist, his body closing the space between you with the effortless command of a king reclaiming what is his. And when he kisses you again, it is not a question. It is a declaration, a silent vow that whatever game you have started, he will be the one to finish.

Johnny Blaze

- Fire and damnation have clung to Johnny Blaze for as long as he can remember. He is a man marked by hellfire, by a fate he never asked for, by the weight of every soul he has ever sent screaming into the dark. He does not expect kindness, not really, not from anyone. And yet, when you kiss him—suddenly, without warning, like a spark catching dry earth—he is stunned into absolute stillness.

- The scent of smoke and leather clings to him, the remnants of something infernal lurking beneath his skin, but you do not hesitate. Your lips are warm, soft, a stark contrast to the cold edges of his existence. He has faced demons, outrun the devil himself, but this? This simple, quiet moment? It terrifies him in a way nothing else ever has.

- He exhales sharply when you pull back, as if he’s just come up for air after drowning. His blue eyes burn like embers, searching your face as if trying to understand what the hell just happened. His throat works around words he doesn’t know how to say, his fingers twitching at his sides like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t trust himself to. “You don’t wanna do that,” he finally mutters, voice rough with something dangerously close to longing.

- But when you tilt your head, when you don’t flinch, don’t pull away, don’t fear him—something in him cracks. His jaw clenches, his hands curl into fists, and then, finally, finally, he lets himself move. He grabs the back of your neck with a touch that is both possessive and reverent, and when he kisses you again, it is with the desperation of a man who has spent too many years in the dark, suddenly blinded by the light.

Eddie Brock / Venom

- Eddie Brock is a man who has lost too much, fought too hard, and learned to trust too little. He is rough around the edges, worn down by anger and regret, always bracing for the moment when the world inevitably turns against him. He is not used to gentleness—not from others, and certainly not for himself. And so, when you kiss him, when you press your lips against his like it is the most natural thing in the world, his brain short-circuits entirely.

- His first instinct is to pull back, to question, to doubt. But Venom—Venom is faster. The symbiote rumbles in amusement, in approval, wrapping around Eddie’s ribs like a second heartbeat. "We like this one," the alien purrs inside his mind, and Eddie swears under his breath because of course Venom would be delighted by this.

- “You’re—” Eddie starts, but stops himself, dragging a hand down his face like he’s trying to physically shove down the confusion. He shakes his head, glancing at you with something that is half bewilderment, half hunger. He wants to say something cocky, something to brush it off, but all that comes out is a breathless, “What the hell was that for?”

- And then Venom moves, slick tendrils curling around his shoulders, shifting his posture. "Kiss her back, Eddie," the symbiote urges, a wicked, knowing grin in his voice. And—God help him—Eddie does. He surges forward, his grip strong, his kiss a mixture of frustration and want, like he’s fighting against how much he needs this, how much he needs you. And when he finally breaks away, his breath is ragged, his pupils blown wide. Shit.

T’Challa

- T’Challa is not a man who is easily surprised. He is a king, a warrior, a strategist who sees every angle before the game even begins. His mind is always ten steps ahead, his composure an unshakable force of nature. And yet—when you kiss him, when you step close without prelude or warning, tilting your chin up to press your lips to his—he is caught entirely off guard.

- His breath hitches, just slightly, so small a reaction that most would not catch it. But you are not most. You are you, and you notice the way his body stills, the way his fingers twitch at his sides as if warring with the impulse to pull you closer. His heartbeat is steady, measured, but beneath the surface—oh, beneath the surface, you have sent ripples through a man who does not bend easily.

- When you part from him, his dark eyes study your face with a sharpness that borders on unreadable. “You are bold,” he says, but there is no admonishment in his tone—only observation, only something deeply considering. His gaze is heavy, knowing, like he has already unraveled every reason why you did it. And yet, for all his brilliance, there is one question left unanswered.

- And so, after a pause, he tilts his head ever so slightly, a slow, deliberate movement. “Was that a challenge?” The words are a whisper, rich and silken, spoken against your lips as he closes the space between you once more. His kiss is not hurried, not desperate—it is a promise, a declaration, a reminder that T’Challa does nothing without intention. And you? You have just become something he intends to keep.

Elektra Natchios

- Elektra moves like a shadow, like a blade cutting through the dark, like something that cannot be held for long. She is sharp edges and silken danger, a whisper of death wrapped in a dancer’s grace. She does not trust easily. She does not love easily. And yet, when you kiss her—fast, sudden, without warning—she does not push you away. No. She freezes, her entire body tensed, not out of resistance, but because she did not see it coming.

- For a woman who has spent her life reading people like open books, you have just managed to turn a page she did not anticipate. Her lips part against yours, not in invitation but in sheer, startled stillness. The moment you step back, her gaze is already piercing into you, unreadable and electric, the air between you charged with something taut and dangerous.

- “That,” she breathes, eyes narrowing just slightly, “was foolish.” But the way she says it—it is not a warning, not truly. It is curiosity, the ghost of something far more wicked lurking beneath the surface. She watches you like a cat watching its prey, her fingers twitching at her sides, as if deciding whether to draw a weapon or pull you back in.

- And then, just as quickly, just as effortlessly, she moves. Her hand catches your wrist, yanking you forward with a force that is not violent but possessive. And when she kisses you this time, it is not hesitation—it is fire and fury, a battle won with the curl of her fingers at your nape, the press of her body against yours. If this is a game, you have just signed yourself into a war. And Elektra Natchios? She never loses.

Muse

- Muse does not feel things the way others do. Art consumes him, violence is his language, and the world is nothing but a blank canvas begging to be marred. He has wandered through blood-soaked streets and carved poetry into walls with trembling hands, but this—this sudden kiss, this moment where your lips press against his without prelude or warning—is something entirely new.

- He does not flinch. He does not gasp. He does not react in any way that might be considered human. Instead, he listens. To the way your breath hitches. To the way your heartbeat stumbles in your chest. To the way the world stills around him, just for a moment, like existence itself is waiting to see what he will do next. And oh, how he loves the weight of expectation.

- When you finally pull back, his blind eyes remain locked onto you, empty and unreadable, yet somehow knowing. His lips part—not in surprise, but in something closer to fascination. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, the word almost a sigh, almost a prayer. “Do it again.” It is not a request. It is not a plea. It is a command wrapped in velvet, spoken like a secret only you were meant to hear.

- And when you hesitate, when you wonder if it is wise, if it is safe, he simply tilts his head, his smile carving itself into his face like a brushstroke on an unfinished painting. His fingers ghost over your jaw, not quite touching, not yet. “I wonder,” he muses, voice lilting with something dangerous, something close to reverence, “how many shades of red I could pull from your lips alone.”

Victor von Doom

- Victor von Doom does not tolerate surprises. His mind is a kingdom unto itself, a fortress built upon knowledge and control. There is no action he takes that is not calculated, no movement that is not deliberate. And yet—when you kiss him, when you dare to step into his space and press your lips against his without permission, without warning—it is the one moment he does not anticipate.

- His body tenses, not in shock but in something colder, something unreadable. There is steel in his stance, in the way his fingers curl ever so slightly at his sides. For one impossibly long second, the world feels as if it has stopped, as if the very air around you is waiting for his verdict. And then, his hands rise—not to push you away, but to cup your face with the precision of a sculptor, as if he is considering whether to keep this moment or cast it aside.

- “Foolish,” he murmurs, though his grip does not loosen. His green eyes burn into yours, heavy with something unreadable, something vast. “You mistake me for a man who yields to impulse.” But you can feel it—the faint tremor beneath his touch, the war waging behind his gaze. You have shaken something in him. Something he does not have words for.

- And then, Doom decides. His grip tightens just slightly, his gaze darkens, and when he leans in, it is not hesitant. It is not uncertain. No, Victor von Doom does not do anything halfway. His lips capture yours with the finality of a ruler taking his throne, with the weight of a choice made, a fate sealed. And when he pulls away, he exhales sharply, as if he has allowed himself one moment of indulgence—and nothing more. “You are either very bold,” he muses, voice quiet, “or very foolish.” And then, after a pause, after a second’s hesitation— “Perhaps both.”

Peter Quill

- Peter Quill has been kissed before. By strangers in bars, by lovers who knew better, by the lingering ghosts of memories he refuses to let go of. But this—this kiss, your kiss—catches him completely off guard.

- He is mid-sentence, probably saying something ridiculous, something cocky, something meant to make you roll your eyes—and then, suddenly, your lips are on his, stealing the words right from his mouth. His brain short-circuits so violently that for a full second, he just stands there, hands hovering awkwardly like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

- And then, like a delayed reaction, like an aftershock, he grins. A slow, lazy, completely obnoxious grin that spreads across his face like wildfire. “Well, damn,” he breathes, blinking at you like he’s just been hit by a starship. “If I knew that’s how you felt, I would’ve shut up ages ago.”

- But then—just when you think he’ll ruin it with another joke—he tugs you forward, his fingers curling around your waist with an easy kind of confidence. And when he kisses you this time, it is deeper, slower, like he’s savoring it, like he means it. And maybe, just maybe, Peter Quill has finally found something—someone—worth holding onto.

Nova (Richard Rider)

- Richard Rider has been through hell. He has seen galaxies burn, has carried the weight of worlds on his shoulders, has fought and bled and lost more than he can put into words. He is tired. He is so tired. And yet—when you kiss him, when you pull him down from the weight of the cosmos and remind him of something as simple, as human as this—he forgets, just for a moment, how heavy the universe feels.

- His breath stutters. His entire body tenses, like he’s waiting for something to go wrong, like he’s bracing for an impact that never comes. He has been hurt before, has been broken in ways that no amount of power can fix, and yet—this is different. You are different.

- “I—” he starts, but the words get lost somewhere between his lips and yours. He laughs, but it’s not the cocky, confident sound most people expect from him. It’s breathless, unsure. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Didn’t see that coming.” But the way he looks at you—the way his blue eyes soften, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you and doesn’t know if he should—tells you that maybe, just maybe, he’s glad you caught him off guard.

- And then, slowly, hesitantly, he steps closer. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones with a gentleness that feels at odds with the battles he’s fought, with the wars he’s survived. And when he kisses you again, it is not hurried, not rushed. It is quiet. It is careful. It is real. Because for the first time in a long, long time—Richard Rider is not fighting. He is simply here. With you.

944 notes · View notes

psychoticfemmm · 5 months ago

Note

Hia! Can you do another Peter Parker x Stark! Reader, I absolutely loved your last one. Could the plotline be along the lines of : Tony walks into your room and finds you and Peter asleep cuddling after you snuck him in the night before. Maybe the whole team gets involved and starts taking photos for blackmail 🤣 Thank you!

Caught in the Act

pairing: Peter Parker x stark!reader

summary: read the request

The sunlight streamed through your bedroom curtains, falling perfectly on the two of you. Peter Parker’s arm was draped over your waist, his face nuzzled into your neck. His warm breath tickled your skin, and you groaned softly, stirring from your sleep.

The events of the night before were hazy but thrilling: a whispered phone call, Peter scaling the side of the Avengers Tower, and an impromptu movie marathon that ended with the two of you tangled up in each other’s arms.

Peter shifted in his sleep, his nose brushing against your collarbone. A soft hum escaped him, and you smiled, reaching up to lightly ruffle his messy curls.

“Good morning, lovebirds.”

The unmistakable voice of Tony Stark shattered the moment.

Your eyes snapped open, and your heart dropped. Standing at the foot of your bed was your dad, his arms crossed and an expression caught between amusement and absolute mortification.

“D-Dad?!” you stammered, sitting up abruptly. Peter groaned at the sudden movement, blinking himself awake.

“Morning, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled sleepily before realizing where he was and who was standing there. His eyes went wide, and he bolted upright. “MR. STARK! I—uh—this isn’t what it looks like!”

Tony raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Really? Because it looks like Spider-Boy snuck into my daughter’s room and decided to cuddle his way into trouble.”

“Dad, it’s not like that!” you protested, though your flushed face said otherwise.

“Oh, so it’s worse,” Tony quipped, cutting you off. “Got it. And by the way, the entire team is outside, loving this.”

Your jaw dropped. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” Tony replied smugly. “Because if I have to suffer through this, everyone else does too.”

Right on cue, the door creaked open, and Steve Rogers stepped in, his phone out and snapping a picture. “Morning, kiddos. Cute couple pose, by the way.”

“STEVE!” you yelled, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at him.

Natasha followed, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Aw, I remember young love. You guys were adorable—until Stark called us in for backup.”

“Seriously?” Peter groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh, it’s not just us,” Natasha added as Thor poked his head in.

“Why was I not informed of this bonding moment?” Thor boomed, grinning. “Ah, Spider-Man and Stark’s offspring. A powerful duo!”

“Can you all get out?!” you shouted, grabbing another pillow.

“Not until I get my blackmail photo,” Natasha teased.

Peter tugged you closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “You know, if this keeps up, I might have to climb out the window.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you muttered back, glaring at the group.

Bruce finally showed up, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “Tony, you’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I like to think I’m setting the bar,” Tony said smugly.

Finally, the team filtered out, laughing and bantering as they went. Tony lingered for a moment, fixing Peter with a look. “You’re lucky I like you, Parker. But if I catch you sneaking in again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter stammered.

As the door shut, the room finally fell silent. You let out a sigh, flopping back onto the bed. Peter lay beside you, covering his face with his hands.

“Well,” you started, “that went about as horribly as it could’ve gone.”

Peter groaned. “They’re never going to let me live this down. Your dad is probably going to build a tracker for me now.”

“Probably,” you teased, rolling onto your side to face him.

He peeked at you through his fingers, his face still flushed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a grin.

Peter leaned in closer, his voice dropping slightly. “You know, we could’ve avoided all of this if you hadn’t convinced me to stay the night.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “I convinced you? Last I checked, you were the one who said, ‘But I can’t leave you now, you’re too cute when you’re sleepy.’”

His cheeks turned redder. “Okay, fine. Maybe I did say that.”

You leaned closer, your lips brushing against his. “Guess you’ll just have to make it up to me later.”

Peter’s breath hitched, but before he could respond, you pulled back, smirking. “Now, get up, Spider-Boy. We’ve got breakfast to deal with—and probably a million jokes from the team.”

“Great,” he muttered, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “But next time, we’re sneaking into my room. May wouldn’t call the Avengers on us.”

“Deal,” you replied, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door.

#peter parker x stark!reader #Peter Parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #marvel mcu #fanfiction #the avengers #marvel #Peter Parker x avenger!reader

960 notes · View notes

amethystarachnid · 8 months ago

Text

SKY ROCKETS AND ROBOTS - part I

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

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

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, some angst, a little bit of spicy

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Part 2

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5k

ᯓ★ TW(s): Y/N's ex left her when she got pregnant, Tony is a softie here

ᯓ★ Timeline: before the Avengers were formed

ᯓ★ Request: Tony stark × reader! single mom please? With fluff and smut 😅😅💐 ( @binsan)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You were once a bright young engineer, fresh out of MIT with dreams as big as the sky. You had a passion for technology, a sharp mind, and a heart full of ambition. Then life happened, in ways you never expected. You met someone, fell in love, and things moved fast. Maybe too fast. A whirlwind romance turned into an unexpected pregnancy, and before you knew it, you were a mother to a beautiful baby girl named Lily.

But your partner? He wasn’t ready. He disappeared from your life, leaving you alone to figure things out. At first, it was overwhelming, balancing work, the responsibilities of motherhood, and the heartbreak of abandonment. But you pulled through. You took up freelance work, designing software and small tech solutions from home, juggling conference calls while nursing, coding through the night after bedtime. You got used to it, became stronger, more resilient. Now, your daughter is five, a bundle of energy and curiosity who’s inherited your love for science and technology.

You’ve come a long way since those early days of struggle, but there’s still a part of you that wonders if you’ll ever find someone who’ll love both you and Lily. Someone who won’t run at the first sign of difficulty.

And then one day, you meet Tony Stark.

🚀

You don’t expect your day to take a turn like this. It’s a warm Saturday afternoon, and you’re at a local science expo — a rare treat for you and Lily. She’s dragging you from one exhibit to another, her little hands pulling on yours with excited tugs. It’s moments like these that remind you why you push so hard. Seeing her wide-eyed and full of wonder makes every sleepless night worth it.

You’re at an exhibit featuring cutting-edge AI when you feel her stop abruptly.

“Mommy, look! That's Iron Man!” Lily’s voice is filled with awe as she points to the tall figure standing a few feet away, surrounded by a small crowd. You follow her finger, and your heart skips a beat.

Tony Stark.

There’s no mistaking him, dressed in a sharp blazer and sunglasses, exuding that signature arrogance and charm you’ve only ever seen on TV. He’s in the middle of a casual conversation with someone, but even from here, you can feel the aura of importance surrounding him.

“Yeah, that’s Iron Man,” you murmur, feeling a bit like a deer in headlights. You hadn’t expected to run into someone like him.

But Lily, being the fearless little adventurer she is, takes off running toward him before you can stop her. You’re quick on her heels, heart pounding as you call her name.

“Lily, wait!”

But it’s too late. She’s already tugging on Tony Stark’s pant leg by the time you catch up, looking up at him with those wide, curious eyes.

“Hi, Iron Man! I like your robots,” she says brightly, as if she’s talking to any random adult. Tony glances down, pulling his sunglasses off to reveal a pair of surprisingly kind eyes as he kneels to her level.

“Hey there, kiddo. You’ve got good taste.” He flashes a grin, and for a moment, you see why people love him so much. There’s something disarming about his easy confidence.

You finally reach them, feeling flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry—she’s… really into tech. She didn’t mean to—”

But Tony waves a hand dismissively, standing up to his full height and giving you a once-over. His gaze lingers just a fraction too long, and you suddenly feel like you’re under a microscope.

“No harm done,” he says, his tone surprisingly light. “She’s got a future, clearly. Knows how to pick role models.”

You chuckle awkwardly, still trying to process that you’re standing in front of the Tony Stark. Up close, he’s even more intimidating, but in a weirdly magnetic way. There’s a spark in his eyes that speaks of brilliance, mischief, and something deeper you can’t quite put your finger on.

“She loves Iron Man,” you say, trying to regain some composure. “She’s been obsessed with building things since she could stack blocks. I can’t seem to keep her away from anything mechanical.”

Tony arches a brow, glancing down at Lily who’s now excitedly talking about the miniature rocket she tried to build last week.

“Is that so?” he says, crouching down again, giving Lily his full attention. “A mini rocket, huh? Did it work?”

Lily shakes her head, her pigtails swaying. “It almost did. But it went boom.”

Tony chuckles, ruffling her hair lightly. “Sometimes that’s how the best inventions start. Next time, try using a lower combustion rate. Less ‘boom,’ more ‘whoosh.’”

You’re surprised by how gentle he is with her, how effortlessly he connects with a child, that you don't have the heart to tell him that it was you who did the major part of the building process. For a moment, you just watch them, your chest tightening at the sight of Lily’s joy. It’s rare for her to interact with anyone like this, especially someone who doesn’t treat her like a kid.

He stands up again, turning to you with a smirk. “She’s smart. Gets it from her mom?”

You flush slightly at the compliment, feeling a bit tongue-tied under his gaze. “I guess you could say that. I was an engineer before…” You trail off, not sure why you’re suddenly oversharing. Something about Tony Stark makes it hard not to.

Before you can say more, he interrupts. “Let me guess — you’re still an engineer. Just doing the mom-engineer thing now. That’s no small feat.”

You blink, caught off guard by how perceptive he is. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I know a thing or two about multitasking. Running a company and saving the world — it’s basically the same as raising a kid, right?”

You laugh despite yourself, relaxing a little. He’s not what you expected. Less distant, more… human.

“Sure, except your robots actually listen to you,” you quip, and Tony grins.

“Most of the time,” he admits. “So, any chance I could take a look at that rocket project? I’ve got a thing for fixing ‘booms.’”

Your heart skips again at the casual offer, but before you can reply, Lily pipes up, bouncing on her toes.

“Can we, Mommy? Please?”

You glance between her eager face and Tony’s amused expression. This is surreal. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at both of you — like he’s actually interested, not just humoring a fan. Like he sees you.

Maybe this isn’t a bad idea after all.

As you walk beside Tony Stark, weaving through the crowd, you can't quite believe what's happening. This kind of thing doesn't happen to people like you. Yet here you are, with Lily practically skipping ahead, chattering excitedly about rockets and robots, while Tony listens with genuine interest.

“So,” he says, glancing sideways at you, “what’s your theory on the combustion failure? Too much fuel or not enough stabilization?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden technical question. You’d been bracing yourself for more of his charm or sarcasm, but here he is, actually engaging with you on a deeper level. You’re impressed, though it makes sense—he is Tony Stark, after all.

“Stabilization, mostly,” you reply, falling into a rhythm of conversation. “The design was sound, but we didn’t account for the weight distribution. It shifted mid-launch and threw everything off.”

He nods thoughtfully, like he's analyzing every detail. “Classic mistake. I had a similar issue with one of my early suits—though, you know, a little less ‘mini rocket,’ a little more ‘metal suit crashing into a building.’ Same basic concept, though.”

You laugh at the mental image, feeling a bit more at ease. “Yeah, I imagine the stakes were a little higher for you.”

Tony shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, let’s just say property damage and I have a complicated relationship.”

Lily turns around, walking backward as she looks up at Tony with wide eyes. “Did you blow up a building?!”

He grins, glancing down at her. “A few, but mostly on purpose. Don’t try that at home, kid.”

Lily giggles, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She’s clearly in awe of him, and it’s hard to blame her. You feel a bit of that awe yourself, though you’re trying not to show it.

“So, where’s this rocket of yours?” Tony asks, glancing around like he's half-expecting it to pop out of nowhere.

You clear your throat, feeling a bit sheepish. “Oh, um… it’s back at our apartment. We didn’t exactly bring it to the expo. I wasn’t expecting to run into… well, you.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing more pronounced. “What, you don’t carry failed rocket prototypes everywhere you go? Amateur move.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Tony taps his chin, pretending to think hard. “Tell you what. Why don’t you two swing by my place later? I’ve got a full lab, and I’m sure we can find something that won’t blow up—at least not right away.”

Your heart skips at the offer. Is he serious? Inviting you to Stark Tower like it’s the most casual thing in the world? You glance down at Lily, who’s looking up at you with pleading eyes, clearly hoping you’ll say yes.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying not to sound too shocked. “I mean, we wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Tony waves a hand dismissively. “Intrude? Nah. Besides, I’ve been meaning to show off my new toys to someone who actually appreciates them. Kids are way better at that than most adults.” He glances down at Lily, then adds with a wink, “Plus, I’ve got juice boxes.”

Lily practically jumps up and down. “Mommy, can we go? Please, please, please?”

You hesitate for a moment, weighing the surreal situation. But something about Tony’s easy demeanor, the way he’s connected with Lily, and even the way he’s made you feel comfortable makes it hard to say no. It’s not every day you get a chance like this, and you know Lily will talk about it for weeks if you turn it down.

“Alright,” you say, giving in with a smile. “I guess we’re going to Stark Tower.”

Tony grins, looking genuinely pleased with your answer. “Great. Let’s make it a field trip.”

🚀

An hour later, you find yourself walking through the sleek, high-tech halls of Stark Tower. The whole place feels like something out of a futuristic movie, and you can’t help but feel a little out of place. But Tony, ever the showman, makes sure neither you nor Lily feel that way for long.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says with a grand gesture, like he’s introducing you to some royal palace. “I was going for ‘modest,’ but you know, things escalated.”

Lily’s eyes are practically bugging out of her head as she looks around, taking in the shiny surfaces, the impressive tech displays, and the overall coolness of the place. “This is so cool,” she breathes.

You can’t help but agree. “Yeah, this is… incredible.”

Tony leads you both to his lab, where holograms flicker in the air, and sleek machines hum quietly in the background. It’s every bit as impressive as you’d imagined—maybe more so. He walks over to a workbench, tapping a few buttons on a console until a holographic blueprint of a rocket hovers in front of him.

“Alright, kiddo,” he says, crouching down to Lily’s level. “Let’s see what we’re working with. Tell me about your rocket.”

Lily beams, launching into an enthusiastic explanation of her project, complete with wild hand gestures. Tony listens intently, nodding at all the right moments, occasionally throwing in a comment or suggestion.

You stand back, watching the two of them interact. It’s surreal, seeing Tony Stark—the Tony Stark—so genuinely engaged with your daughter. He’s patient, encouraging, and—despite his usual sarcasm—there’s a warmth in the way he talks to her that catches you off guard.

As Lily finishes her explanation, Tony stands up and looks over at you. “Sounds like you’ve got a real prodigy on your hands.”

You smile, feeling a swell of pride. “She’s pretty special, yeah.”

Tony taps his chin thoughtfully, then flashes you a grin. “You know, I don’t usually offer internships to five-year-olds, but I could make an exception.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe in a few years.”

“Fair enough,” Tony replies, still grinning. “But seriously, if she ever wants a tour of the lab—or you do—just say the word.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by the offer. “You’re full of surprises today.”

Tony shrugs, nonchalant. “What can I say? I’m a generous guy. Plus, I like hanging out with people who don’t try to sell me on their latest ‘groundbreaking’ invention every five minutes.”

The three of you spend the next hour tinkering with the rocket design. Tony gives Lily some gentle guidance, teaching her a few tricks of the trade while making sure to keep things light and fun. You can tell she’s having the time of her life, and honestly, so are you. You’ve never seen her this animated, this confident.

As the afternoon winds down, Tony walks you both back to the lobby, hands in his pockets, his usual easy smirk back in place.

“Well, that was fun,” he says. “I’ll have my people send over the specs we worked on. Maybe next time, we can tackle world domination.”

You chuckle. “I’ll let you know if we’re free for that.”

Tony winks at Lily, who’s practically buzzing with excitement. “And hey, kid—next time you’ve got a rocket that goes ‘boom,’ give me a call. We’ll fix it together.”

Lily grins, waving enthusiastically. “Okay! Bye, Iron Man!”

As you leave Stark Tower, you can’t help but glance back at Tony one last time. He gives you a casual wave before turning back toward his lab, and you can’t shake the feeling that today was more than just a chance encounter.

It feels like the beginning of something. Something new. Something… different.

And you can’t wait to see where it goes.

🚀

Over the next few weeks, your life takes on a surreal, almost dream-like quality as Tony Stark begins to weave his way into your world. What starts as a few casual meet-ups, mostly centered around Lily’s fascination with all things tech, turns into something much more.

The first time he invites you both back to Stark Tower, it’s under the pretense of helping Lily with her latest invention—a robot that she’s determined to build from scratch. You sit back, watching as Tony patiently explains complex concepts to your five-year-old daughter, all while making it fun for her. There’s a tenderness in the way he interacts with her that surprises you. Tony Stark, the world-renowned billionaire with a reputation for being difficult, is kind and patient with a child, in ways you never would have expected.

You’re impressed, of course. But more than that, you find yourself drawn to the man behind the Iron Man persona.

It starts with little things. The way Tony catches your eye when Lily says something particularly cute or brilliant, the small smirk he gives when he knows you’re trying to hold back a laugh. He makes a habit of throwing sarcastic comments your way, but you soon realize it’s his way of flirting—teasing you in that playful, witty way he’s known for.

"You know," he says one afternoon while you’re watching him help Lily with a mechanical arm for her robot, “I think I deserve some kind of award for this. ‘Best Teacher to a Mini-Engineer.’ Maybe a medal. Or a statue.”

You smirk, folding your arms across your chest. “Oh, absolutely. I’m sure the world’s been waiting for a bronze Tony Stark to grace Central Park.”

He grins, that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “I knew you were smart.”

It’s in these small moments that you find yourself opening up to him. You’ve always been independent, not allowing yourself to lean on anyone for help, but Tony’s different. He’s been through his own struggles, carried his own burdens, and while you’re still cautious, you find comfort in the fact that he gets it. He doesn’t judge you for being a single mom or for the sacrifices you’ve had to make. If anything, he admires it.

"Raising a kid and working as an engineer?" he says one night over dinner—yes, dinner. He’d invited you and Lily over for what he called "a Stark special," which turned out to be takeout pizza and some ridiculous dessert made by his AI assistant. "That’s a superhero gig right there."

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m pretty sure saving the world in a metal suit still beats making school lunches and fixing leaky faucets.”

“Hey,” Tony says, his tone light but serious, “you do both. No suit needed.”

That night, when you leave, you find yourself thinking about him long after Lily has fallen asleep. There's something about Tony that lingers. Maybe it's his charm, or maybe it's the way he looks at you like you’re more than just a mom balancing a million things—like he sees the person you were before all the responsibilities took over.

As time passes, the two of you fall into an easy rhythm. You, Tony, and Lily have your little routine now, with frequent visits to Stark Tower becoming almost a weekend tradition. What surprises you most is how seamlessly Tony has integrated into your life—and not just with Lily. He asks about your work, your passions, the things you’ve had to put on hold since becoming a single mom. He pushes you to take up some of your old engineering projects, even offering his lab space if you ever want to tinker.

“You could use the space when I’m not around,” he says one evening, nonchalant as ever. “There’s always room for another genius around here.”

You laugh it off, though your heart skips a beat. “I’m pretty sure one genius is enough.”

Tony arches an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “You’re right. With you here, we might be over capacity.”

As the weeks turn into months, you realize you’ve grown used to having Tony around. He’s no longer just the famous billionaire who showed up at a science expo one day. He’s become a friend, someone you can talk to, someone you can rely on.

But there’s more to it than just friendship. You feel it in the way your heart flutters when he leans a little too close during one of his sarcastic quips, or the warmth that spreads through your chest when he smiles at you—really smiles, with that soft, almost vulnerable look in his eyes. You find yourself looking forward to the moments when it's just the two of you, standing on the balcony of Stark Tower late at night, talking about everything and nothing while Lily sleeps soundly in the guest room.

One evening, after one of those long, late-night talks, something shifts. You’re standing on the balcony, the city skyline stretched out before you, the cool breeze brushing your skin. Tony’s beside you, quiet for once, just watching the city lights. There’s a rare stillness about him, and you feel the weight of it, like he’s on the verge of saying something important.

“You know,” he says after a long pause, his voice quieter than usual, “I didn’t expect this.”

You glance at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He turns to face you, and for a moment, he’s not the confident, sarcastic Tony Stark. There’s something raw in his expression, something vulnerable. “This. Us. You and Lily.” He swallows, as if the words are difficult for him. “I’ve spent so much time being Iron Man, or the guy who fixes problems, that I forgot what it’s like to just… be with someone. To care about people who aren’t expecting me to save the world.”

Your heart skips. His honesty catches you off guard, but you can tell it’s not something he shares often. And suddenly, you realize that you feel the same way.

“You’ve been… different for us, too,” you admit, your voice soft. “I wasn’t looking for anyone, and definitely not someone like you, but…” You trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence. How do you explain that Tony Stark has become more than just a fixture in your life? That you’ve started to fall for him, for all his quirks and complexities, for the way he’s seamlessly become part of your world?

Before you can find the right words, Tony steps closer. His eyes hold yours, that familiar spark of mischief still there, but tempered with something deeper. “I think,” he says, his voice low, “you and I are a pretty good team.”

You smile, feeling the weight of what’s unspoken between you. “Yeah,” you whisper. “We are.”

And then, without another word, Tony leans in. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But when your lips meet, there’s a spark, an electric current that runs through you both, confirming what you’ve known for a while now.

This is real. This is something worth holding on to.

🚀

The decision to make your relationship with Tony Stark official doesn’t happen in a single moment—it’s a gradual shift, one that feels inevitable after months of stolen glances, lingering touches, and nights spent talking on his balcony. But when it does happen, it’s perfect in its simplicity.

It starts one morning in his penthouse, a few months after that first kiss. You’ve been spending more time there, with Lily (who Tony affectionately refers to as "the little genius") practically making his lab her second home. The three of you have fallen into a comfortable rhythm, a little makeshift family that somehow feels like it’s always been meant to be.

On this particular morning, you wake up tangled in Tony’s sheets, the warmth of his body pressed against your back, his arm draped lazily over your waist. You turn your head slightly, smiling to yourself as you hear the soft hum of his breathing. For a man who seems to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, he looks surprisingly peaceful when he sleeps.

As you shift to move, Tony tightens his arm around you, pulling you back against him with a sleepy grumble. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You chuckle, your voice hushed in the early morning quiet. “Trying to escape before your little apprentice wakes up.”

He groans, burying his face in your neck. “Let her tinker. She’s practically running the lab anyway.” His lips graze your shoulder as he speaks, and you feel a familiar spark of heat ripple through you at his touch.

“You’re terrible,” you murmur, though there’s no real bite in your words. You’ve gotten used to Tony’s brand of affection—playful, but with an edge of intensity that never fails to make your heart race.

“Mmm, terrible, but irresistible.” His voice is still thick with sleep, but there’s a hint of mischief in it, the same mischief that always makes your pulse quicken. He shifts slightly, his hand trailing from your waist down to your thigh, fingers brushing lightly against your skin in a way that’s both teasing and possessive.

You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze. His eyes are half-lidded, but there’s a familiar hunger there that sends a thrill of anticipation through you. “You’re definitely full of yourself,” you say, though your voice is softer now, breathier.

Tony’s smirk grows, his hand slipping beneath the sheets to pull you closer. “And you love it.”

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours, and any thought of protest melts away in the heat of the kiss. His hand grips your thigh, pulling your leg over his waist as he deepens the kiss, the familiar intensity building between you. It’s slow at first, a lazy sort of desire, but it doesn’t take long before you’re both lost in each other, the rest of the world fading away.

Later, as the sun filters through the curtains and you’re both tangled together in the sheets, a comfortable silence fills the room. Tony’s fingers are tracing absent patterns on your arm, and you can’t help but smile at how natural it feels, how easy.

“Have you thought about… telling people?” you ask softly, your head resting on his chest.

Tony raises an eyebrow, though he doesn’t seem surprised by the question. “Telling people, as in the media?”

You nod, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. Being with Tony Stark comes with a certain level of exposure, and while you’ve been okay with the low profile you’ve kept so far, part of you wonders what it would mean to go public.

Tony is quiet for a moment, then he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. “Hey, I don’t care what they say out there,” he says, his voice firm but gentle. “If you want to keep things private for now, we can do that. But if you’re asking if I’m ready to go public…”

His thumb brushes over your cheek, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Your heart flutters at his words, warmth blooming in your chest. “I don’t care about the media,” you admit. “I just… I want to make sure we’re ready. That Lily’s ready.”

Tony’s expression softens at the mention of your daughter. “Lily’s already got me wrapped around her finger. I’d be more worried about how I’m going to survive that.”

You laugh, but the sincerity in his words brings a lump to your throat. Tony’s relationship with Lily has grown in ways you never expected. He’s been patient, playful, and completely devoted to her. And seeing them together has only deepened your feelings for him.

“Okay,” you say finally, smiling at him. “Let’s do it. Let’s go public.”

When the news breaks, the media goes into a frenzy. The headlines scream about “Tony Stark’s New Flame,” and “Iron Man’s Mystery Woman.” Paparazzi photos of you and Tony walking hand in hand through Central Park with Lily are splashed across every tabloid and news outlet.

To your surprise, the response is largely positive. While some outlets speculate about Tony’s past relationships and his infamous bachelor reputation, most seem genuinely intrigued by the idea of Tony Stark settling down, especially with someone who isn’t from the celebrity world.

The tabloids nickname you “The Genius and the Heart” and seem fascinated by how “normal” your life is compared to Tony’s glamorous lifestyle. There are articles praising you for balancing being a single mom with your engineering career, while others focus on Tony’s softer side, now that he’s seen as a father figure to your daughter.

You try to ignore most of the noise, but Tony, of course, has fun with it. One morning, you catch him scrolling through a gossip site, shaking his head in amusement.

“They think I’m domestic now,” he says, pretending to be offended. “I mean, can you imagine me, Tony Stark, settling down with a family?”

You roll your eyes, sitting beside him on the couch. “You do realize you’re proving them right by reading that, right?”

He grins, tossing his phone aside before pulling you into his lap. “Let them think what they want. I’ve got everything I need right here.”

The moment you realize how much your relationship with Tony has changed comes one evening when you’re back at the penthouse after a long day. Tony’s in the kitchen with Lily, helping her with a science project that’s somehow turned into an impromptu baking session. The sound of Lily’s giggles fills the space, and you’re watching them from the doorway, a warm smile on your face.

Tony’s crouched down, talking to Lily as they decorate cupcakes—his version of “science.” You’re about to step in and join them when you hear it. Lily looks up at Tony, eyes wide with excitement, and says, “Can I put the sprinkles on, Daddy?”

Your breath catches. It’s the first time she’s ever called him that, and for a moment, you freeze, unsure how Tony will react.

But Tony doesn’t miss a beat. He smiles, ruffling her hair and handing her the sprinkles. “Go for it, kiddo. Just don’t get too carried away.”

Your heart swells, a mix of joy and disbelief washing over you. Lily’s words hang in the air, and when Tony glances up at you, there’s a softness in his expression that takes your breath away. He’s not just playing a part—he’s become a part of your life in ways you never imagined.

Later, when Lily’s asleep, you and Tony find yourselves curled up on the couch, the weight of the day settling into a comfortable silence. You rest your head on his chest, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm.

“She called you ‘Daddy,’” you murmur softly, still processing the moment.

Tony’s hand tightens around yours, his voice quiet but filled with warmth. “Yeah, she did.”

You glance up at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but all you see is a man who has found his place—who has chosen to be here, with you and Lily.

“Are you okay with that?” you ask, your voice a little unsteady.

Tony looks down at you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “I’ve never been more okay with anything,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m all in. With both of you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but they’re tears of happiness, of relief. You reach up, cupping his face as you pull him into a kiss—slow, tender, and filled with all the emotions you’ve been holding onto for so long.

When you finally pull away, Tony brushes a thumb across your cheek, his smile soft but full of promise. “So, what do you say? Think you can handle me as part of the family?”

You laugh, your heart feeling light. “I think we’ve been handling you just fine.”

And as you settle back into his arms, you know that this—this—is exactly where you’re meant to be. Together. A family.

Forever.

okay, this was so cute to write <3 I love writing Tony as a softie, because I know deep down he is one.

544 notes · View notes

eufezco · 11 months ago

Text

HOW DID IT END?

How is it that Steve's departure only drove you further apart? How was it possible that the only thing left between you after all was hatred for each other? Maybe these questions could be answered in a therapy session or in a night together.

bucky x fem!reader (angst, smut with plot, lovers to enemies to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

—James, condition of your release, session now.

You looked at Bucky and he looked back at you, pressing his lips together and starting to walk after his therapist, annoyed.

—You too, young lady.

—That's okay, I can wait here with Sam.

—It wasn't a request. Sam, you have front-row seats for the show if you like—. The demanding tone in her voice surprised you and you had no choice but to follow her.

The therapist sat down at the table and opened her notebook. You and Bucky were at the other side of the table, sitting next to each other and in front of the woman. You didn't look at each other, you had not even shared a word. Sam, who was leaning against the wall behind the therapist, looked at both of you and shook his head. Steve was right when he said that you were both equally stubborn.

—So, who would like to start?

—I don't even know what I'm doing here. This is ridiculous.

—Yeah, I agree —. Bucky added.

—See? Making progress already —. She waited a few seconds to see if either of you would like to talk but you and Bucky remained silent. Dr. Raynor sighed, if it was already difficult to deal with him alone, it would be twice as difficult to deal not only with Bucky but also with a copy of him as a woman. —It is my job to make sure you're okay. And yeah, this may be slightly unprofessional but it's the only way that I can see if you're getting over whatever's eating at you.

You huffed a laugh and Bucky rolled his eyes. Whatever's eating at you? What could possibly be eating at you? There was nothing that-

—So, why don't you both start by telling me what kind of relationship you had with Steve Rogers?

Your expression changed completely when you heard his name. Bucky looked at you out of the corner of his eyes, Sam's eyes also went to you as he tensed his back when Dr. Raynow brought Steve up out of nowhere. Bucky decided to start talking but you couldn't hear what he was saying, you could only focus on how tense your jaw was, the knot in your stomach, and all the anger you were feeling.

Just as it was a relief for Bucky to think and talk about Steve, it hurt you. There was never anything romantic about your friendship with Steve, it was purely based on your devotion to him and your mutual admiration and respect.

When you lost Bucky and Steve crashed into the ice, you had no reason to live but before your heart stopped beating, Howard Stark found you and injected you with the serum. And when you woke up there was only Steve, seventy years later and just as confused as you, living in a century that did not belong to you.

You were together during the whole process of readjusting to your new lives. For Steve, you joined a group of people who called themselves the Avengers and fought against the god of mischief in New York. For Steve, you were almost killed by a robot in Sokovia. For Steve, you fought the Winter Soldier. For Steve, you sided against Tony Stark, the son of the man who brought you back to life, and for Steve, you fought, lost, fought again, and won against Thanos.

They say there is no worse heartbreak than that caused by a friend and Steve Rogers stole a piece of your heart when he left.

—Thank you, James. What can you tell us about Steve? —Dr. Raynor asked you.

You shook your head, your eyes fixed on one spot. The feeling of betrayal when Steve didn't return within the five seconds set by Bruce still haunted you. —I will never forgive him.

Bucky shook his head as well, he turned to look at you. —You know, Dr. Raynor? I've met her for more than seventy years now and one thing that hasn't changed about her is how selfish she is.

—James, we are not here to make value judgments about the feelings experienced by the other person.

The condescending tone in Bucky's voice made you close your eyes and take a deep breath before you talked. —You were captured by HYDRA, tried to kill us, then went into cryogenic sleep and disappeared with the snap. I don't expect you to understand what I'm going through since you never lost Steve because you never had him.

—He was my best friend! —Bucky raised his tone and turned in his chair to look at you.

—You don't even remember a single thing of him before he became Captain America!

Sam called your name. That wasn't Bucky's fault.

—He left because that was the life he fought so many years for! That's the life Steve deserved!

—He was my best friend too! We were together all these years while you were killing people and I had to watch him go! —You did the same as him. That was the first time you looked at each other since the session started and you were yelling at each other. Sam didn't miss any part of the argument, he was with his arms crossed and paying attention to everything you were saying to each other. How could two people who had loved each other so much end up like this?

—Okay, that's enough —. The doctor stopped you before it went any further. You and Bucky rested your backs on the chair again, defeated, and your eyes focused on the therapist. —Since this isn't working, we're going to do an exercise. It's something I use with couples when they're trying to figure out what kind of life they wanna built together —. The doctor added. Bucky rolled his eyes and you closed yours while shaking your head.

—You are acting as if you were never a couple —Sam said.

—Back in 1940.

—Yeah, eighty-two years ago.

You both said at the same time.

—Come on, turn around, look at each other.

Both of you hesitated for a few seconds but finally turned to face each other. His blue eyes were fixed on yours, it was difficult to keep eye contact with him.

—The exercise is called Everytime I look at you and consists of saying something that you feel or see in the other person every time you look at them. Why don't you start?

As you looked at Bucky, you could see the young soldier, wearing his new uniform proudly and hanging a copy of his dog tag around your neck. Looking into Bucky's eyes you felt again the last kiss he gave you before falling from the train, you heard his last laugh before he was brainwashed by HYDRA, you could even feel the caress of his fingers on your skin before the vibranium covered one of his hands.

—Every time I look at you, you have that lost puppy look on your face, asking for people's sympathy. I can't even look at you because every time I do, your mere presence reminds me that Steve's no longer here and it makes me want to fucking die, and sometimes I wish-

Sam called your name and you stopped talking before you could finish the sentence. Bucky's eyes never left yours. You were saying all that to his face.

—Let her finish, Sam —. Dr. Raynor said.

There was a silence.

—And sometimes I wish you were gone instead of him.

As Bucky looked at you, he could see the young lady he fell in love with even though everything he remembered about her was gone. The sparkle in that girl's eyes could no longer be found in yours, but he couldn't forget how your eyes shone as he wrapped his arms around your waist to dance. Bucky did not forget the sound of your laughter when he told you that he would marry you after the war, even though he was totally serious.

—Every time I look at you I don't recognize you. You have changed for the worse and I'm not sure if I like this version of you. You are mean, you don't allow people to get close to you and you hide and say that it's Steve's fault for leaving. But let me just say...

Bucky could see how you dealt with sadness by turning it into anger, he knew it because he did the same thing. Your jaw tightened and you closed your fists so hard that your fingernails dug into the palms of your hands. You didn't want him to say it, but at the same time, you couldn't wait to hear it.

—... that being a bitch isn't going to bring him back.

As soon as Bucky finished the sentence, you got up from the chair and left the room slamming the door. He didn't react to you leaving, he just sat in the chair asking himself the same question as Sam. How did you come to this? How could two people who had loved each other so much end up like this? Sam tried to go after you but he could not keep up with your super soldier speed so he went back to the police station with Bucky and gave him the same look of disappointment that Steve would have given him.

That same night someone knocked on your front door.

You thought it would be Sam because he had been calling you nonstop since you left and you had been ignoring him all day long but when you opened the door, you found Bucky instead.

He took a step closer to you to go inside your house and your hand connected firmly with his cheek. The skin on his face burned right where you had hit him and your body was blocking the doorway. He was just as angry as you were so he gave you a strong push on your shoulders. You managed to keep your balance and he managed to get inside the house and close the door behind him.

Bucky towered you with a challenging attitude, keeping eye contact while forcing you to take a few steps backward. You, despite being shorter than him, did not lower your head. Your breathing was heavy, the tension was too much, you wanted to hit him again and you wanted to say worse things to him than what you said in the therapy session.

When you raised your hand to slap him again, he grabbed your arm with his vibranium hand and squeezed hard enough for it to hurt but you did not give him the pleasure of expressing the pain. The tension was overwhelming. There were only two ways to solve this, either he would let go of your arm and start a fight that wouldn't end until both of you were on the floor exhausted and bleeding, or...

Your bodies collided as you pressed your lips together. Bucky held your face with both hands while his lips devoured yours as your hands pulled on the hem of his shirt. He lifted his arms so you could take it off and in that moment you took a few seconds to admire his well-defined abs. He leaned in for another kiss but you pushed him by his shoulder, strong enough for his back to hit against a wall of your house and crack it. Before he could complain, you connected your lips with his again.

Bucky's fingers closed around your neck as a response. Your mouth opened against his lips, trying to get the air that he was keeping from reaching your lungs and Bucky's tongue went pass your lips.

You took a big breath of air once he let go of your neck and he began to unbutton your jeans. He would never admit it but he made sure that you were okay and that he had not taken it too far, especially when your hands went to his shoulders to keep your balance due to the dizziness. And when Bucky thought he had control over you, your fingernails slid painfully from his shoulders to his abdomen and he groaned.

Bucky threw his head back against the wall once your finger sneaked into his jeans and wrapped around his cock. You moved your hand cruelly slow, he had his eyes closed as he bit his lower lip to hold back his moans. You ran your tongue along his collarbone until you reached his earlobe. —I fucking despise you —. You whispered in his ear. He let out a moan and immediately clenched his jaw again. You felt his hips thrust into your hand.

—Fucking same, doll —. Bucky muttered through gritted teeth.

He brought his hands to your ass and squeezed it as he helped you to wrap your legs around his body. Your lips met again as he walked you to the big wooden table in your living room where he helped you to lie down. Bucky pulled his jeans down enough to free his hard cock while you opened your legs to him. He noticed the wet spot on your panties and you noticed the red marks that your fingernails had carved on his chest. As he pulled your panties to the side, your fingers ran over those marks and Bucky hissed.

The head of his cock was more than enough to stretch you open. You repositioned yourself at the table, now sitting up on your elbows to watch as he pushed himself inside of you. You thought he would give you a few seconds to get used to the feeling, but he didn't stop until he was balls deep inside you.

—Now you take it. Make it up for that attitude —. You whined at his words and Bucky rested his forehead against yours while his hips thrusted into yours.

You encircled your legs around his waist and hooked your ankles over the swell of his ass while he kept slamming his hips into you. At that point you couldn't even think straight, he was hitting all the right spots to make your mind foggy. His pace remained fast and hard, and you thought about the serum running through your veins and how you both could keep up with that pace all night long.

Bucky tucked his head into your neck and whispered the filthiest words into your ear, his hands were on your thighs, squeezing your flesh lustfully, he pulled his dick all way out and then pushed in again until his balls were against your pussy. Your fingers tugged his brown hair at the root, getting moans from him because of your tight grip as it encouraged him to fuck you even harder. If that was how hating you felt, he wanted to hate you for all eternity.

When he heard you moaning and whimpering uncontrollably, when your legs fought to close and squeezed his body, when he felt your nails digging into the skin of his back, Bucky pushed your legs up, hooking your legs over his shoulders, and kept fucking you in that position until it became harder and harder for him to keep going because of the tightness of your pussy. You came screaming his name and spasming around him, Bucky came a few seconds later, with a deep groan that made his chest vibrate and emptying himself inside you.

The next morning, when his alarm went off, Bucky was alone in your bed. He took his time to take a shower and grab something from your kitchen for breakfast before he left. Bucky walked to his therapist's office, trying not to give much importance to what happened last night and especially trying not to think about all the horrible things you said to each other earlier that day in front of Sam and Dr. Raynor.

When he entered the office, Dr. Raynor was not alone. Bucky almost apologized and closed the door again, thinking he interrupted someone's session, but then you turned around in your chair and looked at him. He looked back at you, surprised, from the doorway.

You were already inside, now it was up to him to decide whether to go in with you. Bucky didn't have to think about it, he closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair next to you. You wanted to give yourselves a chance, for your sake, for Steve's sake, and for trying to get back what you two once had.

—Let's try again, shall we? —Dr. Raynor asked with a smile.

783 notes · View notes

chrisisvbun · 5 months ago

Note

Can I request a male reader x Bucky Barnes. One that is super angsty/fluffy. Bucky and reader like one another but they never really tell one another because things/people interrupt them. One day Bucky goes on a mission, he comes back super late. Bucky Goes to readers apartment and reader spends the whole night patching up Bucky and making him feel better. Like getting a warm bath to help him relax. Bucky was scared of never seeing reader ever again. Maybe one of them confesses?

a/n: I love it everyone send requests I love em :(

cozy night. bucky barnes x male!stark!reader.

synopsis: after your dad, tony stark, passed away, it's your job to run the company since you are the eldest kid. but going through grief and working isn't easy, you fortunately got bucky by your side ever since you started, which lead to some confusing feelings and a lot for tension between you to, that seems to never conclude in anything due to multiple interruptions.

cw: angst, death (tony's) (i teared up a bit), mention of young pregnancy, fluff, reader has a Cuban mom, slightly described reader, bucky being the sweetest, lots of tension, friends to lovers, bucky being soft and vulnerable, alcohol, anxiety, blood and scars, nudity (non sexual), flirting.

words: 2.8k

You sighed as you kept typing on your computer, a slight frown on your light brown forehead as you checked the enormous pile of papers next to you, while your glasses slightly fell through the bridge of your nose.

A knock on the door slightly called your attention, a loud “come in” came out of your throat. And that sweet, soft “Hey” made the noise on your ears shut, as your attention went completely to Bucky.

It didn't matter if you were tired, burnt out or just having a shitty day, Bucky’s single presence in your office always made you smile.

“Hi.” You smiled sweetly, which made him smile too.

“Just wanted to check on you, it’s getting really late.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, I should call it a night.” You sighed, removing your glasses and rubbing your eyes. Bucky’s expression softened.

“Need a lift? We could grab a beer if you want.” He asked, trying to sound casual.

You sighed again. “I would love to, but Happy is picking me up with Morgan in like… ten minutes.” You glanced at the clock, your face softened at the sight of Bucky’s disappointed look. “Maybe another time, Buck.”

“Whenever you want.” He smiled, understanding. “I’m gonna head home, but text me if, for some reason, you finish early, and want to grab that beer.”

“I will. Go home, Barnes.” You smiled lovely, he smiled back.

“You too, Stark.”

After Bucky left, you began to close everything up on the top office of the Stark Tower. You took a look at your clock to check the time, 9:27 pm.

You sighed and looked at your phone, Happy confirmed that he was on the parking lot with your young sister, you smiled at the picture he sent you fo her watching through the window of the car, waiting for you.

You got into the Avengers during the blip, you lived in Connecticut with your mom, a Cuban woman that had become a mother really young, and one of the many who disappeared during the blip. One of those nights when you began to miss her, you began to check the boxes that she always hid in the basement, where you found that your father’s last name was Stark. Apparently, Tony Stark had an adventure with your mother when both of them were younger, a one time thing, that unfortunately -even though your mom says the opposite- lead to her getting pregnant at nineteen years old, in 1989.

When you found out, you managed to get in touch with the Stark Tower, and found where he was staying, only to find his new life, his new wife and daughter. Even though your mom and him weren’t nothing more than a one-night-stand, it hurt you to see how great he was doing aside from the general blip situation, where you were struggling emotionally and economically, not just during the blip but all your life.

Apart from the shock of finding out he had a son, he couldn’t have been happier about meeting you. You talked for almost a day, and he, for the first time, seemed interested in someone else rather than himself and his daughter. He asked about you, about your mom, your studies, your life in general. And you couldn’t blame him, he didn’t know, and at that moment, you believed him when he told you that, if he had known, he would've stayed. You wanted to keep believing that. And he even made you your own suit.

You went with him to find the infinity stones, you fought with Thanos to save him. And when the words “I’m Iron Man” came out of his mouth, you saw the man you had began to call your father, and who now had passed.

“No, no, no, not now. Not now, please.” You sobbed, grabbing his hands, he weakly looked at you. “JARVIS, his vitals.”

But you didn’t even try listening to the voice, you saw his eyes and his slight smile and knew, you knew like you’ve known him all your life.

“Dad, please… I want to know more, please, don’t- Dad-” Your voice cracked more, trying to hold him more only to be removed by Steve. “Dad, please!” You sobbed as Steve held you, trying to make you calm down.

You fell to your knees watching his life leaving his eyes, only crying louder, thinking what are you going to tell Morgan.

“Hey, kid.” Happy made you snap out of your thoughts. “Hey, you alright?” He asked, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah,” You swallowed the knot of sadness in your throat and smiled. “Where is she?” You looked around, and the answer jumped right to your back, making you complain of the sudden hit.

“Big bro!” Your sister hugged your neck from behind. You laughed and moved her around to grab her in your arm, rubbing her hair.

“Hey there, little devil.” You teased.

The night was great, you went to a simple diner, together, ate cheeseburgers as you caressed your sister’s hair. You smiled as you looked down at her asleep in your arms, seeing your dad all over his factions. He looked more like him, you were more like him. But looking at her made you feel a pang of protectiveness and affection that you’d rarely ever felt. He was the best thing your father left you, and the cutest and the softest.

“Can’t we have a sleepover?” Your sister pouted as you began to climb out of the car.

“Morgan…” Happy began to scold her.

“It’s okay, Hap.” You smiled at him. “Maybe during the weekend, alright? a day where I don't have to stay really late and wake up really early” You smiled as she nodded. You gently leaned in and rubbed her little nose with yours, leaning your forehead against hers. “I love you 3000.”

Your sister giggled and smiled. “I love you 3000.”

(...)

A knock on the door called your attention again, and you smiled once Bucky got in your sight.

“Barnes.”

“Stark.” He smiled. “What are you up to?” He nodded at your computer, you sighed.

“Some meetings I need to have with investors, taxes, boring shit.” You shrugged.

“Sounds like heavy shit.” You nodded. “So… In order for you to relax, wanna, you know, grab that beer?” He smiled, leaning against your desk.

You smiled and were about to answer, about to say yes and finally do it. Finally go out with him, have a decent date. But your phone rang.

You sighed. “Sorry.” You said with honest guilt, but that faded when he gave you a knowing smile.

You grabbed the phone, starting with the usual greeting until you got serious. “I’ll be there in a minute.” You hung up and rubbed your face, standing up.

“Hey, hey.” Bucky put his hands on your shoulders. “What 's wrong?”

You sighed and he put you against his chest, soothing you before you spoke. “My mom, she is having problems with the house but she doesn’t want to move out, and the idiot that wants to buy the house to make a building came again, apparently, and they are… I don’t know, making a fucking mess.” You pulled away from his embrace. “I’m really sorry, Buck-”

“Don’t you dare to apologize.” He smiled while ruffling your hair. “It’s alright, we’ll get to it some time.”

After fighting with white dudes and defending your mother, at eleven o’clock you finally got home, and after getting changed and ready to bed, you called Bucky.

“Yeah?”

“Barnes, hey.” You instantly smiled when heard him, and you heard how he huffed a smile too.

“Stark, it’s good to hear you this happy.” He teased slightly.

You chuckled. “I just… heard you and got happy.” You said with a slight shy tone.

“You are gonna make me blush, handsome.” He said sweetly. “What’s going on?”

“No, nothing, I just- Are you still down for that beer? Maybe tomorrow?” You said, again in that shy tone, making Bucky chuckle.

“I would love to, doll, but you see, I just got a notification that I have a mission.”

You huffed, frustrated. “Are you kidding me?” You whined.

Bucky laughed at your whiny tone. “It seems like we will never get to it, do we?”

“Don’t say that, idiot…” You giggled.

“I’ll pick you up after the mission tomorrow, alright? I’ll text you.” Bucky said casually, your heart skipped a bit and you smiled stupidly.

“Yeah, yeah… that sounds great.”

The day after that call felt light like a feather, you had a smile on your face all day long, even during long meetings that did nothing but bore you. The last paper you signed and you clocked out for the day, excited to head home and get ready for the night that was about to finally happen.

So you waited, long hours with your outfit that you had been thinking about since the day before. You began to wonder if he would ever come, if he wanted this date as much as you did. You began to think it wasn’t the case, the mission should had finished hours ago, and he simply wasn’t there.

You were about to head to the bar by yourself, but as you waited outside your apartment, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

"Barnes." You answered in a tone that was a mixture of coldness and concern.

"Stark, I'm sorry, but I won't be able to make it." His voice was strained, and you heard the unmistakable sound of pain in the background.

"What happened?" You asked as you felt a sting of guilt in your heart.

"Mission went sideways. I'm okay, just… need to take care of the scratches." He assured you, but his voice was laced with exhaustion.

"I'll be right there." You said without a second thought, not letting him answer or deny.

When you arrived at his place, you found Bucky leaning against the wall, his shirt stained with blood and his eyes filled with relief at the sight of you. Without saying a word, you helped him inside. You grabbed the first aid kit and some clean towels, your hands shaking slightly as you approached him.

"Let me do this." You said, kneeling down to remove his boots.

He nodded, wincing as you gently peeled his shirt away from his skin. The wounds weren't deep, but they were numerous, a testament to the fight he had just been in. You worked meticulously, cleaning each cut and bruise with gentle strokes of the cloth, your eyes never leaving his.

"Thanks." He murmured, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat every time your hands brushed against his skin. "It's what friends do."

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. "Yeah," He said softly, "it is." He knew what you meant.

You patched him up in silence, sitting on his couch as you cleaned his small wounds. You moved up to close the small cut on his brown, Bucky winced slightly, gripping your thigh slightly. “Sorry.” You said low. “Don’t be.” He smiled weakly, his hand caressing your thigh gently.

After you patched him up, you got the chance to notice how his whole body was covered in a layer of sweat and dirt.

“Wait here.” You stood up and left for the bathroom, and after some minutes, you peeked through there. “Can you walk here?”

He nodded and approached, he entered the bathroom, covered in steam, the tub filled with warm water. “I’ll help you get undressed.” You said. He was so tired, he just slumped on the toilet with a groan and nodded. With gentle touches you removed his clothes, with nothing but affection and care. You pulled down his pants, his socks, his shirt, and looked up at him, silently asking if you could remove his pants, at which he nodded weakly.

You removed his boxers, not even wanting to check anything in him. You helped him in the tub, and he shivered at the contact of the warm water. “Too hot?”

He shook his hair. “It’s perfect.” You smiled at him gently.

You went to the kitchen and came back with two cold beers opened, passing him one to him.

He looked up, his icy blue eyes softened at the sight of you offering him a drink, he almost wanted to cry. Your family and him already had a story, not the best one, and he didn’t want that to be relevant, but at the same time, there was something that made him want to push you away, to avoid rejection, because if you didn’t want him if you didn’t crave him as much as he did, he wouldn’t be ab;e to do it, to move on from you. But the idea of being away from you physically hurt him, just thinking about not crashing in your office once in a while, seeing you smile, making you blush, making you laugh. He dreamt about that cute face of yours every single night.

He grabbed the beer and both of you took a long sip, one of your hands moved to scratch his scalp while sitting in the edge of the tub. He rested his head on the side of your thigh, sighing, relaxed, happy.

“This wasn’t how I thought our date would go.” Bucky said.

You giggled. “Date?” He blushed and hid his red face on your leg, making you laugh again. “If you told me it was a date before, I would’ve postponed everything in my agenda.”

“Oh, c’mon, you could tell.” He complained, you laughed again and drank from your beer.

“Well, if this is our date, i’m having a great time.”

“Really?” He looked up at you.

“Yeah. I mean, I get to have a drink with a naked handsome man.” You laughed, he chuckled against your leg.

“Yeah, I guess you are right.” He smiled, looking up at you.

“You still in pain?”

He was about to tell you the truth and say no, because that was the reality. His muscles were relaxed due to the warm water, so all the pain was already long gone. But he decided to lie a bit.

“Actually, no.” He huffed, sitting in the tub.

“You have any pain killers here?”

“Mm, yeah.” He kissed your cheek. “But maybe, just maybe, if a pretty boy kissed me, my problems would get solved.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and followed along with his little game. “What a shame, we don’t have any pretty boys here.”

He chuckled and grabbed your jaw gently, turning your face to him. He pressed his lips into yours in a soft kiss, but also a really brief one.

“Well, I guess you are one, because I’m not in pain anymore.” He smiled over his lips.

You rolled your eyes with a playful smile. “You are an idiot.”

“You adore me like that, Stark.” He pecked against your lips repeatedly.

“Hell yeah I do, Barnes.”

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #captain america and bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x male reader #the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #tfatws

188 notes · View notes

sserpente · 1 year ago

Text

A/N: I’ve been meaning to write this for so long. If you’re in the mood for some angst, you’re in the right place!

Words: 1743 Warnings: angst, poisoning

You didn’t know what hurt more. Was it the fact that the man—god—you had fallen for was on the brink of death, taking his last breaths? Or was it the very circumstance that no one but you cared?

Tony Stark had been very clear about it. He tolerated Loki only per Thor’s humble request. The God of Thunder himself was less than pleased that the Trickster was to serve his sentence on Earth of all places. It was Odin’s magic that restricted him, keeping him from causing even more mayhem after the chaos he unleashed in New York City.

They were even less delighted about him joining their self-proclaimed superhero group on missions even though Thor himself claimed that Loki’s wit and skills could prove useful.

You had nothing to say in the matter of course. If anything, you were declared crazy because you had expressed your affinity for the God of Mischief and that included Loki himself.

You couldn’t help it. The way he smirked, the way he talked, the way he sat in the corner buried in a book—one of the very few instances you ever saw him relaxed, not to mention the occurrence with the cat… oh, the cat. A stray—black and white, young, purring and dancing around Loki’s feet, desperate for his attention. And when he’d bent down to pet it and even conjured some food for it, it was the last piece of evidence you had needed to conclude that this man was not evil. Misguided, betrayed, hurt? Yes, all of those things and more. But not evil.

It was the latter. The very circumstance that no one but you cared hurt more.

Thor had left for Asgard already, seeking the advice of their healers. It was ridiculous, truly. In a life-threatening emergency like this, how could his banishment still hold any weight? He needed help.

Your enemy had been thorough, researching each and everyone’s greatest weakness. And Loki’s had proved the most fatal. Whatever the extra-terrestrial had coated their weapon in before it fired its arrow at the God of Mischief, it prevented him from healing, had him break out in a sweat and slowly lose a battle against the poison now spreading in his body.

“Loki? Can you hear me? Please stay with me. You got to stay awake, alright?” He was on the sofa, with his head placed in your lap. You stroked his forehead in an attempt to soothe him. Blue eyes found yours and you were unsure whether he wanted to tell you to stay with him or let him die in peace. You’d been singing to him too. Trying to keep him in the present, in the now.

By the time Thor finally burst back into the room, Loki’s breathing had become dangerously shallow.

“Did you tell them about the symptoms? What did they say? What’s wrong with him? How are we gonna heal him?” The questions gushed out of you like a waterfall before he’d even set his hammer down.

Thor, however, grew silent for a moment. “There… Loki was poisoned. The rat knew what he was doing. The arrow was likely infused with blood from a Memphis of Muspelheim mixed with a deadly dose of mistletoe essence.”

You put one and one together immediately. “So… you’re saying this poison was specifically made to kill a Frost Giant?”

Thor looked down. “Yes.”

“Well, did you bring the antidote then?”

“There… there is no antidote. Not on Asgard. And I fear… there is no time to search the realms. The Jötuns have spent millennia destroying every last drop of this poison. There is hardly any antidote left.”

Your heart sank. No… no! You were not going to let Loki die!

“There has to be a way. Somewhere we can…” Your lips parted. “There is somebody. Someone who has everything. You mentioned him before, you said you brought the Aether to him!”

“The Collector?”

“He has it. He must have it.”

“What, and you think he will give it to you without anything in return?” Tony said.

“I didn’t say that. I’m sure we can offer him something in return to make it worth his while.” You turned back to Thor. “Heimdall can take us there. Please, Thor. This might be our only chance.”

Perhaps you should have been surprised that the God of Thunder relented. There was no doubt he too wanted his brother to survive. The entire time you’d been preparing to leave, Thor was brooding and lost in thought. He wasn’t one for big words—but he cared and for the moment, that was good enough for you.

The Collector’s place was dimly lit, eerily quiet and… it smelled awful. You took a deep breath regardless and gave a nod to Thor to venture forth.

“An Asgardian. And… a human?” The Collector tilted his head when you stepped into view. “What an… honour. What brings you to my humble domain?”

“We need your help. We’re looking for something rare. Thor’s brother Loki is Jötun and he’s been shot with an arrow drenched in a rare poison.”

“Hmm… yes, I’m familiar.”

“There is no antidote. If… if anyone has any left, it must be you.”

“So it must be… I do indeed have this antidote you speak of.” Your face lit up but judging by the Collector’s body language—a smug and repulsive expression, truly—he was not going to give it up easily.

“Surely, your Asgardian friend has told you of how the Jötuns have ensured every last drop of this poison gets destroyed. There was a need for an antidote no longer. The bottle that I have in my collection is… an antique, almost.”

“Fine,” you spat. “What do you want in return?”

“You see… I’ve never had a human in my collection.”

Your eyes widened, lips parting to respond.

“No!” Thor roared.

“Then I am afraid we have reached a dead end.”

“She’s not an object to be collected, she’s a person!”

“Thor!” Gnashing your teeth, you turned to him and took a deep breath. “It’s fine. Just take the antidote to Loki, alright?”

“No. There has to be another way.”

“Take the damn antidote to him, Thor!”

“I cannot let you do this.”

“You can and you will. He’s your brother, Thor! And I’m…” I’m in love with him. Heavens, was that stupid? Loki didn’t even know. It was absurd, wasn’t it? To sacrifice your own life in this way to see the God of Mischief live another day?

Yes. It was. But it… it felt like the right thing to do. Loki deserved another shot. A chance to redeem himself, to show the world that he was more than he let on. And a chance to have the damn world apologise to him, too.

“Tell him… tell him to live his best life, okay? Tell him… tell him not to be too harsh on himself. To… to love himself.”

“To love himself?” Thor frowned.

“Shut up and listen. Loki hates himself, don’t you see that? He hates what he is, he hates what he’s become. He hates himself. And you all played a part in that.”

“Why would you do this… for him?”

Your lips parted. “Tell him… tell him I fell for him.” There. You’d said it. But it didn’t matter anymore whether he’d reject you, right? You’d be here, wherever here was and Loki would be back on Earth, recovering. You’d never have to face his reaction after your confession and yet, he could live with the knowledge that he was not, in fact, so terrible, that no one could love him beyond a family bond like the one he shared with Thor.

“I… fine. I will. Mark my words, I will come back for you,” he added quietly.

You nodded. Was there hope? Possibly. Possibly not. But you did not doubt for a second that your sacrifice was worth it.

You didn’t know how many days had gone by since Thor’s departure. One? Three? Ten? There was no sunlight in this place, no clocks. One of the Collector’s lackeys made sure to feed you regularly at least, other than that… you were on your own, caged in a pretty glass box until he figured out what to do with you. Unless of course… he was just going to keep you on display like this like the maniac he was.

If you didn’t know better, you would have asked him for a book. Surely he had some in his collection. It was boredom and solitude that would drive you mad sooner or later, that much you were sure of.

Every sound nearby became more interesting than the next. The cracking of the metal tiles, the flapping of wings of the caged bird opposite your own stupid box, the ruffling of clothing whenever you moved… a massive explosion forcing everything in its vicinity several feet into the air. Wait, what?

Your eyes widened and you stood. Were you under attack? Oh heavens, no, you didn’t want to be killed inside of a glass box! Would there be another explosion? What if the cage broke and you bled to death because of the shards piercing your body?

Chaos erupted, yet the Collector was nowhere to be seen. A scream escaped your lips when with a start, a figure appeared right before your cage, remnants of green shimmering light enveloping them whole. It took you a moment to realise that it was Loki.

“My… that is quite the predicament you have landed yourself in, pet.”

“I… w-what? Loki… you’re alive, you’re fine. What are you doing here?” Unable to process what was happening, you inched back when the God of Mischief broke the lock and opened the cage for you to climb out. Electricity rippled through you when he took your hand in his.

“Rescuing you, of course.” His sly smirk had you gasping for air as you leaned against him. Your knees and legs hurt from having to sit for so long.

“Thor told me what you did.”

“Did he also tell you…”

Loki nodded. Without another word, he leaned forward and stole a chaste kiss, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“Come. The others are waiting on the ship. And then, my dear, I shall show you the proper Asgardian way of courting a woman.”

You smiled, relief flooding your entire body as he picked you up and carried you home.

605 notes · View notes

captinamericashusband · 9 months ago

Text

Sober Thoughts | Steve Rogers/Captain America x Stark!Male!Reader

REUPLOAD A/N: Hi. It is currently 12:41 AM – another restless night unfortunately sigh. After watching a YouTube video of someone reading the infamous Harry Potter fanfiction My Immortal (I love you Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way), I became filled with unbridled inspiration to write something of my own. Anyways, enjoy! Also this is the very first fanfiction I’ve ever written. Please please please (by Sabrina Carpenter) give constructive feedback that won’t be too harsh on my little soul. This’ll be a fluffy fanfic. I'll dabble in smut later on maybe if y'all enjoy this enough...teehee. Happy BRAT summer/autumn 💚

P.S. Any errors you see will be excused by the fact English is not my first language and NOT because I suck at writing and revising ;) This fic will also be posted on Ao3 after they accept my invitation. Pls let me in Ao3.

Sober Thoughts

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: Y/N gets very drunk in front of Steve

Warnings: Alcohol, profanity

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Being the son of Pepper Potts and the eccentric billionaire, playboy and philanthropist (in that exact order) Tony Stark came with its fair share of drawbacks. While financial security was a given for Y/N, a side that came with this coverage was endless PR events. Being the sole heir to the Stark company, Y/N was forcefully thrusted into the public eye at a very young age, constantly forced to appear at social gatherings for the general public to gain somewhat of a perception of him – hopefully for the better. Today was one of these socially exhausting days, and perhaps his least favourite event of all – the annual ‘Stark Gala: proceeds going to various charities!’ A boring name he is very well aware of, and yes the ‘proceeds going to various charities’ line was annoyingly part of the title – something he had so valiantly fought Tony on, albeit unsuccessfully.

The gala starts in 2 hours. Currently, in stereotypical Stark fashion, Y/N lay sedentary on his bed, staring at the ceiling whilst pondering for ways to escape the tiring event. Amidst his angsty mood, a knock arose from his door followed by Tony entering his room.

“Hey bud, no more moping around,” he said after flipping the light switch in Y/N's room, “gala’s not gonna dance itself.”

Y/N turned and laid on his belly, eyes stuffed into his pillow in an attempt to suppress the bright lights, “What if I just don’t come, dad? Just chalk my absence to a cold for the press, please. I have no will nor strength to do this.”

“You know you can’t do that, Y/N/N. The public requests you grace them with your holy presence at the gala.”

“Dad, what if I just set fire to the venue?”

Tony scoffed at his son's comment. “Don’t bother with that sassy attitude, kid. It’ll be over in a flash. Just enjoy, grab some drinks – and hey you might even find yourself a nice date there.” He said, adjusting a frame on the wall. “My best advice is mingle until your mouth falls off – my dad used to say that to me.”

As Tony continued slightly tidying Y/N's room, a muffled groan erupted from his pillow. Y/N knew he was very well right; there was no escaping. Resigning to his fate, he abruptly stood up from his bed and began rummaging through his closet. “Fine. I’m going because I want to go, not because you’re forcing me to.”

Tony chuckled and ruffled Y/N's hair. “That’s the spirit, champ. I promise you these things can be fun if you let them. Soak up the atmosphere. And enjoy the drinks.” He then murmured, “Just not too much, as well ‘cause…you know.”

Tony’s sudden shift in tone was in reference to Y/N's relationship with alcohol. While Tony was notorious for being able to hold his liquor, the alcohol-tolerance gene had unfortunately not been passed down to his son. The last time Y/N drank, which had been at Clint’s birthday party, he had somehow woken up inside of a dumpster – not even exaggerating. Another time, he had taken a plane to Washington and found himself passed out on a bench outside the Pentagon – also not a hyperbole. Aware of this knowledge, Y/N planned on getting absolutely wasted in order to pass the time and to make the night somewhat memorable.

Y/N ran a hand through his hair attempting to fix it whilst looking for proper attire. “Yes, yes I know, father figure. Do you promise it won’t be boring like last year?”

Tony feigned an offended look, putting his palm against his chest. “Boring? There was an open bar and a chocolate fountain – all appearing again this year, by the way. What more could a man ask for?”

“To not come.” Y/N said begrudgingly.

“Okay well sometimes certain things can’t be provided, sugar plum.” A grimace found itself on Y/N's face after hearing the nickname. Before he could respond, Tony was already halfway through the door. “Anyways, be ready by 8; we’re leaving at 8:30 sharp.”

------------------------------------

The night was, to say the least, already an absolute dread. Upon arriving at the upper-echelon-esque museum where the gala was being held, Y/N was already drained. After exiting the limousine that took both him and Tony to the museum, a torrent of camera flashes had blinded Y/N. Furthermore, before even entering the museum, a news reporter had shoved a microphone into his face and asked a very invasive question about his lovelife. Before Y/N could insult the reporter’s rude behaviour, Tony quickly grabbed his arm and ushered him into the museum.

It was very well aware by the public of Y/N's choice of abstaining from dating, never really having any serious relationships. This was especially questionable for the public considering who his father was, with everyone believing Y/N would’ve followed in lieu of his behaviour during his 20’s.

However, what the public didn’t know was that the reason for Y/N's singleness was because of one of his dad’s blonde colleagues (that wasn’t Thor). Y/N's crush for Steve Rogers AKA Captain America had simmered for the last few months. It began during an incident in the Avenger’s Compound in which the inherent Stark idiocy had decided to bite Y/N severely in the ass.

------------------------------------

It had been late at night and Y/N had been tinkering on some project in one of Tony’s spare workshops in the compound when his phone suddenly rang. Picking it up, he saw Tony was calling him. He paused the music blaring in the workshop’s speakers before answering his dad.

“Hey bud, I have a favour to ask.”

“What is it, father figure?” He set down a screwdriver he was holding down on the workshop table.

“First, you know I hate it when you call me that. Second, there are some files that were delivered to my office that need to be put into storage in the room beside the training area. Would you mind doing it for me?”

“And why can’t you get Happy or yourself to do it?”

“Well I am actually currently at dinner right now with your mother and we are having a blast right now, and Happy is enjoying a paid holiday in the Bahamas.”

With an overexaggerated sigh, Y/N hung up on Tony and accepted without further question.

Heading towards Tony’s office, he marvelled at the emptiness of the Avenger’s Compound. While he never interacted much with the Avengers, only in passing, he was aware that some of them were nightowlers. However, there really was no one. Usually, there would be at least a SHIELD agent somewhere, but tonight the building was completely desolate.

Upon arriving at Tony’s office, Y/N immediately noticed the large boxes propped on his dad's desk. He had clearly underestimated the sizes of the office boxes, with one he (very dramatically) guesstimated being the size of his torso’s length with a width of a baby whale. Unfortunately for him, there were 5 boxes in total. Being the impatient ass he is, he had decided to carry all of the boxes in one go to spare himself having to return to Tony’s office for a second trip. He noticeably struggled and after leaving Tony’s office, he immediately regretted his decision, wishing he inherited more of his mother’s patience. From a bystander's perspective, it was a comical sight seeing Y/N Stark carrying a tower of boxes almost twice his height.

After rounding a sharp corner – something that could’ve been easily avoided considering the size of the building’s hallways – Y/N crashed right into another person. Y/N, along with the boxes, crashed loudly and painfully against the cement floor.

"Shit," Y/N said out loud. The embarrassment from the predicament was too much for him, so he opted for keeping his eyes on the ground, seemingly becoming very interested in the flooring's designed patterns. He stayed in that position, wallowing in his shame until the other person he had forgotten about spoke up.

"Sorry about that, kid." A low and husky voice spoke above Y/N. Y/N moved his eyes from the floor to the other man in the hallway. He was met with piercing blue eyes and a head of light blonde hair. Great. Not only had he embarrassed himself in front of someone, but that certain someone had to be Captain America of all people. Flashing the best smile he could conjure, Y/N stood up from the floor in an attempt to save as much face as possible.

"No, no, it was all my fault Steve," Y/N chirped. Wow, he sounded like a complete wimp. Not only that, but he called Captain America by his actual legal government name. Y/N did not consider himself close enough to call Captain America Steve. The situation was further going off the rails as they both stood in an uncomfortable silence for what seemed like forever. Suddenly, Steve spoke again, breaking the suffocating air of awkwardness.

"Need help with those." Steve said, smiling slightly at Y/N. Thinking back on it now, it was definitely the smile that got Y/N hooked into Steve. With a curt nod, both of the men started cleaning the mess of files. "Do these need to be in a specific order?" Steve questioned. Quite frankly, Y/N did not care for the files' order; he was much more preoccupied with the strange feeling down in his stomach. He slapped himself internally before answering Steve.

"I'm not sure actually. The person reading these can decipher that themself." Steve chuckled at his words. An actual, genuine laugh. Y/N found whatever he said to not be as funny Steve was making it out to be. But nevertheless, good job Y/N! You made Captain America laugh at something you said! After tidying the files, the two of them started walking, Y/N in the lead with Steve following in his stead.

"Where to, Stark Jr.?"

"The storage room by the training grounds."

The walk to the files' designated area was filled with silence – not uncomfortable like before, but instead a somewhat pleasant quiet. Deciding to be bold, Y/N asked Steve a question.

"What do you do all day?" Wow, Y/N didn't intend on that sounding as rude as it did.

"What do you mean?" Steve responded.

"Like, what do you do when there isn't a mission where you have to save the world or anything." Great save, Y/N said to himself.

"Well, if there isn't a mission I usually train in the gym – nothing bad in doing some extra training. Other than that, I usually visit SHIELD's headquarters to do business that I'm sure you're not interested in hearing about." He turned and smiled at Y/N after saying the last part. The strange feeling was there again.

"That honestly sounds like a miserable existence." Y/N said. Steve laughed and Y/N smiled, proud of himself for making Captain America laugh a second time this night. "Do you have any actual free time at all?"

"The only time we get to ourselves are weekends. I typically go for jogs in the morning then catch up on any work I didn't get to finish from the weekday. By the time I finish, it's already pretty late at night." As Steve continued to talk, Y/N couldn't help but sneak glances at him. Y/N had noticed a smile was etched on Steve's face and he wondered if it was because Steve enjoyed his company or if he was merely entertained by their topic of conversation. "If I have any time to spare, I like to draw. I've started taking painting classes recently."

Y/N debated on whether or not to make a joke about Steve's work and him not "finishing" fast enough, but thought it was too weird even for him. "Wow, even on your day off your life sounds bland – aside from the drawing part I guess." Steve had laughed once more at what Y/N said, and Y/N silently applauded himself once again.

Steve's smile persisted despite Y/N's slight insult to his daily life. "My turn to ask. What do you do all day? I never see you around that much."

"That's 'cause I'm usually cooped up in a lab somewhere doing tech stuff I'm sure you're not interested in hearing about." Steve chuckled again. "If I'm not doing techy stuff, then I'm usually doing boring paperwork for Stark industries. And if I'm not doing that, I'm sleeping peacefully in my bed."

"Now I'm offended by you calling my life bland when yours’ is equally as boring, Y/N," Steve joked.

"It'd be more exciting if you were in it." Oh Y/N, what exactly are you saying now? Suddenly, the signature Stark flirtiness accumulated within Y/N as the next words left his lips. "You should join me on my bed sometime." Oh sweet Jesus. Even Y/N himself shriveled from pure disgust at what he just said. It wasn't even a remotely good pickup line. He fully expected Steve to bolt away as soon as possible and leave him behind with the behemoth-sized boxes.

Before Steve could respond, the pair found themselves in front of the storage room. Steve opened the door for Y/N who could only mumble a quiet thanks in response as he was still shaken up from his earlier misspeaking. Finding a secluded table in the room, Y/N set down the boxes with Steve following in suit. The two then exited the room and found themselves in yet again another uncomfortable silence. Before Y/N could hurriedly escape, Steve spoke.

"You should get out of your lab more. I'd like to see more of you around if that's possible." Upon hearing that, the feeling from earlier was present again in Y/N's stomach except it had been exponentially stronger this time. "I enjoyed talking with you, Y/N."

It was as if Y/N had lost any inkling of social awareness as he said his next remark. "You'd practically have to pry me off a workbench with those big arms of yours, Steve."

Steve only laughed in response, clearly somewhat amused by Y/N's bold eccentricity. "I'll see you around, Y/N." Steve started walking away before suddenly turning around with a smirk on his mouth. "Oh, and I'll take you up on that earlier offer."

------------------------------------

Ironically enough, Y/N and Steve have yet to converse with each other again after their brief encounter. This was mainly due to Y/N avoiding Steve after having said his embarrassing comments – especially about Steve's arms, something Y/N can't help but gag at upon reflection. Looking back at their moment together, Y/N can only sigh and hope the super soldier forgot about his humiliating behaviour.

Looking around the museum, Y/N stared in awe at the inside's appearance. The building itself had replicated the architecture and grandeur of Ancient Greece, with large columns on the building's interior and exterior. While the building itself was an architectural beauty, what really stood out were the floral decorations garnered around the room, both on the tables surrounding the middle of the museum designated as a dance floor and hanging in between the interior pillars. Y/N had to remind himself to find his mother later, who arrived hours earlier to help decorate, and commend her keen taste in floral arrangements.

Y/N's moment taking in the interior decor was interrupted when he was approached by Tony and a stubby man wearing a suit. Tony introduced the man to Y/N who turned out to be one of Stark Industries' business partners. Nothing notable was said in their conversation aside from numbers and Y/N's vision for the future of Stark Industries. This was how the first half of the night went: Tony introduced Y/N to one of his business partners, boring conversations about logistics would ensue, Y/N was asked about his ideas on Stark Industries' future – rinse and repeat. After numerous runs of this seemingly perpetual cycle, Y/N's social battery had been absolutely drained and Operation Get-Drunk-And-Pass-Out was set in motion. Excusing himself from Tony's presence, Y/N ran a beeline towards the bar, his stride swift with determination to get his hands on anything alcoholic.

Taking a seat at the bar, Y/N began thinking about what he would drink. Suddenly forgetting every alcoholic beverage that ever existed, he waved down the bartender to get his first drink of the night. "I'd like whatever will get me the most piss-faced, please." The bartender simply gave him a cordial smile and nod before pouring a single clear liquid into a small shot glass. He then gave Y/N the glass who before drinking said, "bottoms up." The mystery liquid was absolutely repulsive and scorched Y/N's throat. His face puckered up in pain, eyes shut as tears formed at the brim of his ducts. "Jesus, dude, what is this!?"

"Everclear." The man answered with a very thick Russian accent. Y/N had no idea what that was nor was aware of its very high alcoholic percentage, almost being pure alcohol. What he did know was the vile taste and painful burn signified it was able to get him 100% wasted.

"I'll take 10 more of those, please."

------------------------------------

At shot four, Y/N's vision had started getting blurry, his lips and skin felt tingly, and he kept laughing at the most nonsensical things to laugh at. His drunkenness was made very apparent for everyone at the bar when he pointed towards someone's poorly trimmed goatee and laughed maniacally at it. While his actions had been in poor-taste and he was making a grand fool of himself, Y/N could care less as he revelled with his newly acquainted friend, Everclear.

Before downing shot number five, a man had approached and sat beside Y/N and began ordering. To his surprise, Captain America in the flesh had situated himself beside him at the bar. Knowing Y/N's already embarrassing encounter with him sober, only God knows what was about to ensue between the two of them while he was intoxicated.

“Enjoying the night, Mr. America?” Y/N slurred.

“Clearly not as much as you, Y/N.” Steve responded. He was currently sporting a classic black and white tux with a dark blue tie. His attire, while as basic and stereotypical as they come for a formal event, suited him perfectly. Being the idiot Y/N was while drunk, the spike of confidence that surged within him caused him to comment on Steve's appearance.

Y/N leaned towards Steve, getting very close in his personal space, then saying, “apologies, Captain, but you sure do look ravishing if I do say so myself. I’m proud to be an American.” Y/N giggled at himself while Steve looked at him with an amused expression.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re flirting with me, Y/N.” Steve said, flashing his captivating smile. Y/N stared at him with dazed eyes before leaning back and downing his fifth shot of liquid courage.

"Maybe I am flirting with you, Steve. That's what I was doing last time we talked in case you didn't realize."

"Yes, you were quite subtle the last time we spoke." He said sarcastically. He took a sip of whatever he ordered from the bar before continuing. "Speaking of, I've been meaning to talk to you ever since that night, but I could never get a hold of you."

Y/N laughed, not knowing if Steve actually knew why he hasn't seen him since or if he really was oblivious. "Well, Steve, I was avoiding you because I made a fool of myself the last time we talked." A hiccup came out of Y/N's throat. "And then I said to myself, 'Steve probably thinks I'm weird so I'll avoid him to prevent any further embarrassment'."

"Well, I really did enjoy our conversation last time, Y/N. I mean it."

Similar to their last encounter, a wave of deafening silence consumed the pair's conversation, the awkward tension causing Y/N to become slightly sober. Fortunately for him, the alcohol was still very much prevalent in his bloodstream, giving him enough confidence to break the awkward silence.

"Sometimes I wish I could just run away – leave this life behind and escape to some deserted island.” Y/N glanced towards Steve who was already looking at him. "It's too much at times – this life."

"It would be easier if you had someone with you for the journey."

Y/N looked at him, feigning an incredulous look. "Are you implying with your word choice, manner of speaking and overall cadence that you want to be that person for me?" Y/N laughed, scoffed was more like it. "I'd say you're the person flirting with me, Steve."

Steve chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving Y/N. "Maybe I am, Y/N."

Y/N could only stare at him as his heart skipped a beat. Perhaps it was the alcohol messing with his senses and disposition, but his usual wit was gone and he was speechless – a rare moment for Starks. Noticing his hesitation, Steve leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a near whisper.

"Y/N, you don't have to go through this life alone. I've seen through your father how hard it can be for someone in your position. But you don't have to bear it all by yourself."

"Do you really mean that, Steve? Or are you just saying all this because I'm drunk and pathetic." Y/N's voice wavered, the confidence he had during their last encounter was noticeably absent.

Steve reached out, placing a hand on Y/N's shoulder. "I've noticed you, Y/N. Even though we haven't talked much, I can already tell you're a special person. You're more than just Tony Stark's kid. There's something unique about you. And I want to get to know you more."

The butterflies Y/N felt during their last encounter returned and did pirouettes in his stomach. "I don't know what to say, Steve."

"You don't have to say anything right now. Just know I'll be here and I won't be leaving anytime soon."

Y/N looked at Steve, a whirlwind of emotions torpedoing inside of him. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel so alone. The confidence suddenly returned and a smile braced itself on Y/N's face. "Are you technically asking me out?"

Steve only laughed in response before standing up and saying, "I can take you home now if you want."

Y/N quickly stood up. "Oh yes please, Steve. Another minute in here and I think I'll have an aneurysm." As the two started walking, a sudden wave of a burdening reminder of his father's presence washed over Y/N. "Wait, I can't leave – dad said I-."

Before Y/N could finish, Steve quickly interrupted him. "I think everyone here, including Tony, can see you're in no condition to be here any longer."

Y/N could only nod, too exhausted to protest. As they exited the building Y/N's head grew heavy, and it gently fell onto Steve’s shoulder. Steve tensed for a moment, then relaxed as his arm slowly wrapped around Y/N’s waist, pulling him closer. “Take me home, Steve,” Y/N mumbled softly against his shoulder, his breath warm against Steve’s neck.

"That's what I'm doing right now, Y/N." Steve said softly.

------------------------------------

After exiting the building, Steve hailed one of the idle limousines across the museum. He had to carefully slide in Y/N's body before sliding in beside him.

The ride back to the Avenger's Compound was quiet and tranquil, a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the earlier evening. Steve glanced at his watch - it said 3:33 AM - then turned his gaze towards Y/N's sleeping body leaning against the car window. A small dribble of saliva was escaping the corners of his mouth, and Steve quietly chuckled.

"I can feel you looking at me. Cut it out."

"Unfortunately, I can't seem to stop my eyes from lingering on things I find beautiful." Y/N could only blush at Steve's unexpectedly sappy words, unaware the super soldier had it in him to be a corny romantic.

"You're no better than any other man, Steve Rogers," Y/N teased, though his voice was softer than before. Steve smiled, but was interrupted by a loud yawn erupting from his mouth. Abruptly, Y/N sat up straight from his slouched position, suddenly remembering something in his drunken haze. "You know, you still have yet to cash in on my offer, Steve."

"You mean your offer to be in bed with you?" Steve asked, his tone in between amusement and curiosity.

Y/N eagerly nodded. "I wouldn't mind if that happened tonight."

Steve's head turned at a concerning speed that definitely would've given a normal person severe whiplash. He gave Y/N a stern yet somber look, one that carried warmth with a reprimanding undertone behind it. "I'm not going to sleep with you, Y/N. I mean, you're drunk and that would be me taking advantage of you – I'd like to think you expect better from me."

Y/N blinked, looking both very offended and embarrassed. "That is absolutely not what I meant, Steve, you naughty man!" He crossed his arms and sunk into the limo's soft leather seats. "I meant that it would be nice if we just laid and went to sleep together...I just don't want to be alone tonight."

Steve's expression softened immediately, understanding the vulnerability behind Y/N's words. Their eyes met, a silent agreement shared between them, filling the rest of the ride with warmth from their comforting connection.

As the car grew quiet again, Y/N, emboldened by the last remnants of alcohol in his system, threw one more cheeky remark towards Steve. "But you would have sex with me, right?"

Steve laughed, his head shaking, but the tenderness in his smile spoke volumes. "Get some rest, Y/N. We'll talk in the morning."

------------------------------------

Y/N stirred awake in his bed, his eyes wincing as the harsh rays pierced through a gap between his bedroom curtains. His head pounded, and a wave of nausea met him immediately. Unable to fight it, Y/N ran to his bathroom, purging the contents of last night's festivities in his toilet. It was quite a horrid sight.

After what seemed like hours, Y/N exited from his bathroom, wanting to get more sleep. Stumbling back to his bed, he noticed the large body-shaped mound from underneath his blankets. Frightened, he approached it cautiously, scared of the idea of having drunkenly slept with a stranger.

Slowly uncovering the body, Y/N was met with the peaceful sight of a sleeping Captain America. Steve's chest rose and fell steadily, lips parted as he took even breaths. Then, the events of the previous night came rushing back to him like a semi-good dream and Y/N mentally facepalmed himself. However, while he internally scolded himself for his embarrassing behaviour, he also congratulated himself for having been somewhat successful in his endeavours of pursuing Steve.

Laying back down gingerly beside Steve, Y/N grabbed his phone from the nightstand. The time was 11:11 AM and Y/N silently made a wish to himself. He noticed he had received 10 missed calls and nearly 50+ messages from his dad. Thinking it was regarding his early leave from the gala, Y/N decided to deal with his father later, still exhausted from the night before. Opening Twitter (he refused to call it 'X'), Y/N's eyebrows furrowed as he saw his name trending alongside 'Steve Rogers' and 'Captain America.' A knot formed in his stomach and he decided to Google his name. The urge to puke suddenly returned as he was met with a news article reading:

‘Hottest New Couple in NYC?! – Captain America & Y/N Stark Seen Seen Getting Cozy During Annual Stark Gala’

Below the headline was a picture snapped of Steve and Y/N at the bar, Steve leaning closely towards Y/N as both shared very flirtatious smiles towards each other. Y/N groaned loudly, causing Steve to stir awake. Today was going to be PR hell.

FIN

A/N: This actually took multiple days to write and while rereading it it's actually really corny? But, fanfic writing is actually kind of fun, I might do it more. Anyways, hope you enjoyed :) Also sorry for any mistakes I'm too lazy to revise

160 notes · View notes

moonlit-imagines · 2 months ago

Text

warnings:

a/n: i wrote this on a plane from memory bc i didn’t have wifi to fact check on fandom wiki LMAO

not requested

Sharon’s conversion with Steve was cut short by a radio to her headset. “Agent Carter, we have a…young person claiming to have information on the whereabouts of the terrorist that bombed the UN building.”

“Well then, send them up. What are you waiting for?” Sharon insisted and waited at the elevator for your arrival. The Avengers privvy to this information all patiently waited in the office, and were surprised to be greeted by a teenager. “This is Y/N Zemo.”

“My father is the bomber—” You blurted and were quickly cut off by Tony Stark.

“Like we know who your father is.” He retorted.

“Yeah. I was getting there.” Your quick backtalk silenced the room. “His name is Helmut Zemo, my family was killed in Sokovia and ever since…he’s been on this mission to destroy you all.”

“You said you knew his whereabouts?” Steve asked politely, not wanting to be snapped at like Tony was.

“He’s here. With Bucky Barnes.” You revealed.

“You should have started with that!” Sharon yelled just as the power went out and the Winter Soldier was activated. “Shit. Stay here!”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

#avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel #sharon carter imagine #steve rogers x reader #tony stark x reader #helmut zemo x reader #steve rogers imagine #sharon carter x reader #tony stark imagine #helmut zemo imagine #zemo!reader

70 notes · View notes

nicoline1998enilocin · 3 months ago

Text

The Only One For Me || Part 2

PAIRING || Boyfriend! College Student! Young! Tony Stark x Girlfriend! College Student! Female! Reader

WORDCOUNT || 11.4K

SUMMARY || Life with Tony as your boyfriend has been a dream, and now you're both getting ready to take your relationship to the next level. After that night, you feel like a different person, and you're happy to have shared this moment with him.

RATING || Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS || College AU. No powers AU. Young! Tony Stark AU. Established relationship. Sexual tension. Explicit sexual content.

SMUT || Virgin! Tony. Virgin! Reader. First time. Hand job. Oral (M&F receiving). Unprotected sex (Reader is on birth control). Fingering. Teasing. Praise. Dirty talk. Hair pulling. Back scratching.

A/N || This story has been requested by my best friend and the most amazing person on earth, @ccbsrmsf1! I wish you the happiest birthday today, bestie, and many more beautiful years. I love you and look forward to working on more stories for and with you in the future! 🤍

A/N 2.0 || I want to thank the sweet @mostly-marvel-musings for proofreading this story and lifting it to a new level! I appreciate you so much, and I'm forever grateful 🤍

EVENTS @elixirfromthestars Elixir’s Cinema || I burn for you… + I do… I need you. + “Kiss me.” @fandom-free-bingo Frosty Edition || Teasing @fandom-free-bingo Maritime May Edition || Brushing their hair + First meeting@julybreakbingo Post-JBB || Fear of rejection

All the graphics in this post are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || The Only One For Me || Part 1 || Part 3

The past month has been a blast, as you get to spend as much time as possible with your best friend, Natasha Romanoff, her boyfriend, Bruce Banner, and your very own boyfriend - the tall, muscular, sweet, and shy Tony Stark. From the moment you were on your first date together, you two have grown even closer, and now he’s getting ready to meet you for dinner to celebrate your one-month-anniversary. For the past few weeks, he’s been planning to ask you to go to the upcoming spring dance with him, and tonight will be the night to pop the question.

“Are you sure she will like this?” Tony asks as he stands in front of his life-size mirror, trying on the third outfit as he’s deciding on what to wear. Bruce sits comfortably on his desk chair and looks over at his best friend, trying to assess if the outfit he’s wearing now is the one as his brows furrow.

“Hmm, maybe you should go with lighter jeans instead,” he offers, and Tony lets out a small sigh as he swaps out his black jeans for a pair of light blue ripped jeans. Though it’s not something he wears often, he’s willing to give it a shot, and it’ll go well with the jacket he plans to wear for the night. Once your boyfriend is back in front of the mirror, he smiles as he looks approvingly at the outfit Bruce has helped him put together.

“Glasses or contacts?” he then asks, holding up his glasses as an option.

“Definitely glasses; you know she always goes wild when you wear them, right?”

Tony’s cheeks turn bright red at his best friend’s remark, and a soft ‘okay’ slips from his lips before he puts them on top of his head and walks into the bathroom to switch his contacts for the glasses. You’ve mentioned a few times how sexy and adorable he looks when wearing them, and it will always be a deadly combination for you and your entirely ruined panties in the best way possible.

While Tony is taking his time to get ready, you’re doing the same for the dinner he has invited you to. Your outfit is laid out on the bed after Natasha has put it together with pieces from both your closets, and all you need to decide on now is which shoes to pair with them. However, this is definitely causing a debate between you and your friend.

“I promise you that I’ll be much more comfortable in my boots than your heels! I can barely walk 20 feet in these before I break an ankle,” you tell her with furrowed brows as you hold up a pair of your stiletto heels. The entire time, you feel the nerves swarming through your stomach as you’re afraid to make the wrong choice, wanting this night to be nothing short of perfect.

“Detka. Listen to me,” Natasha says sternly, and you can’t help but meet her gaze in the mirror.

“He will love you in everything you put on tonight - or any other night. You could wear your fluffiest slippers or your highest heels, he wouldn’t even notice! The last thing he’ll be looking at is your shoes, because that man has nothing but eyes for you before kissing you senseless. Trust me, you can wear anything you want, and anything you will decide is going to be perfect.”

When she’s done, you let her words sink in as you look at both pairs of shoes you’re holding. Deep down you know she’s right, and the last thing he will think about is your shoes, so you decide to go with the pair of black chelsea boots to finish the outfit, following your initial thoughts. Then it’s time to work on your hair and make-up before slipping on the clothes, and you look nothing short of beautiful when you’re done.

“I can’t wait to see what Tony thinks when he picks you up,” your best friend says as your fingers slide over the soft lace of the bodysuit. While it’s something that’s usually out of your comfort zone, it doesn’t look out of place on your curves, and you’re both sure Tony’s jaw will be on the floor when he sees you. She also looks at you with a prideful gaze, as she couldn’t be prouder of the happiness radiating off you both when you’re together.

“Believe me, neither can I,” you say with a shy smile, warmth spreading through your cheeks as you’re looking at yourself one last time, admiring all the hard work you and Natasha have put in while getting ready. It doesn’t take long for Tony to arrive after, and you squeal excitedly when you hear his knocks on the door.

“Have fun!” Natasha says as you rush past her, ready to greet your boyfriend. It’s been a little over a week since you’ve seen him in person due to your busy schedules. Now that the end of your degree is nearing, you’re both busier than ever, and you’ve both been looking forward to this reunion. When the door swings open, you’re met with a broad smile and a sight to ruin every last pair of your panties, as Tony looks especially handsome tonight.

“Hi, Angel,” he says as his hands are in his pockets, a blush already on his cheeks as he takes in your outfit for the night. His eyes get stuck on the revealing lace of your bodysuit, and he’s glad to be wearing a pair of his baggier jeans today, as they’ll help to hide the fact that he’s rather excited to see what you look like tonight. You barely get a chance to greet him back, as he gently pushes you against the door to kiss you, not able to stay away from you for another second.

His lips are soft yet demanding when they slide together with yours, a soft moan escaping your lips as his thumb caresses your cheek, while his other hand gently squeezes your hip, taking domination of every sense in your body. His cologne fills your nostrils as you two take the time to greet one another with this kiss, as it has been long overdue. You’ve been waiting for this moment for longer than you’ve wanted, but it’s been worth every minute.

Your bodies mold together beautifully, and it feels like coming home as you two take your time with the kiss. When it’s time for you both to get some air, you can’t stop smiling at him, the butterflies in your stomach going wild as you look into his shimmering dark brown eyes. His shy smile also makes your heart melt, as he looks more handsome than you’ve seen him ever look to this moment.

“Buon anniversario di un mese, angelo mio,” Tony says, making your heart melt at the foreign language slipping from his tongue as naturally as when he speaks English. He’s been raised bilingual - his Mom, Maria Stark, is from Italy so his parents have raised him with both English and Italian - but rarely speaks Italian outside of his parents’ home. However, when you found out that he speaks Italian, you’ve been encouraging him to do it more, making your heart melt as a result each time he does.

Then, after a few more pecks on your lips, Tony reaches into his back pocket from where he grabs a long, slender present wrapped in stunning red and gold wrapping paper. Your eyes go wide at the sight of the present, and you suddenly feel bad for not having anything for him, as you haven’t been able to go out and pick the perfect gift for him. You’re about to tell him exactly that, but he’s ahead of you, reassuring you that it’s okay that you don’t have one.

“All I want is to spend time with you on a night that’s special to us, Angel. Your presence and your smile are the best gifts you can possibly give me,” he says, which makes you smile and melt even harder. If you weren’t already deeply in love with him, you surely would be now, as he never fails to say the right thing. Then you move to open the present, making Tony smile widely as he patiently waits for you to take the wrapping off.

Inside is a necklace with a delicate chain and a small ‘T’ on it, and the color of it compliments your skin beautifully. Unable to know what to say to such a gift, you instead take it out of the small box it’s currently sitting in, holding it up to get an even better look at it.

“Can you put it on for me?” you then ask, and Tony obliges by taking the chain out of your hand and putting it on, his fingers sending sparks through your body, your skin feeling warm from where he touches you. He has picked the perfect length, and when you turn around he gasps softly, as you’re now proudly wearing his initial.

“You look even more beautiful than you already did, Angel. Sono l'uomo più fortunato ad essersi innamorato di qualcuno bello come te,” Tony whispers as he gazes into your eyes, and he has never felt luckier to be yours than he is now, just like he just said. Though you can’t understand the words he’s saying, you’re still enjoying them thoroughly, as Tony speaking Italian is something you will never stop encouraging.

“Ti amo, Tony,” you whisper before smiling and standing on your tiptoes to kiss him again, the words he was going to say now swallowed by your lips on his. His cheeks are on fire as his fingers dig gently into your hips, and the simmering flame that’s been slowly growing between you two is quickly turning to a large fire, passion growing with every passing second between you two.

“We- We should go to dinner,” Tony says with a smile after pulling away, a little out of breath as he gently puts his forehead against yours. You smile back at him as you close your eyes, your own chest rising and falling quickly as well. Once you’re both ready to go, he interlocks his fingers with yours before leading you out of your dorm and towards one of the most romantic restaurants New York has to offer.

The two of you were quickly seated at a table that offers a beautiful view of the New York skyline, as Tony has pulled out every last stop to make the night unforgettable. It doesn’t take long for a waiter to bring out two menus and water for you both, which Tony happily pours before taking a sip, the nerves in his stomach growing with every passing second. The last time he was this nervous was right before the kissing booth, when he was about to kiss you for the first time.

“Can I ask you something?” Tony asks after taking another sip of the water the waiter just brought over, his voice shaking slightly due to the growing tension in his body. His nerves are higher than he thought they would be, but he also knows that he needs to ask what he’s about to ask. You look up at him from the menu you’ve been given, brows furrowed and worry visible on your face.

“Of course, Handsome. You can ask me anything,” you say in a reassuring tone, his cheeks turning red at the nickname.

“I- I know this is a bit silly but- I was wondering if you’d like to be my date to the spring dance,” he asks as the burning on his cheeks intensifies, turning them to a deep red as the words come out of his mouth. Even though he’s not entirely sure why he’s asking you this - you’re his girlfriend, after all -, he’s still happy he managed to get the words out without making a fool out of himself.

“I don’t think it’s silly to ask a question, Tony. But to answer yours; I would love to be your date to the spring dance. It wouldn’t be the same without you,” you tell him, and he smiles brightly at your words. Sometimes, Tony needs some extra reassurance - especially after some of his past relationships that have caused a fear of rejection in him -, and you’re always happy to give him exactly that. Nothing is weird or out of bounds for you two, and you know you can always ask for anything you need.

“Thank you, Angel. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says before grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing the back of it softly. Heat takes over your cheeks as you look at what he does, happiness settling in your stomach. Each day seems even more special than the last with him, and you’re grateful to be loved by a man like him, wanting nothing more than to experience this love for the rest of your life with him.

Then, as you’re about to say something the waiter comes back to take your orders, and when those are given, the conversation turns light, with Tony cracking jokes and talking about your shared interests before you’ll both enjoy some of the most delicious food you’ve ever had. When every last bite is gone, it’s time for your favorite dessert: a rich, creamy tiramisu that has your mouth watering at the sight.

“Wow,” you whisper as you take in its beauty, and Tony grabs a spoon so he’ll be able to give you the first bite. As he lifts the utensil to your lips, his gaze is trained on your mouth the entire time, his body reacting instantly as he hears your reaction to the sweetness of the tiramisu.

A soft moan escapes your lips as the dessert practically melts in your mouth, Tony’s hand still in the air as he looks at the way your face turns into a look of pure pleasure. He never would have expected that feeding someone dessert could be this intimate, but he’s not minding it in the slightest. Simultaneously, he’s also grateful that his lap is covered by both the table and a napkin, so no one can see what your reaction to the softness of the desert is doing to him. The moan escaping your lips has him painfully hard, but he’s willing it to go away quickly, as there’s nothing he can do about it now, no matter how much his desire is telling him to do it.

“This is delicious, Tony. I would almost dare to say it’s better than having an orgasm,” you say in a slightly teasing tone, your own cheeks turning just as dark as your boyfriend’s at the mention of orgasms. Though you both have been open and honest about never having had sex before, you’re no stranger to helping yourself to take the edge off, and it’s something that’s been going through your mind a lot since getting together with Tony.

What you don’t know, however, is that Tony is planning to make your first time together extremely special, because not only will it be your first time together, it will also be your first time ever for you both, and you’re looking forward to that moment, as it’s going to be a night never to forget. However, the time to head back to your dorm arrives all too soon, as neither of you wants this night to end yet.

As the door of your dorm comes into sight, you squeeze Tony’s fingers in anticipation of what’s to come, but you’re caught by surprise when he pushes you against the wall, his lips immediately fighting over dominance with yours as his hands explore your curves, his warm body ensuring you’re not able to go anywhere. Your fingers are laced in his messy locks as you share the steamy kiss, and soft groans fill the hallway as you gently tug on his roots.

“Fuck-” he says as you pull his head back, allowing you to place kisses on the sensitive places on his neck. If it were up to you, you’d pull him into your dorm right now to share a night of passion, but that’s not what you’ve discussed, so for now, you’ll gladly stick to these steamy make-out sessions whenever you have the chance.

“Angel, please,” Tony says as his hand cups your neck, squeezing softly to get your attention. You pull back to reveal the marks you’ve been putting there, pride blooming in your chest at the sight of them. They’ll most likely disappear before the end of the night but you’re still happy with every last one of them.

“We should get some rest-” he says, only to be cut off by another kiss, as you’re unable to get enough of him. He smiles against your lips as he returns the sentiment of passion, but eventually he pulls back, the need for air becoming too much.

“I love you so much, Angel. I can’t get enough of you and your sweet, soft lips and this beautiful body of yours,” he says, his voice breathy as he’s trying to catch his breath.

“But, I also really need to get back to my dorm. I have an early class tomorrow that I can’t miss,” he says, his eyes softening from the lustful gaze he had not too long ago. His cheeks are bright red as he looks at you, and you nod in understanding before pecking his lips a few more times, making him smile shyly.

“I love you too,” you whisper before pulling him in for a hug, his body enveloping yours perfectly as you bury your nose in his jacket, his cologne filling your senses as you enjoy these last moments with your boyfriend. All too soon for your liking he pulls back before placing a kiss on your forehead and heading back to his dorm room, where he’s getting ready for his early class, and to visit his parents to get some advice, too.

The moment Tony walks into his parents’ house, it’s like a wave of Italy washes over him, his smile growing wider with every step. He loves the independence of living in the dorms on campus, but coming home to his Mom and Dad is a moment he always cherishes, as there’s not a single better feeling than being enveloped in the warmth of their house. Well, that is other than being around you and feeling your lips on his.

“Ciao, tesoro mio. Mi sei mancata così tanto!”

Maria’s voice fills the hallway as her heels click on the tile flooring, her arms stretched wide to welcome her son home. She’s always the first to greet him when he’s back, and he happily melts into her arms as they embrace. one another. Tony loves her with all his heart and soul, and the bond the two of them share is indescribable - there’s nothing either one of them wouldn’t do for the other.

“Anche tu mi sei mancata, mamma,” he whispers as they move from side to side, her grip not loosening for a second.

“You should really be careful not to crush him, Maria,” Howard says as he walks into the hallway where his wife and son are still holding each other. It’s been much too long since he’s seen his parents, and he’s happy to be back.

“I’m not,” she huffs as she lets Tony go, her hands on her son’s cheeks as she inspects him. He’s practically glowing now that he’s together with you, and she can’t stop smiling up at him, their height difference making her crane her neck to look at him.

“Welcome home, son. It’s good to see you again,” Howard then says before pulling Tony into an embrace of his own, and Tony returns the sentiment, letting them both know it’s good to be back. He can’t wait to introduce you - his Angel, the love of his life and the woman he wants to grow old with - to them as well, as he’s positive they will love you from the moment they meet you. His cheeks start burning at the thought of you, as you are the reason he’s here in the first place, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Maria who pats his cheek lovingly.

“So, how is everything going between you and Y/N? We’ve been looking forward to meeting her,” Maria says as he ushers Tony into the dining room so he can sit down. It doesn’t take long before there’s a refreshing cup of iced tea in front of him, just like his Mom used to make when he was growing up. His smile widens at the mention of your name, and he couldn’t be more excited to tell them all about you.

“It’s going well,” he starts off, his mind flooding with memories he has made with you so far.

“Even though we’re both incredibly busy with assignments and tests, we’re spending as much time together as we can, and I can’t get enough of her presence. She’s so loving, funny and sweet. I think you’ll like her, mamma. She radiates the same warmth and love as you, and it makes her just as special as you,” he tells his mom, which makes her blush intensely this time.

It is clear where he got the blushing from, as he looks a lot like Maria in this moment, making Howard’s heart melt as he looks at his beautiful wife and amazing son.

“Vederti così felice mi rende orgogliosa di te, bambina mia. Mi rende una mamma felice,” Maria says. Whenever she’s expressing these words of love and pride, she often resorts to her native language of Italian, as she can show her love even more that way. Tony’s mouth curls into a smile as he listens to her say how proud she is of his happiness, and he couldn’t agree more.

“Grazie mamma. Sono molto fortunata ad avere una donna come il mio Angelo al mio fianco,” Tony responds softly, and he thinks about you as he says it. He’s very lucky to have met you in this lifetime, and he’s told you before that he hopes to have the honor of falling in love with you in every single universe and lifetime after this one. Maria leads Tony to the living room as Tony has told them before he wanted to discuss something, though embarrassment is slowly filling his being at the thought of asking for the kind of advice he’s about to receive.

“Well- uhm… There’s a- a reason I’m here,” Tony starts off as he’s comfortable on the couch with the tea Maria has made for him, his voice low and his entire body feeling like it’s on fire as he’s trying to find the courage to say what’s on his mind. He nervously plays with the hem of his shirt while his gaze pointed to his knees as the nerves are getting the best of him; and then Maria reaches out, gently laying her hand on her son’s fidgeting fingers.

“What’s on your mind, Mi Amore?” she asks, and Tony sighs before looking up and meeting her gaze, her brows furrowed in worry as she looks at Tony.

“I- I’m hoping to get some… advice, from you both. I know we’ve talked about the birds and the bees, but- but I would like some more advice than that,” he says, his mind going into overdrive as he thinks of every possible answer they could give. Thankfully, they have always reassured him that he can come to them with anything, and that’s exactly why he found the courage to ask for advice.

“I’ve been talking with Y/N, and we want to take the next step soon, but- uhm- I’m still a virgin. We both are, actually,” he tells them, and Howard hums in response, while Maria squeezes his hand in encouragement.

“I- I know how to use protection and stuff, but I’m wondering if there are other things I should think about? Or do things to make it more enjoyable for us? I don’t want our first time to be bad, so…” his voice trails off near the end, relief washing over him that he finally managed to say it out loud. He trusts his parents with everything, and he’s happy to have the type of relationship to come to them with these kinds of questions, too.

“Before you do anything, please ensure that you’re both 100% on board with it. If there’s even a sliver of doubt on either side, you shouldn’t push it. There’s nothing more important than consent, and with that comes a deep trust,” Howard says, now leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He’s at eye-level with Tony, who nods in agreement. The burning in his cheeks is slowly subsiding, though he’s still beet red as ever, making him look adorable.

“While everything we just discussed is very important, there’s one more thing I want to ensure you know. After you’ve had all your fun, and you’re both enjoying that post-sex haze,” Howard says very matter-of-factly, making Tony blush all over again, “it’s very important to do aftercare. Don’t just roll over and call it a night, but take care of yourself and her by cuddling, for example, or maybe take a shower together.”

“Or a romantic bath with champagne and some fruit,” Maria says as she looks at Howard with a shimmer of excitement in her eyes, her husband smiling back at her with nothing but pure love. Tony quickly pieces together that it is something that they tend to enjoy, and he’s unsure whether to be happy for them, or be weirded out by it, as he’d rather not think about his parents doing things like that.

“So, aftercare. That’s good to know,” Tony says, his cheeks a fiery shade of red as the conversation is finally nearing it’s end. While he loves that he can talk to his parents about anything, he’s still a little uneasy when it comes to sex, which is only intensified by the fact that his first time is going to happen soon, and he wants everything to be perfect for you both.

“Is there anything else you’d like to know?” Howard asks, but Tony shakes his head - he has had enough sex-talk for one day, though he’s very grateful for their advice. Now, he’s looking forward to using all of his knowledge during your first time, wanting it to be nothing short of perfect for you both.

The days leading up to the spring dance seemed to crawl by at a snail’s pace, the classes feeling like they’re never ending and the assignments feeling like they’re becoming longer and more difficult, too. It’s only a figment of your imagination, however, as excitement has settled with you about attending said dance with your boyfriend. Though you’re more excited about what might happen after, because the two of you have discussed your first time together, as well.

It’s been on your mind more and more lately, and now that you’re out shopping with your best friend and roommate, Natasha, you can’t help but bring up the topic of lingerie.

“Do you mind if we go in here for a moment?” you ask as you’re walking by a beautiful looking mannequin that displays delicate, black lace inside one of the storefronts. Natasha hums approvingly before taking a left and walking in the store ahead of you. Even though you’re no stranger to wearing lingerie, it is your first time visiting a store like this, as you’re looking for something special to wear during your first time.

Natasha smiles widely as she heads into the store ahead of you, and you’re soon surrounded with lingerie in all sorts of shapes, sizes and colors. However, your eye is immediately drawn to a white set on a mannequin, the lace soft and delicate as it’s wrapped around the curves of the doll. Natasha follows your line of sight as she stands beside you, and without saying a word she’s off to find you the exact set you’ve been eyeing.

Soon, you’re in a spacious dressing room as you slip on the bra, the matching panties feeling delicate against your skin. When it’s all in place you take a good look in the mirror, admiring yourself from every angle as you let thoughts of Tony wander through your mind. You think about his reaction, but also about how quickly he would take it off in favor of having you entirely bare, and that’s when you get an idea.

You picked a short silk robe in a cream color to try on as well, and you slip it on, the fabric gliding over your skin as if it’s made just for you. You tie it loosely before standing in front of the floor to ceiling mirror, ensuring you can still see bits of the lingerie and some skin before snapping a few photos - both for your personal collection, as well as to send Tony to tease him a little bit.

His response came quickly, and you can’t help but feel your cheeks flush as you see the words “most beautiful Angel” fill the screen. This cements it for you, and you decide to buy all three pieces before changing into your own clothes, ready to pay and grab some dinner with your best friend and roommate.

“And? What did he think of it?” Natasha asks with a raised brow, making you smile at her words. Somehow, she always seems to be able to read you without fault, knowing exactly what you were doing as you took the photos for your boyfriend.

“He loves it,” you say softly, and she nods with a smile before heading to the register and paying for the sets she herself picked out. It’s a mix of red and black, which have become her signature colors, and they both compliment her skin tone perfectly, so she’ll usually be seen wearing one of those two shades.

After grabbing some dinner and settling back in the dorm room, you and Natasha have decided on a movie night with face masks and popcorn, just like you two used to do in the early days of being roommates. It’s become a tradition for you two to do it at least once a month, and tonight is the perfect night as tomorrow is the spring dance. The face masks are one of the brightest shades of blue you’ve ever seen, and you’re both laughing until your stomach aches from the sight of the other looking like smurfs.

It’s been barely 5 minutes since you’ve applied the bright blue face mask to your face when you hear a knock on the door of your shared dorm room, making both you and Natasha curious as to who could be on the other side of the door. You rush over there as quickly as you can, but before you open the door, the person on the other side is already gone, only a golden box left in their place. On top is a small card with your nickname on it, giving away immediately who it’s from.

“Who is it?” Natasha asks after putting some popcorn in a large bowl for your movie night, but you don’t say anything as you pick up the box.

“It’s not who, but what,” you say as you kick the door shut with your foot, the box heavy in your arms as you carry it to your bed, ready to unpack it. Within seconds, she’s by your side to see what’s inside, and you quickly take off the bow that’s been tied around it, so you can finally read the note that’s attached to it.

I love you, il mio meraviglioso angelo.

Wear this tomorrow night, and you’ll be the most beautiful girl at the dance.

I’m looking forward to seeing how angelic you will look as it’ll hug your beautiful curves.

~ Tony ♥️

“Are you kidding me?! That’s the sweetest thing ever!” Natasha exclaims after reading the note, your smile almost splitting your face in half. Your cheeks are burning at the mention of your curves, as Tony has mentioned quite a few times how much he loves them, and that he’s looking forward to worshipping every single inch of your body, leaving your cheeks heated and your heart beating like it’s about to leap out of your chest.

“I know! I wonder what’s inside,” you say softly, and your suspicions are confirmed as you lift the lid. Inside is a deep red gown made of the most beautifully shimmery material you’ve ever seen, and it looks like it’s embellished with diamonds, too. He hasn’t spared a single expense when buying you this dress, making it look as if it could belong on a red carpet in Hollywood.

“Wow,” you both say in unison as you take it out of the box. It’s an off-shoulder dress that’s tighter on top, but flowing near the bottom, allowing you to walk and dance comfortably. The lights of your dorm make the diamond shimmer, and the color accentuates your skin tone perfectly, even now that you’re holding it. You can’t even begin to imagine what it’ll look like when you finally get to put it on.

“You’re definitely lucky with a man like Tony. I don’t know many men who would go out of their way to pick out a dress like this that matches your skin and personality perfectly,” she says, and you’re unable to stop smiling as you hang the dress up for now, not wanting it to get ruined.

“Oh god, I am lucky, aren’t I? I never thought I would find a love like this, but I’m forever grateful to have fallen in love with Tony,” you say as you pull Natasha into a side hug, her arm snaking around your waist to pull you against her side, too.

“And you deserve it, Detka. There’s no one who deserves it more if you ask me,” she says, making your cheeks heat in response. Not only are you lucky with a boyfriend like Tony, but you’ve also won the best friend jackpot with Natasha.

“I love you,” you say proudly, and she returns the sentiment before letting you go and grabbing the bowl of popcorn, ready to rewatch Grease for the thousandth time together.

The day of the dance is finally here, and you’re experiencing a mix of both nerves and excitement, as it’ll be the first school dance that you’ll attend with your boyfriend. The dress he gifted you yesterday is hanging on your closet door, ready to be worn tonight, and the lingerie you’ve bought is ready to be slipped into after your shower. Music is blasting throughout your dorm as Natasha is getting everything ready for the two of you to do your hair and make-up, making a fun girls day out of it.

As you’re working on shaving your legs, you suddenly hear your phone going off, and you can’t help but take a peek around the shower curtain, your heart rate spiking at the sight of Tony’s name.

Tony >> I’m looking forward to picking you up tonight, Angel. I wish I could see you sooner, though - being away from you for this long is killing me

You can’t help but smile at his words, as you’ve talked to him on FaceTime not too long ago. That doesn’t mean you’re not excited to see him, however, as it’s all you can think about. All you know is that he’ll wear a suit that will go perfectly with your dress, but he hasn’t let loose about what color it will be. Thankfully, you don’t have to wait that long anymore, as both Tony and Bruce will pick you and Natasha up in less than four hours.

“What do you think?” you ask Natasha when you’ve gotten fully dressed, and you’re showing off the finished ensemble.

“I think that he needs to pick up his jaw from the floor when he sees you. You’re beautiful, Detka, and Tony is very lucky to have such a hot piece of arm candy for the night,” she says as she puts the finishing touches on her own hair. You don’t get the chance to answer her, however, as you hear a knock on the door before you get the chance. You rush over to the door, and you’re met with a sight for sore eyes.

Tony is holding a bouquet of white tulips as he smiles widely, his gaze roaming over your figure as you’re standing in front of him. The necklace with the little ‘T’ on it is highlighting your neck perfectly, and the dress hugs your body in all the right places, making you feel like the angel Tony always tells you that you are.

“Hi,” is all you can say as you take the flowers from him, your mind having gone blank at the sight of Tony in a perfectly tailored black suit, though the tie is made of the exact same fabric of your dress. His hair is messy in his own perfect way, and he opted to wear a set of dark-rimmed glasses to finish off his look. While Tony always looks handsome in his casual looks, he looks downright stunning in his suit, and you can’t get enough of the sight.

You quickly put the tulips in a vase before heading out the door, followed by Bruce and Natasha who had their moment of greeting, too. The Uber Tony ordered is waiting for you downstairs, and like a true gentleman he opens the door for you, allowing you and Natasha to get seated first, followed by himself and Bruce, and the night is officially off to an amazing start as you’re looking around the car, admiring the friendships you’ve built with all of them over time.

While the night is started off with some drinks and laughter, it quickly changes to seeing who can do the weirdest dance moves, only for the music to turn from an upbeat dance number to a slower song, and Tony holds out his hand for you as an invite to join him on the dancefloor. You happily take it, allowing him to guide you towards the dancefloor and take the lead in your slow dance.

Your body is pressed against his as your hands are on his chest, and his long fingers gently dig into your hips as you’re swaying back and forth. He looks at you with love in his eyes and a small smile on his face, and pink cheeks from the warmth in the room.

“I love you,” you tell him, and his smile immediately widens. He’ll never get enough of hearing those words from you.

“I love you too, Angel. Thank you for showing me what true love is like, and for being my date tonight. I’m happy to be able to share these moments with you instead of with Bruce as we’re sitting down the entire time as he’s unable to stop talking about Natasha.”

Right on cue, you meet your best friend’s gaze as she dances with her boyfriend, and she winks at you before looking back at Bruce. Tony leans down when you’re facing him again, but instead of placing a kiss on your lips like you thought he would do, he presses one to the top of your nose, catching you off-guard in the best way possible.

“What did you do that for?!” You ask playfully, and he shrugs while blushing even harder, making you want to return the favor. And you do exactly that, making him smile widely as you place a kiss on the tip of his nose, too. And just like that, a tradition is born.

“What do you say about heading back to the dorm, huh?” Tony whispers in your ear while dancing, the night coming to an end as more and more people are heading back to their dorms or to continue the party in one of the many nearby bars. Your head was resting against his shoulder as you swayed back and forth, but his words immediately set your entire body on fire, knowing exactly what he’s asking of you.

“I think that’s exactly what we should do,” you tell him as your fingers glide into the hair on the nape of his neck, your lips meeting him in a passionate exchange. The night you’ve been looking forward to for a long time is finally here – after tonight you’re not going to be a virgin anymore, as you will give yourself fully to the man you love.

Looking back on it, there’s not a single moment you remember from the way back to the dorm, as you and Tony haven’t been able to let go of one another for a single moment, constantly touching, kissing, whispering sweet nothings. You were both everywhere at once, and your mind has gone blank soon after getting into the Uber, and all you remember is Tony pulling you onto his lap, where you could feel all of him.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, Tony pushes you against it as he cups your cheeks with both hands, ensuring he can meet your gaze properly. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you’re attempting to catch your breath, but it’s difficult when he keeps stealing the air from them every few moments by pressing his lips hungrily against yours. Your dress quickly finds its way to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your heels, the white lingerie and the necklace, making Tony groan at the possessiveness of you wearing his initials.

“Did you buy this for me, Angel?” he whispers, his voice rough as he takes a step back, admiring the lace against your skin. Your nipples pebble at the attention he’s giving you, and you nod in response as you turn around in your spot, showing him the rest of the lacey fabric as it hugs your curves.

“It’s too bad I won’t be able to enjoy it for much longer,” he says hungrily which sets your cheeks on fire, and his words are followed by him sinking onto his knees so his face is at the same level as your dripping, clenching pussy. You’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time, and now that it’s finally here, you’re just as hungry for it as he is. He looks up at you with a questioning look, not moving another inch without your permission.

“I- I’m burning for you, Tony, I do-,” is all you can say before he lets his fingers glide over your thighs, the roughness of his fingertips making your head reel at the feeling of them against your thighs. He gently grabs your calf before lifting it and hooking your leg over his shoulder, giving him the perfect view of your thoroughly ruined panties. He reaches up to let his thumb glide over the fabric covering you, making you moan loudly as he finds your sensitive clit.

He smirks as he looks up at you through his lashes, though your eyes are closed as your head has fallen against the door. Tony leans in before letting his tongue follow the same path his finger just did, a groan escaping his chest at the first taste of you, immediately making him want more. Before you know it, the fabric is slipped to the side and his tongue has found your clit, making you roll your hips to meet his pace.

“Oh god- I’m close-” you say as you lace your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you in the process. Tony keeps alternating between sucking and licking, and you’re surprised when he gently works one of his fingers into your clenching pussy, and that ultimately leads to you falling apart. Your first orgasm brought on by your boyfriend is nothing short of amazing as he takes his time to work you through it, his own cock straining painfully against the zipper of his pants.

“Kiss me.” It’s all you can say after screaming his name for the past few minutes, and he obliges by gently pulling your leg off his shoulder and rising to his full height, giving you goosebumps as you see the height difference between the two of you. His lips instantly find yours and you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, and it adds to the hotness of the moment as you pull him closer against you, not a single inch of space between you two.

“Let’s lie down for a moment, Angel,” Tony says as he gently coaxed you towards your bed, and you let yourself fall on it with a thud before he rearranges your body in an effortless manner, making your heart beat faster as your entire body feels like it’s set on fire. Your boyfriend takes the time to undress himself before you, making a show of it as you drink in every inch of his beautiful body, every ridge, muscle and freckle being uncovered.

Then, it’s finally time for him to join you in bed, and you get comfortable against his side as you try to gather the courage to say what’s on your mind. He notices something’s going on, and he tucks a piece of hair behind your hair before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“A penny for your thoughts?” he asks, making you smile before looking up at him with a deep breath.

“I- I want to make you feel good, too,” you admit shyly as you let your fingers glide through his happy trail, a small smile on your lips as you look up at your boyfriend. His cheeks are still tinted pink from the effort he went through to bring you to your high, but his eyes are displaying a curious look.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to that, Angel,” he tells you, his lips finding yours effortlessly as he bends down to capture them. You can still taste yourself on his tongue as you get lost in the kiss, a soft groan audible as your fingers slip underneath the band of his boxers, ready to give him the same treatment as he has given you not too long ago. When you pull away, his lips are swollen and red, matching the color of his cheeks, and he gasps audibly when your fingers wrap around his cock.

“You’re so big,” you whisper as you pull your gaze down to the outline of his cock in his underwear, where your hand is holding him to get used to the feeling. The hardness of it, combined with the soft skin and the texture of the veins make for an odd experience, but you’re soon used to the feeling, even daring to work your hand up and down a few times. The friction of his boxers against his sensitive, soft tip have him clutching the sheets, his chest rising and falling quickly.

Without saying anything, you move to kneel between his legs, his boxers now showing the perfect outline of his length, a wet spot of pre-cum staining it on the top right. You can’t wait much longer and you gently pull down the fabric that’s keeping you from your main goal, and you’re not disappointed in the slightest. His cock is long and thick, and light blue veins run across the flesh towards his red, leaking tip. His skin is soft when you touch it again, your fingertips grazing over the sensitive veins.

“A-Angel,” his voice is teetering on the edge of begging, as he wants nothing more than the pleasure you’re about to give him. He’s a patient man, but when he’s this close to having your mouth wrapped around him, it’s impossible not to get impatient, though he wouldn’t push you past what you’re comfortable with. He’s told you before that he’s allowing you to set the pace of the evening, and he’s sticking to his word.

“You’re being such a good boy for me,” you say as you play with his balls, which earns you a loud moan of your name, his hands digging into the sheets even further. His back arches as you let your free hand wrap around his length, the feeling of your hands nearly being too much. He’s been waiting for this moment for a long time, and he’s not sure how long he’ll last if you keep going like this.

You move forward to lick a stripe all along the length of his cock, followed by you gently sucking on his soft tip while you keep playing with his balls, and it earns you exactly the reaction you’re hoping for. His hips roll in response to your moves, his cock nudging deeper into your mouth as he does. He knows he’s not going to last long, but you don’t mind as you double your efforts, earning yourself a loud moan of your name as his cock spills every last drop of cum into your mouth.

When you’ve worked him through his orgasm and he’s gone entirely soft - even like this he’s still very impressive when it comes to length - you climb over his sweat-adorned body to kiss him again, giving him a nice surprise when he learns you didn’t swallow, instead fulfilling one of his fantasies by allowing him to kiss you right after he came in your mouth. It’s been one of his dirtiest fantasies about you, but one you’re more than happy to oblige in.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks as he looks you over, his hands rubbing your skin lovingly.

“Good. Different, but not in a bad way,” you say with a satisfied smile, and Tony hums in response, his own mouth curling into a smile, too. The air between the two of you has shifted in a positive way, the trust between you and him even stronger now that you’ve seen each other in such vulnerable states.

“Good,” he whispers as you tuck your face into his neck, the closeness being something you crave after everything that just happened. His fingers draw abstract figures on your back as you get some rest, your mind still feeling very fuzzy after everything that’s happened so far.

When you wake up, Tony is more than happy to see your eyes again, as they’re one of his favorite things about you, and he smiles at you before flipping you over without warning. You shriek in excitement, and when he covers you entirely, his size kink is going wild for a moment, his cock pulsing in excitement at the sight of you like this underneath him.

“Are you ready for more, Angel?” he asks, and you nod quickly, lust coursing through every inch of you.

“Let me grab a condom-” Tony says as he leans over towards the nightstand, but before he can grab the handle, you wrap your hand around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He immediately looks over at you with worry in his eyes, your cheeks heating under his intense gaze. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire each time he looks at you, but now there’s a pang in your chest that makes you feel bad about stopping him in his tracks like this.

“You don’t- I mean, we don’t have to use one, Tony. I’m on birth control, and I want to feel you, all of you tonight. There’s no one else in this lifetime for me, and there’s no one I trust more than you. Unless you want to use one, of course,” you say to reassure him. It takes a moment for it to process in his mind, but his mouth curls into a smirk when he realizes what you’ve just asked from him. You want him to slide in bare for the first time, and he’s not saying no to an opportunity like that.

A hint of mischief is visible in his eyes as he repositions himself so that he’s above you, leaning on his elbows and his lips close to yours. All it would take is the closing of the few inches between you two to feel his lips on yours again, and it’s very tempting as your eyes flit to his lips and back to his dark brown eyes.

“Non c'è niente che desidero di più che sentirti nudo, Angel. The warmth of sweet pussy welcoming me as I slide in gently, taking my time as I stretch you with my thick, long cock. I want to feel her soak my entire length as you’re taking inch after inch, after inch. And then, as my cock is so deep in your sweet pussy that there’s nowhere for my cum to go other than inside you, I can feel your walls clenching as she tries to pull me even deeper. That’s exactly what you want, isn’t it? To have me fill you up with my cum until it’s leaking out around my cock, and making a mess between our bodies?”

You swallow around a lump in your throat as your pussy pulses from his words, excitement running through your entire body as your nipples pebble, too. His closeness is intoxicating in the best way possible, but you need him even closer. You need him deep inside you for as long as you can, and you’ll never let him go when he’s in. He will be yours, and you will be his. For the end of time, in this lifetime and all the ones after this one.

“Please,” you say softly, your voice low as lust is taking over once more. Your throat is also a little raw from how deep you took him mere moments ago, and your lips are still swollen from the countless stolen kisses. Tony lets out a deep breath before shifting on one arm so he can grab your jaw gently, his thumb running over the edge of it as he tilts your head back.

“Your wish is my command, Angel,” he whispers in a deep tone before leaning down and kissing your neck, a needy moan slipping from your lips as he does and he slips his thumb in your mouth as a response. Your fingers dig into his biceps as he takes his time marking your collarbone and chest, aware to not put them too high as you still need to be able to cover them. One day, you’ll proudly wear his marks without a second thought, but now you still have to be careful. Each mark Tony leaves has you clenching around nothing as his thick thighs are keeping your legs spread, his cock nudging at your entrance with every move he makes. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s nearly driving you insane.

When Tony is finally satisfied with the marks he has left - most of them placed neatly on your chest and breasts - he lets you go, his thumb slipping from your mouth with a loud pop. His cheeks are bright red when he’s done and his heart feels like it’s about to leap out of his chest as he looks at the marks he’s left, and you’ve rarely been more beautiful to him.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he says before kissing you again, his tongue easily winning the fight for dominance as you give yourself over to him. His hand slides between your bodies before wrapping around his length, a groan leaving his lips as he looks down to where he’s lining himself up.

“Take a deep breath for me, Angel. I promise I’ll go slow, but if it’s too much, you can always tell me, okay?” he asks, and you nod reassuringly, and you smile at him with a content look. After a few more seconds, Tony pushes in for the first time, your eyes going wide at the intrusion of his cock, as it’s very different from his fingers, no matter how much he took his time stretching you earlier.

“How’re you feeling?” he immediately asks, and you take a few deep breaths before answering. While your body is very stiff when he first slides in, you can feel yourself relax under him, and your breathing slows down as well.

“Good, Tony. I promise that I’m feeling good,” you reassure him, and he nods, his own heart rate and breathing slowing down, too. He takes his time to work every last inch of himself into you, constantly checking in and giving countless kisses, too, which helps you relax even further. The feeling of his cock inside you, the stimulation from his veins and the love he’s showing you has you on cloud nine, and you’re happy to have waited for the right man.

“Hmm, fuck- I do- I need you so badly, Angel. I need you so badly,” Tony groans as he bottoms out, his words slurring together as his brain is focused on one thing only: your pussy greedily pulling him in further and further. Your fingernails dig into his shoulder as he bottoms out, a loud moan escaping your lips as your eyes roll back in your head from the pleasure he’s giving you.

“That’s it, taking me so beautifully. You’re taking all of me so well,” he praises you, setting your cheeks on fire once more before you give him the go-ahead to start making you feel good.

“S so soft and warm, I never want to leave your pussy. ‘s pure heaven,” he whispers between slow rolls of his hips, your body working in tandem with his as he presses his forehead against yours, making the moment even more intimate than it already was.

“Un giorno ti sposerò e ti darò tutti i miei bambini, il mio amore,” Tony groans, the thought of you carrying his babies being one he can’t get out of his head as he slowly picks up the pace. It all feels very natural as you’re unsure where one person ends and the other begins, your bodies moving in sync as your highs are quickly building once again. While Tony keeps saying things in Italian – which only adds to your arousal – you can’t stop saying his name like a chant.

“Tony- Tony, please! ‘m close-”

“It’s okay, Angel. Let go for me, cum all over my cock and I’ll give you every last drop of my cum,” Tony pants as the bed creaks loudly, though neither one of you cares about who can hear. Right now, there’s nothing but you and Tony in your little bubble of happiness and pleasure. It only takes a few more thrusts and your nails raking down Tony’s back before you’re falling over the edge, immediately followed by Tony as he works you both through your orgasms.

“Ti amo,” you whisper as you look at him with pure love, and he whispers it right back at you before capturing your lips once more. The rest of the night is spent in each other’s arms as you’re enjoying the post-sex haze together. In the bath, where you’re feeding each other chocolate covered strawberries, or in bed where you’re more than happy to be cuddled to sleep by your boyfriend.

“Thank you for making tonight special, Tony. I’m glad to have you be my first,” you tell him, your fingers gliding over the coarse hair of his chest.

“And I’m glad to have you be my last, Angel. I’m never letting you go,” he tells you, and you agree before falling into a blissful sleep in Tony’s arms.

“How’re you feeling about meeting my parents today, Angel?” Tony asks as he stands behind you to zip up the dress you’ve chosen to wear as today will be your first meeting with Howard and Maria. It’s a blue dress that compliments your skin tone beautifully - courtesy of Tony who picked it out as a present for today - and Tony is wearing a shirt that matches in color, making you smile as you look in the mirror.

“Nervous, but overall excited. After everything you’ve told me about them, I think they’ll be nothing short of amazing. Especially seeing how well they raised you, as you’ve turned out like the perfect gentleman.” Thoughts of last night and how sweet he was with you during your shared first time are still swirling in your mind as you meet his gaze in the mirror, his cheeks flushed as you smile widely.

“I’m excited, too. I have a feeling they’ll love you almost as much as I do.” Without another word he grabs your hairbrush, letting it glide through your soft locks as he’s brushing your hair, getting it ready for you to turn it into a simple but beautiful hairstyle, as you prefer keeping your hair in a ponytail or a bun when possible.

When he’s done, he places the brush down before gently laying his hands on your waist to still be close to you, as he prefers not leaving your side right now. As soon as you’re done, you turn around to pull him into a kiss, your lips moving with his as if they;re made for one another, passion being poured into every passing second. Neither of you can get enough of one another, and if it were up to you, you’d spend another day in bed, but instead you have exciting plans to attend to.

“Let’s go, otherwise we’ll be late,” Tony whispers against your lips, and after a few more pecks you let him go, though you already miss him the second he steps back to head to his parents. The drive to their house is beautiful as the sun is shining and the music is blasting through the speakers, the roof of Tony’s convertible being down means you’re able to soak up even more of this beautiful day. His hand is gently squeezing your thigh as he looks at the road, a content smile on his face. If life is going to be like this from now on, he’s even happier to be spending it with you.

As soon as Tony’s family home comes into view, you let out a soft gasp at the beauty of it, as the rays of sun make it look almost iridescent as they shine on the white exterior. You’re not sure where to look as you’re getting closer, as the garden is also breathtaking, and you’re looking forward to seeing it all. And then, right when Tony parks his car, the two owners of it walk out to greet you both, huge smiles on their faces as they see you two.

“Welcome home, Angel,” Tony says before getting out of the car and rushing over to your side so he can open the door, a quick greeting being exchanged before he opens it. The next few moments go by in a blur, as you’re quickly being pulled into a hug by Maria, her arms tight around you as her floral perfume makes you think of home. Her warmth and happiness make you smile as you say hi to her, and she hums in response.

“Welcome to our home,” she says, her Italian accent shining through as she does. Tony has told you before how the two of them met while Howard was vacationing in Italy, and their summer romance turned into the rest of their lives as she moved to the United States to pursue their love. Now, they’re happily retired and enjoying life together, and you can’t wait to live a similar life with Tony when you’re older.

“È un onore incontrarti, Maria,” you say after she let you go, and her eyes go wide as she hears you speaking Italian. Even if it’s not perfect, she’s still extremely grateful for it, as it shows her that you’ve put some tremendous effort into it before coming here. She gives you a loving smile before grabbing your hands, squeezing them gently.

“The honor is all ours, Tesoro,” she whispers, and when you look at Tony you see he’s looking at you with wide eyes, as he didn’t know you’ve been studying to speak Italian, even if it’s only a few sentences. His heart is about to leap out of his chest from happiness, pride visible on his face as he kisses you on your cheek before whispering an ‘I love you so much,’ in your ear. He learns new things about you every day, and this was certainly one of the best things he has ever experienced with you.

Then, as Tony lets you go in order to get a big hug from his mom, Howard pulls you in for a hug as well, welcoming you to their home as well.

“Thank you for the invite, Mr. Stark-”

“Oh please, you can call me Howard! You’re part of the family, so there’s no need for those formalities!” he says as his hands are on your shoulders, his eyes bright with excitement as he says the word ‘family’. After everything Tony has been through in his past relationships, Howard couldn’t be happier with someone like you by his son’s side, as he wishes nothing but love for him.

“Well, thank you, Howard. I really appreciate the two of you opening up your home to me,” you say, and then it’s finally time to head inside. Their house is like a slice of Italy in New York, which combined with the countless photos of Tony from his baby years all the way to now, makes it feel like home. In the kitchen, Maria was working on preparing lots of little Italian snacks and dishes to enjoy, while Tony and Howard led you to the large garden.

You’re unsure where to look first, as you want to see it all, though that is quickly taken care of when Tony interlaces his fingers with yours in order to show you around. There are countless flowers blooming, making their garden look like paradise as you walk over the footpath. Tony recalls many memories, and when you’re both out of sight, he pulls you close to him.

Without saying another word, he cups your cheeks as his thumbs rub over your cheekbones, sending a shiver down your spine as he looks at you.

“How’re you feeling? Are you enjoying yourself?” His voice is soft and filled with love, and you nod as your cheeks heat under his touch. Last night, something inside you both changed for the better, as you’re even more in love now. Last night you shared one of many firsts together, and it’s only the beginning of the rest of your lives together.

“It’s so fun to be here! Seeing where you grew up and hearing all the stories fill me with so much happiness that it feels like I might burst soon! And your parents are a true delight, as well. You’re very lucky to have grown up with them. I actually see a lot of them in you as well, and it makes you adorable,” you tell him, which makes Tony’s cheeks heat up adorably.

“You are adorable, Angel,” he says before capturing your lips with his, the kiss soft and loving as you both take your time to enjoy the moment. The birds are chirping all around you, and the sun shines down on your both, adding to the warmth of the moment.

“I love you,” you whisper before giving him a last kiss on his cheek and grabbing his hand again, wanting to go back and hear all the stories that Howard and Maria could possibly share about Tony when he grew up. The rest of the day is spent with lots of laughter, many stories of Tony from his childhood and teenage years, and of course the amazing food Maria has made. But then, you get the one question you didn’t expect to hear today,

“So, how did you two enjoy yourselves last night?” The tone with which Maria says it lets you know she knows exactly what has happened between you two, and right on cue, both Tony and yourself turn redder than a tomato. x

That night, after saying goodbye to Howard and Maria, you and Tony drive back in silence as you’re thinking about the day you just had. And it’s official: this is the family you’re happy to marry into one day. They’ve shown you nothing but love today, and you’re even more excited to share your life with him. This day has changed everything, and you’ve never felt more welcome in your life, all thanks to your future father- and mother in law.

58 notes · View notes