Tony’s Leg Bouncing Quirk. 🥰

𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐲 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

tony eating you out

tony spiting in your mouth

sensual sex

missionary with tony pt. 2

tony fingering the attitude out of you

tony cumming in your mouth

deep throating

doggy Style with tony

tony playing with your tightest hole

showing tony your new set

lazy morning sex

deep thrusts

tony using a toy on you

tony teasing your clit

riding sub!tony

making out with tony

racking your nails down tony’s chest

teasing

fucking tony at work

being tied up by tony

fucking at 3 in the morning

tony using your throat

beefy!tony fucking you

i need at least 8-10 business days to process this. thanks! kill me now!

Money, Money, Money - Tony Stark

CHAPTER 1 Summary ➣ Starting off as simple, transactional love during the height of Tony’s alcoholism, devolves into something real. Pairing ➣ Tony Stark x Reader Word Count ➣ 1.2k words Warnings ➣ Slow Burn, Power Imbalance, Enemies to Lovers, Large age gap, Mildly Pretentious Narrator. Author's Notes ➣  The first, full-fledged Tony Stark series, so excited for this! I've always wanted to write a Materialistic!Reader so here it is! Happy readings <3

On the 86th floor of Stark Tower, atop a mini-bar, sat a delicate glass of Vodka Martini, 3 fluid-ounce Yamazaki, 1 fluid-ounce dry vermouth, with 3 small olives minutely pierced onto a thin gold-plated skewer. 

The thin stem of the crystal glass was passed to your gauzy, manicured fingers, in exchange for a crisp stack of ten dollar bills surrendered to the bartender, you didn’t bother to count. 

The plump skewer of olives swirled freely in your nearly full martini; minute drops threatened to spill over the edge of its fine rim. Luckily, you had caught the droplets before they had been discarded onto the carpeted floor.

Figures adorned in hues of gold and silver flitted about the lavish parlor, each mirrored the twinkling lights of the Manhattan skyline outside in their respective shimmering gowns, each one more expensive than the last. 

The atmosphere was lively, yet the main attraction has yet to arrive. You had heard mentions of the infamous Stark around; his name carried a certain mystique, spoken under hushed whispers amongst the attendees. You had never really met him face-to-face, considering he was the CEO of the company, but your position at Stark Industries held up a pretty good reputation, earning you enough, and granting you an invite to the party.

“Do you think he’s seeing anyone?” You picked up on the conversation between a few women sitting next to you on the barstools. The woman in question, doused in the overwhelming scent of Chanel No. 5, was dressed in a form-fitting Valentino dress. Her voice carried through the air with a thick New-Yorkean accent, a bleak resemblance to her flashy, ostentatious appearance. 

“Quit it, stop trying to get into Stark’s pants. You never will.” The blonde next to you responded, patting the other on the shoulder playfully. You caught a glimpse of her manicured nails, adorned with a glossy velvet finish in a similar fashion to your own. However, unlike yours—which were neatly trimmed, the cuticles of her nails were a bit messy. A detail that wouldn't normally matter, but for some reason stood out to you in that moment.

Is she wearing a Cartier bracelet? Your jaw clenched at the sight of her bracelet, sparkling with diamonds and catching the light in a way that made your own bracelet pale in comparison, it was obviously more expensive than yours. The fact alone pissed you off. 

The room was filled with a swarm of pretentious individuals, each one flaunting their wealth and superiority. It was suffocating, being surrounded by so many egotistical assholes with their holier-than-thou attitudes. They may have money, but it didn't make them any less shallow or arrogant. You had this sixth-sense of being able to tell how much of an asshole specifically by what adorned their money-laced wrists—whether or not they wore a Patek Phillipe or a Jaeger was enough insight into their entire persona. 

“I’ve got a better chance than you at least, Stark would love me!” The first woman's voice snapped like a taut wire, dripping with disdain. Her eyes narrowed and glinted with malice as she shot dirty looks at the others, her loathing almost palpable.

Holier-than-thou attitude, as you had said.

You thought their behavior immature, not wanting to pay attention anymore to such infantile arguments. Fighting over some uber-rich billionaire who could give less of a shit who you are after you had warmed his bed for a single night? 

Pfft, fuck no, you were just here for the cocktails.

You brought the crystal glass to your lips, and took your first sip. The alcohol burnt as it cascaded down your throat, leaving your mouth with a spicy aftertaste, you could never really get used to a Martini. 

A part of you was contemplating asking for more, but the sensible side knew that ending up slobbering drunk at a party and waking up at the ungodly hour of 2pm with missing jewelry and a killer hangover was not exactly your idea of a good time.

The smooth sip of your drink is abruptly halted by the sharp sound of glass shattering, followed by the shrill voices of the ladies engaged in a vicious argument. Their heated words and swinging arms in-turn send glasses crashing to the ground, littering the once-pristine carpet with sparkling shards of broken glass. 

“Did you just call me a bitch?” The blonde's voice rose to a screeching crescendo as she yelled, her face flushed with anger. With a loud thud, she slammed her purse onto the table.

“Yeah, I did—bitch!” Another responded, her voice a bit more high pitched than the other, yet still carrying the same sanctimonious attitude, standing up and facing her with a smug smirk on their face. 

“Now, ladies. Must we really be resorting to calling each other names?” A voice echoed from atop the stairwell. The women’s dispute had been abruptly quelled, the whole room seemed silenced, and all eyes seemed to be glued onto the figure.

There stood Tony Stark, dressed in a perfectly-styled, deep-burgundy suit, no doubt Tom Ford, the barchetta pocket gave it away. His hair was styled in his signature quiff, slicked back to a T. And of course, he topped off the ensemble with a pair of red sunglasses, which you’d always found amusing since he'd wear them indoors. 

“Welcome, everybody. I would introduce myself, but it seems that you know who I am.” Each step he takes down the glass staircase, each time his Louboutin boots hit the glass stairs, resulted in a loud, echoed clap, which resonated across the room. “I’d personally like to thank all of you for attending. As you know, it happens to be my anniversaire today, so I thought to myself, why not throw a party?”

"What's with all the staring, is my suit on backwards?" Tony joked, his eyes scanning the room as he flashed his signature smirk. You knew, however, he thrived on attention, as if it were fuel for his larger-than-life persona. Flamboyant was practically his middle name; Tony Flamboyant Stark does have a nice ring to it, you chuckled.

"Jarvis," Tony’s voice carried a hint of excitement as he spoke to his AI, "let's crank up the music and get this party started." The monotone response did as so. 

After Tony made his grandeur entrance, you retreated to your lone seat at the bar, grateful for the temporary escape from the chaos. The previously bickering women had vanished, leaving a few neighboring barstools conveniently open for your solitude. You took a deep breath and savored the cool air conditioning and the soft murmur of conversation floating around you.

But just when you thought you had some peace and quiet, you heard the shuffling of a chair being pulled out next to you. Expecting one of the argumentative ladies to return, you turned to find Tony  Stark himself settling into the seat beside you, nonchalantly pulling out his wallet and fishing out a few bills.

"So, could I buy you a drink?" 

⎊ back to masterlist

Copacabana - Tony Stark

Summary ➣ A letter to Tony Stark, 16 years after his death. Pairing ➣ Tony Stark x Widowed! Reader Word Count ➣ 681

October 17, 2039.

Dear Tony, 

It’s been 16 years since you left this world, October 17, 2023, 16 long years. 

It's surreal to think that it's been this long. At times, it feels as if we're still the teenagers who first fell head-over-heels for each other, dreaming of a future without any obstacles in our way. 

The memory of our first kiss still lingers, like a cool breeze on a warm autumn day, in the midst of an October rain, our clothes soaked and sticking to our skin. Young and reckless, having just graduated from MIT with bright futures ahead of us. But in that moment, all that mattered was the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body pressed against mine. The world faded away as we stood there in the rain, lost in each other's embrace.

I watched as you slowly rebuilt Stark Industries after the passing of your father. We had just eloped to California, swept away by our passionate love, keen for a fresh start. But money had changed you. I tried to understand the pressure of carrying millions on your shoulders, but it became harder to reconcile with who you were becoming. Yet, despite it all, my love for you never wavered. 

I remember when you were captured in Afghanistan. Those 3 bitter months, I didn’t know if you would return or not. Then you came back, and in your chest was embedded an arc reactor, a false, mechanical pump; keeping you alive, but deep down, I knew you still had a heart. You changed so much after that, like you lost a part of yourself in that cave.

Then the world crashed upon us—aliens, Avengers, and everything in between.

The moments in between felt like a hazy blur, my mind struggling to hold onto the images as they slipped through my fingers like sand. I remembered catching glimpses of you on the news, especially in your impenetrable armour, well. We thought it was, but that fateful day on Titan proved otherwise. 

And it hasn’t been the same since.

Morgan, our little girl. She’s just been accepted into MIT, just like you’ve always dreamed of. In a few years, she’ll be getting her PhD in electrical engineering, just like her father did; hopefully, she’ll inherit Stark Industries and continue on our legacy. As proud as I am, it's bittersweet, to see her follow in your footsteps. I know you would have been so proud of her. But at the same time, it brings up all the painful emotions of losing you and wondering how different things would be if you were still here. 

Morgan misses you a lot, she really does.

On rainy days, we’d sit outside the cabin. As rain splattered against the wooden porch, Morgan would curl next to me, tucking her small hand into mine. She would turn to me with big, curious eyes; "Tell me about Dad," she said, wanting to know more about the man she never got to meet, and I would weave fantastical tales of his bravery, how he fearlessly battled against evil to protect us, but deep down, I knew that he had been just as scared and uncertain as the rest of us, scared that he would lose us.

The humidity feels nice, we seek solace these days, finding comfort in the melancholy beauty that accompanies them. But my heart aches as I think about how much you loved these moments, we used to sit by the lake, talking about how we’d get older in each other's arms, yet you're no longer here to join us. 

Occasionally, we’d still leave a cheeseburger out for you, hoping that somehow you can still taste it in another world. It's a silly habit, but it's all we have left to cling to your memory. We know you're no longer here with us, but our hearts refuse to accept it. It's our way of holding onto you, even though we know you're gone.

We miss you, Tony, and I hope I’ll get to see you again. 

I love you 3000.

⎊ back to masterlist

Robert Downey Jr. goes full Daddy for The Age of A.I. (x)

SEBASTIAN STAN as BUCKY BARNES CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR (2016)

all this time I’ve been playing human

Iron man 1,2,3 by Hallpen

HONESTLY. one of my fav tony looks. glasses, longer hair, the bandages, PEAK tony design right here.

Hey there! I heard you had your requests open so I actually had an idea for you!

I had a thought that if Tony had Y/N as his girlfriend, but she has a short height as compared to other women. She's definitely mature and older in age and through the mind, but she often has this very insecurity about the fact she feels Tony is dating a child, and she has been judged many times about her height as well, which makes her lose confidence in herself and it emotionally breaks her if Tony accepts her like the way she is. So, Tony assures her that she's not a child and she's absolutely perfect as she is?

Basically this is somewhat connected to myself because I have a short height too and I wanted it to be a little comfort fic haha, and I was nervous to share about it so, hope it's okay for you!

Thank you so much for the request <3 You can read it here!