Mark Mann Using A Camera From 1940 To Photograph Chris Evans And Robert Downey Jr. At The 2014 Toronto

all my tony stank doodles over the years !! Enjoy !! Notes below :

The mug ones read "N°1 Iron Dad" and "Dont Talk To Me Until I've Eaten This Mug" respectively given by Peter and Pepper lmao

I also dont actually hc Tony as trans but sometimes you just gotta put your blorbos in a binder for mental health purposes yk-

The mechanical arm ones are inspired by a fic that one of my mutuals wrote, but they kinda went no contact/off the internet so i wont draw attention to them, but if you see this by any chance ! You are amazing and loved ! You inspired me !

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

Hey everybody!! I’m currently working on a new long Tony Stark series that will hopefully come out in a few days, stay tuned. <3

Tony Stark + his amazing bubble butt  (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ✧

sorry for finding it hot when people's hair goes grey. as if im wrong

Body Electric - Tony Stark

Summary ➣ You and Tony work through your insecurities, together. Pairing ➣ Tony Stark x Reader Word Count ➣ 1.4k words Warnings ➣ Mature, Body Insecurity, Mild Nudity. Request ➣ Ask Author's Notes ➣ Requested by @welldonekhushi, Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. However, if you're interested in beta-reading, please let me know!

You winced as the edge of your Louboutins scraped against your flesh.

Your once pristine skin, now an angry shade of red, was revealed as the heels were carelessly discarded onto the carpeted floor of Tony’s bedroom.

You always prided yourself on being flawless and put together, but in this moment, you couldn't deny the pain caused by the sight of the shoes. On one hand, they encapsulated Tony’s adoration for you, how he was willing to buy you anything you’d ever desired. On the other hand, they were a symbol of everything you tried to cover up—your looks, your desire to appear mature, your self-doubts. 

As you kicked them off onto the plush carpet, you couldn't help but feel conflicted about the persona you had forced yourself to maintain. The persona who used her appearance to mask her insecurities, and who constantly sought to cover up any minute flaw as if they were parasites, latching onto your skin. Even now, as you undressed under prying eyes nowhere to be found but your own, you couldn't shake off the feeling of this uncomfortable façade. 

Compared to Tony, you felt like nothing, a shadow in the glow of his perfection. Tony was everything you yearned to be—charming, confident, and most importantly, effortlessly attractive. His character only magnified your insecurities, the chasm between who you were and who you pretended to be.

In front of the multitude of cameras and paparazzi, it felt like every minute action and detail was analyzed by the media. You recalled the first time you had gone out with Tony in public, it had not been more than a day before almost every news outlet caught wind of it.

Each headline felt more painful than the next, some accusing you of being with Tony for his money, some poking fun of him for dating a ‘normal’ woman and not some Victoria’s Secret supermodel. It felt like everybody was criticizing every part of you, breaking you down into nothing but imperfect pieces to dissect. 

Spending hours in front of a vanity became second nature to you, fingers blistering from the scalding hot curling iron accidentally burning your skin, applying layers upon layers of makeup. Just to get ready to attend some gala, while adorning Tony’s arms like the multitude of watches that lined his suit cuffs. 

You stood in front of the large window, overlooking the dark horizon over the ocean. Your soft reflection was staring back at you. You frowned, despising seeing yourself devoid of any makeup.

Tony was still cleaning himself up in the bathroom, you had already taken off your dress, in its place—an ashen silk Brunello Cucinelli evening gown that Tony had bought for you, claiming it ‘accentuates’ your eyes. 

“Hey.” You heard Tony approach you from behind as you felt his touch on your smaller figure, you felt the warmth of his skin against yours through his black tank top and sweats. The musky scent of his cologne graced your senses.  

His fingers traced a deliberate path down your sides before settling on your waist. His touch was gentle yet possessive as he pulled you closer to him, pressing you into the softness of his chest; his chin resting on your shoulder. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt, accompanied by the faint buzz of the arc reactor embedded in his chest. 

Tony’s lips found your neck as he grazed the skin with his teeth, a soft sigh escapes you as his teeth dragged along your pulse point. The soft sensation of his kisses against your skin sent shivers down your spine. You could feel his breath; hot against your ear. Your fingers reached down, intertwining gently with his. While your other hand brushed through his hair, strands of chestnut brown fell between your fingers as you savored the bristly texture.

Tony’s warm body was a comforting contrast against the cold room. As your bodies moved together, he led you to the bed, where he carefully laid you down as gently as possible, as if any false move would shatter you to pieces. His delicate movements were always so contradicting to his persona outside the blanket of intimacy.

He lowered himself for another kiss, his strong arms braced on either side of your head as his lips met yours. You tasted the slight hint of whiskey, still lingering on his tongue—sweet and bitter. Your hands traced along his jaw, feeling the prickly stubble of his salt-and-pepper goatee against your palm. 

"I love you." Tony's warm breath tickled your lips as he whispered and gently pulled away, his million-dollar-smile lighting up his face. But a small part of you couldn't help but wonder if those three simple words were truly enough.

“Love you too.” You handed back the statement but Tony could feel something was amiss. Your eyelids drooped and your tone was hesitant, causing a knot of unease to form in his stomach. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Tony's hand, warm and gentle, glides through your hair with a tentative touch. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, his gaze soft. You feel a pang of guilt wash over you as you see the slight crease in Tony's brow. A heavy silence hangs between you as the weight of your inhibitions settles in your gut, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“I just—don’t know what you see in me, Tony.” You frowned as you spoke, your words barely audible in a hushed whisper. 

“Angel,” Tony whispers, “You’re beautiful—so fucking beautiful.”

“You really think so?” His words nearly caused tears to spill, you sniffled. The edges of your eyes tearing up.

“"I know so," Tony's warm smile lit up his face and he gently caressed your cheek with his thumb as he tried to cheer you up. The motion of his touch felt so soothing, easing the tension in your heart. Without even realizing it, you found yourself mirroring his contagious smile. "I wish you could see how perfect you are, you’re the most important thing to me, baby. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

"It just feels like you're, y’know—Tony Stark, confidently striding through life with all the grandeur and charisma, while I'm just me," you admitted, self-deprecation evident in your tone.  

“Please don't compare yourself to me, your flaws and imperfections are what make you perfect in my eyes.” An idea suddenly came to him, “Let me express my love for you; lay back and let me show you how much I love you.”

As you rested your head on the soft silk pillows, you couldn't help but feel a wave of shame wash over you. Your nightgown was discarded, leaving you exposed in only your undergarments. In moments like these with Tony, you always found ways to hide your body; dimming the lights, covering yourself with sheets—anything that would conceal yourself. But this time, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. 

“Look at me, my love, don’t be shy.” With gentle insistence, Tony's hand guides your chin back to meet his gaze. 

The warmth of Tony's hand enfolds yours once again, strong and sure. His other hand trails gently along your exposed skin, sending shivers down your spine. As he presses his body against yours, the weight is a comforting pressure that grounds you in the moment. He starts with soft kisses on the tips of your fingers, before trailing them up and back down your arm. Each touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the moment as his hands explored every inch of you with a reverence that made your heart ache with longing. Tony’s hands moved with purpose, exploring every curve and contour of your figure as if he were trying to memorize every inch of you. 

As the lights were gently dimmed, he reached out and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together, his arms wrapped around you as your foreheads met in a tight embrace, your bodies pressed together as if trying to merge into one. It was quiet, the only noises were your synchronized breaths and the pulse of the reactor, and in that moment, it was as if the whole world had faded away, leaving only you and Tony at its center. 

“You’re my everything, I love you, so, so much.” 

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Warm Me Up

Dark!Boss!Tony Stark x Assistant!F!Reader

Summary: Your boss’ seemingly innocent offer of warmth is not one you expected.

Warnings: 18+ content, noncon/dubcon undertones, power play, fingers at play, tell me if I missed any, Tony is his own warning. The fic is DARK, please consume responsibly.

At long last, my first Tony Stark fic has finally been made! Been really wanting to write him for a while now and I finally found the passion to do so. It’s a short one but I hope it’s a good one.

As always, your comments and likes are deeply appreciated. Reblogs would be amazing for it would help share my work and let this piece flourish. I hope you all enjoy! I love you guys 3000! ❤️ 

Keep reading

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?" 

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Please, I love this cute little superhero chibi 🥺💓✨