#sub tony

"The cameras can kiss your arse," you murmur, leaning in until your lips graze his ear. "Try to act right tonight. No grandstanding, no making a scene. Just stay by my side and keep your mouth shut."

"And miss the chance to be the center of attention? You're cruel, you know that?" Tony retorts, though his voice is a little thinner than usual. He reaches up, his fingers brushing yours as he tries to regain his composure, but you just tighten the knot one last time.

"I'm not being cruel, Tony. I'm being practical. If you can't behave, I'll have to find a way to keep you quiet."

He scoffs, a lopsided, arrogant grin spreading across his face. "Is that a threat or a promise? Because you know damn well how much I love a challenge."

You give the tie one final, sharp tug, watching the way his eyes flutter for a split second before he masks it with that trademark Stark bravado.  "It's a warning, Tony."

"Please," he rolls his eyes, though he doesn't pull away from your touch.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, his smirk softening just enough to let the heat show. "You love the challenge just as much as I do. Now hurry up; we took forty-five minutes to get dressed up, won't even make it there."

The heavy door of the Maybach clicks shut, sealing the two of you into a world of leather, expensive cologne, and suffocating heat. The city lights smear past the tinted windows, but you aren't looking at the view.

Tony’s hand is already moving, restless and demanding. He’s bored of the small talk from the penthouse and he’s hungry for something real. His palm slides up your chest, his fingers grazing the fabric of your shirt before dipping lower, tracing the line of your thigh with a possessive intent.

"God, if I have to hear one more person talk about themselves before we even get there," he mutters, his voice dropping an octave as his hand finds the hem of your trousers.

He isn't being subtle; he’s being a brat, his fingers digging into your thigh with a desperate, needy friction.

"Tony, behave," you warn, though there's no real bite in it. You reach out, your hand clamping firmly over his to remind him exactly who is in control here. "We aren't even at the venue yet."

He lets out a low, frustrated huff, leaning into your space until his forehead rests against yours. "Who cares? The gala is a bore. This — " He slides his hand higher, his touch becoming more insistent, more demanding. " — This is the only part of the night worth a damn."

You grin, the heat in your gut turning into something much more predatory. You lean in, your lips brushing his ear, your voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. "You're acting like a brat, Tony. Do you want me to make you behave before we even step out of this car?"

"Maybe," he challenges, his eyes dark and hooded as he pulls your hand closer to his own heat. "Maybe that's exactly what you should do."

He doesn't wait for an answer, his hand moving with a sudden, frantic urgency, sliding past the waistband of your trousers to find the hard, heavy cock of yours. He groans, a sound of pure, unadulterated want, as he begins to palm you with a rhythmic, demanding pressure that makes your vision swim.

"Careful," you growl, your fingers digging into his hip to steady him. "The driver is right there."

"Let him listen," Tony huffs, his ego flaring even through the haze of lust. He leans in, nipping at your lower lip before pulling back just enough to smirk. "He's seen me in worse states than this. Besides, he knows you're the only one who can actually handle me."

You let out a low, dark chuckle, the sound vibrating against his chest. Your hand moves from his thigh to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair to tilt his head back, exposing the line of his throat.

"Is that so?" you murmur, your thumb tracing the edge of his jaw. "Then let's see if you can handle being quiet for once."

You reach for the partition lever, your eyes locked on his.

With a sharp click, the glass partition glides up, sealing the backseat into a private, dimly lit sanctuary. The muffled sound of the engine and the distant hum of the city are all that remain, leaving nothing but the heavy, electric heat between the two of you.

Tony’s eyes widen slightly at the sound — a triumphant, wicked glint dancing in them. He knows exactly what that sound means.

He leans back into the leather, spreading his legs just enough to give you better access, his breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches.

"There," he whispers, his voice thick with anticipation, "now we can actually have some fun."

You shift, straddling his lap, the weight of your body forcing a low, shaky exhale from his lungs. The friction of your trousers against his is maddening; the rough, high end wool of your suits creates a heat that feels like it’s burning through the layers.

"You're so impatient," you murmur, your voice a low vibration as you lean down. You don't kiss him yet. 

Instead, you just hover your lips just a fraction of an inch from his, letting him feel the heat of your breath. You watch his eyes flutter shut, his head lulling back against the leather headrest as he chases the contact you're teasingly withholding.

His hands are everywhere now, frantic and clumsy in his desperation. One hand is buried in your hair, pulling you closer, while the other claws at your waist, his fingers bunching the expensive fabric of your shirt.

The sensation of his palms sliding against your sides, the friction of your clothes grinding together with every shallow movement of your hips, is a slow torture. 

"Don't — don't do that," Tony groans, a broken, needy sound that he’d never let anyone else hear.

He tries to pull you down, to force the kiss, but you lean back just enough to keep him on the edge. "Just fucking kiss me already."

"Is that an order, sweetheart?" you tease, your hips performing a slow, agonisingly shallow grind against him. The sensation of your cock pressing through the layers of silk and wool is enough to make him gasp, his back arching off the leather seat.

"It's a suggestion. A very, very urgent suggestion," he pants, his eyes lidded and dark with a hunger that has nothing to do with the gala.

He reaches down, his hands fumbling with the belt of your trousers, his movements uncharacteristically uncoordinated as he tries to bridge the gap between your skin and his.

You catch his wrists, pinning them against the seat for a moment to regain control. The friction of your thighs rubbing together, the heavy, rhythmic pressure of your weight as you settle deeper into his lap, is driving the tension to a breaking point.

Every movement is deliberate, every slide of your hips a calculated move to keep him right on the precipice.

The logistics of it all were very lost in the suffocating sensations emitting off you two. But you found the right angle, while he rummaged haphazardly through the seat pockets for the spare lube he always keeps for times like this.

Both yours and his ties were unfortunately sacrificed for this quick little mess in the backseat. Yours was used to tie his wrists tight above his head, making him grasp flimsily at the leather. Tony's effectively just silenced him — a bundle of smooth fabric shoved past those pretty lips.

A heavy, deep thrust forces a muffled, high pitched whine out of his throat. You’ve got his knees shoved so far up against his chest that he’s completely folded, his hips tilted up to take every inch of you. Every time you bottom out, his head thrashes against the leather, his eyes rolling back as the sheer depth of you makes him forget how to breathe.

Tony tries to pull the tie out of his mouth, a desperate attempt to snark at you, to tell you you're being too rough, but you just shove him back down, your hands clamping onto his thighs to hold him steady. 

"Shut up, Tony," you growl, your voice a low rumble as you drive into him again. "You're supposed to be a genius, but you can't even handle a little bit of attention without losing your mind."

He tries to let out a defiant scoff, but it comes out as a pathetic, wet sound — you're hitting him so deep he can't even form a thought. You reach down, your hand sliding between your bodies to wrap around his cock, your thumb grinding hard against his tip with every thrust.

He lets out a muffled, desperate whimper, his eyes blowing wide and glassy as he looks up at you, completely undone.

"Look at you," you smirk, watching the way his chest heaves, his ego completely stripped away by the sheer force of you. "Where's all that Stark attitude now? You're just a mess for me, aren't you?"

You don't give him the release he's begging for. You lean in, your teeth grazing his earlobe as you pick up the pace, your thrusts becoming faster and more punishing.

You can feel him trembling under you, his entire body vibrating with the effort of trying to stay composed while you're systematically destroying him.

"Should I cum in ya, Tony?" you murmur, your voice dripping with a cruel sort of playfulness as you drive into him one last time, bottoming out so hard he lets out a muffled, broken cry against the gag. "Make a little stain for the cameras to find when we walk in? Give them something real to gossip about?"

He’s completely gone. The billionaire, the genius, the man who always has a comeback is just a dazed, panting mess, his eyes glassy and unfocused as he stares up at you. He tries to form words around the silk in his mouth, letting out soft, desperate murmurs

"Please — mmph — please," he whimpers, the words barely intelligible through the fabric, but the desperation in his eyes says it all. Tony’s trying to beg, trying to tell you how much he needs it, his hips bucking instinctively against you in a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm.

But you don't give him the satisfaction.

You pull out of him with a sudden, agonising slowness, leaving him twitching and breathless in the sudden coldness of the air. He's left hanging on the edge — his body trembling with the unspent tension, his eyes searching yours for a mercy you have no intention of giving.

You take a moment to just watch him, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips as he lies there, a wrecked, dazed mess in the backseat. He looks like he’s forgotten there’s even an event waiting for him, his mind completely wiped clean by you.

Taking a bit of mild pity for your lover, you decide to leave him something to remember the ride by. You reach down, delivering a few stinging backhands to his arse — the sound of sharp skin shitting echoing in the small space. 

“Just leaving some handprints and good grips all on ya, honey,” you murmured sweetly, smiling at his low whines at each hit — you made sure to use a firm grip too. 

“Please, babe — ” Tony tried to beg, but half his syllables were muffled, “ — need’ta cum, please, don’t — ”

"Don't look at me like that, sweetheart," you coo, a low, dark chuckle vibrating in your chest as you watch his eyes plead for mercy.

You’re straining against your own aching heat, your pulse thrumming with the need to orgasm too. But you keep your composure. "I've got an image to maintain, too. We can't exactly walk into a gala looking like we just finished a marathon."

You lean down, your lips brushing his as you reach up to pull the tie from his mouth. The moment the silk clears his lips, he lets out a broken, needy groan, his voice a wrecked, desperate rasp. 

"Please, just — fuck — you're killing me," he gasps, his voice a wrecked, desperate rasp as he tries to pull you down, his head thrashing against the leather. He’s practically vibrating, his hips jerking in a futile attempt to find the friction you just snatched away.

Instead of giving Tony the orgasm he’s screaming for, you lean in and capture his mouth in a deep kiss. You drink in his pleas, swallowing his desperate murmurs of "Please, baby, please" as you make out with him with a frantic, hungry intensity.

Even with his wrists still tied tight above his head, he clings to you, his body arching toward yours as if he could force the connection back through sheer willpower.

You pull back just enough to smirk at him, watching the way his eyes are blown wide and glazed with pure lust. You're still aching, still straining against your own suit pants.

But, hey, you could just drag him by the spare tie after his speech, use his chatty mouth for a while.

The car comes to a smooth, silent halt, the engine's hum dying down to leave only the sound of your heavy, synchronised breathing. The adrenaline is still humming through your veins — an electric heat that makes your skin feel too tight — but the reality of the venue is pressing in.

"Over there," you murmur, nodding toward the grand entrance of the gala as the tinted windows reveal a swarm of flashing lights. "I swear I just saw the cameras flash. They're waiting for the golden couple."

Tony lets out a sound that’s halfway between a groan and a laugh, his head falling back against the leather. He’s a total wreck — hair mussed, lips swollen, eyes still dazed and unfocused from the sheer intensity of you.

He looks like he’s been through some marathon alright — his chest still heaving as he tries to pull his dignity back together from the floor of the Maybach.

You reach out, giving him a wry smile as you pat his jaw, treating him like a particularly well behaved, albeit exhausted, mutt. "There we go. Try to look like a billionaire and not a man who just got thoroughly dismantled in a moving vehicle."

Tony lets out a huff, a ghost of his usual snark returning to his eyes even as he winces from the lingering ache in his hips. "You're a menace," he mutters, though the way he leans into your touch tells a completely different story. "A beautiful, sadistic menace."

"Maybe," you shrug, your fingers lingering on his skin for a second too long as you begin to untie his wrists, though you don't bother fixing his hair or fixing his tie.

You leave him a little dishevelled, a little breathless, and entirely yours. 

"Well," you say, smoothing down your own suit and checking your reflection in the darkened window with a predatory glint in your eyes, "looks like we're going in tie-less. At least our suits are matching."

Tony lets out a low, shaky breath, trying to straighten his shoulders even as his legs still feel like jelly.

He catches your gaze, a wicked, knowing smirk finally tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the exhaustion. "Fine by me. Let them wonder why the great Tony Stark looks like he just won the lottery and lost his mind at the same time."

You laugh, a rich, dark sound, and reach for the door handle. The world is waiting, but as you step out into the blinding flash of the paparazzi, you know the real show is still happening right beneath the surface.

fic inpso:

$ tag @twentytomidnight @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @froggibus

$ join taglist

The two of you were having an extremely tense dinner back at your place. The past two days, you had eaten dinner alone. Tonight, you decided you would at least grace him with your presence, even if you wouldn’t do the same with conversation. No looks were even spared in his direction, though you could feel his eyes burning into you. Every sharp intake of breath from him caused you to take a sip of wine in an attempt to get him not to speak. Eventually, though, he did anyway.

“Please, darling. I’m sorry.”

The quaver in his voice caused you to glance up from your pasta. That was a mistake. You could see how glassy his eyes were and the guilt etched across his face. His hands were shaking, and you were sure they were clammy. His mouth was turned downwards in a frown that you usually would never want to see, and his bottom lip was trembling. You placed your fork on the table and rested your chin on your hands, silently prompting him to speak.

“Baby, I’m truly sorry. I don’t know what came over me, but there is absolutely no excuse for what I did. You mean the world to me; I’m ridiculously happy that you let me into your life. Which makes me feel all the more guilty for forgetting something this important. I promise that it will never happen again; I’ll program F.R.I.D.A.Y. to remind me every day for a week beforehand so I never forget again. But I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry for putting you through that pain, and I will never do anything to hurt you like that ever again. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

The sincerity in his tone struck you. You could practically see the guilt washing over him in strong waves. Sadness radiated off of him in a way that you had never seen before. And you did miss him, you really did. You missed his smile, the crinkles that would appear beside his eyes when he laughed, the scratch of his facial hair when he kissed you on the cheek, and the soft murmurs of “I love you” that would accompany every gesture of affection he gave you. But you still wanted to make him work for it, being the stubborn thing you were. And you knew exactly what you wanted him to do.

You arched your eyebrow, “Anything?”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly at the sound of your voice, “Anything, darling.”

You made eye contact with him then, missing the feeling of his chocolate brown eyes staring into yours. But swiftly after, your eyes swept downwards, eyeing up the swell of his lips and the way the t-shirt he was wearing clung to his biceps. You couldn’t help but have his punishment be of a sensual nature; you had both always been very sexually intimate people. Your bodies had a way of conveying what couldn’t be said with words.

“After we finish eating, I want you upstairs in our room, stripped and kneeling at the edge of the bed while I get some things ready. When I come back, you’re going to get your punishment, then you’re going to make me cum. If you’re good, I’ll let you cum after. Understood?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

You fell back into silence once more, though this one was more anticipatory than awkward. You could tell he was excited at the prospect of paying his penance, and was looking forward to things going back to normal between the two of you. You were looking forward to it as well; you missed him, though you wouldn’t admit it, of course.

It wasn’t long before the two of you finished your meal. You took the trek back to your bedroom together, and while Tony busied himself with obeying your commands, you disappeared into the closet to get some tools for the night ahead: a red and gold paddle for the punishment, and lube and a deep blue dildo (hopefully) for his reward. When you re-entered your bedroom with your tools in hand, you were pleased to find Tony nude and kneeling by the bed as requested. His head turned to you as you entered and he gave you a soft smile. You returned it as you set the dildo and lube on the nightstand for later use. You sat on the edge of the bed and tilted his chin so he was looking up at you. You kissed him sweetly as you gripped the paddle in your hands, contrasting the roughness of the punishment he was about to receive.

“Lay across my lap.”

Your voice was commanding, and he didn’t care disobey. He draped himself across your legs, ass up in the air and now hard cock pressing into your thigh.

“Tell me your safeword, sweetheart,” you told him, bringing the paddle up in preparation.

“Gauntlet,” he whispered back.

“Good boy,” you cooed, before bringing the paddle down to smack against his left cheek.

He made a soft noise of shock; you took him by surprise that time. But the two you landed on his right cheek in rapid succession didn’t. The next harsh smack made him gasp out, and the one that followed made him grip the sheets below him, whimpering into the mattress.

“That’s it, love. Taking your punishment like a good boy,” you crooned.

“Wanna be good for you,” he murmured back, slightly muffled by the mattress he was face down on.

You laid down five more smacks, and by the end, his soft gasps turned into moans. You could feel his hard-on pressing more insistently into your thigh. His ass was bright red; you knew it would be a struggle for him to sit tomorrow.

“All done, love. You did so wonderfully for me,” you said with a gentle smile.

“Thank you,” he replied softly, returning your smile.

“Why don’t you get on your knees for me, baby?”

He did as you told, kneeling directly in front of you and looking up at you adoringly. You placed the paddle beside you on the bed and spread your legs for him in invitation.

It didn’t take a doctorate for him to know what you wanted him to do. He crawled forward until his face was directly in front of your heat, stabilizing his hands on your thighs, and you knew that you were already dripping. You honestly had been since you had thought this up, excited to get him between your thighs and feel the scratch of his beard against your cunt.

The first press of his lips against you already had you reeling, but you knew how to reign it in. You gripped his hair tightly, holding him in place as his tongue licked between your folds, licking up your wetness. He went at it with enthusiasm and fervor; not only did he want to make this up to you, but he normally enjoyed eating you out just as much as you did. He loved the feeling of having you dripping down his chin, moaning unabashedly as you yanked on his hair. He loved your taste, and he loved when you were in control. He moved slightly from between your lower lips and sucked your clit into his mouth, which drew the first moan from you.

“Just like that, baby. Doing so well for me,” you praised.

You felt him smile against you as he continued to lavish your clit with attention. He had always had a bit of a praise kink. He finished your assault on your clit when you tugged him back down to your folds, and his tongue pressed deep inside of you, wanting to bring you to your release. The soft gasps of pleasure above him told him that he was fulfilling his goal. You slowly ground your hips into his face, spreading your wetness down his chin. He buried his nose into your cunt as he licked deeply, moaning at the taste of you. You tugged his hair roughly, eliciting another whine from him.

“So close, bub. Just a little more.”

He moved one of his hands from your thighs to your center and began toying with your clit while redoubling his efforts with his tongue.

“Fuck yeah, babe. Fuck,” you cursed as your orgasm washed over you.

He continued lapping at you through your high until you tugged him away from overstimulation. You smirked when you saw his face coated with your wetness. He blushed and wiped most of it off with his fingers, licking off teasingly. You chuckled gently and leaned down so you could kiss him, and you groaned softly at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

“That was great, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. Think it’s about time that you get rewarded,” you cooed.

He grinned up at you, “Thank you, honey.”

“Of course, Tony. Get on the bed for me on your back.”

He went obediently, laying on his back and spreading his legs for you. You grabbed the lube and the dildo and kneeled between his spread legs.

“So gorgeous for me,” you murmured.

His shy smile soon grew hungrier at the sight of you lubing up two of your fingers. He knew better than to get impatient, so he flopped his head down onto the pillow, eagerly awaiting the first press of your fingers inside of him.

You came over to him then, with slick fingers, the dildo and more lube in tow.

“Just gonna open you up first,” you stated.

You traced one of your lubed up fingers around the rim, not yet pushing it inside. His hole fluttered at the feeling and a soft, pleading whine fell from his lips. You couldn’t help but smirk as you slowly worked your first finger in since the moans that began to spill from him were already quite desperate.

“You already sound close, babe. Better hold it until I get that dildo inside of you,” you remarked as you sunk your finger in up to the knuckle.

The action drew a soft sob of pleasure from him, and you crooked your finger inside of him to hear more of those pretty noises.

Soon enough, you were asking, “Ready for a second, baby?”

He nodded vigorously, “Please! I can take it! Please!”

“It’s okay, baby. Don’t need to beg, I’ve got you,” you consoled as the tip of your second finger breached his hole.

He cried out desperately and ground his hips into your fingers, forcing your second finger in just as deep as the first. You scissored your fingers in him, stretching him out even more. You wanted to make sure that Tony was ready for it; you never wanted him to be in pain.

But soon he was begging for more, “Please, darling. I can take it, I’m ready. Need it so bad, please. Need you.”

“Does my good boy need to get fucked? Needs this dildo to ruin his tight, little hole?” you taunted, holding your dominance over his head.

“Yes! Need you to fuck me, please. Never needed it more. Please, baby, please.”

You always enjoyed when Tony got like this, when all he could think of was you. So, you gave in to his begging and removed your fingers, then coated the dildo in a generous amount of lube. You lined the dildo up with his waiting hole.

“Ready?”

The question was more of a formality; you knew he was ready, but you always wanted to be sure.

“Yes. ‘M ready.”

You slowly pushed in, allowing him time to adjust to the size of the toy. He moaned unabashedly at the feeling and pushed his hips into the dildo, forcing it deeper.

“Greedy, aren’t you?” you teased, pulling the toy back out of him.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry. Please. Please,” he begged, desperate for you to continue.

You smirked and suddenly slammed the full length of the toy into him, causing a broken cry to fall from his lips. He writhed underneath you as you continued your punishing pace, fucking into him roughly with no sign of stopping.

You used your free hand to guide his hands up to his nipples. He immediately began toying with them, and his moans grew louder. Your free hand then gripped his cock, and you began working it with slow strokes, still teasing him. A faster tug of your hand accompanied by a harsh slam of the toy made his back arch and he cried out.

“Please, honey. I’m so close.”

You quickened your pace with the dildo and he almost shrieked in pleasure.

“There it is,” you muttered, and drilled into the same spot over and over again.

Tears of pleasure sprang to his eyes as you sped up your strokes on his cock. Later, he would be embarrassed at the noise he made when he came, but for now, he didn’t care. The scream that tore itself from his throat was like music to your ears as he coated your hand in his cum. You continued to fuck him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, then slowly pulled the toy out and layed it on the nightstand.

For a while, you just held him, stroking his hair gently and murmuring how good he was for you. Eventually, he came back down and smiled sleepily up at you.

“Was that nice?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

He nodded, “Yeah. Always is.”

You pressed a light kiss to his forehead, “I’m gonna get something to clean you up with, okay?”

He nodded again and you gathered the toys and put them back in the closet. Then, you grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom and returned to Tony’s side, wiping up the cun that was still on his body. You cleaned what was still on your hand as well, then chucked the washcloth across the room and cradled your boyfriend in your arms.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, turn off the lights, please,” you requested.

As the light dimmed down, you looked down at Tony, who smiled back up at you. Soon, though, the smile faded.

“You’re not upset anymore, are you?” he asked, almost sheepishly.

The look in your eyes grew a little sadder, “No, Tony, I’m not anymore. Just promise me you won’t forget next year.”

“Never again.”