marveldcmistress

[marveldcmistress]

Chris Evans + that thing he does with his hand and his beard

[marveldcmistress]

Stupid Fucking Cupcake

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale and birthday!reader

Word Count: ~800

Warnings: explicit language, smut implied- several times. 18+ ONLY.

Summary: You celebrate your birthday with grumpy soft sweater!daddy.

A/N: This is an oldie 🥺

Not beta read. All mistakes are my own.

“Next!” the bakery attendant yelled into the crowd of people waiting for their confectionaries.

Ransom had no clue why he was doing this, but here he was, waiting in line at the fancy bakery all the way across town for one fucking fluffy cupcake.

“That one” he grunted, hating himself and this fucking place as he pointed out the cupcake he wanted, swearing under his breath with a snarl.

It was your birthday and in a moment of weakness -while you were deep throating his cock- he agreed that you could have a few friends over to celebrate.

He smirked to himself while shaking his head, he had to remember not to make anymore promises while your lips were wrapped around his dick. He’d gladly give you and your perfect cock sucking mouth the moon.

Ransom hadn't even realized you two were dating until one of the pricks at the country club pointed it out.

He had been sleeping with only you for months now. Something that was only supposed to last a week had now stretched on longer than any situationship he's ever had. Exclusivity was completely out of the question for him and yet here he was, buying you a fucking bougie Instagram worthy cupcake.

“Oh, what the fuck?” Ransom grouched when the attendant rang up the total for your stupid cupcake, he snatched it away as it was handed to him.

When Ransom finally walked through his front door, perfect cupcake in hand, his brows furrowed. Your small celebration had turned into a party.

You spotted him the second he walked into the room, skipping over to him and throwing your arms around his neck, burying your face into his cable knit sweater.

You were wearing the new dress he bought you, demanding his personal shopper find something pretty for a birthday girl. You looked stunning in it.

“Hi” he smiled down at you, feeling annoyingly soft all of a sudden. “Happy Birthday” he said, shoving the little pink cupcake bag at you.

Usually he didn't give a shit about money, but even he knew this cupcake was overpriced. But it was the only thing you mentioned wanting when he fumbled through asking you for birthday ideas several weeks ago.

Ransom looked around his home, finally registering just how big this party had gotten when he saw his table overflowing with your presents in the dining room. You definitely weren't hurting for friends, something Ransom couldn't say at any point in his life.

He suddenly felt self conscious about his stupid tiny cupcake present. But before he could take it back you began tearing the bag open with enthusiasm.

When you saw what was inside you let out a squeal of delight, jumping into his arms and almost dropping the cupcake bag as you planted a kiss right on Ransom's surprised lips. He hummed into your kiss for a moment before…

“Don't drop that fuckin' thing! Had to wait in line forever” he grumped against your lips.

“I won’t” you giggled, gingerly removing the cupcake and the little candle from the bag. You tore back the lining, holding the stupid thing up to his lips and offering him the first bite.

Ransom rolled his eyes and resolved to rearrange your guts later after doing all this soft shit for you today.

“This is my favorite present” you said through a mouthful of cupcake, “thank you” your lips were covered in frosting and Ransom squirmed, feeling a heaviness build at the base of his spine. Then his chest clenched, forcing him to turn away.

He coughed and cleared his throat as he tried hiding the stupid smile breaking across his handsome face. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked around at the strangers in his house.

“I want all these fucking people out” he blew out, only half heartedly.

“Yeah, OK. But can I blow out my candle first?” You asked, pouting out your bottom lip.

Ransom took a snarled breath, blinking down to your mouth quickly before giving one swift nod.

Five minutes later, the candle on your cupcake was lit and everyone was singing happy birthday to you.

Ransom didn’t sing, he actually doesn't even know the words to the song, raised by parents that never gave a shit. Never actually bothering to sing to him, just throwing cash in his direction when Harlan or the help reminded them that it was Ransom’s birthday.

Ransom huffed, hating everything about this. But he didn’t hate you- he kinda hated just how much he didn’t hate you.

As he watched you blow out the candle on your ridiculous fucking cupcake, Ransom had two very distinct thoughts.

In less than ten minutes you would be on your knees, your perfect frosting covered lips sucking his cock as his soul prepared to leave his body.

And as a heated tension built deep in his chest -feeling as if it would suffocate him- his next realization left him with a horrible gut sinking feeling…

Ransom was in love.

And the worst part was, it had nothing to do with the way your lips were making an O face when you blew out your candle.

Fuck!

Divider made by the kind and talented @firefly-graphics ♥️

[marveldcmistress]

"Hades, you can't do this. I'm married."

"Aw darling, I don't care."

[marveldcmistress]

Steve Rogers is a damn menace.

From my phone collection

[marveldcmistress]

… I’ve been thinking about him lately. o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o

And he's been thinking about you. He's been trying to be happy with watching you from afar, try to make you hunger for him the way he does for you.

Every time you look over your shoulder he knows you're looking for him. You want the reassurance that he's looking out for you. Protecting you from creeps. He knows that's the reason. Not that you're paranoid about him following you, no. He's your security blanket.

Maybe he should visit you tonight to reassure you he's still there.

-Zombie

Sksjsj the way I got immediately sucked into the paragraph at the first sentence … (//⊙ w ⊙//) I just love how delusional he is, thinking he’s doing a favor (which is a mind fuck cause he is sorta doing a favor ? But in a very extreme, intruding way).

Steve: Darling, there’s no need to be scared of me. I watch you at all times to protect you from creeps.

BFI: But you’re being a creep yourself by following me around !

Steve: *gets offended* no… that’s not … it’s not the same thing at all !

[marveldcmistress]

Its the pushing up his titties when he does it, and i know he does cuz i have to do the same when i cross my arms😅

Big titty problems

Walter Marshall’s soft chest, that is all.

[marveldcmistress]

CHRIS EVANS Assemble For Democracy

[marveldcmistress]

Y/N: Who can I trust…

Steve: Yourself.

Y/N: [scoffs]

Y/N: No.

[marveldcmistress]

Unexpected nip attack ! ψ(๑`꒳´๑)ψ

Shouldn’t be too glued to that phone, Ransom … ( • ̀ω•́ )✧

| #citronsfanart | Twitter |

[marveldcmistress]

Y/N: Looking back, I have no regrets.

Steve: *sighing* You probably should.

[marveldcmistress]

Who would give the best presents? (For the holidays maybe)

Jingle bells 🔔 Jingle bells 🔔 Jingle all the way 🎊

This is gonna be focused on holiday/Christmas gifts, but it also describes why--due to the type of presents the guys do give--they are good or 'bad.' It turned out to be NO NONSENSE and shorter than expected, my bad.

Listed in (vague) order of worst to best!

Jimmy Dobyne

Doesn't much see the value in gifts after childhood. Might offer a present here and there. Mostly only bothers with gifts when told he has to get something, whether that is by you in reminder for a party he's going to or for you on an occasion a friend tells him.

Johnny Storm

Shows up with a last-minute gift every time. No planning ahead. Apparently considers his presence a gift...even for your birthday 😒

Lloyd Hansen

Gets you gifts that he likes, basically for him, not you. At least someone enjoys them, right? Correct. If anyone should be appeased, it's Lloyd.

Ari Levinson

Not much of a holiday or celebration person but will step up for very special things. (Hint: it's not for Christmas, and Hanukkah hasn't been gift-focused since he was quite little. Mostly cares about your birthday and big life events.) Sadly, Ari also knows he's not the best gift giver, so...he stopped trying to get better a long time ago.

Curtis Everett

Really against 'stuff' for stuff's sake, so gifts are rare and meaningful but not expensive (unless you two have agreed on the cost of something extravagant). This is a guy you have to do ring shopping with before he proposes.

Ransom Drysdale

Buys you expensive gifts but not necessarily with you and your likes in mind. Sometimes he gets lucky, they're just plain awesome, and you love them that much more.

James Mace

Excessively practical. The use-to-expense ratio is always considered, probably too much.

Bucky Barnes

Very thoughtful, small gifts. He's been afraid of really big gestures and public declarations of any sort. Bucky also staunchly refuses to let anyone else wrap his gifts to others; start to finish, it has to be him choosing, buying, wrapping, and offering each gift.

Steve Rogers

Consistent in giving something for every holiday, anniversary, or event, even if it's just flowers.

*Bucky and Steve fall into the category of if they can hand-make a gift, they will at least try to make it themselves. It's a point of pride. They also baulk at the cost of everything these days, so they tend to keep the price of presents down. Making things from scratch tends to help that.

Andy Barber

Not afraid to drop some dough on your gifts AND always considers what you like, what looks good on you, or what you'll really use.

Jake Jensen

I rank Jake as the best gift giver not because he spends the most money or puts the most thought into each. He spends enough and he thinks enough, but Jake enjoys the process the most. He's so fucking happy to see your face light up (or for you to give him the evil-eye at a joke present). This makes the actual act of gifting with Jake the most exciting. He tries to pick a setting and time that enhances the experience of the gift--no matter how small or goofy the present. Yeah, the rating system here is subjective, but Jake still wins. Sorry not sorry.

Thank you for asking!

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[marveldcmistress]

went to the pub for a drink on my first real day off in over a week and watched the girl behind the bar drop the entire cash drawer on the floor in the middle of the rush and then just stare at it at her feet for like a solid two minutes

[marveldcmistress]

.⋆｡In the Blood｡⋆.

Alfie Solomons x plus size reader

The youngest Shelby sister was supposed to be the good one, the innocent one, but apparently she’s got some secrets of her own

Warnings: shelby!reader (unspecified as to whether she was adopted or not), nudity, protective Tommy, getting caught in the act (sex, sex is the act), mentions of unplanned pregnancies and castration WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Ada knew something was wrong with her little sister- she was skittish, hiding her eyes beneath caps and behind her hair, and most telling of all, she stopped coming to family meetings. The final straw came when the elder Shelby sister sat at the kitchen table, sipping on a cold cup of tea as Karl slept in a small bassinet by her chair. He had been a pain all night so Ada had resorted to staying up, gently rocking him with her foot.

Dawn was just starting to break when the front door opened. Ada was perfectly positioned at the kitchen table to see her little sister, who had just turned 21, walk into the house dressed in a coat that was far too big to be hers with her shoes in her hands. The grin on her face was wide and dazed- Ada knew that look well. She smiled and went back to her tea.

When Y/N finally did stumble down the stairs, 10 minutes past noon, Ada and Pol lay in wait. “Good morning princess.” She groaned in reply as she took the offered painkillers from her aunt. “Have a good night?” Ada teased.

“Was fine, just had some drinks with the girls.” Pol raised a dark eyebrow at her niece. 

“Oh really. And I suppose it was one of your ‘girls’ that gave you that bruise on your neck.” Y/N’s eyes widened comically and her hand flew to her throat in an attempt to hide where her skin was discoloured. But after a moment, she sagged into one of the kitchen chairs, knowing that she was caught.

“You won’t tell Tommy will you?”

Pol patted her hand lovingly. “Tommy won’t know until you’re ready to tell him but he will find out eventually. I think you’re old enough to have a couple secrets of your own.”

“It won’t be a secret for long if you get pregnant.” Ada murmured under her breath. Y/N’s head whipped around. Her eyes had that same dangerous gleam that Tommy’s got when he was planning something big.

“I actually know how to pull out Ada.” Pol choked on her tea, giving a very undignified snort that made her youngest niece beam. 

Ada rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Accidents happen.” Y/N’s smile grew wider, her eyes scrunching with its size.

“Speaking of, where is your little accident?” Her chair clattered to the floor as Ada shot up and dashed to her little sister. Anticipating this, Y/N darted away at the last second. She bounced on her toes like she was contemplating some big decision and, flipped off her sister. 

——————

One of the few freedoms that Y/N was given in her adulthood was her own apartment, though until recently, she had not spent much time there, favouring the family home on Watery Lane. But whenever she was at her own place, there was the tiny little condition that her siblings and her aunt each had their own key, for emergencies as John and Arthur claimed. Yet they respected their sister enough not to make use of these keys, until today that is.

Tommy shuffled up to the front door, hat low on his head as the freezing rain pelted him. It had been a stupid idea, a walk to calm the storm in his mind as black clouds descended over Birmingham. So he found himself here, at the door of his youngest and arguably favourite sister. 

He jammed his finger into the doorbell, distantly hearing it ring from the partially open window above him. Yet, there was no movement inside. Tommy sighed and glanced over his shoulder, it was at least another hour to walk back to the Garrison, there was no way he was going home to face Pol without at least one drink. The cold metal of his keys stung his palm as he fished them from his pocket; Y/N wouldn’t mind the intrusion, in fact she’d probably feed him before sending him on his way.

His cheeks burned with the change in temperature as he stepped into the hallway. A heavy thump and then a loud groan of pain came from somewhere above his head. “Y/N?” He called out, but received no reply. 

Tommy didn’t even bother to hang up his coat, taking the stairs two at a time he reached the landing in no time and with no hesitation, he threw open the front door, hand on the butt of his gun, fully prepared to deal with whatever situation his little sister had been thrust into.

But maybe not this.

His sweet baby sister was kneeling on the floor, stark naked, her back facing him (thankfully) with an equally naked man laying between her legs, hands on her hips and an obviously broken couch behind them.

“Tommy!” She yelped, her arms darting up to cover her chest as he instinctively spun around and faced the wall. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s raining. Who’s the man?” A deep chuckle soaked into the wallpaper, its familiarity almost mocking the gangster as his mood turned even more sour than it had been only minutes before. A soft slap followed, then the man’s heavy footsteps vanished into the bedroom.

“No one Tommy, just a boyfriend. You can turn around.” A greatly oversized men’s shirt concealed her body, the horrified expression on her face almost tugged at his heart strings, almost.

Tommy glared at her. “A boyfriend?” His words came out as more of a growl, his anger mounting. It was one thing for Y/N to have picked up a boy from the Garrison or at the market, as much as he hated the thought of anyone even looking at her, but to have hidden a boyfriend from the family? From him? 

She fought back the urge to roll her eyes at her older brother. “Yes. A boyfriend. You know, like most girls my age have.” 

“Not without my permission.” Her gaze hardened.

“I’m a grown woman Thomas.”

“Not when you keep secrets from me.” 

“Now that’s rich coming from you.” She scoffed. Tommy’s eye twitched. “I think more than half of the things you have said to me my entire life have been you lying to keep some secret or another. Why am I not allowed to have some of my own?” Her arms crossed over her chest, unwavering in her determination.

Tommy reached for his cigarettes but thought better of it. “That was business.”

Y/N opened her mouth to undoubtedly hit back at him with something clever that he would blame Polly for but before even a single sound had passed her lips, another voice rumbled through the small apartment, making his blood freeze. 

“Well it’s a damn good thing this was a business meetin, wasn’t it darling?” And suddenly, in his little sister’s living room, wearing only trousers and with a cigarette hanging from his lips, was Alfie Solomons. 

Tommy’s head whipped over to Y/N who now had her head in her hands. “Him?” Was all he could manage around the bubbling anger building in his throat. Alfie laughed and as if to add insult to the injury, wrapped a large arm around her waist, tugging her into his side. She refused to look at her brother, fixing her eyes firmly to the floor like she used to do when caught doing something she shouldn’t.

Alfie was practically beaming, gloating. “She’s done a very good job at keeping me secret from you. Even got me to hide in a fucking supply cubbord once.” A vein in Tommy’s head throbbed as he laid a palm over the butt of his gun.. “But ey, you must be proud, passing on those strong genes. She’ll be runnin circles around you in no time.”

“Alfie, I will fucking kill you.” She pleaded.

“It’s in the blood ain’t it? Can’t even imagine how sneaky our kids are gonna be considering our tendency to tell a little fib.”

“I’ll castrate you before that ever happens.” Tommy growled and finally pulled his gun clear of the holster but Alfie didn’t even flinch. In fact the man’s eyes sparkled with vindication.

“See, all in the blood.”

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[marveldcmistress]

I miss my man 💔💔😔😔😔 (he doesn’t exist and probably wouldn’t even like me if he did)

[marveldcmistress]

Dead Gentleman's Society - A Vampire!Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

Here we go, besties. The next installment for my Vampire Soirée! Enjoy :)

Words - 1,320

Warnings - A little sorrowful, but none otherwise

“I’ll be locking the gates in ten minutes, love.” 

Turning away from the grave, you see the cemetery maintenance man pull up in his little buggy, nodding with a smile. “Okay, thanks. I won’t be long now.” Looking back at the shiny, black marble of her headstone, you sigh, kissing your fingers and placing them against the smooth, cold surface.  

“Love you so much, bubbe.” 

God, how you miss her. The warmth of her hugs, her stories from a joyous life gone by, the aromas from her kitchen, especially the smells of chicken soup and roast lamb filling the air. If there was a quintessential Jewish grandmother archetype, she’d have been the blueprint. It still doesn’t seem real, that you were only there in that kitchen with her just six weeks ago, and now she’s in the ground.  

She might have been eighty-seven, but the good innings commentary never sat well with you at all. Just because somebody lived a long life does not mean the pain their loved ones face is any less poignantly piercing when they come to leave it behind.  

Standing up, you straighten your coat, turning to walk back down to the main path and out of the rear gates of the cemetery, noticing there the same man you’ve witnessed a few times, appearing as soon as the sun goes down, standing beneath the baren weeping willow tree, her luscious, green canopy stolen by the chill of Autumn. He never broaches the cemetery perimeter itself. He always directs his gaze over to the graves along the left of the gate, never flinching, never blinking, but an obvious mourning almost viscerally palpable in his steely blue eyes.  

You always simply walk past him, but on that particular cold, October evening, something prompts you not to.  

“Hi,” you speak, the man taking a few seconds to tear his eyes away from the graves. 

“Mm, ‘ello, love.”  

You linger, tucking your hair behind your ear, following his gaze across the grass that’s beginning to crisp with frost as the temperature drops. “I’ve seen you here a few times, but you’ve never gone in.” 

Lifting his chin, he raises his hand slowly, gesturing between the bars of the gates. “Nah, well, here’s the thing, my darlin’. That place in there, right, it ain’t for the likes of me. Hallowed ground, innit. So, everyone I’ve loved an’ lost, I have to go visit ‘em from out here, don’t I?” 

You did wonder, why he was so pale. “Ahh. You’re a vampire.”  

They’ve been out in the open for a while now, the undead of society. It took a long time for people to settle to the idea, but you’ve never really had any issue with them. Some can be cold, standoffish and temperamental, but you’ve encountered plenty of humans of the same disposition, too. It isn’t a vampire specific, although more often than not, they can be quite aloof.  

“Ain’t scared of me? Most people are, when I tell ‘em what it is that I am,” he finally speaks, eyes touring you a few times, studying you. “Then again, if they ‘ad much sense, people were scared of me when I was alive an’ all.”  

You shake your head, mouth pinching a little. “I don’t fear anyone unless they give me reason to. Unless it’s those lads in hoodies who carry machetes and prowl around Court Oak Road. They scare me,” you confide, the vampire sniffing, his lip curling.  

“Yeah, don’t blame ya, petal. Right horrible little bunch of cunts, they are. Excuse my language.” 

Oh, so he’s quite gentlemanly. You can’t even remember the last time a man excused his swearing in front of you, or even if it’s ever happened before. “S’alright, I cuss my arse off. You’re fine. And yeah, I can imagine for someone like you, the machete lads are right at the bottom of the food chain.” 

His eyes narrow, something a little sinister spreading his mouth into a grin. “When I could eviscerate all of ‘em in the blink of an eye, yeah, darlin’. You could say that.” His shoulders round, the thick, wool coat he wears making his wide frame look even vaster. “I ain’t much in the market for violence, though. Not unless I’ve gotta show someone why they shouldn’t - what’s that term you young people use now – fuck around and find out?” 

“That’s it,” you nod, watching as his eyes fall back onto the graves, the street light just to the side of the curb flickering into life. He looks even paler beneath the halogen glow. “Who’s over there, then? It’s sad, that this is as close to them as you can get.” 

Touching a hand to your shoulder, he turns you, pointing out towards the row of headstones that form a row beside a large tree. “Mother, father, brother, brother, sister, wife, daughter, daughter, son.” His mouth twists, his eyes saddening. “Everyone, they always go on at how great it must be to become a vampire, right, but nah. They don’t tell you how fuckin’ tragic it is to watch everybody you’ve ever loved die, and how that’s the way it’ll be for centuries.” 

You always assumed vampires to be quite unfeeling emotionally for some reason. Such a stance is very much proved wrong by the one who stands there, unable to even properly visit the last resting place of his loved ones. He seems hugely far removed from that assertion, riddled with the sorrow of his existence, seemingly with nobody familial to share it with.  

The sweet charity in you prompts the next words that fall from your lips in an instant, cocking your head as you smile. “I know you vampires only drink blood, but I was going to head to the coffee shop at the top of the hill to warm up a little. You’re welcome to join me, should you need a friend?” 

His eyes soften. Oh, such a sweet little thing, you are. He could get used to such loveliness breathing new life into his existence, only broken in its regime by a thrilling hunt to the death upon a deserving mortal, or a mind-blowing fuck. “I’ll pass it up, love. I don’t do friends.”

“Oh.” You feel embarrassed, the vampire’s mouth curling into a small smile. 

“Don’t take it personally. Humans, you only mean two things to me; a feed or a fuck. Sometimes both at the same time. And I ain’t offering that either.” 

You frown, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “Bloody spoil sport.” 

He isn’t, though. He just sees something shine in you with more luminescence than the rest of the faces he forgets as soon as he leaves them, thousands of meaningless connections left behind over the last century. He shan’t taint it with his perpetual darkness. “You seem like a proper lovely little flower, right, one I could come to grow right fond of. I ain’t gonna let myself, though. Cos’ there ain’t nothing, my darlin’, not even living death, that makes you cold enough to endure the loneliness that everyone else's mortality inevitably leaves you in, innit. Nah.”  

He strokes the apple of your cheek with the back of his finger. “You ain’t becoming another headstone I have to stare at from afar. Too fuckin’ lovely for that.” 

You’re about to tell him that you understand – or at least as much as you’re able – but in a blink he’s gone, leaving you spinning on the spot, searching through the inky darkness of the night for him.  

“Oh, well,” you sigh, “easy come, easy go.”  

You feel sad for him, but also warmed by the fact that even though you can’t see him, you sense that the vampire follows you all the way to the coffee shop before departing properly, just to make sure you arrive safely.  

Trust the only gentleman you’ve met in years to be dead.  

[marveldcmistress]

In his hands

I rewatched peaky blinders and have undeniably fallen in love with Alfie’s hands, especially his tattoos. So this fic will be about an obsession with his hands, enjoy xx

content warning: none

You were sitting close together in the quiet of Alfie’s study, the air thick with the scent of ink and whiskey. The room was dim, the firelight casting a warm glow across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the rugged lines that seemed to carry the weight of a life lived on his own terms. Your gaze drifted from his face to his hands, your attention captured by the dark ink that decorated his knuckles, winding across his skin in intricate, almost hypnotic patterns.

You reached out, your fingertips brushing over the tattoos on his hands, tracing each line with a kind of reverence. Alfie stilled, watching you, a bemused smirk playing at his lips. Your touch was light, almost shy, but there was a quiet intensity to it, something that spoke of fascination and unspoken attraction. Without thinking, you wrapped your fingers around his, lifting his hands and bringing them to your face. You pressed his palms to your cheeks, your skin warm against the calloused roughness of his hands, your eyes shining as you looked up at him.

Alfie raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “What’s this, then?” he murmured, his tone laced with amusement. “Can’t resist me hands, treacle?”

A blush spread across your cheeks, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you met his gaze with a soft, smitten smile, your fingers lacing through his as you held his hands to your face. There was a vulnerability in the way you looked at him, an openness that made his heart beat just a little faster. He could feel the warmth of your skin against his palms, the way your gaze softened, darkened, as you took in every detail.

“You’re lookin’ at me like I’m a damn work of art,” he teased, his voice a low, affectionate rasp. “I could use to this, real fuckin used to it”

You laughed softly, a quiet, breathless sound. “Maybe it’s you,” you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper, “or maybe it’s the way you carry yourself. Strong… confident.” Your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink, but you didn’t look away.

He chuckled, his thumb brushing over your chin, feeling the softness of your skin under his touch. “Is that right?” he murmured, his voice dropping as his fingers tilted your face up slightly. “You like the feel of me hands on you, yeah? Could’ve just asked.”

A shiver ran through you , and you didn’t answer, you only closed your eyes as his thumb grazed over your cheekbone, down to your chin. You felt yourself melt, your usual reserve slipping away under the weight of his touch, the slow, deliberate way he explored your expression, your softness.

Unable to resist, You leaned forward, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the crown tattoo that adorned his knuckles. Your lips were soft against his skin, your touch leaving a warmth that lingered even after you pulled away.

He tilted his head, a glint of mischief and warmth in his eyes as he watched you. “Well now, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and rumbling, “you keep that up, and I’m gonna have to show you what else these hands can do.”

Your breath was caught, but you didn’t look away, your fingers tightening around his. You were captivated, helpless under the weight of his gaze, knowing you’d let him do whatever he wanted. In that quiet moment, with his hands framing your face, it felt as if the whole world had narrowed to just the two of you, to his touch and the heat simmering between the both of you, waiting to be unleashed.

[marveldcmistress]

Tom Hardy Kinktober Day 30 - Wildcard 3 [Alfie Solomons]

Temperature Play

You watch Aflie swirl the icecubes in his glass. "What are you gazing at?" He rumbles. You smile a sectretive little smile. "Close your eyes, you'll find out." You purr. Alfie rolls his eyes, but he shuts them all the same. "Fine, I'll indulge you." He murmurs.

You reach into his glass, taking a piece of the ice and popping into your mouth and then slipping into his lap. You tilt his head back and attach your cold mouth to his throat. Alfie grunts hoarsely. "Fucking hell my girl." He tangles his fingers into your hair. You move your mouth to his neck, the piece of ice keeping your mouth. Cold droplets run from your lips down his collarbone, into his chest hair. Alfie shudders.

His trousers begin to tent.

You slip into his lap. He grabs you by the hips and rocks against you.

You grab another piece of ice to cool your mouth once again. Then you kiss him fiercely. Alfie grunts against his lips. "More, more of you." He growls. Your tongues dance around the ice cube and his pelvis bucks up at yours. "Yes, please." You whisper. You grind down on him.

Alfie's hands tug at your skirts and he feeds another ice cube into your mouth. You work your cold lips on his neck and throat while he trails cold droplets along your shoulders and the back of your neck. You moan in unison. "Let me inside you." Alfie nips the shell of your ear. You moan and the ice cube tumbles from your lips. Alfie picks it up, bringing his hand under your skirts to insert it inside you. You gasp at the feeling.

He grabs you by the hips and sets you on the table.

"Yes?" He furrows his brow. You nod quietly. He starts to push in every last ice cube, one after the other. You shudder and moan. Then swiftly Alfie opens his trousers and pulls out his cock. "Sit down." He growls. You oblige, sinking down on his cock. You moan loudly in unison. "Bloody hell, wicked little slut." Alfie grunts, bucking into you.