“What Do You Wanna Be When You Grow Up?”

“These girls have to deal with men in their lives everyday who they don’t listen to them, they don’t ask them what they want. They don’t even ask them what they want…”  (Donald Glover in Magic Mike XXL (2015), directed by Gregory Jacobs)

This is so hot

His Favorite

Day 23:  Thigh riding (Poe Dameron x F!Reader)

(For the 2021 Kinktober event offered by @beeschaos and @withlove-sid.  The original post and calendar/list can be found here.)  

CW:  Smut (thigh riding, as the title implies); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4190

AN:  This is very late - apologies!  Tide and time wait for no overly ambitious kinktober schedule.

The hangar is mostly dark:  only a pool of light remains in your mechanic bay.  The Resistance mostly runs on cobbled-together ships and a lot of prayers to whatever deities oversee the star system you’re currently hiding in.  But you make the best of it, and you take pride in your work.  You’ve never had a single ship – freighter or X-wing or otherwise – fail mechanically on your watch.

Tonight’s fun project?  Fixing Poe Dameron’s X-wing.  The Resistance might as well assign a dedicated mechanic to Dameron’s ships because he tends to fly them rough, land them hard, and then demand they work flawlessly for the next mission.

The man is a certified pain in the ass.

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WARNING SOPILERS: Alice In Borderland S2E7

S2E7 of Alice In Borderland has left with several emotional distress and a long ass crying session

My heart hurts, like I couldn't get a break, it went back to back to back forever

Then I start S2E8

WHAAAAATTTTTTT

Voight: And that concludes our plan for the search.

Jay: Alright, Mouse, you’re up.

Mouse, walking to the front of the group: Now, let’s see how much you guys were paying attention.

[Kahoot music starts playing]

Cairo Sunshine || Marc Spector x Reader

-> Rating: 18+

-> Word count: 2.3K

-> After arriving in Egypt, you and Marc sit in your underwear to ease the searing heat.

TW/CW: only slight religious imagery, but don’t read if you don’t like. Thigh riding. Just a whole load of gratuitous thigh riding. My attempt to be artsy. Dominant Marc vibes, use of the word “Sir” in a dom/sub sense.

Warmth radiates from the metal balcony railing beneath your elbows as you lean out into the dry Egyptian air. The streets of Cairo bustle underneath your feet, the smell of saffron and lamb kebabs drifting from busy restaurants and colorful Moroccan patterns worn by passers by catching your eye in the unrelenting brilliance of the intense daylight. It’s a world away from the monotonous grey of harsh, cold, brutalist London.

Sunlight kisses your skin, flooding your sticky skin with a relaxing warmth. The heat was so intense when you entered the hotel room after climbing three floors that you had stripped down to your mustard-colored lace underwear in an attempt to cool down. You exhale slowly, allowing yourself to feel the dopamine that sweeps through your system at the heat that you had been so sorely lacking in your apartment back home. It certainly wasn’t a holiday that you were here for, but for a moment you could convince yourself that you were here for relaxation.

Turning on your bare heel, you glance back into the hotel room to find Marc exactly where you had left him. He was sitting on the floor, the only place in the entire room that had the ability to cool him down, in only his tight boxers. Leaning his bare back against the frame of the bed, Marc’s legs are sprawled out as he balances a half-empty bottle of rum in his lap.

His body has a sheen of sweat, the tanned skin of his arms glistening under the sun as he raises the bottle to his lips. You love this look on him, the view not that far removed from how he looked when you’d had a particularly rough round of sex. Damp curls fall against his forehead and into his eyes, a faint red-brown flush burning against his cheeks.

The view of his body isn’t so much what catches your undivided attention, however. It’s the way he stares at you. Lazy, hooded eyes partly concealed the smoldering gaze that traced the slopes of your body. You can see him blink slowly in the bright sunlight, not once taking those coffee iris’ away from the stunning view in front of him. He’s almost drinking you in, relishing the way the yellow lace hugs your curves and accentuates your beauty more than the spice of the rum that coats his tongue. You’re far more addictive.

Unable to help yourself, you feel the corner of your lips tug up under his gaze as you return his scrutiny with your own. You pass your observance over his face, taking in the little details there that you loved so much. Sure, you adored his eyes and the way they undressed you in the dark, his nose for its ability to brush against your clit when he ate you out, and the incredible prowess of his tongue and the way it would help you see stars on cloudy nights. However, you also had a deep admiration for the more subtle intricacies of his profile.

Marc had a delicate, raised scar that ran through his lower eyelid under his right eye. The delicate, pale reparative tissue would shine silver under the moonlight, like Khonsu’s very own signature brand. It wasn’t the only blemish that Marc carried. He had two pockmarks, one on his cheek just above his smile line and the other on his chin, both from childhood. Above his right eyebrow was a soft, brown freckle. It was often the target of your affections, as you would press a gentle kiss against it in the morning on the rare occasion you awoke together. Finally, you loved the creases in the corners of his eyes, crevices in the delicate skin, residue from years of laughter.

Pushing yourself from the balcony, you find your legs carrying you across the cool, tiled flooring to bridge the gap between you. Marc’s dilated pupils, blown wide from the alcohol he had consumed, follow your form with that same heady gaze that devoured you. When you reach his feet, you slowly sink to your knees. Marc was in servitude to a true Egyptian deity, but fuck you would bow to him in supplication as though Marc was your one true God. No one performed miracles with their fingers the way he could, no being could make you believe the way he did or could pull prayers from your lungs as often as he.

The idol that you deemed a divine being simply watched silently as you crawled up the length of his body until you were settling your hips against his thighs. They’re shiny with a sheen of sweat under the blistering Egyptian heat, accentuating his muscular quads residing beneath the tanned expanse of his skin. Thick and strong, you settled the weight of your body against his femur.

Digging your teeth into the soft flesh of your lips, you brush strands of your hair from where they cling to your forehead as you observe his expression- or lack thereof. He’s completely monotonous, something you have become used to. Marc had a habit of maintaining a relatively dominant personality in the bedroom, the only thing he felt he still had control over under his contracted role with Khonsu. He relished in being able to lose himself to you while having full jurisdiction.

“What are you doing?” He murmurs, his voice low and thick after using it for the first time since you had arrived. The timbre settles deep in the pits of your abdomen, curling hot and sweet against the base of your spine. You can smell the rum on his breath, syrupy and bold with the tang of his own sweat. You’ve not drunk any, but you’re already intoxicated.

“I’m going for a ride,” you whisper, voice lilting with a flirtatious tone because you know he likes it. Experimentally, you lightly graze your clothed cunt over the flesh of his thigh. You need his approval, his permission to go further. You know he won’t give it verbally, so you keep your eyes glued to his expression for any sign of acceptance.

Achingly slowly, Marc raises the bottle of rum to his mouth and takes another swig of the liquid that wets his lips. He keeps his eyes settled on you as he drinks the strong alcohol down as though it’s water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows it down. When satiated, he sets the bottle down on the tiles beside him. It’s only a quarter full now.

Marc settles back into the frame of the bed, raising his elbows so they rest upon the mattress behind him. His hands dangle from the wrist, suspended in the air as he looks at you pointedly as if to say ‘well?’. You don’t waste his time. Immediately your hips drag hot and heavy against his glistening thigh, a soft sigh of relief escaping your lungs as you feel the friction against your clit.

Your palms settle on Marc’s slick pecs, whining softly as the gentle friction indulges in the ache that had settled between your thighs, but only slightly. You’re easing into it, starting off slow. Never would you dream of rushing something like this with Marc. You wanted this feeling to last as long as possible. Every single time.

Sinking your teeth into the flesh of your lip, you focus more on the pressure of your cunt against Marc’s thigh. With each drag of your clit, you feel your breathing get a little heavier, sweat beading at your temples.

“Look at you, Pretty Thing,” Marc’s accent drawls slightly, the heat lacing his tone with a laziness that’s far too suggestive for you to ignore. You whimper for him, needing to feel his hands on you, but you know Marc won’t give into you that easily. No, he keeps his elbows rooted to the bed, forcing you to do all the work as he enjoys the view.

Perhaps it was the way your clit rolled so perfectly against his thigh, catching the seam of your panties to add an extra layer of friction, but you swore he’d never looked so sexy. Beads of sweat run down Marc’s neck, following the line of his jugular and looking in the concave of his clavicle. His gold-plated Star of Davis necklace rests delicately in the juncture of his collar bones, glinting in the sunlight. His lips, usually chapped from the way Steven would anxiously chew on them, were moist from the rum he had been nursing. They looked so kissable-

“Marc, please,” you beg softly, the pace of your shifting hips increasing of their own accord. Your hands move from his shoulders, settling just under the coupling where his leg met his hip in an attempt to gain a better grip. His skin is slippery, hands sliding despite the grip of your fingers due to the humidity building in the room.

“Ask nicely,” he’s not patronizing you, he expects that at the very least. His eyes are expectant while he waits for your lips to form around the word, the pleasure beginning to pool between your thighs making it harder for the command from your brain to bridge the synapses in order to speak.

“Plea-“ you’re cut off by an involuntary gasp that is punched from your lungs as a tendril of white-hot pleasure wraps itself around the base of your spine. “Please, please Sir,” you address him by the name you know he loves, “Please touch me, Sir.”

Slowly, he slips his elbows from the mattress behind him so they fall by his sides, calloused knuckles scarred from years of brutal mercenary work brushing up the outside of your thighs with such a delicate touch you’d be forgiven for thinking they’d never experienced such violence. You can’t help the lewd moan that works its way up your throat at the knowledge that he was only this gentle with you. Only ever you. You you you.

Fuck, and then he’s adding to your pleasure all at once. His quads purposely flex as you pull your hips upwards against the skin, towards his pelvis, and ease again when you pull your hips back. He’s got the timing perfect, much better at reading the wants and needs of your body than you could even understand it yourself. His palms are skating your waist, fingertips tracing each of your ribs like harp strings and the whimpers he produces from you are the most rousing melody.

See, Marc had never had to touch you in your erogenous zones. Around him, you never had any. Everywhere he touched was arousing in the most spectacular way, whether that be holding your elbow as he guided you through crowds, or the fine touch of his fingerprint against your forehead when he cleaned a wound from walking into the kitchen cupboard at that tiny flat back in London. Any contact with Marc, big or small, caused your body to react to him.

“Sir- Oh-,” you’re stumbling over your words as his thumbs brush over your nipples through the lace of your underwear. Goosebumps litter your skin despite the scorching heat.

“Pretty Thing,” he muses, looking up at you with that same intense gaze that made your insides melt, “You like that, don’t you.” It’s not so much of a question as it is a statement, a simple observation of the way your body answers the question for him.

“Just like that, pleasesirjustlikethat,” you ramble weakly, hazy eyes glancing down to see your release having seeped through the thin fabric of your panties and painted a slick trail against his thigh. At any other moment, you’d be embarrassed by just how intensely your body reacted to him, but you were too far gone at the precipice of an orgasm that Marc was doing barely anything to draw from you.

“Are you going to cum, Pretty Thing?” He questions you, voice low but with a grit to it that you only really hear when he’s turned on. You mean to nod, but it’s like your brain's receptors have been switched or tangled because you shake your head weakly, jaw slack and lips parted in bliss as your orgasm builds. No matter, Marc doesn’t need verbal confirmation anyway.

His hand reaches up at the speed of light, taking ahold of your throat in a grip you know will leave bruises as he pulls you down so your lips meet his own. That’s all you need, the plush flesh of his lips pressed against the raw, chewed skin of your own as his tongue traces the remnants of the buttery, creamy flavor of run against your tastebuds.

It obliterates you. You cum with a desperate cry of his name, cunt spasming around nothing as it rips searing plasma through your veins. Your skin buzzed with energy, your back arching backwards as your hips stutter to a halt but Marc’s grabbing your hips with his free hand and continues to guide your hips along his tensed thigh and it’s so much. So much and so good-

The relief that floods you is immediate, but so is the heat as you collapse against Marc’s chest with a broken whimper. It’s disgusting, you’re both dripping with sweat and it’s just so hot in this room but with the afterglow of your orgasm, it’s hard to find it in yourself to complain about the way your flesh sticks to his as you lay there in his arms.

Wordlessly, Marc reaches to the side and collects the rum bottle once more. You hear the glass drag against the tiling of the floor as he picks it up, the liquid sloshing inside of it as he raises it to his lips and continues to drink in the quiet of the hotel room, the only sounds he can hear being your heavy breath and the bustling streets as he basks in the dying light of the Cairo sunshine.

END

🏷 Taglist: @polaroidpetal @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @xwing-baby

I LOVE THIS!!! This is totally soothing that would happen irl!

How Much Is Too Much?

Pairing:Husband!Henry Cavill x Doctor!Reader

Summary: Fans retell the best parts of the relationship

Warnings: none

- Requests are open!

Likes, Comments And Re-Blogs are appreciated

masterlist✨

Henry Cavill Masterlist 💫

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

@/loverbunny: Does anyone remember that one Henry Cavill interview where he just kept bringing up Y/n? It’s so cute how his eye twinkles whenever her name’s mentioned and he’s also so proud of her and her career. Saying quote on quote, “i’m proud to be her man”

@/jessicashaw: I had to take my little sister to an appointment to the local hospital and she was literally treated by Dr. Y/n L/n, apparently she was there to cover a random shift? Idk but she was so nice and helpful😭 After the check up she gave my sister SUPERMAN STICKERS?!

@/Ghostedfortoast: I was at the background shoot for one of Henry Cavill's movies and I heard him talking about how his wife was opening a free walk in clinic for the homeless, and I swear I saw that man's heart get a boner

@/thereallife: I saw Cavill at an award show, and I kid you not mid award show, he saw his wife was arriving outside the venue. This man walked back outside and accompanied her in through the red carpet, and since all the photographers had left. HE WAS KNEELING JUST TO GET HER ANGLES RIGHT WHEN TAKING HER PICS

@/beesnothoney: Nah because in Henry's new interview, actually lemme just quote this man, “My wife is so amazing, she was actually my medic on set, so I was around her all the time. It was brilliant, I loved it” AND THEN HIS CO STAR WAS COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW MUCH NOISE WOULD BE COMING FROM HENRY'S TRAILER KILLS ME.

@/leavemealone: I work in Pull&Bear and I saw Henry and Y/n walk in at around 7pm i’m guessing after her work because she was in scrubs. I think she was trying to buy the new winter jacket we had but the poor girl looked exhausted. Henry had to put it on her and zipped it all the way so it covered her head, AND HE UNZIPPED IT JUST ENOUGH TO KISS HER THEN THEY FOUGHT OVER WHO WOULD PAY UNTIL HE SNEAKILY PASSED ME HIS CARD

@/1990firefly: Henry Cavill came into the build a bear I work and got a dog stuffy and dressed it like a doctor. But here’s the best part. IN AN INTERVIEW Y/N REVEALED HE CALLS HER 'PUP' 😭😭. ➥@/pandalove: I HEARD HE CARRIES THAT BEAR WHEN HE TRAVELS ABROAD WITHOUT HERR🥹

@/jumpinglacks: My mum once worked a shift with Y/n L/n, and said her husband (Hen obvs) came during their break to bring her out for lunch. I hate being single.

@/tiredturtleegg: I saw the Cavill couple out in town yesterday, kid you not he was feeding her the spaghetti and anytime she’d reach for her fork he’d slap it away 🥲

@/denisethemenace: Anyone remember when Y/n L/n first revealed she was pregnant, and the reason she found out was because Cavill realised her tits had grown bigger. This man never fails to surprise me ➥ @/livingfreedead: DONT FORGET HE SAID HE WAS JUST DOING HIS REGULAR TOUCH UP OMG😭‼️

@/greekathenanice: Y/n just said in her 73 questions video that whenever their son can’t sleep, he reads her anatomy books and tries to teach Henry things about the body. This kid is like 4. How.

@/floralflower: Whenever you think about settling for less. Remember that when Y/n was pregnant Henry literally sewed her scrubs that would fit her then drove her to and from work☝️

@/letmeliveplease: Henry Cavill gushing over his wife’s maternity photos during a Buzzfeed interview, is everything. That man started tearing up because he loves her so much, NO MAN COULD EVER COMPARE

@/treatsweet: Henry revealing that Y/n only likes to bathe with him now is so cute, apparently it’s because that’s the only time the baby decides to kick and be active

@/HenryCavill: Y/n refuses to talk to me because I forgot to buy her cookie dough ice cream on the way home. This is my public apology. I’m sorry pup, please let me back into the bedroom, I want a hug. ➥@/DrY/nL/N-Cavill: Yeah okay. Your son (and I) Misses you. Love you♥️

In love with this gif

condemnation in disguise.

premise: no matter how many times the two of you do this, how many times you tear each other down and build each other back up, your heart still aches for him.

pairing: marc spector x (f)reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: steven is present/implied, dark undertones, toxic relationship, volatile arguments, breaking things, anger issues, unprotected rough sex, biting, scratching, hair pulling, pain kink, blood and wound mention, smoking and drinking, pov change at the end. 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI.

etc: please take the ‘toxic relationship’ warning seriously besties lmao. i’ve officially entered my unhinged thirst era, marc owns my coochie and steven owns my heart, end of discussion.

you can also find the playlist for this insanity here!

i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!

The thumping of your heart has yet to subside; the organ jack hammering inside of your chest cavity like a caged animal trying to escape, your rib cage feeling bruised from the deep thudding. The adrenaline in your body doing the opposite, settling itself the more you puff on the cigarette between your fingers, the more the hot breeze coming through the curtains hits your already flaming flesh as you sit in front of the window on one of the flimsy hotel chairs.

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One kind of intern

(A/N): This was requested by @greenslifestuff :) It took me a week or two because I had to interact with my friends in order to get the inspiration I needed 😅 Summary: The team gets to work with a gen z teenager. Let’s see how that goes.

Warnings: Swearing and gen z humour

Wordcount: 2k

✨Masterlist✨

___________________________________

“Team, this is (Y/N) (L/N). She will be interning for the upcoming three months alongside this team. (Y/N), these are Agents Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid and our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia”, Hotch introduces a teenage girl to his team like this happens every day.

“Wait Hotch, we don’t get interns. What is she going to do, no offense, but getting us coffee or what?” Morgan eyes her suspiciously. She looks like any teenager grabbed from the street. A band t-shirt, a torn pair of jeans and a cup from starbucks in her hands. Nothing you would expect to even enter a federal building.

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Elena's Tips on how to show that woman you're into her:

1) shoot at her so she can trace your bullet and get your name and entire dossier and eventually have a conversion with you. This is a first date.

2) hold someone hostage with a bomb tied to them and make the code something deeply personal to her. This let's her know you remember the little things, like the name of her mother's killer.

3) break into her vehicle and put a change of clothes in the trunk so she'll have to bring you clothes. This is domestic. Shows you're ready for commitment.

4) frame her husband. Just frame her husband.

5) make her husband divorce her. this is a cute way to show you're jealous of him.

6) okay, offer to clear her husband's name. You don't like to see her sad. This shows you care.

I'm seated Ms. Federova. Continue.