Just a Belle waiting for her Beast to come, who loves her Marvel Men. An ameture poet, photographer, painter and scrapbooker. A professional dork, aunt and fangirl.
FLORENCE PUGH
Hair styled by Hyungsun Ju, makeup by Alex Babsky and styling by Rebecca Corbin-Murray ahead of the Dracula press night, February 17th 2026
I have a job interview a four… also applied for a different job today. I haven’t had a job in over 8yrs y’all. Pray for me/wish me luck. I’m so freaking nervous 🥴😩
There's this whole story unfolding on TikTok right now about this account that got popular — a woman in the US who calls up churches & pretends to have a starving newborn that hasn't eaten since last evening & asks them if they could help her out with a can of formula. Unsurprisingly, none of the ridiculous megachurches actually ever say yes, and the churches & other religious institutions that did say yes are getting lots of support from people.
But I just saw a video of a TT user explaining that they decided to do their own little social experiment — by walking up to drug dealers on the street, telling them there's a young woman with a baby who needs help with formula, and literally all of them immediately reached into their pockets. In this story, the OP did have a real neighbor with a baby who ended up getting some much needed baby supplies. Thanks to the charity of local drug dealers.
A lot of Americans are learning that their rich white Christian churches are less willing to help their communities than black churches, mosques, buddhist temples & apparently also crack dealers.
clark kent is an undeniably gentle lover—clumsy at times, almost bashful, his movements hesitant in a way that’s endearing. sometimes, he looks to you for reassurance, those soft blue eyes pleading, asking if he’s making you feel good.
and he always does.
he knows your body so well it’s almost frustrating. his hands, his mouth, the way his voice drops just slightly when he whispers your name—it’s enough to leave you trembling every time.
he always tells you that you do. “perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm and uneven as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his voice is wrecked, raw in a way that makes you believe him—for a moment.
but there are things you’ve started to notice.
like the way he lingers for just a second too long, his lips brushing your temple as if hesitating to pull away or draw you closer. or how his hands tremble slightly when they release you, the strength behind them still careful, too careful. then, there are the moments he waits for you to fall asleep—the soft creak of the mattress, the shuffle of his feet as he slips out of bed, barely disturbing the air.
it’s always the same. the quiet click of the bathroom door, the faint rush of water as he turns on the shower.
you know what he’s doing in there.
and it eats at you, imagining him under the stream of hot water, head tilted back, his chest heaving as he works through the need that still claws at him. need that you weren’t able to fully satisfy.
once, you caught him. half-asleep and bleary-eyed, you stirred when the bed dipped, his weight returning as if nothing had happened. his skin was still damp, his hair darker and curling against his forehead.
but you want to be the one to help him blow off that steam.
“just blowing off some extra steam,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead.
no, you need to be the one.
you want him completely undone—panting, his chest heaving, red staining his cheeks while he’s too wrecked to say anything but your name. you want him shaking with pleasure, the same way he leaves you, winded and unable to think of anything else.
you want him gasping, moaning louder, his voice breaking apart as he tries to keep himself together. you want to see spit pooling at the corners of his lips, his body shuddering uncontrollably. you want him to blow load after load—on you, with you, inside you—until neither of you can take any more.
you just have to make sure you don’t turn the tables on yourself.
“you got another one for me, hun?” clark pleads, his voice soft but ragged.
his curls stick to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his face is flushed deeper than you’ve ever seen. his big hands hold your hips gently, fingers twitching as if he’s trying to resist gripping you tighter.
you’re blubbering, incoherent, your eyes unfocused as your nails scrape at his shoulders. it’s ridiculous trying to leave marks on steel skin, but the feeling of him, the weight of him, makes it impossible to stay still.
you’ve finally managed to corner him. after weeks, nearly a month of easing him into the idea that you could keep up with him, he let you try. and now he’s showing you a side of himself you’ve never seen before.
his body trembles against yours, his movements are frantic, urgent, a stark contrast to the measured pace he usually sets. your legs ache as you struggle to keep up, your body pliant and exhausted, while he bucks up against you, doing most of the work after you had given up on riding him.
he moves you easily, up and down his cock, his strength apparent even in his restraint. his head falls back against the headboard, blue eyes locked on yours, his glasses long discarded.
in all honesty, you don’t know if you have another one in you. you’d lost count three orgasms ago. you must’ve been delusional thinking you could keep up with clark kent, a man who is finally breaking a sweat, his broken moans and soft whimpers starting to turn into ones you’ve never heard from him before. even after cumming countless times, making a mess of your sheets, he still wants more, asks for it, begs for it—he needs more, he can take more, wants to give you more.
the slow drag of his cock, sliding in and out of you, has you mewling, tears staining your cheeks as the pleasure mounts again. his grip is firm but careful, guiding you, ensuring you can take everything he’s giving.
he makes you feel so good. your body trembling in his hands, every nerve alight and melting under his touch. you’ve become putty for him to mould.
it’s a little embarrassing, honestly—that he’s got you like this. you were supposed to be the one pleasing him, breaking him down, undoing him. not the other way around.
but he seems perfectly satisfied with the way things are right now.
you’re fully collapsed onto him now, your strength all but gone. his hips jerk upwards, his movements frantic and desperate, breath puffing hot air against your ear.
“can you… can you look at me?” he pleads, his voice cracking as his hands shift from your hips to cradle your face, tilting your head so you’re staring into his glassy, almost desperate eyes. “look at me while you come—it’ll make me come, too. please.”
you mean to whine, his touch burning against your skin, but the sound catches in your throat when you see him.
he looks utterly wrecked.
his eyes are clouded, unfocused, his lips slick and parted, his brow furrowed with something between pain and pure desire. you imagine you look much the same—spit glistening on your chin, cheeks flushed and tear-streaked, wetness trailing down your thighs.
he holds your gaze for a moment, his thumb brushing your lower lip before slipping into your mouth.
then, both of you move at once—you surge forward to kiss him, capturing those perfect, pink lips, your movements slow and languid while he remains restless. he adjusts to your pace, pulling you impossibly closer.
his blue eyes roll back as he thrusts into you again. one hand traces lines up your spine while his lips devour yours, leaving you trembling and teetering on the edge within minutes.
his kisses turn softer, trailing to your cheek, his teeth catching on your skin as he nips gently. “i’m not hurting you, am i?” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “i know it’s sensitive, baby. tell me if it’s too much, okay? i can stop if—”
“no, please,” you whimper, terrified he might actually stop. “it’s so good.”
you’re drunk with desire, clenching tightly around him.
“you feel so good, baby. so fucking good. you’re taking me so well.” his next thrust is sharp, deep, dragging a cry from your lips as he stills, buried to the hilt. “you’re gonna make me come again,” he groans, his voice breaking.
“fuck, please—”
“i want you to come for me again,” he interrupts, his desperation bleeding through. “you’re so tight and hot when you do. i need it again—please, baby, one more for me. can you give me one more?”
“i—yeah,” you nod, trembling, your body already vibrating on the verge of release.
he hardly gives you a moment to recover before he’s crooning, “one more, just one more, please, please, please—”
Attn: So @lainiespicewrites I did it! Got this idea in my head and ran with it lol. I hope everyone enjoys!
Word Count: 1,825
Pairing: Sy x OFC Amanda (Mandy) Dawson
Summary: Sy signs up for a pen pal program while on deployment and gets quite the surprise.
Warnings: None, it’s very fluffy 🥹
“The fuck is this?,” the gruff captain asks as one of his cadets brings him a clipboard. “It’s uh… a sign up sheet sir, for a pen pal. Y— you don’t have to, it’s voluntary, but I’m trying to give everyone a chance to—,” he stammers before Captain Syverson stops him. “Pen pal, huh?,” he questions. “Yes sir. The matches are random of course, but we figured it would be a good way to help us guys out here. Snuff out some of the loneliness and all,” he replies.
Sy contemplates that. He does have his parents, and his siblings, but as far as that went they had to care for him. They were his family after all. Might be nice to have someone out there that actually cares just because he’s him, and truly it was lonely as fuck out in the desert. Before Sy can change his mind he grabs the pen and signs his name on the list.
It takes about a week before he gets his first letter, dainty handwriting scrawled over the envelope. He opens in it the privacy of his quarters, not wanting to share this with anyone else.
Hello Captain Syverson,
My name is Amanda Dawson. Most people call me Mandy though. I’m your pen pal, obviously. I’m from Texas, like you actually. I got a small information packet about you. I’m not sure if you received the same thing but either way, I’ll tell you about myself.
I’m thirty years old, I own a cozy little cafe/bookshop called Mandy’s. It’s nothing fancy, but it makes me happy. I like books and coffee so I suppose it’s perfect for me. I have a chihuahua named Lester, and before you judge me (because I know they’re devil’s spawn), he was my Meemaw’s and I couldn’t let him be taken to a shelter when she passed.
I’m not really sure how much you want to know, so I’ll quit here and let you ask any other questions you like. I hope you’re doing well, and being safe.
Best,
Mandy
Sy reads the note again before pulling out a piece of paper to write back to this woman who’s already caught his attention.
Hey there Sugar,
You said you got a packet on me, but they didn’t send me a thing about you. I’m glad to be able to get to know you, Mandy. I put a picture of myself in here so you could know who you’re talking to. Not sure if they did that. You could send one back if you want, but I’d understand if you weren’t comfortable. Gotta let you know too, most people call me Sy, and you’re more than welcome to also.
I’m thirty three myself, and you already know what I do. Your bookstore and coffee shop sounds real nice. I like readin’ a bit myself out here to pass the time. Chihuahua’s are the devil, but I won’t judge you for takin’ in your Meemaw’s baby. I have a German Shepard named Aika. She’s a bomb detection dog, and an all around good girl.
I’m doin’ my best to keep safe, doin’ okay. How about you? You doin’ alright? Tell me more about yourself. Whatcha like, your family, all that.
Talk soon,
Sy
“Let me see that!,” Mandy’s best friend, Sadie says excitedly while grabbing Sy’s picture. “Jeez,” Mandy chuckles. “You would get Captain Sexy as a pen pal. Look at him!,” she tells Mandy animatedly. “He is attractive,” Mandy agrees. “You’re sending a pic back right? RIGHT???,” she asks. “Yes Sadie Belle. Chill out,” Mandy laughs. “I know the perfect—,” Sadie begins before Mandy pulls out the exact picture Sadie is thinking of. “All men love a sundress,” Sadie beams.
When Sy gets his letter from Mandy he nearly spits out his coffee. She is, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Light brown hair, sun kissed skin, and a peachy sundress. She’s stood outside against the wall of a house, hair pulled back in a ponytail, with who he can only assume at this point, is Lester in her arms. “Holy shit,” he murmurs before sitting the picture to the side and unfolding his letter.
Hey Sy,
I’m more than glad you send you a picture, thanks for sending me one. That’s me and Lester, the little booger that he is. He gets separation anxiety sometimes so he goes most places that he can with me, but he doesn’t like to be put down so I have to hold him. This was at a family barbecue this summer, if you can’t tell. I’m still pretty tan, but definitely not rocking the sundresses currently.
I’m glad to hear you’re being safe and doing okay. I’m good. I’m a simple creature. I already told you I like my books and my coffee. I like grandma things, I guess. I like quilting and crochet. Meemaw taught me. If you can’t tell, she and I were really close. I miss her a lot, so I keep up doing the things we always did together. Currently working on a batch of hats for preemies at the local hospital. I’m nearly halfway to my goal.
I’m an only child, which was fun I guess. I got all my parent’s attention and the majority of Meemaw’s as well. My best friend, Sadie, is kind of like a sister. We’ve been friends since kindergarten. She totally wigged out over your picture, called you Captain Sexy, and insisted I sent a picture back, which I’d planned on anyway. She’s a bit much, but I love her. She’s my right hand at the shop.
What are your likes? I’m not sure what life is like in the military base, but I want to know you. All parts. Military and otherwise. Tell me what you’re like.
Best,
Mandy
Sy couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the Captain Sexy comment. It’s one he’d never gotten before but he’d take it, especially if Mandy agreed. He’d been taken with her from the start, but after seeing how beautiful she was as well, he was in trouble.
Things went on as such, the two of them sending letters back and forth for months on end. Although Sy hadn’t admitted it to anyone else, he wasn’t above admitting to himself that he was falling head over stupid in love with a woman he’d never actually met. It could be a problem, because honestly… what if she didn’t feel the same? He’d recently taken a leap though, and asked for Mandy’s number so they could talk over the phone.
“He wants to talk to you?,” Sadie asks. “Yeah he does,” Mandy replied. “And… do you wanna talk to him?,” she asks. “You know what? I— I think I do,” Mandy replies. “You LIKE him,” Sadie says knowingly. “Maybe…. I mean he’s forever away in a war zone Sade,” Mandy tells her. “So? Stranger things have happened,” Sadie shrugs. That night Mandy writes her note to Sy, phone number included.
Sy tries to keep his cool as he dials Mandy’s number. “Just a phone call,” he says as the phone rings. “Hello?,” a soft voice answers. “I didn’t wake you did I?,” Sy says frantically. “Sy?,” Mandy questions. “It’s me darlin’,” he replies. “Hey,” she replies. Sy can almost hear her smile. “You alright?,” he then asks. “Yeah. I’ve just got a bit of a cold is all,” she replies. “Poor thing,” he coos. “You’ve got a really deep voice,” Mandy replies, making him laugh. “I do?,” he asks playfully. “Mmhm. It’s soothing,” she tells him.
“I’ll talk to you all night then sugar,” he tells her. “I can’t keep you up all night Sy. You’ve got more important things to do than talk to me,” she says. “Not right now, I don’t,” he insists. They talk well into the night, until Mandy can’t stop yawning. “I’m sorry. I promise I’m not bored,” she chuckles. “It’s alright darlin’. Shouldn’t have kept you up this late as is. I’ll letcha go so you can get some rest,” he replies. “You’ll call again?,” Mandy asks hopefully. “Course I will. Talkin’ to you is my new favorite thing,” he smiles. “Mine too”, she says honestly. “Night sugar,” he then says. “Goodnight Sy,” she answers before hanging up.
The phone calls and letters both continue throughout the year, and Sy can’t tell which is his favorite. Between getting to hear her and getting to see her in newer pictures she’s sent, he feels well spoiled. He’s sitting with her picture in his hand one evening smiling softly, when there’s a knock at the door. “Yeah?,” he calls out, sitting the picture on his desk. His commander enters the room and he stands quickly.
“It’s alright, son. I’m here with good news. You’re going home,” he tells Sy. “Home…,” he trails off. The first thing he wants to do is call Mandy and tell her, but he stops himself, having a better idea.
“What’s wrong?,” Sadie asks Mandy as they work. “I’m sure it’s nothing I— I just haven’t heard from Sy in a few days,” she says as she fidgets with the hem of her shirt. “Maybe he just got caught up on a mission or something. I’m sure he’s—,” she stops short when she looks just past Mandy. Sy puts a finger to his lips as a signal for Sadie to keep quiet. “I know. I’m just worried about him,” Mandy sighs.
“No need darlin’,” he finally says once he’s in arms reach of Mandy. She spins around quickly before coming face to face with him. “Bu— what are you? You were on deployment and—,” Mandy stammers, near tears. “I’m home now. I wanted to surprise you. Sorry I had you worried,” he says sheepishly. Mandy reaches out shakily, taking his face in her hands. “It’s really you,” she breathes before he pulls her into his arms.
She sobs against Sy’s chest, letting emotion overwhelm her. “I can’t believe it’s really you. Wow,” she says as she looks up at him. He runs a thumb across her cheek, swiping a tear away. “It’s me,” he says softly. “I haven’t even got you a Christmas present,” she blurts out with a laugh. “All I want for Christmas is you darlin’… if you’ll have me,” he says nervously. Mandy then reaches up and cups his scruffy jaw before placing a tender kiss to his lips.
“Is that a yes?,” he chuckles. “That’s a hell yes!,” Sadie screeches from behind them, making them both laugh heartily. “Yes. You’re the perfect Christmas gift, Sy,” she tells him. He shakes his head. “Naw sugar, that’s you. You’ve been… everything from the moment you first wrote me. You gave me somethin’ to look forward to. Somethin’ to care for,” he says, gently caressing her face. “Well I’m all yours. Merry Christmas,” Mandy giggles. “Merry Christmas,” he murmurs before capturing her lips once more.
AND I HAVE HAD THE COOLEST IDEA!! Dearest friends, writers, and Henry Cavill fans alike, I've got a Christmas writing prompt list for our one and only!
This strike of genius came while singing to "All I Want for Christmas is You" in the shower.
Without further Ado. I present.
A Very Cavill Christmas!
I've got a list of Henry and characters and associated Christmas songs! and starting today! (Decemeber 1st) to the end of December. I'm gonna post a Fic for each character! and I'd love for you guys to participate too! I'm gonna tag a couple writers I know that I think might like to participate. I thought this would be a fun way to start the holidays and get people into the spirit!
HERE IS MY OFFICIAL LIST
HENRY - JINGLE BELL ROCK
SYVERSON - ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU
WALTER - WE NEED A LITTLE CHRISTMAS
AUGUST - HAPPY HOLIDAYS
CLARK - EVERYBODY'S WAITING FOR THE MAN WITH THE BAG
SHERLOCK - THE CHRISTMAS SONG
GERLAT - HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY LITTLE CHRISMAS
MIKE - BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE
GUS - RUN RUDOLPH RUN
NAPOLEON - LET IT SNOW
This is my list! if you don't like or don't agree with some of the songs feel free to change them! But again I'd love for people to share this and do this with me. If you see this and you aren't a Henry Fan you can participate too! Switch it out for a Character you do like and have some fun!
If you do decide to this please tag me and Hashtag your post with #averycavillchristmas so we can find all the posts!!
Can we use either version of All I Want For Christmas Is You for Syverson? Kelly Clarkson has a beautiful song by the same name that's different than the Mariah Carey one.
Update: this is the best post I've ever made because everyone is sharing their Warm Beverage recipes in the notes. Go check the notes for more Warm Beverages That Will Fix You.
Mentally, I'm holding your hand right now. Or just sitting nearby offering comfort with my presence. You're not alone. I'm scared too. We'll survive this night together. Somehow.
I am losing faith that we will survive. I am not going to lie. I am a woman with a reproductive disorder that stands to lose so much in terms of health care, bodily autonomy, etc because all of this. And I am terrified.
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