#ethan hunt fluff
Note
Are you taking requests........? This happened to me a few months ago with a friend and made me thinks it would be a good fic! Could you write a 1 shot where you call Tom to your room as you're stuck in your dress and need his help to get free.
Champagne Sunshine | Tom Cruise
pairings: lovingboyfriend!Tom Cruise x Insecure!Reader
warning: fluff, talks about bodyweight but nothing too harsh.
Being a woman is easy they say. Well, they don't know just yet what happens when we stand in front a wardrobe full of dresses to choose from, yet somehow we always find ourselves stuck with a thought, "Why on earth is there nothing to wear for tonight?"
You've been spending a good amount of minutes with your hands on your hips, your eyes kept darting back and forth through the rows of dresses that you own. You haven't made any decision on what should you wear for tonight's ladies night with your friends. There's no one to impress, so why should you dress all good right? But then again, you never really dress to impress anyone. You always chose one that could make yourself feel good. You didn't care if anyone find it unattractive, if it makes you feel good, and if you find yourself attractive in it, then it's all that matters. Though lately, you've been pretty hard on yourself. Scratch that, you've been hard on yourself ever since you started dating the one and only Hollywood Royalty, mister Tom Cruise.
You were one a careless person when it comes to everything, yet somehow when you became his partner, you seem to care about everything. Your looks, your weight, your character, you don't want anything to change but you couldn't help but listen to all of those gossip shows talk about your relationship. On how should you express yourself, how should you talk, think, act, hell even somehow these people could get a glimpse of your childhood that you don't even know how could they get the access but your money's on your fake friends.
Sighing, you pull your attention away from your wardrobe to look at yourself in the full length mirror. In all honesty, you don't look bad. But you couldn't help but criticize every small little things that you have,
Should I lose weight?
Should I be thicker?
Should I watch how I eat?
Should I be lighter?
Should I be tanner?
I wished I was more thicker.. or Thinner..
Anywhere in between, you always tries to belittle yourself. Little did you know, Tom was watching you from the bed with his arms across his chest. His lips puckered into a smile watching his pretty girl in agony just for deciding on what to wear. He frowns when he sees you pinching your thighs, and then your stomach. He then came into a realization that as you're looking at yourself in the mirror, it's not because you're deciding on which dress would look good on you the most, but you were criticizing yourself.
You finally pulled on the Champagne coloured dress, it's a short dress that ends on your mid-thighs, it's a backless dress but it's got a zipper that stops at the middle of your back. It's your favorite dress because you were wearing this dress when Tom walks up to you to get to know you in the middle of the bar. Smiling as you remembering those memories, You took a deep breath in hopes that this would be the dress that you want to wear for tonight and as you put it on, you've had struggles putting it on. In all honesty, the dress should be body-fit. It did fit your body, it did still look good on you but you decided that you want to try another dress.
As you try to take it off, you find yourself stuck. It should be because of the zipper, but you and your crazy mind thought you've gain weight real bad.
Tom noticed you're getting a bit antsy, pushing himself off from the bed he came behind you by placing his hands on your shoulders to stop you from fidgeting as you both stare at each other from the mirror.
"Slow, honey. Let me help you." Tom murmured as his hands went to the zipper and work on it.
You exhaled a big sigh, and in a matter of second the dress is off of your body. "That's the sign."
"Why's the sign?"
"That I'm getting fat, and that I shouldn't wear the dress." You sighed.
"Baby, you're not. The zipper was stuck." Tom frowned.
"It was?"
"Yeah. Stop thinking crazy. You look good in this dress too, there's nothing wrong with it." He assured, kissing your shoulder blades.
You pouted and turn towards him, circling your arms around his neck. "This is my favorite dress."
Tom nodded, "Mhmm.. I know. I met you when you were wearing this dress." Tom smiled.
"Yeah, and I hate it if i couldn't fit into it anymore."
"But, baby. You still do. Regardless, I could care less if you couldn't. You're still beautiful. Don't let a dress defines who you are." He softly spoke, caressing the back of his hand against your cheeks.
"Stop thinking bad about yourself, and start thinking good. You're not alone, you have me. Okay? I hate seeing you in stress just from overthinking stuff that isn't even real." Tom stated before he connected his lips with yours.
"Will you stop thinking bad about yourself?"
"Yes, Tommy."
He smiled, "Good girl. I love you."
"I love you so much more."
#tom cruise#tom cruise fic#tom cruise fluff#tom cruise x reader#tom cruise x female reader#tom cruise imagine#tom cruise imagines#tom cruise fanfiction#tom cruise smut#tom cruise one shot#tom cruise dirty imagine#ethan hunt#ethan hunt fluff#ethan hunt imagine#maverick#maverick imagines
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the utter lack of x reader fics in the m:i fandom makes me think they’re frowned upon for some reason,, can anyone confirm or deny?
if i posted an x reader fic would anyone want it
#tom cruise#ethan hunt#mission impossible#mission impossible dead reckoning#mission impossible fic#tom cruise fic#ethan hunt fic#ethan hunt x reader#ethan hunt fluff#mi#m:i
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The Farmers Market - Ethan Hunt x Julia
Summary: Julia and Ethan decide to visit a local farmers market. Lots of fluff and sweet stuff <3
A/N: Hello hotties, your girl is back with a fic! This one isn't incredibly long, but I had so much fun writing it! I love Ethan and Julia so much. This story comes from a request about Ethan and Julia asked by the incredible @skinnycruise -I hope you like it! I saw that selfie of Ethan and Julia last week and I couldn't not write about them 🥹 xoxo mac
Word Count: 1.4k
With the warm breeze of May fresh upon the horizon, it seemed like spring was gracing the seaside city of Boston with longer days of sun and warmer weather. With the arrival of spring meant the arrival of another popular attraction; the farmers market.
The first weekend in May, farmers from the surrounding area of the city would bring in their vegetables and produce and set up a market in one of the downtown parks.
Standing in the kitchen, drinking a cup of warm vanilla coffee was, Julia, when the idea of the farmers market popped into her mind for no particular reason. She wasn't too sure why the idea of the farmers market popped into her mind, but the more she thought of it, she thought that it might be fun to go. Julia didn't go too often as it was much easier to just pick up groceries on the way home from the hospital after work, but having her husband back home for a while made the idea appealing to her as a fun little date that the both of them could go on.
So, when Ethan, a man who had lacked sleep for the better part of three months while he was away in Europe chasing after terrorists and criminals, caught up on his sleep, Julia brewed a fresh pot of coffee and made some eggs and toast to wake her husband up with. And while he was busy eating and waking up for the day, she retreated to their shared bedroom and put on a white and blue floral print dress that fell just below the knees. Tucked in her dark hair was a pair of white-rimmed sunglasses that matched both the sandals on her feet and the colour of her linen dress.
When she came back out into the kitchen, Ethan, who was perched on one of the bar stools around the kitchen island grinned sweetly at her like no time had passed since the two of them met, all those many years ago when they had locked eyes across a crowded room.
"You sure you wanna go out?" he asked, snaking a hand around her waist, "because i'm just fine here."
Julia chuckled and planted a gentle kiss atop of her husbands dark hair, "we need something to cook for dinner," she said, "besides, it will be fun."
Ethan nodded, linking his hand with Julia's, "give me ten and I'll be ready," he said gesturing to his outfit that composed of an old worn t-shirt and the pair of boxers he had slept in last night, "unless you want me walking around beside you like this?"
Julia rolled her eyes at her husband, and swatted gently at his bicep, sending him on his was to change.
And surely enough, when Ethan emerged back in the kitchen of their apartment wearing a black t-shirt tucked into a pair of dark jeans - his signature pair of aviators tucked within the neck of his shirt - he looked much more put together.
"All ready?" Julia asked him, smiling in his presence.
Ethan nodded, and followed his wife out to the car.
...
The Boston seaside park was transformed from its usual routine of people utilizing the trails for fitness into a venue that was surely captivating. Among the greenery of the spring-time park was countless booths, each with something different to offer.
At some there were freshly-cut flowers, at others there were handcrafted items, and at most there were some sort of produce or home-made goods.
"What are we on the look out for?" Ethan asked, noticing a booth with crochet baby slippers, all in a variety of tiny sizes with a plethora of pastel coloured yarn composing them.
"You think they have those in my size?" he asked, retracting his prior question, gesturing to the slippers.
Julia snorted as they walked past, picturing a light pink pair of slippers drawn to her husbands feet which made the woman running the booth shoot them a dirty look from across the walk way.
"What's so funny Jul?" Ethan asked, his arm draping around her shoulders.
Julia shook her head, "I was just imagining you in a pair of those," pointing to a light pink pair with a comedically large yellow duck crocheted to the toe of it.
"Please Julia," Ethan replied nonchalantly, "have some class. If you're going to day dream about me in a pair of slippers, at least imagine me in the green ones with the trains."
"Hmm," Julia hummed, trying to hide her smile, "I think the ones with the little pigs would really bring out your eyes."
Julia looked to Ethan to find that his gaze was already on her. From his place beside his wife, the nearly-blue, nearly-green, oceanic eyes of Ethan Hunt were pressed so effortlessly to her.
He noted the way she smiled, and the way the corners of her eyes crinkled ever so slightly when she laughed. He had missed this. He had missed the plain, mundane, ordinary, activities of everyday life. He had missed taking morning walks that were rooted in pleasure. He had missed Julia.
Ethan had missed the soft scent of her fragrant soap. He had missed the way her hand was always linked with his. He had missed her.
Ethan Hunt wasn't really a fan of farmers markets, but even the most ordinary of things seemed to be enough for his busy mind and constant drive whenever Julia was around.
"What do you think about these carrots?" Julia asked her husband as the two of them approached a table of hearty produce.
"I think," he said, pausing, unsure of how to really reply, "their carrots."
"They look pretty good? no?"Julia asked, "we could make a salad for dinner tonight?"
Ethan nodded, noticing a booth across the way that caught his eye. "That sounds great," he said, planting a kiss to the back of his wife's hand.
Ethan walked up with Julia to the selection of vegetables and while she was busy looking through a pile of carrots for the best ones, he saw his opportunity.
"I'll be right back," he told her, "Theres something I want to get."
So, while Julia was busy barging for the price of vegetables with a friendly farmer, Ethan was picking though a variety of flowers at one of the booths across the way.
There were tulips, roses, carnations, and other flowers alike, but none of them really seemed to capture the essence of his wife.
"Do you need any help?" the woman behind the table asked, noticing Ethan's puzzled gaze and unsureness in regards to the flowers.
"Yeah, that would be great," he replied sheepishly, "I'm not too sure which ones to get."
"Who are we shopping for?" She asked, smiling sweetly.
"My wife," Ethan said. "Ive been away for work and I want to get her something nice."
The woman smiled gently and then turned around to the buckets behind her to retrieve a bouquet of neatly wrapped irises.
"How do we feel about these?" She asked, "We just got them this morning!"
Ethan examined the beautiful, almost-sheer-like, flowers that were somehow both the perfect shade of blue and purple. These were Julia he thought to himself before nodding his head in approval.
Ethan handed the woman a twenty dollar bill and wished her a good day as he held the bouquet of flowers tightly in his hand.
By the time he got back to Julia, she was just finishing arranging the carrots and lettuce into the tote bag she had brought along with them from the car.
Looking up in Ethan's presence, Julia's eyes darted to the bouquet of flowers in his hand before meeting the eyes of her husband once more.
"Ethan?" she asked, "What's this?"
Ethan smiled, handing her the flowers, "I just wanted to do something nice for my wife."
Julia smiled, bringing the bouquet of flowers close to her chest, "they're beautiful Ethan!" she gushed, "I love you, " she told him, stepping forward, closing the distance between the two of them.
Naturally, his hands found their way around her waist, and before his lips pressed to hers in a kiss that was gentle and sweet, he repeated the words back to her.
"I love you."
#ethan hunt#ethan hunt x julia#julia meade-hunt#julia hunt#mission impossible#m:i#fluff#ethan hunt fluff#farmers markets#Ethan and Julia#tom cruise
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If I don't have you
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Ethan Hunt x AFAB!Reader
Mission Impossible (around MI3)
Word count: 6.6K
Summary: your mind won't let go of a close call, or all the things that remain unsaid between you and Ethan.
Content: gratuitous smut, angst, light blood/wounds (canon typical), swearing, angst with a happy ending, some mildly dubious moments (ie., sneaking into people's beds), but there's explicit consent so dw about that. Friends to lovers, first kisses (like between people), oral (f receiving), handjobs, making out, missionary, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk, sappy love confessions (I'm a sap myself, give me a break). I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.
Notes: hey guys I'm back with another terrible title and porn nobody asked for! I've recently been consumed by Mission Impossible and was devastated by the lack of Ethan Hunt content, and I may or may not be starting down the Tom Cruise rabbit hole, so I did the natural thing and wrote some good old smut. This man makes me absolutely feral in every film (sixty fucking one and he's still got it! What the fuck!) but the long hair really gets me (you all know this already) so I chose to go with somewhere around the MI3 mark. I'm also somehow convinced that he just gets hotter with each film but that's another issue.
Mandatory disclaimer, I don't really care what Tom Cruise does in his own free time with his money and energy but I personally don't fuck with scientology, so yeah. Anyways, enjoy!
The door to the hotel room banged shut behind you, loud and sudden in the cool stillness of the evening. Your face felt hot, and not just because of the heat outside or the fact that you’d just effectively undertaken a high-speed parkour course, blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding.
“What the hell, Ethan?” you hissed as you spun to face him, jerking your arm out of his grip.
He ignored you, stepping closer in the narrow entryway. “Are you hurt?”
Were you hurt? God, it never failed to amaze you just how little regard this man had for his own safety. First he’d quite literally jumped off the roof of a building (albeit a low building, and he’d slid down the tented roof of one of the market stalls first), then raced head-first into what had nearly ended up an all-out fire fight, despite you and Luther both yelling across the comms at him to stop, go around and cut them off! Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t listened.
“That was fucking insane!” you burst.
“Are you ok?”
You were being pursued, first at a walk and then a run. Ethan had seen, you’d told him and Luther both over the comms, and had been receiving directions from the latter. But there were three men chasing you – working for the man you were stalking, most likely, although you weren’t sure – and the streets were unfamiliar, the heat of the evening oppressive, the crush of bodies at the market stifling and the air dusty and thick. You knew, even as your feet pounded on the uneven ground, that you were not going to outlast these men – locals, larger and more numerous than you.
“You’re fucking insane, you know that?”
Ethan had barrelled into you from the side just as the first gunshot had gone off, rolling with a grunt and a curse over some poor stallholder’s display and behind a wall of crates. The rush of relief his presence unfailingly conjured was short-lived as he dragged you to your feet, a quick “alright?” and that goddamn movie-star grin before he was pushing you out from behind the makeshift shelter and back into the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed the substantial tear in his shirt or the rough hatching of a graze high on his cheek until you’d been leaning against a wall, panting and a little shaky, but alive and free of your pursuers.
You’d almost ripped him a (another) new one then and there, but then he’d shaken his head at you and held up his hand, panting, “let’s just get back,” before you could even open your mouth. So you’d held your tongue. Until you’d gotten back.
Now, both his hands were on your shoulders, firm and warm, holding you still. “(Y/N),” he was saying, his eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” you sighed after a moment, half tempted to jerk out of his grasp again. You didn’t. “I’m fine. Are you?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, his hands sliding down to grip your arms. The graze wasn’t too bad up close, but as your eyes flicked to the cut on his arm, your anger reared its head again. God, if that had been twenty centimetres to the right…
“No you’re fuckin not,” you said, breathing deeply. It was late, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone more than you already had. “Let me see that.”
His hands dropped from you altogether, and he stepped back. “It’s fine, (Y/N), just a graze.”
“A bullet graze!”
“It’s fine.”
You shook your head, closing what little distance had opened up between you to point your finger into his chest. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.”
“No promises,” he shrugged.
Jesus fucking Christ! You had half a mind to grab his gun off him and finish the job right there, see how fine he’d be with his brains blown onto the wall behind him. Even then he’d brush it off as a bruise, maybe a light concussion. You swallowed. “Ethan, you could have been killed !”
“But I wasn’t. All that matters is that you’re alright.” He’d taken your hand, folding your accusing finger back towards your palm gently – so gently it made your heart ache – and enclosing your fist in his much larger one. Your stupid, traitorous stomach did a flip to rival his acrobatics.
“No,” you gritted, “that’s not all that matters! You fucking–” matter. You matter to me. You pressed your lips firmly together, the words boiling in the back of your throat, spiralling into a hard, painful lump. You matter, Ethan, more than any fucking mission. None of it would mean shit if you didn’t make it, if I didn’t have you. You matter and I fucking love you, you idiot!
He was looking at you oddly, you realised, the silence hanging between you so thickly you’d need a damn chainsaw to cut it. His hand still cradled yours, but as you watched, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ready-for-anything gleam you were so painfully familiar with faded from his eyes.
You both turned as someone – Luther – cleared his throat, a sharp silhouette against the glow of twilight through the window behind him.
“Are you alright?” your friend asked, looking between the two of you.
“Yeah,” you huffed, pulling back and running both your now-free hands through your hair.
“Ethan?”
“Yeah.”
Another silence, though less tense.
“Taking a shower,” you muttered, feeling your own body slouch as the adrenaline drained from you. You were sweaty, hot, dusty, shaky and too strung out for any more of this shit. Nobody stopped you as you trudged past first Ethan, then Luther, down the narrow hallway and into the small hotel bathroom. You thought you could hear Luther’s rumbling voice over the stream of shower water, Ethan’s higher-pitched response, but couldn’t make out any words. Maybe that was for the better.
In your dream, Ethan wasn’t fine. In your dream, he hadn’t moved as fast and wasn’t stumbling to his feet, pulling you with him. In your dream, he went down and stayed down, breath coming fast and short, and instead of a rip in his sleeve there was a dark stain spreading over his chest.
“Ethan?” you said, watching yourself scramble across the rough dirt of the street to his side, your hands flitting uselessly over his torso.
He cursed, taking your hand as he had so many times before, big and warm and more comforting than it had any right to be. “You alright?” he asked, teeth gritted.
“Yeah, fine. Fuck, Ethan hold on–”
“No, (Y/N)–”
“Hold on , dammit!” It was amazing how viscerally you could feel the pain, sharp and hot like a gunshot wound of your own. You fumbled at your pockets with one hand, pressing down on his chest with the other, but your phone was nowhere to be found. When you shouted for an ambulance or help or anything at all, nobody was listening. The market bustled on around you, the people no more real than shadows on a wall.
Ethan was saying your name again, his blood hot and wet against your palm. Too much, too much too fast.
“All that matters is that you’re alright,” he was telling you, and half your mind was seeing him as he had been in the hallway – serious, sweaty, patch of pink skin over his cheekbone hatched with where the dirt had caught and cut it as he’d rolled.
In your dream, you told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, words spilling from you in a sick waterfall. “You matter, Ethan. You matter to me, I love you, do you know how much you matter to me?”
You’d seen people die before. It was part and parcel of your job, so you knew what it looked like. This was no different. Ethan’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed, and he was too pale. There was a light sheen of sweat beading his face and neck. His chest was soaked with his blood and your hands were slick with it. His fingers were loosening around your own.
“Ethan?” you asked, your own grip slackening as his head lolled. “Ethan, come on, just hold on–”
No one’s coming.
“Hold on, Ethan. Don’t go. Don’t go, I can’t do this without you.”
He wasn’t looking at you anymore.
“Please, just– listen to me. You don’t know. You have no idea how much you matter to me, how much I need you. Ethan, come on, I love you!”
In your dream, Ethan was dead and you woke shivering despite the warmth of the room. You lay stock-still, counting to ten again and again until your breathing finally slowed and your heart rate returned to normal. You wriggled down under the sheet you’d draped over yourself, curling inwards and wishing for something more substantial than the loose t-shirt – once Ethan’s – and your underwear.
You’d watched Ethan die a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Nobody would ever torture it out of you, but these – when he didn’t know, when it was too late before you told him – were the worst. It left you with a sick feeling in your gut, a hollow emptiness in your chest where your heart and lungs should have been, and limbs so heavy you were always surprised you managed to get up the next morning. And, of course, the inevitable wave of loathing at how fucking pathetic you were dreaming about telling your partner – friend , probably your best friend, because you were long past being coworkers – that you loved him.
You sighed, turning over. It was close to the full moon, the open window casting a rectangle of silver over the lump that was your legs, the light breeze moving the curtains gently. You could get up and close it. You should.
You’d been too pissed off and tired after your shower to do much more than grunt thanks to Luther when he handed you a cold doner kebab, eat it, then fall onto your bed and close your eyes. Usually, you’d have forced Ethan to take a shower too, waited until he emerged in fresh clothes and smelling like cheap soap, hair damp and curling around his ears, and patted the spot on the couch or bed or floor beside you. He’d always roll his eyes but sit anyway, and he’d stay sitting as you cleaned and dressed – sometimes stitched – whatever injuries he’d acquired with only minimal complaining. He’d give you the same treatment afterwards.
You hadn’t done any of that before, and now you missed the little ritual. You’d been mentally cataloguing the first aid kit for antiseptic cream, bandages, wound pads, suture needles and sterile thread as soon as it had even clocked in your mind that he had more than just the graze to his cheek, the uncomfortable weight of your dream growing heavier with the realisation that you’d left it all to him. And Luther, you supposed.
It was such a little thing, but in the moment it seemed to loom over you, blocking out the moon’s rectangle.
You sighed again, your feet hitting the floor before you’d even fully realised that you were getting up. 2.28 AM glowed sickly green from the digital clock on the nightstand. Maybe if you hadn’t had that specific dream, you thought, you would have given this more consideration. Turned over and closed your eyes, decided to wait until morning proper, dismissed your guilt and concern as remnants of a stressful evening. But you had had that dream, and now that you’d eased the door open and were slipping down the hallway towards the room Ethan occupied, there was no way you could have turned back.
His door was ajar, and didn’t squeal or protest when you eased it open. The set-up, like most hotel bedrooms, was exactly the same as your own. Cupboard on one wall (open, with a duffle bag resting half in and half out of it), dresser next to the door (two guns and a few spare magazines next to them), and a double bed by the window. The orientation of the room meant that the moonlight fell on the floor instead of the bed, but you could still clearly make out Ethan’s prone form, sheet wrinkled and twisted under him, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, a few strands of hair over his face fluttering with each breath.
You’d seen him asleep before, of course you had. There hadn’t always been hotel rooms with two bedrooms and a pull-out couch to rotate through, nice as that was. There hadn’t even always been separate beds or mattresses – or any at all. Sometimes you ended up side by side in a queen that was supposed to be two singles, slumped on top of him in the back of a van or on a rooftop, curled against his back in a sleeping bag that was only really meant for one person. You didn’t mind, not really, but seeing him like that – totally relaxed, peaceful – tugged at something deep inside you.
You hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, shivering once more in the breeze from his open window. The curtains billowed inwards, floated suspended for a moment, then receded back to brush at the thick sill. The bed rustled as Ethan turned over, and you froze. He’d said something, you thought he’d said something that sounded like your name. Then he did it again, and you were sure.
“(Y/N).”
You crossed the room silently, kneeling then lying smoothly on the bed and against his back like you were made to fit there. He hummed softly as your arm slid over his ribs, your fingers splayed over his heart. Still beating, strong and even and alive.
He sighed, shifting ever so slightly back towards you, his own hand finding yours, larger fingers lacing with your own.
“I’m sorry,” you breathed. The dressing on his arm where the bullet had clipped him seemed to glow, taunting you. He did this himself, it said. You left, he almost took a fucking bullet for you and you didn’t even fix it for him .
The slow expansion and contraction of his torso paused for a moment. Neither of you were heavy sleepers, your job had seen to that. “(Y/N)?”
“Yeah.”
“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.
Everything. “Yelling at you. I just…” You paused, no longer cold in the shadow of your dream, but still aware of its presence. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”
There was a beat of silence, then he was turning over again to face you, his hand slipping from your own to run up over your forearm, your elbow, your upper arm, catching momentarily on the sleeve of your shirt before coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Thought I was dreaming…”
You smiled, reaching out to run your fingers around the neck of his wifebeater singlet. Even just waking up, he looked good in the damn thing. “You were.”
He frowned, the patch of rough red hashing standing out in the silvery dimness. Up this close, you could see every minute crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a minute ago, every tiny line of tension around his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” he asked.
You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I felt bad.” I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help you and I couldn’t tell you, and you still don’t know.
“For yelling at me?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, either. That’s–”
“All that matters. You said.”
You were at a crossroads. You felt it as if someone had infused your every cell with the knowledge that you had two options, and you could only take one, and it would change things. How, you weren’t sure, but the sticky warmth of Ethan’s blood between your fingers and the rough dirt digging into your knees still made your skin tingle.
“You’re wrong,” you continued. “That’s not all that matters.”
The frown deepened. “Hm?”
“You matter, Ethan. To me. If I don’t have you…” You shrugged, once again counting your breaths. How was it that you were more highly strung now than you had been while you were quite literally being chased through a market and shot at? It was so far away now, a distant memory of someone else. This, here, the gap barely wider than ten centimetres between your face and Ethan’s, the warm air and the pale moonlight, the warmer weight of his hand still on your shoulder… That was real.
But bravery – a strange word, you realised, even as you had the thought – only went so far. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” you finished lamely.
He knew it wasn’t what you’d been going to say, that it barely went half way to getting across what you wanted to. But still, he just smiled and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You won’t ever have to find out.”
Maybe you weren’t really awake. Maybe you’d wandered into his dream instead of his room, or maybe (and more likely) he’d found his way into yours. Maybe you really had turned over and gone back to sleep instead of padding down the hall and sliding in next to him, and this was your mind’s way of apologising to you for the earlier horror show. It must be, you reasoned, because somewhere you’d ended up pressed against his front – something that hadn’t happened before; you always found yourself curled around him from behind. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his hand slid across your collar, up your neck to rest on your cheek.
The kiss, when it came, hardly registered as something new. After all, how many times had this played out in your mind? How many times had you wondered what it would be like to move those last few centimetres, lean across that last gap, shove the two of you over that line like he’d shoved you out of the way of that bullet. It was an extension of where you were right now, of where you’d been for the last however long, of where you’d somehow known you were eventually going to end up.
He was as gentle with you as he’d always been, soft and so painfully careful. He held you like you might break, as if you were something precious and delicate, his hand warm where he cradled your face. You felt the last sticky residue of tension and fear drain from your body as you slid the hand that had been resting on his chest down, over his ribs, around his back, pressing between his shoulder blades.
“Ethan,” you whispered as he pulled away, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You weren’t shivering anymore.
“You’re so beautiful,” he replied, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.
You smiled, every cell in your body tingling with warmth. “So’re you.”
“Mm-mm,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not like you. You have no idea how beautiful you are.”
There wasn’t much your kiss-addled, Ethan-filled brain could say to that. You closed the gap once more, his mouth impossibly soft, the faint hint of his toothpaste clinging to his tongue when it slid against your own. Someone – you or him, you weren’t sure – made a tiny noise somewhere in the realm of a sigh as you shifted even closer to him, hooking your leg over his.
He was almost on top of you now, leaning over you, suspended carefully on one arm. You’d been here before, pressed into the floor of wherever you were sparring, sweaty and determined to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand again. Secretly, though, you’d wondered what that would feel like like this, and now you wondered if he had, too.
Just as you had all those other times, you pushed your hips up off the mattress and flipped him smoothly. He huffed as you straddled him, blinking up at you in surprise before a smile spread over his face and he sat up, kissing you once more, his hands settling on your hips. You were half aware of your body curving towards his as your hands tangled in his hair, the rapid deterioration of your kisses into something that probably wouldn’t fit the word under any stringent definition.
“Can I?” he asked, fingers flitting around the hem of your shirt.
You just nodded, pulling the garment over your head quicker than you ever had before and casting it aside. If Ethan recognised it, he didn’t say anything.
“You too,” you whispered when he didn’t show any signs of copying you, pulling at the thin cotton of his own shirt.
“Huh?”
“Shirt, dummy,” you smiled. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s naked.”
“All’s fair in love and war.”
Love. Your heart sped up at the word. This could be love. Or war, you supposed.
“I don’t think that’s what that means,” you said, wrinkling your nose.
“Sure it is,” he shrugged. But his hands were at the hem of the stupid thing, and before you could say anything else he was easing it over his head – mindful of his arm – and tossing it to join yours. “Fair now?”
“Yeah.” You’d seen him without a shirt before. Changing in the back of a van, bandaging a cracked rib or disinfecting a patch of tiny cuts where he’d rolled through broken glass (which happened far too frequently, in your opinion), passing him on his way out of the bathroom. Every time made your stomach flip over and your mind race, but you’d never been able to touch him like this before; run your hands down over his shoulders and arms, across his stomach, up again over his chest, around his ribcage, down the curve of his spine.
He was in the same boat, you supposed, smiling as his hand slid appreciatively up your side, thumb skimming the soft underside of your breast. You moaned as he bent to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking at the flesh over your jugular and where your neck met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin occasionally, tongue soothing the blossoming marks left behind.
“Can I ask you something?” you sighed as he mouthed at the hollow of your collar bone.
“Yeah.”
“You said my name before. Were you dreaming about me?”
Again, “Yeah.”
You smiled. “What about me?”
“That you were here.” He broke away from your skin, stretching to place a soft kiss on your lips. “And you were safe.”
“Well I am.” There was more to it, you could feel it.
“You are.” Another kiss, almost chaste in its brevity.
“What else?” you asked.
He paused, hesitant, then, “You had your legs around my neck.”
Oh. Oh.
“Fuck, Ethan,” you whispered. That image wasn’t a new one. The fact that he dreamed about you was news enough, but that… That sent a veritable deluge of heat and desire down through your body, pooling wetly between your thighs. You had to consciously stop yourself from grinding on him right then and there.
You wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. He was pushing you backwards now, his kisses trailing down over your sternum, between your breasts – he paused here to mouth at one, kneading the other gently, making you moan again – and on to your stomach. He slowed when he reached the waistband of your underwear, kissing across the bridge between your hip bones, leaving you a belt of faint hickeys.
“Can–”
“Yes,” you answered.
He looked up at you from where he’d slid between your legs, one hand on your hip and the other pushing at your thigh. His hair hung over his forehead and almost into his eyes (you’d been trying to get him to let you trim it for weeks now), lips pink and kiss-swollen and so pretty. “Ok,” he smiled, pulling your underwear down over your legs shockingly easily, considering they were still wrapped around his waist. You cursed softly as he bent his head again, kissing the inside of your thigh.
“Wondered what this’d be like,” he whispered, sucking at a spot beside it.
“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, your hand sliding down to rest on his head, fingers carding through his hair.
He hummed softly into your skin. “What you’d taste like.”
You cursed again as he licked over the mark, fingers skirting where you wanted him most, your skin on fire with every kiss.
“What you’d sound like.”
You pressed your lips together firmly, stifling any sound as he slid a finger over your wetness. You raised your head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you wanna find out?”
“Yes,” he breathed. His breath hitched in his chest, and there was that perfect movie-star grin. “Fuck, yes.”
You opened your mouth to say something to that, but before the words had formed in your mind Ethan was licking up your cunt and the only thing that came out of your mouth was an embarrassingly loud moan. You felt him smile, his own soft noise of pleasure muffled against your flesh as he licked again, then sucked determinedly at your clit.
“Oh, fuck , Ethan–” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders.
“Hm?”
“That’s fucking– You’re– Holy shit that’s good.”
Ethan just grinned again, his tongue flicking over you, one finger circling your entrance. A suggestion. “Is this alright?”
You nodded frantically, pressing your lips together as he pushed it inside you. “Yes,” you whined as he licked you again, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as the hand not gripping his hair twisted in the sheets. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating over you as he sucked your clit, his finger working your hole. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, practically grinding on his face.
A soft hum, then he was adding a second finger, lapping up everything you were giving him as you squirmed , your breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the orgasm coming now, coiling in your stomach like a spring, hot and tight and Ethan was the one building it up. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his tongue and lips, every little grunt or hum, and his free hand gripping your thigh like a vice. You hoped you’d have bruises.
“Oh, oh, Ethan, oh my God–”
Close, you were so damn close. You were aware of your hips jutting up against his face, and the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t consumed with pleasure and want might have felt bad.
“I’m gonna– fuck – holy shit , Ethan– Ethan I’m gonna–”
Then everything was crashing around you and you were crying his name, your legs spasming and your spine arching, electricity fizzing through you. Ethan continued fucking you with his hand, slower and gentler now, his mouth soft on your sensitive clit. Maybe it was gradual, maybe not, but eventually your body transitioned from roiling static to a gentle buzz and your grip on his hair slackened, your legs relaxing around his shoulders.
He sat calmly between your legs, licking his fingers. The entire lower half of his face shone silver in the moonlight with your slick, his lips pink and swollen, eyes fixed keenly on you. You thought if he looked at you like that a second longer, you were going to cum all over again.
You smiled at him, your hand finding his where it still rested on your hip. Gently (though maybe it was because your limbs still felt so heavy and floppy), you pulled him up the bed and down on top of yourself, stretching up to kiss him hard. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue when it slid into your mouth, and his hand on your skin was slightly sticky. It slid around your waist, pushing against the small of your back, pressing your chest to his. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough of it.
You whispered his name against his lips, your own hands settled firmly around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The fabric of his underwear – why the hell was he still wearing anything? – seemed to burn where it brushed over your hip, pressing hot and hard against you.
“(Y/N),” he breathed, pulling back enough to study your face carefully, as if he were memorising every detail.
You felt the air catch in your lungs, your heart skip a beat. “You’re so…” Pretty. Lovely. Gorgeous. Hot. Handsome. Beautiful. You’re everything, Ethan. “God, I love you.”
He froze, and it was only then that you realised you’d said it. You’d actually said the goddamn words, aloud, to him.
“Are you serious?” he asked. Not incredulous, not judgemental, simply seeking clarification.
And how the hell were you supposed to lie? You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry.
“Say it again.”
“I love you,” you repeated numbly. Then, swallowing, “Is that ok?”
Another beat passed in silence, then he laughed. “Yes, dammit, I love you too.”
“You… love me too.” Had you heard him right? Had you somehow wandered back to your dream, fallen into an orgasm-dulled sleep and imagined the last few minutes? But no, Ethan’s lips felt real enough when they brushed yours again, his fingers felt real enough on your back.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“Say it again.”
“I love you. And you love me, don’t you?”
You nodded, an absurd bubble of laughter swelling in your chest. “Yes,” you grinned. “I love you, Ethan.”
This kiss was different. A kiss has to taste different after something like that, you supposed, and you were both still smiling. You reached down, your fingers skirting the waistband of his underwear, then further still to press your hand against his hard bulge. He moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to glance down, up again.
“Off,” you whispered, already pulling at the fabric. He obliged, quickly and smoothly as he’d rid himself of his shirt, and in a moment his lips were back against your own, hot and hungry. You took his cock in your hand, your own lips moving away from his across his jaw, the hollow where it met his neck, his skin clean and smooth and tasting faintly of hotel soap.
His dick was hot to the touch, thick and long and roped with veins. You’d wondered, sometimes, what this would feel like. You’d imagined the sound he’d make when you touched him like this (it couldn’t ever have come close to the real thing, you knew that now), how that hot weight would feel against your tongue. He groaned in earnest as you stroked your hand along his length, your thumb swiping around the leaking head. He cursed softly, your name hissing between his teeth, hips moving gently in tandem with your hand.
“I wanted you for so long, Ethan,” you murmured into his neck. “You have no idea.”
“Yeah?”
You smiled. “I dream about you too, you know.”
He faltered, just for a moment, then, “What about me?”
You felt your smile widen and you frantically suppressed the urge to laugh again at the echo of your own earlier words. “I dream about fucking you six ways into next week,” you said simply. “Sucking your cock till I’m choking on it and making you cum in my mouth. Or in my pussy, I don’t care.”
“Oh fuck, (Y/N), Jesus,” he groaned, the sound sending another bolt of heat to your still sensitive pussy. “You think about that when we’re out there?”
“Mhm.” This time you did laugh, nothing more than a soft exhale, not stopping your hand’s movements. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to jerk you off when you’re tryna aim a gun.”
His cock twitched in your grasp, a low moan pressed back behind his lips. “God, (Y/N) that’s–”
“Insane?”
“So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?”
Now it was your turn to curse. “Yes,” you breathed, wriggling to wrap your legs around his waist, your hand leaving its place to grip his shoulder, run down his arm, guide his hand to your hip. “Please, Ethan.”
“Here?”
“Yeah. Here.” You ground your hips against his, already tingling as his cock slid against your slick centre. “I want you inside me. Need you.”
“Shit, ok, just let me–” He broke off as he sank into you, his hum of pleasure mingling with your own breathy moan. Maybe it was the after effects of your earlier orgasm, the dream state you still weren’t entirely sure you’d broken out of, or a combination of both, but you swore that nothing would ever top this feeling. It was like he was made for you, slow and soft as he pulled out and pushed back in, did it again, then again and again.
“Shit, Ethan,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair as he bent his head to kiss your chest. You were glad it was still long enough for this, that you hadn’t managed to get him to cut it. He groaned against you and you smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.
“Harder?” you murmured. “Don’t have to be so gentle.”
“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied, his breath warm against your skin.
“You won’t, don’t worry. Please?”
He raised his head, eyes searching your face. “Ok,” he said, dipping down to kiss your lips quickly and softly before he was drawing away and sitting back between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and sliding a pillow under your lower back with the other.
Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swirling alongside the magma in your stomach. This time he pushed hard into you, his cock stroking every inch of your insides, the hand that had been on your hip sliding to press down on your pelvis. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that.”
“Like this?” Another thrust, even and determined.
“Yeah, oh fuck that’s so good.” You reached up over your head, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other twisted in the sheets, eyes fixed on Ethan. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, shining as though he was cast in silver. He was a fucking masterpiece.
“You’re so good,” he said. “You look so perfect like that, feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I swear.”
Oh, did he know what he was doing to you? Every jolt of his hips against yours building low inside you, his barely restrained little sounds and the heaving of his chest. You weren’t going to last much longer.
“Don’t stop,” you gasped, “ fuck, Ethan, you feel so good. Making me feel so fucking good, so good , you have no idea.”
“Hm?”
“So hot. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that?”
“(Y/N)–”
You were close. You were so fucking close, wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You whined his name, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, legs tight around his waist.
“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m– I’m gonna–” He broke off, pressing his lips together, his eyes fixed on you.
“Yeah? You gonna cum?”
“Yeah, fuck, where do I–”
“In me.”
“You sure?”
Were you sure? You’d been sure for way too long now. “Yeah, dammit, wanna feel you cum in my pussy, fucking filling me up so good–”
That did it. His thrusts stuttered and slowed as he spilled inside you, his chest heaving and his head tilted back, eyes closed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. God, he was just too much, and you’d made him look like that. It had been you, all you, and it was you he was still buried deep inside. Your own climax rolled over you with that, your body squeezing tight and hot around him, your grip on the bed hard enough that you were sure your knuckles were white, spine arching as bliss flooded your body. You might have said his name, he might have said yours again, but it didn’t matter.
You lay there, warm all over and shaking, watching him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, gingerly pulling out to flop beside you on the mattress.
“Clean up?” he asked, already reaching over the side of the bed.
“Yeah.” You were too heavy to do anything but let him gently run the towel he’d found between your legs, thighs and stomach twitching when the rough cotton came into contact with your oversensitive clit.
“Sorry,” he muttered, cursorily wiping at his own crotch before tossing the piece of fabric away. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” you sighed again, wriggling off the pillow and kicking it aside. You shifted closer to him, his arm sliding around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, his heart beating strong next to your own. Your eyes were drawn to the darker, rougher patch on his cheek, and you frowned.
“What?” he asked.
“This.” You ran your fingers over it gently, barely even touching the skin, doing the same to the dressing on his arm. “And this. Can I have a look tomorrow?”
“It is tomorrow.” He nodded to the clock. Right, yeah. After midnight. “I thought I did an ok job,” he went on before you could say anything.
“Ethan, there’s nothing even on this one,” you protested. “It’s just… there.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?”
“I never said that.” You smiled, dipping to brush the spot with your lips. Featherlight, barely there. “Better?”
He nodded.
“I still want to check them.”
“Ok,” he relented, squeezing your shoulder gently.
You shifted closer, your face inches from his own. Up this close, you could see the baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat, every eyelash shining iridescent white under the moon. “I meant it,” you whispered.
“What?”
“That you matter to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”
His breath rushed through his lungs and back out again as he stretched to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most important thing to me, too. I love you.”
You tilted your face to his, this time meeting his lips with your own. It was slow, unhurried, relaxed and tender, and everything you adored in Ethan. “I love you, too,” you whispered into it. Then, grinning as you drew back, “And I meant all the other stuff, too.”
He raised an eyebrow, “All of it?”
“Yeah.”
His chest shook with faint laughter under you, his hand stroking over your shoulder. “I didn’t know you thought like that. Didn’t know you thought about me like that.”
“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, shrugging, your cheeks warm. “Sorry if it was a bit much.”
“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it wasn’t. I liked it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You know,” you said as you lay down, “anyone else couldn’t waterboard that out of me.”
“Guess I’m just that special.”
“You are, Ethan.” You weren’t shivering anymore, the only weight in you was the pleasant kind of exhaustion that came with finally being safe, being home. Ethan was alive and he knew, he knew you loved him, and he knew what he meant to you, and he loved you too. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had.
#ethan hunt#ethan hunt x reader#mission impossible#shameless smut#smut#fanfiction#fanfic#fluff#tom cruise
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hello, I have a request for a tom cruise x reader fic based on the ariana grande song ‘fantasize’. that’s all, thank you xx
fantasize | Tom Cruise 18+
a/n : goshhhh this req is stuck in my mind for so long. finally I'm able to finish writing itt... i hope it fills your expectations! love the suggestion so much xx.
Pairing : Tom Cruise x f¡reader
Warning : unprotected sex, clothed sex, dirty talks, assume age gap, smut, minor dni!
Polo match.
You always hate when you're dragged to these kinda events. But your dad always insists on bringing you here. And since you just come back from college overseas, you owe it to him for a bit of quality time.
You would much rather stay at home or go out with your friends for a spa day or a pool party. Definitely not this. You feel awkward here and you don't know everyone here except your dad. Dad said it's not just about the game but it's about the networking. And so there he is, leaving you behind as he talks to his colleagues.
The game is about to start. Your dad calls for you. As you walk towards him, you see he's standing next to a man. His hair is perfectly styled. He's wearing a navy suit with a matching navy patterned tie. His eyes covered behind a sunglasses, but you kinda feel something about him is familiar, like you've seen him somewhere or something.
"Tom, i want you to meet my daughter." Dad places his hand behind your waist. Looks at you proudly, "She just came back from Harvard– took a double degree there while running her own business... couldn't get much prouder of my little cupcake." Your dad says.
Your dad has a habit of over-introducing you in front of people. "Dad, you're doing it again," you chuckle awkwardly as you shake your head.
Turning your head, you prolong your hand first for a shake. Shooting the man your most friendliest smile. "Hi, pleasure to meet you, i'm Y/N Y/L/N,"
He takes his glasses off and then shakes your hand.
That face. That eyes. Beat drops. You could feel your heart stop at the sight.
"Hi... I'm Tom,"
Cruise. He is Tom Cruise.
That's why you knew something about him is familiar, he's the freaking Hollywood god.
This shouldn't surprise you– to meet celebrities and all. Your dad works in the business as a producer. But something is different this time. Something is different about Tom Cruise. You almost feel like the air gets hotter. Perhaps it is him being so hot, or perhaps it's the way he stares at you with an intrigue in his eyes.
"So you're the famous Y/N Y/L/N... I've heard so much about you." He says, shooting a friendly smile.
"Yeah? Not the fun part, though," you mutter quietly.
Your dad and Tom both only stay silent and look at you, processing what you've just said.That came out of nowhere. The moment you realized you've said it, you regret it.
A few seconds pass with silence, but thankfully, your dad breaks into a laughter, lightening up the intense situation. "You're funny, sweetheart," your dad says. He must've not gotten the hidden intent behind what you said.
Tom however, just chuckles a little and a ghost smile appears on his face, his eyes light up as if he's enjoying some private humor. "Well.. I'd love to know more," Tom says. His gaze is unwavering and intense.
The event host then announces that the game is about to be started. You take your seat next to your dad. Tom is sitting a couple rows down from you, that doesn't stop you from keeping your eyes glued at him all the time.
For some reason, your heart is pounding mercilessly. You curse at yourself for being so stupid, muttering things out of your mouth before you think more about it. The way Tom gazed at you makes you feel some type of way, you're mentally and physically weak.
The way Tom moves a couple rows down there, the way he runs his fingers to his hair, the way his eyes dead-locked-focused watching the game as he chews a gum. That eyes, that jawline, that hair — Everything about this man just attracts every single bit of your cell. You're actually feeling all hot and horny right now.
Your mind starts to play on its own. Imagining what those lips would taste like. Imagining to run your fingers through that brunette strands. Imagining yourself getting fucked in this VIP little box — him pinning you down, he'd make you moaning hard, he'd pound mercilessly to you as he licks your moaning mouth. Oh, you'd give anything for him.
The loud cheer of the audience as the game ends awakes you back into reality. Somehow, you miss the whole game having your own preferred one in your head.
As you're about to leave your box, Tom comes to you and your dad again. Making some casual talks about the game and how great it was. You just stand there silence, still recovering from that heavy game you played in your mind.
"Cupcake," your dad turns around and calls for you, "If it's okay... i invite Tom to our lunch, i still have some business to discuss with him. I hope you're okay with it."
Before you can answer, your dad's phone rings. "Shit... hang on, sweetheart,"
"It's all fine, dad. I'll just go wait in the car." You say. You know whenever your dad's phone rings, that'll take some time. So rather than spending here talking with Tom and risking yourself to be flustered and caught in the open. You'd rather go back to your car and chill alone.
You get in your car and quickly turn on the air conditioning to the fullest setting. You sigh heavily.
You try to shake the picture of him in your head, trying to stop this feeling. You take a long breath in and just look at yourself from the rearview mirror. For some reason, you still feel horny. As if this feeling is not gonna go away until you're fed.
Looking around there's no one here around the parking lot. So you do what you gotta do to help yourself. You move to the back seat and lay down comfortably. You shut your eyes close and hoping that Tom is here. Hoping that Tom knows what he did to you, the feeling he inflicted on you.
All of a sudden, your door just pulled open, startling you to open your eyes and sit up. To your much surprise, it's Tom. He is ducking his head in.
"Tom? Wh-what are you doing?" You cluelessly ask.
"What needs to be done," he retorts in hushed voice.
He gets in and slams back the door close. In one quick motion, he lunges at you, grabs you by your face and kisses you. His lips on yours feel so soft and so burning at the same time— addicting, that's what he tastes like. You moan into his mouth, giving him just enough the opening. His tongue expertly exploring your mouth.
You have never been kissed like this. Your tongue tentatively plays back and joins his in an erotic movement. He gently pushes you back till you're laying down flat on the back seat with him on top of you. You're helpless, you're all pinned down, and he's restraining you with his whole body. You wrap your legs around his hips, allowing him to completely have his body pressed to yours. His hand explores your body, trailing the length of your thigh to your hips. Feeling something hardering, nudging you, you couldnt help to grind your center to his cock.
He hiss against your mouth. But Tom doesn't stop you or anything, rather he moves to kiss all over your chin, moving to your neck. The moment he sucks and nibs your sensitive skin, he got your eyes rolling back. You grip onto his jacket and swallows your edging moan.
"Tom..." you mutter.
Tom asks. Kiss more of your neck.
"Yes, darling?" Tom whispers in your ear before he gently bites your earlobe. Earning your jaw falls agape. He moves again to your collar bone, kissing you in the softest-teasing way.
He breathes against your flushed chest. His breath is hot, just like the way he makes you feel right now. He lays a soft, gentle kiss all across your flushed chest. Lowering himself even more as he gradually pulls your dress down along his way till your breast finally uncovered. He softly gasps at the sight of you. He glances to your eyes, lust covers in his gaze, before he places a kiss around your nipple.
You hiss, fingers grip onto his jacket.The moment he flick his tongue then sucks your nipple, you couldn't hold in your moan even more. "Ohh!" You moan.
Tom pushes himself off your neck and looks back into your eyes. "Come on, Y/N, show me how fun you can be," he challenges.
And just like that, the switch is being made. You turn off all of the good girl sides about you and this lust overdriving you into some dangerous character that'll put you in trouble. You pull him back to your lips and kiss him passionately. Your hands quickly run his body, feeling the toned muscles underneath. 60 or something, it is a joke that he's looking this damn hot at this age. You rub him from outside his pants.
You could feel Tom smirking against your lips. "Good girl," he chuckles.
You hurriedly take off his belt. Him helping you too. You push his trousers down just enough till you can grab his hard shaft and pulls it out from the torment of its lack of space. Tom groans as you wrap your hand around him. Fuck, he's big. And so hard. You pump his cock and spread his precum all over his shaft.
"Is that what you want?" Tom asks.
Glancing back to his eyes, you nod. "I want you to fuck me,"
A content smile appears on his face. He pushes your panties to the side and just pushes himself through your folds without warning.
"Ahh!" You squal uncomfortably to the unfamiliar size of him, gripping onto his shoulder.
Tom quickly bottoms out, pushing all the way of him inside of you. He doesn't wait for you to adjust to his size. He starts to pound his hips mercilessly into you, fucking you in a relentless pace.
"Ohhh! Fuck! ToOoMMm!" You shut your eyes and titled your head back.
"Yes! Yes! That's it moan my name!" He grins loving the way your face contorts to pleasure drunk. "You wanted my cock the moment you laid your eyes on me, huh? Looking at me with all of that slutty eyes, you know what you're doing, darling," he says to your ears as his cock pounds mercilessly to your tight channel.
You couldn't reply to him even if you wanted to. You only look back to him and nod.
"Oh, T-tom!" You cry. Tears dripping down your cheek.
"Fuck, Y/N" he groans. Tom holds your face. He presses his lips to yours again, silencing you from screaming loud.
He got you a moaning mess that you don't care if someone could hear you or see this little scene in your car. You never fucked like this before. So good that you'd do anything to have him fuck you like this again and again. You'd give your pussy for him, five to nine, nine to five. Tom fucks you like the way you fantasize your filthiest fantasies.
You feel your walls clenching hard. And the white hot pleasure becomes too unbearable to hold back. A few more thrust, and you're spilling all over. You squal all over the car. Knees clamping together as all of your muscles tighten.
You never have orgasm like that. It is by far your most intense that after the pinnacle, you feel bliss. For a few seconds, the room is so quiet — so peaceful...
You open your eyes and stare at the roof of your car. All of a sudden, like a slap to your face, waking you back into reality, your door is pulled open from the outside. Quickly, you sit up and try to fix yourself, push down your dress and all but it is all helpless. You're so caught right-handed. Looking up, the person who caught you right-handed guilty is the one you hope for dear life it wont be— Tom Cruise. He's peering down, slightly bending to meet your eyes.
You feel so embarrassed that you couldn't even feel a thing or think anything.
"Your dad wanted me to tell you lunch is off... meetings." He tells.
You just sit there feeling like you're slowly crippling to die. The optimistic side of you still whispers that perhaps he didn't see nothing. You have a tinted window afterall.... do you?
Tom gaze down at you with that light up, amused emerald eyes. Then slightly the corner of his lips pulled up to a smirk, like he's been there for a while and just watched you pleasuring yourself.
"Have a great day, Y/N," he mischievously smiles and closes back your door.
#tom cruise#tom cruise x reader#tom cruise fanfiction#tom cruise smut#pete maverick mitchell#tom cruise fic#tom cruise x female reader#top gun maverick#pete mitchell x reader#maverick x reader#daddy smut#tom cruise fanfic#tom cruise fluff#ethan hunt fic#ethan hunt
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trip to venice.
Summary: Ilsa brings you to Venice despite your refusal and you confess to her the feelings of hurt you’ve had since she left you in Amsterdam three months ago which leads you to join Ethan’s team. You find her in the aftermaths of the fight on the bridge.
Pairings: Ilsa Faust x f!reader
Warnings: blood, slight smut
A/N: I just finished watching Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Part 1 so I’m writing this to make myself feel less sad. And obviously there are spoilers for MI Dead Reckoning so don’t read if you don’t want to.
You loved her, you really loved her and you thought she felt the same way too. She told you so herself just that night she spent in your room in Paris after a stressful mission. So why did you find your bed empty and apartment bare as if she was never there? Had you dreamed the whole night?
The only evidence that proved that the night had transpired was the singular note she left on your nightstand, propped up against a glass of water. On it, etched on the delicate white paper was a single letter: I. The letter was accompanied with a heart that was drawn in the same swoopy style as the letter.
You picked it up and quickly turned it over in your hands to see if she had written anything else. Much to your disappointment, that was it. You laid back in your bed with the note clutched over your heart and closed your eyes as the scenes of last night flashed behind your eyelids.
—
A frenzied knocking woke you from where you had fallen asleep on your couch while watching your movie. Worried sick about Ilsa, you thought it best to distract your mind with something else. She came to your apartment before she left for Kashmir, letting you know how the mission was going to go down as you braided her hair.
You met her while in the MI6. She was the agent and you were... well, you were also an agent but you were better known for your bomb-diffusing skills, how well you handled a knife, and your medical skills. Funny thing, that was actually how you met her, in a knife combat. You were tasked to bring her in because she had information on a known terrorist and caught her off guard. The fight ended with both of your legs wrapped around one another's necks until you called truce.
You fell for her quickly, quicker than anyone you had ever fell for before. It hit you that you were falling for her the way waves break against a barrier of rocks. You came to the realization one late night that two of you had gone to a bar for drinks.
You sat across from her in the headquarters in London, staring at her in your own subtle way— in a way that you thought she didn't notice— but she soon caught on whenever she looked up and you would quickly look back down at your paperwork. For her, she fell for you more gradually. It was a gentle love for her that she received from you, it was like the cool afternoon breeze that rustled through the trees of the forest; it enveloped you and left you wanting more when it left. This pining between the two of you lasted for years, through her disavowal which was shortly followed by your resignation from the MI6 to do privately contracted work all the way to the day she confessed to you that she loved you when she showed up at your apartment front door.
You opened the door and she was greeted by your very disheveled appearance. "Hey," she croaked out and your eyes immediately brightened, any trace of fatigue disappearing from your eyes.
"Ilsa."
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," she said, smirking.
"You're one to talk," you said, pretending to be cross and resting your hands on your hips. But you can barely keep your facade up long. Your real emotions of fear quickly break through your expression. Your lip trembles and you pull her towards you. She drops her duffle bag onto the ground and lets you melt into her embrace. "You were supposed to call," you tell her, you voice muffled by her shoulder. She laces her fingers through your hair to hold you close.
"I'm sorry, darling," she tells you and hugs you tightly, "I'm here now, I'm okay. We got to the bomb in time."
"The bomb?" You said, wiping your nose on your sleeve while pulling away, "Why didn't you call me? I could've helped."
"We didn't have time," she sighed out, "I got here as fast as I could."
"Come on," you said pulling her in, "I'll make you a drink."
—
The night progresses rapidly and both you and Ilsa down multiple drinks as she tells you how the mission unfolded.
"I have something to tell you," Ilsa said.
"Hmm?"
She pressed the lip of her beer against her chin and leaned towards you. "I love you," she said. Your heart beats rapidly against your rib cage and you breathe in that intoxicating perfume scent of hers. Her grip on the slippery glass tightened for a few seconds while silence filled the air as you came to terms with what the woman before you confessed. "I love you too," you whispered out. She takes your beer out of your hand and places it on the coffee table along with hers. She kissed you then, threading her fingers through your thick hair, trying to bring your lips closer to hers.
"I've loved you all these years," she tells you.
"Let's not waste any more apart," you said, "Do you want this?" You bring your hand to the first button of her shirt to indicate what you meant.
"I have longed for this day since the day I met you," she tells you, "I want this— I want you."
She straddles your waist and your arms encircle around her, bringing her impossibly close to your body.
You bring her to your bed and you make sweet love to her that night, you're gentle as she is with you. She lets you worry over her injuries and press kisses to the bruises on her neck. She cums on your fingers then your tongue multiple times and you bury your head into her heat for as long as she lets you, she then returns the favor until you're shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Mustering the remaining strength you had in your legs, you straddled her and brought both of your cores to each other, rubbing until she sobbed as she came and your thighs burned with exhaustion. You collapse next to her and bring her close to your chest. You kiss the top of her head and brush her hair with your fingers.
"Stay," you tell her, whispering it into the dark corners of the room, "I know you have to leave soon, but stay for the next two days— for me."
She closed her eyes tightly and let out a hesitant breath, "Only for you."
She kisses your chest, then your neck— sucking on your pulse point to mark you as hers. To be fair, you had done your fair share of marking up her body so now it was time she took her revenge. She kissed you long and slow, nibbling on your bottom lip until your lips became red like cherries. She takes your breath away every time she pulls away and you stare into her beautiful iridescent eyes. She slowly falls asleep in your arms and you spend the time counting the freckles on her eyelids before falling asleep as well. You held her close that night, not wanting to let go.
You woke up that morning blissful— if only that lasted for more than a minute. The bed was empty and so was the apartment. She had vacated and left not a single trace of her presence. That broke you. You collapsed to the floor, sobbing and clawing at your chest. Little did you know, this started a cycle for you and Ilsa. A cycle that always led her back into your arms in that tiny apartment in Paris. The next year, she waltzes in and out of your life whenever she pleases. It was as if she had forgotten that first night you had with her entirely. She would fuck you then leave the next morning and you were happy to give that to her if that meant you could have her for that little while.
You used to tell her about the dream you had for the both of you. The one that included laughter, coffee dates, the strolls you would take at the local park, the paintings the two of you would pick out to decorate your apartment, the patter of small feet that would fill the silence of the morning, and the infinite love that the two of you would share. She would lay there with her eyes closed, smiling happy. It was the only way this dream existed for her— in that small bed inside of the small Paris apartment you owned. The only place that dream lived was in yours and Ilsa's minds. You dreamt of a world where no one knew your names, a world where you could live anonymously, stroll down the streets hand-in-hand, free from the fear of someone harming you or Ilsa. She hides her tears when you describe this dream to her each time the two of you lay naked, sprawled together late at night. She let you dream for the two of you because that was the only way she could truly make you happy. You knew that she didn't want the same future you wanted but you endured.
Three months of taking the torture, you had finally confronted her. Not given the response that you deemed to be the truth, you sent her out of your apartment in fury, swearing that you never wanted to see her again.
"I thought what we had was real, Ilsa," you had told her, "You told me you loved me that first night in Paris when you got back from your mission with Ethan."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled.
The truth was that Ilsa was scared. She was scared what would happen if other people knew just how madly in love with you she was. She saw what happened to Ethan and how it affected him. She didn't want anything bad to happen to you so instead she kept you a secret and kept the relationship to a minimum because she saw it as the only way she could protect you. She would have you in the only way she could but she never knew how much she would hurt you in the process. You finally came to the realization of why she was treating you like such an ass one day the both of you had spent the night in Amsterdam.
"You're not Ethan," you told her in bed one night as you held her close, "And I'm not totally helpless. I know you love me, Ilsa. And I love you, more than you know. Despite everything you've done these past three months, I still love you even though I shouldn't."
"But I can't protect you."
"Baby, I can protect myself. You forget that I was a trained agent too. This is my life, I'm not going to let some future terrorist dictate who I should be able to love."
She left again that morning and that was the last you saw of her for the next three months.
—
Your head throbbed as you sat up. You quickly began taking in your surroundings and noticed that you were in a moving van. You clutched your head in pain.
"Hey, darling," a familiar voice said and your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach. Familiar hands grabbed yours but you shook them off.
"Where am I? What are you doing here? What happened?"
No one gives you an answer. It seems like the two men at the front are waiting for Ilsa to answer you but she doesn't. All she does is stare.
"Fine, I'm leaving then if you won't give me an answer."
You stand up and you're about to open the door when Ilsa grabs your free arm. That does it for you. You twist in her grasp and eventually pin her down in the van.
"Don't fucking touch me," you spat.
"Hey now, c'mon," Benji in the passenger seat finally said, "Just tell her, Ilsa."
"We knocked you out when you came out of your favorite cafe. Something bad is happening, I— we need you," she said and it comes out barely a whisper. Your expression changes.
You finally let her go and sit up. She sits up and coughs, rubbing her chest.
"Why? Why now?" You asked, looking deliberately at Ilsa, waiting for her to answer.
"We're going up against this new enemy and we could use your help," Benji answered instead, "Ilsa has told us about your skills and, well, we need someone like you."
"Thanks, but I'm not interested. She knows why."
You motion to stand up again and this time Ilsa speaks in a stronger voice.
"Y/N. Please," she pleaded. You look at her, which was the first mistake. You could never deny her anything. You would always say yes to her even if it cost you. Your jaw clenched in frustration.
"Fine. But if I do this, I don't want to talk to you or see you ever again. You got it?"
"I understand," she said even though it felt like her heart was being wrenched from her body.
"You've hurt me enough times," you told her.
The two men at the front of the car exchange looks.
—
You sat in the back of the van when Benji brings Ethan in. You had only met Ethan once before, he was nice. But you didn't tend to base how good a person was from first impressions.
"Y/N," he said when he noticed you.
"Ethan," you replied.
"Nice to see you."
You nodded. He looks back and sees Ilsa's deliberately avoidant gaze, looking anywhere but at you. He lets out a very small sigh and looks at Benji who gives him a grimace, shaking his head. He knew what happened between you and Ilsa, one of three people that knew. He knew how much the two of you loved one another and how stubborn Ilsa could be. You, on the other hand, from his singular encounter with you, he knew that you had a kind soul. Why else would Ilsa love you so? Even if she refused to admit it.
You hold up a paper clip and help free Ethan from his handcuffs. "Are you okay?" He asked.
You nodded your head, busying yourself with unlocking his handcuffs.
"I'm always fine," you told him once you freed him.
"So what's the plan?" You asked.
—
"What would potentially happen if a government got their hands on this AI tech?" You asked while sharpening your knife nervously.
"We don't know," Ethan said, "We need to find the other half of the key to find out."
Luther shows him the surveillance footage from the chase in the airport, "I took out the footage from your glasses and looked through everything. See anything strange?"
He notices a man glitching and replays the footage, "It's like he's a ghost."
"We can't find actual video of him except for right here," Luther stops at a frame of Grace, "He only exists in this reflection."
"The Entity," Ethan says, his voice dropping to a whisper, "It's protecting him."
"You saw him, didn't you?" Luther said.
"I did, but I wasn't sure."
"Well who is he?" Benji asked.
"Someone I thought died a long time ago," Ethan said, "In another life, before the IMF. Before I was offered the choice."
Ethan looks up at Luther, "In a very real sense, he made me into who I am today."
Luther grimaced.
"Does he have a name?" Luther asked.
"He calls himself Gabriel," Ilsa said, turning from the window. You look over at her and she meets your gaze before switching to Ethan's.
"You know him," Ethan said.
"There is no knowing him. He has no recorded past— the Entity made sure of that. He's a dark Messiah. The Entity's chosen messenger and he sees death as a gift he wants to share with the rest of the world."
"How do you know this?"
"I still have a few friends in MI6."
She looks back at you but you look away. "Friends who are afraid," she continued, "Of the British government gaining control of the Entity. Any attempt to try to stop them would be seen as an act of treason."
"And because you're disavowed," you said, "Friends called and asked you for help."
"They knew Gabriel served the Entity," she said, "They knew he was on his way to Istanbul to acquire one half of the key but I beat him to it."
"Do your friends know what this key leads to?"
"They believe it leads to its source code."
"Source code," Luther echoed.
"When were you going to tell me this?" Ethan asked.
"I'm telling you now," she said.
"Hold on, did you talk to them in person?" You asked, "Your friends. Did this happen over a phone call?"
"I'm disavowed so they had no way of contacting me in person."
Her expression changed when she realized what you were implying.
"He wanted you to find the key," you said, your voice coming to a whisper, "He wanted you to bring the key to Ethan. This was a trap."
"No, we can't be sure that was the Entity," she said.
"We can't be sure it wasn't," you replied.
"We can't believe anything outside of this very conversation," Ethan said, "None of you should be here."
—
You sat with Benji in the other room as he revised the firewalls on his laptop. You leaned back in your chair, having switched to a different knife to sharpen.
"Why did you guys choose me? Of all the people you could've called, why me?"
"Ilsa wanted you here. She wanted to see you and make sure you were safe."
"Bullshit. She doesn't care about me," you laughed.
He looks at you and your belief in your words falters.
"Why did she leave me then?"
"It's the only way she could think to protect you. Yes, I know how that contradicts the fact that you're here now but you're the best agent she knows and she thinks that maybe she can better protect you this way."
"That's stupid," you scoffed.
"Not everything is always a clear path in Ilsa's head."
You look away to where Ilsa is standing in the other room. Benji follows your gaze.
"She still loves you, despite everything she's done to make it look otherwise and I'm guessing you still love her too."
You give an imperceptible nod of your head.
"Go tell her before it's too late. With our line of work, we never know how much time we get with one another."
"You're very wise, you know," you said, "When you want to be."
"Thank you," Benji said, his face brightening.
You walk to the room in which Ilsa is standing in. You tilt your head to the door leading to the roof and she nodded. You went first. She follows a few minutes later.
You stood on the rooftop, gripping the railing tightly. You bent down and stretched your shoulders before resting on the railing with your forearms. She walks over and leans with her back against the sunset. She lets out a loud sigh.
"You're mad at me," she noted.
"Great observation," you said sarcastically.
"Y/N..."
"What? What do you want from me, Ilsa? I've given you everything I have. Every time you turned for me I was there and now you pull me into this mission. You couldn't even talk to me first? I would've said yes, you know. All you had to do was ask. I would always be there, despite everything."
She doesn't say anything so you look at her. Hot tears are rolling down her face. Your heart broke again even though you knew that it shouldn't.
"I'm sorry," she said, "Those nights in Paris then in Amsterdam."
Silence fills the air when she pauses. "I had a mission after Amsterdam and faked my death," she said quietly, "I wanted you to come with me but then I remembered everything I did— how I hurt you."
You turn around and lean against the railing, crossing your arms over your chest.
"I didn't realize that in my efforts to protect you, just how much I was hurting you in the process. I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness but I want to give this a chance, a real chance this time."
You looked over at her, "I wanted to give this a chance too. I always have. But I don't want to get hurt again. I can't keep doing that to myself."
"I know. But what if I promised you that I would try? I want to be with you, whatever it takes," she said.
You think about it, was it really worth it to give her another chance? She was the love of your life, yes, but she had hurt you so many times, though not intentionally.
"Fine," you said, uncrossing your arms, "I'll give us a try. But I want complete honesty from here on out.
She nods, "I can do that."
So you let her back into your heart because your love for her outweighed the grudge you held against and it was the only thing you ever knew how to do.
She hugs you hesitantly and you move your arms to hold her closer. She smelled the same as the night in Amsterdam. You brushed your fingers through her desert colored highlights. She tucks her head under your chin, revelling in the comfort your embrace brought her.
"I promise that I won't hurt you," she said, "Not intentionally."
You kissed the crown of her hair and she looked up at you before meeting your lips. You let her deepen the kiss as you pull her even closer to you. She found a home in you that day. You held her closely by the waist, not wanting to let her go. A smile tugs at both your lips.
"You know, I've never been to Venice," she said.
"Really?" You said.
"Yeah, it's my first time here."
"Hmm, maybe I'll show you around after this mission's over. What do you think?"
"I think... it sounds like perfection."
She bit her bottom lip adorably before snuggling her head into your chest. You never wanted to let her slip away ever again. She feels your grip on her waist tighten as your mind drifts once more to the plan. She was going to meet Gabriel at the bridge and fake her death. The margin for error was so small, barely imperceptible to the human eye.
"What's wrong?" She asked, brushing her nose against your jaw.
"I don't like this plan," you confessed, "There's too many things that can go wrong. It's not safe."
"Darling, it's the only way we'll be free," she tried her best to make you see the brighter side of the plan.
"You could die, Ilsa. I can't have that happen."
"I'll be careful. He'll hit me here," she said, guiding your hand just clear of her heart, "I'll be sure of it. Besides, if things get out of hand, death will just have to withstand my will to stay alive."
"Ilsa, don't joke," you said, looking away. Your eyes sting with tears threatening to run away.
"I'm not joking- hey, look at me," she cups your jaw with one hand, "I'll come back to you, I promise." She rested her forehead against yours. "I'll be fine," she told you.
She follows you back down where everyone is changing into their attire for the party. Ilsa pulls you into her room and sits you down on a crate. She sits in between your legs. You give her a perplexed look.
"Could you braid my hair?" She asked quietly and your mouth breaks into a smile. "Of course."
You brush her hair gently to one side. She plays with her fingers while you comb through her hair, plaiting it expertly.
"I haven't had my hair braided since you left me," she confessed, "You've always been the person to do it for me."
You smile to yourself at the thought of this simple activity she saved just for you. You finish braiding her hair and place it over her shoulder. You kiss the side of your neck and she turns to capture your lips. She rises onto her knees and laces her fingers through your hair, pulling you to her. Her tongue slides against yours as you deepen the kiss. She moans into your mouth and you grip her waist tightly. You nibble on her bottom lip before she does the same to you.
Ethan walks in and the two of you break apart. A smile creeps onto his face. "Glad the two of you finally came to your senses," he said and a blush rises to both your cheeks, "Could I get a minute with Y/N?"
Ilsa nods and leaves the two of you alone but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your palm.
She walks back into the common area where Luther and Benji are working on their laptops.
"Nice hair," Luther commented.
"Why are your lips red?" Benji asked.
Her fingers rises to her lips instinctively and she blushes.
"Oh my god," Benji said and Luther smirks.
He stands up and points his finger while following her. She ducks and speed walks to the equipment. "You guys are back together aren't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Benji," trying her best to keep a poker face.
Benji smirks and crosses his arms across his chest, "I like seeing you happy. The two of you are good for each other, clearly."
Ilsa blushes again before ducking her head and rummaging through a duffle bag, "Thanks."
—
"I have a task for you," Ethan said, "While we're at the party, I want you to follow us from a distance. We have the advantage of Gabriel not knowing who you are. I need you to follow Ilsa and protect her. I won't be able to do that while I get Gabriel. Can you do that for me?"
"Of course, Ethan," you replied. He nods, "You'll be off comms so that there's no distractions. I just want you to follow Ilsa, don't worry about me. Alright?"
You nod.
"Take the weapons you need. I'll come find you when everything's done," Ethan said. He goes to stand up but you grab his arm, "Stick to the plan. Let her fake her death. I know it's going to seem real but don't worry, we've got this."
He blinks appreciatively at your reassurance. "Good luck," he said.
—
You were following Grace, Ilsa, and Ethan to the party. Watching them from a distance. Ethan had told Ilsa to run so you followed her to make sure that she would be alright. You finally caught up to her in a deserted alleyway. She swings at you with her fist before realizing who was following her. You duck and grab her arm.
"Y/N?" She said, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Ethan sent me, he told me to follow the three of you from a distance. He asked me to protect you." You moved in closer to her and inspected her face and she closed her eyes, taking in your concerned touch. "I'm alright," she told you.
"Good, you had me worried back there," you said. She opens her eyes and sees that you haven't moved from your spot. One of your hands moves from her face to her hip and pull her flush against you.
"I missed this," you whisper to her. She puts a hand against your abdomen. "What are you waiting for then?" She husked out. Her hand scrunches the front of your shirt and pulls you even closer to her body. You meet her lips, they were soft and they enveloped your own.
You pull away and rest your forehead against her. "We should probably go," Ilsa told you and you nodded, agreeing.
"I'll be right behind you," you said, "Do you have a weapon?"
She half unsheathes the sword she's holding and you smirk. "That's my girl," you said. You take one of the five knives on your body and tuck it into the back of the waistband of her pants, you hide the weapon with her shirt.
"I added a little something special," you told her.
She smiled and kissed you, "Let's go."
She takes off running and you run behind her. You hear faint sounds of combat and Ilsa comes to a quick stop, causing you to crash into her. She held a finger up to her lips. She motioned for you to stay here but you shook your head. She motioned for you to just wait and you reluctantly agreed.
She walks up to the bridge and you wait tensely behind the corner, glancing over to your girlfriend to make sure she was alright. She starts fighting Gabriel and she gets stabbed in the leg. She lets out a heart wrenching scream and you run over swiftly and quietly. You unsheathe the knife from behind your back and slash his thigh— his femoral artery. He yells in pain and clutches his leg; blood gushed past his fingers.
"Who the hell are you?" He grunted. "No one that you need to know." You flip your knife and help Ilsa stand up. "Go check on Grace. I'll handle him."
She limps over to Grace and checks her pulse. You momentarily let your guard down and Gabriel gets back up. "Y/N, look out!" She screamed. Gabriel punched you in the back of the head and knocked you out.
Ilsa's vision turned red with anger when she saw your body crumple to the ground. She picks up the sword again and advances toward Gabriel. Her swipes are sloppy and Gabriel can see it but nonetheless she gets a few slashes in. He takes advantage of her sloppiness and knocks her sword away easily. He slashes at her abdomen and it barely misses her. He cuts open her stomach and she lets out a gasp and clutched her stomach. He pins her against the side of the bridge. "This is what happens to whoever cares about Ethan Hunt," he hissed in her ear, "When I'm done with you I'll carve up your little partner. She'll look so pretty all slashed up."
"Don't ever fucking touch her," Ilsa gasped out in between breaths. Her hand inches to the knife you had tucked into her waistband.
"I kill you first and she won't have anyone to protect her," he cackled.
"She doesn't need me to protect her."
She pulls out her knife and stabs the side of his body. "If anything, she's been the one to protect me all along." He doubled over in pain.
He grunted angrily and stood back up, stabbing Ilsa in the chest, she moved slightly to the side as he did so. Her eyes opened in shock, letting out a shaky breath. She looks down at the knife then back at Gabriel.
Gabriel stumbles back and lets Ilsa slide to the floor. She closes her eyes to control her breathing. You finally open your eyes, your head is throbbing and you look around. You push yourself up with much difficulty and see Gabriel's retreating figure. "Hey, asshole," you yelled out, "You forgot to kill me."
"Your time will come," Gabriel said.
You stumbled to your feet and pulled a small dagger from your boot. As he turns his back, you throw the dagger at him. It lodged in his back and he fell over before crawling away.
You look around and see Ilsa and your heart drops to your stomach. You run over her and see the knife. Quickly taking her head into your lap, you check her pulse, letting out a temporary sigh of relief. However, that relief didn't stay for long, you had a performance to put on. You hunch over Ilsa's body and cry. Your shoulders shake as you discreetly take out her earpiece and crush it beneath your boot. You lower your lips to her ear.
"You did really good. I'm so proud of you," you whisper into her ear. From a distance, it just looks like your grieving over your lover's dead body.
You brush her hair soothingly, continuing to let the tears flow.
"I love you," you told her. Her eyes twitch so you press a kiss to each of her eyelids, over her freckles. You hold her head close to your body and she stays motionless.
You hear heavy sounds of footsteps from the distance and you know it's Ethan. Grace would be waking up any minute now.
"No!" Ethan yells when he sees Ilsa's limp body in your arms. He places his finger to her pulse and his eyes soften to sadness. "Y/N, I'm so sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen," he said.
You sniffle and brush your tears, "She died protecting others. It's what she would've wanted."
Grace finally comes to and realizes what happened. She's in shock seeing Ilsa's "dead" body. "No, that wasn't supposed to happen. She's not supposed to be dead, she wasn't supposed to sacrifice herself," Grace starts hyperventilating, "Why did she do that? I didn't ask her to do that."
You lovingly brush at Ilsa's chestnut hair. "Ilsa was doing what she loved," you tell her without looking at her. You look at Ethan and place a hand on his knee, "Go talk to her."
You continue talking to her despite the fact that you look mad doing it. "You did good, my love. You did so good. I hope you can finally have some peace." You press a kiss to her warm lips before pressing your forehead against her.
Benji quickly but surely arrives only a couple of seconds later. He takes in Grace's hysterical expression and Ethan comforting her before his gaze landed on you. Your back faced him but he could see the tip of Ilsa's head. He hops out of the boat and rushed over to you.
"No, it can't be true. Ilsa..."
He takes in her pale complexion and the lack of movement from her chest. You look up with your tear-stricken eyes and a string of silent communication travels from your eyes to his. It was done.
"Y/N, I'm so sorry. This wasn't how it was to go down."
You nodded sadly, "I know."
You sniff harshly and brush your tears away roughly. "Please can we just take her home," you clear your throat, "I don't want us to be all exposed here and she deserves a proper burial."
Benji nods, understanding, "Do you need me to help?"
You shake your head and lift her easily into your arms. You take her back onto the boat to the underside, safe from the eyes of the Entity where she finally opens her eyes. You burst into tears then, for real this time. She brushes them away, shushing you.
"I love you too," she whispered to you, "I'm okay. Didn't I tell you everything would be fine?"
You nod, still trying to recover from the events of the bridge.
"If you could give me a hand though," she said pointedly, looking at the knife.
"Oh yes, of course."
"It's a cute knife but it would be better out of my body," she muttered.
You chuckle before indicating to her shirt then your knife, she nods. You slice open her shirt to get better access to the wound. "If you wanted take me to bed you could've just asked," she teased and you rolled your eyes.
You open your duffle bag to take out your medical supplies. You spray antiseptic over her wound and she hisses. "Sorry."
She shook her head, "It's fine. Do whatever you need to."
You get a firm grip on the knife and give it a big tug. It comes out quickly and leaves Ilsa groaning in pain. You toss the knife across the boat and rip open a packet of gauze and cover her wound. "Here, apply pressure. I'll stitch you up."
You take out your suturing kit and help her lay down in the cramped cabin of the boat.
"I only have numbing spray," you tell her and she nods, "Okay, it might sting a little."
She nods again. You remove the gauze and throw 3 tight but delicate sutures on her shoulder before wrapping her chest with bandages.
"Now let's look at that stomach of yours," you said before moving to her abdomen. It had a wider slash but the cut wasn't as deep as the one of her chest. You stitch it up nonetheless then wrap it. You move to her leg and she very gracefully takes off her pants to reveal the wound. It was a small slice, 2 inches wide. You stitch her up and bandage her.
Benji stomps on the floor of the boat to indicate your arrival. You look back at Ilsa. "Ready to hide again?" You asked and she nods. You drape a sheet over her body before lifting her into your arms and carrying her to the safe house. Luther gives your arm a squeeze when he sees you and you blink appreciatively before going to the room you had claimed and laying her on the bed. You remove the sheet and she looks back at you.
"Get some rest," you told her.
—
She was still bleeding heavily despite the stitches you gave her but you were on your own. The rest of the team had left to deal with the mission while you stayed behind and cared for Ilsa. You cleaned her bandages each night and replenished her with nutrients. You bought medical supplies and stole some from a local hospital and brought them back to her. She gets a fever on the second day and falls unconscious, shuddering ever so slightly in her sleep.
You took in her pale appearance in the bed. She sunk into the bed and her freckles looked dull. They never looked like that. You prayed for her to wake up so that the color would return to them. She looked so weak, her skin as pale as moonlight. She looked too frail. Too unlike the Ilsa you knew. You knew she had to get better soon, she had too. You wrung put a wet cloth and wiped her burning forehead. She starting to show early signs of infection so you fed her antibiotics and stayed by her side every night, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest.
Her fever finally broke on the fourth day. She wakes up and say your hunched over position by the side of her bed. She smiled gratefully at her guardian angel and combed through your hair. You sat up quickly at the feeling.
"You're alive," she croaked, her throat raspy from disuse.
"You're awake. God, I thought we would never make it out of that," you tell her.
"Oh baby," she said, a hand coming up to your face, brushing your cheek, "I'm okay. I'm alive. See?"
She brings your fingers to her wrist and you felt her soothing heart beat. You laid your head against her wrist. "Come, lay with me."
She slowly scoots over and you slide onto the bed with her and take her into your arms. "Don't move too much," you told her, "You'll tear your stitches."
"Thank you for being here," she said.
"I wouldn't be anywhere else. Just get some sleep, darling. I'll be here when you wake up," you told her, smoothing her hair. "Thank you for coming back to me," you whispered into her hairline and she closed her eyes with a smile on her face. You kiss her freckles repeatedly until she falls asleep.
—
When she finally heals, that's when the two of you say your goodbyes. Ethan, Benji, and Luther were the only ones there.
"But if you need me, I'll only be a call away," she told him and slipped a flip phone into his front pocket, "Only use it for emergencies. As far as the world knows, I'm dead." She gives him a tight hug. "And what about you?" Ethan asked, "What happens in your story?"
You shrug, "The love of my life dies and I decide to move to the quiet countryside of France and teach English." Ethan smiles, nodding his head, "That suits you." He gives you a hug as well.
"Treat her well," he told you and you nodded.
"If you're ever in France and need somewhere to stay..." you trailed off.
"I look forward to taking you up on your offer," he said.
"You ready?" You asked Ilsa and she nodded. She picked up her duffle bag and gave her last farewells to Luther and Benji.
"Come visit, okay?" She tells the both of them and they nod.
"Take care, Ilsa," Benji said while hugging her.
You approach Ethan one more time and take your favorite knife out from behind your back. It had an ivory white handle, a Persian tip, and a beautifully intricate wave pattern over the blade.
"This is for Grace. Tell her it's my gift to her for joining the IMF and taking Ilsa's place. We finally gets our happy ending now and it's all thanks to her."
Ethan nods, "I will."
"If any of you ever need us, I'll be there. You're Ilsa's family— mine by extension, we will show up, no matter what."
Ilsa laces her fingers with yours and nods. She gives you a kiss.
"Bye," you said. You and Ilsa exit to the boat that Ethan bought and placed under his name. The plan was to sail to France. It was a short ride and Ethan had packed everything you could possibly need into the boat.
"Go hide," you tell Ilsa and she nodded, "I'll let you know when we reach open waters."
—
You and Ilsa move into a chateau in the countryside, 30 minutes away from the beach. A place where the two of you could start fresh and build your family. There was a quiet town about a 10 minute bike ride, no surveillance cameras, just the eyes of locals who admired the love you and Ilsa had for each other. You and Ilsa went there on the weekends for grocery shopping before wandering around, trying the new patisserie shop around the corner, letting Ilsa feed you bits of croissant. The town made you and Ilsa feel young again, you would go out dancing like you were in your 20s, giggle in the back corners of the bookstore as you kissed one another and picked books for each other, let each other try their ice cream before agreeing which one was better. This quiet life, the one you and Ilsa always dreamed of was finally happening.
The two of you lounged on the couch together, reading. It was raining outside and the fire was crackling. She laid against your chest and you had an arm flung over her shoulder. She looks at your hand, the ring she gave you and smiles contentedly. She fiddles with the ring on your ring finger before smiling back up at you.
"Hey," you said, noticing her staring.
She moved your glasses from your face to the top of your head before cupping your face to kiss you.
"I'm happy we did this," she tells you.
"Me too."
She plays with your fingers while waiting, hesitantly, for the right moment to ask you a question that could change your lives.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" You asked, noticing her shift of mood.
She sits up and turns around, sitting on the backs of her heels, so she can talk to you face-to-face. "Would you ever want kids?" She swallowed harshly, waiting for your answer.
Your lips eventually break into a smile and nod, "If it's with you, then yes."
You put down your book and take her hands into your own before pulling her to rest on your chest. You stroked her back and played with the ends of her hair.
"Is that what was worrying you so much?"
She nods against your chest.
"I've been dreaming about having kids with you for forever, Ilsa. Of course I want them. I can't wait to see a mini you running around the house."
"I could settle for a mini you too," she tells you.
She smiled against your skin, her chest warming at the idea.
She lifts her head and kisses along your jaw. She nestled into the crook of your neck, breathing in your perfume. She felt a sense of fulfillment resting here in your arms. A fulfillment that she never got from joining Ethan's team. You offered her a life filled with love and safety and she wishes she had seen that earlier instead of running away. But there was no point in dwelling on the past now. You held her in your arms and she was going to cherish every single moment she could spend with you.
#ilsa faust x reader#ilsa faust#ethan hunt#rebecca ferguson x reader#rebecca ferguson#benji dunn#grace#luther stickell#mission impossible#fix-it fic#fluff#i hate tags
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You complete me
Writer’s note: I recently watched Jerry Maguire and I honestly fell in love with the movie and with Jerry ;) anyway, I saw that there were no stories about Jerry Maguire so here’s my attempt. I didn’t change much (if not anything) from the movie, but I promise to do something better the next time.
Warnings ⚠️: none
Jerry Maguire x reader!
Fluff fluff fluff!!!
Enjoy what you read!
You found yourself in a reunion with some friends of your sister. They we having the most boring conversation about how all men suck and they always mess up.
You couldn’t be more bored, but just when you were about to go lock yourself in your bedroom, the door of your house opens and you see your husband Jerry come in with a desperate expression.
You had married Jerry because you thought you’d be happy, you thought you’d make him happy, but after two months, you realized that he didn’t look too happy.
He would come home as late as he could, seemingly trying to avoid you. Maybe he wasn’t so happy after all, maybe you had taken advantage of him and that was why you decided to let him go.
You definitely didn’t expect to see him here tonight at your house with a worried expression.
“Hello? Hello” you heard Jerry say as he entered the house “I’m looking for my wife” he said looking for you in the small crowd of women your sister had invited.
When he finally spotted you, he expected you to ask him to go to a more private place to talk, but when he didn’t see you react, he just said “Okay...okay...okay. If this is where it has to happen, then this is where it has to happen”
He looked you in the eyes and pointed you with his index finger and said firmly “I'm not letting you get rid of me. How about that?”
Your sister and all of her friends looked at him expecting to hear a pathetic speech of a pathetic man just like all their ex husbands.
“This used to be my specialty. You know, I was good in a living room. They'd send me in there, and I'd do it alone. And now I just...” he was getting really nervous. He could feel his hands sweating as you stared as him not knowing what to do.
He looked at you for a quick moment and then just looked down to the floor whispering a silent ‘i don’t know’, indeed not knowing what to say.
Your sister looked disappointed at Jerry and almost embarrassed that her friends were witnessing this.
“But tonight, our little project, our company had a very big night - a very, very big night” he said trying to show happiness and you shyly smiled feeling proud of your accomplishment.
“But it wasn't complete” you looked up wanting to hear what he was going to say next.
“It wasn't nearly close to being in the same vicinity as complete, because I couldn't share it with you”. You raised your eyebrows surprised because you didn’t expect to hear that at all.
“I couldn't hear your voice or laugh about it with you”. At this point all of your sister’s friends were admiring the scene starting to change their minds about your husband; he didn’t sound too pathetic by now
He looked at you with teary eyes and said so silently, almost in a whisper “I miss my - I miss my wife”.
You still looked at him and you couldn’t help it. You just wanted to throw yourself into his arms and hold him as tight as you could, but you let him continue with his speech.
The room was filled with silence and it was starting to feel uncomfortable, until thankfully he started talking again.
“We live in a cynical world, a cynical world, and we work in a business of tough competitors” he looked you deep in the eyes and readjusted his posture and just said “I love you”
“You. Complete. Me”
You already had tears in your eyes. You couldn’t help it, he had won you over again.
“And I just had -“ “Shut up. Just shut up” you interrupted him, having already decided to stay with him forever.
“You had me at hello” you smiled
“You had me at hello”
Jerry just smiled relieved and walked a little too fast to reach you. He rapidly wrapped his strong arms around you and you placed yours around his neck. He held you in the sweetest of ways while stroking your hair gently.
You completed him
And he completed you.
THE END!
This was also made for my wonderful reader @lovemav555 who’s also in love with this man.
Hope you enjoyed!
#maverick fluff#maverick x reader#pete maverick mitchell#pete mitchell imagine#pete mitchell x reader#top gun 1986#top gun maverick fic#ethan hunt x reader#jerry maguire#request
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jazz bar (ethan hunt x reader)
"You like jazz?" You hear a hoarse voice behind you, and in the warm lights of the bar, you see a familiar figure, standing amused with a whisky in hand. It was Ethan. You smile incredulously, scoffing in amusement as the agent sits opposite you on the leather sofas, the jazz playing softly in the background. It was a cosy bar, with low lights and little booths as the slow hum of cars whirring in the streets outside had almost rocked you to sleep until Ethan had showed up.
He exhales lightly, leaning over his drink with that tight-lipped smile he always has tugging at his lips. You give him a once over: his hair has grown, uneven layers. It looks quite nice.
You clear your throat.
"What are you doing here, Ethan?" you hum.
He clenches his jaw ever so slightly, still calmly sipping his drink.
"Ethan..." you repeat, your voice a whisper.
He purses his lips and looks up, his eyes softening slightly. He answers with a sleepy voice, seeming unbothered.
"You mean in a jazz bar?"
"Very funny. I mean in New York." You lean forwards over the table. "You working a job?"
He chuckles lowly, tilting his head.
"I could ask you the same. Last time I checked, you work for Mi6, same as Ilsa. You're not here on holiday either, are you?"
You sigh, falling back into your seat.
"You're stubborn, Hunt."
He smiles warmly into his drink, swishing the liquid around, as if lost in thought. The music changes, as the band begins playing 'While We Were Young' by Wes Montgomery. For a moment, the bar seems quiet. People are whispering and chuckling. The soft sounds of glasses and footsteps are mixed with the slight smell of earthy tobacco and roses. A few people walk off into the garden at the other end of the jazz bar.
After a minute or so, Ethan turns to the band, leaning over the back of the sofa to watch them play. You've never seen him so laid back before. Somehow, he can feel your gaze on his face, and he turns with a little grin.
"I'm not working a job, actually. Not yet, anyways."
His answer takes you by surprise. Why would he be here?
"There is a job that Hunley has for the IMF, but I thought I'd come ask for your help."
You chuckle.
"Really? But why?"
"Because I just came back from the meeting, and as I was passing this bar, I saw you through the window."
"So you thought you'd just impulsively ask me to join your mission?"
"...Unless you're working a job."
"I actually just finished a job." You smile, looking down into your lap.
"Perfect then."
You look up, shaking your head. It had been two years since you last saw him. You'd actually met him through your colleague, Ilsa. The two of you ended up dating for about three months, but you decided to part, simply because it was too complicated. You were a British agent. How often would you really see him? You were glad to have parted on good terms, though.
He signals to the space beside him on the sofa. You chuckle, getting up and placing yourself next to him.
"What are you doing, Ethan?" you breathe out.
"I wouldn't mind your company again for a while," he answers, his breath soft and steady, close to your neck.
You turn to him, gazing into his eyes.
"It always ends up bitter sweet, hun," you sigh, offering a sheepish smile.
He says nothing, only nuzzles your hair ever so softly, his lips parted as if he had many things to say, but could not.
You lean into his touch, burying your head into the crook of his neck, even though you know that it could never last forever.
The band begins to play 'Rain in My Heart' by Frank Sinatra, and you smile with a sort of melancholy.
You mumble into his neck.
"How's Benji? And Luther?"
"They're good. They miss you."
"I miss them too. Ilsa misses you all, by the way."
He nods and the wraps his arms around you, playing with a strand of your hair.
You sigh, delicately running your hands over his chest, settling his silk dark blue shirt. He always looked very elegant in this shirt.
"You'll take the mission then?" he whispers, kissing the top of your head.
Your only answer is to lift your head, moving closer, so that your lips are brushing against one another. You shouldn't, but you close the distance, as you feel him softly move against you, humming into the kiss.
You pull away, as his lips still linger tenderly right below your bottom lip.
"Damn you, Ethan," you chuckle, "I missed you."
He smirks playfully, raising an eyebrow.
"Likewise," he replies, his voice as comforting as the first time you heard it. You grab his neck and kiss him again, more passionately this time, and his hands drop to your waist, tugging slightly at your skirt. His mouth moves gingerly against yours. He was always gentle with you. Gentle and patient.
He cradles your head in his arms, as you fall into his chest, with a giggle.
"Shall we go to my apartment," he mumbles into your hair. "I've got my bike. Benji and Luther can meet us tomorrow."
You caress his cheek, then his forehead, admiring his features as if it had been a century since you'd last looked into his eyes. You raise your eyebrows and laugh.
"Of course, Ethan."
#mission impossible#ethan hunt#tom cruise#mission impossible fallout#x reader#ethan hunt x reader#fluff fic#comfort character
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Reminiscing 18+
Maverick [older] x Reader [younger]
Warnings: Age gap. Mav: 53 reader 27, oral (m) receiving.
About: Maverick is heading out in the morning to train the latest TOPGUN students, and as you're watching him you remember a couple of months ago when you two had the most passionate night in that very car. Not a single backseat rider ever knew.
Red: Mav
Purple: Reader / Y/n
Rooster: Green
Requested? Yes and No. @youlightmeupfinn helped me with the plot 🤭
"Do you have to go?" The sleepiness in your voice hinting to your lover that once he's left you'd be passed out on the couch in a matter of moments.
"Dont hit me with that. You know I would much rather be here and home with you then teaching new students." He rubs your shoulders a bit, bringing you to his chest. A soft groan escaping your lips as the warmth radiates around you.
"Then quit." You huff at him. Cause he has you thinking about THAT now.
"Ah ah ah. You know I can not do that. If it were that simple baby I would. I promise, but I have to go. I love you." He plants a small kiss on uour forehead before heading out to the small toyota you both own.
Watching him pull away out of the driveway your whole mind goes fuzzy. You're taken back to a few months ago. You guys were on your way back from a christmas party when the car had stopped running because it was so cold out the engine couldnt compensate so it just. Stalled.
You managed to get to a secluded area so you wouldnt truly be in anyones way. You both hopping in the back hoping to cuddle up and be warm together
"Mav.. im freezing.." your words vibrate in his ear from the intense shivering you had been doing."
"I know sweetheart. Im getting the blankets and Ill be in the car quickly.." Just moments later he gets in the backseat with you. Wrapping you and himself up in blankets.
Your head found the base of his neck, which was warm and made you stop shaking so harshly. "This.. this is better than a fireplace"
"Is it?" He cracks out a smile as his strong arms come around you bringing you to his lap.
"Mav!" A squeal leaving your mouth as you giggle. Giving him small pecks to his lips. Quickly your kisses become fast and deep. Barely giving Pete a moment to draw in a breath.
"Y/n..." his voice carries into your ear...hips dragging against his. The older man becoming fuzzy minded.
"Have you ever heard that sex is a rreally good way to warm up?" you completely lie to him. No one has ever said that to you in your life. You know he is smarter than that but what he does instead of denying drives you nuts
"Oh yeah? Then get on your knees and give me some warmth with that pretty mouth" that stuns you to the utmost. But who the hell are you to deny Pete Mitchell head? No body. Thats who.
You get on your knees as unzip his pants slowly. Watching his reaction. You love to tease him while taking his jeans off. Although Maverick hates it. You LIVE for it
"You're Nasty Pete Mitchell...You know damn well I wasnt being honest" you raise your eyebrows in amusement. Your boyfriend looking at you with a slight grin
"Just another reason to punish you" He winks and your mouth falls open. No way he just used that on you. "Well get on with it. Dont dont sit there with your mouth empty." He coos
"Dont worry. Im not." You say as you place little, kisses to his tip, smiling as he draws a breath in through his clentched teeth. "Ooo someones sensitive." A low condescending laugh erupting from your throat.
"Get on with it dammit" He hisses at you, pushing himself up into your mouth. A moan escaping your mouth from the sudden action.
Slowly you go up and down on him, making sure your tongue swirls around every. Single. Inch. Hearing him make little gasps and whimpers brings joy to your day.
You dont even notice that you have completely stopped shivering, focusing in on giving him the utmost pleasure. All the while, sneakily pleasuring yourself. Where he cant see
Its now many minutes later. Maverick grasping the seat so hard, his knuckles are white, his hips driving up into your mouth. His groans indicating hes really damn close.
"Yn...sweetheart!" Those words were the last thing you heard before you feel hot strings of his cum shooting right to the back of your throat.
Unable to take it any longer you pull away, spitting out onto his cock as he smirks watching his heavy load coat himself.
"What a pretty girl you are down there on your knees" Maverick is busy trying to catch his breath but he always gives praise no matter what.
"I love you pete mitchell." You come up and give him dirty. Passionate kisses.
"Y/n-?" You're suddenly snapped back to reality when Rooster stands before you, waving his hand infront of your face. He comes to check up on you constantly.
"Oh. OH. Uhm. Hi Roo.." you grow a deep shade of red as he looks utterly confused. "Sorry. Just thinking about something. Nothing bad. Just. You know what. Lets drop it!"
Rooster nods as you two talk about the upcoming week and TOPGUN training. Going inside the house, the door shutting behind you.
Check out the masterlist for MAVERICK here
( Pete "Maverick" Mitchell )
#pete maverick mitchell#maverick#tom cruise#top gun maverick#miles teller#bradley rooster bradshaw#top gun#rooster bradshaw imagine#tom cruise x reader#bradley bradshaw fluff#tom cruise smut#tom cruise head canons#joel goodsen x reader#joel goodsen#jack reacher#ethan hunt smut#days of thunder#head canon#ethan hunt#rooster x reader#risky business
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“Mav would never lie to us,” Payback says. “Right, Captain Dad?”
Ethan and Maverick nod at the same time. “You’re right.”
“Okay, that was creepy,” Hangman says.
“Wait a minute,” Fanboy says. “We didn't know there are two of you. Have you ever switched places without us knowing?”
“What are you talking about?” Ethan and Maverick say, the exact tone and timing. “It’s always been me. I’m Maverick, your captain.”
—
It's fun being a twin. Fun for Ethan and Mav, anyways. For the Dagger Squad? Not so much.
#icemav#ethan and mav being chaos twins#slight MI:DR spoilers#pete maverick mitchell#ethan hunt#pure crack and fluff#top gun maverick#mission impossible
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Hiiii! I saw that your requests are open! Can you please do one with August Walker, when Ethan Hunt and the team that he has a wife and son and they get to see how soft august is with his family but immediately shifts to his usual self with them?
THIS IS THE NEW VERSION! Please follow the link to read the new version instead of this one! ❤️
Softy on the inside
paring ⁀➷ dad!august walker x (fem!)mom!reader
word count ⁀➷ 1.1k
summary ⁀➷ up in the ask
warnings ⁀➷ soft!august (for his family only), swearing, kinda questionable morals, making out (kind of), fluff
a/n ⁀➷ (tell me if I missed a warning pls!) soft!august but only for his family?? yes pleasee! Thanks for the request love!
masterlist
You knew who August Walker was. What he had in mind. And yet, you couldn't feel anything but love for him.
You didn't support his actions, and he was well aware of it. But you knew that you couldn't stop him if he wanted something. You were just like him when it came to being stubborn.
August may have had some very questionable morals and worldviews, but when he was with you, nothing of that mattered. He was the most loving, caring and respectful man you have ever met. The moment he laid eyes on you, August knew you were his one in a million, his future wife and the mother of his children.
And now, almost four years later, that’s exactly what you were. His wife, the love of his life, and the mother of his son.
Your phone rang in your pocket, and you fished it out of your jeans. „Hey Walker." you teased him, using his - and your - last name. A game you loved to play. „Hey, Y/N.“ he teased you back using your full name. “Baba, baba!” your son excitedly babbled, seated on your hip. He could sense his daddy from a mile. You giggled and nudged his nose with yours.
“Hey mister.” August grinned at the other end of the phone. The two have had a special bond ever since they first looked at each other the day your baby was born. That day, in the small hospital room with just the three of you, August’s eyes changed. Into the ones of a father, one that would do anything, literally anything, to keep his family safe.
Changing to a more serious tone, you asked, „Is everything okay?". "I'm good, baby. Uhm, I just forgot the other phone at home…" his voice lowered at the last part of his sentence. „Could you maybe bring it? Just if that's fitting for you, I don't wanna boss you around, peaches." „Don’t worry, where are you right now?" you asked while looking for the phone.
Finding it laying on the dresser, just as he described, you put it in your pocket. „I'll send you the address. I love you, peaches." August softly said. „I love you." you returned with a smile.
"Let's bring Daddy his phone, shall we?" you smiled at the little man on your arm. He smiled up at you, his eyes - which looked just like your own - shining with joy. You chuckled and kissed his hairline.
August was heading for the safe house in London and you knew he needed the phone, he wouldn't have called you if it wasn't truly important. And you knew it was safe, August would never risk having you, nor your child, in danger.
You were just going to combine this with a visit to the playground, a win-win situation, since August would have his phone and you could go on a swing with your little man and maybe even wear him out, so he'd be fast asleep for his nap time.
The address August sent you wasn't far away. Pushing the stroller in front of you, you had a glance at your phone from time to time, just to make sure you were walking in the right direction. „Baba!" your eyes followed the direction of the little hand, pointing at his daddy. August must've heard it, because he did the same. A smile crept up his face as he saw the two of you, and you waved a hand as you returned his smile. He was still standing a few meters away from you when you stopped. There was no need to get any closer to the group he was standing with.
The name to which August reacted seemed to draw the attention of his bystanders. A woman turned around to look at you, and you gave her a small smile, which she returned.
„Who's that?" One of them asked as he watched the interaction between you and your husband. „None of your business, Hunt." August spat out with a look that could kill, clearly showing that he couldn't stand the man in front of him one bit.
He made his way to you with heavy steps, anyone else would run if a man his size came towards them, but his gaze softened with every step he took until he finally stood in front of you.
„Hi handsome." you smiled up at him as you handed August his phone. „Hey peaches," he put it in his suit pocket, kissing your cheek, „Thank you."
„Be careful please." Your smile was now replaced with worry. August nodded, and a smile crept up at the corner of his lips, a strong hand at your chin tilting your head slightly up to look at his eyes, „I promise." he said in a low voice. He kissed the top of your nose, and you closed your eyes at his loving gesture, while the group he left behind couldn't believe their eyes at August Walker's sudden change. It was as if he was someone else. Instead of the cold and often rude behavior, he seemed loving and protective.
August bent down to your son, who was still in his stroller, looking up at his parents. „Hey man," August grinned at him, „Take care of mommy until I'm back, alright?" With bright eyes, your mini me shook his head yes and babbled some incomprehensible words at his dad. August tousled through his dark hair.
"Don't go anywhere until I'm back." he looked back at you with a hint of concern in his eyes. He tried to hide it, but you could see right through it. „Promise" you smiled. August bent down a little to connect your lips with his. Your eyes shut close, savoring the moment and the scent radiating from him.
His lips were soft, and you quickly opened yours for him. August didn't waste another second and deepened the kiss, cupping your face with his strong hands. Yours were already wrapped around his neck, lightly tugging at his hair. A soft moan escaped your lips as he gently bit your lip. August planted one more kiss on your lips before his hands wandered down to your hips, pulling you even closer. „I love you, peaches." he whispered. „I love you too." Your arms wrapped around his torso, your head nuzzling into his muscular chest. August's hands wandered up your back, and he just held you close for some time.
„Now, aren't you going to introduce us to your lady and the little Walker?" Hunt asked him once August returned to them. „No.“ was all he coldly said, the August they all knew being back.
masterlist
#fluff#henry cavill x reader#august walker x f!reader#august walker#august walker x female reader#august walker x reader#soft august#august x reader#august walker mission impossible#mission impossible#mission impossible fallout#henry cavill#henry cavill masterlist#henry cavill x female reader#henry cavill x f!reader#requested#mywork#dad august walker#dad and son#ethan hunt#masterlist#mom!reader
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Seek warmth (18+) — Tom Cruise
summary: Skipping the Oscars, you and Tom chose to stay in bed.
warnings: mature content, fluff, cockwarming
tags: @deanscroissant @call-sign-shark @tomsf18 @helloitstsyu @moondustfairies @katherineswritingsblog @elenavampire21 @sparklylap @auntiegigi @gypsymoon548 @lynnsthoughts @love2write2626 @back-tooo-black @cherriescruise
The crowd laughs as you scoff in annoyance. Tom finds it quite funny therefore he’s not as bothered as you are. You grew rather protective over your husband—how can you not as this man gave nothing but his whole heart towards his craft yet people still condescend him, mock him. Those people did not understand when a man truly became passionate in something, they would give their all.
Tom chose to skip the Oscars—he chose not to come as he has more important business to take care of, his Mission Impossible projects, and you. He’d rather leave to work, then come home to you. It warms you how this man handles his fame and his situation around him, yes people around the world loves him—but that doesn’t mean 50% of the world did not despise him. It’s not their fault, they only knew probably 10 to 20% of his life. They’d never knew what happens behind the curtains, he is a loving husband who takes care of his wife’s wants and needs.
Just by thinking of all the good things he has done to you warmed your heart resulting you to tighten your grip on his side as you lay across his chest. Tom noticed this as he looks down on you before adjusting both of you to get comfortable.
“Tommy..” You mumbled, hands caressing his chest before you went down to his abdomen.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Hmm..” You hummed as your hands went down and slowly massages his crotch.
“I need you in me. Just, in me. Please?” By the way you’re groping his crotch Tom instantly knew what you meant. By the way you pleaded, sounded so delicate there’s no hint of seduction—just a need.
“You want my cock in you, Princess?” Tom caress your head before leaving a kiss. You nodded your head, peeking up to him as he smiled and nodded his head.
“Do you still wanna watch the TV?”
“No.. I just wanna sleep. With you in me.” Tom chuckles before he positioned you to lay on your side facing outwards. Tom helped you out of your shorts before he undo his.
Giving himself a couple of pumps before he coats your entrance with his saliva from his fingertips. He pushed his cock inside of you slowly as you let out a sigh of relief whereas Tom a soft grunt, trying to hold himself back every time you wanted this from him.
He loves cockwarming.
But, sometimes it’s hard especially the way your walls would pulsate around his cock. Weird thing is you’d never struggle to fall asleep, while him, is the other way around. He would fall asleep 2 hours later as he tries to control himself not to fuck you awake right there.
“This enough, princess?” He muttered in your ear. You hummed and nodded your head as Tom took in a deep breath.
“I love you.” You mumbled.
Tom smiled, holding you closer. “I love you most, darling.”
#tom cruise#tom cruise smut#tom cruise fic#tom cruise x reader#tom cruise fluff#tom cruise x y/n#tom cruise imagine#tom cruise dirty imagine#tom cruise one shots#maverick#top gun maverick#maverick smut#ethan hunt#ethan hunt smut
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ive got a fic cooking guys im So Excited
#its been so long since ive actually posted a fic instead of just writing it for ages#ethan hunt#ethan hunt will be the end for me#ethan hunt x reader#ethan hunt fluff#mission impossible#mission: impossible#mi#m:i
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A Little Morning Fun
by flyingorfalling
It’s the little things they love about each other, like how Ethan always kisses her forehead before they walk out the door in the morning.
Words: 2455, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 9 of Little Things
Fandoms: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/M
Characters: Ilsa Faust, Ethan Hunt
Relationships: Ilsa Faust/Ethan Hunt
Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Smut, No Plot/Plotless
https://archiveofourown.org/works/51531430
#mission impossible#ilsa x ethan#ilsa faust#ethan hunt#fanfiction#established relationship#fluff#domesticity
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Read the fic on AO3 here: It's All Yellow
A fluffy benthan fanfic for Benthan Week 2023 by fictionallemons
for the prompt: The ultimate relationship test: Shopping at IKEA
@benthan-week-forever 💙💛
#benthanweek2023#benthan#benji dunn#ethan hunt#mission impossible#my fic#fictionallemons#benthan fanfic#domestic mpreg fluff set at ikea#you're welcome
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Ethan Hunt x GN Reader (Y/N Dunn)
•Warnings: kissing, lime, close to nsfw, not sure what else
•Pairing: Ethan Hunt x GN Y/N Dunn (Benji’s sibling)
•Word Count: 1249
“Benji, please! I promise I’ll stay safe and and you and the others will keep me safe,” you explained. Your older brother, Benji, is in the IMF. He works with all the spies and helps on cool missions. Ever since he told you about his work, you wanted to join. You want to help fight the bad guys and be a hero.
“I should have never told you about the IMF y/n…, it’s too dangerous. I can't risk losing you,” Benji cared for you a lot and he couldn’t handle not having you in his life.
“I can get trained by one of your friends, Ethan or whatever his name is. You can put me on easy stuff, please let me join. You love me don’t you? Don’t break a sibling's heart,” You gave him those puppy eyes he couldn’t say no to.
Benji sighed, “You really had to bring out the puppy eyes? Alright, fine. Let’s get you set up, but you will be in training for a while. Me and the others will decide when you are ready, understand?” you nodded your head.
-
It’s been a few months since you’ve been in the IMF and you will say, training isn’t easy. Ethan Hunt has been training you and he is strict. You do anything wrong and he will get on your ass about it.
After being surrounded by him for a while, you can’t help, but feel something when you see him. You try to ignore it, because your brother would never let that happen and you doubt Ethan would ever feel the same.
Ethan pins you on the ground as you were in your head thinking. “If this wasn’t training, I could have easily killed you. Now tell me, why are you dead?” Ethan was very close to your face and you felt warm.
“I-uh I was in my head and distracted myself,” you look the other way, embarrassed.
Ethan pulls you back up, “Don’t let your mind pull you away. You get lost in there and you are dead. If you don’t think at all though, you’re dead too. Let’s try again,” Ethan was working you to your limit. Now you understand a part of why your brother didn’t want you to do this, it’s fucking hard.
You start to spar again, approaching Ethan. You manage to punch him in the chest, but he instantly pins you down again. “Great punch, but you’re still dead. You need to be quick and when you can get the other person down, do it. Don’t waste a second,” Ethan flashed a quick smile and helped you up once more.
“I get I’m sucking right now, but you are being cocky. Put that smile away, before I punch it out of you,” he chuckled at your threat.
“I’d like to see you try sweetheart,” he winked at you.
As Ethan went to pin you once more, you fell to the floor and grabbed your foot. “Ow, ow, ow! It hurts really bad Ethan. I don’t know what happened,” Ethan rushed over to you, sitting down. He looked at your foot and looked back at you worried. You’ve never seen him like that, but your trick worked. He was distracted at that moment and you used your chance to twist him around, pinning him.
You sat on his chest, holding his arms down and you had the biggest grin on your face. “Your leg wasn’t hurt? I was worried y/n!” Ethan sighed relieved you weren’t hurt, but annoyed you tricked him like that.
“I had to distract you in some way! I was just using what you taught me, you should be proud I got you down,” he smiled at you, knowing you were right.
“Well, good job then. When you get out there, use a way of distraction against people,” Ethan told you. You then realized you’ve been sitting on his chest for a long time and started to blush. As you went to get off him, his arms grabbed your hips. Sitting you back down. “Ethan…” he moved one of his hands to your face and you leaned down kissing him. The kiss instantly got heated and he sat up, so you were sitting in his lap.
He pulled away from the kiss smirking. “I’ve wanted to do that ever since you arrived here,” he kissed you again. Your fingers went to his twist in his hair, pulling when you moaned. He started kissing down your face and to your neck. He kissed and sucked on a certain spot, leaving a little mark. It felt so good, he really knew what he was doing.
You started grinding in his lap and he moaned in your ear. “Careful sweetie, I won’t be able to control myself much longer,” you smirked at him.
“Don’t control yourself, I want it. I want you Ethan,” you kissed him again, using your tongue. You both moaned into the kiss and he started changing positions, about to lay you on the floor.
Then you heard a voice.
“Y/n, I wanted to show you something really quick! Sorry to take you from training, but it won’t be long,” your brother said.
Panick rushed to the both of you and you pushed off of each other. Adjusting your clothes and standing up, just before your brother came in.
“You two must have been pushing it! I see you’re very sweaty and red,” Benji turned to close the door as you quickly looked at Ethan, smirking. “Okay, so I saw this- y/n…what’s that on your neck?” Benji walked closer to you, pointing at the hickie.
Your eyes widened as you backed up slowly. “It's nothing! Probably just a-uh rash hah,” you instantly knew he wasn’t convinced.
“Ethan did this to you? Ethan, you did this to my sibling?” Ethan looked away from Benji, worried. “I’m going to kill you!” Benji raced to Ethan trying to grab him. He chased him around the room as you tried to stop him.
“Benji please! Nothing happened besides some kisses on the lips and neck, I promise. I actually really like Ethan and it’s not just gonna be a silly fling,” you told your brother, but he wasn’t convinced.
Ethan stepped in, “Y/n is telling the truth. I care for them, Benji. I tried to ignore it, because of you and because of being in the IMF…but I really like them. I won’t break their heart and I want to try to make it work as much as it can. We will be careful and I will make sure they don’t get hurt on missions, ever.” you hadn’t heard Ethan be so sweet, it made your heart melt.
Benji had tears in his eyes and he hugged you both. “Alright, just protect them when I can’t and if you break their heart, I will end you,” you all laughed. “Oh, and don’t do this shit again. I’d rather you not have sex with my sibling, but if you do at least don’t do it in public! I could have walked in on something worse and you would’ve been dead. That, I’m being serious,” you both blushed, giving Benji an “okay.”
Benji walked out and Ethan turned to you. “When everyone goes to bed, I’ll go to your room tonight?” you nodded your head and Ethan smirked. He gave you one last kiss and then you two headed out.
Hey, what Benji doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.
#ethan hunt#mission impossible#fanfics#fanfic writer#benji dunn#x reader#movies#underrated#writer things#fight nights#fluff fanfic#tom crusie#movie fanfiction
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