#mission: impossible fanfic
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Kinktober Day 23 - Bath/shower
pairing: ethan hunt x f!reader
cw: mild injury descriptions, imf agent!reader, shower sex, handjobs, thigh fucking, penetration, unprotected sex
word count: 1618
kinktober masterlist here.
18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI
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It’s seemingly the biggest relief of your life, stepping under the hot spray of water.
A few hours after the mission, the team had finally sprawled out. Ethan decided he’d stay in Paris just a few extra days, where he’d been holed up in a bleak little apartment a month prior to the mission. The place had been vacant while the team used the safehouse, now a little dusty and cold and dark, but its state was the least of your worries when you both stumbled inside.
Battered and sore, you both quietly made your way into the bathroom. Ethan turned the water on, the sudden jolt of it loud against the tub. Allowing the water some time to warm, you watched as he stripped in front of the mirror, watched as his eyes surveyed every splot of purple and yellow that littered his torso. He winced as he touched a particularly large bruise on the side of his ribs. You leaned in in the midst of stripping your own clothes, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade, right above a long, red cut. That scary fall he’d taken earlier.
“You took too many bumps,” you murmured with a frown, lightly dragging your fingers down his back.
Ethan shuddered at the feeling, hands gripping the sink. An exhale. “Got the job done. That’s all that matters now.”
“And getting some rest,” you remind him, stepping back to finish ripping your garments off. You reach for him when done, wrapping a hand around his arm and tugging him towards the steam.
Ethan groans when the water washes over him. You stand with him underneath the spray, letting the heat relieve your muscles. You watch him in front of you, as the water hits the top of his head and runs down his face. His eyes close, his long lashes sticking to his cheeks the same way his hair sticks to his forehead. You smile, pushing yours back, away from your face.
Soap in hand, Ethan brings you close, gently bringing it to your body. It smells nice—lavender, it must be. The scent fills your nostrils as Ethan brings it up close, running it up your chest and across your collarbone, over the curve of your shoulder, down your back. You moan softly at the pressure, more so when he sets the soap aside and just rubs the soapy bubbles into your skin with his hands. He watches intently as he touches you, teeth biting into his bottom lip as his fingers knead and massage your chest. Hands surprisingly soft against your skin, his touch climbs up to your neck. You wrap your hands around his wrists when he’s washing you there, and he takes the opportunity to lean in for a kiss.
The buzz of his touch and now his mouth on yours excites you underneath the hot water. You reach for the soap mid-kiss, rubbing it in between your hands and then setting it aside again to just massage at his skin the way he’s doing for you.
You both stand there, hands exploring the dips and curves and muscles on each other’s bodies. Ethan pulls away from the kiss but his mouth lingers on the corner of yours, where he lets out a small groan at the feel of your hands. It’s then that his finger brushes against your hardened nipple, eliciting a groan out of you too, except yours comes out more high pitched and needy. Ethan’s touch travels south, down your abdomen and over your hip bone, where his fingers wrap around your skin there.
The heat of the water has your bodies flushed and warm, and suddenly everything feels a bit too hot when Ethan brings you in even closer. You feel his cock against your skin then, hardening in between your bodies.
Your hand slides down his chest and down his abs, and then your fingers gingerly wrap around his shaft. He hisses against your mouth, jerking forward into your grasp. You squeeze him a bit, getting a few whiney noises out of him that only further your desire. He breathes out, reaches for the soap again to continue slathering you in it, to make use of his hands while you stroke him.
Ethan continues washing your body, his touch still gentle even as his breathing quickens. Matching his gentle touch, you slowly move your hand up and down, getting him fully hard in your fist.
The soap he rubs all over you runs down, dripping from your chest and down your legs, leaving your body slick and slippery. Ethan moans and pushes you back against the cold tiled wall, head dipping down to nip at your neck. You angle your head to grant him access, sighing against the side of his head. His mouth is hot on your skin, almost as hot as the water, and it only adds to the coil in your stomach. You grind against him in anticipation, needy and desperate for more friction.
You gasp as Ethan complies, feeling his cock poke in between your legs. You buck up against him, allowing him to slide in and out of your thighs. The bubbles running down your body help him slip and slide with ease, his hips jerking in and out of the crevice of your legs. He gasps against your neck, overcome with pleasure.
“Ethan,” you whine, rolling your hips. Your cunt suddenly throbs with need, clenching around nothing. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, you bring him in as close as can be. You’re careful not to slip, the soap still dripping and pooling at your feet.
Ethan’s cock continues sliding in between your legs, his heavy pants against your ear. You groan, back arching off the tiles as the pleasure trickles up your inner thighs and gathers in your abdomen. You feel your knees buckle, and Ethan seems to notice too, a strong hand wrapping around your arm to keep you steady. The other hand meets the wall beside your head to hold himself up, hips thrusting almost desperately.
You lean up, pressing your mouth to his neck to coax him closer to his imminent orgasm but it’s like he suddenly changes his mind, groaning loudly and pulling back just as you gently bite in between his neck and shoulder.
“Fuck, come here,” he mumbles breathlessly, using the grip on your arm to turn you around. Now facing the wall, legs slightly tense from having stood against it, you bite your lip and hold onto the grab bar beside you for leverage. His warmth is ever present behind you, his hips against your ass and then it happens quickly—he pushes inside you, the stretch delicious and easy. Your lashes flutter in pleasure, back arching again as your body takes him in, feeling him meet your deepest spots.
Your back aches slightly from the fighting just hours prior but Ethan bottoms out inside of you and suddenly all you can think of is the glow that washes over you, igniting your entire body in white hot bliss.
You can’t see Ethan behind you but you can hear him—filthy moans and quiet murmuring and praise that you can’t quite make out under the spray of water.
You’re sure you see stars when he starts to move, hips meeting your ass with every thrust, his fingers digging into your waist. The sound of skin on skin and the slap of water is loud over the spray, as are your sudden strangled noises.
Ethan moans your name, and then a series of whines stuck in the back of his throat, and you’re sure he’s close. His composure is always impressive, and he’s usually the gentleman that always needs you to cum first, but his hips start sputtering this one time. He pulls out just as he starts spilling inside of you, some of it in and the rest landing in the mix of bubbles and soap on the tub floor.
He gasps as he cums, hand coming up to the wall to steady himself again. Still, he guides his cock back inside you with the opposite hand to finish you off, biting his lip to suppress his moans. It’s seemingly impossible for him, and it’s your turn to gasp when the warmth of his whole body covers you, chest pressed to your back and lips next to your ear, where he continues spilling them.
“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear, and behind it. “That’s it.”
Your knuckles go white from gripping the bar, and you throw your head back, cheek to cheek with him as he sloppily starts his thrusts again. Ethan’s hands travel up your body this time, trailing your chest and all the other little sensitive spots he knows.
It’s not long before he’s got you gasping and sputtering beneath him, body shaking and legs going weak. It’s like the glow coursing through you suddenly explodes, overtaking your senses, and then it’s all too much—the water, the soreness in your body, all the steam surrounding you. Ethan holds onto you as it takes you, strong arms around your middle once he’s pulled out again. You instantly turn in his arms to face him again, arms wrapping around his neck, exhausted. Face to face, you both pant, coming down from the high together.
You shamefully have to take a seat in the tub to finish cleaning yourself off, legs feeling tingly, and Ethan playfully teases you about it. It’s all worth it, though, because then you’re wrapped in a towel and dried off and carried to bed, where you get to lay on Ethan’s chest and relish in the post-mission victory together.
#again again again sorry for the wait!#ethan hunt#ethan hunt x reader#kinktober 2023#mission: impossible#mission: impossible fic#mission: impossible fanfic#*#tom cruise x reader
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Random thought:
You and August Walker sneaking out of a work party to get some time in his private office.
Zombie
Well, Zombie, I'll tell you what I think would happen...
Title: Executive Temptation
Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI
Pairing: CEO!August Walker x Employee!Reader
Word Count: 2.4K
Summary: You’ve caught the eye of CEO August Walker. What happens when he asks you to go to his private office?
Warnings: (responsible) alcohol consumption, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie
A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics
Support/Reblog banner by me
Cover Art by me
My Masterlist
When the elevator dings and the doors open, he holds out an arm to let you enter first. As you step inside, you catch the eye of your coworker, who is making an obscene gesture with her hands. You can’t exactly blame her. You did just get into an elevator with the damn CEO of Walker Logistics LLC.
That’s right. You and August Walker are in an elevator on the way to his private office to speak more discreetly.
A million different things went through your mind when he first asked you to step away to his office, and it showed on your face when you first stuttered through an excuse to stay at the party.
“Tell you what, why don’t we just continue our conversation about your ideas over better booze than what they have down here? I’ll behave as long as you do,” he offers, his sonorous baritone washing over you like a warm bath.
It was more than easy to agree with him; he just had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the room.
As the elevator lifts, August leans against the left wall while you stand in the center. You try to maintain the silence that is only interrupted as the floor indicator dings every few seconds. The anxiety of feeling like you have to perform is strong, and you want to come up with something that he will find interesting.
But all you can come up with is, “You know, you can’t say happiness without saying penis.”
August’s head whips to you so fast, you think his neck may have broken. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Sometimes, when I’m nervous, I spout useless trivia. It’s the worst superpower,” you admit, hoping he would let it go.
“Sex is ten times more effective than Valium. So, maybe we shouldn’t be so coy,” he hums, pushing off of the wall and coming to stand next to you when the elevator stops.
When the doors open, you are greeted with quite a sight. The entirety of the top floor is closed off by walls, except for his secretary’s desk, which sits just outside double doors.
You are so surprised by the fact that you are in the CEO’s space that you just gawk at everything while staying in the elevator. It’s only when August stops the doors from closing on you that you close your mouth and follow him to the doors to his office.
Once they open, you’re greeted with a modern office space with two conference rooms around the left and right corners. His L-shaped desk sits in the center of the room, and the polished ebony wood stain reflects the lights of the city from the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the back wall. A leather sofa and armchair set that seems rather inviting fills the carpeted area in front of the mini-bar. You spy the bookshelves that line the right and left walls and wonder to yourself if he’s even read half of them.
Walking around the desk, your feet carry you to the right bookcase. You read the titles of book after book about business and the economy. How fucking boring!
From his spot at the mini-bar, August gets your attention. “So, what would the lady like to drink while she snoops?”
“I’m not snooping. Just looking,” you advise, your fingers swiping the various spines as you walk toward him. “And I would love some bourbon if you have it. No ice.”
“I think I’ll join you,” he remarks, retrieving two lowball glasses and a decanter of the amber liquid. Pouring about two fingers into one glass and then the other. He takes both glasses and places them on the glass coffee table that sits between the sofa and the two comfy chairs. He picks up his drink and turns to you. “What shall we toast to?”
The anxiety running through you is replaced by lust as you join him on the couch, close enough to feel his body heat. Pheromones must be wafting in the air because he smells like sex on legs. You bend forward to pick up your bourbon, and the top of your dress reveals some cleavage. Out of the corner of your eye, you see August tilt his head as he sneaks a peek.
“To not being coy,” you insist, offering your raised glass.
August clinks his glass with yours and says, “To not being coy.”
You both take a sip and when you put your drink down after a sizable gulp, August mirrors you and sits back against the couch. You turn, and he is watching you with hungry eyes. Now or never, you think to yourself.
Leaning in, you kiss the smirk right off his face. His soft, pink lips part and his tongue licks into your mouth. Deepening the kiss, you allow him entry and massage his tongue with yours as you move to his lap. His hands caress your thighs before sliding up your leg to land on your hips. You know what he is after, so you start to rock your hips and are awarded with a deep rumble of a groan from August.
With his hands grabbing onto your ass, you grow bold and swivel your hips once, then twice. As August bucks up into you, you whimper, and he breaks the kiss. Maintaining eye contact, he reaches up your dress and stops when his fingertips touch your panties.
“May I take these off?” he asks, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip as he looks up at you.
“Fuck, yes,” you yelp, your desire becoming too much to handle.
With your permission, he pulls them down your legs as far as they will go with you kneeling in his lap. Positioning you to lay back on the couch, he removes them completely, then dives in between your legs with his hands wrapped around your thighs to hold you close.
He kisses your inner thighs before focusing on your wet pussy. To say he must have been starving for you is an understatement. The way he licks from your hole to your swollen nub was just this side of overwhelming. Swirling his tongue around your pearl, he waits until you begin to buck your hips to take your clit into his mouth.
Your hands go to his hair, clutching his chestnut locks as he sucks your soul out of your body. You’re near tears when he slowly inserts a finger between your folds. You barely hold yourself together as he strokes your inner walls, paying attention to the inner bundle of nerves that drives you wild.
Inserting another finger, he picks up his speed while massaging your G-spot. Listening to your body, he knows that you are on the very edge. One wrong move, and he could ruin it completely.
But, lucky for you, he knows what he is doing.
He lets your clit slip past his lips, changing his tactic. Flicking his tongue up and down on your bud while adding a third finger to stretch you out, he puts on a master class at foreplay. Within moments, the hold you have on your faculties is all but forgotten as you are brought to orgasm. Your walls clench around his fingers, and he continues to play with your sweet spot. The noise of your sopping hole echoes in the office.
“That’s it; let it go. Such a good girl for me. So fucking delicious, too,” he praises, talking you through it. “You sound so fucking sexy right now.”
When you come down from your high, August is right there to kiss away the tear that escapes your eye as he caresses you. Your entire body is afire with sensations. His hands on you feel feather-soft. Looking up into his face, you can’t help but bring him down to kiss him. The kiss starts slow, but as it continues, tongues and teeth make an appearance. He nibbles and sucks on your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from deep in your throat.
He breaks the kiss again to kiss and nip at your jaw and neck. You wrap a leg around his waist, shoving your hand between you to stroke him through his slacks. The groan from him at the contact radiates through you. You can tell he has a monster under those clothes, and you want it.
Echoing his politeness from earlier, you speak up, “May I?”
“Please,” he gushes, sitting on his heels to give you better access.
You unzip and unbutton him, reaching inside to take him out. You thank him silently for prepping you with three fingers, because damn. The uncut snake in his pants is heavy in your hands. While you want nothing more than to have it inside you, you would also love to gag on it. August’s hand under your chin lifts your face until your eyes meet.
“As much as I would love your pretty lips around me, I need to be inside you,” he implores, his thumb ghosting over your lips. “I promise you can choke on it later.”
You gasp as he removes your hand from his dick and pushes you slightly to lay back down. He throws your legs over his shoulders, lining himself up with your core, before pushing in slowly. He takes his time, letting you get used to being so filled and allowing him to adapt to your tight heat.
Folding you into yourself, he retracts his hips and thrusts forward. You groan in unison. Pulling out until just the tip remains inside you, he slams back in, kissing your cervix with his cockhead. He picks up the speed, and you can hear how fucking wet you are. The sloshy slaps of flesh on flesh are enough to have you close to orgasm already.
The entire room smells like sex, and it is intoxicating. Your gasps and whines as he fucks you only spur him on to help you chase after your climax. Parting your legs, he grips your thighs, fucking into you harder and faster. The look of determination on his face has you reaching down to play with your sensitive clit.
He swats your hand away in favor of using his fingers to make you cum around him. It happens quicker than you planned, a testament to his expertise. He fucks you through your release, your overworked pussy leaving cream all over his cock. He slows down to a more intimate pace as you come back to yourself.
You tangle a hand in his messy curls and pull him down to kiss you. With your hand on his hip, you urge him to move again. He kisses you deeper as his hips pick up the pace fucking you. You swallow every grunt and grumble from his thrusts. When his lips part from yours, you see the want in his eyes. You know he’s close by the way his hips stutter and his dick twitches.
Tightening your legs around his waist, you push your heel into his ass, and he gets the hint.
“You want my cum? Ugh, fuck, I’m so close. Shit! Argh, fuck,” he gasps, his cock spasming as he spills inside you. He collapses on top of you with his face in your neck, and you rub his back while he comes down.
Once his softening length slips from you, he grunts and picks himself up to sit back on his heels. He watches as his cum leaks out of you and licks his lips. He gets up and tucks himself away before motioning for you to stay right where you are. He grabs a towel from the mini-bar, coming back to clean up his mess from between your legs. He tosses the towel on the coffee table and picks up his drink to take a sip.
“I wasn’t lying earlier, you know,” he discloses, moving to sit down when you pull yourself into a seated position.
“Huh?” you ask, wracking your brain to find out what he’s talking about.
“I still want to hear your ideas on how to expand our market reach. I mean, you don’t even work in our marketing department, and your ideas have my attention,” he praises, his voice sincere in tone.
“I do have a few ideas on how the company can grow,” you beam, happy to be noticed. “But I think I’d like to discuss that first thing on Monday. Right now, I’d rather enjoy this bourbon and spend time not talking about work. If you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind at all,” he affirms, sipping his drink before smiling at you. “I am actually looking forward to Monday for a change. But before then, would you let me take you to dinner? I promise there will be no work talk.”
You look into your glass, swirling the amber liquid while you think about it for all of three seconds. “I’ll let you take me to dinner on one condition,” you advise, a smirk playing on your lips.
“And what would that be?” he asks, his arm going to the back of the couch.
“You let me choke on it before tonight is over,” you flirt, holding in a giggle.
The way his eyes darken is a thing of beauty. He lowers his drink from his lips and says, “Fuck, where did that coy little thing go? I’m not complaining, by the way. I’ll make sure you get a taste; don’t you worry.”
You suddenly feel very warm, and you can’t believe this man is real. You wonder how his words can make you want nothing more than to kiss him until you can’t breathe. You put down your glass after downing the last bit in one go. Liquid courage, don’t fail me now, you think to yourself.
August puts down his glass and leans back. You crawl into his lap again, a knee on either side of his hips. Entwining a hand in his hair, you lean forward and capture his lips again. This time, the kiss is slow and sensual. Your tongue dances with his until your lips touch again. Nipping at his bottom lip elicits a whimper from him that is music to your ears.
His hands move to your ass, gripping the globes as if his life depended on it. When one hand leaves, you only miss it for a second before it lands back on your cheek with a slap. You moan into his mouth, and you can feel the rumble of a chuckle in his chest.
He’s got you right where he wants you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
A/N: This story was super fun to write. I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!
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#henry cavill#henry cavill characters#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill fanfic#august walker#august walker fanfiction#august walker smut#august walker fanfic#august walker x reader#ellethespaceunicorn fanfic#mission: impossible fallout#mission impossible: fallout#mission: impossible fallout#mission impossible fallout#mission impossible#henry cavill smut#executive temptation#ceo august walker
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Cold
Prompt: Slow & Romantic, Cock Warming from @florxdexcerezo (x) Thank you so much for sending the prompt in. Sorry its taken so long.
Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader
Word Count: Approx. 600
Warnings: Smut, cock warming, p in v sex
Authors Note: I wrote this a few weeks ago, but wasn't feeling up to posting it. I'm still on semi-hiatus, going to be a couple of months more at least, but here is a thingy I did. Hope you like it. Thanks to @nashibirne for reading.
Edited by me, there will be errors
Dividers by me.
Masterlist
Celebration Masterlist
Your eyes fly open. A heady rush of adrenaline pumps through your veins as your hand slips under the pillow on the empty side of the bed and curls around cold steel. You keep your breath slow and even as if you're still asleep and listen carefully.
But you’re too late.
A firm hand covers yours and a heavy, hard body traps you beneath it.
“Don’t scream,” he says, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
You loosen your grip on the pistol and allow the hand to take it away. In the dark, you hear the thunk of the gun being placed on the nightstand.
“You could knock,” you point out.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“And yet, here we are.”
The weight on top of you shifts and you think you can just make out a small smile on his moustached face. You reach for the lamp, but he stops you.
“Leave it off,” he says.
“August, please,” you whisper. Your hands cover his whiskered cheeks briefly before he shakes you off.
“Leave it.”
He stands. You vaguely see his outline as he removes his clothes. He’s moving stiffly, slowly and breathing in soft grunts and rough exhales.
“How badly are you hurt?” you ask.
“Nothing so bad that a good night's sleep won’t heal,” he says, dismissively. Sometimes it scares you how easily and smoothly he lies to you.
“Then why are you here?” you ask with a rueful laugh. “The last thing you ever do here is sleep.”
You see his shape pause. You stare at where you assume his eyes would be, he needs to know you aren’t stupid; that you know this thing between you won’t result in a ring on your finger or a pretty white dress.
The longer he stands there unmoving, the harder it is to keep looking into the darkness. What is he thinking? You open your mouth to ask, but close it with a small shake of your head. It's not like he’d be honest anyway.
He starts to undress again. You lay back in bed. Does it really matter if he’s here to fuck you or sleep next to you? You’ll give him what he wants, you always do. You can’t help yourself.
He slips into bed, curling himself around your naked form. His hands begin a long exploration along your hip to your ribs and back again while his face is buried into your neck. You can hear him draw rough, ragged breaths, his mouth is so close to your ear, his lips graze along its edge.
Driven by a primal instinct, you arch your back, lean against him and open your legs in an invitation that needs no explanation. He doesn’t hesitate and quickly you feel the smooth, warm head of his cock sliding over your folds, gathering your wetness before sinking deep inside.
By the same instinct, you begin to roll your hips, relishing the feel of his length as your pussy glides over him. But his hand clasps your hip and holds you still, your ass and back pressed firmly against his chest.
“When I’m gone, I dream of this,” August whispers, “of being inside you.”
“Then please move.”
“No,” he growls, “I need to be inside you. All night.”
You moan and he throbs deep within you. His nose presses into your hair, his arms wrap around your chest, holding you tighter and tighter until you think he’ll crush you.
“You’re so warm,” he whispers as he softens his hold on you. “I need you to keep me warm. I’m so fucking cold without you.”
#rabbitsmilestone23#henry cavill#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill fan fiction#august walker#august walker fanfiction#august walker fic#mission impossible#mission impossible fallout#august walker x you#august walker fanfic#august walker x reader#august walker x female reader
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‧͙⁺˚･༓☾ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒸ℴ𝓃𝒻𝓇ℴ𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃 ☾･˚⁺‧͙
dbf!august walker x fem!reader
✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚
𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦.
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: a much-needed night out turns into a confrontation with august.
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 18+, a lot of angst
𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2k+
✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚
“Slow down!”
In your backless gold dress, you were dragged by the hand into the most popular nightclub in the city by your best friend Willow. The place was jam-packed, people squeezing into every possible space as the lights flashed, everyone grinding against one another.
When August hadn't gotten back to you since the morning after Thanksgiving, you initially assumed he was simply busy running his company like usual. However, after a month had passed, you were mistaken—it was clear that he had no regard for you.
So to get your mind off of him, you agreed to go out with Willow instead of staying at home with your thoughts.
“Shots!” your friend shouted over the blaring music. After licking the salt off the glass's rim, you quickly drank the tequila and chased it with a lime. A burn in your throat followed. Before you knew it, the bartender had poured you numerous rounds of shots, and you were texting an inebriated text message to August.
"I'm over you; don't expect to go see or hear frlm me abain bue augyst.”
A drunken smile took over your face as you pressed send and turned off your phone. The music around you intensified as you made your way to the dance floor with Willow. She took hold of your hips, and the two of you began to rub and sway against one another in tune with the music.
Everything around you blended into a blissful, intoxicated blur.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
August realized after Thanksgiving that perhaps being with you wasn't the best choice. He was having an affair with his closest friend's daughter. He might not have seen you grow up, but he's been told stories of you from your father over the years, which makes it safe to say that he never imagined the two of you would start dating secretly. However, you were his favorite forbidden fruit from the moment he saw you.
When he saw you again, he was unable to control himself. Though he was aware that it was foolish, he didn't give a damn. He assured himself that he only needed to be with you once, but after tasting you, he realized he was in trouble and needed more.
The way your eyes looked at him was always so needy, innocent, and full of life.
In addition, he knew that he wouldn't be able to control himself if he saw you again and you gazed at him with those stunning doe eyes; you would have him totally wrapped around your finger.
When his phone buzzed in his coat pocket and your name flashed, immense guilt filled him. Though the last thing he wanted was to hurt you, he realized he should have gotten in touch with you and had a mature conversation instead of ignoring you.
August stopped walking as he read your text. His face took on an angry, worried expression as his eyebrows furrowed. Saying you were over him in a drunken text message to him? That was not something he was willing to accept.
All he got when he tried to call you was your voicemail. August texted you multiple times after you didn't return his calls, and each message failed to send. As he glanced at your often updated Twitter account—which you hadn't posted on—his jaw hardened.
However, he saw that your friend Willow had tagged you in some of her pictures. August enlarged the background of one of the pictures to reveal the name of the club you were at. He jumped in his car and drove quickly to the club without thinking.
Adrenaline ran through him as he entered and pushed through the bodies in the club. His eyes searched in all directions, looking for you. August called you again, but he was still only able to reach your voicemail. He muttered to himself, "Fuck's sake, where are you?"
This was the last place he wanted to be, and it was evident from the disdain on his face. However, he was unable to shake the image of you. Even if he had to throw you over his shoulder, he would not leave this club without you.
It seemed like hours until he finally saw you dancing near bystanders. Though he didn't know the man behind you, he did identify your friend Willow, who was dancing next to you. The man's hands were on your hips, and his body was pressing against your back. What irritated August even more? As the stranger spoke in your ear, you grinned and laughed.
August cursed his way among the clusters of people surrounding him until he was directly in front of you.
Shock was the first feeling that went through you when you saw August in front of you, but that quickly transformed into you clumsily approaching him. "What are you doing here?" You spoke incoherently to him.
"What are you doing here? is the question that needs to be answered, not what am I doing here? And why did you turn off your phone?” August was enraged. His jaw was tightening, and his nostrils were flaring.
Pressing your finger into his firm chest, you gave him a shrug and said, "Because I didn't want to speak to you."
He hauled you to the closest restroom by the arm.
"It doesn't matter if you choose not to talk to me." He advanced on you with a stalk. "You're endangering yourself by acting like a drunken idiot. Rubbing your ass like a slut on a stranger," steam was nearly emanating from his body, and his chest was heaving.
You could feel the tears welling up at the way he spoke to you.
"Slut? A drunken idiot? That's how you actually see me?" you asked.
Venom dripped from his response as his eyes poured into yours. "Yes."
"Screw you! You're not allowed to call me a slut. I am free to do as I choose; you have made it very apparent that I am not yours. I don't need to justify myself to you. There is absolutely nothing you could do to stop me from going back out there, taking that guy home, and fucking him." The buzz you had was long gone.
August could see by the expression in your eyes that you were serious. Though he knew immediately after speaking the words that he shouldn't have spoken them, his anger prevented him from stopping.
He inhaled deeply.
One moment you were standing on your feet arguing with August, then suddenly he flung you over his shoulder and stormed out of the bathroom. “Put me down!” you yelled over the blaring music.
Giving you a slap on your ass, he replied, “Be quiet before I have to teach you a lesson.”
After that, you stayed silent, both you and August.
All you got out of August after leaving the club and returning to his house was silence. Which, you thought, was absurd given what he had said to you; he needed to be saying sorry.
He got out of his car to open the door on your side as soon as it pulled into his driveway. "Let's head inside; come on." With your arms folded, you sat there motionless, gazing out of his front windshield. "No." His gaze was burning holes in you, and you could feel it.
Once more, August hoisted you over his shoulder while yelling, "Dammit!" After entering his home, he went to his room, sat you on his bed, and knelt down. August gripped your left foot. "What are you doing?" you asked him, casting him a strange glance. His gaze locked with yours. "Helping you get comfortable so you can sleep off your buzz." Despite the rolling of your eyes, he could tell you were grateful when you glanced at him.
"If you were going to be disrespectful, you didn't have to show up tonight," you added. He gave a head nod, then carried on. "Go to sleep, and we'll talk in the morning," before helping you into his bed and heading out to sleep in the guest bedroom for the evening.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Slowly opening your eyes, you saw rays of sunshine peeking in through the window, yawning and rubbing your eyes as the creaky door opened. Rolling over, you saw an exhausted August enter with some medicine and drink. "Take this ibuprofen for your headache, and wash it down with a bit of this water."
Without even looking at him, you swallowed the pills and then the water.
"Last night, words just can't—" You raised your finger. "I'm going to cut you off there. You referred to me as a drunken idiot and a slut. I never would have imagined you saying that to me, of all people." An expression of regret filled his face.
“I was scared for you; you weren’t answering my texts or my calls. And then I see you dancing with some guy? It made me angry, and while I was worried about you, it seemed you didn’t care at all.” August was trying his best not to raise his voice.
"So, even though you were afraid and concerned for me, you became jealous and decided it was alright to label me a slut? A normal person wouldn't do what you did; instead, they would be relieved that the person they care about is okay. You know what, too? If you hadn't ignored me for the previous month, I wouldn't have gone out and danced with a guy last night."
“I know. I thought-” August paused for a second, painfully staring at you, then carried on. "I didn't think it would be smart for us to keep seeing each other. I have known your father for a long time; we have developed a business together, and in certain aspects, I even think of him as family. I don't want to betray his trust. I also didn't want to lose you or cause you any harm. I couldn't." You just listened to him without saying anything. "Jesus, when he discovers that I'm in love with his daughter, he's going to kick my ass.”
You put your hands over your eyes and then turned to face him again. "August, you can't just say things like that. Not after what happened last night; that's not fair to me. Prior to last night, everything was great and perfect while we were together, but I would never want to go through what I did last night again. So, we should end this now if that's how you plan to respond when I decide to go out. Another advantage is that you won't have to decide between my father and myself."
"You want us to stop seeing each other?" August asked, shaking his head. "Everyone makes mistakes. Nobody is perfect. I feel bad for last night. I regret the way I spoke to you. But what if something did happen to you? Mmm? If I let you stay there and something terrible happened, I would never be able to forgive myself."
You glanced down at the glass you were holding instead of looking at him. "At least for the time being, I believe it's best if we see other people."
With a puff of laughter, he went on. "No, that is not something that is going to happen; you can forget about that." Before getting up and heading to his closet, August took the glass from your hands and set it on the bedside table. With a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt, August came back. "Go take a shower; my bathroom has everything you need. After that, come to the kitchen. I'll be waiting for you with breakfast ready."
Startled by his answer and his behavior, you blinked incessantly. He was beginning to give you whiplash. However, you ultimately knew what you were going to do. After you got up, showered, got dressed in his clothes, and brushed your teeth, you went downstairs to have breakfast with him.
"Tomorrow, 8 p.m., I'm taking you out for dinner," August said, setting a plate of pancakes with a whipped smiley face in front of you. “And if I say no?” August smirked while pouring you some orange juice. “Funny joke, now eat.”
˚₊⭑‧꒰ა [Tag list] ໒꒱ ‧₊⭑˚
@shellyshellshell @ellethespaceunicorn @beck07990 @ktficworld @chloe92 @kingliam2019 @juliaorpll78 @armystay89 @nighttimestan @angelcavill66 @luxeydior @kittymiaow @plaidcat4815 @identity2212
#first post#smutty#henry cavill characters#august walker fanfiction#august walker smut#august walker x reader#august walker#august#angst#august walker x you#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill fanfiction#august walker fic#henry cavill one shot#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill#mission impossible
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A few of my favorite photos + gifs of Tom Cruise! ♡
#tom cruise#tom cruise fanfic#tom cruise imagine#tom cruise x reader#tom cruise x female reader#mission impossible#Ethan hunt#actors#tom cruise icons#top gun#top gun maverick#pete Mitchell#pete maverick mitchell
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learning to warm cold hands || ethan hunt
summary: after a particular mission, sunshine isn’t sunshine anymore, and it worries him. (aka a cliche angst to fluff fic with the following tropes: slightly sunshine and super sunshine, who did this to you, etc)
words: ~1.4k
warnings: angst, brief descriptions of violence, ethan being overly concerned for reader, but not much else asides from that
a/n: first ethan fic (requested by a lovely anon, thank you!!) and second mission impossible fic! btw, this fic is kind of an AU? i don't have a specific timeline for when it happens, so you can squeeze it in wherever :)
“Y/N, status update?”
“Northwest exit, 430 meters. I have one on my tail. But you know I’m Usain Bolt 2.0! I can definitely outrun this doofus, I mean, I bet my mile time is way better than his. I could've gone to the Olympics, for God’s sake. The Olympics! Where are you?”
“Stay there, I’ll come find you.”
“Ethan, wait, you can't just tell me to—“ You don’t even get to finish before a an explosive sound echoes across the narrow alleyway. You make a sharp left turn but find that you’d just hit a dead end. The door was locked. Shit. You only had one bullet left and there was a guy who was definitely at least twice your weight—and over a foot taller, too—coming after you. You wouldn't even have enough time to reload.
“Y/N. Y/N—“
You don’t get to hear the rest of what he’s saying before the static fizzes out and you lose connection.
“Hey there!” You give the beefy man who’s now mere meters away from you a cheerful smile. “Lovely weather today, don’t you think? Too bad it’s going to rain tomorrow. I love the rain but I hate lightning, because I almost got struck a year ago.”
He doesn't look too happy at this, whipping his gun out without a moment’s hesitation. You squeeze your eyes shut and pray as you slide the bullet in and he pins you against the wall by your neck.
He brings the gun to your head, and your weapon clatters to the ground. You curse under your breath. You can feel your airways constricting and there's a searing pain working its way through you.
“You're not going anywhere, princess.”
There's a split-second; a microsecond in which he pauses. Very briefly. You don't think, just do—you knee him in the groin, hard, and quickly grab the knife that's sheathed in your boot.
Saying one last prayer, you plunge the blade in, not even looking to see if you'd aimed right. He falls to the floor, stumbling, and you then lunge forward to disarm him.
Another deafening gunshot rings out just as Ethan rounds the corner and finds you there, standing over the man’s dead body like the angel of death. A pool of blood surrounds your feet, and he doesn't think he wants to know if that's yours or his.
“You made it out alive. Good job out there.”
Glancing over at him, you nod, but don't say anything. You toss him the data files without another word, and board the plane.
“I'm proud of you.”
More strained silence. Huh, weird… he thinks.
“Y/N, are you alright?”
No response. Ethan repeats himself again, “Are you alright? Did something happen?”
You strap yourself into your seat and tilt your head back, digging your nails into your wrist. Anything was better than being awake right now…
“Well, someone's uncharacteristically quiet.”
Still no response. Not even a snarky quip like you'd typically reply with. No nicknames, no bickering, no random fun fact you googled on the way over here. “Did you know that a pig can digest an entire human body, bones and all? That makes me think a little extra every time we pass through the European countryside and see one of them.”
All he gets is silence from your end, and it starts to worry him.
That’s when he follows your gaze downwards. You're clutching the left side of your abdomen, trying your best not to make a sound.
His blood runs cold and his eyes darken. You can feel the pure rage radiating off him.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No…shit…Sherlock…” you croak out.
“You're hurt.”
No response again.
“Y/N, what the hell happened out there and who did this to you?”
More silence.
“Y/N, what did he do to you? How did he hurt you?”
After several more questions and several more failed replies, he forcefully moves your hand aside. Your shirt is stained a deep red and there's a gaping hole much bigger than Ethan wanted to see.
“You got shot.” He sighs. “Luther, how much longer?”
“Hour and five, but we can get there in 38.”
“Hurry.”
“On it.”
Ilsa brings him a thick roll of bandages. He tries to be as careful as possible as he disinfects and wraps up your torso, but every so often, you wince in pain.
“I'm sorry, sweetheart, just a few more minutes,” Ethan hurriedly apologizes. “Hang in there for me, okay?”
Once he's done, he sits down next to you and laces your fingers together, giving your hand a squeeze. You let out a shuddering sigh and slumped against him.
He pretends not to notice your watering eyes, or the crescent-shaped marks in your wrist. Or the way your left foot nervously taps out the rhythm to yours and his favorite song. Or the way your tears leave faint red tracks behind as they slip down your cheeks.
“I'm so sorry,” he repeats over and over again, “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.”
You don't sleep a wink that night. On any other day in Paris, you'd walk down to the farmer’s market below. You’d pick out Ethan’s favorite fruit and a new beret to have him wear jokingly, and maybe grab a croissant or two. Then you’d drag him along to the Louvre and point out each painting one by one and explain in great detail why you loved them so much. And he’d listen, because he could live purely off the sound of your voice for the rest of his life. He was never one for museums, but you loved them, and because he loved you, he started to love them, too.
But it's dark out, and after what had just happened the other day, you don't feel safe enough to leave the apartment. You tossed and turned for over half an hour before falling asleep, but jolted awake just a few minutes later, shivering violently. There was no way you were going to try and go to sleep again.
Ethan stirs awake, rubbing his eyes to see a dark figure slipping out the door.
He's quick to follow you up the staircase and to the rooftop. You're standing there in just a T-shirt (was that his?) and shorts, and it's freezing cold out, but you're sweating and fanning yourself.
“Y/N?”
You turn around at the sound of his voice. “Ethan…”
“What are you doing up here? I was worried about you.” He makes his way over to you and puts a hand on your shoulder, obvious concern on his face.
You bit your lip and started digging your nails into your wrist again.
“Talk to me, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Tell me what's wrong.”
You shook your head, feeling the skin of your wrist beginning to sting.
“Y/N, please. I want to help you. But I can’t do that when you won't talk to me, so please…tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m so tired, Ethan,” you finally spoke after a long pause, voice hoarse. “I should’ve—I shouldn’t be here right now, I should be dead because I panicked and I…I almost died. The man, he put the gun to my head and I saw my entire life flash before my eyes. I could’ve sworn to God that the whole ‘thing’ about you seeing your life flash by like a film reel was just a myth but it wasn’t. It scared the shit out of me because I kept seeing the same thing over and over. I thought…”
“What did you see?” he asked, voice gentle.
“I kept seeing your face. All I saw was your face.” You looked away, suddenly unable to make eye contact with him. Heat spreads across your cheeks. “I know I care about the whole damn team, but you—you’re my future, Ethan.”
He doesn’t say anything in response and instead, leans down to kiss you.
The sudden rush of warmth from his lips being pressed against yours makes you want to forget everything in the world and completely drown in him. This was home, you realized, and this is where I’m supposed to be.
And as the sun rises and spreads a brilliant pale glow over the horizon, Ethan can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was also exactly where he was meant to be. Not fighting bad guys, but rather, standing on the rooftop of a tiny building in the 4th arrondissement with you in his arms and your head against his heart. He thinks he could have a lifetime of this.
“You’re my future, too.”
tags (including those who may be interested! add yourself via this form, if you’d like): @mitchellpete @voguesir @fl0ating @lady-elena-adeline @the-multiverse-of-fandoms @ilsastrenchcoat @joyfullyswimmingface
#mission impossible#mission impossible fic#ethan hunt#tom cruise#ethan hunt x reader#ethan hunt x you#ethan hunt fic#ethan hunt imagine#mission impossible fanfic#mission impossible: rogue nation#mission impossible: fallout#mission impossible: dead reckoning#dead reckoning part one
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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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Masterlist 2:
Full Fanfic Masterlist
--
Marvel:
How Peter Parker and Steve Rogers react to their crush asking to play with their hair
Hobie Brown helping trans!male!Reader with dysphoria
Hobie Brown reminding ftm!Reader not to overbind
Hobie Brown turning into a cat and causing chaos in the SpiderSociety
How Miles Morales acts on a rooftop date with another hero
Miles Morales reacting to grieving reader
Miles Morales being caught wearing his guy crushes hoodie
Miles Morales reacting to his crush suddenly asking him out in the middle of a normal conversation
Miles Morales with a younger!sister!reader
Platonic!Miguel O'Hara comforting transmale reader after a breakdown
Miguel O'Hara reacting to reader coming out as trans (ftm)
Miles Morales and Hobie Brown (separate) reacting to male!Reader with brain issues
Miles Morales and Hobie Brown (separate) reacting to male!Reader getting a good grade on an exam
Pavitr Prabhakar and german!male!Reader bonding by learning about each other's cultures
SpiderTeens reacting to gn reader adopting them all
Stranger Things:
Nothing yet!
The Umbrella Academy:
Nothing yet!
Criminal Minds:
Nothing yet!
Hitman Trilogy:
Nothing yet!
Mission: Impossible:
Nothing yet!
FarCry 5:
Nothing yet!
Valorant:
Nothing yet!
Detroit Become Human:
Connor helping male!trans!reader with testosterone shots
Connor helping gn!Reader calm down from a panic attack
Connor with a s/o who's a maladaptive daydreamer
Connor with an insomniac s/o
Connor with a s/o who's a wild/active sleeper
Our Life Beginnings & Always:
Nothing yet!
Error 143:
Nothing yet!
Sally Face:
Nothing yet!
WatchDogs Trilogy:
Nothing yet!
COD: Modern Warfare2:
John Price dealing with being a sleep talker
Konig reacting to short!male!Reader climbing him like a tree to see something
Konig reacting to short!male!Reader being on his shoulders^^Part 2
Ghost, Konig, and Price (separate) reacting to male!Reader with dermatillomania
Ghost and Konig (separate) reacting to having to cuddle up to male!Reader for warmth
Ghost and Konig waking up to cuddling male!Reader ^^Part 2
Ghost and Konig (separate) having M!Reader be their gay awakening
The Imperfects:
Nothing yet!
Encanto:
Nothing yet!
Girl From Nowhere:
Nothing yet!
Metal Lords:
Nothing yet!
Dc Universe:
Batfam being jealous of the readers pet/animal
Batboys reacting to Tim Drake's "bad-boy" boyfriend
Taking care of Batboys (seperately) after they got their wisdom
teeth removed
Batboys reacting to boyfriend!Reader smacking their ass and running away
Batboys + Conner & Wally being caught wearing masc!Readers hoodie
Batfam reacting to Tim Drakes boyfriend who is the Jokers son
^^Batfam reacting to Tim Drakes boyfriend who is the Jokers son pt2^^
Batboys reacting to getting hard during training with M!Reader
Anthro!Batboys having their ears and tail expose their romantic feelings for male!reader
Batfam reacting to Tim Drake making a contract with a demon!male!reader
Sugar Daddy!Bruce Wayne accidentally falling for male!sugar-baby!reader
Bruce Wayne with an energetic anti-hero husband
Conner Kent accidentally using X-ray vision on trans!male reader
Male!Justice League members reacting to rogue!reader moving out of Gotham and into their city
Jason Todd reacting to male reader falling asleep on him
Jason Todd reacting to a gn reader who can't swim
Injured!Jason Todd waking up to Reader in his hospital room
Damian Wayne with a child!brother!Reader
Damian Wayne being caught wearing his guy crushes hoodie
Dick Grayson reacting to a very cuddly male reader
Dick Grayson waking up his cuddly guy crush
Dick Grayson reacting to a sad!male!Reader needing cuddles
Hal Jordan's (Green Lantern) reaction to reader having a lot of lantern rings
Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) x recovering!male!Readers
Hal Jordan reacting to being bitten by masc!alien!Reader
John Constantine reacting to a food-pusher Reader
John Constantine with a werewolf s/o (gn reader)
Hungover!John Constantine waking up in a caring Readers bed
John Constantine reacting to a male!Reader that reminds him of his younger self
^part 2. John Constantine reacting to similar!male!Reader reading his soul
John Constantine being bullied by a cat in a pub
John Constantine reacting to a Reader that smokes
John Constantine having a demon!Reader be attached to him
John Constantine reacting to reader being turned into a baby
John Constantine reacting to male!Rader lighting his cigarette with John's
Kid Flash (Wally West) reacting to accidentally courting alien!reader
Kid Flash (Wally West) with a night owl boyfriend
Kid Flash (Wally West) accidentally petting one of winged!male!Readers arousal zones
Kid Flash (Wally West) and winged!male!Reader finally getting together
Kid Flash (Wally West) cudding male!naga!Reader
Kid Flash (Wally West) with a partner who's part of the BatFamily
Tim Drake reacting to guy crush reader accidentally cuddling him
Tim Drake reacting to Rogue!Reader flustering him
Tim Drake with a caring and patient boyfriend
Tim Drake with a boyfriend who's very physically affectionate
How Superman, Batman, Hal Jordan, The Flash, and John Constantine react to someone handing them the unconscious reader out of the blue
How Batman and Superman reacting to their long-term partner being their worst enemy
How Wally West, John Constantine, Hal Jordan, Dick Grayson, and Conner Kent react to falling asleep on their crush (male reader)
How Wally West, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and Conner Kent taking care of their drunk guy crush
How Dick Grayson, Wally West, Tim Drake and Conner Kent react to playing seven minutes in heaven with their guy crush
How Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, and John Constantine react to their crush asking to play with their hair
How Tim Drake and Damian Wayne react to their crush randomly asking them out in the middle of a conversation (seperate)
How Justice League boys react to empathic color!alien reader turning pink around them
How Justice League boys react to male!Reader being turned into a cat
How the Young Justice League reacts to a male!Reader with an Eating Disorder
—
Back to directory;
#prismuffin#prisask#prismaster#prislist#marvel#stranger things#the umbrella academy#criminal minds#hitman trilogy#mission impossible#farcry 5#valorant#detroit become human#our life beginnings & always#error 143#sally face#watchdogs fanfic#cod mw2#the imperfects#encanto#girl from nowehre#metal lords#dc universe
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Kinktober Day 24 - Bondage
pairing: ethan hunt x f!reader
cw: bondage, oral sex (m receiving), overstimulation, penetrative sex, (does this count as creampie?)
word count: 2178
A/N: had to take a little hiatus but i came back to a million notifications so i’m glad to see that you guys are still reading these! sorry for the wait!
kinktober masterlist here.
18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI
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“Do you know how easily I could get out of these?”
You groan just as a grin decorates Ethan’s face, a sparkle in his eye as he looks up at you from his place on the bed. You playfully roll your eyes, continuing your (poor) work on the knots binding his wrists. Ethan just plays along, humming to himself as he waits for you to finish. Quite impatiently, actually, with his hard-on prodding at the harsh material of his pants where you’d mouthed over the fabric. He wasn’t going to admit that, though, as this whole thing had been his idea the last time you’d had sex. A while ago now, since his duties usually kept you apart for weeks at a time. It was very unbearable, but the sex was worth the wait. It only ever got better, more exciting, more fun.
“Get on top, come on,” he’d mumbled in a frivolous tone, his breath warm against your neck, hands hot against your skin.
“Oh, you want me in control?” You’d teased back, wriggling out from underneath him to comply at his request.
Ethan laid back, hands intertwined behind his head as you mounted his hips. “Mm, I do.”
You’d snickered, poking fun at him, your hands running up his chest. “Maybe I’ll tie you up next time.”
Ethan groaned as you settled on top of him, your fingernails raking his pecs. “I’d let you.”
And let you, he did. You’re not even sure where the rope came from; it was already on the bedside table when you both tumbled into the room together in a heap of passion, lips locked and hands exploring each other hungrily. You’d gotten Ethan’s shirt off, your knees bending to lean down and mouth at his chest, down his sternum, tongue poking out against his abs. Ethan sucked in a breath, watched as your tongue traveled all along his waistline. On your haunches, you ran your hands up his clothed thighs, teasing him—giving him that little tingling feeling he always gave you when his touch teased at your inner thighs. He shuddered in response, and even more so when you leaned in to press your open mouth to the growing bulge in his pants.
That didn’t get very far, however, and you watched in amusement as Ethan’s face went from slack to surprised when your hands shoved at his body, sending him towards the mattress. The back of his knees hit the edge of the bed and down he went, his forearms breaking his fall. He held himself up on them, a grin spreading his face as you stalked towards him in the sexiest way you could.
Anyway, that was then.
Now, you’ve got the knot secured. You’re pretty sure you did a terrible job, but despite his teasing, you know that he’s gonna let you have this.
“All done,” you announce proudly, running your fingers along his bicep.
You glance down at the sight of his widening smile, and lean down to help yourself to a wet kiss on his lips. Ethan kisses back eagerly, mouth hot and heavy against yours. He makes a little noise when you break apart, lifting his head to follow your lips until they’re out of his reach. He chuckles and closes his eyes, letting his head fall back in defeat, only to lift it again when he feels your hands working the button on his pants. You settle in between his legs, and, once the button is off, grab at the waistband of his pants to rid him of them. Ethan’s cock is poking through his boxers, and your mouth nearly waters at the thought of blowing him like this. You try taking your time though—try to make the experience worth it—and press feather light kisses all over the soft fabric. Ethan flinches, hips slightly jerking up for more.
“Easy there, Mr. Hunt,” you murmur, lips lightly sucking at the head of his cock through the material.
“I don’t think we mentioned any teasing.” He breathes out, licks his bottom lip and then bites down, hard.
“You can handle it,” you say through a grin, raking your fingers along the skin of his thighs again.
You strip him off his boxers eventually, pulling them down his legs and out of the way. You salivate at the sight of him, bare and flushed and tied up just for you. He’s fully hard against his stomach, nearly leaking at the brief feel of your lips.
He notices you staring. “A bit overdressed, honey.”
You huff, trying not to smile, though you fail almost instantly. You back up and take your time slipping out of your clothes, intent on giving him a show. Ethan watches with hazy eyes, mouth slightly parted. He looks you up and down, takes in the sight of every part of you that he won’t be able to touch tonight. You watch the look cross his face and can’t help but giggle. “Hey, it was your idea.”
“I’m gonna get out of these,” he states matter-of-factly, tilting his head with a little smirk.
“Mm, I don’t think so,” you counter, stretching your legs out to slip out of your underwear. “You break free, this all stops.”
He scoffs playfully, his eyes hungrily raking your body. “I didn’t think you’d be so strict.”
With all your clothes on the floor, you crawl closer and reach to wrap a hand around his cock. You don’t break eye contact as you squeeze him a bit, thumb rubbing circles at the tip. You tease him there, moving your thumb all over the head, getting small, breathy groans out of him. You lean in momentarily to press a kiss there, and his abs clench in reaction, his wrists wriggling in the rope. You bite back a smirk, satisfied already.
Ethan’s lashes flutter when you finally get the wet heat of your mouth on his shaft. You angle your head, dragging the flat of your tongue along the long vein that runs on the side. He shudders, letting his head fall back every few seconds and then lifting it again to watch you. You never once break eye contact, your tongue dragging up and down his length in rhythmic strides. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, fingers tapping on the headboard—the only thing his grip can reach.
You pull off his cock with a loud slurping noise, fist tightly jerking him up and down where you’d left him extra lubricated. His abs tense again, much to your pleasure, and his hips twitch with every move of your fist. Watching him lose his composure, you take advantage; you lean down to wrap your mouth around the head, taking him in inch by inch while continuously stroking him down below. Ethan groans, loud, throwing his head back. The muscles in his arms visibly clench from his grip on the rope and it’s then that you feel the absence of his hands in your hair, how delicately he runs his fingers through it every time you blow him.
The sight of him so restricted is very worth it though: face flushed, his cock red and dripping wet and deliciously hard in your mouth, miles of his pretty tan skin from your spot in between his legs. You watch his muscles tense, how his chin meets the heave of his chest every time he lifts his head again to watch you, eyes half-lidded and mouth hanging open in a silent moan.
Your throat constricts at the intrusion the deeper you take him in, and you hollow your cheeks around him with every up and down movement. Your palm is slick and messy around him, spit dripping onto your knuckles from your mouth’s work, which only helps you stroke him faster.
You know he’s close from the small, repetitive sounds he’s making and, eager to get him there, release him from your mouth to stroke him furiously. It only lasts a couple of seconds, and you bite back a moan of your own at the sight of him spilling his cum all along his abs.
“Fuck,” he groans, eyebrows pulled tight as his orgasm washes over him.
“Doing alright, Agent?” you murmur, thumb rubbing small, gentle circles around his throbbing length.
“So unfair,” he breathes out, wrapping his fingers around the rope binding him. His hips jerk again, this time from being slightly overstimulated by your touch.
You crawl on all fours above his body, reaching his mouth to kiss him. He leans up, eager again, his tongue slipping into your slick mouth. You let him lick into you, palms flat on either side of him, the heat of the kiss agitating the growing fire in the pit of your stomach. The desire for him coaxes your hips down, your wet, slick center meeting that same vein on Ethan’s shaft. You moan into his mouth, unable to resist grinding down, which gets a noise out of him too. You rock with him there, just a little, just to get him fully hard again. You remember you’re supposed to be taking your time but God, it already feels so good.
When his cock jerks up against you, hard and throbbing again, you pull off of his mouth; Ethan watches as you mount his hips, hovering above his dick to position it inside of you. You press your palms to his abs as you sink down, the split delicious and raw. You wipe at the cum on his skin, bringing it to your tongue—the whole show for him. You moan around your finger when you easily sink down all the way, and then run your slippery hands down your body to tease him. Situated against his balls, you clench around him, but you don’t move yet—you caress your collarbone first, and then your hands travel lower, palms rubbing over your hardened nipples. Ethan watches you in disbelief, yanking on both sides of the rope with serious force—it moves the both of you, a wave of pleasure washing over you. It’s that wave alone that gets you going; you realize you can’t hold off forever and that it doesn’t really matter how much you tease him because now you need it as much as he does.
You move your hips in small circles to start, and then start to move up and down—the small burn in your legs reminds you that Ethan’s arms being binded means that he can’t wrap them around you to help you, that you’ve gotta do all the work yourself this time.
You start off slow, watching his face contort in pleasure as you pick up your pace. He continues yanking on the rope, even more so when you find a comfortable pace. You bounce against him, harsh, skin slapping noises meeting both of your moans. The position allows him in as deep as can be, the head of his cock meeting that delicious ache inside of you more and more with each passing second. After an agonizing minute, you decide to lean back, your palms flat behind you for leverage. He notices your shift, and his hips start jolting off the bed, messing up the pace quite a bit but it gives you a good break—he’s fucking into you eventually, hard and fast despite the absence of his arms. You bite back a giggle; he’s always had a good core. And fuck—his interception is almost enough to push you over the edge already—
No, no. Just a little more. He’s moaning like he was right before he came, and you decide to coax him into it with your words.
“Come on, baby, don’t you wanna touch me?” you ask, breathy and light.
He moans and it sounds something like a whine, his hips sputtering and losing their pace as he nears his second orgasm. Still sensitive from his first.
It all gets to be a bit too much when you start slamming your hips down to meet his thrusts, his cock feeling even deeper somehow—and that’s enough to set him over the edge. It’s not until you feel his hot spurts of cum inside you, and hear the sticky, wet noises of his thrusts fucking it deep inside you that your orgasm washes over you too.
You nearly scream as it takes you, body going slack from the pleasure.
Ethan’s face is flushed pink, his cheeks warm from a second orgasm. A pretty sight, paired with the soft moans spilling from his mouth.
You climb off of him with shaky legs, body buzzing in the afterglow. You collapse on the mattress next to him, sight set on the ceiling as you try catching your breath.
“Give me.. Give me a second, baby, I’ll untie you.”
Ethan doesn’t reply, but you listen as his moans quiet down, and how his equally uneven breathing starts to slow.
When you sit up and turn to reach for the rope, Ethan’s already out of its grip, a cute smile spreading his cheeks and an innocent glint in his eye as he rubs at his wrist.
#one of my favs!#ethan hunt#ethan hunt x reader#kinktober 2023#mission: impossible#mission: impossible fic#mission: impossible fanfic#*#tom cruise x reader
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ILSAETHAN + textposts (pt. 3)
pt. 1 / pt. 2 / pt. 4 / pt. 5
edit i just realized i did two of the same photo LMAOOOO
#mission impossible#ilsa x ethan#ethan x ilsa#ilsaethan#ethan hunt#ilsa faust#mission: impossible#mission impossible fanfic#mission impossible rogue nation#mi5#mi6#moon’s mi textposts#100 notes
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Daddy Knows Best, Part II
Title: Daddy Knows Best, Part II
Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI
Pairing: StepDad!August Walker x StepDaughter!Reader
Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Fallout
Word Count: 2.6K
Summary: August Walker and your father were once friends. One mission, a single decision, made them enemies. August decides he needs to get his revenge. And what better way, than to become your new Daddy?
Chapter Summary: Daddy and Babydoll take a giant leap.
Warnings: age gap (the reader is 18, August is in his late-30s), pet names (Princess, Babydoll), Daddy kink, corruption kink, praise kink, somnophilia, pregnancy kink, dacryphilia, lactation kink, cockwarming, (slight) choking, deflowering, non-con, unprotected p-in-v sex, cum swallowing, Murder Daddy™️ vibes, dead dove: do not eat
A/N: This is different from my usual fics. This would be considered dark!fic in every way possible. If you read the warnings and still choose to read, you are making your own decision. No one is forcing you to read this. This is an entirely self-indulgent therapeutic fic. Enjoy! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.
Dividers by: @saradika
Support/Reblog banner by me
Spotify Playlist is here.
Series Masterlist
My Masterlist
I am such a lucky man.
Any man in my situation might do the right thing. But when has that ever gotten anyone what they really wanted?
Looking at a perfect flower from afar is just fine, don’t get me wrong. You bend over, you smell it, you leave it to bloom. But plucking that flower and holding it in your hand? Now that is a truly heavenly feeling.
That’s what it was like with my little Babydoll.
It was a cautious dance. I had to earn her trust. She was Daddy’s little girl, after all. She had her loyalties and she did not like me at first. She didn’t explicitly say it but she missed her father. Who could blame her?
But she was so perfect. And I wanted her. She had to be mine.
And so she would be.
It started with little things. I made sure to get the snacks that she coveted. I called her Princess. I smiled at her and always listened intently to whatever stupid topic she wanted to talk about. She would get so excited to talk to someone who would listen.
I got the feeling her mother wasn’t exactly her favorite person. She was much closer with her Nanny. I was shocked to find out that she still had a caregiver at her age, but one look at their relationship and it made so much sense. I convinced her mother that she wouldn’t need a Nanny any longer and that I would be taking over watching after her.
Her sheltered upbringing kept her so innocent in so many ways. It was like her parents fucking gift-wrapped her for me to corrupt. And with Nanny out of the way, I had her all to myself with no prying eyes.
That day she got the sunburn was a godsend. I watched as she slept in the backyard, the sun illuminating her olive skin. I could have easily gone to wake her up, but I wanted her to need me. I wanted her to call for me.
And soon enough, I hear her voice shout my name. It was burned in my brain.
As I rubbed the aloe on her warm skin, I knew I wanted to be her Daddy. She needed an authority figure to take care of her, and I took on that role. Since her mother was off in her own world, it would afford me the ability to become her everything.
The way to her heart was care. I told her I would never hurt her, and proceeded to spank her plump little ass. She forgave me afterward, of course. When I wiped her tears and tasted them? Fuck, I didn’t think my dick could get any harder.
And when she didn’t know what to call her perfect little pussy? Fuck! I’ve replayed that moment in my head so many times. I’ll admit, calling it her ‘princess parts’ was entirely self-indulgent. Knowing she was never touched only made me want to forget the plan and fuck her right then.
But there was a time for everything. I settled for eating her delicious pussy. Her sweet face contorting and enjoying my tongue had me hard as a rock. Seeing her cum for the first time was a sight to behold. Fingering her tightness had me wanting to test the elasticity of that wet fuckhole.
Damnit, she was perfect.
When I heard her moan for Daddy and knew she meant me, my soul left my body for a moment. It came back so I could take care of her and have the mental image of her in my clothing. She looked so cute and, at the same time, she looked fuckable.
It actually hurt my dick to look at her in my clothes. I had to have her. I couldn’t wait anymore. I needed her and I refused to let this opportunity slip past me. Her mother wasn’t due to be home for hours.
While she slept, I let my hands explore.
Her soft tummy under my calloused hand gave me ideas. What if it was swollen and round with my child? Far too soon to even be thinking about that, she hasn’t even seen my dick yet and I’m already thinking about knocking her up.
I turned her on her back and pulled my shirt up over her tits. Perfect handfuls for me, with areolas that harden at my touch. The way they tightened as I circled them with a finger was almost too much for me. I felt my dick swell as I thought about them bloated with milk. I took one pebbled nipple into my mouth and imagined that she coated my tongue with sweet nectar. When I switched to the other nipple, she stirred in her sleep. I pulled off of her breast and looked down at her peaceful form.
The irony of the urge to impregnate this virgin wasn’t lost on me. I wouldn’t put it past my subconscious to think it could create the next Messiah. I do tend to be a bit ‘larger than life’ at times. I mean, who else but a true sociopath would dream of corrupting an innocent soul?
Fuck it. Call me a sociopath. I won’t lose sleep over it. I’ll be too busy molding her pussy to the shape of my dick.
The first step to doing that was getting my dick inside her. I freed her of my underwear and opened her legs. Placing my palm over her cunt, I could feel the heat that radiated from it. I loved the little tuft of hair on her mound. I preferred it fuzzy anyway.
I slid my fingers down and felt the wetness that escaped her lips. I coated my fingers in her juices and didn’t hesitate to put them into my mouth. She was so fucking tasty. I was addicted to the taste of her and there was no going back.
As if I wanted to go back after today.
You awoke to the feeling of rubbing on your princess parts. You had tried to stay asleep but you realized you aren’t wearing Daddy’s underwear anymore. You opened your eyes and looked up to see Daddy smiling down at you.
“Babydoll, you were so pretty while you slept. Daddy couldn’t help himself and had to touch you again.”
You wiggled your little hips, trying to get as much friction on your clitty as possible. You bit your bottom lip and tossed your head to the side in pleasure. Your sweet moans were music to Daddy’s ears if the plastered smile on his face was anything to go by.
“Daddy has a special treat for you, Babydoll,” Daddy pulled his hand away and you whined at the loss of contact. You watched as Daddy kneeled in front of you and unzipped his pants. He pulled a bottle out of his pocket that had a purple label on it and tossed it to the bed. “Daddy wants you to take his dick out.” He pulled you to a sitting position and guided your hand inside his pants.
When you had made contact with soft skin, you wrapped your fingers around its hardness. You pulled it out and the groan that Daddy made went right to your core. You couldn’t fit one hand around it so you used both of them to hold it.
Daddy’s large hand covered both of yours and moved them up and down. The silky smooth skin moved through your fingers and Daddy picked up the bottle and uncapped it. He poured some of the liquid over your hands and told you to spread it around. You smiled up at him as your hands became slippery and Daddy’s moans became louder.
“Lay back, Babydoll. Daddy is gonna touch your princess parts with his dick. It’s gonna hurt at first, but Daddy will try and be gentle.” Daddy put one of your legs over his arm as he leaned over you. He poured some of the liquid on you and you shivered as the cold liquid slid over your sensitive clitty and traveled downward, “Take a deep breath and then let it out, Princess.”
You breathed in and held it. When you let it out, Daddy tore through you with his dick. The stretch burned and you started to cry.
“Daddy, it hurts!” You hiccupped as fat tears rolled down your face.
“Fuck, Babydoll. You know I love it when you cry for me. It’s gonna stop hurting soon. Just…fuck, your tight little cunny is holding my dick so tight and keeping it warm,” He wraps your legs around his waist and holds your head in his hands. He looked down at you and kissed your tears away, “Daddy’s gonna start moving now. You feel so good, better than I thought you would feel. I want you to tell me to fuck you, Babydoll.”
You looked up at Daddy and sniffled. “Please fuck me, Daddy. Make it stop hurting, please?”
You felt him twitch inside you as he growled low in his throat. He pulled out slowly then slammed back in. Your body jerked with the speed of his hips against yours. The sounds of wet slapping filled your ears, mixed with Daddy’s grunts and your yelps.
He whispered in your ear while he impaled you over and over, “Babydoll, fuck! You are making Daddy so happy. Taking my dick so well. You’re being such a good girl for me. Such…a…good…girl!” He punctuated his words with thrusts into your tight heat.
Soon, the pain slowly dissipated and you were left overwhelmed with the feeling of fullness. An involuntary moan escaped your lips and Daddy chuckled. His hand moved down to play with your clitty and it was all over for you. Within moments, you were clenching around him and crying again from the heightened intensity.
“Yes, come all over my dick. You’re my good little fucktoy, aren’t you? Say it, Babydoll.”
“I’m Daddy’s good little fucktoy.”
“Keep saying it, Babydoll. I’m so fucking close. Just keep saying it.” The hand that was on your clitty had moved to your neck. The slightest hint of pressure kept you still while he continued his onslaught.
“I’m Daddy’s good little fucktoy. I’m Daddy’s good little fucktoy. I’m Daddy’s good little fucktoy.” You repeated the mantra and watched as Daddy’s face contorted and he let out a slew of bad words.
“Fuck, Babydoll. Daddy’s gonna fucking cum. Shit, shit, shit!” Daddy pulled out and stroked himself once, twice. On the third stroke, thick white ropes shot out of him and onto your belly. It just kept coming and you watched in awe. Daddy looked to be in pain but he kept stroking until all that came out was a few drops. He looked exhausted, so when he collapsed next to you, you weren’t surprised.
“Daddy?” You ran a finger through the sticky fluid and touched your first finger to your thumb to see the elasticity of it.
“That’s my cum, Babydoll. You were such a good girl and I wanted to give you a special treat. Open your mouth, baby,” You opened your mouth and Daddy scoops up some of his cum and puts it on your tongue. You swirled the salty substance on your tongue before swallowing. “That’s my good girl, swallowing Daddy’s cum like a perfect Princess. Can Daddy have a kiss?”
“On the lips?” You’ve never been kissed before and suddenly you were nervous.
“Yes, Babydoll. Daddy promises he doesn’t care if you haven’t kissed anyone before. Daddy needs to taste you. Just stay still, and Daddy will show you, ok?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Your breathing picked up as Daddy leaned into you and put his mouth over yours. He exhaled through his nose and his mustache tickled you. He held the back of your head while he kissed you. His tongue pressed against the seam of your lips and you opened your mouth to let him in. When Daddy’s tongue massaged your own, you brought a hand up to get lost in Daddy’s curly mane. You swallowed the groan that rumbled through him.
Daddy broke the kiss and set his forehead against yours. He looked blissful and tired and all you wanted to do was keep kissing him. You moved your head to kiss him again and he nibbled at your bottom lip before peppering you with kisses all over your face. You giggled and playfully pushed him away so you could stretch and sit crosslegged.
He sat up and got out of the bed. He walked around it and crouched down to speak to you at your eye level. He took your hands and made you look at him. With a serious look on his face, he spoke.
“Babydoll, I want you to promise me that only Daddy gets to kiss you and only Daddy gets to put his dick in you. You don’t let other boys touch your princess parts. If a boy ever does that, you tell me and I’ll take care of it, ok?”
“Take care of it?” What did that mean?
“Nobody gets to touch my Babydoll without Daddy’s explicit permission. Am I understood?” Daddy looked like he had a fire in his eyes. Daddy wanted to protect you. And he might do anything to keep you safe.
“Only Daddy gets to touch me. I understand, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Now, why don’t you go take a shower and Daddy will go start on dinner. I have your favorite for dessert tonight.” His bright smile was infectious and spread to your lips.
“You got the cannolis I like?” You couldn’t contain your excitement and squealed.
“Yes, I got the cannolis. Anything for my Babydoll. But you have to be a good girl all night if you want them. That means you keep what you and Daddy do all to yourself, ok Princess?”
“Yes, Daddy. I can keep a secret. I promise.”
Daddy’s smile widened and he pulled you up out of bed. He kissed your forehead, and your nose, and pecked your lips before he shooed you off to the bathroom to wash up.
You didn’t know it, but he watched your every step until you were out of sight.
As you showered, you thought about the cannolis and Daddy’s kisses. When you washed your princess parts, you felt that tingle like when Daddy touched you. You wanted to play more, but you were still sore so you finished washing up and got out of the shower.
After getting dressed, you went down to the kitchen and watched as Daddy made dinner. When Mommy came home, you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous when Daddy kissed her. Daddy noticed your pout and kissed the top of your head and let you taste test the bolognese sauce.
Dinner went by smoothly, Mommy and Daddy talked about whatever while you spaced out. But when Daddy brought out the cannolis, you were back to your jovial self. You ate your cannoli and excused yourself from the table.
With a full belly of dinner and dessert, you retreated to your room. The musky scent of sex was all over your sheets and you reveled in it. You replayed the events of the day in your mind and you ached to have Daddy next to you again. He awoke something inside of you that only he had access to.
After today, everything changed. He wasn’t August anymore, he was Daddy. And you were his Princess, his Babydoll. Your hand gravitated to your princess parts again and the thought of Daddy’s hands all over you had you soaking your hand in moments. Tasting yourself again, you imagined it was Daddy’s cum and that he was pleased with you.
You drifted off to sleep shortly thereafter, the promise of more to come heavy on your head.
Part III
A/N: Ok, I think I still have more to write. But, do y’all want more?
**Tag List**
@raccoon-eyed-rebel @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @mrs-solo-walker [Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁]
#henry cavill#henry cavill characters#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill fanfic#august walker#august walker fanfiction#august walker smut#august walker fanfic#august walker x reader#ellethespaceunicorn fanfic#mission: impossible fallout#mission impossible: fallout#mission: impossible fallout#mission impossible fallout#mission impossible#august walker x ofc#august walker x you#stepdad!august walker#stepdad august walker#dead dove do not eat#dead dove fic#tw stepcest#stepdad#stepdaughter#dark!august walker#dark august walker#dark! fic#dark fic#dark!fic
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Dangle the Carrot
Prompt: Smug and Sadistic, Virginity from @munstysmind (x) Thank you!
Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader
Word Count: Approx. 3.5k
Warnings: Smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT/ NON CONSENT, RELUCTANT READER, Coercion, p in v sex, fingering, discussion of body fluids, possessive August.
Authors Note: As always I need to thank my amazing mates and readers @nashibirne , and @henryobsessed your thoughtful and honest comments are always appreciated.
I had every intention of following the prompt, but as I wrote this is what came out. Walker is definitely smug, but probably not as sadistic as you would think. I hope you enjoy it.
Edited by me, there will be errors
Dividers by me.
Masterlist
Celebration Masterlist
You’re sitting in the safe house sipping on your morning coffee, dressed in a simple knee length summer dress that is fashionable in the local area, going over new intelligence on your latest asset.
You’re going to have to meet him again, he is holding back information, you’re sure of it. The chatter had been building to a crescendo, someone is planning something and you’re sure the asset knows more than he’s letting on.
The assets' pale balding head peers back at you from the photograph that had been taken of him way back before you started to build a relationship with him. He creeps you out, well over 20 years older than you, he looks at you like he’s undressing you every time you meet. You feel like he strings you along with little tidbits just to keep you coming back and you’re starting to think he’s a dead end.
“Staring at his picture won’t make him talk.”
You jump, startled by Special Agent Walker's appearance. Dressed as he always is in a plain muted suit, he has a mug of coffee (you assume) in his hand and he sits next to you, plucking the file from your hands and opening it on the dining table in front of you.
“Any suggestions?” you ask.
“Possibly,” Walker says, the corner of his whiskered mouth lifting with a knowing smirk.
You purse your lips. Walker always looks like he knows something you don’t, you’re about to ask him what it is when he continues.
“I’ve been told to hurry you along. Langley believes he has information about a high value target and our window of opportunity is closing swiftly.”
Huffing with disgust you say, “I’ve done everything I can besides take my clothes off to get him to give up more information than we already know. I think he knows nothing. I think he’s full of shit.”
Walker shakes his head, “Langley disagrees. They think he might be involved in some way and is trying to avoid implicating himself.”
“I’ve told him we will look the other way on the shit he’s into if he can lead us to the target, or at least give us something we don’t already know.” You shrug and lean back into your chair, waving your hand over the file. “Like I said, I’ve given him every assurance, dangled every carrot, and he gives me nothing. I’m at a loss.”
Walker hums, turning a page, “Maybe it's time to stop dangling the carrot and let him have it.”
Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
Walker doesn’t answer immediately. He finishes reading, then closes the file smoothly. He turns in his chair so he’s facing you and his knee brushes against your thigh, while he takes a moment to assess you.
“You said you’ve tried everything except taking your clothes off,” he says, the smirk reappearing on his lips.
“That’s not happening,” you say dismissively, but your cheeks burn at his suggestion.
Walker nods, a faux frown plays on his lips. “Did you read the brief?”
“Only a million times.”
Walker makes a gesture towards the folder on the table. “The initial report, second page, about a third of the way down.”
Sighing, you drag the file back in front of you and flip it open. Walker’s knee presses against your thigh as he puts his arm around the back of your chair and leans in to read over your shoulder.
“There,” he says.
You start to read, impatiently, “The subject is known for many clandestine relationships outside of his marriage. He tends to favour women who…” you trail off as you realise the description of his type of woman is basically a description of you. You keep reading in silence.
…At least one of his former lovers was a British Agent and seeing as the subject was prone to “pillow talk”, it had proved an effective way to gather intelligence…
“Miss that part in your millions of readings did you?” Walker says in your ear. “Why do you think you were put on this case, hmm?”
The arm that rests on the back of the chair now rests on your shoulder and he starts to stroke your neck. His other hand rests on your knee, his fingers edge beneath the hem of your dress, inching their way up your thigh.
You can barely breathe, the realisation dawning on you that he’s right. You thought you were being rewarded for good work with lower level assets. Embarrassment creeps in, the old imposter syndrome that you had convinced yourself wasn’t an issue begins to rear its ugly head.
“I can’t,” you whisper.
Walker moves closer, his breath is warm on your neck, his fingers have worked themselves halfway up the inside of your thigh and they pause to caress your sensitive delicate skin.
“You can,” he whispers back, “I know what’s stopping you. Why do you think I was put on this case?”
Your chin trembles and you try to swallow down the lump rising in your throat. “This was the plan the whole time?”
“A contingency that Langley has decided to implement to hurry things along.”
Shaking your head, you flick his hand away from your thigh. “I can turn him without having sex with him. Give me a few more days.”
Walker grabs your jaw, his thumb and fingers dig painfully into your cheeks and he makes you look at him. His eyes are blazing with lustful impatience. He’s been waiting for this you realise, he’s been waiting for you to fail, waiting for the go ahead to take you.
“You don’t have a few days, princess. You have tonight,” Walker says in a gravelly and thick tone that doesn’t hold so much as an inch of empathy. “You have a choice. You can open your legs for me like a good girl and I’ll make your first time as pleasant as possible and believe me, I can make it very pleasurable. Or, you can let an ugly, skinny, limp dicked asshole, that doesn’t even know your real name, uselessly pound your sweet, tight, virgin pussy until his cum dribbles into your ruined little hole.”
“And if I refuse both options?” Your voice quivers as you ask the question because deep down you already know the answer.
“You’ll be out. A burn notice will be issued within the next hour.”
Icy fear blooms in your chest and your blood runs cold through your veins. Burn notice. Not only will you be out of the agency, but no self respecting private security firm would take you either. The whole industry would be closed to you. Everything you worked for would be taken from you within the hour.
Closing your eyes, you coldly try to rationalise the situation, weighing up the pros and cons.
What is virginity anyway? Your hymen was well and truly worn away by now. You’ve had a wide selection of toys inside you. A couple of guys had fingered you in college and it wasn’t as though you were saving yourself for marriage or anything. Your lack of sexual experience is due to not having the inclination to find a partner who you wanted to sleep with rather than any real moral objection.
There would be worse men to sleep with than Walker. He is attractive, even if he’s normally a little standoffish. He boasts about making it feel pleasurable doesn’t seem to be without merit; you can’t deny that his fingers which are circling their way up your inner thigh again do feel nice.
You open your eyes slowly and determinedly set your jaw. You lick your lips and take a breath to give your tepid consent, but nothing comes out.
Walker seems to understand though, his hand holding your jaw softens and slides down to your neck. He uses his grip to draw you close enough to brush his lips over yours.
Whiskers prickle against your chin and warm, silky lips stroke yours, capturing first your lower lip then your top in a gentle nip.
“Relax,” he whispers against your mouth. His breath heats your lips and smells of mint and coffee.
As he resumes his kiss, a light tickling sensation begins on your inner thigh, picking up where it had left off. Soft circling fingers draw an invisible spiral on your sensitive skin as it inches its way towards the apex of your thighs. It feels nice, gentle and tender, and against your will, your skin tingles with warm anticipation.
Hot velvety strokes of his tongue tease your lips, probing softly where they meet, silently urging you to open. He’s patient, easing back before trying again, all the while his thumb strokes your throat and fingers caress higher and higher up your thigh.
Maybe it is primal instinct, or perhaps you simply surrender, but you part your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth with a hum of approval. He strokes, massages, and sucks, encouraging you to reciprocate, but you can’t. While his touch is seductive, your heart beats faster and your body warms as your body begins to throb, you feel detached. It’s like he’s doing things to you and your body reacts but your mind is somewhere else recording your involuntary, mechanical reactions.
The ghosting circular caresses get larger, reaching high enough for a knuckle to brush over your panties. Dispassionate curiosity keeps you unmoving as his hand sweeps over your thigh again, this time a finger traces the edge of your panties, following its curve before resuming its path.
He brushes over your panties again, floating over your slit and grazing your clit. A deep thrum begins between your legs and vibrates hotly through your nerves, and settles in your breasts making your nipples ache as they grow tight and harden.
Your detachment shatters. You break his kiss with a cry and force your knees together, trapping his hand between your thighs and halting his advance.
“You were doing so well, princess,” Walker says, with a thicker and less gentle voice than before.
You scowl at him as he tries to pry your knees apart with his free hand. It’s not anger that makes you protest; it's the fear that grips your heart with its icy fingers as you see the burning lust in his eyes. He isn’t just doing this for the mission, he’s doing this because he wants to and somehow that is so much worse.
You try to stand and run, but he’s too quick for you. He captures your wrists in one hand and roughly uses his body to get behind you. He thrusts his groin against your ass, and bends you over the table, trapping you like a pinned butterfly by your hands and his chest pressing against your back.
“Be a good girl and don’t fight it, because I’ll take you the hard way if I have to,” he growls in your ear in a tone that suggests he might enjoy that even more.
“Please,” you rasp weakly. “Please don’t…”
A rough hand bunches your dress up to your hips then rubs over the soft flesh of your thighs. You try to close your legs but he inches his feet between yours and forces them apart. He licks the shell of your ear before taking your earlobe into his mouth and sucks. Heat flows through your veins again, your nerves electrify while you twist and fight against his iron-like grip and heavy weight.
“Are you getting wet for me, princess?” he asks, mockingly rubbing himself against your ass.
“No!” you protest louder and with more conviction, hoping the forcefulness of your response covers for your lie because despite your fear, and you are afraid, your body is undoubtedly aroused and growing more so with every passing second.
“No?” Walker asks. “Are you sure?”
Embarrassment makes you drop your head to the table with a feeble whimper. Why is it that his smug mocking makes you even more aroused? You’re hot and slick beneath your panties and everytime Walker grinds himself against your ass, the fabric of the gusset clings to your sticky lips.
“Are you sure? I think I should check,” he says as his fingers hook the edge of your panties and peels them away slowly.
Walker’s fingers easily slide over your pussy. You bite the inside of your cheek to try and stop the moan that hurtles up your throat. You try to fight against him, but he’s got you trapped as his fingers stroke and probe between your legs.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet,” he mutters throatily, as though he’s talking to himself. Sounding almost amazed, he adds, “You like this.”
Humiliated, you let out a soft cry. You do like it. You like the way he’s touching you even better now than when he first started. His weight pinning you to the table is strangely comforting, and knowing you can’t fight him off is embarrassingly arousing.
He spreads you open and a finger teases your entrance. You hold your breath, your whole body clenches anticipating pain. But he’s gentle as he slips a finger easily inside you and lets out a hard amused breath into your ear and you can imagine the smug grin on his face.
You squeeze your eyes shut as he slides his finger back and forth, each time at a new angle as if he is searching for something. He moans softly as he kisses your neck, sucking and biting hard, such a contrast to how gently his finger explores.
He adds a second finger, you cry out again as he stretches you and you clamp down hard as if you could push him out. He groans in response, his voice erotically guttural, powerful and raw as he growls out, “Your pussy is so fucking tight. So fucking hot.”
His fingers curl and you gasp. It already felt so good, but now there is a pleasant pressure building deep in your gut. Your core throbs and you tighten around him even more and your eyes widen in horror as you realise what is happening.
“No, no, no,” you protest as your thighs begin to shake.
Tears well in your eyes as your body grows incredibly taut and torrid heat gathers between your legs. You pull on the hand holding your wrists and manage to get one free. You cover your mouth, trying to suppress your cries as your body surrenders to searing heaves of euphoric release that leave your skin tingling and your muscles quivering.
You’re still high, heady and weak from your orgasm as Walker pulls your panties down your thighs. Somewhere in your mind you think you should fight him because you know what's coming next, but your body feels so good that you also crave more. So much so that when Walker takes your hips and turns you before snaking an arm around your waist, you docilely let him lift you onto the table and stand between your bare legs.
Heavy lidded you watch him quickly undo his belt, his movements are a frantic indication of his desire. When he lifts his eyes as his pants drop to the floor your breath catches in your throat. Untamed and bestial lust twists his features, curling his lip and narrowing his cobalt stare.
“Please,” you murmur, the words spilling from your lips without any understanding of what you’re begging for.
Walker bares his teeth with a savage grin and growl, and reaches between his legs. He’s soft and blunt as he drags himself over you, coating the head of his cock in your slick arousal. Your mouth opens and you take a stuttering breath as he positions himself at your core. His arm draws your body close to him as he slowly pushes into you, his eyes dark and wild.
Pressure like you’ve never known makes your core spasm and strain and though you put a hand to his chest to try to slow him down, he doesn’t stop his unyielding intrusion. You think you should want to scream, cry, or at least protest, but your legs wrap around him, pulling him deeper until your bodies meet.
Twin moans float as they hang in the air as you both still. His breath saws in his throat as your every exhale comes out with a soft whimper. No toy ever stretched you like this and you look down to see your slit bloom and spread around his thick cock.
“Oh God,” you cry as your head lolls and falls back.
Fingers slip between your lips and pull on your teeth until your eyes meet Walkers. He watches slack-jawed and panting as your mouth closes over his intrusive fingers and the humiliating taste of your orgasm stings your tongue.
With a growl he removes his fingers and covers your mouth with his, forcing his tongue into your mouth and sucking on yours as if to get a taste for himself. He grazes his whiskers over you, making your skin prickle. Your hand moves to his wrist and slides down his forearm and the powerful muscles dancing beneath his hairy skin feel so good you tighten your grip to feel then contract and flex.
He moves.
With fluid and deliberate rolls of his hips, he grinds against you. His mouth still covers yours and you desperately try to breathe through your nose and not choke on the scream that is poised at the back of your throat. His body moves with erotic grace, confusing your mind with every circling thrust. It shouldn’t feel so good, you don’t want this.
Oh but you do. You so do.
The familiar heat gathers between your legs and your hips, moving with him, chasing him, urging him to move faster, to give you what you need to fall into bliss again. You’re not sure when you went from passive recipient to enthusiastically compliant, but you’re definitely a desperately willing participant now.
Walker leaves your lips and kisses down your throat, groaning as he sucks bruisingly hard on your skin. He works his way to your ear, his cheeks burn your skin as your skin prickles and breaks into sweat.
“Your pussy is too good to waste on another man,” Walker groans. “You’re mine now.”
It takes you a moment to register his words, but when they sink in, irrationally your heart soars.
“All fucking mine,” he growls.
The heat of his breath as he rasps out the words in his harsh and rugged baritone send you over the edge. You clasp and grab at him, trying to hold on as your body shakes and shudders and you bask in that moment where everything all falls away and there's nothing except the surging tides of hot euphoria.
“Fuck,” he snarls, when you open your eyes.
He grabs your ass with one hand and hooks his other arm under your knee, spreading you wide open. He’s no longer grinding, now he’s pumping hard watching himself move in and out of your swollen and sodden core.
He cups the back of your head, drawing your mouth close enough to kiss as he chases his end. His rhythmic frantic thrusts suddenly stop as he lifts his head with a long groan and holds himself deep within you. You inhale a rough breath as he imperceptibly thickens and throbs, shocked that you can actually feel each pulse of his release as it rushes up his cock.
With a final sigh, he drops his head, resting against your lips. You kiss him there softly and your lips sting with the taste of his humid skin as sweat runs down his forehead and into your mouth. It should disgust you, but instead of pulling away you kiss him again before lowering your head and nuzzling into his neck.
You both stay there for a minute while you catch your breath and try to process what happened. You don’t know what to think, it all happened so fast, and feels so confusing. Part of you knows you should be furious, but somehow you can’t seem to muster the anger at the violation when it felt so good.
His softening cock starts to slip from your core. When it falls you feel unbelievably wet between your legs. He came inside you, you hadn’t even thought about it. A small shiver tickles at your spine. Though your core aches, the thought of his cum leaking from you was so erotic that you almost want to reach between you legs and feel it as it slowly flows from deep inside you.
Walker raises his head, his expression as calm as you’ve ever seen and his normally turbulent eyes seem serene. The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s trying to smile, not smirk or sneer, but genuinely smile.
“I mean it,” he says, pushing errant hairs tenderly off your face. “You’re not fucking him. I’ll find another way to get what we need.”
From the look of grim determination that settles in his jaw, you have no doubts about his seriousness.
“Do I get a say at all?” you ask, your voice still trembling.
“No.”
#rabbitsmilestone23#henry cavill#henry cavill fanfic#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill fan fiction#august walker#august walker fanfiction#august walker fic#mission impossible#mission impossible fallout#august walker x you#august walker fanfic#august walker x reader#august walker x female reader
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Thanksgiving
August Walker x Reader
Summary: August has you over for thanksgiving.
Warnings: 18+ Only, NSFW, unprotected sex (p in v), oral (f receiving), pet names, some food play, fluff, age gap, vulgar language
Wordcount: 930
A/N: Had this in mind for weeks but things got a bit chaotic in my personal life so it is a bit rushed. So sorry. 😣
A spread of Thanksgiving delicacies and candlelight covered August's dining table as you were squirming in your seat across from him. Although you had been alone with him before, this was the first time he had asked you to his place with such boldness.
“Which one do you prefer?” He pointed at the turkey and ham. “Oh, um, the turkey,” you awkwardly replied. Internally, you were scolding yourself.
August took your plate and placed a turkey slice on it. When your plate was placed in front of you again, part of the food was on the edges since you didn't want to be impolite and refuse any of the food he had prepared. “It looks delicious, August."
As you began eating your food, halfway, you noticed August hadn’t touched his. “Why aren’t you eating?"
August took notice of your nervous mannerisms since the beginning of the night. “Why are you fidgeting?” You looked away from his eyes and dropped your utensil. He leaned across the table and raised your face so you would look at him. “Tell me.” His light-hearted question has now turned into a demand.
“Well, we’ve never done this.” His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “What do you mean?"
“This is intimate. Well, we have been intimate before, but this is a different type of intimacy. It’s romantic. This is different for us.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. August sat back in his chair and chuckled.
“It’s not funny!” You huffed and crossed your arms.
“Oh, I don't think it's humorous, baby. I simply don't understand why you withheld your concerns from me. I am aware that this is unusual for us because we haven't been able to go on the kind of date that I had hoped for. However, the fact that it will be our first Thanksgiving spent together makes it more special.”
Suddenly, all the nerves you held floated away.
August took a few steps around the table before bringing out the chair beside you. He kissed your hand after grasping it.
"This is really special, and I'm glad it's with you. Thank you for doing all of this." You said before giving him a kiss that started out as affectionate but quickly turned hungry. "Suddenly, none of this food appeals to me."
“But you made all of it. It shouldn’t go to waste.” He nodded his head, and you could tell he had an idea. “It won’t go to waste, princess.”
You watched as he brought the bowl filled with mashed potatoes closer. It suddenly became clear to you what he was intending to do. “You’re going to eat the food off of me?"
August started to take your dress off your body, and you allowed him to. "Indeed, I am. After all, it's Thanksgiving. We must be grateful and eat until we put on ten pounds." He paused to give you a kiss on the inside of your thigh. "This is what I'm thankful for—this wonderful food. And above all, you."
As you bit your lip, you saw him apply mashed potatoes to both sides of your inner thighs before starting to eat them off of you. When you felt him sucking and twirling his tongue around, pleasure took over you.
Moans effortlessly left you as you grasped your breasts and pinched your nipples. He applied another sheer coat of mashed potatoes to your cunt, and you soon felt the feel of his tongue pressing against your clit.
His formerly brilliant blue eyes were bursting with desire as you gazed down at him. His tongue lapsed and sucked until you were a wailing mess that was coming apart. “God, August.”
He kissed his way up to your mouth. “Get undressed now,” you demanded of him. He tore his clothes off in a rush. And, thoughtlessly lifted you and placed you down on the table. August lifted the cranberry sauce and poured it over your breasts. When he began to suck and twirl his tongue over your nipples, groans fell from his lips.
“August, I need you inside me.”
His face held a wicked smile. “You want me inside of you, princess? Want to feel all of me?"
“Yes, please.”
With rapidity, he lunged inside you, and your legs encircled his waist. His sac struck your ass with each push. As you bent in to give him a kiss, you noticed how his muscles strained with every thrust.
You encircled his neck firmly with your arms, and he enveloped his powerful arms beneath your thighs. When he pressed you against the wall and invaded you, you were able to feel him more deeply. With every push, his cock grazed your g-spot.
Your come covered his cock. “My good girl, covering me with her come.”
With your mouth hanging open and your eyes shut, you became mute as the pounding intensified. He gripped your face tightly. "Look at me; I must see that stunning face of yours as I come into you."
His body began to jerk as his seed filled you.
August's head rested on the bend of your neck while you both tried to breathe again. Once he was breathing normally again, he took a look at you and let out a little laugh. “What is it?” you questioned him.
"There's food in your hair," he said, moving your hair away from your face.
You chuckled hysterically and touched his face before speaking. "Happy Thanksgiving, baby."
"Honey, happy Thanksgiving." He kissed you several times over your face after giving you a quick peck on the lips.
Taglist: @shellyshellshell @chloe92 @identity2212 @juliaorpll78 @armystay89
#henry cavill#first post#henry cavill smut#smutty#henry cavill x reader#fluff#henry cavill fanfic#august walker fanfiction#august#august walker smut#august walker x reader#august walker#autumn#thanksgiving#dad's best friend#mission impossible#fall out#august walker x you#august walker x ofc#fluff and smut#fluff fic#august walker fluff
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AU — being an Formula 1 driver & dating Tom Cruise <3
#tom cruise#tom cruise imagine#tom cruise icons#tom cruise fanfic#tom cruise x reader#pete maverick mitchell#top gun#top gun maverick#mission impossible#mission impossible dead reckoning#ethan hunt
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DANGEROUS
CHAPTER ONE
Summary: You are a retired spy trying to live a normal life. Some time ago, a hired assassin named Tangerine tried to kill you. In response, you sought the help of an old acquaintance who could fake any death, August Walker. However, now your false identity is in jeopardy, along with your life.
Warnings: For now, the fanfic will not contain explicit content, but it will be flagged if it does in the future. However, there will be the use of strong language and moderate violence. Readers are advised. The characters August Walker and Tangerine do not belong to me but to their respective creators. Some other characters that belong to both Mission: Impossible (2018) and Bullet Train (2022) may appear in this fanfic. Other characters who are not part of these movies will be of my own creation. I hope you enjoy the reading.
chapter two
A dark night, too dark for your liking. You're the kind of person who prefers light to darkness, but life has taught you to adapt to your surroundings. Trained since adolescence, you became a great spy. Perhaps too great. One day, someone tried to kill you, and they almost succeeded. To this day, all you know about the hired assassin who nearly ended your life is his nickname. That's because he told you to thank the kindness of the tangerine or any other citrus fruit when you were in a hospital bed fighting for your life. In the end, he helped you. In order to disappear from the radar, you turned to a highly dangerous man named August Walker.
"Neighbor, you should come inside. It's too late for a young lady, even if you're a widow like yourself. Your husband surely wouldn't leave you alone, especially at this hour of the night." Mrs. Johnson speaks from the balcony of her house, which is a few houses before mine.
"In fact, my late husband didn't have much say in where I should go, regardless of the time, but thank you, Mrs. Johnson. I have a commitment with an old college friend, and I have to hurry to catch the last train." you say, trying to be falsely polite and quickening your pace; after all, you're really running late. Walker sent a message after two years of no contact. To be honest, you thought he was dead. But when a bouquet of red roses appeared on your fake late husband's grave, you knew. Walker needs you.
The cold night wind rustles the hem of your dress, which is neither too short nor too long. Fortunately, you decided to wear a coat that shields you from the excessive chill. The bouquet of roses marks the location of the meeting with Walker. In the city center, there is a flower shop named W. Flowers. Few know, but August is the heir to this florist. The new owner usually keeps the flower shop open until late at night, claiming it's for the sake of last-minute lovers. You hurriedly board the train, having purchased a ticket for the last available seat. Strangely, the seats next to and in front of you are empty. A chill runs down your spine. Something feels off-kilter. When you stand up, you see Walker entering the train with a dark overcoat that complements his expensive suit. He doesn't look directly at you; in fact, it's as if he's scanning every corner of the train before allowing his gaze to meet yours. Something is amiss. You act as if he is a stranger for much of the journey. He occupies the seat in front of you, indicating that he wants to observe you without interacting. A young woman with a child in her lap takes the seat next to August.
The train is about to depart, and no one has taken the seat beside you. You allow yourself to think that perhaps the passenger gave up the journey, or Walker intentionally bought this ticket, knowing that only the seat across from him would be left for you. You glance at him, and he seems uneasy. As always, his gaze says little. During the times you trained to become skilled spies, he was always praised for having a difficult-to-read or interpret face. You decide to gently nudge his leg with your foot, while the mother of the child tries to calm her restless son. He seems to understand that you need a signal, something to comprehend the situation you both find yourselves in. So, he drags his shoe to the exposed part of your leg and quickly forms a 'T' with the tip of his shoe. You swiftly grasp what's happening.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" A completely recognizable voice addresses you, and then he sits beside you. The man, as attractive as he may be, will always be remembered as the one who tried to kill you, now sitting next to you on the train. He is wearing a blue suit, adjusting his blazer while smiling at the child who has now stopped throwing a tantrum and has finally calmed down in the mother's lap.
You look at Walker, as if to say, "Fuck you." He handed me over to the citrus fruit. You get up quickly trying to escape. But Tangerine's hand holds your hand. His hand is firm holding yours, almost making it seem like we're old lovers or something.
"Honey, you should sit down, the train is going to leave soon. You might lose your balance." Your eyes are penetrated through Tangerine's blue eyes. A somewhat greenish blue.
"Thank you for your kindness, but I really need to go to the bathroom." You say, smiling slightly and then heading to the bathroom as quickly as possible. Your breathing is so uneven, your chest feels like it's going to explode. You only come to your senses when someone knocks on the bathroom door.
"Sorry, the bathroom is occupied." That's all you can say before having the bathroom stall invaded by Walker. As soon as you see it's him, your first instinct is to hit his chest. With all the strength possible. But he holds your hands and then pulls your body against his.
"I know you're angry and I accept all your anger. But right now, Y/L/N, we're screwed. We're in that psychopath's hands." He speaks almost with a beating, while still holding your hands.
"We're screwed, my ass. You screwed yourself and for a change you gave me away so you wouldn't be screwed alone." You know Walker too well to know he would do anything to survive. You think about opening the bathroom stall door but he holds your body against the door and finally lets go of your hands. You look into Walker's eyes before doing the only thing that comes to your mind. You pull Walker's face towards you and kiss him. A kiss that slowly intensifies, as you explore every part of his body with your hands. Carefully you notice that he has a gun on the back of his waist. You hold tight to his neck, bringing your legs up to Walker's waist. He understood that he should hold your ass and basically hold you on his lap. You lightly touch Walker's penis, which seems to be getting erect. Anything to distract him while you try to get the gun out of his waistband.
"I know what you're doing..." He says without breaking the kiss too much, which is perfect. You finally reach for the gun and then you bite down hard on Walker's lip. He moans loudly in pain and and moves away from you. Before he can react, you shoot into the air and turn to run out of the train, imagining all the passengers running out of the train as soon as they heard it the shot.
"See you outside." You talk running out of the train with the crowd. Leaving Walker behind. But then you feel someone grab your waist as soon as you get off the train.
"I'm glad you let Walker go, now it's just you and me." Tangerine says, smiling slightly as he guides you and you feel like you won't escape easily this time.
#august walker x reader#henry cavill x reader#august walker x you#august walker fanfiction#henry cavill characters#tangerine bullet train#tangerine x reader#aaron taylor johson characters#Spotify#spy au#action fanfic#august walker#tangerine#mission impossible#bullet train#enemies to lovers#unrequited lust#slow burn#future smut#angst#fluff#original female character
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Masterlist
Started: 7-29-22
Updated: 4-15-24
Story count: 46
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Ryan Gosling
ONE SHOTS
Officer K
Heart of Gold
Driver
Get Away Driver
unworthy goodbyes
Sebastian Wilder
La vie en Rose
Sierra Six/Court Gentry
Double Trouble ***
Turning Tides ***
Rematch ***
Prince Charming ***
Protection Squad ***
Homework Problems ***
Polaroid
The Spy Next Door ***
SONG INSPIRED
Sierra Six/ Court Gentry
Loved ***
SMUT
Sierra Six/Court Gentry
Far Away
All you had to do was ask
Shy Boy ***
Ethan Hunt
ONE SHOTS
Promises
Reckoning ***
Lazy Saturdays ***
Falling in Love in France ***
Complete ***
Daryl Dixon
ONE SHOT
Jealousy ***
Prisoner and Savior
Sunshine Optimist
"I Know"
Savior
SMUT
The Hearts Want
After
Jeffery Dean Morgan
Negan Smith-
ONE SHOT
Prisoner and Savior
To Love and Trust
SERIES
Love Lost
Part 1: Atlanta-Verginia
Part 2: Heart Strings
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John Winchester-
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Hunt
MARVEL:
Wanda
ONE SHOT
Magnets
Love Knot (poll)
Bucky
ONE SHOT
Car Troubles
The Book
Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield)
ONE SHOT
Skyscraper
Bruce Wayne
ONE SHOT
The Love of a Bat
Geralt
ONE SHOT
Sleepovers
Wounds and Kisses ***
Preference? ***
Fezco
ONE SHOT
Anger and Love ***
You Did a Bad Thing Twice ***
Theseus Scamander
SMUT
Magic Hands ***
JJ Maybank
ONE SHOT
Bruises
Thank you for all your support!
Feel Free to submit request or even message me if you want to chat about characters or ideas!
#sierra six x reader#ethan hunt fanfic#the grey man fan fiction#mission impossible#the walking dead imagine#daryl fanfiction#negan is a good character#negan smith#bale bruce wayne#fezco x reader#wanda x you#wanda maximoff#geralt x you#geralt of rivia#theseus scamander#peter parker#jj mayback x reader
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