#cavillrystripperchallenge

[hope-to-hell]

My entry for @nashibirne ‘s stripper challenge. Underneath. August Walker x Reader. Smut, scars, mention of prior injury, fingering. In his way, he keeps you close to him.

Strip, he says, and his hands are lost in darkness; he could be holding anything because his face betrays nothing. It could be a gun or a rope or a pretty little piece of chain; maybe it’ll be like the time he bound you naked in his study, splayed open and dripping, ruining the carpet with your juices every time he eased into the room to fuck you one more time.

Slower. Do I need to show you? Whatever he’s holding disappears behind the desk and he rises. He rises and rises and rises and he is towering in his boring stupid suit; he should really be in linen, in leather, in silk; he should be dressed in fabrics that tantalize and tease; he should ornament himself like a king but here he is in his beige-and-brown. Like this. And his hands are on your buttons, opening them one by one; he is slow, deliberate, his breath warm as he instructs you.

One. Two. There’s that delicate tremble, the telltale vibration of fingers broken and rebroken. Three. He steps back and tilts his head so his scars catch the light. And you continue with a delicate sway, with the oceanic roar of blood in your ears; he could pull you to the depths and all you’d say is I will follow.

Watch me now, he doesn’t say, because he knows you will; he sees you with his one remaining eye (one blue and keen and burning, the other milky-white and cold but don’t you know that’s the eye that sees beyond). He lays his coat aside and opens his own shirt with deliberation; inch by inch he emerges and all his many scars are brought to light. His body is a map: splashes of burns that drip down his neck, the twist of a knife between his ribs; he is stories upon stories that raise him up as a legend, or drag him to hell as an infamous beast. What do you see?

I see a man. One who’s still wearing far too much. And there’s that little smile, that twist of the lips, the one that makes the silver threads in his mustache catch the light. And maybe his fine control is damaged, but he’s so goddamned strong. He carries days and months of little movements, stretches, rubbing-downs; already he fills rooms with his presence once more. Already he fills you.

Fuck. He grips and tears his way through the rest of your clothes until he can back you up against the wall, until he can hitch an arm under your thigh and press inside. It’s just like the first time with the stretch that smooths out into slick motion, with the tidal roll of his hips. If a fuck could be a word, that word would be mine.

Not much of a striptease, was it? The words punch out from your throat with every thrust; he snorts and there’s a sudden rogue-wave snap of his hips. This close he still smells faintly of snow and fuel, cordite and moss; laid over it all is vetiver and orange and something deep and dark.

Hush, pet. Enjoy being under my hands.

Under him and over him and any position he decides to put you in: August is the architect of this scene. When he moves you off the wall there’s a sudden breathless feeling but he won’t let you fall— never that— if his body is a tool, yours is a precious thing to be protected. And when he sets you on the desk there’s a moment when he stops to look with his unmatched eyes and sees you at a depth beyond the physical; his crows’ feet deepen as he takes you in.

There you are. I have something for you. And he reaches, still inside you; he slides up your body and even deeper inside as he reaches for the top drawer. When he withdraws his hand he holds a fine chain; caught in the links is a silver circle.

Beautiful.

You’ll have to close the clasp, I can’t. But pet. You are mine because you consent to be mine. Do you understand? Of course, of course; pain and death are in him deep and yet somewhere beyond there’s him, the August who takes his coffee strong and sweet, the August who called from the deep dark underground and whispered did you miss me, pet, the August who came back somehow both less and more than he was before. And he moves in you slowly now, unhurried; he lays the silver chain across your throat and whispers feel the weight of me.

The weight of him, yes: then and now and all the moments in between, the future yet unwritten and the past an endless map of what might have happened. And when he comes it’s with a sigh and the brush or his curls across your skin as he bows his head. His hands are broad and scarred and trembling when he moves to pull you after; he does it for himself as much as you, perhaps to prove that he still can. Perhaps it’s to spit in the face of pain, perhaps it’s to enjoy the grinding ache of bone. Perhaps he wants to feel you warm around him with every twinge of pain long after, a little light to guide him through the dark.

#cavillrystripperchallenge #my fic #Henry cavill #august walker #august walker fic #august walker smut #august walker x reader #august walker x you #mission impossible: fallout #mission: impossible fallout smut #mission: impossible fallout fic

[suometar]

I posted 11 268 times in 2021

132 posts created (1%)

11136 posts reblogged (99%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 84.4 posts.

I added 3 838 tags in 2021

#loki - 798 posts

#giggle - 436 posts

#queutipie - 435 posts

#omg lol - 427 posts

#lol - 331 posts

#the witcher - 325 posts

#the expanse - 280 posts

#tom hiddleston - 276 posts

#geralt of rivia - 272 posts

#fan art - 258 posts

Longest Tag: 115 characters

#every award ceremony is so full of politics that no normal person wants to spend hours watching something like that

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

OK I just learned that Henry Cavill is a computer geek. I'm SO screwed. @nuggsmum

57 notes • Posted 2021-02-13 20:31:19 GMT

#4

The Finnish meteorological institute has a weather app that has this funny icon in it. It changes with the weather 😁

See the full post

63 notes • Posted 2021-02-14 11:59:34 GMT

#3

I just learned that there's actual Jotunheim in Norway. It's a national park. Jotunheimen literally means "the home of the giants"

When you look at the pictures of it I'm not at all surprised why.

See the full post

85 notes • Posted 2021-07-10 06:00:06 GMT

#2

It's happening. IT'S HAPPENING!

IT'S HAPPENING!!!

90 notes • Posted 2021-06-29 14:11:35 GMT

#1

Strippin' (Henry Cavill oneshot)

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: F/M

Fandoms: Henry Cavill - Fandom, British Actor RPF

Relationship: Henry Cavill/Reader

Characters: Henry Cavill, Reader

Additional Tags: Smut, Just smut, Did I say smut already?, Stripping, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex

Summary: Henry comes home from shooting a film and you want to make him work some extra.

Author's notes: This is my entry to the #cavillrystripperchallenge by @nashibirne! This was an absolute delight to write ;)

 [Read it on AO3 >>]

I closed the door behind me. “I’m home!” No answer. “Henry?” Not a peep. “Where the hell is he, he should be home by now” I wondered out loud and set the grocery bags on the floor while I took my coat and shoes off. Once that was done I carried the heavy bags to the kitchen and started to unload them to the fridge.

Henry’s shoot for his latest film had ended a week earlier and just yesterday he had said that his plane would land by noon today. But it was already almost 6pm and I hadn’t yet received any sign of life from him. Though I wasn’t really worried yet, sometimes the flights were delayed X amount of time and he didn’t always call to inform about it beforehand when he found out at the last minute and the flight was scheduled to depart in the early morning hours UK time. He didn’t want to wake me up just to say that he’d be late as he knew falling asleep again after being woken up in the middle of the night wasn’t my forte. He’d send a message or call immediately once he’d landed.

When I was done with unpacking I sat on the sofa and took a look at my phone. One message from Bby - the name Henry was listed with on my contacts. The message said: “Just landed. Horny.”

“You and me both bby” I replied smirking to the phone.

Soon the phone pinged again. “You have no idea.”

“I have an idea. But you’ll have to work for it ;)”

“???”

“You’ve been gone awfully long, bby. It’s not like I’m going to let you devour me just like that when you walk through that door. I’m not desperate you know ;)”

“You cunning little minx. *devil emoji*”

“That’s my name, bby. Just get here. Fast.”

An hour later the door opened and Kal ran through the door and jumped on me on the sofa. “Hey Kal! Oh, I’ve missed you too!” I giggled from under the massive dog that loved me with it’s whole weight and easily licked my face wet in a second.

“Why is he getting you just like that and I have to work for it?” Henry asked teasingly from the hall looking at me hugging the dog who’s tail was now wagging the dog.

“Kal is innocent and pure. He’s worthy. You, mister, you have to earn it” I smirked.

Henry walked to the living room. He pursed his lips amused and squinted. “Alright, I’ll play. What do I have to do?”

I looked at him teasing and bit my lip. “Strip for me.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Strip? Hmm. Well... I think I need some music then.” He searched his phone for a moment and when he found what he had been searching for he looked at me smirking. “Close the curtains, love, would you?”

I got up from the sofa and hurried to close the curtains as I hadn’t expected him actually agreeing to my tease.

“Sit down” he said with a commanding tone and like a good girl I sat down on the sofa pushing Kal down from it. I was in for a treat.

- -

See the full post

167 notes • Posted 2021-07-31 07:28:20 GMT

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