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call-sign-shark · 2 years

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SACRILÈGE || Teacher!Tom Cruise (+18)

Summary: Mr. Cruise is the director of St. Helena, a religious boarding school for troubling young women. Besides managing the school, he also teaches physics and mathematics. Lost in a forest, St. Helena is said to give a second chance to desperate girls. When your parents sent you there, they expected you to behave... Not to engage in a twisted romance with your teacher

Words: 3k of pure smut

Tags: Religious context, toy, fingering, corruption kink, age gap (reader is in her early 20's and Tom is 45-50), this is straight-up porn with a minimal plot so don't expect this to be a masterpiece. You've been warned. Minor DNI.

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“To solve this equation we will have to…”

Mr. Cruise’s words flew across the room but never really reached you. A small sigh escaped from your juicy lips as you repositioned yourself on the wooden chair. As you did, a delightful surge, followed by a wave of arousal, spread through your whole quivering body. It was like that at each of your movement.

“Now, I’m going to ask one of you to come and solve the new equation I just wrote on the board.”

You slightly wiggled on the chair, pressing your body against its surface a bit harder. It felt so frustrating not to move as you’d wish to… The friction of your panties’ fabric against your swollen and sensitive clit, pleasant at first, had become a lustful torture. It almost made you whimper but, fortunately enough, you had managed to choke it in your throat before it reached your lips. All you wanted was to moan but you knew that if you did, you would be in trouble. The thing was that the heat pooling in your loins was slowly turning into a wildfire, which threatened to burn you from within. You gripped the edge of your seat and clenched your fingers around it, for you did not know what to do anymore to control the pleasure you were experiencing. Your pulsing walls tightened around the vaginal plug that was buried in your drooling cunt and satisfying your growing sexual appetite.

Weeks ago you discussed with the baker’s wife during your gardening time and when the topic of men came you told her, quite timidly, that you never had sex before. She was not particularly surprised. You were trapped in religious boarding school for women after all. However, the baker’s wife still wondered why you had never fucked with a man before your parents dragged you here. To this question, you just shrugged. You were simply not ready. It seemed like your desire only woke up days after your arrival at St. Helena — how ironic. You could have slept with men countless times before, but it was only when you could not do it anymore that your body bloomed with sexual urges.

The first advice your friend gave you was to masturbate, which you did but it could be quite difficult for intimacy was scarce at St. Helena. You shared the dorm with five other girls, and shower time was strictly monitored by the nun in charge of the floor on which your bedroom was. All in all, your whole day was planned down to the minute. As a consequence of this tight schedule, you could not really find the time nor the intimacy to relieve your naughty needs.

There came the idea of the vaginal plug. What happened next was quite simple: you saved the pocket money your parents sent you each week and asked the baker’s wife to buy you something. You had the plug for a few days but it had already become a necessity. The toy was extremely practical for all you had to do was push it inside your pussy and keep it as long as you wish. It was not like someone would rummage through your panties though.

“Y/N. Would you come to the board please?”

Hearing Mr. Cruise voice calling your name snatched you from your pleasure bubble.

“Oh, uh, me?”

“Is there another Y/N in my school I don’t know about?” He replied quietly, but the corner of his lips was tucked in a faint amused smile.

“I am afraid I won’t be able to solve this. To be honest with you I am not good with maths, Sir..” How you managed to line up so many words in a row without stuttering was a mystery.

“That’s okay, Y/N. We’re going to solve it together and I’ll explain the process to the class at the same time.” His forest green eyes stared at you with vivid interest. Your relationship with the attractive Mr. Cruise had been rocky. He was often more demanding with you than with the other girls. It was probably because your parents had warned him you were quite a rebel soul. It seemed like he was looking at you with a bit more of intensity than he should do, but you chased away the thought, certainly influenced by the indescribable arousal the sex toy was giving you. Defeated, you had no other choice than obey Mr. Cruise if you wanted to remain free of all suspicions. Gathering the willpower left in you, you shut your thighs tight and stood up on your staggering feet.

“Are you okay?” He asked, noticing the goosebumps not only on your arms but also on the skin of your legs your high socks could not cover. You were cute in a way he could not speak… Especially when you were wearing your skirt.

“Yes, Sir!” You hurried to reply before making your way to the board under the insistent gaze of your teacher, trying to keep your legs as closed as you could. With each step, another wave of pleasure crashed against your walls and reflected in your whole body. And during the whole walk of shame, Mr. Cruise did not look away, his emerald iris tantalized by the way your hips were swinging … Or by the adorable color your cheeks had turned into when he started talking to you.

“Alright.” Once you reached him, the teacher handed you the white chalk he had been using to write on the blackboard. You took it, barely daring to look at Mr. Cruise’s handsome face. The first time you saw him, you had to ask God for forgiveness in your prayers for a tsunami of obscene thoughts flooded your mind. St. Helena’s director was a breathtakingly attractive man in his late forties or early fifties — you could not tell. But what you could tell was that he inspired you with many wet dreams even though he was more than twice your age and could be your dad. So, looking at his piercing feline eyes when your pussy was tortured by a plug would 100% make you climax here in the middle of the classroom.

You grabbed the chalk and tried to focus on the calculus, but the gears of your brain did not want to work. They remained silent, like the frozen mechanism of some vintage clocks. In spite of the pressure of being in front of the class, your body could not take care of anything else than the maddening sensation of the plug’s egg shape stretching your tight and needy pussy. The sex toy was too big for you inexperienced hole, so you often had trouble putting it in.

“That’s okay, my dear. Let me explain the solution to you.” Joining gestures to words, Mr. Cruise’s large and slightly calloused hand wrapped yours and led the chalk on the board. Warm skin against cold one, the temperature difference between you strengthens the unbearable arousal pooling in your lower back. The musky and manly fragrance of his perfume tingled your nostrils, making you want to bury your face in the crook of his neck as you sat on his lap like a good girl.

No, Y/N! Don’t think about that kind of sinful thing! You forced your mind not to drift from the calculus, but you did not understand a single. Not that you weren’t hearing Mr. Cruise’s seductive voice, but you were not listening to it.

“And that’s how you solve the problem. See, Y/N? That was not so difficult.” He said, with a charming toothy smile etched on his lips.

“Thank you, Sir.” You said, your eyes still fixed on the wooden floor as blood rushed to your face. At least I can go back to my chair, you thought. You had barely moved when the teacher’s hand gently grabbed your wrist. Surprised, you finally glance at him.

“For the last ten minutes of the course, I ask you to stay here,” As he talked, Mr. Cruise gently put his hands on your shoulders and pressed on them. Forced to sit on the edge of his desk, you shut your eyes trying to keep your composure but could not hold the feverish sigh that came out, “So that you’ll be more attentive and you’ll leave the class understanding today’s lesson.” The teacher said with the most caring tone you’d ever heard. He held your shoulders for a little while, pressing on them a bit strongly. You discreetly pulled your lower lips with your teeth to not whimper as the plug pushed deeper into you because of the pressure Mr. Cruise was applying. His forest green eyes shone with a lecherous appetite — Could he know that something was buried in your cunt? No, it was not possible.

The attractive director Cruise finally freed you from his grip and took one quick glance at your perky nipples, which were pointing under the tight fabric of your blouse. Then, he focused back on the class.

The last ten minutes seemed to be hours of endless carnal torture. You felt your pulse in your swollen clit, and all your holes were open in anticipation of getting filled. Tears almost overflooded your Y/EC eyes for the hellish arousal you were undergoing almost made you run out of breath. Desire ignited your virgin body, and the sparkled that originally started the fire was Mr. Cruise.

The ring echoed in the corridor, striking the end of school — or striking a miraculous liberation for you.

“Alright girls, don’t forget to do exercises three and four for tomorrow. See you soon.” The teacher said, hands crossed in his back.

You stood up from the desk, quickly grabbed your stuff, and proceeded to leave the classroom.

“Not you, Y/N.” You froze

“Sir?”

“In my office. Now.” His sweet voice had turned to ice when the last woman exited the room, leaving you and Mr. Cruise alone.

Stricken by panic, your heart quickened and your being shattered. Now you were in trouble.

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You had followed Mr. Cruise to his office in complete silence. Not once you tried to ask him the reason behind such an appointment nor what did you do wrong, for you were far too afraid of the answer. Yet, the most logical part of your mind was trying to soothe your fears: no one could possibly know about the plug. You had managed to hide it so well that no one ever suspected you owned such an object. At this point, the only possible reason behind Mr. Cruise’s reprimands was your distracted behavior during today’s class. The seductive man made you enter the room first so that he could shut the door behind you. What you did not expect was to hear the door’s locking though. Chills ran down your spine as a thin streak of pussy juice ran down your inner thighs.

“Do you know what kind of school St. Helena is, Y/N?” He asked, his words sharp as glass shards. You turned around to look at him.

“A religious boarding school, Sir.”

“A religious boarding school,” The teacher repeated, tilting his head to the side without looking away, “You’re right, dear. So, can I ask you why do you have such a dirty attitude?”

Your heart stopped, thunder-stricken by fear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Sir.” You tried to sound convincing but you stuttered like a guilty child. Mr. Cruise walked to you and leaned to whisper in your ear.

“Bend over the desk.”

Your breath hitched, for the atmosphere thickened in the room. This time, you were shaking like a leaf. Did you hear well?

“Y/N. Bend. Now.” His voice remained quiet but his words were coated with a thrilling coldness. Having no other choice than giving in, you sniffed and bent over the director’s desk, your skirt lifting up and exposing your panties to him as you did so.

“Y/N… You are such a naughty girl,” He said, shaking his head with discontent. However, you could perceive a tint of excitement in his tone. He seemed to genuinely enjoy the whole situation. Mr. Cruise’s grin could not help but stretch further at the sight of the wet spot on the fabric of your panties. He could almost smell your arousal from here, and it was slowly driving him crazy.

“The Devil is in you, I knew it.”

You squealed, for you felt his fingertips brushing your intimate part above your soaked underwear, “So wet…”

You bit your lips, almost choking with shame.

“He makes you mind buzzing with impure thoughts, and you are listening to them.” When he decided he had petted your pussy enough, he pressed his fingers right where your plug was. A feverish and slutty moan escaped from your lips.

“Do you want a man to fuck you, Y/N?”

“N-No, Sir!”

“Little liar,” He growled and his fingers hooked your panties’ fabric to slowly pull it down along your legs. Eyes wide open, your body remained frozen with both terror and intense arousal at the sensation of the room’s fresh air caressing your exposed sensitive folds. No matter how hard you tried, your brain could not get over the fact you were bending over your director’s desk, your pussy in sights , “ You’re such a whore… A whore that needs to feed her greedy cunt even during my class. You should be ashamed.” Something in his voice made you wetter: he was lecturing you, but his breath had become a bit erratic. Now you were convinced he was as turned on as you. A quick look was enough for you to notice the huge bulge between his legs. His cock twitched, hypnotized by the wonderful sight of your glistening lips and your filled hole.

“Confess, or I’ll expose you to the whole school so that they know what a slut you are.

“I-I want to be filled!” You blurred out, desperate.

“Tell me more.”

“I don’t know why, Sir, but I have these constant disgusting urges since I arrived here. My dreams are filled with perverse images, and I wake up in the middle of the night sweaty and soaked with love juice,” As you talked, Mr. Cruise watched the plug move inside your tight walls.

“This is a very serious matter, Y/N.”

“I tried to resist but I crave sex so bad, Sir… I am so sorry!! I won’t do it anymore, I swear I’ll throw this toy away and I’ll behave! But please don’t tell the others!!”

“Hm.” He simply replied, thrilled with arousal and starting to feel too tight in his pants.

Following a serious accident that had happened years ago, Mr. Cruise turned to God and gave up his debauchery to live closer to purity. But when you arrived at St. Helena, you shook all the foundations he had spent the last years building. He who was certain to be immune to sin soon found himself jerking off every night thinking about you, his oh-so-young student. With your perfect curves and your mischievous pout, you swept away his self-control and corrupted his holy heart to the core with obscene urges since the first day he met you.

Mr. Cruise’s senses were overwhelmed: his eyes could not look away from your dripping cunt and the plug. His nose was deliciously assaulted by the faint smell of your perfume. His ears were lulled by your shy whimpers. His mouth was watering at the simple thought of licking your forbidden fruit — and his hands, oh how he wanted them to spank the Devil out from you with them!

Keeping a bit of self-control, he swallowed and brought his hand near your entrance to softy grab the plug’s edge between his fingers.

“Are you virgin, my dear?”

“Y-Yes Sir, I am.”

“So you don’t even know what it feels to have your fragile flower pounded and your inside filled with warm semen?”

Fire rushed to your cheeks and loins at his words, as if your whole body begged for someone to fill every of its hole. Your fingers clenched on the wooden desk, “No I don’t, Sir.”

“Good,” Without the slightest warning, the teacher pulled the toy out of your pussy. An exciting suction noise echoed in the room. This, added to the surprise, caused you to moan louder and wave your hips, asking for more. As soon as he relieved the tension in your walls, glistening love juice flowed from your stretched hole like magical water from the fountain of Youth. Mr. Cruise moistened his lips with his tongue, drooling over the sweet taste of you, “there, love. There…” He whispered with a caring tone, his free hand gently stroking your lips and, sometimes, he pressed the tip of one finger against your hole for it to just drip even more.

At this point, you had to bite your tongue not to beg him to fuck you.

“I’ll keep your misbehavior for myself. Let’s say it will be our little secret,” He started.

You sighed, half reassured even though the shame was still burning your cheeks. The sensation of Mr. Cruise petting your virgin cunt, his fingers grazing your sensitive flesh, and his thumb massaging your swollen clit blissed you out. Mouth half opened, head slightly tilted backward, and eyes shut, you were starting to get dizzy.

“Under one condition,” He grinned, satisfied with the reaction his touch provided you.

“Sir!” You whined as he slipped one finger into you.

“I’ll keep my tongue but, in exchange, I want you to keep that slutty sex toy buried deep in your innocent pussy during each of my lessons.” His words melt like butter. As he talked, he slipped a second finger and started massaging your pulsing walls with back-and-forth movements. Your body answered by arching your back and spreading your legs even wider. Drool dripped from the corner of your lips. This was so humiliating and exciting at the same time you could not resist moving your hips on his fingers, lingering for more and more.

“Y-Yes Sir! Owww more, please Sir!”

But Mr. Cruise pulled out his fingers, doing the exact opposite.

“Enough for today,” He brought his glistening fingers to his mouth and, eager to taste you, he licked your juice from his skin, humming with joy as he did, “Now take your plug back, and go take a shower. Dinner will be served soon, and people will ask questions if they don’t see you there.”

You stood on your shaking legs: he had turned you into a dirty and soaked mess. With an ashamed hand, you leaned to pick your panties up but his hand brutally slapped your butt cheeks. You squealed, half in surprise and half in pain. His lips quirked in a sadistic smirk.

“Hurry up.” He concluded before you left the office with your head down and your pussy dripping. You closed the door behind you and disappear into St. Helena’s dark corridors, sin weighting on your shoulders.

Your twice-your-age teacher just fingered you and you liked it. So much that you’d die for him to do it again. A shaky sigh escaped from your greedy lips, that wanted to taste his. Maybe he was right when he said that the Devil was inside you and everything you did.

And you were ready to embrace it if it meant to drive your teacher pussy drunk for you…

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Tag lists for Tom Cruise’s babies: @malavera @helloitstsyu @tomsf18 @moondustfairies

#tom cruise x reader #tom cruise #tom cruise smut #tom cruise x female reader #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell x reader #tom cruise fic #pete mitchell x you #tom cruise x you #ethan hunt #tom cruise fanfic #tc fic #tom cruise one shots

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tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years

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There are Exceptions

(Part 2 of There Are Rules)

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

A/N: Not sure why this was suppressed from search the first time around. Trying again, this time without the tag list because I don't want to spam you guys.

Summary: Your Top Gun instructor continues to condemn your reckless behavior - this time out of the cockpit - while simultaneously being drawn to you against his better judgement.

CW: age gap (20-25 years), angst, swearing, some fluff, fairly mature content so please read at your own discretion. I'm gonna say this is a mature read just to be safe, not really sure where the line is, y'all.

WC: 2000+

Twenty minutes after your encounter with Maverick in the locker room, you walk into the debriefing room to find Cyclone pacing back and forth in front of the whiteboard with his hands in his pockets. When he sees you, he shoots you a stern look before shaking his head and turning away in disgust. You glance at Maverick who is standing to the side, watching you uneasily.

“Tell me what she’s still doing here,” Cyclone says through gritted teeth.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Maverick responds resolutely.

Cyclone looks over at Maverick sharply. “Excuse me?”

Maverick reciprocates his unyielding expression. “She made a mistake. I’ve already spoken with her.”

“You’ve spoken with her?” Cyclone raises his eyebrows in astonishment.

You make your way further into the room, waiting for an opportunity to communicate your version of events. Your call to land your aircraft despite unilateral engine failure was not a mistake, and you intend to voice that opinion.

“It’s my decision,” Maverick says, eyeing you grimly. “And my decision is that she stays.”

Cyclone watches Maverick bitterly. “Get her out of my sight,” he says dangerously.

Maverick’s gaze remains fixed on you as you let out a sigh, prepared to defend your actions. Maverick shakes his head slightly, cautioning you against it, so you press your lips together forcefully. Fighting to keep your anger at bay, you salute your superiors and proceed to storm out of the room before you could make the situation worse.

…

You head out into the parking lot in a fury without even checking to see if perhaps Maverick has followed you out. You toss your bag into the backseat and slam the door so hard that your car shakes. You start the engine just as Maverick steps out of the building, glancing around. Putting the car into drive, you hit the gas aggressively, pulling out of your parking spot with excessive momentum. He watches you wearily as you speed past him and you see him shaking his head and heading for his bike at a run in your rear-view mirror.

You find yourself hardly caring how he feels about your theatrics. You’re so furious that you know you’re not thinking clearly. If your rage makes your driving reckless, then so be it. You swerve between the sluggish cars, cursing every driver for not getting out of your way fast enough. Behind you, Maverick is following suit, so you clench your jaw and push down on the gas pedal, pulling a sharp turn at the intersection.

Two seconds later, you see Maverick appear on your left, signaling with his arm for you to pull over. You obstinately look straight ahead, ignoring him. You don’t want to see his stupid face any more than you want to go back to Top Gun and see Cyclone’s. You can’t tell if you’re more pissed off that Maverick walked out of the locker room before the two of you could resolve whatever the fuck it was that happened, or that he let Cyclone dismiss you without even giving you a chance to stick up for yourself. Either way, you’re not in the mood to be chewed out for a third time in one day.

You glance over at him again, noticing that he’s yelling something at you from the neighboring lane. You look back at your speedometer and realize that you’re going 30 miles over the speed limit. You let out a frustrated sigh and ease your pressure on the gas, letting the car slowly decelerate. You pull off to the side of the road, a cloud of sand lifting off the shoulder as you hit the breaks. Maverick pulls up right in front of you and hops off his bike before you’ve even unbuckled your seat belt.

He walks around the front of your car and slams his palm on the hood. “Do you have a death wish?” he yells so loudly that you hear him even with the window rolled up.

You stare at him mutely through the windshield as his jacket flaps in the breeze. The wind is messing up his hair and flattening his t-shirt against his abdomen and you’re irritated that you find him attractive even when you’re this mad. He’s in his aviators so you can’t see his eyes, but he looks livid; his jaw is tight, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

He steps around the side mirror, leaning down to peer into your window. “Open the door,” he orders.

You give him a flat look and turn away, so he knocks on the window.

“Y/N,” he calls. “I’m not leaving until you open the door.”

You sigh, wondering what he wants from you now, considering where you left things not even an hour prior. His knuckles rap on the window again and you look over at him coldly. Maverick takes off his sunglasses, hooking them into the neck of his t-shirt, and his eyes betray his concern despite the hard set of his jaw.

“Are you okay?” he asks through the window.

The fact that he’s concerned enrages you. How dare he presume to care now? Yet his troubled tone paired with the agonized lift of his eyebrows weakens your already volatile composure. You feel the sting of tears behind your eyes and you shut them tightly trying to hold back every last one. You turn away from the window, lowering your gaze.

Maverick leans his head into the glass, trying the door again even though he knows you haven’t unlocked it. “Talk to me, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, knowing that sooner or later you’ll have to face him again. You reach for the lock and, the moment it clicks, Maverick pulls the door open. You’re still not looking at him, however, because you’re too busy trying to neutralize the sudden onset of emotion, a condition with which you’re not too often afflicted. Your efforts fall short as several tears escape, dropping into your lap.

“Hey,” Maverick says, lowering himself into a crouched position by the side of your car. “Hey,” he repeats, laying a hand on your leg. “Please don’t,” he says, curling his fingers around the hand in your lap. “Don’t cry,” he whispers.

You lick your lips, glancing down at him with eyes full of tears, and his tortured expression crumbles further.

“Y/N,” he whispers, lifting his hand up to cup your cheek. He moves his thumb under your eye, catching a tear.

You let out a small sigh, leaning your face into his hand. Maverick furrows his brows, trying to mask the look of longing on his face. He pulls on your hand that’s still firmly in his grasp and brings it to his brow as he lowers his head.

“What do I do here, Y/N?” he mutters. “Tell me what to do.”

You have a few ideas but you decide to keep them to yourself. He’s too stubborn to listen to anybody but himself anyway.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry that I crossed the line today.”

It seems impossible that words could elicit this much hurt, and yet his words inflict an agony you’ve never experienced. Your only solace is that he looks just as broken as you feel.

Your extremely competent, confident instructor is falling apart right before your eyes and you’ve never wanted him more because it’s you who’s affected him in this way. You pull your hand back, taking his with it, and he glances up at you defeatedly. You twist your fingers out of his grasp and place your hand on the wheel. “I should go,” you say, wiping your face resolutely.

He nods, grabbing the door and lifting himself up. He sighs, glancing in either direction before patting the roof of your car. “Go slower,” he requests.

You let out a wry chuckle. “That’s not my style.”

Maverick shakes his head with a grim expression. “Please, don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re indestructible.”

You stare ahead at his bike a few feet away from your car. “Where’s your helmet, Captain?”

Maverick scoffs, a smirk materializing on his face. He nods, pursing his lips. “I am a terrible role model,” he admits.

“Kind of an unfortunate trait considering your profession,” you note.

Maverick laughs, lowering his head to peek into your car. “I’ll get a helmet if you slow down,” he offers.

“Not like you to play it safe,” you say, a hint of disappointment in your tone.

He sighs. “There are road rules for a reason.”

“Again with the rules,” you say rolling your eyes.

He watches you quietly for a moment and you know you’ve hit a nerve. “Some rules don’t have exceptions,” he says.

You meet his gaze. “And others?”

Maverick’s expression darkens. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N,” he says, and pushes off the car with a heavy sigh, shutting your door.

You watch him walk back to his bike, his jacket flapping in the wind. He stands there for a moment, staring at the seat somberly. He hesitates for several seconds, then lifts his gaze to look at you through your windshield. He shakes his head slightly and sets his jaw, glancing upward as though he’s cursing whatever higher power has made him feel the way he does about you. His mouth twitches and, as though he’s made a split-second decision, he’s suddenly turning back, stuffing his keys into his pocket as he marches toward your car.

You stare at him in shock as he pulls your door open forcefully. The next moment, he’s ducking his head into your car. His mouth is clamped shut as he tries to compose himself, but he’s breathing so forcefully, his chest is heaving with each inhalation. His eyes are sweeping over your face with such ferocity that it feels obscene in the most amazing way. His jaw remains taut as his face hovers just out of reach, and you want more than anything to pull yourself closer, to kiss away the worried crease between his eyebrows.

He releases another heavy sigh, his hand sinking into your thigh. “If you think that this has been easy for me,” he says steadily. “That your face, your voice” – he inhales slowly – “your smell has given my mind a moment’s respite, you’re wrong.”

His other hand finds its way up your neck, curving around the back of your head. You shudder as his thumb brushes over your lips, nearly vibrating with desire. You want to ask him why he’s fighting it if you’ve been occupying his thoughts as much as he has been yours. But all that escapes your mouth is a hollow gasp as his thumb pulls down your lower lip, parting it from the top.

“First day of your training, you walked in with your hair down,” he says. “You stood at your desk, twisting it back up before taking your seat, pen between your teeth. You were laughing at something and I” – he closes his eyes for a moment – “I was gone. I knew it right then.”

You gulp down what feels like a solid bubble of air because your mouth is so dry. “Captain Mitchell,” you say quietly. His hand tightens on your thigh at the words. “I was standing because I wanted you to notice me.”

Maverick’s gaze softens, his mouth curving upward in a warm smile as he watches you fondly. “Oh, I noticed you,” he says ruefully. His gaze dips to your mouth as his thumb continues sweeping across your lip.

You pray that he kisses you soon because otherwise you might just erupt in flames right under the midday sun. “I noticed you too, Captain,” you breathe over the tip of him thumb.

Maverick groans slightly, inclining further into the car as the side of his head comes to rest on your forehead. With his eyes closed, he rolls his face slightly, until his nose connects with yours. “Good god, I want you.”

The words ignite something inside of you and you reach out to grasp a handful of his t-shirt and pull him forward. Maverick comes willingly, his mouth crashing into yours as his knee lands on the seat between your legs. His hand drops to squeeze your shoulder on its way down to support you as you lean back over the console.

Maverick catches your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling on it gently as you let out a soft moan. His hand moves higher up your thigh until you can feel a soft pressure between your legs. His tongue drifts along your jawline as he kisses your face on his way to your ear and then down your neck. You let out a whimper when his hand starts gently stroking you over your jeans. Maverick opens his mouth over your neck, bathing your skin with his hot breath. “What I am doing?” he whispers, his grip tightening on your leg.

“Please, Maverick,” you pant, grabbing a larger chunk of his t-shirt to keep him in place. “Don’t stop.”

You feel another gentle kiss on your neck. “Couldn’t if I wanted to,” he replies breathlessly.

Part 3

A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it :D I may be adding one more part to this story so you can look out for that in the near future!

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mitchellpete · 1 year

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Kinktober Day 6 - Cockwarming

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x f!reader

cw: instructor!mav, student x teacher relationship, power imbalance, angst if you squint?, age gap, office sex, oral sex (m receiving), penetration, cockwarming

word count: 1875

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

It takes Maverick about a minute to notice you standing in the doorway to his office. He’s swamped with paperwork, his pen nearly running out of ink at the scrabbling he’s been doing the past couple of hours. It seems you’d both ended up with irritable days, hence the reason you found yourself here in the first place.

It was late, thank God, and no one was really around anymore and you really didn’t feel like leaving base and spending the rest of the evening sulking alone at home. You knew that Captain Mitchell was staying in late, knew that if you didn’t wander in to see him, you might not see him at all over the next couple of days.

It was a bad habit he had. He gave you too much space.

“Lieutenant,” he greets you now, a small smile curving the end of his mouth at the sight of you.

You ignore his propriety, stepping inside and shutting the door behind you. You try to match his smile. “Hi, Mav.”

He immediately drops the act. Eyes darting from you to the closed door, he asks in a hushed voice, “What are you doing?”

You approach his desk, your failed smile replaced by a frown. You want to hug him. You want him to hug you, you mean. To make it all better. You’re not sure how to ask for that, though.

“Just wanted to see you,” you say instead, curious hands reaching for the objects on his desk.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he takes each object from your hands, placing them back in their spot as you move them. “I’ve got a lot of work to do, sweetheart.”

Your heart sinks a little at the rejection, and he seems to notice the disappointment cross your face.

“Come here,” he says then, beckoning you over with a single nod.

You step behind the desk and into his space, leaning down to meet him for a kiss. It’s risky; you didn’t lock the door and the blinds aren’t fully shut, but the kiss lasts maybe two seconds. It’s fine.

Mav smiles and looks up at you with a soft glint in his eyes, the one that reads I’ll see you soon, okay? It’s the look he gives you every time he sneaks out of your house, or drops you off. You’ve started to dread it. There’s so much uncertainty that comes with it. Every single time you see him after that affectionate look, he’s just your instructor again. The affection is gone and you’re never sure when it’ll return. It doesn’t matter how much you ache for him.

Boy, how badly you ache for him now. A kiss is never enough.

You’re almost going to swallow your pride and leave his office, seemingly satisfied with the one little kiss, until your eyes land on his lap. Then at his paperwork, then at the door.

He cocks an eyebrow, curious.

Fuck. You slowly stride over to the door, battling with your choices, but decide you have no intention of leaving.

“Wh–” Maverick sits up straight at the sound of the door locking, and then watches as you move towards the windows to start shutting the blinds all the way. “What are you doing?”

“I wanna try something,” you say confidently, like he already gave you permission.

“Try something?”

“Mhm.” You shut the last set, take a step back to make sure they’re all closed and then turn your attention to him again. “Blinds shut, door locked. I think you’ve left for the day.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. He drops his pen instead, tilting his head as he tries to figure out what it is you’re planning.

He sort of gets an idea when he notices your eyes scanning his side of the desk.

“Baby, I do have a lot of work to do.”

You smile. “And if I promise you won’t get your hands dirty? At all?”

Mav chuckles, shakes his head like it’s the most absurd idea he’s ever heard. It might be, you think, but it’s something you can pull off. The door is locked, after all.

“I think we’d be really stupid if we tried,” he admits, though his smile doesn’t falter.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you reiterate. “I just want to sit there. You can continue working.”

It’s like he opens his mouth to protest again, but then his lips press together instead, and he beckons you toward him with a nod like before.

Excitement fills you as he scoots his chair back to grant you access.

It’s hard to get on your knees in the cramped space underneath the desk, so you have to urge Mav to move his chair back with a gentle push to his legs. He complies, does his best to make as much room for you as he can. You find that you’re sort of shaky when your fingers pry at the button on his jeans, so he helps you with that, too. The position is slightly ridiculous, the chair a little higher than it should be, so you end up on your haunches when you pull his cock out of his briefs, and then sort of yank his garments down with your other hand for easier access.

His eyes are still nervously peering at the closed blinds, making sure there aren’t any shapes or sounds coming from behind them, but you ease his worries when you take his shaft into your mouth. There’s no time to prolong this, so you get right to it; you take him in as much as you can, using a hand to stroke him at the same time. His knuckles are white from gripping the arms of his chair as he hardens in your mouth. Stifled groans leave his lips, filthy wet ones coming from yours.

He throws his head back in silent satisfaction when you swirl your tongue around the tip, and accidentally groans out loud when you dip your head and trace your tongue down, and then back up his frenulum.

The noise he makes reminds you that you’re not supposed to make him cum here, that this is something different, and you pull back after a minute or so. Maverick is biting down hard on his lip, watches as you stand up off your haunches and immediately work your pants off. He shifts in his seat, positions himself as best he can for you.

With your pants completely off and kicked aside, you grab onto his shoulders and mount yourself atop his lap. Hovering above him, you reach down to grab him and line yourself up with him the best you can; usually he would do that for you but you did promise he wouldn’t have to get his hands dirty.

“No moving,” you prompt, exhaling softly at the feel of his tip against your slit.

You whimper at the stretch—it stings just a little from lack of foreplay—but gradually sink onto him little by little. You let your body accommodate him, feel yourself growing wetter around him before you sink any lower. He tenses up, tries to minimize his reaction by gritting his teeth. The long groan that leaves his mouth is inevitable when you fully slip onto his lap, his cock buried inside you to the hilt. Christ, this is gonna be harder than you thought.

He seems to think so too, as his grip around your waist tightens slightly. “Sweetheart, I don’t—I don’t think this is such a good idea,” he groans.

“Just get back to work,” you whisper, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

His hands leave your waist to resume his task, but his breathing remains heavy near your ear. You relax into him, face buried in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. You’ve got your hug. This is all you wanted today.

Maverick scoots his chair forward as best he can, picks up his pen and shuffles through his papers.

You try not to clench around him, a very difficult problem when he scoots forward slightly a second time, his balls rubbing up into your clit. You try to focus on something else, on his scent, past him at the frames on the wall, on the bits of light coming in through the blinds.

A minute passes.

Two minutes pass.

Three, and Mav still hasn’t touched pen to paper yet, clearly dazed by the situation. His eyes skim over the words he’s already written instead, trying to give his brain an idea on where to get started again.

He wants to move very badly. It’s a terrible itch he needs to scratch.

He starts to think that this is maybe a form of torture. You try not to think much of it, try to pretend this is the hug you were here for, and it sort of works. Sort of. His cock prods at a very delicious spot inside you the more he begins to shift his hips, and it becomes harder and harder to stay still.

It’s when you hear his pen drop and roll across the desk that you realize Maverick is not so fond of your idea. Get back to work how, he must be thinking, and God, you hope he’s not frustrated that this whole ordeal probably just set him back.

If he is, he doesn’t show it, instead wrapping his arms around you and inadvertently rolling his hips underneath you. You gasp, taken by sudden surprise, clasping a hand over your mouth when his hips jerk a second time.

“Mav,” you whisper. “I said—fuck, I said no moving.”

He scoffs, bows his head to lazily kiss at your collarbone. “You’re killing me. I’ll never go back to work like this.”

You bite back a moan. “I promised you wouldn’t get your hands dirty. I just wanted to sit he–”

He shuts you up with a sharp, fully intended snap of his hips. His arms drop to cup the bottom of your thighs, and neither of you care anymore after the first stroke. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room and it’s hard not to make any additional noise, suppressing your moans into little whines instead. Maverick starts fucking into you as if it were the first time, as if he’d never felt something so good before.

Neither of you last very long.

Maverick’s thrusts get sloppy when you’re both seconds away, his tiring pace beginning to stumble. He’s smart enough to take you in for a deep kiss when you both cum at the same time, your quiet, high-pitched noises trapped in between your mouths. He continues kissing you through your unplanned orgasm, tongue licking against yours.

When he pulls back, you’re both panting heavily, savoring the glow.

He helps you off of him eventually. Your legs are a little sore and shaky, and you clumsily stumble back against his desk. Maverick’s good reflexes prevent your fall, an arm around your waist, and you avoid landing on his messy stack of paperwork. You can’t help but snicker at how absurd this really was.

Maverick, on the other hand, has a smirk on his face at the sight of you propped over his desk.

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livelovecaliforniadreams · 1 month

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#when i tell you i started sobbing #im not crying you are #maverick x goose #Tom Cruise #Pete Mitchell #Top Gun: Maverick #top gun #Anthony Edwards #Miles Teller #rooster #movie #movies #filmedit #filmedits #my heart

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warnersister · 25 days

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I Remember Everything

bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x mitchell!reader

Inspired by the song ‘I Remember Everything’ by Zach Bryan -> you and Bradley were only together back then to piss off your dad.. right?

Flashbacks & song lyrics in italics

top gun masterlist

“What can I get ya?” You ask, back turned to the patron but you could feel their expectant presence behind you. “Rotgut whiskey's gonna ease my mind” your breath hitched in your throat as you recognised the voice, pivoting to the voice you used to yearn for just to comfort your own sanity. “Bradley.”

Yourself and Bradley went way back. Back further than you wanted to admit. You started fraternising with him when you were freshly eighteen, pissed off at your father, Pete Mitchell. And as president of the ‘Pete-Mitchell-Hatred Club’, Bradley was more than happy to oblige. He himself was 25, finally managing to begin his naval training without any support of his surrogate uncle, and he’d just dumped you in California and fucked off to the dessert for annoying some admiral, leaving you with Penny despite your argument that you were old enough now to make your own decisions.

Bradley was at a two month station at top gun, not to train; no he wasn’t at that stage in his naval aviation training yet, but to boost morale and promote dog-fighting initiative amongst the new recruits. To throw them in at the deep end and put them up against the best.

You knew the two of them didn’t get along and you knew how your father yearned for a relationship with Bradley, so it was the perfect was to get under his skin in a way that would truly aggravate him. Being with Bradley.

At first, the reason Bradley even entertained your behaviour because he knew how it would get to maverick and how, realistically, Maverick had absolutely no say in what you did anymore. Because you were an adult making your own choices, and he surrendered any parental ties on Bradley when he withdrew his papers. It was a win-win situation as far as he was concerned, that was until he really started to fall for you.

It was a hot day in mid-July and Bradley had a day off so he opted to spend it with you, honking his horn twice in his Bronco, right outside Maverick’s house as you came running out and your dad shouted after you - regardless of the fact you were always in the passenger seat. You made it to the beach but ended up in Bradley’s military accommodation, as per usual. He watched the way your hair whipped as you observed passers-by, in nothing but a bikini as your beach towel rests on the dryin’ line.

He approached you and rested his head on your shoulder, hands on your hips as he followed your eye-line to where you were watching a couple of golden-coast born boys playing volleyball on the beach.

“Do I remind you of your daddy in his ‘88 Ford?” He asked as you handed him his whiskey from across the bar. You scoffed. “You were like a Labrador hanging out the passenger door” he continued, reminiscing on the way you used to hang your body half out of the window to feel the humid breeze against your skin, a panicked Bradley with his knuckles going white as his fingers grasped at the loop holes of your worn denim shorts to keep you in the vehicle.

The sand from your hair was blowing in his eyes. He’d blame it on the beach, grown men don’t cry. He knew what you wanted out of this: a bit of fun, a dig at your father. And he knew that he shouldn’t be feeling the way he did, a sense of growing adoration for you and your company. Your constant sleep overs and loving attention.

“Do you remember that beat down basement couch?” He asked after the silence and for the first time since you looked at him, you smiled. “God I loved that thing, of course I do Brad” you say in an almost accidentally small voice. “I'd sing you my love songs and you'd tell me about how your mama ran off and pawned her ring” you nodded “I remember,” you began with a steady inhale “I remember everything.”

You worked at the hard deck over the summer while you waited on news from the colleges you’d applied to, Bradley always overstaying his welcome despite you giving a cold shoulder at closing time, before he’d approach you and manage to coax you away from the bar for the evening.

“You were begging me to stay 'til the sun rose” you remembered with a grin, thinking back on all the times you’d given into him. Bradley could hardly muster any sort of words, unable to string a sentence together as he realised you really did appreciate his first summer in North Island; strained words come on out of a grown man's mouth when his mind's broke. Thinking of the pictures and passing time, all these years apart. He wondered if you were married now, if the hard deck was what you actually did for work, if you had a man, a child, a life without him, before you broke the silence with your realisation. “You only smile like that when you're drinking” you tell his dopey grin. “I wish I didn't, but I do… remember every moment on the nights with you” he tells you.

You begin to wipe down the counter, questioning his reiterative choice of beverage. “You're drinkin' everything to ease your mind?” You asked, rhetorically. “But when the hell are you gonna ease mine?” He retorted in question and you creased your brows. He peered around the bar, it still technically closed, being only 4pm, but you couldn’t deny Bradley entrance. Not after your history together. Acknowledging that there was nobody else, he took it in his stride to zip around the bar to you, trapping you against the bar and leaning closer, you could smell the Rotgun whiskey on his mouth. “You're like concrete feet in the summer heat” he tells you with a shake of his head, laughing sarcastically as he throws his head back “It burns like hell when two souls meet”.

You look up at him and trace his moustache with your thumbs, hands cupping his chiselled jaw. “No, you'll never be the man that you always swore” you tell him, reminding him that he was nothing like your father, but you nod to the familiar Bronco in the parking lot “but I'll remember you singin' in that '88 Ford”, you smile.

“Are you gonna give me a cold shoulder at closing time?” He asked “are you gonna be begging me to stay ‘til the sun rose?” You ask in response. “You of all people know that strained words come on out of a grown man's mouth when his mind's broke” he whispers, moving to bury his head between your collar and jaw. “I still think about the pictures and passing time” you tell him, threading your hands into his hair.

You feel his brows raising “what? So I wasn’t just a way to get back at your daddy?” He asked and you shook your head. “What? I thought I was a way for you to get back at him. No, you were everything to me Bradley. Everything. You just happened to be there when I wasn’t getting along with Mav” you tell him and he takes his head from the crevice of your neck to give you a boyish smile as he realises after all this time, his feelings were always requited. “You only smile like that when you're drinking” you tell him. “I wish I didn't, but I do remember every moment on the nights with you” you tell him and he creases his brows.

“Now why’re you tryna forget me, honey?” He asked, nose almost pressed against your own. Almost. “Well you’re probably married now, kids, job, everything.” You say meekly. “And I never moved on.” His breath caught in his throat. “Darlin, I ain’t married. Ain’t got no kids or anything, no girl, no nothing. I never got over you” he tells you. “No one was ever as good as you Brad, no one made me feel the way you made me feel” you tell him as he inches dangerously close.

“Well can I give you something to take the edge off, princess?” He asks, eyes meeting yours after fleeting between them to your lips for the past few moments. “Rotgut whiskey's gonna ease my mind” you tell him as he finally leans into close the gap between the both of you, tasting the bitter sweetness on his tongue and the smell of the liquor on his moustache.

You pull away and become acutely aware of how he’s only in his swim shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, as his beach towel rests on the drying line. “Do I remind you of your daddy in my '88 Ford?” He asks as he leans his forehead against yours and you nod, with a jokingly “Labrador hangin' out the passenger door.”

“Why’re you still in North Island, sugar? Still working the Hard Deck?” He questions as he nips your neck with his teeth. You stop him and pull his head from where it was taunting against your sight. You hold his head in your hands as you shake your head with a serious look crossing your face. “Bradley I’m only helping Penny clean up. I’m stationed here for the foreseeable.” You say, as the obvious dawned on him. He hadn’t seen you since that summer before you started college “you’re in the navy?” He asked “aviator.” You replied and he grinned to pick you up and sling you over his shoulder as you yelp with surprise.

“Bradley! What are you doing?” You ask with a breathless laugh. “Got a lot to catch up on, sugar.” He tells you as you approach his Bronco. “How about an all night revival?”

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icemankazansky · 2 years

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Top Gun + Lucky Number Slevin

#top gun #top gun: maverick #lucky number slevin #incorrect top gun #incorrect top gun quotes #incorrect icemav quotes #icemav #iceman x maverick #top gun og #top gun 1986 #language warning #dick jokes #tom cruise #maverick mitchell #val kilmer #iceman kazansky #lucky number slevin is in my top ten favorite movies of all time and if you haven't seen it why #my gifs

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kyber-crystal · 1 year

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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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sluttyhenley · 1 year

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I’m coming with you.

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE - FALLOUT dir. Christopher McQuarrie (2018)

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haloabove · 4 months

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I’ve spent the last 4 days only watching all of the mission impossible movies and now im finished im lost on what to watch

#mission impossible #tom cruise #ethan hunt come home i love you x

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rooster-the-love-of-my-life · 7 months

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Hey! I was wondering if I could request something angsty and fluffy with Maverick. Maybe Mav and the reader having a very tender romantic moment somewhere in public and then the reader’s friends casually see them and recognize the reader and the start making rude comments about Mav and their age gap but the reader comforts Mav and tells him that she loves him and she doesn’t want anyone else:) it’s fine if you don’t want to! Thanks!

Hello, my love. I am so so so so so sorry for replying a lifetime late. I just wasn't feeling it and tbh i didn't even see this ask till like a few minutes ago. So a) thank you for asking b) i'm sorry for being so late and c) enjoy!!!

"I don't care what they think or say about you Mav. I love you and you love me, that is all we'll ever need." You tried to reassure him, tell him everything is alright but it just wasn't working.

You had gone out for a date to a small restaurant just outside the base, hoping to catch a few private moments, when you noticed a few of your friends were also there. You were about to go up to them and say hi but while approaching them you heard somethings you were never meant to hear.

"Did you see how old he looks?" One of them whispered as the rest nodded their heads and added further.

"I know she's not with him for the money, he's a captain foe god's sake, how much can they make anyway?"

"And she's defiantly not with him for the sex. I'm sure grandpa can't even get it up. God knows why she's with him."

All of the giggled like high school girls, continuing to make fun of you and your boyfriend. This was nothing new to you, they had expressed their disapproval of your boyfriend and his age many time before. But what really hurt you was that he had heard what they were sying about him as well.

After that, you both finished you dinner and started to go back home. The silence in the car was deafening, you could see on his face, what the said had hurt, but you didn't know what to say to him. Upon reaching home, he quickly went to the bathroom, still not saying another word and locked himself there for a long time before finally coming out.

"Mav, I'm so sorry for what they said." You started, jumping up on your feet the moment he came out. "I didn't think they could ever be so mean. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." He whispered softly, sitting down on your bed.

"No, it's not. They shouldn't have been saying things like that. They're my friends, were my friends, and you are the man I love. They can't just disrespect you like that.'

"It's not really disrespecting when what they're saying is true." It broke your heart to see him like this.

"I don't care what they think about you. I love you and you love me, that's all we'll ever need."

"It's not enough is it?" He finally spoke after a long pause. "They're your friends and if they think all that stuff about me, god know what your family thinks."

"My family loves you Mav!" You argued. "I love you, I don't give a flying fuck what they think or don't think about you. At the end of the day, it's you who I love, it's you who I come home to, it's your who loves me. That is the truth, and that is all I'll ever need."

It took him some time to process what you had just said, not being used to so much love. After a while, he wrapped his arms around you waist, pulled you closer, buried his face in your neck and slowly whispered-

"I love you."

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@jkasperj@4margaritasalex @futurecorps3 @thisisgracetrying @clairejpg @fangirlinc @thespeeder @ashewontcare @jonginvlog @igotmajordaddyissues @herladyshipxx @m3laniehearts @exo-wayv @mayafatimakhan @starkleila @itscheybaby @spookycupcakepirate @dcamelia @americaa @paulina1998 @lgg5989 @datingbtr @thatchickwiththecamera @kanevill @dempy @saramaple @hockeyboysarehot @redhoodedtoad @nobody7102 @icemanslove @blake-tc-fan

#top gun #tom cruise #top gun maverick spoilers #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick #pete maverick mitchell #maverick mitchell #top gun: maverick #maverick x you #maverick x reader #tom crusie #tom cruise x reader #tom cruise x female reader

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worldofheroes · 6 months

Text

Escape

tom cruise x fem!reader

summary: you never thought your dog would be your wingman.

warnings: 18+, age gap, language, kissing, praise, protected sex

wc: 1.5k

a/n: based on a request by @joyce-stdt ! Sorry it took so long, hope the wait was worth it! ❤️❤️

“Jack!” you call out after your normally well-behaved dog. Something spooked him and he slipped out of his collar.

He starts to barrel towards the next person coming down the trail.

“Jack, here!”

The person down the trail somehow grabs Jack and holds on to his own dog.

“I am so sorry,” you say as you jog up to him.

“It’s no problem,” he smiles.

You slip Jack’s collar back on. “Thank you.”

“Seriously, no problem.”

“Thanks again, and have a good day,” you say, quickly leaving the awkward situation that you just made.

The next day, you run into the same man and dog.

“Hi there,” the man smiles.

You look over and realize it’s the same man from yesterday… and that the man is Tom Cruise. Living in LA for so long has made you indifferent to celebrity sightings and sometimes, well, they just go right over your head.

“Hi,” you smile back. “Thanks again for corralling this guy yesterday, I don’t know what happened.”

“Hey, no problem, it happens,” Tom smiles. “I’m Tom.”

You laugh awkwardly. “I realize that now.”

“Yeah, yesterday you seemed a little flustered,” Tom chuckles.

“I’m y/n,” you continue. “And this is Jack, but I guess my yelling yesterday told you that.”

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” Tom says, crouching down to pet Jack. “And nice to meet you, buddy.”

“Who you got with you?”

“Oh, this is Champ,” he tells you, giving Champ a pat on the head. “An old guy like me.”

“Oh, come on,” you smile, finally getting comfortable.

“Well, much older than you.”

“You sure don’t look it,” you tease him.

“Thank you very much, miss,” Tom teases back.

“Listen, I need to get going,” you say.

“I understand,” Tom says. He pauses a moment before he pulls out his phone and hands it to you. “I’d like to get your number… maybe our dogs could play together sometime…”

“Sure,” you agree, taking his phone and quickly entering your number.

“Great,” he says. “I’ll see you around.

“Sounds good,” you smile as you walk away from him.

The next day, the two of you run into each other again.

“Hi Tom,” you smile. “Hey Champ.”

“Hi y/n,” Tom smiles back. “And of course, hi Jack.”

“Third day in a row,” you say.

Tom chuckles. “I guess it’s a sign or something,” he trails off.

“What?”

“Listen, y/n, I’d really like to get to know you and talk more than we do with these brief encounters… I was wondering if you’d be interested in dinner at my place, tonight,” Tom says.

It takes you a moment to process what is happening. Is he really asking you out?

“Only if Jack can come too,” you tease, trying to keep it light.

Tom smiles. “Of course, Champ would love that.”

“What time?”

“How does 7 sound?”

“We can do 7.”

“Great, I’ll text you the address.”

“Sounds good, Tom,” you smile as the two of you part ways once again.

That night, you’re trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach as you get ready.

You keep it casual with jeans and a simple blouse.

You grab Jack’s leash and head to the address Tom texted you.

When you get there, you’re greeted by a huge gate. You press the call button.

“How can I help you?” a gruff voice says from the other end.

“I was invited here by Tom, my name is y/n y/l/n.”

“Yes, he has been expecting you.”

The gate buzzes and then opens for you and Jack. You make your way up the driveway to the big front door.

The door opens and Champ runs out to greet you and Jack.

“Hi, y/n,” Tom smiles. “Dinner just finished, come on in.”

You and Tom enjoy a nice dinner and have a couple glasses of wine each. After dinner, the two of you move to the couch and chat, unaware that both of you are moving closer to the other.

That is, until you’re inches apart.

“Tom,” you breathe.

“I have never met someone so genuine,” he says softly, gently raising a hand to stroke your cheek.

There’s a slight pause, and Tom closes the gap between you, his lips gently pressing against yours.

“Sorry,” Tom says, moving away.

“No,” you say, grabbing his arm. “That… was nice.”

Tom smiles. “I was afraid I was being too forward.”

“Not at all,” you reassure him with a smile.

This time, you lean in and kiss him. Tom gently pulls you onto his lap.

He gently guides the kiss deeper, and you happily oblige to his wishes. A small sigh escapes you as he caresses the back of your head.

“Why don’t we move this somewhere else,” Tom suggests, gently kissing the corner of your mouth.

You nod. He helps you off his lap and leads you to the bedroom.

Tom backs you to the bed, and you fall onto the plush mattress. He crawls over you and peppers your skin with open mouth kisses.

“Do you trust me?” Tom asks against your skin.

“Yes,” you whisper.

Tom hums happily and breaks from you to take his shirt off. You follow suit and take your own shirt off, tossing it to the floor with Tom’s.

“So beautiful,” Tom whispers as he leans in to kiss your body. He gently places a hand on your waist.

“Tom,” you sigh, arching your back.

“Good girl,” he praises as his hands start to move down your body to work at the button on your jeans.

Your grabby hands try to reach for anything, but Tom’s just out of reach. When his eyes meet yours, there’s a playful glint in them.

“I have an idea,” he says, abruptly moving away from you and the bed.

“What?” you ask.

He undoes his belt, pulling it from the belt loops.

You raise a brow at his move.

“If you get uncomfortable at all, please tell me,” he says as he crawls over your body.

“Okay,” you say with a nod, removing your bra in hopes it reads as confidence and not neediness.

Tom smiles and leans down to kiss you as he ties your hands up with his belt. He attaches it somehow to the headboard, and now you’re his to do as he pleases.

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this,” Tom mutters as he leans in to kiss your collarbone, slowly making his way to a breast.

He takes your nipple into his mouth, sucking at it as his other hand massages the other breast, tweaking at the nipple.

“Oh,” you gasp, trying not to squirm.

Tom smiles against your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, darling.”

“Please do,” you sigh.

Tom chuckles softly as he works on getting your jeans off.

He takes a swipe at your clothed, aching center with his fingers, making you buck. A pleased smile crosses Tom’s face.

“You make this too easy,” he chuckles as he pulls his own jeans and briefs down.

“I can’t help it,” you reply.

Tom grabs your panties and pulls them off in a swift movement. He crawls back over you, capturing your lips with his once again as he searches for a condom in the nightstand drawer.

He breaks contact only to open the condom and roll it down his shaft.

“I need to touch you,” you whine.

“You’ll get your chance,” he says as he lines himself up.

Tom gently pushes in, the stretch delicious. You whine as he helps you accommodate his size.

His brows knit together as he watches himself go deeper into you, soon all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck,” you continue to whine, squirming on the mattress.

“That’s a good girl,” Tom mutters, gently moving.

“Oh my god, this is torture,” you say, bucking your hips.

Tom chuckles. “You want more, pretty girl?”

You nod quickly, wanting more.

He leans down to kiss you passionately as he picks up his pace, leaving you gasping.

Your hands grip the belt around them, knuckles turning white as Tom slams into you. His moans in your ear turning you on further, making you go wild for him.

“Oh, please, I’m gonna cum,” you cry out.

“I know you are, baby,” Tom says into your ear, nibbling on it. “Let it happen.”

You soon reach your climax, vision going blurry as you let go, Tom right behind you. He slips your hands out of the belt and you throw them around his torso, gripping tightly.

Tom whispers praises in your ear as the two of you come down from your highs.

“Good girl,” he praises, removing himself from you and discarding the condom.

He lays back down on the bed, pulling you onto his chest, damp with sweat. You lazily pepper his skin with kisses.

“I usually don’t do this on a first date,” Tom chuckles.

You giggle. “I usually don’t either, but I’m so glad I did.”

“Me too,” Tom smiles.

#tom cruise x reader #tom cruise imagine #maverick x reader #requests #tom cruise x you

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oneofstarkskids · 5 months

Text

fresh out the slammer

pairings: steve randle x reader

summary: steve's gotten himself into trouble... again. but it's alright, cause he knows who his first call will be to.

a/n: not my usual fandom, but you can hardly blame me.

*not my gif*

you had planned for a quiet evening full of studying for an upcoming test, but when you're dating steve randle there is no such thing as a quiet evening. your rotary phone rang loudly from it's place on your desk, scaring you half to death.

you jumped up from your bed and reached for the device. breathlessly, you held it up to your face, "hello?"

on the other end was that charming voice, smooth as butter, "hey darlin'." you couldn't stop the smirk that tugged at your lips, and thank god he couldn't see it.

"steve jacob randle! do you know what time it is?"

steve chuckled on the other end, "yeah. sorry to bother you, sweets, but i need your help."

worry suddenly washed over you and your brain went through every possible scenario, "are you okay?"

steve thought it was cute how concerned you sounded, "i'm alright. i just need you to come pick me up."

you frowned. pick him up? steve had his own car, so why would he need to be picked up? "from where?" you asked curiously.

"me, dally and two-bit are kinda in the slammer..."

you were furious. why would this man think it would be a good idea to call you? he knew exactly what you thought of his talent to get himself in trouble.

nonetheless, you loved him. sometimes you wondered why. so, you made your way over to the curtis' place to tell sodapop what happened.

he wasn't all that surprised. he just grabbed his coat and you caught a ride with him over to the station.

soda filled out some paperwork as you talked to an officer. "no charges were pressed so bail's not an issue, but this will go on their records."

you gave him a tight lipped smile, "thank you, officer." he led you down the hall towards the holding cells.

dallas was sitting on the floor with one of his legs propped up, looking bruised and pissed off as ever.

two-bit, who hardly had a scratch, was standing against the wall with his arms crossed.

and then there was yours, standing the closest to the bars with an apologetic smile on his face as soon he saw you.

the officer unlocked the cell and the boys slowly walked out one by one. you didn't say anything, just gave them all a stern look and walked back the way you'd come.

they followed a bit behind, but steve hurried to catch up to you, "baby, i'm real sorry."

you tried to ignore him, but he was persistent, "not here, steve." by the time you guys had gotten back, soda had finished all the paperwork and you were free to go.

soda, two, and dally went straight to the car but you paused, "stevie and i are gonna walk home. thanks for the ride."

steve pouted, "but i'm tired." you shot him a glare. you were not going to put up with his whining right now.

soda nodded in acknowledgment and drove off with the others.

the two of you walked for a bit until you felt like you were far enough from the police station to kick his ass.

"what did you do this time?" you asked in annoyance. steve placed his hands on your arms, "it wasn't my fault, darlin'! those soc's were fixin' for a fight."

you scoffed, "then that's something you have in common."

steve shook his head, "wasn't like that. we were smoking outside the dingo and they roll up in their fancy mustangs with some kinda grudge."

steve wouldn't lie to you and you knew that, so it didn't take long for your anger to fizzle.

"i really wish you wouldn't get yourself in these situations," you sighed as you eyed his scrapes and bruises.

"you don't gotta worry about me. i can handle my own," he smirks and pulls you closer by your waist.

you rolled your eyes lovingly, "i know you can. sometimes i just wish you wouldn't."

steve shook his head, trying to understand what you meant, "and run away? no way. those stuck up soc's get what's comin' to them. i'm never gonna stop fighting, baby. i can't. not after everything they done."

and for a moment his macho exterior fades and you see the tears shimmering in his eyes.

"stevie, you know i love you, right?" you ask with a soft smile on your face.

he smiles back, but it quickly turns into a smirk, "does that mean i get a kiss?"

your laughter fills the night air, "not with that busted lip."

you turn to continue walking but steve, who now has a taste for revenge, comes running up behind you and swings you off your feet.

you helplessly protest so he puts you down, but he doesn't let you walk away just yet.

swiftly, he grabs your hand and spins you to face him before planting his lips on yours.

despite the fuss you had made, you kiss him back with just as much fervor.

as soon as the kiss is over his expression turns very serious, "i still can't believe you had soda leave us here to walk home."

he curses from the sting of your playful slap.

#fanfiction #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders fanfiction #fluff #so fucking cute #hes my babygirl #steve randle #tom cruise #steve randle x reader #steve randle x you #fresh out the slammer #ttpd #taylor swift inspired

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tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years

Text

Altitude - Chapter 9

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Mitchell Fem!OC

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x Fem!OC

Summary: Sydney is not a pilot. But she knows all their tricks. That's why, when she meets the smooth-talking Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, she's not falling for any of them. She's not falling for him, either.

CW: Love triangle, angst, marital conflict, mature dialogue and sexual references, slow burn

Start from the beginning: Part I

Amelia is leaning back in the barstool, the edge of the counter digging unpleasantly into her back. She’s not paying attention to the discomfort, however, because she’s busy observing Pete “Maverick” Mitchell in his element. He’s giving the group of aviators under his care a pep talk and, even though she can’t actually hear his speech, she can tell it’s at least half decent by the inspired looks on the officers’ faces.

Bob and Phoenix are still under medical observation but are expected to make a full recovery, which means they all have a lot to be thankful for.

Sydney is sitting in the lap of one of the officers – Hangman, she’d called him – and he’s got his arms wrapped around her. She watches her father with an grim expression and Amelia feels a pang of guilt considering she’s the one who might have instilled some of the animosity her daughter feels toward him.

Once Maverick is finished, a loud cheer erupts from the pilots’ table and they raise their glasses as Maverick turns back to the bar with a sheepish grin. He shakes his head, looking at Amelia, and she gives him a small smile. After the day he’s had, he deserves at least that.

He makes his way toward her, his expression a well-balanced mix of joy and apprehension.

“Hey,” he says, taking up the seat next to hers. He spins on the stool to face the bar.

Amelia leans away from the counter, glancing at his side profile as he knocks his knuckles on the polished surface, nodding at the bartender to get his attention.

“Your usual?” he asks.

Amelia takes a deep breath and then slowly releases it. “You know, I’m not overly thirsty.”

He looks at her with a smirk he tries to conceal by quickly pursing his lips. “You might be in the wrong place, then,” he says.

She nods. “Yeah, I was afraid of that,” she responds quietly.

Maverick lets out a sigh and, when the bartender arrives, he orders himself a gin and tonic, and then turns to Amelia. “For the lady,” he says, giving her a crooked smile, “Sex on the Beach, was it?”

She scoffs. “Yeah, Captain. In your dreams.”

Maverick laughs. “You’re right,” he responds, grinning back at the unimpressed bartender. “She’ll have a Long Island Iced Tea, please.”

“Actually,” Amelia says musingly once the bartender walks away. “Sex on the Beach sounds pretty good right about now.”

Maverick chuckles, shaking his head. “The ways you torment me, woman,” he says. “It’s a damn crime.”

“Do you want me to stop?” she asks innocently.

He glances at her. “Never,” he responds immediately.

Amelia’s eyebrows converge at the miserable look in his eyes and she feels instantly guilty for flirting back. She reminds herself that he started it, as always. But that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t have put a stop to it. She clears her throat. “Pete,” she starts.

Maverick groans. “Oh, please don’t call me that.”

Amelia’s shoulders slump. “Mav,” she says softly.

“Hm?” he hums, looking up at her tiredly, and she reaches out to place her hand on his knee.

“I’m not here to upset you. I’m certainly not here to torment you,” she continues. “But I’m also not here for you. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea or” –

“Or to get my hopes up,” Maverick finishes.

Amelia sighs, tearing her eyes away from his burning gaze. “If that’s what’s happening, then yes.”

Maverick shrugs. “I wasn’t.”

She nods, shooting him a brief glance. “Good.”

“Great,” he says.

“Perfect,” she agrees.

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says, an edge to his tone. He turns back in the barstool and her hand slips off his leg.

She looks up to see him glaring at the empty space ahead of him, his jaw set. Amelia decides to change the subject. She turns her back to the bar again. “Strange to see Sydney warming up to a bunch of pilots,” she says.

Maverick lets out a derisive laugh. “Are you worried?”

She gives him a sideways glance. “Are you not?”

Maverick just out his chin, looking displeased. “They’re a good bunch of kids,” he says, not looking at Amelia.

“Oh, I have no doubt,” she responds. Then, as an afterthought, she adds, “I just can’t imagine she would consider a serious relationship with a naval aviator after…” Her voice trails off.

“After?” Maverick asks pointedly.

“Well.” Amelia sighs. “After everything we went through with you” –

But Maverick starts chuckling bitterly before she can finish. “Everything you went through,” he repeats. “Everything you went through?” he asks incredulously, his voice rising.

Amelia rolls her eyes. “Okay, let’s not get into this here,” she says.

He nods. “Good idea,” he replies contemptuously.

Amelia breathes out sharply. “I don’t know why I’m here.” She shakes her head. “I can’t,” she says, rising from the stool. “I can’t do this.”

Maverick is still facing the bar, holding a fist firmly against his mouth. He doesn’t respond.

Amelia gives the back of his head a final, withering look, before she turns to leave. But before she can walk away, Maverick reaches back to catch her wrist. She looks at him as he lets her hand slip through his slackened grip until only her fingertips remain in his grasp. He’s watching her earnestly.

His lips are pressed together as though he’s fighting to keep them steady. “Stay,” he whispers. “Please.”

Amelia hesitates so Maverick wiggles her hand playfully.

“C’mon,” he says. “Look,” he adds, pointing to the bar. “Your drink is here.”

Amelia eyes the glass sweating onto the coaster atop the lacquered bar.

“Unless you still had your heart set on sex on the beach,” Maverick offers with a smirk. “Because the beach is that way.” He points toward the door leading to the shoreline.

Amelia rolls her eyes and Maverick pulls on her hand, bringing her closer.

He glances over her shoulder at his daughter and says, “I wouldn’t worry about Sydney. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

Amelia sighs, reclaiming her seat beside Maverick. “I’m not positive it’s her I’m worried about.”

Maverick follows Amelia’s gaze to Bradley, who is grimacing at Hangman as he dips Sydney after a particularly flashy dance number. “Ah,” Maverick says, nodding. He takes a sip of his drink and hisses.

“What’s he like?” Amelia asks.

Maverick lets out a heavy sigh. “Driven,” he responds after several moments. “Reliable. Very serious.”

Amelia frowns, watching Bradley brood at the table as Sydney and Hangman continue dancing after the song is over.

“Very much by the book,” Maverick continues. “Hates me.”

Amelia chuckles.

“It’s not funny,” Maverick says, but he’s got a small smile on his face when Amelia turns to look at him. “The guy won’t even talk to me unless he’s yelling about something.”

Amelia laughs louder.

Maverick starts chuckling too. “I’m so glad that my misery amuses you.”

Amelia shakes her head and gives him a sincere look. “I have no doubt that you two will work out your differences,” she says.

Maverick watches her skeptically. “Really?”

Amelia holds his gaze. “I know that you won’t give up on him.”

He sighs and looks past her, running a hand over his mouth. “You’ve got too much faith in me.”

“Eh.” Amelia shrugs. “I happen to know you pretty well,” she says.

He glances back at her and she gives him an affectionate smile. He furrows his brows, bringing his hand up to cup her face. He runs his thumb over her cheek, his eyes sweeping over her features, and she feels her insides flip upside down. “How the fuck did I mess this up?” he says miserably.

Amelia stares at him, her eyes flitting between his. “Pete,” she breathes.

He closes his eyes with a sigh and his hand drops back into his lap.

Amelia is temporarily frozen as she contends with the violent swings in her stomach. It takes all her strength to keep from putting her arms around his neck and letting him lift her off the ground in an embrace. For a moment, she indulges the fantasy. But when the moment is over, she takes a shaky breath and nudges him on the shoulder. “Captain Mitchell,” she says in a playful voice. “I hear there’s a beach somewhere around here and I recall you promised to get me wet.”

Maverick looks up at her incredulously. His lips curl into a smile. “I believe I had offered a walk.”

Amelia laughs. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly a proper gentleman.”

Maverick raises his eyebrows in mock outrage. “Suddenly?”

Amelia stands. “Shall we, Captain?” She holds her hand out to him. He gives her a fevered glance from under his eyebrows, struggling to keep his smirk under control. He takes her hand, rising from his seat, and brings his arm around her. She feels his palm flatten on the small of her back, drawing her closer, and her heart threatens to gallop right out of her chest. He lowers his head and she can feel his mouth move over her ear as he whispers. “I can get you wet, baby,” he mutters, his words bringing about a turbulence in her gut reminiscent of his aggressive flying style. Then, he starts propelling her toward the door. “By throwing you into the ocean.”

...

A/N: AHHHH THE FLIRTING XD I feel like I will forever be writing these two with unresolved sexual tension. Until one day I'm just gonna give in because I won't be able to take it anymore haha

Thank you guys for all the likes, reblogs, and comments! I'm so happy you guys are enjoying the story <3

Next up: Rooster chapter! Woohoo!

Read Chapter 10

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mitchellpete · 11 months

Text

Kinktober Day 20 - Face-sitting

pairing: pete “maverick” mitchell x f!reader

cw: face-sitting, tongue fucking, hair pulling, (ps wrote this with age gap in mind but nothing really indicates that)

word count: 1085

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

Pete got the idea watching you mount his motorcycle. You’d skipped out of the Hard Deck, eager to get home after a busy day and a few celebratory drinks. Pete had a habit of overstaying his goodbyes, however, mingling on the way out—saying goodbye to Penny, to Jimmy, to Bradley, to anybody else he bumped shoulders with. When he stepped out into the brisk night air, he caught sight of you throwing a leg over the lower seat of his Kawasaki as you waited for him to catch up with you.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight: seated in his place, your hair swaying in the wind, waves crashing and booming thunderously behind you for dramatic effect. What a picture. He could devour you immediately, he thought.

You were oblivious to it all until you made it home.

Maverick carelessly kicked off his boots at the door and yanked you to him, pressing his lips to yours in a hungry, eager kiss. Garments were dropped along the floor one by one on your way to the bedroom—Mav’s bomber, his shirt, your shirt, your bra. You only broke apart momentarily to slip out of your jeans, and then Maverick pulled you with him onto the mattress. You straddled him as you kissed one another, breathless and heavy.

“Get up here,” he mumbles against your lips, tongue poking out of his mouth and sneaking into yours. “Ride my face, c’mon.”

You moan at his words, muffled as his tongue slips through your lips. You’re so entranced by his kiss that you don’t even move, not until his palms cup your ass to bring you forward and up. You groan as the action breaks the kiss, immediately missing it.

You oblige, however, watching as he squirms down a bit further on the mattress to give you some room. You grab onto the headboard, adjusting your legs on either side of his head. His arms come up to wrap around your thighs, and you slowly, gently sit yourself on his tongue. You gasp at the return of his hot, wet mouth, this time in a far more pleasurable place.

Already impatient, Maverick notices your slight hesitation. “All the way, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he murmurs against you, his strong arms pulling you down a bit closer.

You moan softly the wetter it feels, the flat of his tongue firm against your throbbing center. Your first instinct is to roll your hips, and he hums in approval. Long strokes of his tongue up and down, just testing the waters, have you arching your back and breathing out heavily. Self-aware, however, you try not to thrust against his face quite yet, instead choosing to let him guide you.

Maverick moans at your taste, sending a jolt of vibrations up your body. Satisfied after a few gentle licks, he exhales against you, diving in like he’s starved. You cry out, thighs tensing against the side of his head as his tongue prods through your folds, poking at your hole. You’re already loose and nearly dripping for him, the tip of his tongue easily gliding in and out.

When you feel him start to slide it in, your body jerks in surprise, sending you forward against the headboard. The motion brings your clit right up against his nose, a strangled moan leaving your mouth. Maverick takes notice and puts his jaw to work, leaving big, wet, open-mouthed kisses all along your cunt, moving his head with the motions so that his nose continues stimulating your nerves.

The pleasure coils inside of you, and you feel yourself unable to sit still, starting to squirm above him. You let go of the headboard, leaning your arms behind you to prop yourself on the mattress instead. Maverick adjusts his arms, wrapping them from the underside of your thighs to hold you in place. The position allows for a better roll of your hips, which you inadvertently do again as the pleasure begins flooding your senses.

Maverick eventually stops his sloppy kisses, moving his tongue back to your tight slit, humming contently through it all. He slips it in and out, moving his jaw side to side to get messy with it. You’re having to bite back your moans, fingers digging harshly into the soft, plush mattress as he watches your very reactive face with delighted eyes.

The pleasure courses through your entire body, legs shaking and simultaneously going numb from the position. You need some kind of movement, a little more friction to push you over the edge. Just a tiny ram of your hips—

You watch the mischievous glint in Maverick’s eyes when he realizes what you’re doing. Thrusting your hips shallowly against his face gives you that much needed buzz you’re searching for, and you whine out loudly as his jaw goes slack, tongue poking out to let you do with it as you please.

Along with your legs, your elbows start to sting from holding yourself up, so you throw an arm up front. You unintentionally grasp at his hair, a fist full of it as you grind against his tongue. Maverick groans as you pull, using it for leverage the faster you move your hips. His entire jaw is wet with your releases, making it easier to rub your cunt against it.

“Pete,” you gasp, throwing your head back.

The noises are obscene; hisses and slurps against your core edging you on and on and on until.. Oh my god. You cum with a loud cry of his name, hips still rolling through your orgasm until the sensitivity comes flooding. You lean forward and grab onto the headboard again to sustain yourself, coming up off of his mouth.

Mav sucks in a long breath underneath you, panting and sniffling to compose himself. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans breathlessly.

You sob as the pleasure shakes your body. It distracts you from noticing that Maverick moves from underneath you, and all you feel is his strong arms pulling you to him from behind, bringing you into his grasp. You turn, meeting his mouth once more, tasting yourself on his tongue as he kisses you slow and soft. He notices you’re still shaky, so he lays you down flat on the mattress, mouth still on yours. Climbing up over you, he pulls back to let you breathe, stroking the side of your face. He looks at you with a soft glint in his eye and asks in a tender voice, “Was that okay?”

#kinktober 2023 #pete mitchell #pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell x reader #maverick x reader #maverick x you #top gun #top gun: maverick #top gun fic #top gun: maverick fic #top gun fanfic #top gun: maverick fanfic #tom cruise x reader #top gun 1986 #top gun headcanons #mav #*

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justabigassnerd · 10 months

Text

Unexpected

Pairing - Jack Reacher x child!reader

Word count - 2,322

Warnings - gun violence, death, blood mentions, child endangerment, angst, lil' pinch of fluff

Summary - on a mission wherein he saves a child, Jack Reacher finds himself forming an unlikely softness towards the young child

A/N - oooh this is new isn't it?? this was a request sent in by @fangirl23obession so I hope I did the idea justice. writing for Jack ended up being a lot harder than I anticipated so I hope this is an okay read for y'all. as per y'all please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

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While travelling the states, Jack had caught wind of some suspicious activity within an Army regiment and so naturally went to investigate further. He didn’t care that he wasn’t technically part of the military anymore. When he got involved in something he was going to see his investigation through until the end.

The Army, knowing who he was and still respecting his rank despite him not being part of the Army anymore, let him weigh in on the ongoing investigation into how a soldier had gone completely AWOL with no evidence of foul play yet before he disappeared, he had been disappearing for hours at a time late at night and returning only in the early hours of the morning. At first, his comrades and superiors thought he was sneaking out to go to nearby bars and spend the night with people outside of the Army but when his superiors went to nearby bars to question the staff, they all denied seeing him at all.

As the investigation progressed, Jack found more and more evidence pointing towards a group of former military personnel who were trying to gain power to supposedly take back from their former places of work. Jack didn’t understand why such a group existed and quite frankly he didn’t care. He was there to do a job and that’s what he was going to do before moving on. He’s dealt with much worse in his lifetime. He wasn’t about to let one measly group of rogue soldiers do any damage.

What Jack could never have predicted was them scooping up a child off the streets and taking them hostage as a way to try and convince people to listen to their demands. With that newfound information, Jack was preparing to go off in search of the group to end them once and for all. The Army, of course, insisted he take some soldiers with him to assist in the whole ordeal and while Jack would rather go about everything himself, he knew he had very little say in the matter so allowed them to come with the one rule that they listen to everything he says. He is in charge of this operation and he’s not going to let anyone undermine him on this mission.

When Jack tracked down the base of the group, he took the soldiers assigned to his mission with him and headed to the old warehouse as he muttered to himself about the cliché of it all. When they arrived at the warehouse, of course, there was a group of ex-soldiers waiting for them, so Jack and his team immediately came under fire and were forced into cover. Jack commanded his team with ease, his military background having never left him and orders slipped from his mouth before his brain could even catch up. He managed to advance forward and make his way into the warehouse, taking down any men who refused to back down.

When he finally fought his way through the splinter cell of rogue soldiers, he reached what he could only assume was the main operations room where the leader had chosen to hide out, a young girl tight in his grip as he held his gun towards Jack.

“You better back up there, Reacher. You don’t want anything to happen to this kid now, do you?” The leader growls, moving his gun to be placed against your temple as more tears work their way down your cheeks as you squirm to try and get out of the man’s iron grip.

“The kid isn’t part of this. Let her go.” Jack says, his gun trained expertly on the man standing before him. He longed to pull the trigger, to end all this mess right here and now but he held his itchy trigger finger back. He knew he couldn’t fire his weapon now, not in front of a young child.

“If I let the kid go, you’ll just kill me. I’m not that stupid.” The leader snaps angrily, the barrel of the gun digging further into your temple with each word that leaves his mouth and Jack quickly begins to figure out a solution.

“Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to put my gun down and you’re going to let the kid go. I won’t try anything. In fact, I’ll let you go.” Jack bargains, beginning to lower his weapon, crouching down and placing his gun on the floor before holding his hands up in surrender.

“I heard your men out there, they’ll kill me.” The man then says, his anger never diminishing.

“They’re only out the front of the warehouse, I never thought to send anyone around the back, so you have a free escape if you go now. Just let the kid go.” Jack says, slowly straightening up and loosely gesturing to the door behind the leader. He remained silent for a moment, eyes flicking between the door and Jack, watching warily to see if he’d dive for his weapon. Keeping his gun trained on your temple, the leader begins to back away towards the door, moving the gun away from your temple momentarily to open the door before returning it to where it was against the side of your head, ignoring the slight whimper that left your lips as the gun digs into your temple again. The man glances between Jack and his doorway to freedom before harshly shoving you to the floor and exiting the warehouse, slamming the door behind him. Jack picked up his gun and made his way over to you, helping you get to your feet, and you immediately clung to his leg, taking him aback slightly. As you clung to his leg, Jack heard a singular gunshot ring out from outside. He knew it was a good idea to bring along a sniper.

“Are you hurt, kid?” Jack then asks, reminding himself of the task at hand as he carefully detaches you from his leg and crouches down to be at your height. You didn’t respond vocally to Jack’s question, just shaking your head as more tears rolled down your cheeks. Despite you shaking your head, Jack checked you over anyway, just to be sure. Once he was satisfied that you were indeed unharmed, he looked at you once more.

“What’s your name?” Jack asks, the gentlest tone to his voice that sounded foreign even to him.

“y/n.” Came your mumbled response, throat thick with tears as you wiped at your eyes harshly.

“Hi, y/n. I’m Jack.” Jack introduces himself to you, doing his best to maintain a gentle tone to not frighten you.

“Do you know where your parents live, y/n?” He then asks, receiving another head shake from you and fighting back a sigh as he glances up as if the ceiling held all the answers. He shouldn’t have expected a young child to know their parent’s address, but it would’ve made his life a lot easier.

“I don’t have any.” You mumble, making Jack look at you curiously.

“You don’t have parents?” He asks cautiously, hoping he somehow heard you wrong but when you nod in response, he lets out a soft sigh. You couldn’t be much older than five and he felt awful that you had no parents.

“I’m going to take you someplace safe, and we’ll talk with some people I know and look at finding you a nice place to live.” Jack says finally, straightening up and immediately you cling to his hand with your small one.

“Okay, kid. I’m going to need you to close your eyes while we leave the warehouse. I won’t let you trip or fall. Promise me you’ll keep your eyes closed.” Jack instructs, looking down at you as you nod, closing your eyes and clasping your free hand over your eyes for good measure. He didn’t want you to see the blood and dead bodies he knew were on the other side of the door. True to your promise, you kept your eyes closed the whole way through the warehouse, your nose wrinkling at the overwhelming stench of iron but you kept your eyes covered the whole time until Jack told you it was okay for you to open your eyes. When you uncover your eyes and blink them open, you discover that you’re standing in front of a car and Jack opens the door for you to climb in. A soldier offers you a hand to help you climb into the car, but you shy away, your grip tightening on Jack’s hand.

“Come on, in you get.” Jack says, letting you hold his hand to climb up into the car, curling up in one of the seats as soon as you’re in the car, eyeing the other soldiers standing by the car carefully. Sensing your discomfort, Jack climbed in the other backseat to offer a familiar presence and he hadn’t anticipated you clinging to his hand once more. If it had been any other situation, Jack was sure he would’ve taken his hand right out of your grip but there was something about the way you only trusted him that made his usually icy heart melt just a little.

The journey back to the military base was short and silent and when you all got out of the car, you were immediately clinging to Jack once more as he led you into one of the offices where Jack’s arrival was expected. The moment Jack entered the room and stood in the middle of the office, you hid behind his legs, aware of all the eyes that were on you as the Colonel stood from his desk.

“Ladies, would you two take young…” The Colonel begins, gesturing loosely in your direction as he realised, he didn’t know your name.

“y/n.” Jack fills in the blank for him.

“y/n. Thank you, Reacher. Take y/n here and get her washed and a change of clothes while we discuss the operation if you, please.” The Colonel finishes, and as the two approach you, you shy away further behind Jack’s legs.

“Hey kid, you go ahead and go with them, okay? They’re just going to get you cleaned up. I’ll be here when you’re done.” Jack says down to you as your head pokes out from behind his legs, looking up at him before tentatively stepping out from behind his legs and letting the two women usher you away so Jack and the Colonel can talk. Jack goes into detail regarding the mission and how it was successful before the subject moves on to returning you to your family.

“She told me she doesn’t have any parents. I don’t know what happened to them, but it seems she’s been alone for a while.” Jack explains as the Colonel nods along to Jack’s words, brow furrowing in thought.

“Okay, I’ll call up Child Protective Services and I’m sure they’ll find a safe and stable home for her.” The Colonel states, reaching for his office phone just as Jack speaks up.

“Actually, Sir. I’d like to take care of her.” The words left his mouth with no hesitation which took the Colonel by surprise. Jack Reacher was never a man who had shown much care for those around him, but you had come along and showed a side of him no one had seen before.

“Are you sure, Reacher? With your lifestyle, she wouldn’t have a very stable life.” The Colonel says, hand hovering over the phone as he watches Jack carefully.

“I’m very sure.” Jack nods, and the Colonel mirrors his action, his hand withdrawing from the phone. Just as the Colonel backs away from the phone you come rushing back into the office, sporting new clothes and damp hair, greeting Jack happily as he crouches down to be at your level.

“I got a choice for you. The Colonel here can call some people who will help find you a nice home, or you could come with me. It’s up to you.” Jack offers up the two choices and you fall silent, eyebrows bunched up as you think.

“I wanna stay with you.” You finally state, grinning at Jack who nods, straightening up and allowing you to grab hold of his hand as he turns to look over at the Colonel.

“Thank you for your assistance, Reacher. Maybe I’ll see you again.” The Colonel says, dismissing the two of you and you leave the base, skipping happily alongside Jack. Jack takes you to grab a quick meal while telling you that you’re both going to get on a bus after and head someplace new which you were excited about. When you got to the bus station, Jack paid for the two tickets, and you boarded the bus. You immediately claimed the window seat and Jack took the aisle seat. But Jack didn’t mind one bit, being on the aisle seat meant he could protect you much easier.

When the bus first departed, you were happily whispering to Jack about how excited you were about everything but soon they were replaced with stifled yawns.

“How about you take a nap, kid? I’ll wake you up when we get there.” Jack says softly, taking his jacket off and draping it over you like a blanket as you curl into the jacket, eyes soon closing. With you soon asleep, Jack figures he should get in some sleep of his own and rests his head against the chair and lets his eyes close.

When he feels a small weight rest against his arm his eyes slowly peel open again, glancing down to see you slumped against his arm. With the corners of his mouth twitching up into the smallest of smiles, he carefully winds his arm around you, tucking you into his side as you curl further into him a sleepy smile covering your own face.

Maybe being a parent wasn’t out of his comfort zone after all.

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