#pete mitchell x female reader

[romerona]

Ethera Operation!!

You're the government’s best hacker, but that doesn’t mean you were prepared to be thrown into a fighter jet.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Awkward!Hacker! FemReader

Part I

This was never supposed to happen. Your role in this operation was simple—deliver the program, ensure it reached the right hands, and let the professionals handle the breaching.

And then, of course, reality decided to light that plan on fire.

The program—codenamed Ethera—was yours. You built it from scratch with encryption so advanced that even the most elite cyber operatives couldn’t crack it without your input. A next-generation adaptive, self-learning decryption software, an intrusion system designed to override and manipulate high-security military networks, Ethera was intended to be both a weapon and a shield, capable of infiltrating enemy systems while protecting your own from counterattacks in real-time. A ghost in the machine. A digital predator. A weapon in the form of pure code. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could disable fleets, and ground aircraft, and turn classified intelligence into an open book. Governments would kill for it. Nations could fall because of it.

Not that you ever meant to, of course. It started as a little experimental security measure program, something to protect high-level data from cyberattacks, not become the ultimate hacking tool. But innovation has a funny way of attracting the wrong kind of attention, and before you knew it, Ethera had become one, if not the most classified, high-risk program in modern times. Tier One asset or so the Secret Service called it.

It was too powerful, too dangerous—so secret that only a select few even knew of its existence, and even fewer could comprehend how it worked.

And therein lay the problem. You were the only person who could properly operate it.

Which was so unfair.

Because it wasn’t supposed to be your problem. You were just the creator, the brain behind the code, the one who spent way too many sleepless nights debugging this monstrosity. Your job was supposed to end at development. But no. Now, because of some bureaucratic nonsense and the fact that no one else could run it without accidentally bricking an entire system, you had been promoted—scratch that, forcibly conscripted—into field duty.

And your mission? To install it in an enemy satellite.

A literal, orbiting, high-security, military-grade satellite, may you add.

God. Why? Why was your country always at war with others? Why couldn’t world leaders just, you know, go to therapy like normal people? Why did everything have to escalate to international cyber warfare?

Which is how you ended up here.

At Top Gun. The last place in the world you wanted to be.

You weren’t built for this. You thrive in sipping coffee in a cosy little office and handling cyber threats from a safe, grounded location. You weren’t meant to be standing in the halls of an elite fighter pilot training program, surrounded by the best aviators in the world—people who thought breaking the sound barrier was a casual Wednesday.

It wasn’t the high-tech cyberwarfare department of the Pentagon, nor some dimly lit black ops facility where hackers in hoodies clacked away at keyboards. No. It was Top Gun. A place where pilots use G-forces like a personal amusement park ride.

You weren’t a soldier, you weren’t a spy, you got queasy in elevators, you got dizzy when you stood too fast, hell, you weren’t even good at keeping your phone screen from cracking.

... And now you were sweating.

You swallowed hard as Admiral Solomon "Warlock" Bates led you through the halls of the naval base, your heels clacking on the polished floors as you wiped your forehead. You're nervous, too damn nervous and this damned weather did not help.

"Relax, Miss," Warlock muttered in that calm, authoritative way of his. "They're just pilots."

Just pilots.

Right. And a nuclear warhead was just a firework.

And now, somehow, you were supposed to explain—loosely explain, because God help you, the full details were above even their clearance level—how Ethera, your elegant, lethal, unstoppable digital masterpiece, was about to be injected into an enemy satellite as part of a classified mission.

This was going to be a disaster.

You had barely made it through the doors of the briefing room when you felt it—every single eye in the room locking onto you.

It wasn’t just the number of them that got you, it was the intensity. These were Top Gun pilots, the best of the best, and they radiated the kind of confidence you could only dream of having. Meanwhile, you felt like a stray kitten wandering into a lion’s den.

Your hands tightened around the tablet clutched to your chest. It was your lifeline, holding every critical detail of Ethera, the program that had dragged you into this utterly ridiculous situation. If you could’ve melted into the walls, you absolutely would have. But there was no escaping this.

You just had to keep it together long enough to survive this briefing.

So, you inhaled deeply, squared your shoulders, and forced your heels forward, trying to project confidence—chin up, back straight, eyes locked onto Vice Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, who you’d been introduced to earlier that day.

And then, of course, you dropped the damn tablet.

Not a graceful drop. Not the kind of gentle slip where you could scoop it back up and act like nothing happened. No, this was a full-on, physics-defying fumble. The tablet flipped out of your arms, ricocheted off your knee, and skidded across the floor to the feet of one of the pilots.

Silence.

Pure, excruciating silence.

You didn’t even have the nerve to look up right away, too busy contemplating whether it was physically possible to disintegrate on command. But when you finally did glance up—because, you know, social convention demanded it—you were met with a sight that somehow made this entire disaster worse.

Because the person crouching down to pick up your poor, abused tablet was freaking hot.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a head of golden curls that practically begged to be tousled by the wind, and, oh, yeah—a moustache that somehow worked way too well on him.

He turned the tablet over in his hands, inspecting it with an amused little smirk before handing it over to you. "You, uh… need this?"

Oh, great. His voice is hot too.

You grabbed it back, praying he couldn't see how your hands were shaking. “Nope. Just thought I’d test gravity real quick.”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and his smirk deepened like he was enjoying this way too much. You, on the other hand, wanted to launch yourself into the sun.

With what little dignity you had left, you forced a quick, tight-lipped smile at him before turning on your heel and continuing forward, clutching your tablet like it was a life raft in the middle of the worst social shipwreck imaginable.

At the front of the room, Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson stood with the kind of posture that said he had zero time for nonsense, waiting for the room to settle. You barely had time to take a deep breath before his voice cut through the air.

“Alright, listen up.” His tone was crisp, commanding, and impossible to ignore. “This is Dr Y/N L/N. Everything she is about to tell you is highly classified. What you hear in this briefing does not leave this room. Understood?”

A chorus of nods. "Yes, sir."

You barely resisted the urge to physically cringe as every pilot in the room turned to stare at you—some with confusion, others with barely concealed amusement, and a few with the sharp assessing glances of people who had no clue what they were supposed to do with you.

You cleared your throat, squared your shoulders, and did your best to channel even an ounce of the confidence you usually had when you were coding at 3 AM in a secure, pilot-free lab—where the only judgment you faced was from coffee cups and the occasional system error.

As you reached the podium, you forced what you hoped was a composed smile. “Uh… hi, nice to meet you all.”

Solid. Real professional.

You glanced up just long enough to take in the mix of expressions in the room—some mildly interested, some unreadable, and one particular moustached pilot who still had the faintest trace of amusement on his face.

Nope. Not looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, centering yourself. Stay focused. Stay professional. You weren’t just here because of Ethera—you were Ethera. The only one who truly understood it. The only one who could execute this mission.

With another tap on your tablet, the slide shifted to a blacked-out, redacted briefing—only the necessary information was visible. A sleek 3D-rendered model of the enemy satellite appeared on the screen, rotating slowly. Most of its details were blurred or omitted entirely.

“This is Blackstar, a highly classified enemy satellite that has been operating in a low-Earth orbit over restricted airspace.” Your voice remained even, and steady, but the weight of what you were revealing sent a shiver down your spine. “Its existence has remained off the radar—literally and figuratively—until recently, when intelligence confirmed that it has been intercepting our encrypted communications, rerouting information, altering intelligence, and in some cases—fabricating entire communications.”

Someone exhaled sharply. Another shifted in their seat.

“So they’re feeding us bad intel?” one of them with big glasses and blonde hair asked, voice sceptical but sharp.

“That’s the theory,” you confirmed. “And given how quickly our ops have been compromised recently, it’s working.”

You tapped again, shifting to the next slide. The silent infiltration diagram appeared—an intricate web of glowing red lines showing Etherea’s integration process, slowly wrapping around the satellite’s systems like a virus embedding itself into a host.

“This is where Ethera comes in,” you said, shifting to a slide that displayed a cascading string of code, flickering across the screen. “Unlike traditional cyberweapons, Ethera doesn’t just break into a system. It integrates—restructuring security protocols as if it was always meant to be there. It’s undetectable, untraceable, and once inside, it grants us complete control of the Blackstar and won’t even register it as a breach.”

“So we’re not just hacking it," The only female pilot of the team said, arms crossed as she studied the data. “We’re hijacking it.”

“Exactly,” You nodded with a grin.

You switched to the next slide—a detailed radar map displaying the satellite’s location over international waters.

“This is the target area,” you continued after a deep breath. “It’s flying low-altitude reconnaissance patterns, which means it’s using ground relays for some of its communication. That gives us a small window to infiltrate and shut it down.”

The next slide appeared—a pair of unidentified fighter aircraft, patrolling the vicinity.

“And this is the problem,” you said grimly. “This satellite isn’t unguarded.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the pilots took in the fifth-generation stealth fighters displayed on the screen.

“We don’t know who they belong to,” you admitted. “What we do know is that they’re operating with highly classified tech—possibly experimental—and have been seen running defence patterns around the satellite’s flight path.”

Cyclone stepped forward then, arms crossed, his voice sharp and authoritative. “Which means your job is twofold. You will escort Dr L/N’s aircraft to the infiltration zone, ensuring Ethera is successfully deployed. If we are engaged, your priority remains protecting the package and ensuring a safe return.”

Oh, fantastic, you could not only feel your heartbeat in your toes, you were now officially the package.

You cleared your throat, tapping the screen again. Ethera’s interface expanded, displaying a cascade of sleek code.

“Once I’m in range,” you continued, “Ethera will lock onto the satellite’s frequency and begin infiltration. From that point, it’ll take approximately fifty-eight seconds to bypass security and assume control."

Silence settled over the room like a thick cloud, the weight of their stares pressing down on you. You could feel them analyzing, calculating, probably questioning who in their right mind thought putting you—a hacker, a tech specialist, someone whose idea of adrenaline was passing cars on the highway—into a fighter jet was a good idea.

Finally, one of the pilots—tall, broad-shouldered, blonde, and very clearly one of the cocky ones—tilted his head, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screamed too much confidence.

“So, let me get this straight.” His voice was smooth, and confident, with just the right amount of teasing. “You, Doctor—our very classified, very important tech specialist—have to be in the air, in a plane, during a mission that has a high probability of turning into a dogfight… just so you can press a button?”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of being airborne.

“Well…” You gulped, very much aware of how absolutely insane this sounded when put like that. “It’s… more than just that, but, yeah, essentially.”

A slow grin spread across his face, far too entertained by your predicament.

“Oh,” he drawled, “this is gonna be fun.”

Before you could fully process how much you already hated this, Cyclone—who had been watching the exchange with his signature unamused glare—stepped forward, cutting through the tension with his sharp, no-nonsense voice.

“This is a classified operation,” he stated, sharp and authoritative. “Not a joyride.”

The blonde’s smirk faded slightly as he straightened, and the rest of the pilots quickly fell in line.

Silence lingered for a moment longer before Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson let out a slow breath and straightened. His sharp gaze swept over the room before he nodded once.

“All right. That’s enough.” His tone was firm, the kind that left no room for argument. “We’ve got work to do. The mission will take place in a few weeks' time, once we’ve run full assessments, completed necessary preparations, and designated a lead for this operation.”

There was a slight shift in the room. Some of the pilots exchanged glances, the weight of the upcoming mission finally settling in. Others, mainly the cocky ones, looked as though they were already imagining themselves in the cockpit.

“Dismissed,” Cyclone finished.

The pilots stood, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out of the room, the blonde one still wearing a smug grin as he passed you making you frown and turn away, your gaze then briefly met the eyes of the moustached pilot.

You hadn’t meant to look, but the moment your eyes connected, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Curiosity? You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t want to know.

So you did the only logical thing and immediately looked away and turned to gather your things. You needed to get out of here, to find some space to breathe before your brain short-circuited from stress—

“Doctor, Stay for a moment.”

You tightened your grip on your tablet and turned back to Cyclone, who was watching you with that unreadable, vaguely disapproving expression that all high-ranking officers seemed to have perfected. “Uh… yes, sir?”

Once the last pilot was out the door, Cyclone exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.

“You realize,” he said, “that you’re going to have to actually fly, correct?”

You swallowed. “I—well, technically, I’ll just be a passenger.”

His stare didn’t waver.

“Doctor,” he said, tone flat, “I’ve read your file. I know you requested to be driven here instead of taking a military transport plane. You also took a ferry across the bay instead of a helicopter. And I know that you chose to work remotely for three years to avoid getting on a plane.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “That… could mean anything.”

“It means you do not like flying, am I correct?”

Your fingers tightened around the tablet as you tried to find a way—any way—out of this. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t need to fly the plane. I just need to be in it long enough to deploy Ethera—”

Cyclone cut you off with a sharp look. “And what happens if something goes wrong, Doctor? If the aircraft takes damage? If you have to eject mid-flight? If you lose comms and have to rely on emergency protocols?”

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting at the very thought of ejecting from a jet.

Cyclone sighed, rubbing his temple as if this entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “We cannot afford to have you panicking mid-mission. If this is going to work, you need to be prepared. That’s why, starting next week you will train with the pilots on aerial procedures and undergoing mandatory training in our flight simulation program.”

Your stomach dropped. “I—wait, what? That’s not necessary—”

“It’s absolutely necessary,” Cyclone cut in, his tone sharp. “If you can’t handle a simulated flight, you become a liability—not just to yourself, but to the pilots escorting you. And in case I need to remind you, Doctor, this mission is classified at the highest level. If you panic mid-air, it won’t just be your life at risk. It’ll be theirs. And it’ll be national security at stake.”

You inhaled sharply. No pressure. None at all.

Cyclone watched you for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly softer but still firm. “You’re the only one who can do this, Doctor. That means you need to be ready.”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together before nodding stiffly. “Understood, sir.”

Cyclone gave a small nod of approval. “Good. Dismissed.”

You turned and walked out, shoulders tense, fully aware that in three days' time, you were going to be strapped into a high-speed, fighter jet. And knowing your luck?

You were definitely going to puke.

Part 2???

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Best of the Bad Boys | Part II

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: You've fallen for the best of the best. Unfortunately, he also happens to be the worst of the worst.

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff

WC: ~1900

Part I | Masterlist

“Why didn’t you tell me Viper was your father?” Maverick calls, following you out into the lot.

You’re walking briskly ahead of him because you were hoping to postpone this very conversation. You slow your pace a touch and glance back at him over your shoulder. “You didn’t ask.”

Maverick gives you a disgruntled look and slides a pair of aviators over his eyes. “Cute,” he replies curtly, walking past you toward his bike.

“Did you tell my father what you’re giving me a ride in?” you ask, eyeing the motorcycle skeptically.

Maverick pauses briefly as he grabs the handlebar and lowers his head to peek up at you over the rims of his sunglasses. “Your father trusts me to fly jets. I think he’d be okay with the Ninja.”

You shrug nonchalantly. “It’s your ass on the line.”

Maverick exhales sharply and takes a step toward you. “Exactly,” he says moodily. “You could’ve given me a heads up.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!” you exclaim in a forceful whisper, very conscious of how close he’s gotten. “I never come here.” You look around anxiously, ensuring that no one is around. “Today was an exception – obviously,” you finish, rubbing the back of your head where your clip had broken against it.

Maverick watches you intently. “Are you okay?” he finally says.

“You already asked me that,” you retort grumpily, lowering your gaze.

“I’m asking again.”

“I’m fine.”

Maverick lets out another sigh and then mounts his bike. He glances over at you. “You coming?”

You hesitate for a moment before climbing onto the back of the seat. Tentatively, you take a hold of his jacket, being careful not to actually touch his body.

But Maverick takes your hand in his and brings it around his torso, pressing it into his abdomen. You hold your breath nervously, trying not to think about the ripple of abs you can feel underneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m not going to be flooring it,” he says, starting the engine. “But I’d still prefer it if you held on.”

You bring your other hand around to his stomach, wondering if riding around on a motorcycle is really the best pastime for someone whose limbs are still feeling like jelly after an – albeit minor – collision. You know that your father would certainly not approve. And yet, you somehow feel like you could trust Maverick to deliver you home safe and sound.

As Maverick pulls out of the lot, he yells to you over the roar of the engine, “You thought you’d never see me again?”

You stare at the back of his neck, wondering how the heck you’re going to reply. Thankfully, the motor is loud enough that you have some time to think about it.

When Maverick slows to a stop at a red light, he turns his head to the side so that you’re graced with the contours of his side profile for several moments. He doesn’t strain to look at you over his shoulder but the pause as he lowers his gaze to the asphalt is enough to confirm that he’s awaiting a response.

“I didn’t know you were planning on staying,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with confidence despite your discomfort.

Maverick revs his engine just before the light turns green and starts rolling through the intersection the moment it changes. He doesn’t say anything else until he parks outside your house and kills the engine. “I wasn’t,” he says evenly and then climbs off the bike. He turns to look at you coolly and offers a hand to help you down.

You ignore his outstretched hand and dismount without his help. “You weren’t going to stay?” you ask casually, pretending that the impending answer is entirely insignificant to you.

Maverick shakes his head. “I turned down the offer last week.”

You gulp anxiously, suddenly severely distraught at the thought of Maverick leaving – even though you apparently ‘never thought you’d see him again.’  “But my dad said – does he know that you turned down the offer?”

Maverick watches you in silence for a second and then nods. He drops his gaze then and mutters, “I called him this morning, told him I was reconsidering my decision.” His eyes meet yours again with a stoic expression.

You blink to break the eye contact and look away uneasily. “How come?” you ask nonchalantly.

“Just felt like sticking around for a bit,” he says.

You glance up at him and, while he’s still not exactly smiling, the crease between his furrowed eyebrows has softened a touch. You realize that his change of heart must have had – at least in part – something to do with you, considering it happened immediately after your encounter. But you’re too afraid of being wrong to voice this theory so, instead, you say, “Even so, I’m hardly ever on base and I don’t exactly hang out at the officer’s club very often. The chances of us running into each other again were pretty slim.”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “You gave me your number.”

“Would you have called?”

Maverick stares at you. “I wouldn’t have asked for it if I wasn’t going to call.”

You shrug. “It was a fake number.”

Maverick raises his eyebrows and scoffs. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll see you around then.” He turns back to his bike and swings his leg over to mount it. “Or I guess I won’t,” he adds, turning the key in the ignition.

You panic and take a step toward him, placing your hand over the handlebar and grasping it firmly. “Can you image if I had given you my real number?” you ask. “You would’ve called – maybe” – you add with an eyeroll – “But, if you had and my father picked up? Then what?”

Maverick holds your gaze as your words sink in. Of course, your logic is sound. You couldn’t give him your real number. “You could’ve told me he was your father,” he says levelly, clearly still abundantly vexed. “What else did you lie about?”

You tighten your grip around the handlebar until your knuckles turn white. “Don’t act like you had any intention of seeing me again. And, if you did, how would I know? It’s not like you have a history of committed relationships.”

“What do you know about my history?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow as though you’ve piqued his interest.

You freeze for a moment and press your lips together crossly, annoyed that he’s caught onto the fact that you know more about him than you’d originally let on. “Are you going to take the position?” you ask irritably, completely ignoring his question.

“How can I?” he asks, raising his voice. Then, in a desperate whisper, he adds, “I slept with my superior officer’s daughter!”

You stare at him guiltily. “He doesn’t have to know,” you say.

“I know,” Maverick responds, his eyes boring into yours.

You sigh. “Pretend you don’t.” After a few moments of silence, you let go of the bike and give him a tight smile and a small wave as you start to back away.

Maverick doesn’t wave back. He watches you grimly as you retreat until you finally turn your back to him and ascend the steps of your porch.

You pause at your front door, wondering if you're ever going to see him again. But as you start to dig in your pocket for your house key, you feel a hand graze your upper back, and you whip your head around in surprise. How Maverick managed to scale your porch in under five seconds is beyond you, but you’re far too swept away to ruminate on the details.

Maverick waits a beat, his fingers sliding down your arm as you rotate to face him. His gaze slips momentarily to your lips before he says, “I’m not good at pretending.”

You stare at him in shock as the familiar weakness in your knees – a recurring ailment where Maverick is concerned – threatens to compromise your balance. Standing there, admiring the angles of his face, you suddenly can't think of anything more awe-inspiring. “You should take the job,” you say feebly as he draws ever closer.

Maverick sets his jaw and breathes forcefully out through his nose as though he’s combatting a sentiment he’d rather not express. “Okay,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead. This move destabilizes you further.

You glance up at him and his lips brush softly over the tip of your nose. Your heart springs violently into your throat and then proceeds to bounce around your ribcage like a pinball. He smells like leather and cologne and his light eyes hold your gaze like a magnet. “I’ll stay away from the base,” you say quietly, not daring to believe your own words.

His hands slide up your shoulders and then your neck and then he cradles your head in his palms. “Okay,” he repeats, his face so close to yours that you can almost taste the citrus in his aftershave.

You try to control your breathing, closing your eyes as his thumbs sweep gently over your cheeks. “We can forget all about this,” you whisper very faintly, as though you don’t want to be heard.

Maverick nudges your face with the tip of his nose and mutters, “Okay,” in a warm, humid whisper. His lips move slowly over yours and, languidly, he wraps an entire arm around the back of your neck to bring your closer. He takes a few steps toward you but, since you’re already flush against his body, you’re forced to take a few steps back.

“Thank you for the ride,” you mumble against his lips and you feel him grin at your words.

“My pleasure,” he responds without taking his mouth off yours. He guides you backward until you’re against the front door of your house and suddenly you realize that you’re making out with a Top Gun aviator under your father’s roof.

This thought startles you awake and you brace your hands against Maverick’s chest, giving him a slight push.

Maverick withdraws instantly and drops his head with a heavy sigh before glancing up at you with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he says, despite the unapologetic grin.

You scoff with an eye roll and shake your head. Not only is this turn of events the complete opposite of your earlier proposition but it’s also very much something you swore you’d never do. Maverick is just about the worst decision you could make and yet, here you are continuing to make it. “My friend told me you’re trouble,” you say, straightening your posture because you’re now addressing something of utmost importance.

Maverick’s mouth tightens slightly as he attempts to keep a straight face. “Susan?”

“Yes, Susan,” you retort mockingly, surprised that he remembers her name.

Maverick purses his lips, shifting his jaw in thought as he squints his eyes at you. “What sort of trouble?”

You give him a flat look. “She wasn’t specific.”

He nods. “How convenient.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You’re denying this?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Nah, she’s probably right.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Good to know.”

He meets your gaze with a more genuine expression. “Come on,” he says. “It’s not like you haven’t already made up your mind about me.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, ignoring the way his eyes are sparkling in the afternoon sun. You’d love to just be straightforward and ask what his true intentions are, but that seems lame and boring and awkward. And you’re none of those things. So, you say, “Would you like to come in for a minute?”

Maverick gives you a small smile and nods. “Okay,” He responds.

Maverick Tag List:

The rest of the list will be in the comments. Let me know if I missed you! As always, let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Mav works!

@wandering-wah

@callsign-sunshine

@ghost-heart34

@birdy-bat-writes

@matya4

@wkndwlff

@nyx2021

@bellamy1998

@oliviah-25

@alexxavicry

@army24--7

@thefandomimagines

@dracosluvbot

@smit41

@scenesofobx

@Criminalmindsandmarvel

@lunamoonbby

@malums-trash-can

@malindacath

@karleetakeenan

@callsign-echo

@toothemoonanddback

@broketraveler87

@atarmychick007

@shanimallina87

@creativitybeware

@xoxabs88xox

@Yoyop7

@hallecarey1

@nik2blog

@rrocky0ah

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@lilianashomaresparza

@latetedslesetoiles

@Elenavampire21

@starberryhorse

@ginger-gabsq

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@risingtripletaurus

@callsignmaverick5

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@hermaeusmorax

@littlebadariell

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

[missmarveledsblog]

Bet on it ( Bradley bradshaw x reader ) part one

summary : everyone thought since they were best friend that their kids would be but after some unknown reason bradley bradshaw and y/n mitchell hated each other . after confrontation one night that leaves bradley in a dry spell well the guys make a claim and bradley's willing to bet and prove them wrong all he had to do was get into a relationship with the one person that couldn't stand him .

warning : enemies to lovers, bradley bit of a dick in the start not gonna lie , bet trope , age gap ( ten years hes 38 , she 28 ) this series is gonna be a roller coaster of emotions

They were soulmate platonic  where Mav was, goose was not far behind , both mischievous , both good at what they did . best friends til the end of time even if the time was short lived . so naturally people thought it would be the same with their kids and yet they were very wrong. It was like the two were fire and ice constantly going against each other whenever they got close .  there was a break she went to med school as bradley was back at top gun only for their secret feud to fire back up when she was transferred to a hospital right in san diego and of course she was able to win the hearts of the dagger squad and her turning up to the hard deck it was his worst nightmare come true . if they weren’t locked in the childish back and forth it was ignoring the other existence all together which honestly their friends preferred and as aggravating as y/n mitchell could be nothing was going to dampen bradley bradshaws mood tonight. He almost floated over to his friends the moment he step into the hard deck . the smile on his face was almost cheek splitting when they all looked at him . 

“ guess who got a date with the barista” he flashed his dazzling smile pulling the aviator to perch on his nose . 

“  nice even for you chicken” hangman nodded. 

“ well bagman you know i could give you some advice  , i mean i guess it been a dry spell” he shrugged taking his seat beside phoenix who rolled her eyes and called them both “ disgusting pigs”. 

“ yeah i don’t need advice we both now i do well and even better than you” . 

“ god you both ever gonna tire of the hook ups “ she groaned . 

“ hey this could be best date of my life and she could be the one” bradley smirked. 

Before they could even say more the door open and an excited y/n bounded towards them . 

“ i pass the interview i passed it” she yelled excitedly. 

“ wait the internship in new york?” nat asked unsure of how to feel . 

“ yes it’s not til six month from now but  in six month i will be heading to big city and studying under the greats of pediatrics “ she excitedly dance in her spot barely even sparing the usually happy man in her wake. 

“A date with hot ass woman and she leaving jesus this is my lucky day” rooster felt like crying he was so happy. 

“ in six month pornstache … wow playing in the dog park finally worked out good job” she smiled only for jake to lift her up and spin her around . 

“Knew you could do it , what i tell you this morning” he chuckled ruffling her hair. 

“ not to doubt myself “ she smiled bashfully . “ shit there’s my dad i’ll be back “ she giggled rushing off . 

“ or don’t that’s a good option “ rooster smiled. 

“ i don’t get why you don’t like her” fanboy mused . 

“ because you’ll learn like i did she’ll drop you like that no reason” he rolled his eyes sick of his friend constantly going on about how great she was honestly he thought the same one time and well he learned his lesson . 

“ people change or maybe you done something “ jake mused although he may of know more than he let on giving how close he and y/n got over the two years since she came to san diego. 

“ day that happens i’ll sell my bronco “ bradley scoffed. “ going to the mens room if my date comes tell her i’ll be out in a minute” . 

She stood watching the news sinking in from excitement to straight on nerves .  hoping he would show even a hint of happiness for her . 

“ it’s great news but we .. i just got you back” he smiled uneasy . 

“ it’s only a short flight and i’ll be home for holidays come on dad this is once in a lifetime opportunity i’m literally the youngest and female to be accepted on to this programme “ she almost pleaded with him . 

“ how long is it” 

“ two years with a chance to stay on in new york or head back to my residency here which i will because it will earn my spot on more paid job and more opportunities  it’s only two years and i can visit” she repeated . 

“ well i still got you for six months so i better make most of it i am proud of you but your my baby girl too … penny round on me to celebrate my daughters great work” he smiled sadly although he meant it when he said he was proud . 

“ i’ll have this one with you next one with the guys “ she smiled . 

“ sorry i was suppose to meet someone here and i don’t think i can see him “ a woman called making them turn . 

“ who you looking for honey “ penny beamed 

“ bradley bradshaw oh god i have the wrong place don’t i “ she chuckled . 

“  the wrong man i’d run if i was you” another woman scoffed. 

“ you sure he was charming when i met him “ the girls eyes widened . 

“ really rooster is great guy , don’t listen cheryl she as bitter as those gins “ y/n smiled . 

“ yeah great guy when he and hangman used me as pawn in their who can sleep with most women game , i think i was number 8 made me think i was special never felt the spark like it “ 

“ she’s drunk really rooster is great , he’s sweet and listens to good music “  y/n defended more although she didn’t know why he was an ass to her all time even though he was one that hurt her all those years.

“ sure look he already over there high fiving his friend “ cheryl smirked as the other girl eyes narrowed before y/n  could say anything the woman was barrelling over like a storm . 

Now as bradley looked up ready to greet his date what he didn’t expect was the slap across his face or the anger of a bull on her. 

“ you bastard i thought .. shit i thought one decent guy out there til that woman set me straight “ she pointed over at cheryl although bradley misread it  now he was pissed. 

“ whatever she said was crock of shit  trust me” he defended. 

“ so you and some guy called hangman didn’t have a sleezy contest i will not be a part of delete my number asshole “ was all she said before storming out the bar completely . 

“ she has got some nerve” was all bradley said before he storming towards the bar only he wasn’t going for the right person . 

“ what the hell is your problem  what me being happy isn’t good enough you have to ruin it “ he pulled y/n around as she almost looked shocked. 

“ i didn’t … i didn’t do anything” she stuttered out completely confused. 

 “ yeah you told her about stupid game me and hangman had … do you really like ruining things for me i mean life was great til you showed up here making everyone think your some little sweetheart when in actuality  your’re a cold hearted bitch” he scoffed. 

“ and you said he was a great guy” cheryl laughed . 

“ i guess i was wrong, drop dead rooster “ y/n walked off ignoring everyone’s calls . 

“ shit that girl defended you after i told your date what your really like jesus thanks for proving me right”cheryl saunter off playing her bill and leaving . 

“ wait wait what “ he froze . 

“ rooster what the hell .. you two used to love each other now god your at each others throat but never like that ...   i thought you were better than that .. godson or not you talk to her like that again we’re gonna have problems “ mav warned as he headed out the door .  leaving bradley looking like biggest dickhead in the hard deck head low and tail between his legs he headed back to the table the guys were bar nat and jake who probably fixing his fuck up . 

“ wow harsh man” payback whistled lowly . 

“ yeah not my finest moment “ he grumbled . 

That  sentence was like a mantra on his tongue hell he didn’t want to admit it the dry spell he was having which after his outburst completely extended it first couple of week no girl would even look his way hitting another bust as he headed back to the rest of his squad as y/n sat with jake as far as she could barely even looking his way til she ended up smiling at her phone and bidding the rest a farewell , he didn’t want to admit it but the complete freeze out was worse than before the fact she didn’t even give him a second thought was driving him crazy maybe  the dry spell was affecting him more than he thought . 

“ guess it was a bust” fanboy smirked. 

“ losing your status rooster”  javy laughed , 

“ maybe it for the best between him and hangman  they going to sleep through san diego or that was case” bob chuckled . 

“ now what i would love to see is either of them try a relationship they would fold the second things get serious” payback  pointed out . 

“ ok first ouch bob i’m nothing like bagman  and second i could do serious relationship with any girl “ he stood hand on hips . 

“ not any girl “ bob mused . 

“ baby on board is right not any girl “ jake leaned against the pool table maybe it was a risk and shit if it ended badly well he would hate it but he could see it , he could see it the moment she walked into the hard deck two years ago . 

“ i’d bet my bronco on it “ bradley stood falling into the trap hook line and sinker . 

“ you sure you wanna bet on something you’ll lose chicken ?”  he goaded willing him to take the bait . 

“ fuck it your on bagman name her , point her out” he stood toe to toe with the man . 

“ easy y/n “ that damn smile , the cocky one rooster loved to wipe of his face and yet this one was gonna be tough shit did he have it in him. “ you really are a chicken on it “ he had him hook , line  

“ your on “  sinker .

A.N : Let me know if you wanna be added to taglist for future parts

[lieutenantfloyd]

Happy birthday Tom Cruise!!💕🎂🎉🎈

(Credit to avocadoji on TikTok)

[helloitstsyu]

hello, I have a request for a tom cruise x reader fic based on the ariana grande song ‘fantasize’. that’s all, thank you xx

fantasize | Tom Cruise 18+

a/n : goshhhh this req is stuck in my mind for so long. finally I'm able to finish writing itt... i hope it fills your expectations! love the suggestion so much xx.

Pairing : Tom Cruise x f¡reader

Warning : unprotected sex, clothed sex, dirty talks, assume age gap, smut, minor dni!

Polo match.

You always hate when you're dragged to these kinda events. But your dad always insists on bringing you here. And since you just come back from college overseas, you owe it to him for a bit of quality time.

You would much rather stay at home or go out with your friends for a spa day or a pool party. Definitely not this. You feel awkward here and you don't know everyone here except your dad. Dad said it's not just about the game but it's about the networking. And so there he is, leaving you behind as he talks to his colleagues.

The game is about to start. Your dad calls for you. As you walk towards him, you see he's standing next to a man. His hair is perfectly styled. He's wearing a navy suit with a matching navy patterned tie. His eyes covered behind a sunglasses, but you kinda feel something about him is familiar, like you've seen him somewhere or something.

"Tom, i want you to meet my daughter." Dad places his hand behind your waist. Looks at you proudly, "She just came back from Harvard– took a double degree there while running her own business... couldn't get much prouder of my little cupcake." Your dad says.

Your dad has a habit of over-introducing you in front of people. "Dad, you're doing it again," you chuckle awkwardly as you shake your head.

Turning your head, you prolong your hand first for a shake. Shooting the man your most friendliest smile. "Hi, pleasure to meet you, i'm Y/N Y/L/N,"

He takes his glasses off and then shakes your hand.

That face. That eyes. Beat drops. You could feel your heart stop at the sight.

"Hi... I'm Tom,"

Cruise. He is Tom Cruise.

That's why you knew something about him is familiar, he's the freaking Hollywood god.

This shouldn't surprise you– to meet celebrities and all. Your dad works in the business as a producer. But something is different this time. Something is different about Tom Cruise. You almost feel like the air gets hotter. Perhaps it is him being so hot, or perhaps it's the way he stares at you with an intrigue in his eyes.

"So you're the famous Y/N Y/L/N... I've heard so much about you." He says, shooting a friendly smile.

"Yeah? Not the fun part, though," you mutter quietly.

Your dad and Tom both only stay silent and look at you, processing what you've just said.That came out of nowhere. The moment you realized you've said it, you regret it.

A few seconds pass with silence, but thankfully, your dad breaks into a laughter, lightening up the intense situation. "You're funny, sweetheart," your dad says. He must've not gotten the hidden intent behind what you said.

Tom however, just chuckles a little and a ghost smile appears on his face, his eyes light up as if he's enjoying some private humor. "Well.. I'd love to know more," Tom says. His gaze is unwavering and intense.

The event host then announces that the game is about to be started. You take your seat next to your dad. Tom is sitting a couple rows down from you, that doesn't stop you from keeping your eyes glued at him all the time.

For some reason, your heart is pounding mercilessly. You curse at yourself for being so stupid, muttering things out of your mouth before you think more about it. The way Tom gazed at you makes you feel some type of way, you're mentally and physically weak.

The way Tom moves a couple rows down there, the way he runs his fingers to his hair, the way his eyes dead-locked-focused watching the game as he chews a gum. That eyes, that jawline, that hair — Everything about this man just attracts every single bit of your cell. You're actually feeling all hot and horny right now.

Your mind starts to play on its own. Imagining what those lips would taste like. Imagining to run your fingers through that brunette strands. Imagining yourself getting fucked in this VIP little box — him pinning you down, he'd make you moaning hard, he'd pound mercilessly to you as he licks your moaning mouth. Oh, you'd give anything for him.

The loud cheer of the audience as the game ends awakes you back into reality. Somehow, you miss the whole game having your own preferred one in your head.

As you're about to leave your box, Tom comes to you and your dad again. Making some casual talks about the game and how great it was. You just stand there silence, still recovering from that heavy game you played in your mind.

"Cupcake," your dad turns around and calls for you, "If it's okay... i invite Tom to our lunch, i still have some business to discuss with him. I hope you're okay with it."

Before you can answer, your dad's phone rings. "Shit... hang on, sweetheart,"

"It's all fine, dad. I'll just go wait in the car." You say. You know whenever your dad's phone rings, that'll take some time. So rather than spending here talking with Tom and risking yourself to be flustered and caught in the open. You'd rather go back to your car and chill alone.

You get in your car and quickly turn on the air conditioning to the fullest setting. You sigh heavily.

You try to shake the picture of him in your head, trying to stop this feeling. You take a long breath in and just look at yourself from the rearview mirror. For some reason, you still feel horny. As if this feeling is not gonna go away until you're fed.

Looking around there's no one here around the parking lot. So you do what you gotta do to help yourself. You move to the back seat and lay down comfortably. You shut your eyes close and hoping that Tom is here. Hoping that Tom knows what he did to you, the feeling he inflicted on you.

All of a sudden, your door just pulled open, startling you to open your eyes and sit up. To your much surprise, it's Tom. He is ducking his head in.

"Tom? Wh-what are you doing?" You cluelessly ask.

"What needs to be done," he retorts in hushed voice.

He gets in and slams back the door close. In one quick motion, he lunges at you, grabs you by your face and kisses you. His lips on yours feel so soft and so burning at the same time— addicting, that's what he tastes like. You moan into his mouth, giving him just enough the opening. His tongue expertly exploring your mouth.

You have never been kissed like this. Your tongue tentatively plays back and joins his in an erotic movement. He gently pushes you back till you're laying down flat on the back seat with him on top of you. You're helpless, you're all pinned down, and he's restraining you with his whole body. You wrap your legs around his hips, allowing him to completely have his body pressed to yours. His hand explores your body, trailing the length of your thigh to your hips. Feeling something hardering, nudging you, you couldnt help to grind your center to his cock.

He hiss against your mouth. But Tom doesn't stop you or anything, rather he moves to kiss all over your chin, moving to your neck. The moment he sucks and nibs your sensitive skin, he got your eyes rolling back. You grip onto his jacket and swallows your edging moan.

"Tom..." you mutter.

Tom asks. Kiss more of your neck.

"Yes, darling?" Tom whispers in your ear before he gently bites your earlobe. Earning your jaw falls agape. He moves again to your collar bone, kissing you in the softest-teasing way.

He breathes against your flushed chest. His breath is hot, just like the way he makes you feel right now. He lays a soft, gentle kiss all across your flushed chest. Lowering himself even more as he gradually pulls your dress down along his way till your breast finally uncovered. He softly gasps at the sight of you. He glances to your eyes, lust covers in his gaze, before he places a kiss around your nipple.

You hiss, fingers grip onto his jacket.The moment he flick his tongue then sucks your nipple, you couldn't hold in your moan even more. "Ohh!" You moan.

Tom pushes himself off your neck and looks back into your eyes. "Come on, Y/N, show me how fun you can be," he challenges.

And just like that, the switch is being made. You turn off all of the good girl sides about you and this lust overdriving you into some dangerous character that'll put you in trouble. You pull him back to your lips and kiss him passionately. Your hands quickly run his body, feeling the toned muscles underneath. 60 or something, it is a joke that he's looking this damn hot at this age. You rub him from outside his pants.

You could feel Tom smirking against your lips. "Good girl," he chuckles.

You hurriedly take off his belt. Him helping you too. You push his trousers down just enough till you can grab his hard shaft and pulls it out from the torment of its lack of space. Tom groans as you wrap your hand around him. Fuck, he's big. And so hard. You pump his cock and spread his precum all over his shaft.

"Is that what you want?" Tom asks.

Glancing back to his eyes, you nod. "I want you to fuck me,"

A content smile appears on his face. He pushes your panties to the side and just pushes himself through your folds without warning.

"Ahh!" You squal uncomfortably to the unfamiliar size of him, gripping onto his shoulder.

Tom quickly bottoms out, pushing all the way of him inside of you. He doesn't wait for you to adjust to his size. He starts to pound his hips mercilessly into you, fucking you in a relentless pace.

"Ohhh! Fuck! ToOoMMm!" You shut your eyes and titled your head back.

"Yes! Yes! That's it moan my name!" He grins loving the way your face contorts to pleasure drunk. "You wanted my cock the moment you laid your eyes on me, huh? Looking at me with all of that slutty eyes, you know what you're doing, darling," he says to your ears as his cock pounds mercilessly to your tight channel.

You couldn't reply to him even if you wanted to. You only look back to him and nod.

"Oh, T-tom!" You cry. Tears dripping down your cheek.

"Fuck, Y/N" he groans. Tom holds your face. He presses his lips to yours again, silencing you from screaming loud.

He got you a moaning mess that you don't care if someone could hear you or see this little scene in your car. You never fucked like this before. So good that you'd do anything to have him fuck you like this again and again. You'd give your pussy for him, five to nine, nine to five. Tom fucks you like the way you fantasize your filthiest fantasies.

You feel your walls clenching hard. And the white hot pleasure becomes too unbearable to hold back. A few more thrust, and you're spilling all over. You squal all over the car. Knees clamping together as all of your muscles tighten.

You never have orgasm like that. It is by far your most intense that after the pinnacle, you feel bliss. For a few seconds, the room is so quiet — so peaceful...

You open your eyes and stare at the roof of your car. All of a sudden, like a slap to your face, waking you back into reality, your door is pulled open from the outside. Quickly, you sit up and try to fix yourself, push down your dress and all but it is all helpless. You're so caught right-handed. Looking up, the person who caught you right-handed guilty is the one you hope for dear life it wont be— Tom Cruise. He's peering down, slightly bending to meet your eyes.

You feel so embarrassed that you couldn't even feel a thing or think anything.

"Your dad wanted me to tell you lunch is off... meetings." He tells.

You just sit there feeling like you're slowly crippling to die. The optimistic side of you still whispers that perhaps he didn't see nothing. You have a tinted window afterall.... do you?

Tom gaze down at you with that light up, amused emerald eyes. Then slightly the corner of his lips pulled up to a smirk, like he's been there for a while and just watched you pleasuring yourself.

"Have a great day, Y/N," he mischievously smiles and closes back your door.

[kaffiko]

a risky game

pairing - tom cruise x fem!reader summary - after your friend on set tells you she likes tom, you realise that they can't happen, because you like tom, and you know you need to confess your feelings before it's too late. warnings - a dash of angst, but mostly just fluff word count - 2.1k

you recalled the first time you'd met tom cruise. he was so incredibly handsome. his large, deep, green eyes and his shiny brunette hair... he was majestic. not only was he dazzling, but tom was driven and talented. when he introduced himself, shaking your hand, his voice was deep and charismatic.

although you had worked with many huge movie stars throughout your career, none of them came close to the way tom made you feel. he wanted you to be comfortable, like you were made to be a part of the cast. it was one of his ideas to make the movie a more authentic experience. you supposed that was why you never acted on your feelings. he was determined, and focused on his career. it seemed as if tom could never be interested in a relationship with someone on set.

as the filming continued, you kept your feelings towards tom bottled up inside you. you talked to him completely out of professionalism. of course, you didn't want to be awkward around him, so you told him stories of your family, your career, and he did the same. you learned so many amazing things about him, his family, how he raised up into the industry. the only thing that did was make you want him more. but you knew, attraction was a risky game.

tom was kind to everyone, though he had a special spot for you. he'd had many lead roles with various actresses, who were all beautiful and charming, but they weren't even close to being in the same vicinity as you. he knew you were oblivious to it, but you were on his mind twenty-four-seven, no one else. the first day tom laid eyes on you, shook your hand, saw your beautiful smile, he knew he had fallen for you. he was entranced by your gorgeous y/e/c eyes, y/h/c hair, your slight pink cheeks, everything. to him, everything about you was flawless.

as much as tom wanted you, he knew he could never have you. he was a couple years older than you, and so immensely famous that everyone he'd ever been with was scared of the news circulating them. tom didn't ever want that to happen to you.

consequently, the two of you kept your feelings for each other to yourselves. exchanging glances, smiles, and small talk was all you could ever do.

now, you find yourself in tom's arms. his shirt is off, with you still fully clothed, though both your lips were puffy and pink from the previous kiss, make-out, whatever you want to call it, scene. it was heavenly. kissing tom was exactly how you envisioned it, like having a taste of something delicious, but you had to share it with your sibling. his lips were soft on yours, but the kiss was rough. your hands ran through his fluffy hair, melting completely into him. meanwhile, tom's left hand was placed firmly on your waist, while his right was moving up and down your body. you swore you heard him groan into your mouth at one point.

tom, himself, the director, and the producers loved the scene, but tom loved it on a whole other level, and in a completely different way. having your lips on his felt like a dream that he wanted to last forever. after that scene, tom loved you even more, if that was even possible.

your makeup artist, hanna, would often give you a lecture on how you should confess to tom. she knew everything about everyone, including how the two of you were apparently 'head over heels' for one another. hanna was the same makeup artist for almost everyone, since they wanted to spend more money on sets instead of makeup, so she was on top of all the gossip. half the time, you were still part asleep, so you paid no attention. that is, until she mentioned someone else was soon going to shoot her shot.

"i'm sorry, what?!" you semi-yelled, fully aware there were other actors still getting ready. your makeup artist nodded at you.

"yep. little miss lindsay turner is going to go for your man! you can't let that happen, can you?" hanna grinned. god, she was trying to get to you, and it was working.

you and lindsay certainly weren't close friends, but she was the only person you talked to at lunch besides tom. despite all the chatter that was going around, you never would have imagined lindsay actually liking tom. sometimes, she would get a little touchy, holding onto his arm as she giggled, and although you thought it was a little weird at first, you knew it was all platonic. at least, that's what you thought you knew.

it made you nervous. for the first time in your life, after a long time, you felt fear, and all the happy thoughts from the past few days had disintegrated into thin air. lindsay was undeniably beautiful. everyone admired her luscious red hair - they thought she was prettiest red head they'd seen in their entire lives. it hurt to say that you did, sort of, agree. tom could look even better with a girl like lindsay, why would he ever choose you?

lindsay and tom also had a lot in common, she was delighted to work with someone who was just as motivated as she was. she spoke with such confidence in her voice that it washed away all that was in yours. you felt invisible whenever lindsay was in the same room as you.

you sighed, looking at hanna hopelessly, "what do i do, hanna?"

she smiled, "well, i'm gonna make you look extra good today, even though you already look perfect on a daily basis. luckily for you, you have one of those date scenes with tom, so you need to look glammed up anyway. getting him to fall for you, not like he hasn't already," she winked, "is all about your mentality. you need to hint that you are thinking about tom in the scene, and not his character."

hanna was right. today, had, yet another, scene where you needed to kiss tom. she continued, "you need to make him love you, no one gives a damn about professionalism and his character, and what not." she finished your makeup, which was stunning, and handed you your costume. by the time she was done with the finishing touches, even you admitted you looked good.

"can we get y/n on in two minutes?" a voice from outside called.

"alright, y/n, go get him girl." hanna breathed out, patting your shoulders. you smiled at her quickly before leaving the room.

when tom saw you, his jaw quite literally dropped. he always found you stunning, but today, you were a different kind of stunning. you approached him, smiling warmly. "hey," you said.

his eyes scanned you quickly. you felt your cheeks heat up. was tom cruise really checking you out? "wow," tom chuckled, breathlessly, "you look... great."

you laughed lightly, stunned by his shocked expression, "thank you. you do too."

tom was dressed in a crisp, white dress shirt, paired with black slacks. his outfit matched with your sparkling, white dress and black heels. the scene was meant to be at a fancy restaurant, where tom's character took yours out on a date, and near the end, the two of you would share a passionate kiss. you couldn't help but smirk as lindsay discreetly gritted her teeth.

there were only a few minutes left before the shooting of the scene started, though that didn't stop lindsay from pulling you aside just as you were about to walk into the room. "hey, y/n," lindsay whispered, "i need to tell you something."

you looked at her, about ninety percent sure of what she was going to say next. "you have to promise you won't tell anyone though," she added.

you placed a hand on her shoulder. that was one of the many things lindsay hated about you. you were so, so kind, it made her feel guilty of how much she despised you. occasionally, she would think to herself, 'it's just a man', but it really wasn't just a man. it was tom cruise. lindsay was extremely envious of you. while you didn't know it, every single member of the cast was wrapped around your finger, especially tom. lindsay knew there was no way of competing against you. so, in order to score tom, she thought she had to do what she had originally been dreading.

"i promise. your secret's safe with me." you whispered back.

lindsay took a deep breath, then sighed it out, "i like tom." the words were like bullets, piercing your flesh, and racing straight through. you saw it coming, yet here you are, speechless. just when everything was going well for you, a pretty girl like lindsay had to ruin it.

"i-" you stuttered, struggling to even find words, "tom's great. he's an amazing and talented guy, you should totally shoot your shot."

lindsay beamed at your words, thrilled you didn't yell at her. "that's exactly what i was thinking!" she squealed, "i was going to tell him today, but i wanted your approval first. you know, girl best friends never let another girl steal them."

such a backhanded statement. you could feel the glare she gave you from a mile away. 'approval', 'girl best friend', 'steal'. you decided that if she said another word, you would hire a hitman to crawl into her trailer and stab her.

to save yourself trouble, you cut the conversation short, "you're absolutely right. you need to tell him, he actually really likes you. he thinks you're beautiful." you purposely used the same tone of voice as her and dragged out the 'beautiful'. "i need to go now. good luck, lindsay!"

lindsay watched as you walked down the hall, your glossy hair swishing each step you took. she was relieved she didn't need to say anything more.

she felt her hope fade each time she conversed with you, and this time, it might have just all gone away.

your mouth curved into a small smile just as tom placed his hand on top of yours. the cameras were solely on the two of you. tom's eyes were staring directly into your own, his gaze safe and lustful. "you're beautiful." he said, still looking attentively at you. you stayed silent, as mentioned in the script, but you continued smiling.

tom leaned in, just slightly. you did the same a couple seconds later, and soon, the two of you were almost touching. you felt his warm breath graze against your lips. tom leaned in a little more, placing one small kiss, then pulling away. you loved it. so much, that you wanted more. you leaned in again. this time, the kiss was different. it was as if you found the delicious delicacy again, and needed to selfishly devour the whole thing.

the director yelled cut, and the two of you pulled apart. after that kiss, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

you couldn't keep looking at tom every day and pretend you didn't feel more than friendship. you couldn't talk to tom, and hide away everything you wanted to tell him. attraction was a risky game, but it was one you were willing to play.

"tom." he was still sitting across from you. his head was bowed down to fix his shirt, but he looked up at the sound of your voice.

"i love you." you managed to say through shaky breaths.

tom smiled, shaking his head, "y/n, the camera isn't rolling anymore."

"no," you stopped tom, "i'm serious. let me say it again. i love you."

he was frozen. the most still you'd ever seen anyone be. tom couldn't believe the words that had just come out of your mouth. all these moments, where he could've said something, and didn't, were suddenly all a waste of time. if only he had known earlier, he could've stopped himself from this misery of hiding his, clearly obvious, feelings.

"i totally understand if you don't feel the same, i mean, you're a huge movie-" you were immediately cut off by tom's lips crashing onto yours. you instantly kissed back. you were finally kissing tom cruise, off camera. it was complete bliss.

"i love you too." tom said, bringing your hand up and placing small kisses on your knuckles.

on the side, lindsay was only slightly angry. she was definitely jealous, but she had realised just how amazing you were for tom. he looked at you with such love in his eyes, she came to the conclusion that he would never look at anyone else the same.

you were too happy to notice lindsay, though you would've been glad to know she wasn't fuming.

you were focused entirely on tom, and he was focused entirely on you. attraction was a risky game, and it was one you had won.

[warnersister]

Post Show Pleazures (Twizted Bliss) - Rockstar!Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

[Bradley Bradshaw x reader, rooster x reader]

Summary: your band was performing as DaggeR 1’s warmup act on their world tour; a group significantly younger than the Nu metal heads - and Rooster thought he could handle having you around, could handle his own hard on’s. But you’re a month in and Manchester proves otherwise.

Warnings: smut, age gap relationship 35//24, degradation, p in v, no protection, oral (m receiving), begging, basically Roo being a perv

This was originally about Munky from Korn, but it didn’t do well so if you’re into Korn maybe check out the original here

Rooster was a respectful guy, he’s midway through his umpteenth fucking world tour for God’s sake, a grown ass man. He kept his distance, stayed way back, promised himself he wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable; only a young thing after all.

It was all fun and games until it came time for the bands to be introduced to one another. DaggeR 1 had sit in their studio and their manager had put on your music for them all to listen to before they agreed to anything, just like them - a Nu metal mashup with screaming and incoherency every now and then. And they had to admit, you could fucking sing.

And then it was organised, the posters printed, the ads sent out - Twizted Blizter would front for DaggeR 1 in their upcoming tour, formally meeting the week prior in order to get all your affairs straight. “I’m telling you dude she’s real good” Jake said, pushing open the door to the studio as himself and Rooster discussed you.

Rooster stopped in his tracks when he was faced with a young woman with her hands on her hips, stood like some undead Avril Lavigne, smoky eyeshadow, pierced brow, sharp dark nails and this stupid shit eating smirk that he could kiss off your face- wait what?

“Hey! This is the band I was telling you guys about!” Jake introduced you all to each member of the band, Rooster’s eyes lingering on you a little more than necessary. And as you shook his hand and your tongue protruded to wet your blackened lips, teeth bared as you grinned up at him and voice a hell of a lot softer than he expected judging on your voice’s ability to warp into some hellish chant. “It’s a pleasure to meet you” you say meekly, nails scratching his skin slightly as he reluctantly pulled his hand away from your own. “You’ve got rhythm” he tells you and you smile again, appreciatively “that’s what they all say” you reply with a wink. He hadn’t a chance to compute that underlying meaning that sentence suggested, before you shook Coyote’s hand.

“Y’ wanna watch the band?” Coyote asked, walking out of his dressing room; beer in hand. Rooster looked at him and shrugged. “Alright man” your set had already started, band already getting into their stride as the beat gyrated through the venue’s flooring. Rooster took a swig from the bottle as he watched you throw profanities into the mic; hair frazzled around your head, makeup running, sweat dripping off your body, nails digging into your thighs and creating crescent shaped indentations beginning to leak with blood as you scraped them up your skin like a satanic tattoo artist.

Rooster barely made it through the first song before he had to force his way back to the bathrooms, just to rub one out before the show - angrily cursing himself as he hated the way he thought about you, the way you carried yourself, the way he could have you. You were over a decade younger than him and this was disgusting. But as he climaxed and moaned out your name, it felt so goddamn right.

“Mr Bradshaw?” He heard from behind him as he prepared for his own set, head still foggy. He turned to see you staring up at him through your lashes, fingers on one hand fiddling with the index nail on the other, nervously chewing your lip. He gulped at the way you called him. “Yeah hun?” He found himself saying, like some pensioner talking to the teenage intern at the nutcase ward. “Did you like our set?” You asked him, tone dripping with nerves. “Holy fuck yeah it sure was good” he tells you with a smile “really?” Your face lit up as you took a step forward and he certainly didn’t step back. “Yeah. Damn good singer you are.” He tells you and you giggle giddily. “Thank you” you tell him, appreciatively. “I really look up to you as an artist, Mr Bradshaw.” You tell him, honestly. And he almost can’t help but think your honey-laced words are fakery for the horny shit you were doing ten minutes ago. “You do?” He found himself asking, dreamily. Get your shit together, man. You nodded in response. “It’s an honour to be working with you and your band.” You say with a child-like grin, your eyes darting down and up again as fast as they had. “Best of luck for your set.” You said, taking a sip of water. “Not that you need it” you tell him, pivoting and walking in the other direction.

Rooster sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face, seeing his flustered reflection in the mirror across from him, distracted by the obvious wet patch on his trousers. Did you see that? Shit.

And that’s how it went for the rest of the North America tour. You’d play, he’d rub one out, and then he’d head to the stage already dripping in sweat as he’d see your eyes watching him tentatively.

It was on the way to the UK tour when the two bands were mingling on the plane, Rooster excusing himself to get a drink and walking past your group. He looked at your face, sleeping soundly in the arms of your drummer who looked like a shitty Travis Barker wannabe, who raised an eyebrow at Rooster and smirked.

He felt his nostrils flare as he walked on, having to force himself to walk past the two of you again only to see not-Travis stroking your hair and pushing it out of your face and Rooster could tell it was clearly for his benefit. He felt a twisting pang of jealously in his chest as whatshisface threaded a hand under your thighs to pull you closer. Rooster just shook his head and walked back to his seat.

God this is so fucking wrong.

Manchester, England. Ironically where your band formed so you knew exactly where all the best bars were in the area - and as usual, your band was on before DaggeR 1 - your expression hazy and dazed as you blared into the microphone, clawing at your own skin with such desperation Rooster so wished you’d take out on him. And of course, he had to have his inaugural trip to a more private area to sort out his predicament before anyone saw the boner he was nursing.

In his dressing room, he sat palming at the obvious tent in his pants. Cursing himself as he urged his cock for some sort of relief, moaning your name reiteratively like some sort of sickened chant. “Mr Bradshaw?” He heard your voice from the door as you looked at him with widened, evidently startled eyes. “Shit! I-” he began before you slammed the door behind you, him hearing a “sorry!” Squeaked from you and he rushed to pull his pants up and sprint for the door, grabbing your wrist before you could go anywhere. “Did you hear that?” He asked and you gulped with a slight nod. “Shit I’m so sorry-” he began as you pulled your hand away “I didn’t mean to interrupt-” “you must think I’m such a pervert.” He says, running his hands through his hair. “Look I’m so fucking sorry, you must think I’m a real creep, I’m so much older than you and I’m rubbing one out after your sets and it’s disgusting and-” he rants. “Mr Bradshaw” you cut him off and he looks at you. “It’s ok.” You say and he raises his brows. “It is?” You nod “it is perverted but it’s okay cause I get off to you too-” you say honestly and he grunts involuntarily. “You what?” “You heard me” you reply and he grits his jaw. “I can help you Mr Bradshaw-” “shit” he swears and drags you back into his dressing room, making sure to shut the door tightly and pushing you against it.

“Are you okay with what I’m ’bouta do to you?” He asks and you consent “I’m a grown ass woman Mr Bradshaw” you say “I’m okay with it” “shit call me that again” “Mr Bradshaw?” He groans “yeah that” “Mr Bradshaw” his knees go weak and he slinks back onto his couch with a groan, watching you sink to your knees as you undo his pants and palming him through his boxers. “Please forgive me I’m so disgusting” he says, as you take him into your hand “I’m a filthy pervert” he breathes as you lick a stripe up the bottom of his cock “you’re too pure for a sick old man like me” he says, as your head begins to bob “I don’t deserve this.” He says, embarrassed how quickly he was building up to his orgasm “please make me cum” he begs as you hollow out your cheeks and he shoots cum into the back of your throat, throwing his head back as he watches you swallow his cum through hooded eyelids.

“Shit” he groans as he pulls you forward as he stands up, laying you on your back on the couch “how much do you like these pants?” He asks and you shrug as he uses a decent deal of effort to rip the flimsy material along with your underwear. “They were expensive though-” you sigh “shit I’m sorry. I should’ve checked, I’m such a sleaze. So desperate for you. I’ll take you shopping, I sound like some goddamn sugar daddy-” “Bradley, it’s okay.” You tell him and he groans pathetically as he sinks into you, your arms reaching around his neck as he peppers kisses onto your stage-sweated face. “M sorry. ‘M such a perv.” He reiterates again and again and you shut him up by kissing him firmly on the lips and clawing your sharp nails into his back.

“You are a perv” you breathe “‘nd this shouldn’t feel right” you agree and he cries out “I look up to you” you say “and I’m letting you down” he groans, feeling you hook your legs around his waist. “But I can’t stop it’s so good” he moans as he cums inside of you, watching your face contort in pleasure as you came moments after. “Shit I came inside of you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” “you’re good” you breathe with a smile, catching your breath as he pulls out of you and provides you with an oversized pair of khakis in lieu of your trousers in odder to accommodate the lack there of, collecting himself and looking at you, hands delicately reaching up to cradle your face as he looks you over, touch so gentle as if you were an antique doll. “M sorry you’re too good for me. He says, kissing your forehead. “It’s okay Mr Bradshaw, I liked it.” He groaned as you kissed his palm and leant into his touch.

“Oh Mr Bradshaw, I made your back bleed” you say, eyes full of concern as a drop of blood seeps onto your thumb. He takes your hand in his and licks the blood off your thumb “good I deserve to be punished.” He says, walking you backward until your back hit the door, leaning against it and effectively trapping you on it as he leans down to pepper your lips with hot open mouth kisses. “M such a pervert”

“Two minutes, Rooster” you heard from beyond the door as he moaned, frustrated. “You’ll be great, Mr Bradshaw. Like you always are” you tell him, eyes full of pride. “And I’ll be in here when you’re done” you promise and he whimpers “make sure you don’t have the pants on” he says, before smacking his own head “asshole” he curses himself as you open the door “go be great, Rooster” you say as he walks over the threshold. “Don’t you want a shirt?” You ask and he walks away with a bleeding back “nah they can watch me bleed knownin’ it was you, princess” he says, thrusting his hands into his hair as he cursed himself for being such a crude and corruptive son of a bitch.

And he cried and fucked you all over again once the show was done, feeling every bit guilty- but not really.

And in the following show, Leeds, he sat through your whole set and as soon as you walked off stage, he picked you up at the waist and slung you over his shoulder, marching running to his dressing room not really taking care as to who sees, offering a cocky look to your drummer as you head past him. “Pervert” he says under his voice “hell yeah I am!” He shouts with a holler as he licked the exposed skin on your upper thigh, “and she’s gonna fuck me and call me names until I feel so guilty I cry!” slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

[rooster-the-love-of-my-life]

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."

taglist:

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[simplyundeniable98]

i don’t know if anything will make me happier then i was when i first watched this scene.

[fandoms--fluff]

Hcs for being Natasha “Phoenix’s” sister from top gun?

Being Phoenix's Sister Headcannons

She's five years older than you but holds that over you from time to time

You met Bradley and Jake after her Top Gun class graduation

Bradley treats you as his own little sister

And Hangman annoys you to no end, to which you annoy him right back

You've also got a flying license, you're just not a naval aviator

Nat and Bradley taught you how to fly an F-14 in sligjt combat, that was a week after their top gun grad.

Under no circumstances does Phe let you use the stove or the oven. She barely let's you use the microwave without her watch when she's state side

^Which is fair, considering the amount of fires you've had to extinguish

You live off a bunch if vending machine food at the top gun base

And that's how you met your sister's CO, Pete Mitchell, for the special detachment her, Bradly and jackass (aka Jake) were called back for. He caught you kicking the vending machine since it stopped half way through, not dropping the bag of chips you paid for.

To which you guys had a pretty good conversation together, forgetting to mention you're not an actual aviator.

He didn't learn about who you are until after the suicide mission. He saw you and Nat huh each other tightly after everyone got back state side, on the beach. Everyone was relaxing on the beach after the huge excitement that had happened.

Nat introduced you to him as her little sister, and you chuckled as his mouth gaped in surprise.

Everyone watches as you throw one of the footballs they brought at Hangman after him insulting your sister.

^Bradley giving you a fistbump and Nat sighs while trying to hide her smile.

You, Nat and Halo have a big sleepover movie night, just the three of you girls. Halo taking a liking to you, seeing a lot of Nat in you.

You 'borrow' a bunch of Nat's navy sweaters and wear them around the base and the Hard Deck, seeing how many people will belive that you're in the Navy.

You and Penny become good friends at the bar

^you learn some (a lot of) dirt on Maverick from her

Bradley explains to you about his relationship with Maverick and you may or may not have smacked him upside the head about how he cut connection with the man

^to which he agreed he deserved

The whole dagger squad now treat you as their baby sister and you can't go anywhere without 'protection' aka one of them.

You love your big sister to death, when you were younger you wanted to be just like her. Strong, loyal, pretty and much more.

Amelia and you become good friends, you like a mentor to her and teaching her about different flight maneuvers with model planes, everything you learnt from Nat and Bradley...and maybe....maybe Jake.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Consequences

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: While hiding your relationship is an essential requirement of maintaining it, Maverick struggles to hide his feelings when another man becomes involved.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, and where would we be without the angst, people??

WC: 3000+

This is Part 3 in the There Are Rules universe.

You’re packing up when Maverick calls your name from the front of the room. You look up at him warily as the officers around you start rising from their seats.

Maverick clears his throat, his eyes locked on yours and, even as the rest of the room is bustling after a long day of flying and debriefs, you’re suddenly completely still. Everything always slows down when his gaze settles on you.

“Can you hang back a minute?” he asks.

You nod, sliding out of your seat. You head to the front against the flow of traffic while Maverick walks around his desk to meet you. He stands a good five feet away, riffling through some papers in his hand, until the last of the officers leaves the room.

Maverick glances up at you once everyone else has gone, gingerly setting the stack of papers down on his desk. “Lieutenant,” he says quietly. “That was some flying today.”

You blink at him, a small smile spreading on your face. Surely, he didn’t call you up here to talk about aviation.

Maverick watches you levelly, not a hint of humor in his face. “You broke the hard deck.”

“For a second,” you say, rolling your eyes. “To avoid a collision –”

“Breaking the hard deck is a collision with the ground,” Maverick interjects.

You sigh. “You would’ve done the same.”

Maverick shakes his head. “You can’t keep using that excuse.”

You stare at him moodily. “You’re not denying it.”

Maverick furrows his eyebrows. “We train like we fight, Lieutenant. So that we can fight like we train. You keep breaking the hard deck during exercise, you’ll end up crashing during combat.”

You seethe under the guise of a polite nod. “Yes, sir,” you reply.

Maverick narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side as though he isn’t convinced that you’re done arguing. “I don’t care if you’ve got bogeys on your tail chasing into the cliffside – you might as well have gone straight through the rock.”

You glare at him, holding back every single retort that threatens to escape your tightly sealed lips. “Yes, sir,” you manage to utter, gritting your teeth the moment the words leave your mouth.

Maverick watches you patiently, waiting for you to dispute his logic. When you don’t, he takes a step forward. “Lieutenant,” he says calmly, his eyes sweeping over your face.

“Captain,” you reply.

He moves just a touch closer, letting his fingers skim the back of your hand. “I need you to be more careful,” he says in a near-whisper.

His proximity dizzies you until you can hardly decipher his words. “Mm-hm,” you respond vaguely.

His thumb draws a couple of circles into your palm, but he never quite takes your hand. “You’re dismissed, Lieutenant,” he says in a low voice.

You close your eyes, letting out a wavering sigh when his breath warms the apple of your cheek. “Aye aye, sir,” you say quietly.

Maverick releases a partially stifled groan, pressing his head against yours for a moment before he steps away. “That shouldn’t turn me on,” he says, backing away further as he holds his arm out, pointing at you.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?” you ask, a little bewildered because you’re still stranded in a moment that’s already passed.

“You calling me that,” he says, shutting his eyes and shaking his head as though he’s attempting to clear it of your sorcery.

“Sir?” you ask.

He laughs tensely. “Stop.”

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. “Captain?” you say innocently, exploiting his weakness now that you’ve caught on. You take a step forward.

He sighs, bringing a hand to his face. “This is bad,” he warns as you approach, although there’s an amused grin on his face.

You bite your lip, smirking. “Do you like it when I’m bad, Captain?”

Maverick’s mouth drops open for a second as he watches you in awe. “Lieutenant,” he says hoarsely, placing his hands on your arms before you can come any closer. “If you’re trying to test my self-restraint, you’re winning.”

“Am I?” you ask softly, trying to push yourself against his hold.

Maverick moves his head to one side, setting his jaw as though he’s bracing himself for a difficult task. “I’m begging you,” he whispers, turning back to look at you as his breathing becomes more pronounced. “Don’t come any closer.”

“You started it,” you say.

He nods. “I won’t make that mistake again,” he says, finally letting go of you and shaking out his hands wearily. “We can’t do this here. If anybody finds out –”

“I know, I know,” you say. “There will be consequences.

…

Later that evening, you meet your squadron at the Hard Deck. You nod at Maverick and Cyclone, who are seated at the bar, but walk past them to join your friends. You spend the night going over the day’s hops with Phoenix, kicking Rooster’s ass at pool, and exchanging furtive glances with your instructor who has yet to run out of creative reasons to look over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of your group near the back of the bar.

It has been two weeks since the locker room fiasco but, in all this time, you and Maverick have barely had a moment alone. Between the grueling training and keeping up appearances, there has hardly been time for romance, so when you see Maverick getting out of his seat and pulling his leather jacket over the fitted, white t-shirt he’s wearing, you can’t help the disappointment you feel.

You down your martini moodily and rise slowly, leaning on the table.

“You doing okay?” Phoenix asks.

You nod, feeling the significant weight of your head as you perform said action. The third martini must have been a double. Still, you straighten your back and release the edge of the table. “Never better,” you respond, taking care not to lose your balance as you spin on the spot. You let out a sigh upon seeing Maverick’s back as he nears the door and start unhurriedly for the bar.

But before you reach it, a man in service khakis steps into your path. Not only is he wearing an exuberant grin, he’s also still sporting his aviators despite the late hour and lack of sunlight indoors. “Hey there, gorgeous,” he says in a jubilant voice.

Cyclone looks up from where he’s seated at the bar and raises his eyebrows in your direction before pointedly turning away. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Maverick has come to a halt near the exit.

“What’s your poison?” the man asks, putting a hand on your arm and gesturing to the bar.

You watch him quietly for a moment, trying to decide whether you’re devious enough to take advantage of the situation. After all, the moment the man lays his hand on you, Maverick turns to watch you from where he still stands by the door, and you can’t say that the pissed off expression he’s wearing isn’t wildly attractive. But, ultimately, you look up at the man who’s now putting his arm around your shoulder, and say “I’m good, thanks,” and slip out from under his embrace.

“Come on,” the man insists, taking a hold of your wrist as you start to walk away. “One drink, sweetheart.”

In your periphery, you see Maverick start to make his way back toward the bar. “No, thank you,” you reiterate, pulling your hand out of his grasp.

But when you turn away, the man steps into your path. “Don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he says, putting his hands on your waist.

Before you can respond, you hear Maverick’s voice, much closer than you would expect him to be. “I believe the lady said no.”

You glance over to see the threatening look on his face despite the composure in his voice.

“Hey gramps, how ’bout you take a hike?” The man chuckles.

You notice Cyclone turning back to face the three of you, his eyebrows hovering even higher than the last time you saw them. He meets your gaze with a cringe just as Maverick narrows his eyes. “Step away,” he says in a low voice. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

The man leers at Maverick. “Or what?” he asks, tugging you forward.

It takes but a moment for Maverick to wedge himself between the two of you and grab the man by the collar of his uniform, nearly lifting him off the ground. “I suggest you get out of here right the fuck now,” Maverick growls, displacing the man several feet. He drives his back into the bar before finally letting go of his shirt.

“Woah! Woah!” the man yells, clearly not prepared to take a beating for what he thought might be a decent hookup. He holds his hands up, cowering. “I’m leaving, pop.”

Maverick glares at the man as he stalks off in a hurry. You glance nervously between Maverick’s curled up fists and the relaxed set of Cyclone’s shoulders. He’s watching Maverick in amusement. “Well, that was entertaining,” he comments while Maverick continues to seethe.

You wince as Maverick’s jaw hardens in response, not entirely optimistic that Cyclone won’t end up in his path of destruction. You bite your lip as Maverick finally releases a controlled breath and looks in your direction. His eyes sweep fleetingly over your face, although he holds your gaze for a deliberate moment before turning to Cyclone. “I can’t stand that kind of arrogance,” Maverick mutters, reaching for a bar stool next to his superior.

Cyclone smirks at him pointedly. “That’s ironic.”

Maverick gives Cyclone a flat look but doesn’t respond.

Cyclone takes advantage of the break in conversation to glance in your direction. “You alright, Lieutenant?”

You gravitate warily toward the bar. “I could use a drink,” you respond honestly.

Cyclone calls over the bartender while Maverick looks over his shoulder to steal a glance in your direction. He’s wearing an unreadable expression and this about doubles your level of anxiety. Cyclone distributes six shots of Tequila between the three of you and, lifting his shot glass, says, “I thought you were leaving, Maverick.”

Maverick eyes Cyclone impassively. “Is that your toast, sir?” he asks.

Cyclone chuckles. “Why not?” Then he downs his shot.

You follow suit, squeezing your eyes shut as the bitterness of the liquor settles in your mouth. You let out a quick breath before sticking a wedge of lime between your teeth and cringing as you bite down. When you notice both Cyclone and Maverick watching you in amusement, you give them a forced smile. “Oh my god,” you mutter around the lime wedge still in your mouth. “So good.”

The men laugh and you take a breath of relief, feeling the tension dissipate. Maverick raises his second shot glass and, while Cyclone reaches over the bar for the saltshaker, winks at you with a discreet smile. This tiny gesture is enough to send a ripple of electricity through your body.

Cyclone lands back on his barstool with a loud sigh and offers Maverick the salt. Maverick holds up a hand to indicate that he isn’t interested so Cyclone just shrugs and starts sprinkling his hand.

You glance at Maverick just as his eyes linger on yours once again and the desire to touch him becomes disastrously overwhelming. You feel your heart begin to race when you recognize the longing on his face before he squares his jaw and looks into his shot glass. He brings it to his lips, but Cyclone stops him with an outraged “Maverick!” He looks at Cyclone in surprise while the latter shakes his head in disapproval. “It’s your turn to give a toast.”

Maverick lets out a weak chuckle, reverting his gaze to the liquid in his glass. “To the mission, of course,” he says. He takes his shot quickly and then looks at you with a mild squint, as though he’s studying your reaction.

“Of course,” Cyclone agrees and, as he tips his shot glass back, you feel the back of Maverick’s hand brush lightly against your knee.

That’s when the troupe of enthusiastic aviators arrives at the bar. “Excuse the interruption,” Hangman says. “But this looks like a party I want to crash.”

Maverick raises his eyebrows at him. “Typically, I advise my pilots against crashing,” he says.

You chuckle, rolling your eyes at Maverick’s joke while the rest of your squadron gathers around.

Maverick rises, allowing the newcomers access to the counter, and gives you a subtle wink as he moves through the swam of aviators. “See you kids tomorrow,” he says with a smirk.

“Captain!” you exclaim, leaping from your seat and squeezing through the bodies crowding the counter.

Maverick glances back at you warily. “Lieutenant?”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering how appropriate your ensuing request might sound. “Mind giving me a ride back to base?”

Maverick blinks at you mutely before his eyes briefly slide over to Cyclone and then back to you again. “Sure,” he says pleasantly.

You give him a tight smile before turning to bid your friends a good night. Cyclone gives you a quick nod and returns his attention to the beer someone’s just handed him. Apprehensively, you make your way toward Maverick, who’s about halfway to the door. Maverick turns on his heel as soon as you reach him and marches briskly toward the exit. “Keep up, Lieutenant,” he mutters under his breath as you pick up your pace.

“Are you mad?” you ask quietly as he holds the door open for you.

Maverick meets your gaze. “No,” he says with a shift of the jaw as he fights to keep a straight face. “Impatient.”

You raise your eyebrows, stepping over the threshold with a small laugh. Maverick walks out after you and gestures to the parking lot at the side of the building.

Once the two of you are past the large windows of the establishment, you feel Maverick’s fingers weave through your own. The afternoon sun has sunk below the horizon and the long shadows of palm trees start to melt into the soft darkness of dusk. It's thanks to this cover of nightfall that Maverick pulls you aside behind the Hard Deck and, after a quick glance over his shoulder, finally looks you in the eye. “Good evening, Lieutenant,” he says and, even in your pocket of darkness, hidden between the spotlights of two unsuspecting streetlamps, you see the twitch of his lips as his mouth curls upward.

You smile back at him. “Good evening, Captain,” you respond, not meaning to sound quite as sweet as you do, only you’re so enamored by his eyes, it’s damn near impossible to keep from melting.

Maverick brings your hand up and presses it to his mouth, closing his eyes as he lets out a breath. He shakes his head, meeting your gaze with a more serious expression. “Sorry I intervened,” he says.

You blink at him in surprise. “I’m not,” you respond. “I mean, I know you know I can handle myself.”

Maverick chuckles. “I assure you, I don’t doubt your competence.”

You lower your gaze to watch his hand tighten around yours. “It was nice, having you stand up for me.”

Maverick reaches up with his other hand to lift your chin. “I almost decked him.”

You laugh. “I noticed.”

“I think I reacted before I realized that I probably shouldn’t have.”

“Hmm.” You pause, searching his face. “I know the feeling,” you say finally, perhaps a tad sarcastically.

He watches you quietly for a moment, knowing exactly what you’re getting at. “Your barrel roll,” he concedes.

“I was inverted before I even realized it.”

Maverick nods. “You’ve got great instincts.”

You gaze at him thoughtfully. “My point is, I don’t think I would have done the same maneuver at a lower altitude. Another reflex would have kicked in.”

“Look, I’m not going to stand here and deny that you’re a talented pilot. But I’m also not going to commend you for a reckless stunt that put your life in jeopardy and nearly caused your pursuing aircraft to lose control,” Maverick states firmly.

You pout your lips teasingly. “Not even a little?”

Maverick grins reluctantly. He brings his head down to rest over yours. He’s silent for a moment, breathing calmly, in unison with you. “That was some flying today, Lieutenant,” he mutters finally, echoing his morning lecture in an infinitely more agreeable tone. Affectionate. Proud. “Couldn’t have done it better myself,” he half-whispers. His hand moves to cradle your cheek while he places a tender, burning kiss on the corner of your mouth. Your lips part as you let a soft, whimpering sigh escape in the midst of your mounting desire. His lips linger longingly on your cheek before he shifts his weight to move closer and kiss you again. He’s not even kissing your mouth and the passion of the moment is already driving you wild.

Then, just as you’re about to insist on a proper French kiss, a booming voice impedes your plans. “Maverick!”

Maverick leaps away from you like he’s been stung, as though this action might negate what Cyclone has undoubtedly already witnessed. “Sir,” he starts, his tone confident despite the alarm on his face. “Let me explain” –

Cyclone silences him by holding up a hand. He glances mutely between you and Maverick. “I don’t have to tell you what kind of position this puts me in, Captain.”

“I understand that, sir,” Maverick responds with a stiff nod.

Cyclone stands quietly for what seems like a full minute before speaking again. “This ends now,” Cyclone declares levelly, the hushed quality of his voice adding a threatening tone to the statement.

“There’s nothing to end,” Maverick assures him. “This was an error in judgement, and it will not happen again.”

Cyclone juts out his chin in a grimace and shoots a stern glance in your direction. “This ends now,” he repeats, ensuring to enunciate every syllable to emphasize his point.

You don’t say anything, but Cyclone doesn’t wait for you to respond. He heads out into the parking lot, leaving the two of you behind.

Maverick drags a hand over his face. “Of all the fucking people” –

But you don’t let him finish. “Nothing to end?” you say hurtfully. He looks up at you wearily. “An error in judgement?”

Maverick watches you resignedly. “What would you call it?”

The despair on his face frightens you; makes you consider the possibility that his response to Cyclone might have been more deliberate than simply a spontaneous evasive maneuver.

Maverick sighs. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. You meet his gaze; his eyes brim with tears but his jaw is set. “I take full responsibility.”

As if you want an apology. As if you need to place blame. You take a step toward him, but he retreats.

He lets out a labored breath and blinks back a flood of tears. Then, he says in a strained whisper, “This ends now.”

You might’ve accidentally broken the hard deck but, just like that, Maverick intentionally breaks your heart.

Read Part 4

Tag List:

Not sure when Mav's tag list got so long! As always, let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my works <3 The rest of the list is in the comments.

@wandering-wah

@callsign-sunshine

@ghost-heart34

@birdy-bat-writes

@matya4

@wkndwlff

@nyx2021

@bellamy1998

@oliviah-25

@alexxavicry

@army24--7

@thefandomimagines

@dracosluvbot

@smit41

@scenesofobx

@Criminalmindsandmarvel

@lunamoonbby

@malums-trash-can

@malindacath

@karleetakeenan

@callsign-echo

@toothemoonanddback

@broketraveler87

@atarmychick007

@shanimallina87

@creativitybeware

@xoxabs88xox

@Yoyop7

@hallecarey1

@nik2blog

@rrocky0ah

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@lilianashomaresparza

@latetedslesetoiles

@Elenavampire21

@starberryhorse

@ginger-gabsq

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@risingtripletaurus

@callsignmaverick5

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@hermaeusmorax

@littlebadariell

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

[missmarveledsblog]

Where the hell have you been ... all my life ( Bradley Bradshaw x reader )

summary : when a pretty woman shows up at the bar well there's a questions on rooster lips only to find out she not that much of a stranger

warning : fluffy as hell it since my bet on it series been angsty as hell , age gap 10 years , fast burn because this rooster is a hopeless romantic

Friday a beautiful day of the week , one that signified the start of the weekend , one of sleeping in and being lazy . one of not training recruits or test flights  it was glorious day of the week and what made it better was having a drink or two after long hard week .  The perfect place to do such a thing was the hard deck of course a place  he know  all his life , fond memories that laced in it walls  and now he was following foot steps of the greatest men in his life . something surreal about being back even though he’s been here years now.  In all his memories and all his life though he never saw the place as busy as it was shit he couldn’t even see the bar at all as his fellow naval officers crowds the space excitedly. 

“ hey bradshaw got you a beer “ nat held the bottle up as he noticed the rest of the bar was empty , women tag chaser sitting at vacant table eyeing up the men that weren’t paying attention . 

“ penny have a deal on or something ?” he took the beer his head tilt wondering what the commotion could be . 

“some thing like that ?” she snorted as she looked to see her fellow dagger squad members coming back pouting like children . 

“ what’s wrong with you  guys “ 

“ we couldn’t get to talk to her long , jake did though” javy rolled his eyes . 

“ yeah she rejected him “ fanboy snorted . 

“ she did not reject me , all she said was she busy which she is “ the blonde shrugged . 

“ a girl all of this over a girl” he laughed wavy his arm in the direction of  the crowd . 

“ a very hot girl even bob went up “ payback smirked.

“ what are you highschoolers “ rooster snorted . 

“ once you see her man you will understand” was all jake said before he and guys  spilt into teams . 

He hated it , hated how right jake was because when the crowd started to push back either reject or fear of rejection he caught the sight of a woman that made his throat dry up and his mouth water all in one hell if he knew that’s what was waiting at the bar all this time he would of climbed his fellow navy brothers.  Everything was perfection from those eyes that sparkle or a smile warm enough to rivaled  the sun . maybe he was a highschooler because the moment his eyes hit hers well fuck he almost swallowed the bottle whole , glass and all .  He didn’t listen to his friends  “ told you so “ or  much of anything as  he strolled leisurely over to the bar or though he thinks he did .  he watch and waited his turned how he was almost  a goofy grin on his face as he watched her laugh and joke with the older men trying to relive their youth til that smile was directed at him , how  he went from wow to deer in headlights real fast . not wanting to screw it up or make a fool of himself as she got closer and closer. 

“ what can  i get you “ she smiled nearly melting him into the seat and he sighed out his order. 

Sitting on the seat he turned to see an older guy nodded and winking before nudging his head  in her direction as bradley grimaced turning his attention to anything but . it was the beer it had to be the alcohol to why words where failing him . then she came back handing his beer bright smile once more before asking him if he needed anything else which at that point he should of said “ no thank you “ but instead he asked : 

“ i need to know where the hell you’ve been…  all  my life” .

He could feel the cringe of his own words and action building throughout  , cursing his brain and mouth for betraying him in such a way and yet astonishingly  she didn’t throw a drink  in his face or tell him get the hell out but instead she broke out into laughter .

“ on the ground  while your in the sky flyboy “ she called before heading to serve another patron . 

“ how you know i’m a fly boy “ he asked turning her attention back to him . 

“ because i know flyboys all my life can tell em a mile away “ she shrugged . 

“ parents in the navy ? or family member… please don't say a husband or boyfriend  “ he winked. 

“ nah none of that .. my dad is … speak of the devil “ she nodded to the door as he turned wondering which of his higher ups produced one of the most beautiful women he’s ever known to exist only for that smile to falter the moment his eyes clapped on pete mitchell . 

“ Mav.. oh my god y/n “ he gasped  .

 “ how you know my name?” her head tilted making her look even more adorable in his eyes . 

“ see you bumped into bradley , whats it been ten years since you seen each other” pete smiled proudly seeing the two together . 

“so that’s where i was all your life growing up “ she snorted . 

“ yeah not my proudest moment … should let me take you dinner make it up “ .

“ don’t you mean catch up “ pete asked as penny stood knowing smile looking between the two . 

“ whatever gets her to say yes to dinner and i stop looking like an idiot “ . 

“ wouldn’t want that “ she amused smile on her face . 

“ actually its quiet here so why don’t you get off early since start of your first night was so crazy “ penny winked . 

“ ok let me grab my stuff “  she shrugged . 

“ i’ll say by to my friends “ he nodded.  “ especially jake” he added almost bouncing to his group . 

“ what just happened “ pete scratched the back of his neck . 

“ just fate unfolding before your eyes ” penny smirked as she handed him a beer. 

The smile on his face , nothing could take it off not even bagman when he got to his friends . 

“ she turn ya down listen chicken i’ll take care of her” he snickered . 

“ i got a date see you tomorrow, maybe not ..” he went to turn only for them to crowd him.

“ how you get a date .. shit i should of went up  “ the blonde cursed . 

“ funny thing actually  i know her well last time i saw her was when she was a kid … that doesn’t sound good anyways she grown up and hot … “ 

“ stop talking before i call the cops “ nat grimaced. 

“ it’s not like that you sicko  , i mean is this is gonna be my future wife i can already tell so i’ll  keep you updated especially bagman and i’ll see you later “ he almost sang as he headed to where she was waiting . 

“ you ready to go old man ?” she asked walking out ahead of him . 

“ hey i’m not that old” he called after her the big smile on his face said he didn’t care . 

“ rooster gonna be my son in law isn’t he” pete sighed as he watched the two disappear out into the night .

“ i mean your already like a father figure in his life why not add in law at the end of it “ penny nudged him excited to see the story unfold .

He couldn't believe the shift in his night , he wanted to pinch himself to see if it was real that was til he felt the sting on his forearm . 

“ did you just pinch me ?” he chuckled . 

“ yeah i was asking where are we going ?” she laughed . 

“ oh yeah i should of asked where would you like huh?  “ he smiled nervously . 

“ here give me your phone “ she rolled her eyes taking it from him hand putting in her own address unaware to him . 

“  so what made you come to san diego and your mom how is she ?” he asked softly . 

“ mom is good married to another mom lila ,   oh and i came to go college and hopefully become a doctor dad’s trying to get me to  work on base but i told him it not how that works “ she rolled her eyes .

“ i knew it .. about your mom i mean her and Mav never made sense plus i’ve seen her eye up some of the moms  at your plays and stuff “ he exclaimed making that beautiful melody that was her laugh. 

“ dude you never realized  that my mom and Mav were never actually together it was just to my grandfather happy  and me a product of too many drinks and experimentation which honestly i wish my mom took to her grave , my dad got me and to look like he was well getting his shit together but well he’s pete mitchell that only last so long “ . 

“ now that you say it i never saw them be a couple like buddies at best “ his brows furrowed. 

“ he had more sexual tension with ice than he did my mom ,  but my mom is happiest she been in year and mama lila is awesome  all about vibes and auras  while my mom is still navy seriousness they balance each other out “ she explained . 

“  so navy baby with peace and love  turns out to be a doctor ?”he chuckled. 

“ healing hands bradshaw  best booboo helper since pre k “ she winked. 

“ working in the hard deck ?” 

“ oh that’s just help penny out since she my step mom” . 

“ hey you got all these moms and i got no parents ? no fair share with orphan ?” he poke her sides making her burst into eruptions of giggles .  “ wait where are we?” he asked looking around to see nothing but houses .

“ well you never said where we were going so i thought my place so i can make you food instead … i mean you are my future husband if i heard correctly “ she got out of the car coy smile on her face. 

“ wait your heard that .. oh shit i was just .. i didn’t … “ 

“ are you coming or not ?” she called . 

“ yes ma’am “ 

@shanimallina87 something fluffy since my bet on it series is in sad stage

[nykie-love-anime]

Cuddle

Beau: Having two partners is both amazing and complicated Y/N: - humming into his chest to continue - Beau: All our problems can be solved with communication Pete: - looking at the couple on the couch - Pete: It’s my turn to cuddle Y/N Beau: - huffing at the audacity of his boyfriend - Beau: Five more minutes, damn man! Y/N: - giggling at her boyfriends bickering -

Masterlist

[lieutenantfloyd]

More of my favorite photos + gifs of Tom Cruise! ♡

[helloitstsyu]

TikTok Tease | Tom Cruise 18+

My masterlist

Summary : You did a tiktok video in front of Tom and teased him with it.

a/n : saw something on tiktok and just can't stop to think about this. here's the link . Also i tried smtg different, this is on reader's POV.

Pairing : Tom Cruise x Fem¡reader

Wc: 2k ish

Warning : smut. do not enter if you're minor

I saw this video and I'm itching to do it to Tom. He's upstairs right now in his office having his last phone call meeting for the day. Meanwhile I'm just down here in the kitchen preparing for our dinner while i jammed to A Gangester's Wife by Ms Krazie.

"Darling?" his voice shoots in between the upbeat tune.

Looking up, Tom's walking down the stairs. Donning a casual navy polo shirt and a pair of jeans, he looks just as ravishing as he always is.

"Hi babe, dinner's almost ready.." i smile to him as he walks closer and joins me in the kitchen. "Everything okay with the call?" I ask.

"Yeah..." he nods with a smile. "It went well. We still have to call the studio and ask for the greenlight, but yeah, everything sorted out one by one— is that my favorite pesto?" He leans to the stove and takes a look at the food that I'm cooking. Tom takes an inhale deeply at the smoking food on the stove. "Ahh.. smells amazing," he grins.

I chuckle, "Two more minutes, and I'll be done,"

"Okay.." Tom sits down on one of the stool right in front of me. He he stares at me with glimmering eyes, kid-like kind of stares. He props his chin with both hands. His big smile never leaves as his eyes glued on me.

"What are you a five year old?" I laugh and shake my head.

Tom chuckles. His eyes dart down to see what I'm wearing. Suddenly, those cheeky grins turn into a dirty smirk as he furrows his brows. His glimmering eyes turn darker.

"Is that a new apron?" Tom cocks an eyebrow.

Looking down at the blue stripy apron on my body, i remember i just ordered this a couple of weeks ago since i get bored with the other basic black apron. Blue is Tom's favorite color, i thought it would be appropriate to buy it in this color. Seems like he likes it.

"Uh-huh." i nod.

"Hmm," Tom squints his eyes and smirks. "Looks good on you, darling," his voice suddenly changes, drops an octave deeper.

"Is that so?" I tease him with a slight head titl as i turn off the stove. I lick the spilled pesto on my finger while i look up to his eyes with that sireny-spelled gaze.

Tom chuckles, he shakes his head, "Baby.. no! I'm hungry. We're gonna just eat this delicious dinner you made." His smile is wide despite the stern in his voice.

"Okay!" You laugh, "What else are we gonna do– it's done. Stop gawking at me and help me plate,"

Tom laughs, "Gawking at you?" He repeats as he stands up and turns around the island. Tom captures me, his hands around my waist, and he pulls me closer to him. "How am i gawking at you, huh?" he tickles me.

I giggle and try to stop his attacking tickles. "Tom! Tom, stop!" I laugh and try to hold down his tickling fingers. Tom grabs me and pulls me to his chest. He places a deep kiss on my temple.

"Go on, help me plate, please," you ask nicely. He finally lets go of me and takes some plates from the cabinet.

Remembering i have a bright idea of how to tease him (again). I set my phone against the oil bottle. He doesn't even see me setting up my phone. Tom just focuses on scooping the pesto pasta to our serving plate. I take off the apron i wore and undo my messy bun.

Then i just pressed the record button.

The song plays, and he noticed I'm recording. He stops, and he looks up at my phone screen.

Daddy let me know that I'm the only girl. The only man that i need in this gangster world.

I mouth along the lyrics as it plays. Tease him a little by leaning down a little bit too seductively cause i was feeling the song. His mouth drops open. His eyes widen in a surprise to find my little tease. I can't help to get out of character and laugh at his shocked, stalled-breath expression. Tom's blushing, and he's absolutely stunned. Tom laughs and quickly hoists me off the screen.

"Darling!!" He laughs, Tom picks me up like my bodyweight is nothing, setting me to sit on top of the granite top island.

Hooked in. Nailed it. Just the right thing to do to turn him on.

I just can't stop laughing. Tom keeps giggling, and his face turns even a brighter shade of red. His eyes flickers lightly. "Did you call me daddy, love?" Tom asks.

"Hmm... Maybe.." i shrug my shoulders.

He shakes his head, he's smile never seems this wide. The earlier tiredness on his face seems to be gone. "You little minx," he whispers as he pulls my chin and kisses my lips.

"Say it again," he demands.

Chuckling, I shake my head.

"Darling... say it again," his voice is low, and sexily hoarse. The way his demeanor shifted as he commanded me, it struck a tingling heat inside of me straight to my toes.

"Daddy." I whisper.

"Mmmhmm.." Tom grins, showing his satisfaction from hearing me say the new nickname. "How did the song go again?" He asks. His nails are clawing on my thighs. He knows i like it when he does this. I muffled a whimper, my head rolling, and falling back. "Tommy..." i murmur.

Tom uses the advantage to place a kiss on my neck. He grips my hips and pulls me closer to him. He gradually picks up his pace, erotically sucks and nibs my sweet spot, earning me to moan lightly into his ears. "Tom..." i whimper, my fingers gripping the collar of his shirt.

I feel warmth tingling inside of me. Excitement rushing in my veins. I feel myself pooling under there.

His heated kiss moves down to my collar bone as his hands never stop to explore my body. He cups my tits. Kneading them and his finger circling my erected nipples.

"I thought you said you were hungry?"

He lifts his face off my breast and looks back to me. He gives me a wild smirk. "I am. Starving right now."

His hand slips underneath my tanktop, shifting it up to reveal my naked breast underneath. He passionately kneading one in his hand while he's busy sucking roughly the other. I moan, fingers running through his soft brunette strands, the feeling of his warmth slick tongue on my nipple starts to bring tingling pleasure throughout my body.

Opening my eyes, i look back straight to his eyes. His eyes darken with lust. He looks amazingly intoxicating. Sometimes, it still hasn't kicks in that i have him for real. That I have the sexiest bachelor of Hollywood all for myself.

I pull him by his shirt and kiss him again. Tongue hungrily meeting his. I desperately pull him even closer to me. His fingers tucks on the waistband of my shorts. He takes my shorts off and toss it onto the floor. Spreading my legs apart widely, Tom chuckles at my submissive display.

Tom shakes his head and takes a step back. "I ask you something, darling. I won't continue if you're not going to answer me." He cocks an eyebrow.

"Wha... Tom!" I exclaim in disbelief. "Kiss me," i mewl. I try to pull him closer to me again, but Tom laughs. He grips my hand and holds it down. "Try me, darling," he challenged me to disobey him. He meant what he said he wouldn't continue till he heard what he wanted to hear. Such a dominant of him.

"What? What do you want?" I chuckle.

"Remind me how the song goes again?"

"Daddy, let me know—" i start to sing the lyrics. A wild smile appears on his face.

"Good girl," he cooes, then he squats down, face to my needing core.

"Ohh--" i moan as i feel his tongue flicking on my clit. "Tom," i purr. He sucks me passionately. His eyes look up to mine. He notices i stopped singing and enjoying the sensation of his oral expertise.

"Finish the song," he commands and eats me roughly again.

"Oh.. fuck—" i moan.

My breath starts to ragging. Feels like my voice is stuck in my throat. I feel the ecstasy starts to forming inside of me, needing for it to be released. My mind buzzing from the pleasure. I buck my head back, fingers tucking on his hair. "Ngh.. Ah! Tommhh," I helplessly moan.

"Sing." Tom tells, and sucks me again.

"D-daddy... let me know that—  oOH!" I lost it again when i feel his fingers entering me. He pumps his fingers in and out of my cunt, coaxing me closer to the edge of spilling all over for him.

Climbing, climbing, pleasure keeps adding: He curls his fingers and make that deadly beckoning movement. He knows my body front and back. He knows exactly how to get me easily falling apart.

"F-fuckk! Yes! Right there!!" I moan, and moan, and moan.

All of a sudden, once I'm nearly gonna cum, Tom stops.

The feeling of unfinished pleasure makes my mind buzz. I whimper and squirm uncomfortably. How cruel is he. "Wha— why'd you stop?" I look down to him.

Tom shoots me an innocent look, he slightly shrugs his shoulders as he brings his coated fingers to his mouth. "You stop singing." He licks his finger clean.

I can't believe this man sometimes. "Oh my God— Tommy!"

Tom can only laugh at me. "That's not my name!" He titls his head to the side.

"Right—" I climb off the island and push him back till his back crashes the other counter. I roughly kiss him, hands circling to the back of his neck, i desperately kiss him.

"Daddy." I say in between the sloppy kisses. Tom smirks against my lips, hearing that nickname. Guess i manage to pull a new kink outta him.

"Daddy, let me know that I'm the only girl."  I whisper to his ear as i place a wet kisses on his neck. "The only man–" i nibs on his neck. "The only fucking man," my hand explores his toned abs, i pull the polo shirt over his head, toss it down to meet my shorts on the floor.

I look up to his eyes. "You're the one that i need in this gangster world, daddy,"

Tom chuckles darkly. He cups my face and pulls me closer to him again. "That's right, I'm the only one," he cooes. He then continues to hungrily kiss me again. His kisses move to my neck, quickly finding my sweet spot, and erotically he nibs it, leaving his mark of ownership on me. I can feel his buldge pressing against me.

"Ouhh, daddy please..." i murmur, practically begging him

"Please? Please what, darling?" He cocks his eyebrows. The excitement is way too apparent in his tone and gaze.

"Let me have you,"

Tom chuckles darkly. "Have me?" He shakes his head, "Oh, I'm having my way with you tonight, darling," He throws me over his shoulder like my bodyweight is a feather. A playful slap lands to my cheek as he brings me to the couch and both of us falling onto the fluffy couch. Tom unbutton his jeans. He doesn't bother to take the whole thing off but just enough to free his cock. He aligns himself to my entrance. His tips rubbing against my opening. Tom instantly bottoms up, his cock fully enters me, stretching me to the brim. I yelp and squeal to his chest.

"You're gonna beg for me to let you cum," he darkly whisper into my ear. Tom starts to fuck me in a relentless pace.

I moan.... hard. My brain rattling with the immense amount of pleasure he's giving me. Tom looks down at me with intense, lustful eyes. His cock went deep inside of me as he have me folded in half with my knees to my chest.

My head falls back, eyeing the ceiling, my vision of the light blurs. "Ohh... god–" my eyes rolls to the back of my head.

"Nonono, eyes on me!" Tom pulls my neck back straight for me to face him again. "Oh you feel so fucking good," he moans. His eyebrows knitting together but his eyes still darkly looks down at me.

My nails dig on his shoulder. Tom leans closer, rest his forehead against mine, eyes still locked on mine. He fucks me so hard that I'm sure I'd be sore tomorrow. But it feels too good that it'll be so wrong to tell him to slow down. And I'm too overtaken by the pleasure. Too drunk with the taste of him.

"F-fuck— Tom!" I moan and panting hard.

"Yeah? Yeah, you wanted this? You think you deserve to cum after you tease daddy like a little slut, huh, darling?"

I can only helplessly nod.

"Tom... don't stop... p-please!" i beg feeling myself getting closer to cum.

"Not stopping, darling... You feel so good, all nice and tight for daddy,"

"O-oh! Tom let me cum please... please!" I cry out begging to him. He just smirks at me, dark lustful eyes looking down at me and still he's fucking me hard.

"Daddy please.. daddy let me cum!" I beg. My walls throbbing around him. I feel fire burning inside of me. My fingers gripping onto the couch hard.

"No! Wait!" He pants.

"S-sshhiit, Tom!" I squirm all over the place, trying my best to hold it.

"Wait baby! Cum with me," Tom leans closer holding me tightly. His forehead resting against mine. His panting breath meeting mine. I cry, couldn't bear the overflowing pleasure needing for the snap to occur.

I can feel his cock throbbing inside of me. He's close. He's holding onto me hard. His thrust starting to get sloppy. And just like that i lose it. The moment i feel him throbbing inside of me i can't help to hold it anymore.

I breathlessly scream daddy over and over again, moaning hard as i make a mess and squirm all over him. The sight of me falling apart got Tom spilling too. "Akhhh! FuUCk! Darling!" Tom groans. He remain freezes as he stills himself empty inside of me.

For a moment, he takes a breather and just rest of top of me. What's better than sex with him is what happened after the sex with him. It's like our soul intertwined, and i just feel a deep connection with him. Tom rolls me over so I'm on top of him, his arms instinctively hugs around me. He kiss me deeply. Still with a messy breath, he look deeply into my eyes with that shimmering after sex glow.

"You okay?" He softly asks.

Still panting i just can smile and nod. Tom kiss me deeply again. "I love you," he whispers softly.

I smile and kiss his cheek. "I love you too, daddy,"

Tom laughs and kisses me deeply again.

[call-sign-shark]

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