#nick goose bradshaw smut

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Making Love Out of Nothing At All - Nick Bradshaw x Reader

A/N: I've been sitting on this for a month since I left San Diego and now I'm finally doing it. We're calling this an AU fic where Carole's just non-existent and everyone lives happily ever after.

pairing: Nick "Goose" Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: p in v sex (unprotected/no mention of protection - he's a silly goose, ok?), fingering, oral (f receiving), public sex, car sex, goose goes down on you like it's an olympic sport, praise kink, body worship/compliments but no mention of specific appearance really?

word count: 1.3k

minors dni below the cut!

Every time I see you all the rays of the sun are all streaming through the waves in your hair, and every star in the sky is taking aim at your eyes like a spotlight.

The dim street lamps illuminated the parking lot of the club in a dusky glow, the cool Pacific breeze licking at your bare legs as you hurried behind your boyfriend to his car, a 1983 Ford Mustang that he’d been saving up for since graduating from the Naval Academy last summer. He had whisked you out of the club so quickly that you were almost certain you spilled the contents of your drink on his best friend, Pete in your hurry out the door, rather than simply handing him the glass as you’d intended. 

Nick turned to face you, his infamous smirk spread across his lips as he placed a hand firmly on your waist, drawing you in closer to him. He leaned his back against his car, easily towering over the convertible’s frame as he stood. At an impressive 6’4, Nick’s body engulfed yours as he pulled you in, ducking his head down to leave hungry kisses in a trail from your jaw to your neck, his hands feverishly roaming over the outside of your dress, finding anyway he could to gain access to what was underneath. 

“Mhmm,” you giggled, shaking your head, “Slow down, baby. You can’t just do it in the middle of a parking lot,” you protested.

“Says who? I don’t see anyone around? Besides, that’s what the car’s for, honey.”

Nick opened the door for you before playfully pushing you on to your back across the backseat. He placed his palms flat against the seat as he hovered himself over you, his lips once again making contact with your skin. A series of hot, open-mouthed kisses peppered your neck and collarbone as his hands palmed at your breasts, grasping them over the fabric of your dress. He grinned as he hummed against your skin, taking delight in the way you squirmed and giggled with every kiss.

“You smell like heaven, you know that? Whatever this new perfume you’re wearing is, I love it.”

“Coco by Chanel,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as your hand guided his face to look at you. 

Leaning up, your lips met his in a tender, yet playful kiss, grinning against his lips as his hands continued to explore your body. His long, slender fingers ran along your leg, brushing against you in a way that made your skin feel like it was on fire, burning with passion at his touch. You took in a sharp breath as he hiked the skirt of your dress up your thighs, the fabric pooling at your waist. His hand slid in between your bodies, brushing his fingertips against the soft, delicate lace of your underwear, that was quickly becoming dampened with arousal.

“Someone’s already worked up, isn’t she?” He said as he flashed you a wicked grin, chuckling to himself at how wet he’d made you without really putting in any effort.

“Shush,” you protested, shaking your head, “I could say the same thing about you.”

Nick grinned as he pulled himself up to his knees, spreading your legs slightly to make room as he hooked a finger into the waistband of your underwear, lazily dragging them down off your leg. He tossed them aside, discarding them somewhere in the front seat before quickly leaning his head down, his tongue flattening as he licked a long, slow strip against your sex, a groan of pleasure catching in his throat as he tasted your arousal. You panted his name, a sigh of ecstasy escaping your lips as his tongue slowly began working at your clit, concentrating on soft, yet precise movements as he encircled the sensitive bud. 

“Tastes so fucking good, honey,” he husked as he lifted his head up slightly, his dark brown eyes looking up at you with a lustful stare as he delved two fingers into your dripping wet heat, curling them slightly to hit your spot. 

“Nick, fuck,” you hissed, your back arching as he effortlessly pumped his fingers into your spot, his tongue lapping at your arousal, “Getting so close.” 

“I know baby, I know, let it go for me,” he encouraged before dipping his mouth back down between your folds, sucking on your clit harshly before running his tongue over it again.

You whimpered as your thighs began to shudder and shake in pleasure, your back arching further as Nick drew you closer to your orgasm. You began moaning out his name over and over, saying it as if it was a spoken prayer as he dragged your orgasm out, his tongue lapping at you, cleaning up the arousal that dripped and threatened to stain the seats beneath you. He grinned up at you as he pulled the neckline of the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath his brightly coloured Hawaiian print shirt up to wipe your juices from his mouth. 

“Have I told ya how pretty you look?” He hummed, his fingers tracing circles on your abdomen, admiring you as if he saw you as a work of art.

“No, but I like hearing it.”

“So fucking pretty, honey. Just look at you,” he gestured to you with one hand while the other palmed at his tightening jeans, the denim fabric becoming more and more restricted with his touch, “I’m not done with ya yet though, honey.”

He grunted as he got out of the car, taking you by the hand and marching you around to the hood of the car. After a quick glance around to ensure no one would be able to see, he gently guided his hand across the small of your back, spinning you around before pushing you down over the hood of the car. He shimmied his jeans down off his waist, just enough to free his cock from the strain of his boxers. 

He stroked himself a couple of times for good measure before flicking the fabric of your dress up off of you, lining himself up with your entrance, he pistoned himself into you, causing you to lay your palms flat against the cold, grey metal of the car. He paused to let you adjust before drawing his hips back and thrusting forward again, causing you to choke out a gasp as you felt your walls stretching to allow him to fit. 

“Nick, shit,” you panted, balling your hands into fists as you tried to keep your emotions and feelings in check as he fucked into you. 

“That’s it sweet girl, takin’ me s’good,” he purred, his hips continuing to crash into yours, hands guiding your ass to make contact with his hips with each movement. 

“Fucking, Jesus Christ, baby, I’m so close, right fucking there,” you sputtered, your thoughts becoming cloudy and incoherent with each passing second.

Nick’s controlled movements began to grow sloppier as he drew closer to his orgasm, unable to focus his precision any longer, his rhythmic thrusts devolving into clumsier, yet just as hard, movements. He moaned your name loudly, the syllables ringing out like some sort of sweet melodic praise as your walls clenched around him. You rode your orgasms out together, harmoniously as you both fell apart. His large hands caressed your body, pulling you gently to stand up and lean your body against his. He held you close for a moment, kissing at the nape of your neck breathlessly, his skin hot to the touch and slicked with sweat. 

A laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head, almost in disbelief as he looked at you. 

“God, you’re incredible, you know that? Absolutely fucking incredible,” he purred, stroking your hair as he held you close.

[cowboybeepboop]

Old friends

"Fuck, you're incredible," 

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman” Seresin

Genre: Smut 

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: Your friendship turns into a passionate night together.

a/n: I’m not too sure if people are still craving Glen Powell the way I am, but this man plagues my fucking thoughts day and night 😔

Jake arrives at your doorstep, knocking on the door with a smile and a bag in his hand. He's dressed casually, with a comfortable hoodie and jeans. "Hey, I brought some snacks," he says as he greets you warmly.

You pull him into a quick hug, it’s been a few months since you last had some time together. “Jake, I’ve missed you.”

He returns the embrace, wrapping his arms around you tightly. "I've missed you too," he says, his voice warm and genuine. "It's been a while." He steps inside, following you into the living room.

“Too long.” You murmur as you plop down on the couch. “You get to pick the first movie.”

Jake grins and takes a seat next to you on the sofa. He places the bag of snacks on the coffee table and starts rummaging through it. "Alright, let's see..." he ponders for a moment before pulling out a DVD. "How about this one? It's a classic." He shows you the title, eager for your opinion.

“Sounds great.” You smile, relaxing on the plush couch.

Jake puts in the DVD and sits back down beside you, making himself comfortable. As the movie starts, he casually slings his arm around the back of the sofa, just behind your shoulders. His proximity is comforting and familiar, like two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly together.

You press your cheek into his shoulder, cuddling into his side as the movie starts. Jake subconsciously shifts a little closer, enjoying the feeling of your head on his shoulder. 

He steals a glance at you, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. The movie continues to play, but his focus seems to shift, his thoughts wandering slightly as he steals subtle glances at you from time to time.

As you nuzzle against him, Jake feels a flutter in his chest. He bites his lip, trying to appear casual, but there's a hint of a blush creeping up on his cheeks. He glances down at you, feeling a mix of nervousness and affection. He's always had a crush on you, but he had never mustered the courage to tell you.

You groan, unable to get comfortable in this position. With a sigh you move to lay your head in his lap, letting out a soft sigh as you relax.

Jake's heart skips a beat as you lay your head in his lap. He stiffens for a moment, not expecting the unexpected touch. But then, he relaxes, his body melting into the cushion of the couch. 

He tentatively reaches out, his hand hovering above your head for a brief moment before slowly, gently, he gently begins to brush his fingers through your hair.

You let out a quiet moan as his fingers brush through your hair. Jake swallows hard at the sound you make, feeling a jolt of electricity go down his spine. He continues to run his fingers through your hair, his touch tender and soothing. He steals a glance at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of affection and something else, something deeper.

A sex scene comes on the TV, making both of you tense as the sounds of moans and skin against skin fills the room.

Jake's hand freezes above your head, his mind racing as he attempts to maintain a casual demeanor. The room seems to grow hotter, and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He glances down at you, trying to gauge your reaction to the scene unfolding on the screen.

You take a shaky breath feeling heat pooling in your stomach, your hand subconsciously squeezing Jake’s knee.

Jake's breath catches in his throat as he feels your hand on his knee. The gentle squeeze causes him to shift slightly in his seat, trying to hide the growing tent in his jeans. He clears his throat, his mind torn between watching the movie and the feel of your touch.

You clear your throat as the scene finally ends, cutting to a less intense one. Jake takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. The heat in his cheeks hasn't subsided, and he's acutely aware of every movement you make. 

The scene on the screen has changed, but his mind is still reeling from the previous one. He slowly resumes threading his fingers through your hair, his touch slightly rougher than before.

You scoot back your head getting a little too close to his erection. Jake’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels you move, his heart rate quickening. Your head is now directly in his lap, dangerously close to the situation happening below his belt. He tries to maintain his cool, but it's a losing battle.

"Uh, watch out for... um," he stammers, his voice huskier than usual.

“Hm?” You question, moving slightly to look up at him. Jake's eyes widen as you tilt your head back, your gaze meeting his. His breathing becomes more labored, and he tries to keep a stoic expression, but the tent in his jeans is becoming increasingly harder to hide.

"You're, um, getting a little close," he manages to say, his voice betraying a hint of restraint.

“Close?” You question, shifting your body a little more to face him, your eyes locking on his erection. “Oh..”

Jake's face flushes, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. He's acutely aware of your gaze on his lower region, and he's losing the battle against embarrassment.

"Yeah... um," he stutters, his breath catching in his throat. "Just... maybe, uh, be careful?"

“Yeah.. right..” you sit up awkwardly shifting your gaze as you put space between the two of you. Your cheeks a bright red as you adjust the blanket on your lap. 

Jake tries to suppress a feeling of disappointment as you move away from him. He adjusts his position on the sofa as well, trying to subtly hide his predicament. The tension in the room is palpable, and he steals a glance at you, trying to read your expression.

You squeeze your thighs together, trying to suppress your growing arousal as you steal a glance at Jake’s.

Jake notices your subtle shift in position, and his eyes darken with a mix of desire and uncertainty. He can't help but notice the way your thighs press together, and his own body responds in kind, his jeans growing even tighter. 

You slightly shift closer to him, craving the warmth of his body. “Jake.” You whisper softly.

Jake's heart thumps in his chest as he hears you utter his name. He turns to look at you, his gaze locking with yours. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and he can't help but lean closer towards you, his body silently begging for your touch.

"Yeah?" he replies, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

You let out a long breath, chewing on your bottom lip as you slip your hand on his lap, fingers getting dangerously close to his bulge.

Jake lets out a shaky breath as he feels your hand on his lap. His entire body stiffens in response, and he closes his eyes for a moment, trying to maintain control. But when your fingers edge closer to his bulge, his breath hitches in his throat, and he can't help but let out a faint moan.

"Mmm... what are you doing, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained and thick with desire.

“Jake.. I,” you turn to face him, fingers brushing over his erection.

Jake's body jerks involuntarily at your touch, a low moan escaping his lips. He sucks in a breath, his hips instinctively shifting slightly forward into your hand. His eyes meet yours, the desire in them undeniable.

"Mmm... baby," he manages to say, his voice wavering. "Please... don't tease me."

“Not teasing..” you unbutton his jeans, slowly sliding the zipper down, your hands shaking slightly in anticipation.

Jake's body trembles, his breathing ragged as he feels your hands working on his jeans. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he can hardly believe this is happening. He reaches out, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, gently squeezing it.

"Oh, god," he whispers, his voice hoarse with need.

You free his length, mouth watering at the sight of him. “Fuck, you’re huge.”

Jake blushes at your words, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. He's never been this aroused in his life, and hearing you compliment his size sends a wave of heat through his body.

"Mmm..." He lets out a strangled moan as he feels your eyes on him.

You press a kiss to his tip, your eyes fluttering shut as you continue pressing kisses to him. You stick out your tongue, pressing it to his length, nearly moaning at the taste.

"Fuck," Jake groans, his hips stuttering forward into your touch. He reaches down to tangle his fingers in your hair, his grip tight as he struggles to control his response to your mouth. He's never felt anything this intense before, and his body is on fire with pleasure.

He throws his head back, his eyes shut tight. The feeling of your lips on him, the brush of your tongue, it's almost too much for him to handle. He can feel his precum leaking out, and he tightens his grip on your hair.

“Mm…” you murmur, the sound sending shivers down his body. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, head bobbing as you take him in further.

Encouraged by your enthusiastic response, Jake's hips begin to move in rhythm with your mouth, his breath coming in harsh pants. His hand tightens in your hair, guiding you deeper, and he can't hold back the string of curses that fall from his lips. 

"Fuck, yes... just like that," he whispers, his eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. The sound of your muffled moans around his cock only spurs him on, and he can feel himself getting closer to the edge. 

You continue to suck him off, the heat in the room growing more intense with each passing second. His hand is a vice in your hair, his hips rocking up to meet your mouth as your tongue swirls around the head of his cock. 

Jake's moans become louder, his body tensing as he feels the orgasm building deep in his core. He can't believe how amazing this feels, how perfect your mouth is around him.

"I'm gonna cum," he warns, his voice strained and desperate. You nod, taking him in deeper, eager to taste him.

With a final, powerful thrust, Jake releases into your mouth, his body shuddering with the force of his climax. You swallow eagerly, savoring the taste of him, and he lets out a long, shaky sigh. His grip on your hair relaxes, and he opens his eyes to find you looking up at him with a satisfied smile.

"Fuck," he says, panting. "That was..." He trails off, unable to find the words.

You lean back, licking your lips. "Good?"

He nods, his cheeks still flushed. "More than good." He looks at you with a newfound hunger in his eyes. "But I want more," he says, reaching for you. “Need more..”

Jake's hand slides up your thigh, his fingers tracing the edge of your shirt before finding their way under the fabric. His touch is electric, sending waves of heat through your body. You lean into him, eager for more, as he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passion that leaves you breathless. 

With a low growl, Jake lifts you up and flips you onto your back on the couch, his body covering yours in a possessive embrace. His kisses become more demanding, his hands roaming over your body as he unbuttons your shirt and unhooks your bra. 

Your breasts spill out into his waiting hands, and he cups them gently before taking one in his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue as you writhe beneath him. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh, eliciting gasps from you, and he smiles against your skin, feeling your body respond to his every touch. 

His hand slides down to the waistband of your pants, and with one swift movement, he unbuttons and unzips them, pushing them down your hips along with your panties. You lift your hips to help him, desperate for him to explore further, and he obliges, his hand slipping inside to feel the wetness that's been building since the moment he sat down next to you. 

Your legs part instinctively, inviting him in, and he groans against your neck, his desire spiraling out of control. He kisses a path down your body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake until he reaches the apex of your thighs. 

His eyes lock with yours, a silent question in them, and when you nod eagerly, he lowers his head and tastes you for the first time, his tongue delving into your folds, making you buck against his face. Your nails dig into his scalp as he licks and sucks, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of pleasure. 

The world around you fades away, leaving only the sound of your ragged breaths and the feel of Jake's mouth on your pussy. You're so close, so very close, and you know that this night will change everything between the two of you.

Jake's tongue dances around your clit, his movements deliberate and skilled. Each flick sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making your toes curl and your legs shake. You grip the couch cushions, your breaths coming out in short, sharp gasps as the intensity builds. "Oh, Jake," you moan, arching your back, "right there."

He groans against you, the vibration of his voice sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your core. His tongue circles your clit before plunging into your wetness, mimicking the rhythm of his hips as he grinds against the couch. 

The pressure is building, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge. "I'm going to cum," you whisper, your voice trembling.

Jake's eyes flash up to meet yours, a look of pure desire etched on his face. "Cum for me," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. 

He sucks on your clit, and with one final, desperate pull of your hair, you fall over the edge, your body convulsing in a powerful orgasm. Your cries fill the room as he continues to lick and suck, prolonging the sensation until you're nothing but a puddle of pleasure beneath him.

When the waves of pleasure finally recede, Jake kisses his way back up your body, leaving a trail of wetness on your skin. He takes your mouth again, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. "Fuck, you're incredible," he murmurs, his eyes dark with lust.

You smile against his lips, your heart racing. "So are you," you pant, your hands sliding down to his hips, pushing his jeans down the rest of the way. His cock springs free, and you reach for it, stroking it gently.

Jake groans, his hips bucking into your touch. "I need to be inside you," he says, his voice a desperate growl.

You nod, your eyes wide with need. "Yes," you whisper, spreading your legs wider in invitation.

Jake reaches into the pocket of his discarded jeans, pulling out a condom. He rolls it on with shaking hands, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, with one hand on the back of your knee, he guides your leg up and enters you in one smooth, deep stroke.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he fills you completely, the sensation of being stretched and filled by him almost too much to handle. He starts to move, his hips rocking into yours in a steady, powerful rhythm. 

The friction sends sparks shooting through your body, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you move with him, meeting his every thrust.

The tension builds again, hot and urgent, and you know that this time, you'll be falling together. Jake's grip tightens on your leg, his strokes becoming more erratic as he feels his own climax approaching. "I'm going to cum," he grunts, his eyes locked on yours.

"Me too," you whimper, your body tightening around him.

With a final, desperate push, you both reach the peak, your orgasms crashing into one another like waves against the shore. You hold onto each other tightly, riding out the storm of pleasure until it subsides, leaving you both panting and spent on the couch, surrounded by the scattered remnants of your clothing.

For a moment, you just lay there, bodies entwined, hearts racing in sync. Then, Jake pulls out and collapses beside you, his arm draped over your waist. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admits, his voice still thick with passion.

You snuggle into his side, a smile playing on your lips. "Me too," you whisper, your eyes drifting closed as you let the aftershocks of pleasure wash over you.

The movie plays on in the background, forgotten, as the two of you lay there, basking in the warm glow of your newfound intimacy. This night has changed everything, and you can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

[topgun-imagines]

Day 10: Blood In The Water

Pairings: Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw x sister!reader, Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x fem!reader

Synopsis: What would have happened if it was you, Ice’s RIO, in that flat spin instead of Goose?

Warnings: mentions of death, panic attacks, crying, fainting, engine failure & plane crashes.

Note: wouldn’t mind expanding on this one after whumptober if people are interested

Word count: 1.3k

“Come on, Mav!” You called from behind Ice. The two of you were currently flying right behind Maverick, the arrogant pilot having cut you off to get a shot on the bogey. After many attempts, he was unsuccessful and now refusing to move to let you and Iceman get the shot. He was too close to get a proper shot lined up. The pissing contest between the two was really starting to get out of hand. “Get the hell out of there!”

With a roll of your eyes, you gave up on yelling at your brother's best friend and spoke to Ice instead. After little encouragement from you, it was his turn to yell at Maverick. “Mav! Come off high right,” You grinned, ready for Ice to make the shot. However, Mav insisted that he only needed five more seconds. “Come off high right, Mav. I’m in.” Everything seemed to be going fine. You and Ice were about to make the shot, putting you on top of the scoreboard.

But in the blink of an eye, everything went to hell.

“I’m off. Shit!” Maverick hissed, quickly pulling up and to the right. For a second, you were elated. This was the point that would put you over the edge. You were seconds away from winning the Top Gun trophy. That was before your stomach dropped and you realized what exactly was happening.

You froze, eyes screwed shut as you screamed at Ice. “We’re in his jet wash!” Distantly, you heard Ice curse in front of you. Your head was pounding against your skull, horror surging through your veins. The only thing you could do was hope that Ice could pull you out of it. This was not good. You peeled your eyes open when you heard a sensor going off. “Shit! We’ve got a flame out, Ice!” More sensors went off as your jet continued to spiral. “Engine one is out! Engine two is out!”

It was then that you heard the words you never wanted to hear from your pilot. He called your name in a rush. “I’m losing control, I’m losing control!” The panic in his voice was unlike anything you had ever heard before. “I ca- I can’t control it! It won’t recover!” He cussed again as the jet spun uncontrollably through the air.

You looked up with tears in your eyes, watching the view from the canopy switch from the dark ocean below to the bright blue sky. “We’re out of control! This is not good!” Before you could stop it, a sob bubbled out of your chest. It wasn’t often that you cried, and you knew that Ice needed you to be level-headed, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were about to die.

When Ice heard you crying behind him, it was as if something clicked in his mind. Suddenly, you stopped spinning. Now your jet was headed straight for the ocean. As a kid, you loved the water; splashing around in it with your brother. Now? Not so much. Through heavy breaths, you blinked sluggishly. Everything felt funny. Your head became fuzzy, it was harder to breathe and you felt sick to your stomach.

And then everything went dark.

In front of you, Ice was focused on pulling the two of you out of the flat spin. The two of you were going to make it through this. He was sure of it.

Only one hundred meters away, Goose watched, helpless as his baby sister and her pilot spun out of control. He would never tell Maverick this, but if there was one person that he was confident could recover from a flat spin, it was Iceman. When you had followed Goose to the academy only a few years after him, needless to say, he was worried. He was even more worried when you were paired with the infamous Iceman. After all, you were his baby sister. Nick Bradshaw would lay his life down to protect you. And everyone knew that.

One night, only a few days after you and Iceman had been paired up, Goose approached the cocky pilot that he considered his friend. Regardless of the fact that some would have assumed that Goose was really questioning Ice’s skill, Ice knew that your brother was simply looking out for you. And that was something that he could understand. That night, your pilot had promised to protect you with his life. If he could help it, no harm would ever come to you.

A few months later, Goose met Maverick. Even though Mav wasn’t at the academy, the two grew inseparable almost instantly. You had met Mav many times before being reunited with the pilot at Top Gun, however, he had never met your pilot. When you walked into the first class only a few weeks ago, Maverick’s jaw dropped at the sight of you strutting in with Iceman’s arm thrown over your shoulders. Needless to say, he was a bit jealous.

Maverick was never a religious man. But now, even he was praying that Ice could pull this off. Right now, his ego didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for saving you and Iceman. Did he like the pilot? No. Did that mean that he wanted to watch him crash into the ocean? Hell no. Especially not if it meant you were going with him. You and Goose were the only family he had left. He wasn’t about to lose you.

“Mayday! Mayday! Ice is in trouble!” Simultaneously, Maverick and Goose’s jaws dropped. They both watched Ice pull off a miracle. Your jet was no longer spinning out of control. Instead, it was rising steadily. Even over the coms, they could hear Ice breathe a sigh of relief. But they weren't quite done yet. The next step was getting all four of you back to land without another incident.

Back on land, you were lying on the tarmac, out cold with Ice, Mav, and your brother hovering protectively over you. Ever so slowly, you blinked your eyes open, gasping quietly at the sight of the three aviators hovering over you. You only had a second to process what was happening before Goose collapsed onto you, clinging to you for dear life. There was a small smile on your face as you hugged him back.

Ice and Maverick sat back on their heels and made eye contact. Where there normally would have been anger or disdain, there was now thankfulness and understanding. A nod was shared between the two. And then your brother was launching himself at Iceman. Chuckling at the sight of your pilot's shocked face, you sat up slowly with the help of Mav. Ice shot a dazzling smile at you from over your brother’s shoulder and patted his back in reassurance.

“Thank you,” Goose pulled back, his expression as serious as you had ever seen it. “Thank you so much for keeping her safe.” Everyone’s expressions became sombre at the reality of what could have happened. Ice only nodded at your brother.

You were the next to hug him, falling into his arms and sniffling into his chest. His strong arms wrapped securely around you, keeping you anchored to the ground, to him. You could have sworn you heard him sniffle, but no one else ever had to know. When you sniffled again, holding him tighter, he rocked the two of you back and forth. And neither your brother, nor Maverick, needed to know that he pressed a delicate kiss to your temple seconds later.

a/n: hope you enjoyed! Join the taglist!

Tagging: @ohtobeleah @xoxabs88xox @bradleybeachbabe @oldermenaremyreligion @els-marvelvsp @kmc1989 @nyx2021 @mploopssek @callsignharper @seitmai @kellyls04 @scarletmeii @inkandarsenic

[allforreading-fandomthings]

Masterlist - Top Gun Fics

Please read the tags for each individual story!

⚠️ - explicit sexual content warning

ICEMAV

I Think We're Alone Now ⚠️(multi-chapter, discontinued, waiting for re-write)

Like No Time Has Passed At All ⚠️ (one-shot)

Next Time Then ⚠️ (one-shot)

The Man You Are (genderfluid!mav, one-shot)

You Can Be My Jerk-Off Material Anytime ⚠️ (one-shot)

Series: Here Is The News

We've Got Tonight (one-shot)

Love Changes Everything (multi-chapter, on-going)

ICE & MAV / ICEMAV

Series: Of a life that's been loved

Two Tomcats (one-shot)

Pete (one-shot)

HANGSTER

Weekend Trip ⚠️ (multi-chapter, complete)

Stupid Enough (one-shot)

Settled ⚠️ (one-shot)

Series: Californian Country Boys

Forever and For Always (one-shot)

No One Needs To Know (one-shot)

ICE X MAV X GOOSE X CAROLE

Ocean of Love ⚠️ (multi-chapter, on-going, on hold)

MISC PAIRINGS & GEN

Flufftober 2024

[Last updated: 03/12/2025]

[callsignthirsty]

Stuck at the Navy Ball

So… I decided I wasn’t done playin’ with the boys.

As this is a continuation of the original Stuck in the Middle fic, I highly recommend that you read through that before diving into this. Could you dive headfirst into this? Yes. There might be a little confusion, though.

Inspired by a comment someone left on SitM over on AO3.

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader x Ron “Slider” Kerner Summary: You, Ice, and Sli haven’t lost that loving feeling. So when the flyboys are reunited at the 1986 Navy Ball, it's only natural that they bring a bit of chaos with them. Word Count: 4200 Warnings: Smut, bets and wagers, under-negotiated situations (but everyone involved is fine), fingering Chapter: 1/4 Minors DNI

gif originally posted by neuromancer1888

Chapter 1: Under the Table

The invitation arrives early in September, printed on thick cardstock and addressed to your brother. But if Viper’s words are to be believed—and you’ve yet to hear of a situation in which they aren’t—Pete’s attendance isn’t exactly optional. So the summons finds its way from the trash onto the fridge, rough edges taped back together.

Please Join Us For the 211th Navy Ball. Monday, October 13th Washington D.C.

Cocktail Hour 1700 | Ceremony Begins 1800 Live Music. Food. Dancing.

The same invitation has Carole positively giddy. Born and raised in Virginia, she’s been looking for an excuse to fly east to visit her parents. And for a party? Isn’t that swell! Arrangements are made for Bradley to sleep at his grandparents on the night of the ball before Goose—whose PT-mandated wheelchair has landed him desk duty—is home from work.

Which is how, roughly one month later, you find yourself in Goose’s room at the Hyatt Regency on Capitol Hill, sharing precious mirror space with Carole. Breathing in Aqua Net while putting the finishing touches on your looks.

The hotel calls the four of you a taxi, Goose’s wheelchair is stuffed into the trunk, and then you’re off to meet your date.

Singular.

There hadn’t been a question of if you’d attend or whose arm you’d decorate once Pete’s invite arrived. Officially, you’re at the ball with Ice. After Layton, Ice had made it a point to be seen with you while he was off-duty. Your relationship, which you’d tried to keep on the down-low, was worth showing off publicly after he and your brother had dropped their rivalry in favor of mutual respect. Friendship. 

But the other half of your relationship was still very much under wraps. 

That fact hadn’t stopped you from nodding eagerly when Ice pulled you close to ask you to attend the Navy Ball with him. Ice wants to climb the ladder, and earning stars is more than clambering into the cockpit every morning or disappearing on a carrier for the better part of a year at a time. It’s politics. It’s achieving perceived milestones on or ahead of schedule. And in October, for Lieutenant Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, naval aviator and promotion hopeful, it’s attending the Navy Ball with a woman on his arm.

Pete wrestles the wheelchair out of the trunk while Goose pays the cab driver. As you step into the crisp October evening, you marvel at the palatial, white-stone building that is to be the backdrop of your night. A steady flow of servicemen and women crossing beneath grand archways with their dates for the promise of a good night.

You aren’t left alone to gawk for long before you catch sight of them chatting with someone or another: decked in their whites, Slider leaning against the wrought iron rail and Ice to his side. Ice’s gaze flicks to you instantaneously, as if he’d felt your eyes land on him. The natural pout of his lips morphs into a grin as he excuses himself from the conversation and moves toward you against the flow of the crowd. Slider follows close behind, ultimately making his way to Goose, Carole, and your brother. But you catch the hesitation in his step. The course-correct.

Events like these will be challenging for the three of you—that had been a foregone conclusion—but this knowledge doesn’t make it any easier. It feels all sorts of wrong to have Slider keep himself at such a purposeful distance when you’re used to his proximity. Even at the O Club, he manages to stand close. Doesn’t shy away.

Before your mood can be irreparably embittered, Ice takes your hand in his and coaxes you into a slow spin. “You’re beautiful,” he coos as he kisses your cheek, and a delicate smile lights your lips. 

The dress had been a surprise. Something you’d insisted on buying yourself despite Ice and Slider offering to pool their money for something truly extravagant. But after years spent in the foster system, even the thought of spending money on something so frivolous left a bad taste in your mouth. Instead, you’d taken Carole, your more comfortable budget, and found an old gala dress at a thrift shop. The sleek, black velvet gown up to your collarbones with the slightest sparkle as the fabric shifted beneath the store’s old lights ticked all your self-imposed boxes. A dress fit for an aspirational young officer’s date, even after Carole added a slit up the left side to show a little leg and “bring the dress into this decade.”

“Look who’s talking,” you say, squeezing Ice’s arm as it’s offered to you. Typically, the change of season calls for blues, but the Navy Ball is an exception to the rule. You wonder whose wife you have to thank for that because although your boys look damn fine in both, you have a not-so-hidden preference. “And Kerner didn’t clean up so bad, either,” you shoot in Slider’s direction with a playful grin.

“Surprised?” Slider asks, brow raised. You shrug because, no, you’re not surprised, but you aren’t sure what to say that will fly under the radar. And that’s the name of the night’s game. That doesn’t stop Pete from rolling his eyes as he passes you with Goose and Carole on their way to the building’s ramp.

The closest you ever got to a ball before tonight was prom—not yours; you’d been on staff at the venue. Frankly, you’d half expected you and Pete to have been blacklisted, given your father’s ill-gotten reputation, but they let you in without issue. You wonder if Pete’s face appearing on the front page of every magazine in the English-speaking world has anything to do with it, but you keep that to yourself while Ice, ever the gentleman, escorts you further into the event. 

If the outside of the building is beautiful, then the inside is magnificent: all barrel vaulted ceilings decorated with Romanesque gold leafing and warm mahogany. A vast hall that steadily fills as guests arrive for cocktail hour and to mingle before the evening officially kicks off.

Slider spots Carole’s shock of blonde hair by a table with easy access for Goose and herds Ice in her direction. They aren’t alone at the table. “Merlin,” Slider barks, bounding over to shake his fellow RIO’s hand. “I thought you were stationed over the Atlantic. What’re you doing here?”

“Turned out to be an exercise. Over and back in sixty-two days.”

“And just in time for the party,” the woman at his side chips in, and Merlin wraps an arm around her to pull her close.

“Oh! Tom Kazansky, Ron Kerner, my wife, Laura.” Ice takes the opportunity to introduce you in turn. The conversation is easy-going, Ice and Slider filling Merlin in on their time instructing at Miramar.

Slider gets in several quips about Ice having a list of officers whose asses he needs to kiss to speed up a promotion when Ice spies one of said officers. He gently tugs you in the right direction so you can play the part of the doting girlfriend. The officer—a captain—quickly introduces you to his wife before he and Ice talk shop.

You manage to pluck a champagne flute from a waiter’s tray, sipping daintily and nodding along with the captain’s wife. Considering most of your knowledge concerning the Navy revolves around the planes your brother flies and the stunts he’s pulled in them, the conversation goes in one ear and out the other.

Not that it matters. Your role tonight—thankfully—is just to follow Ice around and look pretty.

The captain’s wife finishes her champagne in record time, and though you’re hesitant at first, you aren’t too far behind her. It is at this point, glass empty, that Slider appears like your guardian angel. “Captain,” he nods. “Ice.”

“Captain Reid, have you met my RIO?” Ice asks, knowing full well that Slider has no interest in schmoozing. Much like your brother, Slider is there because it is expected of him. Unlike Pete, Ice doesn’t need his friend’s emotional support or commiseration to make it through such events, mandatory or otherwise. Every opportunity like this is one Ice can use to his advantage. 

Slider offers the captain a firm handshake. “Lieutenant Ron Kerner, sir.”

“Your RIO? I thought you were stationed at Miramar?”

“The perks of winning the trophy, sir,” pride leaks through as Slider says it. He and Ice worked damn hard to finish at the top of their class. “We’ve been together since flight school. When Ice took a teaching position at TOPGUN, I followed.”

“And how does a man of your stature fit in the cockpit, lieutenant?” the captain’s wife asks from beneath heavily painted lashes.

The grin Slider offers her is loose. “It’s a bit of a squeeze, but no complaints so far.” The minute narrowing of Ice’s eyes says behave. You nearly avoid snorting, hiding the unladylike compulsion behind the rim of your empty flute, a reflection off the crystal drawing Slider’s eye.

“Actually,” Slider says, hand twitching as if he’s had to stop himself from resting it against your back, “I noticed your glass is empty.” Sli nods toward the bar, an invitation to refill your glass. You look up at him with a grin—a genuine one, not the soft smile that’s grown stale throughout Ice’s conversation—acceptance on your lips when–

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ice’s brow wrinkles, noticing for the first time that you’ve finished your drink.

”I didn’t want to interrupt,” is your bashful answer.

”Don’t be ridiculous,” Ice says. “I’ll come with you.”

”You don’t have to leave.” Slider will take care of me, you don’t say.

Ice picks up on the silent part but blatantly ignores it. His eyes take on that warm, charmed look, tongue peeking out before his lips curl into that honeyed smile you love so much. “You’re too good for me,” he says as if it’s a secret meant only for you. There’s no doubt he means it, but something about the way he’s playing the sentiment up for the brass makes it feel different in a way you’re not entirely comfortable with. No mistakes. “If you’ll excuse us, sir. Ma’am.”

Captain Reid is already turning to walk the room with his wife when Ice’s eyes narrow into what can only be described as a glare at Slider, his arm cementing itself around your waist in a way that probably looks far more relaxed than it feels.

”What?” Slider asks, shooting for casual, but now you’re not sure you’re buying it, either. “I’m just trying to do my part so you can talk to everyone on your list.” The subconscious flex of Ice’s jaw, as if he wishes he could chew out his frustration on the butt of a cig or some gum, doesn’t go unnoticed, but it does go unheeded. “Admiral Benjamin is on your list, right?” You perk up. As in Penny Benjamin? “I think I saw him by the corner with wife number three and Commander Johnson.”

“You know,” Ice says, his grin glacial, “it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you rubbed elbows at an event like this.”

Slider scoffs, though it’s affectionate. “Why bother? We both know my military career ends when you take a desk job. Besides, I think my time is much better spent keeping your date’s cup full.” You’ve all agreed to go to the bar, but no one is moving. The tension between Ice and Slider is palpable.

”Okay,” you interrupt. There’s something off about their banter tonight. You’ve seen Ice stare down many a handful of people since landing in Miramar, but never Slider. It’s enough to raise a sculpted brow. “What am I missing?”

Slider senses blood in the water. Sees the smoke in the air. The grin he gives you is far tighter than the one he gave the captain’s wife. He opens his mouth, but Ice beats him to the punch. “You said something about grabbing my date a drink.”

Slider’s jaw clicks shut, but his grin isn’t so easily wiped away. “More champagne?” When you nod, Slider picks his way toward the bar while Ice escorts you to the side of the room where there’s more room to breathe and a lesser likelihood that someone will overhear when he presses close. “Sli’s upset that you’re with me tonight.”

That’s it? You hadn’t thought the arrangement would bother Slider so much. The three of you had discussed it and mutually concluded that you should go with Ice. That you had to go with Ice. Was Slider having second thoughts?

“Well, not upset,” Ice concedes at the concern that drags your lips down. “But he was talking a big game.”

Color you curious. “What’d he say?”

“Well,” Ice pulls you closer so his breath tickles your ear and you can smell the mint on his breath, “he thinks he can get you off before we leave the building. Steal you away while you’re being my pretty little girlfriend for the brass.” You gulp. Where is Slider with that drink?

”Oh.”

Ice chuckles. “Yeah. Oh. But I’m not worried.” Two fingers find their way under your chin and lift until your eyes meet Ice’s. “I know you’ll be good for me.”

“What’s the winner get?”

”Bragging rights.”

”And?”

It’s impossible to miss the way Ice’s eyes flit to your lips and linger there because he can. Those are the perks of being your date out in the light of day. “Can’t that be it?”

“Could be,” you breathe and slowly wet your bottom lip with your tongue, delighting in the way gray-blue eyes track the movement, “but it isn’t.”

Ice double-checks that no one is eavesdropping on your conversation. “You remember what got delivered the other day?” Your breath hitches. Yeah. You remember the catalog order you’d put in for a remote-controlled toy. The excitement and disappointment that had come with unfortunate delivery schedules. “Single-night, exclusive access once we’re all home.”

”That’s quite a lot on the line.”

”It would be,” Ice concedes, one large hand spanning the small of your back, warming you and holding you close enough you can breathe in his cologne, “but you can be good for me, right, baby? I’ll make it worth your while.” You nod, a little dumb as you inhale teakwood, sage, and sea salt.

It’s sure to be a profoundly satisfying night as long as you can stick to the script.

“I’m not going to make it easy on you,” Slider promises, appearing by Ice’s shoulder.

”Wouldn’t be fun if you did.” Ice’s smirk is all cocky confidence, cracking only when he notices Slider has only fetched two flutes of champagne.

”Only got two hands, Tommy,” Slider says with a toothy grin, “but I’ll keep her company while you grab yourself a glass.” The crystal buzzes with the steady fizz of bubbles, your fingers brushing Sli’s ever so slightly before Ice pulls you back into the throng.

The room becomes more difficult to navigate with each new attendee, but Ice only seems more in his element as cocktail hour drags on. He introduces you to a flurry of officers and their wives whose jewel-tone dresses all start to blend together, brushing shoulders with the men who ultimately control his upward trajectory. 

On his arm, you smile and nod, interjecting where appropriate because, despite the smattering of female officers present, the Navy remains very much a boy’s club.

Still, it’s nice to be shown off so publicly. To delight in the knowledge that Ice’s attention never strays far from you despite his planned schmoozing. You preen each time he introduces you to someone new with a tender look—there are many things tonight that may be manufactured, but that look isn’t one of them. 

An ache blooms in the ball of your foot as Ice delivers on the same script over and over to increasingly dismal company. The throbbing is nothing compared to the pinpricks in your cheeks, though. Beauty pageant smiles are their own form of torture. But this is important.

It’s all for a good cause.

Tonight is important to Ice, so it’s important to you.

You’d do anything for your boys: ignore every sour expression at your last name, force a pleasant laugh along with each rear admiral’s wife, stifle a relieved sigh when everyone is invited to find their seats for dinner.

The flyboys have claimed three closely clustered tables during your absence, forcing others to walk around them as they spill into the spaces between each table, leaning close to make up for the distance forced by post-graduation reassignments. Viper is curiously absent, or perhaps Jester had pulled the short straw and been stuck with babysitting duties.

But there’s someone you don’t recognize at your table, sat between Merlin and Slider, a stranger in your midst. A smile splits Ice’s face when he spots him. “Cougar?” The man stands and pulls Ice into a quick embrace, Ice’s hand on the man’s—Cougar’s—shoulder. Ice makes quick work of introducing you to Bill Cortell and his wife, Maria. “Cougar and I were like brothers in flight school,” Ice beams. “We were supposed to meet up at TOPGUN, but–”

”It turned out for the best,” Cougar cuts Ice off goodnaturedly with a quick nod toward Pete. “Besides, desk life isn’t so bad.” Ice raises a brow at the assertion while Goose lets out a ‘bullshit!’ “Okay,” he cedes, “it’s pretty bad, but I wouldn’t give up being at home with Maria and the kids for the world.” Maria, who is heavily pregnant, rests her hand over her bundle of joy.

The lights choose that moment to dim, commanding stragglers to find their seats, but neither man moves. Slider stands up. “Here,” he offers Ice his seat on Cougar’s left because the two clearly have some catching up to do. Ice takes the seat while you slide over to stay seated next to him, and Slider takes your spot as the lights come up on the stage for the opening ceremony.

By the time everyone is seated and some speaker makes his way to center stage, Ice is only half paying attention to the night’s program. He and Cougar have a lot to catch up on in appropriately hushed whispers. You’re about to zone out when you’re yanked back to the present by a hand on your knee.

Above the table, for prying eyes, Slider doesn’t give anything away. Attention seemingly focused on the stage. Below the table’s skirt, however, you press your thighs together as Slider’s hand massages the skin exposed by the modified slit in your dress. Familiar callouses drawing senseless patterns above your knee. His hand stays there, occasionally giving you a comforting squeeze, like he knows you crave reassurance through gentle touches after being dragged so far out of your comfort zone. It’s nice. Before long, between the buzz of quiet conversation and each soothing caress, you relax back into your chair.

Polite applause fills the room as the admiral gives the podium to the next presenter. Pete and Carole chuckle at something Goose murmurs. Wolfman yawns. Someone coughs. A waiter comes around to top off champagne.

You wrap your fingers around the delicate stem of your flute, raising it to your lips in the same instant that Slider’s palm shifts so it’s wedged between your thighs. Your sharp breath is lost in the crowd as nimble fingers creep higher, never once pausing their massage.

The corner of Slider’s lip tugs the slightest bit up. Smug bastard. When you’re sure no one is paying attention, you give his wrist a tug, but instead of retreating, Slider brushes a finger against the flimsy fabric of your panties.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you become hyper-aware of how loud your breathing is, and your brain kicks into overdrive. Can anyone hear you over the clink of glasses? Your nails dig into the meat of Slider’s wrist in surprise, but you’re fairly confident that the rest of you looks normal—suddenly, you’re not sure what that means.

Is this the way a normal person’s mouth rests? The way a normal person sits in their chair? You need to leave, but you can’t. Being good for Ice, among other things, means not causing a scene. Not fleeing the room in the middle of a presentation. Not letting anyone know that while your boyfriend dutifully splits his time between the podium and his colleague, his RIO is pushing your underwear to the side for better access to your cunt. How you’re responding to his touch.

“Hey.” Pete’s giving you a strange look from across the table. “You okay?” From the way he’s pulled a face, you missed the bar for normal, and now Goose and Carole are also looking your way.

“I’m fine,” you hiss. “I-” need a distraction. You mentally stumble as Slider continues to stroke up and down your slit, his fingers spreading the wetness until they glide effortlessly through your lips.

The universe grants your wish when the crowd bursts into polite applause and the mic is turned over to the next speaker. “Isn’t that Admiral Benjamin?”

“As in Penny Benjamin?” Carole perks up, sitting tall in an attempt to get a better look at the stage while Pete bangs his head onto the table. Probably. You’re admittedly not paying attention.

Pleasure zings up your spine as thick fingers nudge your clit. A reward for redirecting the eyes on you. It’s everything you can do not to press your hips into the pressure or let your head loll back with a gasp. And with Penny’s father keeping attention off of you, Slider hooks an ankle around yours to encourage your legs further apart.

You shouldn’t, but Slider has always been convincing.

Ice won’t be particularly pleased with how promptly you gave into Slider’s suggestions, how readily your legs fall open, but that’s barely a blip on your radar as firm circles rub into your clit. The devil on your shoulder whispers that if Ice had really wanted to win, he shouldn’t have allowed himself to be so easily distracted. 

None of that matters nearly as much as it should when your heart pulses between your legs.

A hand lands on your velvet-covered thigh. Ice. “Sweetheart.” You whip your head around too quickly for the move to be anything but suspicious. Like you’ve been caught with your hand—or someone else’s—in the cookie jar. You try to focus on the cool, grounding pressure of his touch. It’s working, you think, but your leg is still trembling from the effort it takes to keep still. Keen eyes move from your face to your leg, trembling under his touch, to your lap, and then to Slider, where they narrow almost imperceptibly. “You alright?”

With a nod, you reach past your champagne for water to wet your dry throat. “Just taking it all in.”

A poor choice of words. Ever the opportunist, Slider presses a finger into your hole, the stretch delicious and unexpected enough that you almost choke. If anyone catches the color on your cheeks, you hope they’ll blame your earlier drinks.

“I was just saying I didn’t know Maverick had a sister,” Cougar says, this time loud enough for the table to hear him.

“He doesn’t talk about me much.”

“Yeah,” Pete scoffs, “because when people find out about you, this–” he gestures between you and Ice “–happens.”

“You got any other sisters, Mav?” Chipper’s question from the next table over prompts Pete to load a pomegranate seed onto this salad fork. He’s ready to launch, but a disapproving look from Jester dissuades him. Goose flips Chipper the bird in a show of solidarity.

“So when did this happen?” Cougar asks, eyes flitting from you to the blonde on your right.

Slider chuckles and leans into the conversation at the same time as he crooks his fingers. You bite the inside of your cheek. The circles Ice is rubbing into your knee aren’t as distracting as either of you wants them to be. “He hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of her since we made it to Miramar.”

Hypocrite. You clear your throat. “About five months?”

“Aw,” Maria sighs in that way so many in long-term relationships do. You try and fail to focus on that as a second finger prods at your opening before pushing in slowly. “You’re still in the honeymoon phase.” Thankfully, Ice steps in with a reply because all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears when Slider rubs his fingers against your sweet spot, thumb applying steady pressure to your clit. Your nails dig crescent moons into Ice’s wrist in a last-ditch attempt to ground yourself because if Slider keeps this up, it’s going to take a miracle to keep you from causing a scene.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Viper’s unapologetic quip appears from seemingly nowhere. Your own personal savior. “I need to borrow Iceman and Slider, Maverick and Merlin, Hollywood and Wolfman.”

You shiver at the abrupt emptiness. Slider wipes his fingers, dripping with arousal, off on the tablecloth, eyes locked on Ice.

Next Chapter

[sammythedogee]

IceMav - smutfic!

TLDR: ice gives mav head after a long day + mild aftercare

AN: i’ve literally never written smut before so if u have any tips they’d be greatly appreciated

It had been a long day. Maverick’s helmet, which he had brought home for the purpose of showing Bradley, had been utterly scratched to all hell by the same kid. Mitchell couldn’t be mad, not at his nephew, but fuck was he grouchy to everyone else.

The second Iceman got home and Maverick was being bitchy, the blonde knew he had a rough day. He asked Goose, and sure enough, the helmet story fit what he assumed happened. So, Iceman immediately went to make his favorite dinner, which loosened up Maverick enough to curl into him before bed.

Ice’s hand travelled in slow, smooth rhythms up and down Mav’s back, tracing his muscles with simple circles. Maverick’s hands tangled in Iceman’s shirt, his back nearly arching into him.

Ice chuckled under his breath, “Damn, Mitchell.”

“Fuck off, Kazansky,” Maverick replied, though his heart wasn’t into it. They bantered enough normally.

There was a beat of silence. Maverick wondered if somehow he upset Iceman with his little quip, but before he could ask, Ice whispered, “You really want to say that to me, Pete? Really?”

His hands travelled lower, tracing the waistband of Maverick’s boxers through his pants. “Because I might have to take you up on that offer.”

Mitchell had always been weak for Kazansky, his breath hitching, “Ice, baby, you don’t have to…”

Cut off by the blonde’s lips on his, Maverick got his answer. The feeling of Ice’s frozen hands sliding across the smooth expanse of his ass makes him shiver.

“Are you okay with me doing this, baby?” Ice asks, his hand stilling. “If you don’t want to tonight, that’s okay-“

“Shut up, Kazansky, yes I’m okay with it. Just… continue.” Maverick’s eager words stumble over one another, immediately cutting off Ice’s questioning.

Emboldened by Maverick’s passion, Ice grins down at the brunette, his hands squeezing his ass, “Alright, sweetheart. If that’s what you want.”

Ice presses another kiss to Maverick’s lips, pushing him to lay beneath him on their bed. Kazansky’s leg slots between Mitchell’s thighs, causing a sharp gasp to escape Maverick. His hips snap forward, to which Kazansky’s free hand holds steady.

Softly laughing, Iceman responds, “Jesus, Mitchell, you weren’t kidding. Relax. I’ve got you.”

Despite Maverick’s desire to protest and make himself seem the stronger man, he knows how badly he wants Iceman, and that his attempts would be futile.

Ice finds the zipper of Maverick’s jeans with ease, slipping them off of his body. Slowly, his hands trail up Maverick’s thighs, running over the seam of his boxers. Kazansky’s lips move in tandem with Mitchell’s, their tongues dancing.

Mitchell’s muffled encouragement is not lost on the blonde, his fingers flitting over Maverick’s still clothed cock. It’s driving the brunette insane.

Pulling back, Mitchell mumbles, “Tom, I swear to god, if you don’t actually touch me-“

“Shh, patience, baby. You know I’ll take care of you. Just trust me.”

Iceman can tell Maverick’s desperate already, and tonight isn’t meant to push his limits. It’s just meant to help Maverick blow off steam. So, he removes Mitchell’s boxers, his already hardening dick exposed to the blonde.

Kazansky holds eye contact with Mitchell as he lightly grasps his cock, fingers trailing his shaft. Maverick’s always been responsive, and he has to fight the urge not to thread his fingers in Iceman’s hair already.

Ice grins up at him, wrapping his full hand around Maverick’s dick. Ice slowly begins pumping him back and forth, to which Maverick rocks into gratefully. Ice uses his freehand to hold Maverick down just enough for him to maintain a steady rhythm. Ice’s thumb slides over the head of Maverick’s cock, precum wetting his fingertip.

Without missing a beat, Ice replaces his hands with his lips, wrapping them around Mav’s cock. Hollowing his cheeks, Kazansky lowers himself all the way onto his dick, Maverick bottoming out. It takes effort to push past his gag reflex when Ice feels Maverick enter his throat, but he’s done this enough for him that it’s become nearly second nature.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” Maverick pants out, a pillow propped up behind his back so he can watch as Ice so perfectly takes care of him.

Ice uses one of his hands to sink lower, fingers fondling his balls. The soft noises Maverick is emitting are more than enough for Iceman to ignore the screaming in his lungs. It’s not a thought that lasts long, because it’s that moment that his platinum hair is tangled between Maverick’s fingers.

Pete whimpers out, “Oh my god, Tom, I can’t- fuck, I’m-“

For one very, very painful moment, Kazansky pulls back, “Mmm. Use your words, baby. What do you want?

“Shit, darling, I have to come, please, can I-“

Before Maverick can finish his desperate plea, Iceman sinks back down onto his cock, Maverick’s dick hitting the back of his throat. Kazansky redoubles his effort, Mitchell’s cock worked beautifully.

“Tom!”

Within seconds, Maverick’s head is thrown back, hips slammed upwards into Iceman’s mouth. Kazansky swallows every drop of Mitchell’s release, his come coating his throat. Maverick’s breath is ragged, body trembling just slightly beneath the blonde.

Slowly, Kazansky eases off of Mitchell’s cock, working him beautifully through his orgasm.

Mitchell releases Kazansky’s hair, looking down at him with concern, “Fuck, I’m sorry, baby, was I too rough?”

Iceman shakes his head, pulling himself up to Maverick’s side. He draws Mitchell to his chest, a soft laugh spilling out into the room. “No, Pete, you were perfect. Was that good?”

Maverick exhales, his arms around his waist, “Yes, Jesus. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, love.” He whispers into the brunette’s hair, his hand running down his back.

There’s a few moments of gentle silence on both ends, the pilots catching their breath.

Eventually, Maverick asks, “Tom, do you… I mean, you sucked me off, do you want me to get you off, too, baby?”

Iceman hums in response, calmly thinking through his query, “Save that for the morning. Get some rest, Pete.” He murmurs, “You did so well.”

Maverick almost instinctively combats his request, but he knows Iceman is right. He’s dead exhausted and bound to fall asleep any second now.

“Fuck, I love you, Tom.” Maverick whispers into Iceman’s chest, feeling the world grow heavy around him.

“I love you too, Pete. Goodnight,” Ice gently responds.

It’s not long until Maverick falls asleep, the rhythmic sound of Iceman’s heartbeat and breathing are more than enough to lull him to rest. Kazansky’s up a little while longer, getting up briefly only to grab towels to clean Mitchell off properly (Mav muttering his own, sleepy grievances to his husband leaving for any amount of time).

Once Ice lays back down, his Mav tucked to his chest, he, too, is out.

AN: hi so like i’ve never written smut and i don’t have a dick so if any of this was incorrect PLLLEAAASE let me know omg 🙏🙏🙏 also i’m probably gonna (someday) write a version w/ pre bottom surgery transmav w/ iceman (very self indulgent) so any suggestions r SSSOOO appreciated okay thank you <3

[daisyxdaydreams]

Top Gun Masterlist

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Started: July 15, 2025

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Tom "Iceman" Kazansky

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Robert "Bob" Floyd

[jakekazansky]

Had a productive week so here’s chapter 4 of Guys My Age aka my Nick/Jake fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64280986

[jasperhaleluver]

Any requests for any fanfics are welcome!! I'll write smut, fluff, angst just no like over the top weird stuff pls. no fetishes or stuff like that 😭. I'm excited to start writing again I apologize if the stories aren't the best, it's been a while.

[multifandomworldsposts]

Last Day of Kinkmas: Spending The Night With Goose

Kinkmas 🎄✨🫶🏻

A/N: i just want to say thank you for the love and support on kinkmas! i would love to do this next year if anyone wants me to <3 so please enjoy this story! 🫶🏻

pairing: nick ‘goose’ bradshaw x fem!reader

warning: hickeys, protected sex, riding

Y/N’s POV

Nick invited me to spend the night at his apartment near the navel base and I’m actually excited about it.

“How’s your food Y/N?” He asks about to drink his coke.

“It’s so good, where did get this from anyway?” I question.

“At Jason’s.” He replied with a fry in his mouth.

I smile because the food is so delicious.

When Goose and I were done eating Goose took our plates to his kitchen and I get comfortable on his couch and when he came back to sit down next to me, I get closer to him and he wraps his arm around me which he makes me feel safe.

I fall asleep on Nick but he leaves me on the couch and went to bed. I wake up in the middle of the night but I couldn’t go back to sleep, so I try to find him and he sleeping on his bed so I lay next to him. When he woke up from his sleep and notices me. He gets closer to me and we cuddle.

I kiss him and he kisses back. I wrap one of my legs around his waist, I can feel him chuckling into our kiss which makes me giggle as well.

“How long have you been wanting to do this?” He asked.

“Since we met.” I smile.

He makes us do nose to nose.

“I know this might be fast but I’m in love with you.”

“I feel the same way, I’m in love with you too Y/N.”

I touch his hair and he touches mine. I kiss him again and he kisses me back, he gets on top of me and begins to kiss my neck, which made me gasp, I feel him giving me a hickey, I arch my back a bit and I can feel him kissing my body but all you hear is me giggling by his mustache.

After a while he makes love to me by him going in and out of me protectively. I tug on his hair again which made him go faster, I scream but Nick covers my mouth so you can muffled screams from me. I need to ride him!

Eventually I rode him, I can feel his hands gripping onto my hips to guide me. When I would look at him, I can tell he’s been enjoying this from when I began to kiss him.

We lay on his bed heavy breathing, I cuddle with him. He looks so tired by what we just did, I hope he makes me spend the night all the time.

“I can believe that just happened.” I look at him.

“I never knew that you were good in bed.” He looks at me.

I giggle.

“Nick, I love you, beyond much.” I confess.

“I love you too, Y/N, if you want to spend the night again, you can.” He smiles.

“I thought you never asked.” I giggle.

[nickeverdeen]

Top Gun masterlist

Romantic = ꫂ ၴႅၴ Platonic/Family = ִ ࣪𖤐

Match up:

Nothing yet

Preferences:

Nothing yet

Maverick/Pete Mitchell

Imagine:

Nothing yet

Hcs:

Nothing yet

Smut:

Nothing yet

Alphabet:

Nothing yet

Charlie/Charlotte Blackwood

Imagine:

Nothing yet

Hcs:

Nothing yet

Smut:

Nothing yet

Alphabet:

Nothing yet

Iceman/Tom Kazansky

Imagine:

Nothing yet

Hcs:

Nothing yet

Smut:

Nothing yet

Alphabet:

Nothing yet

Goose/Nick Bradshaw

Imagine:

Nothing yet

Hcs:

Nothing yet

Smut:

Nothing yet

Alphabet:

Nothing yet

Viper

Imagine:

Nothing yet

Hcs:

Nothing yet

Smut:

Nothing yet

Alphabet:

Nothing yet

Carol Bradshaw

Imagine:

Nothing yet

Hcs:

Nothing yet

Smut:

Nothing yet

Alphabet:

Nothing yet

Wolfman

Imagine:

Nothing yet

Hcs:

Nothing yet

Smut:

Nothing yet

Alphabet:

Nothing yet

[bradshawssugarbaby]

not me finally writing the goose smut i previously promised 👀

and if this world runs out of lovers, we'll still have each other

🌼 fics 🌼 Making Love Out of Nothing At All ✿

minors dni. | anything ✿ contains smut/sexual themes.

[topgun-imagines]

Day 2: Famous Last Words

Pairing: Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw x fem!reader

Warnings: death, blood, suffocation, car crashes, loss of a loved one, & wounds.

Word count: 1.2k

Note: Thank you @ohtobeleah for helping me out with this one!!

Your fiancé's laughter was the last thing that you heard before everything went quiet. Nothing had ever been this quiet before. It was almost peaceful. Almost. Right up until you felt the searing pain come from your abdomen. All of a sudden, everything seemed off. You could still hear Nick talking to you, but you couldn’t make out a word he was saying. And while your whole body felt numb, you could quite easily detect the immense pain shooting up and down your right arm.

It was raining. The road conditions were bad. That semi truck ran the stop sign. All were perfectly true excuses as to why Goose was watching the love of his life bleed next to him, and yet he couldn’t help but blame himself. If he had just looked up a few seconds sooner or if he hadn’t taken that back road, you wouldn’t be hurting right now.

A million thoughts rushed through his mind as he stared at your nearly unconscious form. When accidents like this happen, there are two common reactions; fight or flight. However, when Nick saw the way your head lolled to the side, all he could do was freeze. It wasn’t until the first drop of blood spilled from your mouth that he moved. He immediately moved to cradle the side of your head. While your eyes weren’t fully closed, he could see them rolled back into your head.

The sight nearly had him throwing up in the mangled car. Goose had never been this scared in his life. He was absolutely terrified. So much so that he completely ignored the searing pain in his wrist. It shot all the way up into the side of his neck but right now, he couldn’t care less. His main priority was you.

The semi truck had plowed into your side of the car, meaning that you caught the brunt of the impact. It was obvious, from the way that you were dangerously unfocused when he called your name and the visible injuries that he could see from here. Your fiance knew that it would only be so much worse under the surface. With his good hand, Goose unbuckled his belt and tried to tilt your head up.

Suddenly, Nick’s voice was so much clearer than before. It seemed as if your head was underwater with the way that you could instantly detect everything around you. From your fiance's horrified cries, the sound of the car alarm and the feeling of the jagged metal cutting further into your flesh. Goose sounded relieved when you finally squinted your eyes open. “Thank god, Honey!” He cried, well past the point of being close to tears. They rolled down his cheeks quickly, not a single one caused by his own physical pain.

But even though your eyes were now open, they were unfocused. “Honey?” Goose tried, tapping your cheek gently. There was more panic in his voice when you couldn’t respond to him. If the RIO were to drop his hands, your head would fall back into the limp position from before. Instead, he shook you softly, pleading that you could just look at him. When you started coughing violently was when the panic truly set it.

Goose watched, helpless as blood leaked down the corner of your mouth, dripping onto your already-ruined white blouse. One of your favorite shirts, the one that you wore on your first date with Goose, now stained with your crimson blood. The man had never hated irony more than he did in that moment. “No. No, no, no, no.” He murmured, desperate to make you okay. Praying wasn’t something that Goose did often, but right now he was begging anyone that would listen to simply keep you safe.

He shook you gently, wishing, praying, that your eyes would just focus on him. “C’mon Honey, you don’t get to leave me like this,” Normally, Nick Bradshaw was a fun, care-free man. However, at this current moment, he was slowly losing his reason as to why he ever was that man. You were the light of his life, the woman he was going to marry and hopefully the mother of his children. Nick didn’t know what he was going to do if he lost you. Sobs racked through him violently when you coughed up more blood. “Please don’t leave me.” Goose couldn’t even hear how loud he was yelling.

“Baby you’re gonna be okay. I’m gonna get help.” And yet he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Not even for a second.

You were shaking, however, you had finally managed to focus on your fiance. “Goosey,” Slowly, so slowly that Nick wasn’t even sure it was really happening, you raised your hand to cup his wet cheek. A sad smile graced your beautiful, blood stained face. “My big stud,” Ever so gently, your humb stroked over his cheek, brushing the tears away from his mustache. “Don’t stop yourself from falling in love again. Please.” It was almost like you were begging him, but Goose couldn’t focus on it when he realized the implication behind your words. You were ready to die. You were ready to leave him. How was he supposed to just accept that?

“No.” It was firm. He was not letting you leave him. Not like this. All you could do was smile, tears of your own leaking down and into your blood-matted hair.

Your voice was shaky and weak. “My sweet Goosey,” Coughing again, more blood landed on your shirt. “I love you so, so much…” And then you were coughing uncontrollably, the blood filling your lungs and slowly suffocating you.

Gut wrenching sobs teared through him. “No. Please Honey…” He was pleading, the most vulnerable he had ever been. “Please don’t leave me.” Ever so slowly, that once-bright light in your eyes slowly died out. Your fiance went to speak one last time just as you drew your final breath. “I love you more honey. So much more.” Only, you never heard it. You told him that you loved him and he waited until it was too late to say it back. And that realization had Goose feeling sick to his stomach. Before he knew it, he was bent over in the car, contents of his stomach emptying quickly.

The man remained in the position for so long that he lost track of time. Eventually, his hands drifted down until he was putting pressure on your wound. Pointless as it was, he would do anything to get you back. There was itching more that he wanted than to be holding his baby in his arms, safe and sound. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop his crying. It was soon interrupted, however.

“Hey buddy!” Nick turned his head, bloodstained hands desperately clutching at your lifeless frame. His tears clung to his flushed cheeks. The man was convinced that he had never looked worse. Honestly, he had never felt worse either. To the left of the totaled car, he was met with the sight of a short man with jet black hair wearing a brown leather jacket running toward the wreckage. “Are you alright?!”

a/n: Hope you enjoyed! Join the whumptober taglist! 😊

Tagging: @xoxabs88xox @ohtobeleah

[allforreading-fandomthings]

Ocean of Love

Ocean of Love | Top Gun Masterlist

Goose, Mav and Carole are a polycule. Then lce comes into the picture and becomes Mav's boyfriend. It doesn't take long until Mav introduces lce to the group.

[callsignthirsty]

Chapter 2: On the Roof

Shit weather can only stop me for so long! Here's chapter 2

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader x Ron “Slider” Kerner Summary: The boys receive their commendations, and you keep your legs crossed. Should be easy, right? Wrong. Word Count: 3680 Warnings: Smut, bets and wagers, semi-public sex, fingering, oral sex (female receiving) Chapter: 2/4 Minors DNI Previous Chapter

“Sooo,” Maria Cortell leans as far forward as her bump will allow, drawing out the word with a smile on her lips. It’s become apparent that you’ll be waiting a while for your stolen tablemates to walk onto the stage and receive their commendations. “Are wedding bells ringing?”

Your poor heart, which had only just slowed, skips an unsteady beat. Maria’s question, for as simple as it is, packs one helluva wallop.

The thought hasn’t crossed your mind. You haven’t even said I love you—not for a lack of love, but because you’ve lost many of the ones you love over your life. Admitting the depth of your feelings—whether for family, friends, or beaus—always seems to precede an abrupt departure of said person from your life. But now that Maria has mentioned it, what are you supposed to do?

Distracted, you twist your cloth napkin between clammy hands. It’s not like you can marry Ice and Slider, but you can’t date Ice forever, either. especially not if he’s trying to climb the ladder. He’s expected to marry. To have kids. The white picket fence experience. A wife to come home to.

“They must be,” Merlin’s wife jumps in.

Maria nods with the enthusiasm you wish you felt. “Bill and I were looking at houses after three months. I’m sure you’ve at least talked about it.”

Goose throws back a full glass of wine.

They think they’re being supportive, and it would be nice if it weren’t so terrifying. “I–”

“And now’s the perfect time,” Maria doesn’t even realize she’s cut you off. “Who knows how long he’ll be stationed at Miramar?”

“Ooh! You could get married on the beach.”

Cougar catches your lack of participation. “Don’t scare her off, now,” Cougar says, placing his hand on top of his wife’s to get her attention.

“Oh please,” Laura brushes Cougar aside, “they’ve been practically wrapped around each other all night. Ron said they’ve been inseparable.”

Maria sighs. “Poor Ron.” Carole chokes, but the only one who pays her any mind is Goose, who smacks her between her shoulder blades and refills her water. “I remember how close he and Tom were at Pensacola, must be hard for him to watch his friend settle down–“ something must flit across your face because she hesitates mid-sentence, her eyes widen a little as she realizes the insinuation, and she all but lunges for the distraction of her sentry of a water glass, “–but, um, I’m sure you have a friend you could set him up with?”

“Oh,” Goose interjects loud enough to turn a couple of heads and incite a stern look from Jester, “I think this is them.”

It isn’t.

“That would be fun,” Laura coos back to Maria without skipping a beat. “Think of the double dates.”

“Come on,” Goose tries again, “you don’t want to set someone up with Kerner, do you?” And didn’t Goose know it. He squawks when Carole catches him in the ribs with her elbow, but Maria and Laura are off to the races, passing the idea back and forth and painting a picture of your future while you struggle to keep up.

“You’ll always have someone to keep you company when they end up on a carrier halfway around the world.” Maria.

A sly look from Laura. “You know, if you time it right, your kids can grow up together.”

“Community is so important,” Maria agrees, ducking around a waiter’s arm as dinner plates are settled.

“Sam and I were lucky enough to be stationed near my family when we had the girls.”

“I don’t know what I’d have done without the wives’ group while I was pregnant with Robbie.” Maria gives her husband a tender smile and smoothes a hand over her belly. Whatever she says next is drowned out by applause.

This time—as Goose breathes an “Oh, thank god”—a familiar group of flyboys are led onto the stage. The commander keeps it brief; says some words about the Layton mission and the courageous efforts of the aviators who defended the boat from enemy MiGs. Everyone gets a pin on their lapel before they’re all ushered off the stage. Your legs are crossed by the time they make it back to the table.

The rest of the dinner passes without issue. Plates are cleared. The program comes to a close with the cutting of a cake. A cacophony of music and conversation erupts as the masses are released from their seats and the event finally catches its second wind. More immediately around you, the flyboys spill into the space between their tables and continue catching up.

Hollywood and Sundown introduce their dates—fiancée and wife, respectively—to the larger group. Jester and his wife sneak off, presumably to find Viper but definitely different company. It’s a relief to gain more social padding between yourself, Maria, and Laura, well-meaning though they may be.

It’s while you’re reacquainting yourself with the rest of the group when Hollywood asks Slider if he’s flying solo these days.

“What’s it look like?” Slider grumbles.

Wolfman slings an arm around his fellow RIO’s shoulders to pull him close. “Aw, man. What happened?”

Slider gives him a half-shrug, looking otherwise unaffected. “You know how it is. Couldn’t handle the job.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Chipper chimes in. “You’re still at Miramar.”

“So she dumped you?” Wolf’s winces as he looks up at Slider, taking his silence for confirmation. “Yikes.”

“Hey, it wasn’t like that–”

“Don’t mind them,” Sundown says, an arm wrapped around his wife. She beams at him when he assures Slider,“The right one will stick around.”

And the conversation could’ve ended there. Wolf, Chip, and Sli could’ve spent the rest of the night wingmanning each other until it was time to turn in and Slider would slip into your quarters.

Maria Cortell had other plans. “Don’t be ridiculous! We were just talking about how the future missus must have a friend she can set you up with.” Cheeks flaming, you tuck into Ice’s side in an attempt to escape his gaze. “Future missus?” His tone gives nothing away, but the stiffening of his arm beneath your hand speaks volumes.

Beside Ice, Slider raises a brow. “Were you, now?” This is a conversation you were hoping to avoid.

“Please,” Pete scoffs. “I wouldn’t wish Kerner on anyone.”

Slider sneers, but it doesn’t have any real heat behind it. “Bite me, Mitchell.”

And bless Carole Bradshaw because she sees Pete opening his mouth to say, “Which one?” from a mile away and deploys a very loud countermeasure: “I wanna dance!”

Goose grabs his wife’s hand and pulls her to sit across his lap. “Great idea, honey!” he crows, earning a kiss on the cheek.

For as long as you’ve known him, Goose has always been a darling. Everyone knows it, too. The sun is hot. Water is wet. Everyone loves Goose. His close call on Hop 31 only cemented that last truth. Nick Bradshaw is magnetic in a way few others are, and he could pull a crowd just as easily at the piano as he could, apparently, at his wife’s beck-and-call.

The display of eager, honeyed affection drawing the eyes and smiles of the group.

“C’mon, Mav, give us a push!” Goose loops his arms around Carole as she makes herself comfortable in his lap for the taxi to the dancefloor. “Should be a—what did you call it?—a target-rich environment.”

“Wait. You not seeing Blackwood anymore?” Hollywood asks, receiving ‘oohs’ from the rest of the men. Pete’s shoulder’s bunch, but otherwise, he ignores his friends. Though she was a civilian contractor, Charlie did work for the DoD, and after her relocation to D.C., Pete was technically on her turf tonight.

“He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Ice deflects.

Pete grabs hold of Goose’s wheelchair, finding it more difficult to maneuver with two passengers.  “I wonder if Penny’s here.”

Carole throws her head back with a guffaw. “After your little joyride? I’d be surprised if her daddy lets her within a thousand feet of you!”

The group doesn’t stick together much longer, inevitably breaking up as they go their separate ways.

“What do you say?” Ice asks, nodding after the group headed to the dancefloor. Eventually, Ice needs to go back to rubbing shoulders with the brass, but there’s no harm in a quick dance or two to break up the monotony.

“That’s okay, Ice,” Slider butts in, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. You repress a shiver when the same hand that had been between your legs squeezes your shoulder, fingers ghosting over the velvet near your collarbone. “You go keep Mav out of trouble. We’ll grab dessert and meet you there.”

The twitch at the corner of his lips gives away how hard Slider is fighting to keep the wolfish grin off his lips. Your ears burn, but Ice’s only reaction is an unenthused, dismissive sound. Both of you know what Slider is playing. That doesn’t stop the pinpricks of arousal from returning as you imagine Slider’s hands—both of them this time—working to finish what he’d started under the table.

“How long have we known each other?” Ice asks Slider.

“Going on ten years.”

“And I can count the number of times I’ve seen you eat cake on one hand,” Ice muses.

Undeterred, Slider offers you a lopsided, wolfish grin, his fingers tracing down your arm and raising goosebumps in their wake. “Who said anything about cake?”

“There it is.” Ice flicks Slider’s fingers from their path and threads his fingers through your own. The same Iceman mask he wears around the tarmac is firmly in place when he levels Slider with a look. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You’re pissy because I had this in the bag before I was interrupted.”

“And how were you planning on getting away with it?” Ice hisses with a glance to make sure the three of you are well enough alone. “Sitting at a table full of people.”

“I had a plan,” Slider scoffs.

“A plan to get caught with your hand up her skirt.”

“You’re just upset you walked right into it.” Ice clenches his teeth. He doesn’t have a responding quip, and Slider knows it. Ice had been too excited by the sudden appearance of Cougar to realize Slider was gunning for a quick win. “All it takes is one mistake,” Slider needles.

Wearing down the competition with technical precision is a page straight out of Ice’s book and his fingers twitch ever so slightly in your grasp, Slider rubbing it in his face that he’s fallen prey to his own game. It’s a mistake he won’t make twice.

Ice takes a deep breath and looks to the barrel-vaulted ceiling as if he’ll find the answers he’s looking for among the gold leafing. “We’re leaving now.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” Slider taunts, but Ice is back on his game. He serves Slider a smug look as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“Goodbye, Kerner.”

In the dance hall, you’re a single drop in a rolling sea. The band is louder here, the floor tacky with spilled beverages, but you find a pocket of space as the music slows. Pete hangs onto the edge of the crowd with Goose and Carole, his face pressed between Goose’s shoulder blades as he helps his best friend stand to dance with his wife—Carole, you’re sure, is crying.

Gentle hands bring your focus back to your partner as he encourages you to step with him to the rhythm. When you look up at him through your lashes, you almost forget the rest of the room. Taken by the flint of his eyes in the low light. A smile bubbles to life on your rouged lips is an inevitability.

You spin beneath his arm and let Ice reel you in until his breath tickles your ear. “You’re stunning.” You glow under the praise, fingers playing with the short hairs at his nape. High praise.

It makes you wonder: does Ice even know what he looks like?

The ever-present tan of his skin highlighted by the contrasting white of his uniform. The smarts. The confidence. A beauty mark on his jaw. High cheekbones. The way he moves.

He has to know. Not for vanity, but for fact. 

“How’re you holding up?” He must pick up on the restless twitch of your muscles or maybe the flutter of your heart in your palm.

You paint on a smile. ”I’m fine.”

You can’t suppress the shudder that wracks you or the sharp intake of breath when he lifts your chin with a finger, lashes brushing your cheeks as a kiss is pressed to your forehead. When he tugs you closer, you go easily, but you’re unable to fully relax into the embrace.

“Did you know you only say you’re fine when you aren’t?” He shifts his hold so it feels more like a hug, a soft quirk to his lips. It’s easier for him to hold you like this when you fade into the crowd. There’s less pressure. Fewer eyes on him when his hand shifts lower, dexterous fingers tracing over the knobs of your spine and raising goosebumps beneath the luxurious drape of your gown.

The band does wonders to mute your gasp, but Ice doesn’t miss the way you jerk in his grasp. Sensitive.

“Was it…?” He doesn’t finish in an overabundance of caution for who may or may not be eavesdropping. The hand you’d let linger near his nape comes to fidget against his chest as you lay your head against his shoulder and nod while focusing on the ba-dum of his heart. “Do you need to leave?”

“No.” Sure, you tingle with each brush of skin on skin. Yes, you’re eager to soak up each touch. But, as you meet his eyes, you mean it. “I’m just a little overwhelmed by all of this,” you fib.

Slider may be pushing the boundaries of decency—may have definitely blown past them during the dinner— and you may be wound tight after so many days without either of their company, but you can do this. Tonight is about Ice, and you intend to see it through.

“But I don’t want to leave.”

Ice keeps you close as the song fades out and the band counts in a fast-paced number. “Look,” Ice concedes when you break free of the dancing. Playtime is over, you can practically see the cogs turning in the metal of his eyes as Ice comes up with a revised plan. “There are still some people I need to talk to, but after, I’ll get us out of–”

“Just the man I was looking for.” Ice stops so abruptly that you stumble into him. “Admiral John Benjamin,” Penny’s father introduces himself, taking Ice’s hand in a firm shake. “Really good stuff on the Enterprise.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The praise, though sparing, is well-deserved. But the obsequious nature of his comment is revealed in the way the admiral’s eyes scan the nearby crowd. Ice isn’t his target.

“Say,” the admiral drawls as he drops all pretenses, “you wouldn’t happen to know where your wingman is? I want to congratulate him on a job well done.”

You very much doubt that, but as you glance over to where Pete had been with Goose and Carole earlier, he’s long gone—Carole helping her husband back into his wheelchair, the only evidence Pete had been there at all. And Ice knows enough through retellings of Pete’s past run-ins with Admiral Benjamin that you trust him not to sell your brother out. At least, not if he doesn’t have to.

“I haven’t seen him since we received our commendation.”

“Of course. Congratulations again on those,” Benjamin clips. “But you must have some sort of idea of his whereabouts.”

“I–”

“Ice. Admiral, sir.” It never ceases to amaze you how someone as large as Slider can so easily fly under the radar when he wants to. “I need to borrow her for a minute,” he says before Ice can say anything, and because he can’t do anything when Admiral Benjamin continues to squeeze for information on Pete, Slider steers you out of the dance hall.

It had been a crisp 66 degrees in DC, the setting of the sun taking what remained of the day’s warmth with it. The cold creeps beneath your skin as Slider beckons you up the roof access, shimming the door with a wad of folded cocktail napkins so you can slip back to the party later.

Though shrouded in darkness on the flat of the rooftop, the bright lights of the capital might as well be a hair’s breadth away. Too close for comfort. Before you can protest, Slider engulfs your hand in his and looks for a more suitable, more private corner. It won’t do to be caught, though Slider doubts anyone will come looking. But it pays to be cautious.

“You have any idea how good you look in this?” Slider rumbles, voice resonating from deep within his chest in a way that makes your insides quake. He lets you know with a demanding kiss, his lips lightly stained with your rouge when he pulls back so you can suck in a breath.

“Sli.” The wind carries your whine toward the street, where it’s drowned by the brassy horns of street traffic. When goosebumps erupt along your arms, your fingers scrabble for his shoulder boards in a bid to keep him close.

It takes next to nothing to convince Slider to give in to your plea. Crowding close as he smears kisses and color down your neck. “It’s been so hard to keep my hands off you.” Said hands grab fistfuls of you over the velvet of your gown; the smooth rasp of the fabric over tender skin makes you gasp.

“You didn’t,” you point out.

“No,” he agrees, fingers reacquainting themselves with the gusset of your panties. “But can you blame me?”

“Who else would I blame?”

Dizzy with desire, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep a heady whine locked away when fingers slip between your pussy lips to tease around your entrance. “Do you want me to stop?” Slider asks with a lopsided, teasing grin.

“Don’t you dare.”

Instead of giving you what you want—two fingers to fill you where you feel hopelessly empty—Slider’s hand withdraws from your panties. You’re a second from demanding he put his hand right back where he had it when Slider lowers himself to the ground. “Wait–!” you exclaim as his first knee touches down on the unkempt rooftop floor “–your pants.”

“Don’t worry,” he says as both of his hands slip under your dress, eager fingers drawing the lacy elastic of your panties down your legs. “That’s what drycleaning’s for.” But his other knee stays decidedly off the ground.

Slider scoots himself closer, impatient hands rucking up your tight-fitting dress until he can take advantage of the slit in your skirt. He hikes your leg over his shoulder, soft skin exposed to the night, but you’re far from cold as he chases the fabric with scorching kisses up the inside of your thigh. Deliberately leaving marks where no one else at this stuffy party will see them.

His hair is just long enough that the tips begin to curl. You spear your fingers through the short waves and fist what you can. Normally, you’d hold him close as he litters your hip with hungry kisses and sharp, rosey blooms, but with the way he’d worked you up earlier, you pull his head toward the apex of your thighs. You can go back to being Ice’s pretty trophy girlfriend after you cum on Slider’s tongue.

Slider lets out a gruff rumble of a chuckle as if he’s read your mind. A nip makes your leg jump in his grasp, your heel knocking against his back, but he’s as eager to get this show on the road as you are.

Face half-obscured by black velvet, Slider’s tongue laps over your clit. Eyes slamming shut, whole body pulsing in time with your heart, head thunking back against the wall. Slack-jawed, you encourage him to do it again with a shuttered but wanton noise in the back of your throat.

“That’s it,” Slider encourages, his other hand reaching up to massage your ass and drag your hips forward in a slick grind against his mouth. You tremble in his grasp as he continues to roll your hips against his face before he opts for a new angle of attack.

A quick reposition of the leg over Slider’s shoulder grants him better access for a more thorough assault on your cunt, and your back arches when his tongue prods at your entrance. Blood roars in your ears while your walls clench around nothing at the promise of his tongue, but it only teases at your lips.

You try to drag him closer with your one leg, letting go of Slider’s hair with one hand to steady yourself against the wall. Sli takes that moment to dive in, tongue finally fucking into you and his nose bumping into your clit in a way that has your heart stuttering and limbs shaky. Your hips jolt at the touch, back arching off the wall.

It’s messy, the pinpricks of Slider’s stubble eased by the mix of arousal and spit coating the apex of your thighs. The barely muffled slurp as he parts your lips and delves his tongue inside before engulfing your clit in the wet heat of his mouth and giving it a suck.

Slider’s eyes are half-lidded when he meets your gaze. “You’re close,” he breathes, calloused fingers petting up your leg directly to your clit and drinking in the shiver it knocks loose, your lips red as you bite back a moan. “Don’t worry,” he says, two fingers dipping the slightest bit into your cunt before drawing back to rub at the opening, “we’ll get you there this time.”

Against your back, the wall rattles as the roof access bangs open.

Next Chapter

[southstarlight]

〉SOUTHSTARLIGHT'S MASTERLIST

TLOU 》 ellie williams modern au - headcannons / f!reader / fluff bestfriend!modern au - headcannons / f!reader / angst + slight nsfw my rockstar - one shot / f!reader / angst + smut 》 dina woodward 》 abby anderson

ARCANE 》 vi 》 caitlyn kiramman 》 sevika 》 mel medarda

TOP GUN 》 pete "maverick" mitchell impulsive decisions - one shot / naval doctor f!reader / angst my eyes in the air series 》 tom "iceman" kazansky 》 natasha "phoenix" trace 》 jake "hangman" seresin 》 nick "goose" bradshaw 》 bradley "rooster" bradshaw

MISSION IMPOSSIBLE 》 ethan hunt 》 ilsa faust 》 benji dunn 》 william brandt

MARVEL 》 bucky barnes "the winter soldier" 》 steve rogers "captain america" 》 natasha romanoff "black widow" 》 wanda maximoff "the scarlet witch" 》 tony stark "iron man"

MISCELLANEOUS