#it's a picture that's very dear to mav

[looney-just-like-her-tunes]

photos in mav's hangar; maverick & baby goose

[mrslectermoriarty]

Headcanon Series #16

Ice and Mav finally get their shit together after the Uranium mission. Don't ask me how, theories in the comments. Anyway, they kiss in public - on base or something, it looked very dramatic - they become a couple and the next morning Ice walks into the building he works in (enter important navy office) and half the officers he passes look very pissed at him, ready to bite his head off. Especially older ones he's known since the 90s or so. Most of them grumble some unfriendly sounding greetings into his direction. Some of the younger ones though smile at him with such happiness and sometimes clap his shoulder or congrate him, he can't really comprehend what's happening.

He shrugs it off and enters his office, only to find out his long time secretary and dear friend Mrs. Lesser is about to leave. For a vacation. She's never taken a vacation before. Sure, some free time over the holidays or when Ice took a break from work, but never longer than a couple days. Now she's gone for a few weeks.

The weird events continue when two hours later, a mad looking Admiral Hanson stands in his door and rants something about Tom being childish and stupid and how he could do such a thing. "Seriously, Tom. All those years and now you gotta pull a stunt like that? I thought better of you."

After the third officer passing his office and muttering something among the lines of "Really great, Kazansky," Tom calls for a meeting. He's the COMPACFLT after all. He outranks most people in the building. And this seems rather serious.

"Gentlemen, I am at loss for words. Your overall behaviour today has not only been out of line for work but also simply disrespectful. If this has anything to do with the events from yesterday, I can only say I am disappointed. We are professionals and the government, the state and the people depend on our work. We can't let something from any of our private lifes affect us like this. We're grown men and we should be able to handle such things like grown men. We can only function as a united front."

There's an audible huff at the other end of the table, coming from Admiral Marcus. "Easy to say for you, you got the guy you've been thirsting over for the last 40 years, I lost about 200$ because of you and Mitchell." Admiral James, who sits next to him elbows him. Tom's eyebrow start to wander. "How exactly do you loose 200$ because of me? Please, elaborate."

Opposite from Marcus and James, Admiral Cameron pulls a thick folder from under the table and slides it over to Tom. Whispers and even gasps erupt. "It's over, so he might as well know now."

Tom opens the folder and is greeted with a long list of people, dates that reach back to the 80's and huge amounts of cash written down. Between the pages are various copied documents of conversations between him and Mav, pictures of them together on various occasions and hand-scribbled notes with more dates and different statements on them. Tom's eyebrows almost disappear in his hairline. "What is this?", he quietly asks, afraid of an honest answer.

Cameron sighs and speaks up: "Some guys from your Topgun Class apparently started this in 86'. It was about when you and Mitchell would get your shit together and do something against that unresolved tension between the two of you. They expanded their list with every squadron you both were in because you guys weren't subtle at all but also extremly stupid and the rest got a kick out of betting who'd give in first and when this would happen. At the ceremony in the 00's, when you got your stars, an Admiral got a hold on the list and decided to join. He brought it over here and no-one couldn't really resist. And now we heard of you and Mitchell eventually putting an end to this. Of course people are pissed, they bet way to high on the wrong guy or year!"

Tom's eyes skim down the list. It seems like every person he's known inside the Navy has their name written down on the yellowing paper. He spots Mrs. Lesser on there and let's out a surprised chuckle. "Marywas really good. Got almost 3000$ out of this. No wonder she's on vacation." He drages his hand over his face to regain some grip on the situation.

"I can't even- how did you manage to hide this from me for so long?", is the only question he gets out. James laughs. "We're the military. We have our ways." By now the whole table is chuckling or whispering in amusement. Tom can only shake his head, but also smiles. "Can I take this home? I need this in a proper display on my office wall. Or maybe over the dinner table. And you are all invited to an apology-BBQ."

Okay, I know this was weird, but in my head I can see so many people in the Navy that just see Pete and Tom working together and they think like "Yeah, these two are totally gonna end up together." I love people shipping IceMav, I'm sorry.

[callsignthirsty]

Stuck in the Middle — Chapter 3 — Both

Co-written with a friend who isn't on tumblr. Pairing: Ron “Slider” Kerner x Reader x Tom “Iceman” Kazansky Summary: The one where Maverick’s sister is on a mission to give her brother a heart attack by sleeping with not one, but two of his colleagues. Word Count: 6400 Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, threesome, creampie(s) Chapter: 3/3 Read Previous Minors DNI

Pete returned home some hours later to find you in a very… festive scarf. Unfortunately for Goose, who had opted to stay with you until Pete arrived, it had done little to hide the hickeys littering your neck. That had been an interesting night.

Little did any of you know that hickeys, unseasonal scarves, and the Iceman would be the least of your worries in the coming days.

A hop gone wrong had you and Carole scrambling to get to the hospital.

They were alive, but it had been a close thing.

Pete was released that same day after a thorough evaluation. Goose was still unconscious. As tears leaked from his eyes, you knew that your brother was blaming himself, but there was little he could’ve done to avoid flying through Ice’s jetwash — Viper had stopped by the hospital to say as much.

You spent one, then two days in the hospital. Classes continued — fly long enough and it happens, they said, but Pete wasn’t ready to go up again. Not without Goose. And on the third day, like a miracle, Goose’s eyes blinked open. “Holy shit.” His voice was scratchy from disuse.

Carole sat upright at his side. “Nick?”

“Mav, where’s my camera?” Goose croaked, ignoring his wife. “There’s an angel by my bed. The guys ‘ll never believe it if I don’t take a picture.” When a nurse entered the room, relieved tears were tracking down a laughing Carole’s face, Bradley smiling in his Uncle Mav’s arms.

On the fourth day, Goose encouraged Pete to return to class because “You can’t let Ice and that big oaf run away with our trophy. They’ll never let us live it down.” Pete had reluctantly agreed when Goose gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll do great.”

Pete smiled. “Thanks, dear.”

So the summer continued: hot days spent on the tarmac and by Goose’s side. And then, graduation was just a day away. Goose, unfortunately, wouldn’t be able to attend, but he had enough points to graduate, and Pete planned on going for both of them. You, Pete knew, would be in the audience, and there lay his current predicament:

Iceman.

Well, more accurately: Slider. After he’d returned home from his date with Charlie, Pete got an eyeful of hickeys and Goose’s side of the story. Namely, everything had been fine until Kerner opened his big mouth and burrowed beneath Goose’s skin so that Ice could steal you away.

If Pete had any hopes of keeping you and Ice separated after the commencement ceremony, he needed Slider.

* * *

Classes wrap and Slider is cleaning out his locker when he becomes acutely aware that he's one of two people left in the room. And even though Mitchell's back is to him, years of training and locker room antics mean that Slider knows when he's being watched. But the silence grows long and goes stale to the point that he's almost convinced that Maverick isn't going to say anything — which is a surprise because Maverick always has something to say.

"Kerner."

There it is.

"Mitchell."

"Congrats on the trophy." It must be killing Maverick to say it, and Slider smiles because, yeah, the trophy is his. It feels fucking good. But that's not what Maverick stuck around to say. It isn’t what he’s after.

Slider doesn’t want to drag this out longer than it has to be, so he gets to the point. "What do you want?"

The question hangs while Maverick takes a second to think before speaking — and isn’t that a scary thought? — when he finally spits out: “I have a proposition for you.”

"I don't swing that way."

"What? No." And Maverick spins to shoot Slider a dirty look. "I want your help keeping Ice away from my sister. At graduation."

"Why me?" The million-dollar question, though Maverick doesn't realize it.

"If you're helping me, you aren't helping him," Maverick says like it should be obvious. And, okay, yeah, that’s fair.

"What makes you so sure I'll help you?" Slider can’t tamp down the Cheshire grin at the way Maverick squirms. But besides being his pilot, Ice is his friend, and… well, they aren’t putting labels on whatever this thing is with Mitchell’s sister. "Besides, I think he's earned a little celebration." Hadn't they both? From the look on Maverick’s face, Slider would say his answer is ‘no.’

"I can pay you."

“No, you can’t.” Because even if Mav did have money, which Slider’s sure he doesn’t, his price would be too high. The trophy and a fuck? Pete Mitchell would have to be the richest man alive.

“I heard the guys say you got yourself a girl.” It’s a reach at best, but it shocks Slider into silence. Briefly, he wonders if someone had, in fact, seen the two of you in or on his car. But if that were the case, he doubts Maverick would be talking with him now. “She coming to the ceremony?” Maverick tries as Slider collects himself, trying to come off cool and collected like Ice always manages to.

“She hasn’t decided yet.” A lie. You’ll be there. You wouldn’t miss it for the world. Hadn’t let Maverick and Goose come to Fightertown without you in the first place.

Maverick smiles as if he’s got an idea. An in. “If you help me out,” he says, “you can borrow my bike.”

“Why would I—”

“Ladies love it,” Maverick insists, and Slider ignores him in favor of clearing out his locker. “Even you’d look good on a bike, Kerner,” Maverick tries again. “Everyone does.”

“Hey.”

“Think about it,” Maverick’s voice drops as he sets the scene. “She’s clinging to you as you speed down the road. Wind in your hair. Her arms wrapped around your waist. Tight body pressed all up against your back. And the adrenaline rush—” Mav’s eyebrows raise as if he’s remembering something fondly or really trying to sell the idea “—makes for amazing sex.”

Slider can’t help the smug grin that overtakes him — ice-cold, no mistakes was never his schtick. “Is that right?”

Mav’s smiling too, his head nodding lightly like they’re on the same wavelength. And maybe they are because Slider’s thinking about it. “Mind-blowing.”

Well, if Mav insists. “Alright.”

“So you’ll do it?” Maverick seems almost surprised that it’s worked. Like he hadn’t imagined Slider was, in fact, a man who could be reasoned with.

“Yeah,” Slider confirms, zipping up his bag and knocking his locker shut one last time. “Don’t make me regret this.” He wouldn’t.

* * *

“Gentlemen,” Viper says from the podium with a proud smile. “You came here the best of the best. We made you better.” You sit near the front of the audience, smiling and clapping with everyone else as the speeches finish, and the Top Gun trophy is presented to Lt. Tom “Iceman” Kazansky and Lt. Ron “Slider” Kerner. The new nameplate shines brighter than the others, but maybe you’re biased.

As soon as you can, you’re up from your seat. You go to Pete first; give him a hug and a heartfelt congratulations. Then, when he’s distracted by another graduate asking after Goose, you slip away. You’ve successfully snuck up on Ice’s six and are seconds from giving him a congratulatory kiss when Slider moves to intercept. Time freezes for a moment, and you’re worried that Slider intends to kiss you in front of this crowd — Top Gun trophy still in the hands of the man most of his class knows you to be with. When the moment passes, however, that worry twists into deep-seated confusion.

Ice frowns. “What gives?” Because he’s never known Slider to be a cock-block.

“I’ve got orders.”

“From?” And you can see Pete smirking into his drink as Ice all but demands an answer.

“Mitchell.” You and Ice look at Slider as if he’s grown a second head. “With Mother Goose still in the hospital, he needed some help keeping the Iceman away from his baby sister.”

“And you accepted?” Ice’s jaw clenches.

“Deal’s a deal.” Ice scowls, the look wholly out of place considering the trophy still in his grasp.

“What did he offer you?” you can’t help but ask.

“Not important.” Somehow you doubt that.

The rest of the graduation party is… well, not what you’d expected or hoped for. For one, you’re still there. Every time you try to get close to Ice, either Slider or Pete gets in your way. And this is worse than Pete and Goose because Slider is intimately aware of all your evasion maneuvers — he’d helped you come up with a good number of them.

You’re positive you’re going to scream when Viper swoops in with actual orders. Jester hands envelopes to Ice, Slider, Hollywood, and Wolfman. And Pete.

Before anyone can stop you, you wrap Ice in a hug. You throw your arms around Slider next, then Pete, who can’t be mad when you’re squeezing him like this might be the last time you get to. The “be safe” you whisper into his ear means more after Goose’s accident, but you don’t have time to talk about it before they’re all whisked away.

* * *

Maverick doesn’t want to give Slider his bike when they return to Fightertown. Says he’d barely had to work for it since they’d left the graduation party early.

“A deal’s a deal, Mav,” Slider says, but it’s gentler than it would’ve been a week ago. Mav and Ice are wingmen now, so Slider’s trying to be nice. Not too nice. Not I’ll-stop-fucking-your-sister nice — and Slider supposes that’s the one that counts the most — but nice-nice.

It’s a start.

You’d received no fewer than three phone calls, so you’re not surprised to hear the motorcycle roll up to the curb. What does surprise you is Slider at your door with Pete’s keys in his hand.

“Come on,” he says as he gathers you in his arms until you can feel the solid ba-dum of his heart on your cheek. “We’re going for a ride.”

It feels strange climbing onto Pete’s Kawasaki behind Slider, but as the engine roars to life and you wrap your arms around his middle, you’re confident you’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

Slider pulls over at a roadside diner. Ice is already inside, fingers drumming against a table in the corner and Academy ring glinting in the sun when Slider holds the door open for you. He beams when he sees you and makes room beside him at the booth. It seems only fitting to sit beside him since you’d been clinging to Slider moments ago.

The three of you catch up over food and a shared milkshake. Ice and Slider tell you what they can about the mission: the tight bunks, the awful food, the budding friendship with your brother. In exchange, you give them the latest on Goose’s progress in physical therapy. It’ll be a long road to recovery, but if anyone can do it, you know it’s Goose.

When you’re ready to leave, Slider wants to take you out for a spin — after all, he’s been assured that the ladies dig a man on a bike, and he wants to test that theory.

Slider would rather swallow glass or wait in line at the DMV than admit it out loud, but Mav’s right. The warm press of you along his back, small hands clutching at his waist as the engine hums between your thighs, is something else. Ice isn’t thrilled to see him climb onto the bike with you, both sans helmet, and insists on trailing behind the bike in case something goes wrong. It won’t, but whatever makes Ice feel better, Slider supposes.

And although his tailing had started as a protective compulsion, Ice quite likes the way you look wrapped around Slider — your hair a wind-tousled mess and jacket snapping in the wind.

It’s purely coincidence when you spot Charlie’s Porsche at a stoplight; its top down and a familiar head of cropped black-brown hair behind the wheel. At first, Pete offers Slider a cheeky grin, a friendly wave, and then — out of curiosity, you’re sure — his eyes slide to the back of his bike. You can’t bring yourself to hide your face, frozen when Pete’s eyes lock on you and almost bug out of his head, his smile dropping and face ashen with sudden realization. Slider’s laughter reverberates through your chest. The light chooses that moment to turn green, and Slider takes off.

Over your shoulder, Ice honks when Pete refuses to move, a smug smile on his lips as he zips after you.

When you return to Ice and Slider’s place, you rest your cheek in the space between Slider’s shoulder blades, your own shoulders shaking as your mirth bubbles over, and soon you’re shaking from the rush of it all.

Cat’s definitely out of the bag now.

Once the door is open, Slider gets to work. By the time Ice walks in, Slider already has your back against the wall, lips taking yours in a bruising kiss as adrenaline courses through your veins. His big hands slide beneath your shirt to cup you over your bra. Damn Mav, but he’s right. And, as your fingers catch in his shirt-back and pull him closer, Slider has zero intentions of letting you go anytime soon. Not when he’s got you exactly where he wants you. Definitely not when each slide of his tongue over yours teases cute noises from the back of your throat.

Ice must be thinking something similar because he’s quick to join you. His fingers find yours tangled in Slider’s shirt to help you lift it until the RIO has to break your kiss to take the offending garment off. It’s a mistake that Ice takes full advantage of, stealing your lips in a kiss of his own.

Hands resting on your hips, Ice guides you around until he’s the one leaning against the wall. He’d wrap an arm around your waist to tug you closer, but Slider is already plastering himself to your back, so Ice settles for a deep kiss and revels in the wanton noise it earns him.

Without the sweet distraction of a kiss, Slider works your jacket down your arms and into a heap on the floor. He takes your hands in his and leads one into his hair; the other he guides down until it’s slipping under the loose hem of Ice’s shirt. Ice jolts at the skin-to-skin contact and your answering moan gets lost between the slick slide of lips and tongues. Your teeth clack against Ice’s when Slider presses his hips into yours with a sinful grind that drags his cock against the swell of your ass as he finally sucks a mark into your neck — consequences be damned. But instead of pulling him away, the hand in Slider’s hair encourages him. You tilt your head to the side and re-slot your lips against Ice’s while giving Slider more room to work a deep bruise into smooth skin.

One of Ice’s hands cradles the back of your head, his lips working insistently against yours as your hand trails fire over his abs and up to his chest. Perfect teeth catch on your bottom lip and you break apart panting, but then Ice pulls you back for more greedy kisses. His other hand grabs one of your belt loops and uses it to pull your hips away from Slider’s so they’re flush with his own.

While Ice keeps your mouth occupied, Slider’s hands return to the thin material of your bra. He’s growing more impatient with each of your whimpers, the steady roll of Ice’s hips pushing your ass back against his erection which, to Slider’s exasperation, is still trapped uncomfortably beneath the rough denim of his pants. With a barely-there nip that erupts goosebumps across your shoulders, Slider rucks your shirt up until it’s bunched beneath your arm, but Ice refuses to stop kissing you — whether because he’s a greedy bastard or because he’s skeptical that Slider will steal your lips away the way Ice had was anyone’s guess.

The sharp rip of tearing fabric wrenches your lips from Ice faster than anything else Slider could’ve thought up, your nipples pebbling as cold air assaults your heated skin. “Hey!” you scold as the fabric falls limp to the floor.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Slider promises as he unhooks your bra with deft fingers and grabs your chin to pull you in, licking at your lips before taking them in another harsh kiss. You let yourself be turned from Ice to chase the feeling of Slider’s lips claiming yours. Behind you, Ice flings your bra to the side and hastily removes his own shirt.

Slider may be driving, what with the way he has both you and Ice trapped against the wall, but Ice is far from passive. The two join forces in an all-out assault on you from both sides. Hands bumping as they knead and tease and take you apart piece by delicious piece. Teeth scraping against your collarbone. Your nipples pebbling between calloused fingers. Chests heaving. Lips smacking. The sweet friction of denim dragging over denim as you all move together. Sighs, growls, and groans lost between teeth and tongues. The mixing taste of them on your tongue as they push and pull, give and take.

You shiver, moaning into Ice’s mouth as he plays with your tits. Not to be ignored, Slider shoves a hand down the front of your jeans, two fingers working deep into your dripping cunt. Then Slider’s fingers are gone, and before you can say something in protest, you squeal as he throws you over his shoulder. “Ron!” you giggle, another excited shout leaving you as one of Slider’s hands lands playfully on your ass and he turns to bite at your hip just above the line of your jeans as he moves the party to the bedroom.

Slider throws you onto the bed, and you bounce before settling tousled among the pillows. Your thighs fall open in a wanton display, and you crook a finger to reel Slider in until he’s licking a path from your open zipper and up to nibble at your jaw until he’s stretched over you. You moan at how he fits so snugly between your legs and his chest rubs against your own.

“How do you want to do this?” Ice asks, leaning against the doorframe, his arms flexing none-too-subtly when your eyes find him over Slider’s shoulder. He’s a sight to behold — cheeks a slight, breathless pink, arms crossed beneath his chest, belt buckle weighing down the open flap of his pants to reveal more smooth skin and the tented white of his briefs. You lose sight of him when Slider turns his head.

“You can take her mouth since you’ve been hogging it all night.” Slider kisses your cheek, his dark eyes on your as he crawls back down your body. “I’ve been thinking about this pussy for days.”

Ice crosses the room with unhurried steps, long fingers caressing your jaw. “Is that what you want?” he asks, thumb tracing your full bottom lip while Slider mouths at your hip bones. The RIO’s hands slowly pull your jeans and panties down to savor the moment. You bite your lip, briefly catching Ice’s thumb before he pulls it back. A flush of heat travels through you as Slider’s eyes meet your own and he presses a final kiss to your hip bones before he ventures lower.

When you nod, Ice pulls his cock free, eyes never leaving yours as he pumps himself lazily and kicks the rest of his clothes all the way off. Opposite him, Slider grips your leg behind the knee and raises it, revealing the diamond of your cunt. You keen, fingers threading through Slider’s hair and hips jerking as his tongue drags over your core. Lightly stubbled cheeks rub against your sensitive thighs and set them aflame as Slider’s eyes blow wide, his breath fanning over your clit before he gets to work.

Not to be forgotten, Ice’s fingers return to your jaw, light but with enough pressure to turn you back to him. His cock hangs heavy between his thighs as the bed dips to accommodate him. As he rubs the head across the seam of your lips, Slider pushes his tongue against your slick folds with a groan. You’re buzzing, jaw falling open with a sweet noise, and Ice gives into the temptation to tap his cock to your tongue before pulling back and smearing saliva and precum across your cheek.

Unprompted, you take the tip between your lips, tonguing at the slit to savor Ice’s taste before trying to work more of him into your mouth. Slider watches from between your thighs as Ice lets out a low groan, his hand falling into your hair as you work his cock in and out of your mouth. All the while, Slider’s tongue continues to fuck into you, a finger coming to rub spit and arousal into your clit until you’re trembling, hips seeking out the slick press. Slider slips a finger into you alongside his tongue, reveling in the way that Ice’s cock slips from between your lips as you unabashedly moan, thoroughly distracted from your current task.

Distantly, Slider thinks that the real surprise isn’t that Hollywood and Wolf had heard you; it’s that it took them so long.

Ice brings one of your hands up to fist around his cock, his eyes glued to Slider as he continues to wring more wanton cries from you.

Slider smacks his lips. “She tastes good.”

“Yeah?” Ice’s Adam’s apple bobs.

Slider takes another lick that’s purely for show, his chin covered in your juices. “Sweetest pussy there ever was.” Ice groans as he imagines it, cock twitching as he thrusts into your fist, and Slider ducks down to suck on your clit before he asks: “Want a taste?”

“Fuck yes.”

Slider stands back and practically rips his pants off while Ice takes his place between your thighs. Ice throws your legs over his shoulders before diving in and drinking his fill. He groans as the tang of your sex explodes across his tongue, your heels digging into his back. Slurps at your dripping cunt with a fervor that makes your back arch off the bed.

“Please,” you cry.

“What do you want, sweetheart,” Slider asks, suddenly at your side and taking one of your nipples into his hot mouth.

You whine, arching up into Slider and down against Ice’s face. “Fuck me. Please.”

“Well, when you ask so pretty.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Ice soothes. He scrambles up, already running the leaking tip of his cock through your spit-slick folds. “I’ll fuck you real good.”

Slider raises a brow. “Why do you get to fuck her first?”

“Because I’m here.”

For a moment, you’re worried they’re going to break into rock, paper, scissors. Slider looks ready to get up and do something about Ice taking advantage of his generosity — he’d said Ice could have your mouth, dammit. But before he does, or you can whine for someone to hurry up and fuck you already, Ice’s hand settles on the curve of your waist, and he pushes in. You groan. Slider drops back against the bed and rolls his eyes. He shouldn’t be surprised; Ice always gets what he wants.

As the jut of Ice’s hips settle against you, Slider takes your lips in another kiss, his hands kneading at your tits. It isn’t his first choice, but Slider can be content with this — swallowing your needy moans, tracing the outline of your lips with his tongue. Making up for the time he’s lost with your mouth to Ice’s greed.

Each rock of Ice’s hips causes your tits to jump the slightest bit within Slider’s large palms and against his tongue as he sucks on a perky bud and applies gentle pressure with his teeth. Before his lips find yours again, his hand trails up your chest and applies gentle pressure to your neck. You shiver, arching into the touch. Slider loves the dazed expression, the slack ‘o’ of your spit-glazed lips when you wear his hand like a necklace, and your eyes brim with rampant desire. He dives in to leave a mark just below your jaw, reveling in the way that you dig your nails into his hair and the way your head is thrown back, and the way you must be clenching around Ice from the strained “fuck” he hears coming from the foot of the bed.

Slider lets out his own punched-out “fuck” when your hand wraps around his cock and strokes. It’s uncoordinated with the way Ice is trying to take you apart and awkward due to the angle, but that’s more than fine. Slider needs something to take the edge off, and your touch is just that. He doesn’t want to finish in your hand. Not tonight.

You bring your lips to Slider’s and let him take the lead while Ice turns his attention to your legs. He lifts one up to his shoulder, and you hum into your kiss at the stretch. Progressively sloppier kisses are pressed from your ankle up your calf. Ice’s new angle has him sinking deeper into you, but he keeps his thrusts slow, the cadence so different from the one you’d had on the beach, but one that — if kept up — he knows will have your legs shaking, back arching, nails scratching. Especially if he keeps hitting that spot.

As it is, your cunt is clenching around him with each forward shove of his hips into yours. Squeezing around him as if to keep him inside of you. Milking him.

With a curse, Ice pulls out, and you break from Slider to whine at the sudden empty feeling. Ice gropes at your hip and offers it a pat before he’s encouraging you to roll over. As you move to accommodate the change in position, Slider grabs you, and you yelp as he manhandles you onto your knees.

“Hey,” Ice says.

Slider just turns you so you’re facing Ice and enters you with a harsh snap of his hips. “My turn.” You want to chastise them, tell them to play nice, but all that comes out is a pathetic mewl. Slider’s smile is haughty. “Still so tight even after Ice fucked you,” he groans as your walls suck him in. Your jaw falls slack, and a pleasured noise tumbles free into the night. When Slider has you screaming, one of his hands fists in your hair. “Come on,” he growls. “Open that pretty little mouth for Ice.” And you do, tongue lolling out over your bottom lip as you look up from beneath thick lashes.

Every time Slider’s hips crash into yours, you’re pushed further down Ice’s cock. Your taste is heavy on his skin, an intoxicating mixture of tang and his musk. Sweet. Salty. You suck more vigorously, hollowing your cheeks as your head swims. When Ice’s hips jerk forward and his cock tickles the back of your throat, you moan long and low. The vibration pulls a shiver from Ice, his fingers whispering across your flushed cheeks and attempting to card through your hair where Slider has it pulled tight.

When Slider nails your sweet spot, you pull off of Ice. “Ah, fuck!”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Slider preens, releasing your hair to smack your ass. “Want you to let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.” He holds your hips still and grinds torturously into you when you don’t comply.

“God, Ron,” you gasp. “Don’t stop!”

“That’s it, baby,” Slider says. You bite your lip self-consciously, wanting to keep your pleasure from the ears of any passersby.

Ice thumbs your lip free of your teeth. Rubs over the indents left behind until you let out another pathetic whine. “Don’t hold back,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. We want to hear you. Everyone already knows.”

Slider’s hips slam forward. “Now let them all know how good you feel.”

Ice catches you as your arms give out and lifts you up until you’re clutching his shoulders. You kiss him desperately as Slider picks up the pace, the clap of skin on skin filling the bedroom. Slider buries himself in your neck to leave another bruise as you cling to Ice. Your kisses are less lips and more teeth and tongues now, but you couldn’t care less. Ice’s palms caress your sides while Slider’s hands anchor themselves on your hips to pull you back against him with each increasingly desperate thrust. The kisses Ice gives you do little to shut you up at this point, to neither man’s disappointment. You’re stuck between them. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere you’d rather be when Ice’s hand leaves your side to play with your clit, delicately circles it as Slider continues to hammer into you.

In the end, that’s what does you in, your head thrown back against Slider’s shoulder as both men work together to take you apart.

Distantly, you’re aware of Slider’s grip tightening enough to bruise, the stutter of his hips, and the garbled curses as he presses tight between your quivering thighs and cums.

Gentle fingers turn your head to the side, and Slider captures your lips in a kiss. Simple. Passionate. His tongue rolls over yours as his hands smooth over your hip bones and down your thighs. He shakes as he soaks in the closeness, your highs still crashing through you.

He pulls you with him as he half lays back against the headboard, cum dribbling from your cunt as his spent cock slips free. You melt back against his broad chest and hum as you settle against him. Slider feels warm, and you still tingle everywhere he touches you.

The bed dips as Ice crawls forward until he’s knelt between your knees, his hands planted against the duvet on either side of Slider’s thighs. “You still up for round two?” Your pussy pulses at the thought, more of Slider’s cum trailing down the crack of your ass. Ice gathers the cum on his middle and ring finger and pushes it back into you with a wet squelch. You can’t help but clench around his long fingers, back arching when one of Slider’s hands presses flat against your lower abdomen and encourages more of his pearly essence to leak out around Ice’s fingers, both of them entranced by the sight.

“Words, baby,” Slider whispers breathless and sated against your ear. “You need him to fuck you?” Ice closes his eyes and groans, his cock twitching red and heavy where it leaks against your thigh. “Need Ice to fill up that pretty pussy?”

“She’s already so full.”

“I can take it.” Your legs circle Ice’s trim waist and drag him closer still. You feel hot as you imagine him spilling within you. Being so full of Ice and Slider both that you can’t possibly keep it all inside. “I want it.”

That’s all that Ice needs to hear. He wastes no time sinking into you right up to the hilt with a sinful groan. Trembles when you cry out, soft and exquisite, your eyes already blissed out but your cunt still so wet and needy, gripping him tight as if you were the one who hadn’t cum mere minutes ago.

Each rock drives you into Slider’s chest. Not to be left out, the RIO’s arms lazily snake around to cup your breasts and tweak your nipples, his lips subdued but no less sizzling as they skim over the marks he left on you earlier.

Ice leans close, his glacial eyes dark and blown wide, lids at half-mast. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth and worries at it until you gasp, releasing it with a slick pop. “Tom.” It’s not a scream like earlier, more a frantic, heady pant, your voice rough as it washes over Ice in all the right ways. It tingles low in his spine and raises goosebumps along his arms until his shoulders bunch with the feeling.

You arch up, away from Slider’s chest but into fingers clamped over your nipples as Ice’s rhythm falters. The wet clapping of your sex is loud between your ears compared to the heavy sighs and the continuous squeak of old bed springs.

Ice gulps. “You’re so sensitive.” It’s true. Every touch feels like fire. Like straight electricity. Like pleasedon’tletgodon’tstop! and Ice’s dentist won’t be pleased with how he’s clenching his jaw. Drawing in ragged breaths and grinding his teeth to make this last even the slightest bit longer. But you’re right there with him.

Slider’s calloused fingers tap against your clit, and you’re gone. A silent scream passes your lips as you pull tight like a bow and release, and Ice snaps with you.

The three of you lie together in a pile of sweaty limbs. Cum and arousal leak thickly down your thigh and onto the bed. Despite the mess, none of you are willing to move. This is the most comfortable you’ve been in weeks. Floating somewhere high above the bed. Ice is your blanket, and Slider your pillow. At least for a couple blissful minutes.

“Alright,” Slider says, nudging none too gently at Ice’s shoulder, “get off. You’re heavy.”

Instead of telling Slider to go fuck himself, Ice rolls his shoulders and peels himself off of you. He marvels at the mess they’ve made between your legs, then moves to get off the bed and start the shower.

The shower, it turns out, is a waste.

You don’t get much sleep that night.

* * *

After breakfast, Ice helps you into his car and drives you to the hospital while Slider wheels Pete’s bike to his housing assignment just a couple doors down. Ice pulls the car to a smooth stop right in front of the visitor’s entrance. He gives you a sweet kiss on the lips, then leans up to place one on your forehead. You breathe him in — spearmint, sunscreen, aftershave.

“Will we see you tonight?” You shrug, resting your forehead against Ice’s shoulder as his hand gently massages the back of your neck. “I’m just a call away if you need me to pick you up.”

“I know,” you say, giving Ice a quick peck before opening the car door and stepping out.

As you get closer to your destination, you become increasingly aware that you’re wearing yesterday’s clothes and one of Slider’s definitely-too-big-for-you shirts. But that doesn’t stop you from slipping into Goose’s room with a knock.

“Look who decided to show up.” Pete’s arms are crossed over his chest, brows furrowed in his patent big brother scowl, but Carole is smiling where she sits at her husband’s bedside, Bradley sitting on his lap. When you don’t say anything, Pete continues: “You didn’t come home last night.”

Goose turns to you, wide-eyed and head bobbing, before falling back against his stacked pillows. They must have already given him his post-PT drugs. “Wait, where were you, then?” Pete glares at his best friend; it takes a minute for Goose's drug-addled mind to catch up. “Oh.” Goose covers Bradley’s ears, then loudly whispers to his wife, “She was having sex with The Iceman.”

“Thank you, Goose,” Pete bites in frustrated exasperation while Carole giggles.

“He wouldn’t have found out if she wore the scarf I bought her,” Goose insists before turning back to you. “Did you show Carole the scarf?” Back to his wife. “It’s a great scarf, hun.” Great was a relative term. He’d bought it from a 7-Eleven.

Carole nods, Goose dopily nodding along with her. “I bet it is.”

“Can we talk about literally anything else?” Pete asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Eventually, you’ll have to accept that this is a thing, Pete,” you say. It comes out strong, but internally you’re a quivering mess. You love your brother, but you can’t live your life for him; you have to live it for yourself.

Pete sighs. “I know, it’s just… a lot.” And... yeah.

“I know,” you say. Because it is a lot, and that’s okay. It can be a lot. You just need him to be okay with it. Okay with you.

“It’s just…” Pete shakes his head. “Kerner? Really? Ice, I get, but Slider?” Your cheeks heat, but you refuse to look away even if you’re sure the floor looks incredibly interesting right about now.

“Oh my god,” Goose gasps. “Carole?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Did you know she was sleeping with Slider, too?”

Carole grins, shaking her head. “No.”

“Mav.”

Pete sighs. “What, Goose?”

“Did you know—”

“I’m the one who just told you.” You can’t help but smile at your brother’s displeasure.

“So when we were keeping her away from Ice… was she just off with Slider?”

Pete’s head whips from Goose to you, and this time you give into temptation and study the floor. “Well, we Mitchells aren’t exactly known for our good decisions, are we?” you mumble. Pete can’t help but laugh at that.

“No, we’re not.” And with that, some of the tension bleeds out of the room.

Until Goose bolts upright, almost knocking Bradley from his lap. “We’re at a hospital.” Everyone gives Goose a confused look. He’s known he’s been at the hospital since he woke up — had the doctors switched up his meds? But Goose is staring intently at you now. “Do you need to take a pregnancy test? The nurses gave me this button that I can push to bring them in and– Mav, you okay?”

Pete does not look okay. His face is ashen, eyes wide but unseeing as he slowly slides down the hospital wall.

“Goose, dear,” Carole says with a hand on her husband’s arm as she watches Pete with a careful eye, “you can press the button now.”

“Ahh yisss,” Goose slurs, hugging Bradley close and spamming the nurse-call button.

[mrsjavymachado]

top gun class of 86' shenanigans

everyone knows maverick and goose are bestfriends and that they do the dumbest shit together all the time. whether in the air or on land, those two are never not fucking around, and the rest of the tg86 class love it. there's never a dull moment with goose and maverick in the mix

one day goose and mav snuck into all their classrooms early and whenever jester sat down there was a whoopie cushion, every. single. time. the first time it happened heatherly jumped a foot in the air and hollywood laughed so hard his hat fell off, which of course caused everyone  to laugh. so much so that jester, red in the face, made them all run laps until they stopped laughing. even viper cracked a grin at the outrage on jester's face, and winked at and mav and goose because he absouelty knew that they did it, and by the end of the day everyone else  did too.

another time, for sundown’s birthday, chipper left base early, because of course he did, and bought a pie. so when he and sundown sat with the rest of their class for breakfast in the mess hall, after everyone sang (butchered) a rendition of happy birthday, chipper told him to close his eyes, before smacking him in the face with the pie, a bright smile on his face as he yelled, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUNSHINE!" and then took off with sundown hot on his heels and pie all over his face. goose got a great polaroid of the whole thing and chipper  keeps it on the inside of this locker. sundown was still yelling about his hair having pie in it later in the day and did the same thing to chipper on his birthday. then it became a tradition for all their birthdays to pie each other. viper even got in on it and did it to ice, now that was a great polaroid.

another time, maverick and ice made a bet, and ice lost so his punishment? having to ride with maverick, on his motorcycle for a whole day. slider nearly pissed himself when he heard about it because everyone knows that mav rides but no one hates that thing more than goose and ice, especially since maverick refuses to wear a helmet no matter how many times they both try and get him to. mav swears they have meeting on when they team up to harass him about the helmet, but nevertheless ice lost and was now holding (clinging) to maverick for dear life as goose and slider were talking beside them. slider was leaning on goose with tears in his eyes as he watched ice yell at maverick about "not letting him die" before they had even started riding, hell the bike stand was still out, which mav pointed out to a very unamused iceman, sighing, maverick turned around and lifted ice's helmet up (he still wasn't wearing one) and kissed him softly, "ice, baby, i'm not gonna kill you okay? trust me." and ice begrudgingly did, so when mav lifted up the kickstand, turned around and reved the engine, ice relaxed just a little bit, then mav, being the lovely asshole boyfriend he is, turned around and sped down road with ice yelling in ear about how he was going to break up with him once he was off the damn bike and goose and slider, now watching with hollywood and wolfman heard ice yelling from down the street.

  when ice ice baby came out slider, mav and goose made it their ringtone for ice, and he has never been more unamused.

 goose and carol had ice and maverick watch bradley once and poor baby cried so hard when ice and mav left to go home because, "his uncles are so cool” and “he doesnt want them to go.” and from then on they've babysat him every time goose and carol need them to, and once when the four of them all went on a double date, hollywood and wolfman offered to watch him, and when they came home the three of them were cuddled up on the couch with hollywood's hat on bradley’s head, with him on hollywoods chest and wolfmans arms around both of them. goose took a picture and left them there before turning off the lights, carol decided that the pilots would get pancakes as a reward tomorrow morning and bradley got a few more cool uncles to brag about at school.

once jester were lecturing and hollywood was leaning back against wolfman's chest with his hat covering his face, hollywood wshipering into his ear, and jester barely glanced at them before clearing his throat, "gentlemen if you cant keep it in your pants until the end of my lecture then i’ll sperate the two of you." and then he was back to lecturing. ice snorted so hard he had to cover his mouth and chipper put his head down, but his shudders shaking gave him away. safe to say hollywood and wolfman kept it in their pants and moved a safe distance apart from each other for the of class. they didn't live it down for weeks.

[storeboughtbrand]

Top Gun Country Dancing AU! Part 3

PREV || NEXT

AMERICA'S NEXT TOP SWINGER

*a glimpse of how each of the class of 86’ dances with Maverick w/ bonus Rooster*

Goose style: Has the most knowledge when it comes to Country Swing, though Ice is close behind and closing fast. Has a full shelf of 1st place ribbons and trophies to back it up. A combination of tricks and spins. Lots of weird funky tricks. Tries to show off Mav's ability to defy gravity as much as possible. Many moves fighter pilot based ...somehow. Very Unorthodox.

Ice: The best at performing aerial flips and shoulder tricks out of the boys. Was not satisfied with just being Top Gun (and Mav's top). He also NEEDED to be Top Swinger. Has a binder full of research complete with pictures, notations, and sheet protectors that he is not ashamed to show off (Mav finds it adorable that his hubby put in so much effort). Only the best for his tiny rebel.

Slider Style: Also unorthodox, but 1000x more fueled with testosterone and yelling (bellowing?)......roaring, definitely roaring. Honestly, no one can tell if it's an intimation tactic or if he just has an addiction. Wields Mav like he's a lightsaber, and he's a Sith Lord. Yes, Officer, He is armed and is dangerous. So whenever he and Mav make their way to the dance floor, stay out of the splash zone. B/c Shamu's going ballistic.

Wolfman Style: Has the most sensual dance style. A lot of hip movement, dear god there's so much hip. Have the time, Mav's thighs are just around his waist. His style raises the most wolf whistles (which he makes sure does not go anywhere, and the man who did it knows he will be mauled without hesitation). Somehow, his signature hat never falls off while dancing, the guys are convinced he's got an invisible string that ties it under his chin.

Hollywood Style: Very flashy, loves to showboat, he didn't get the callsign "Hollywood" for nothing. Every dance is a movie premiere, and the reviews are in..... it's a 10/10 would watch it again. Loves to dip and lift Mav up so he can strike a pose. Every time, the poses are picture perfect every damn time, and Goose has the polaroids to prove it. Definitely has a giant frame picture front and center on the living room wall of his and Wolf's house. Every time their daughters bring a new friend over, they are so confused cause that's their dad, but who the hell is the other guy. And without missing a beat, without looking at the photos, the girls are just like, "Oh, that's just dad and Mav." Who the hell is Mav????

Sundown Style: has the most tempered style, does the occasional dips, spins, and flips, but prefers dipping and handholding spins. Dances for the sake of just dancing. To Ice's exasperation, some people confuse Sundown for Mav's husband, given that every time they dance they have huge smiles on their faces and talk the entire time. People think it makes Ice jealous but he's not. He knows that just Sundown's style.

Chipper Style: Treats country dancing like ballroom dancing. Has previous experience in said style and applies it to Country swing with the precision of a naval aviator. A complete gentleman. Also does ballroom dancing with Mav after Mav asks him to teach him. It's so wholesome and suave, that you can't help but swoon.

Merlin Style: If Chipper and Sundown are both wholesome, Merlin and Mav are just adorable. When they dance, it's like they've somehow turned paddy-cake into dancing. Merlin is the twirl n' spin master. He's so good at it that it's honestly terrifying. Man, he's just here for that good time, fun time.

BONUS:

Baby Goose with his cousins (Hollywood and Wolf's daughters)

Rooster and Mavdad :

Rooster cuts loose, footloose, and makes sure to kick off his Sunday shoes. When he dances, every part of his body moves somehow independently from each other but in perfect harmony. Lots of arm waving, lots of kicks, and especially lots of hips. When he and Mav dance, they feed off each other's energy and tear the dance floor a new asshole. Unlike his uncles and Icedad, he just does a two-step with all the expected swings and turns with Mav.

[xihe1874]

The last bonus chapter (and simply, the last chapter)!

Let's welcome our beloved king, Iceman!

-------------

Some other things:

All right everyone, though I am not quite done with this universe, I believe this is officially the end of Hang the Hangman with Love, the multi-chapter fic. There may be more fics to come in this AU, but they will be posted separately.

This is my first time to write (and finish) a multi-chapter fic in English. I have had so much fun writing this one, and I am so overwhelmingly happy for all your love for it! I am not the most confident writer, and I happen to be an introvert who work very very far away from my hometown lollll. So, your support really means a lot to me ❤️

This has been a wonderful and fantastic journey! Thanks again for all your lovely company. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do.

Till we meet again, my dear readers. All the best. And Merry Christmas in advance!!!

<3 <3

----xihe

-------------

(A reminder: you probably should connect the bonus chapters with previous main text ones, then they will make more sense! You can find them on AO3 or here among my posts, tagged the fic title)

-------------

Bonus+2: Ice's Inbox

-------------

[Chat with Maverick]

Maverick: How’s your throat today babe?

Iceman: Good.

Iceman: How’s your vacation with the daggers?

Maverick: Wonderful. Those are good kids

Maverick: We are at a bar now, very similar to the O’ Club where I met you for the first time

Maverick: bring back so many golden memories of our youth

Iceman: You mean when we were one second away from strangling each other?

Iceman: Yeah, such great time

Maverick: I don’t know about you

Maverick: But I was actually thinking about another way to take your breath away then

Iceman: I miss you

Iceman: wrap up your vacation and come home now

Maverick: You are lucky that I love you, bossy asshole

Iceman: remind myself of that every single day

Maverick: While I am still away, you can make some use of this picture… 

Maverick: … of me on the beach, freshly taken today

Maverick: 😏

Maverick: [send a picture]

Iceman: …Maverick!

Iceman: I have a meeting with the President in one minute!

Maverick: You should have seen this coming when you called me dangerous and then married me on purpose

Iceman: 

Iceman: Yeah, yeah I should

Iceman: love you

Iceman: Come home safe

Maverick: I will

Maverick: love you too

Maverick: (and three)

———————————

[Chat with Goose]

Goose: I can’t believe that so many years have passed

Goose: Mav still can’t get that song right

Goose: My tummy still hurts from laughing so hard

Iceman: There are more than one song that he can’t get right

Iceman: Actually, there are no song that he can get right

Goose: I am so relieved that Bradley doesn’t learn that from him

————————————

[Chat with Maverick]

Maverick: A little bird me tells me that the kid is now believing Cyclone is my husband

Maverick: It’s kind of half disturbing and half funny

Maverick: But I can sympathise with him

Maverick: I couldn’t believe my luck either when you said yes that day 

Iceman: Flattering

Maverick: You misspell factual, darling

Iceman: Why wouldn’t I? I mean saying yes that day

Iceman: I love you

Iceman: Even for the fact that you insisted to sing “Let it go” to me yesterday at the restaurant and cracked your voice

Maverick: That was

Maverick: That was designed! Stage effect! To deepen the emotion of the song!

Maverick: STOP LAUGHING!!!

Maverick: … Are you telling the kids that now??

Maverick: Looking at Phoenix's face I think you are

———————————

[Phoenix creates a new group chat]

[Daggers and Two COs]

Phoenix: Please join me in welcoming our beloved admiral

Maverick: (And his beloved husband)

Fanboy: Welcome, sirs

Harvard: Welcome, sirs

Coyote: Welcome, sirs

Halo: Welcome, sirs

Fritz: Thanks for the party, sir

Bob: Please tell us more about that maneuver you mentioned today, sir

Yale: Or better, show us someday, sir

Omaha: Is that true that Mav proposed to you on a jet, sir?

Payback: Hangman called you a bastard, sir

Iceman: Please, everyone, we are off duty now

Iceman: Just call me Ice

Payback: OK, ok

Payback: Ic...sir

Rooster: Well

Rooster: He tried

———————————

[Rooster and Two Old Men]

Maverick: But you are cuisine babe, and very delicious one 😋

Rooster: OMG MAVERICK

Rooster: If you old man can’t send the message to the right chat when you are SEXTING

Rooster: DON’T SEND IT!!!

[Rooster changes the group name to “Rooster and two disgusting old men”]

Rooster: Now I have to find some memory-erasing magic

Maverick: Sorry kid

Maverick: for the mental image

Rooster: DON’T REMIND ME

Iceman: Hey, I didn’t do anything

Iceman: That’s unfair

Rooster: You married him

Rooster: That’s enough

Rooster: Now I know why my dad has ptsd

———————————

[Chat with Hangman]

Hangman: ... Admiral Kazansky, sir

Hangman: I am sincerely sorry

Iceman: For mistaking Cyclone for me?

Hangman: ...Yeah, that

Hangman: When you said it, the thing seems more stupid than it originally was, however impossible

Iceman: Like I said, relax

Iceman: I can tell that Mav likes you

Iceman: Maybe Rooster, too

Iceman: And after all, you saved their lives, technically

Hangman: Sir, I was just doing what I... Wait

Hangman: Can we go back to the Rooster maybe likes me part?

[sebsxphia]

Thinking about Fanboy going to LA for his cousin bachelor party, where he meets the most beautiful woman he has ever seen and he ends up taking them back to his hotel room for the night. Thinking about Fanboy coming back after his weekend away and seeing them again, being introduced to the team as Mavericks daughter and as their eyes meet and they both smile, Maverick gets a knowing look in his eyes and turns to his daughter and says "I had one rule... One. Rule. No navy men", she just smiles at him sheepishly, "In my defense I didnt know he was navy, not that it would have stopped me." Maverick rolls his eyes as he guides you away while the others are smacking Fanboy on the back and teasing him for fucking the captains daughter

HEHEH LITTLE OLD FANBOY FUCKING THE CAPTAINS DAUGHTER?? god they would all gas him up so bad

but imagine you lying to mav and telling him “i didn’t know he was navy,” when in fact mickey told you very clearly on the night that he was in the navy. you turned a blind eye to completely fuck with him and mav when you knew you were going to see him again very soon. just picturing the fear run through mickey’s face when he realises you’re mav’s daughter.

oh well, doesn’t stop him from fucking you again that night :’)

thank you so much for this dear anon!! 💌

[chrismaverickdotcom]

on the flaws of search engine optimization and generating infographic driven social engagement media and influence building in the digital age of the information superhighway blogosphere...

Make no mistake, we live in the future. A lot of times I like living in the future. I have a giant flat TV with 3D projection software hanging on my wall that can pull up a million different movies at my instant command and I can control it with my watch.

I own several computers that are millions of times smarter and faster than the one that NASA used to put a man on the moon. I keep one of them in my pocket and primarily use it make phone calls and pretend to catch imaginary monsters and make them fight. It’s also good at playing porn.

I’ve spent most of today writing a dissertation and doing research that has involved books from a dozen libraries and comics that have been published over the last 79 years, and not only have I not left my house, I haven’t even put on a shirt today. The future fucking rocks.

Finally, the future also means there is social media. Social media is great. Social media means that I can rant and rave about about the national anthem protest and call people who don’t support it confederate sympathizers and people all over the world seem to care for some reason. Or, I can just talk about y weird thoughts on the movies I like and the same thing happens.  Social media means that I can bitch about social media by typing into the same magical box that I’ve been doing research and dissertation writing on (and again, it’s also good at playing porn).

But social media also means that the world has found a new way to annoy me with spam. Basically, people who just want to increase their own social media outreach and don’t give a fuck who that outreach is about.

I just got email from academia.edu (an academic social network that I’m on) that says the following:

Dear Chris,

Dominik Wujastyk invited you to comment on his draft paper “The Bakhshālī Manuscript: A Response to the Bodleian Library’s Radiocarbon Dating.” Since the Session started 6 days ago, there have been 43 comments and 356 participants. Use the link below to join the Session.

I don’t know Dr. Wujastyk. I’ve never met him. I’ve never heard of him. I’m sure his research into ancient Sanskrit literature is probably really fascinating. And he probably has some fascinating insights into the radiocarbon dating of the birch-batch fragments of the Bakhshālī Manuscript. I mean… probably? I honestly don’t really know what most of that means. I just read the first sentence of his abstract. I kind of want to comment on paper “good stuff… I just wonder, could you expand on how this relates to manner in which gender, sex and race are depicted in Batman funny books?” Because really… if it doesn’t have anything to do with that, I’m kind of out of my element.

I’ve had this other thing happening a lot lately. At least twice a week I get form mail that pretends to personalized that says stuff like this:

Hey Christopher,

I’m Bob. I run ACME Buzzword Content Providing Ltd., the internet’s premier source for super-awesome–infographic-driven-search-optimized-other-technical-sounding-stuff-that-I-heard-someone-say-in-a-youtube-video-and-don’t-necessarily-know-the-meaning-of-content design. I’ve been following your blog ever since I first encountered it on LinkedIn and I’d love to write content for your site for FREE! I have been doing this for a long time and I am very impressed with your recent article, “on Purity Balls… the creepiest thing ever…” I would like to offer you this infographic I produced called, “Unstoppable Growth of Fantasy Sports is a Reality – 101 Facts to Prove It.” It includes a timeline, demographics, trends and a wide variety of interesting facts all about the recent growth of fantasy sports. The content would benefit us both as it would bring you extra visitors while giving me the exposure I need. Do you think you might be interested in taking a look at the infographic to see if you find the information useful or relevant to your site?

And then inevitably, after I ignore it, Bob will follow up three or four times in the next week asking if I’ve had a chance to look over the content yet because he’s still following my blog and he really thinks that his content is a good match. Eventually, Bob will go away, but it doesn’t matter because I’m getting the same basic offers from Sue, or Joe or Terry or whatever. Their spam algorithms are really crappy, because not only do they often pick posts that I wrote like three years ago, the generic content they offer me never has anything at all to do with the article they link to.

Unless of course, I’m wrong…It just now occurred to me that maybe this guy thinks that purity balls are a sport of some kind and has a graphic to explain how win in your fantasy purity ball league. I mean, I refuse to click on his link, so I have no idea…  but now I’m suddenly really scared.

Anyway, dear random spammers on the internet… this blog is called ChrisMaverick.com. It’s pretty much about random stuff that I am personally currently thinking about. It is almost impossible that you could ever have anything to say that would be better at representing random stuff that I am personally currently thinking about than I can. I know you won’t read this… but I wanted to say it anyway because it is my dream that some day, three or four years from now, your random article selector article picks this post based on the sheer amount of keywordy goodness I packed into the title and buzzwords I have used throughout this article (Hell, I even tied in a parody picture of the Matrix for the thumbnail) and maybe the fact that people who read the shit I write are as big sick bastards as I am and will hopefully comment and like and reshare and whatever is needed to really up the social media Q of this on facebook and twitter and tumblr and the the like. This way, when you find it, and don’t read it to realize that in reality this is a giant fuck you to you personally. You’ll link to it the next time you send me spam. And I’ll have a nice little chuckle. It’s like a time displaced Christmas present from past Mav to future Mav just to brighten my day.

But seriously… what the fuck is the deal with purity balls?

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Here are the Russian ads that deceived users on Facebook and Instagram

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Tracy Di Marco White, Anthony LoGreco, Jessi Bencloski, Erin Childs, Gary Oberparleiter, Steve Shaffer, Meron Langsner, Deborah Cherry liked this post

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on the flaws of search engine optimization and generating infographic driven social engagement media and influence building in the digital age of the information superhighway blogosphere… was originally published on ChrisMaverick dotcom