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writingbylee · 2 years

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Hangman and the Wasp pt. 1

this used to exist only in my head but @gotomarvelgal enabled me so then it existed in our texts and now here we are

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!OC!Pilot

Rating: Mature (that means 18+ ONLY!) (Clicking the "Keep Reading" signifies that you are above 18 years old!)

cross-posted to ao3

Word Count: 1.4k

CW/TW: hand job, fingering, general sex related thinking, cursing

OC's callsign is Wasp

Wasp is over Hangman being a little bitch about everything, so she corners him alone after training one day and shoves her finger in his face and calls him a little bitch because “Jesus Bagman, the slightest bit of competition and you turn into a whiny toddler?” and “I’ve been watching you take girls home every night from the bar, so clearly you’re not frustrated. What the fuck is up with you?”

Hangman gets right back in her face with “I haven’t taken a single girl home for the past two weeks– I’ve been walking them outside and then telling them goodbye,” and Wasp rolls her eyes and calls bullshit and Hangman gets even closer to her face and then Wasp almost feels like she’s losing, like she’s not in charge of the moment anymore, and then Hangman starts to say something and Wasp realizes that he’s about to say some shit about feelings and emotions and she can’t do that right now.

So she shuts him up in the only way she can think of– or the only way she wants to– she kisses him. And, well, Hangman was not expecting that. He starts kissing her back almost immediately and then Wasp is the one against a wall and Hangman is holding her face in both his hands and she decides that she has to do something– anything– to get this stupid feeling out of her system cause if she just fucks him once, then she’ll scratch the itch, and then she’ll be fine.

Hangman’s got her against the wall and he’s crowding her in and he’s all she can see or feel anymore and then he’s got one of his hands down the front of her pants, and honestly it should be illegal how quickly he finds her clit over her underwear, but he does and she moans into his mouth. She hears him laugh and she knows he’s gonna say some cocky bullshit. So she cuts that off real quick by shoving her hand down his pants.

She doesn’t bother with teasing like Hangman– she bypasses his sweatpants and his boxers and drags her hand up slowly so that when she looks down, she can see the head of his cock peeking out from his waistband. Her mouth goes dry and she swipes her thumb across the head of it and spreads around the liquid leaking out of it and she wants his cock. She wants to feel him, to taste him, to get him inside of her; common sense be damned.

But then she remembers, and she brings herself back to the task at hand. She jerks him again and his fingers have stopped moving, which is a shame really, and she thinks he might not be breathing anymore. So she looks up at him and his head is leaned back and his eyes are closed and he’s muttering something under his breath, but she decides to ignore it in favor of continuing to stroke his cock. Her other hand comes up and dips underneath his shirt to feel his abs jumping under her fingertips and she scoffs at him. He looks down at her with a raised eyebrows, so she puts a challenge in her eyes and in her voice so he won’t know how affected she is by him and whispers,

“Quit holding back.” He moans at that and she can’t help but smirk at the power she holds over him as he starts fucking up into her hand. His forehead falls to hers and he takes his free hand and grabs her chin and kisses her again– wilder and harder than before and then his fingers start moving again, thank god, and she has to hold back a whimper at how good it feels– his warm fingers shoving her underwear aside, swiping through her folds and circling her clit. His hand moves lower and he pushes two fingers into her; she’s so wet and warm that there’s no resistance. She curses into his mouth and starts jerking him in tandem with his hips.

Because she’ll be damned if she comes first; she’ll be damned if she lets him beat her in this. They’re still kissing, but it’s more like sharing the same breath. He curses and she holds back a moan. She honestly shouldn’t be surprised that they’re competing in this; they compete in everything. She can feel his frustration as he slows down his own hips to focus on fucking her with his fingers faster and she’s not about to let him win that easily, so she strokes him harder and tries not to focus on his three fingers now fucking up into her with his thumb rubbing circles into her clit.

She feels his fingers falter inside her and she knows– she can tell that he’s so close; that he’s holding back because he wants to make her come first, so she does the one thing she can think of to finish this before her own orgasm wreaks havoc. Her free hand wraps around the back of his neck and she pulls away from his mouth and breathes one word into the air between them,

“Jake,” and that does it– his fingers stop moving as he fucks up into her hand once, twice, and then comes. It drips down her fingers as she strokes him through it and then he’s leaning against her; his forehead on hers as he rests his weight against the wall that she’s pushed up against. His fingers have slipped out of her and his hand is resting in her underwear, not even touching her anymore, just resting against her. She pulls her hand out of his pants and looks him in the eye as she cleans his cum off her fingers.

“Fuck,” He mutters and pushes his fingers back into her with renewed focus and she swears as her fingers fall out of her mouth to grip the fabric of his shirt. It doesn’t take much before she comes. He's kissing her soundly and swallowing all the noises she makes before she can even make them. His fingers slow inside her as she feels her walls flutter around them. His thumb rubs against her clit gently, guiding her through it until she can’t take it anymore. Until she grabs his annoyingly muscled forearm, and pulls his hand out of her pants. He looks her in the eye as he cleans her come off of his fingers, and it takes every ounce of military training she’s ever had to not drag him to her bunk and ride him until the sun comes up.

Jake– cause that’s who he feels like now, Jake, not Hangman– pulls his fingers out of his mouth and Wasp braces herself for the snarky comment she assumes is coming, but he doesn’t say anything. He grabs her chin with his hand again and kisses her softly; softer than she knew he was capable of. She gives in just this once and kisses him back; one hand tugging on the front of his shirt and the other one curling into the wispy hairs at the back of his neck. They stay like that- against a wall in a dark hallway with their mouths moving slowly against each other- for a few more seconds.

Wasp knows she has to pull away– has to crack a joke– has to pretend that this didn’t mean anything, that she’s just horny– that he was just there– that he didn’t just turn her world upside down, but somehow also made everything face the right direction for the first time in her life. She drops her hand from his neck and lets go of his shirt and tries to pretend that she’s not slightly proud of his ruffled appearance. She takes a deep breath and makes eye contact with him. He's tucked himself back into his boxers and is looking at her with an emotion in his eyes that she’d rather not face right now.

“Thanks for that, Hangman.” She says nonchalantly, impressing herself with the aloofness in her voice. Hangman’s eyes widen and then squint. He opens his mouth to say something, but Wasp breezes past him with more calm than she feels as she tosses “We should do it again sometime,” over her shoulder as she turns the corner before her own emotions get the better of her.

tagging people who asked/might like (sorry in advance if this isn't your thing!): @gotomarvelgal @spidervee

#written by lee #top gun: maverick with lee #jake hangman seresin #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #top gun maverick #jake 'hangman' seresin x oc #hangman fic #this is my first time posting smut ahhhhhhh #literally sent this to cass as blocks of text messages while she was in econ #oop

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tickle-bugs · 4 months

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Pre-Flight Checks

@allytheally: hi :) here's a prompt: you reblogged this thing a while ago about the seatbelts on aircraft (one on the shoulder, waist, and individual ones for the thighs) (https://www.tumblr.com/tickle-bugs/715247149506609152/hey-there-i-work-with-fighter-jets-super-hornets?source=share) and I think it'd be great if you wrote something incorporating this idea... like maybe lee!hangman and ler!rooster or lee!mav and ler!iceman and/or ler!slider? honestly any pairing would be cool

“Gooooood mornin’, Rooster.” The heavy impacts of boots on the stepladder send Bradley’s eye twitching. Hangman’s presence has a volume the way bright light slowly wears on the eyes.

“What do you want?”

“Me? I just came over to help with your pre-flight checks.” Hangman grins, cocksure. A sliver of sunshine lights up his eyes over the edge of his aviators.

“I’m clear, but thanks.” Bradley gives a little ‘shoo’ motion with his hands.

“Lemme give it a second opinion.” Hangman hoists himself up to get a better view of the cockpit. He makes a big show of scanning over the switches and buttons and humming in thought.

“Knock yourself out.” Bradley snorts and turns away. Hangman’s indecipherable muttering falls easily away under the buzz of his brain. He double and triple checks everything, noting the feel of each switch and knob under his practiced hands. Finding the rhythm of his plane is half the ritual.

Wiggling fingers fit suddenly into the curve of Bradley’s waist and he barks out a laugh, knees jerking against the straps holding him.

He blinks at Hangman. Hangman grins at him.

“Don’t--” Bradley dives to grab his hands, but the seatbelts, ever-dutiful, wrench him back into place.

“Oh, now that sounds like you’ve got somethin’ loose. No pilot should be making that noise.” Hangman tuts, but he doesn’t stop, just lets his stupid hands do their stupid crawl across his stupidly sensitive stomach. Bradley lets out a giggly shriek and tries to fold in half.

“Oh, Mav wasn’t kidding. This is my lucky day.”

“Youuuu--” Whatever half-baked insult Bradley was aiming for is smothered by his own laughter.

“Meeeee. Say, are you ticklish anywhere else? Gotta catalogue this for future use. Scream once for yes or twice for no.” Hangman tazes his sides and Bradley’s voice cracks around his laughter.

He’s going to die in this plane. He better die in this plane, otherwise he’s going to gut Hangman like a fish.

…No, he won’t.

Bradley manages to plant his hand square on Hangman’s face and start pushing, and the ultimatum between continuing the torment or falling onto concrete makes Hangman finally, blessedly let go.

“Seems like everything’s in order. Pleasant skies, Rooster.” Hangman pats his shoulder and hops down out of sight.

In his mind’s eye, he’s shaking Hangman by the shoulders until his brain falls out of his ears. In practice, he’s turning his burning face and shy half-smile back towards the controls with hopes of killing both.

…

“Mornin’, Bradshaw.” Hangman pops up like a gopher. Bradley jumps and nearly flips his lounge chair.

“Seresin.” He exhales tightly through his nose. He stays very still—maybe he can still salvage the last throes of the sun-warmed nap he was finding his way towards.

“You seem tense.” Hangman cocks his head in something that passes for concern. The rushing ocean suddenly sounds more like an omen.

“There’s no one else around for you to bother right now?” Bradley leans up on his elbows to search for the other Daggers. He can hear Fanboy laughing somewhere, he thinks, but Hangman’s giant head blotting out the sun is the only thing he can see.

“Nope!” Hangman makes a big show of cracking his knuckles and stretching his fingers. Bradley’s eyes widen.

“Don’t you dare.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Don’t what?” The expression that Hangman generates overshoots innocence by a country mile.

“Tickle me, you asshole.” Bradley winds an arm around his torso and scrambles up in his lounge chair. The fluttery kick of anticipation slaps a smile straight across his face.

“I can’t believe you fell for that.”

“Fell for--”

Bradley pauses as it dawns on him. Watching it dawn on Hangman is worse--his entire face brightens with mischief.

Bradley starts stammering through a protest and giggling through another, but Hangman’s kneeling over him before any of it becomes coherent. He flails hard enough to send them both tumbling into the sand. Never in his life has he been more grateful to be alone, if only to keep the pitch of his laughter between him and the menace causing it.

He makes a note to keep his shirt on at the beach.

…

Maybe a week or so of this puts Bradley in a…strange headspace. Distracted.

Touch is nice, but there’s more of it lately, enough to make him notice and crave its absence in a way he hadn’t before. When Phoenix leans into his side or Fanboy claps his shoulder, he misses the warmth of their touch after. Even Hangman’s utter nonsense sets a gentle buzz into his chest. It’s dizzying.

He’s so lost in the ache of it that Mav catches on, and it kicks solidly into that tangle of ‘complicated shit’ between them that he keeps putting away for increasingly rainer days. He’d gotten so used to Mav tiptoeing around him as if he were fragile that the first gentle touch on the shoulder almost shatters him.

The Daggers meet for a barbecue at Mav’s and Bradley shows up early with a bottle of Ice’s favorite Pinot. Things may be complicated, but the mushy smiles on Ice and Mav’s faces are not. It’s nice, putting ‘complicated’ in motion towards being something else. Something lighter.

Later into the night, Bradley’s got his feet kicked up on the couch in the hangar and the radio crooning slowly in his ear.

He watches Mav and Ice dance--more of a sway, really, as they banter. Mav’s got a playful tilt to his smile, one that suggests he’s being as much a menace as he’s visibly in love. Bradley smiles and hums along, halfheartedly wondering what Mav might be pestering Ice with.

“This seat taken?” Not waiting for an answer, Hangman picks up his ankles and takes their spot. Bradley brings his heels down hard on his thigh. He gets a swat on the ankle for his trouble. Still, the weight of Hangman’s arm on his legs is comforting. Solid.

A room full of people to bother, yet Hangman finds him. Hm.

“Why’re you so obsessed with me lately?” Bradley nudges him with his ankle. Hangman’s eyebrows raise.

Well. He’d meant to say that with a bit more tact but it’s out there now, between them.

Hangman snorts softly and passes Bradley a beer. He pops the caps on both and pockets them. Probably donations for Coyote’s collection.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Bradshaw.” Hangman gives him an utterly complex and unreadable look before taking a swig of his beer. ‘Complex’ and ‘unreadable’ are not words that belong anywhere near him.

“You didn’t answer the question.” Bradley frowns.

“It’s a stupid question.”

“Seresin.” Bradley leans forward to smack his shoulder.

“Alright, fine.” Hangman exhales tightly. “You’ve been moping around like a dark fuckin’ cloud these past few weeks and we couldn’t figure out how to get you out of it. We ran out of ideas and eventually Mav realized he couldn’t hide from us anymore, so he coughed up a solution. Something he said we could try, and I quote, ‘at risk of your lives’. Never thought he’d suggest tickling, but--”

“You went to Mav?”

“Yeah, and Mav—“ Hangman imitates the way Bradley’s voice cracks— “told Phoenix to try it if all else failed, she told Bob, Bob told me, and now we’re here. And it worked.”

Bradley’s brain stalls out. He sits up, bracing his elbows on his knees. He drops his face into his hands.

“Oh my god. So everyone knows?” He peeks through his fingers. Hangman shrugs.

“Well, I don’t think Fanboy was paying much attention.” He scratches idly at his jaw.

“Mav said if all else failed. I didn’t—you guys didn’t try anything else.” Bradley fiddles with the label on the bottle.

Hangman raises his eyebrow in the precise shape of ‘oh really?’.

“Remember when Bob tried to buy you soup? Or when Payback made a fool of himself trying to sing Great Balls of Fire? Or when Fanboy tried to introduce you to Star Trek? Or—“

Oh.

For maybe the only time in his life, Hangman snaps his jaw shut. Bradley furrows his brow.

“Look…point is, you keep making that exact face you’ve got right now, and concerned parties asked me to investigate.” Hangman swirls his finger around Bradley’s face. He swats it away on habit, but fondness bubbles in the base of his throat.

“Concerned parties?” A smile sneaks under his mustache.

“Yeah, Phoenix and the rest of them were worried. Not me though.” Hangman takes a long, incriminating swig from his bottle.

“Not you?” Bradley tilts his head teasingly.

“Nope. I’m a neutral party. Like Sweden.”

“It’s Switzerland, dumbass.” Bradley knocks shoulders with him. Something about Hangman’s smile tells him he already knew that.

“Sure. Whatever.” Hangman throws his arm across the back of the couch. His fingers brush Bradley’s arm. The fondness settles into a resonant hum deep in Bradley’s chest.

“You’ve got your shit with Mav and your past. I get it. But some of us would like to see you smile more than twice a week.” Hangman gestures with his bottle. His movements are loose in the practiced Seresin way, but the care on his face is stunningly plain.

“Some of us?” Bradley grins. Hangman narrows his eyes.

“Concerned parties.” His cheeks grow rosy even as he scowls.

“You are obsessed with me and I’m telling Phoenix.” Bradley pats his shoulder and makes a break for it. A fist grabs a handful of his collar.

“Like hell you are!”

The (thankfully empty) bottles clatter to the floor as Hangman wrestles an already-laughing Bradley back down to the couch. He tries not to think too hard about hearing Mav cheer in the background.

…

Bradley does not start fights. He does not. He finishes them.

He slips past Phoenix and Bob, nodding in passing, and ducks up to Hangman’s Super Hornet. He can feel their eyes on him--especially Bob, he’s got a killer stare for someone so quiet--but he ignores it.

It’s not a fight, not really, but if he thinks about what he’s doing too hard he’s going to lock himself in a supply closet somewhere.

Bradley hops up the steps alongside the cockpit.

“Rooster! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your ugly mug?” Hangman grins and bats his eyelashes.

“I heard you were challenging Mav. Wanted to get a good look at you before you spend the rest of the evening with your face to the tarmac.” Rooster holds up his fingers like a picture frame.

“Try not to miss me too much.” Hangman winks, insufferable as always.

“Miss you? Every second you’re not buzzing around down here is a second of peace.” Bradley reaches up and knocks on his helmet.

“Would you kindly get the fuck off my plane?” Hangman swats lazily at him. Bradley bats his hands away.

“Before you go, just thought I’d see how your pre-flight checks are going?”

Hangman goes rigid. Bradley grins evilly at him.

“Bradshaw, don’t you fuckin’—“

Bradley fumbles with Hangman’s hands and flight equipment until he can jam his fingers right into the soft parts of his side. Hangman yelps and nearly jumps out of his skin. The seatbelts ensure there’s nowhere for him to go, and the clacking of the buckles only spurs Bradley on.

“I thought you’d put up more of a fight than this, Hangman.” Bradley tuts and shakes his head, worming his fingers up under straps to get at his ribs. Hangman well and truly shrieks.

“I am g-going to kill you!” Hangman shakes with the force of his laughter, folded awkwardly into his seatbelts. He shoves uselessly at Bradley’s chest.

“And I’m never gonna let this go. Think I could get you to do that again, or are you a one hit wonder?” Bradley squeezes quickly at Hangman’s thigh. His hands slap down hard on top of Bradley’s and he starts cackling his way to incoherency.

Bradley raises his eyebrow and times the squeezes to every escape attempt. It’s incredibly entertaining to listen to Hangman reinvent the squeal. He wonders if the other Daggers know about this yet.

The sound of a throat clearing nearly sends Bradley toppling backwards off the plane. Strong hands heave him upright and he turns--Maverick’s eyes crinkle around the edges of his sunglasses.

“Appreciate you getting a head start on destroying him, Rooster, but I believe that’s my job.” Mav pats him on the shoulder. Bradley goes to duck away, but Hangman makes a swipe for his sides, and he can’t let that stand. He leans back into the cockpit and tickles Hangman’s ribs until he’s screeching between hiccups and an interesting shade of red.

“Aren’t you ssssupposed to help me?” Hangman crumples in around Bradley’s hands, wriggling like a worm on a hook.

“Help you? No. Teach you? Sure. Wheels up in two minutes. Hopefully you’ll learn a thing or two about getting your ass handed to you.” Mav pulls Bradley back by the shoulder. He lets it happen. Hangman thunks his head back against his seat, chest heaving.

“Bold words, Pops. We’ll see who comes out on top.” He clicks his tongue and winks. Insufferable bastard.

“See you in the skies, Hangman.” Mav pokes Hangman’s stomach.

…

The lounge at Top Gun hums with quiet chatter through the evening as the Daggers share drinks. Bradley’s tucked against the wall with Phoenix and Bob under his arms. He’s half watching Fanboy and Payback fumble through a game of pool, half listening to a story Phoenix is telling, and fully content to lose himself in the sound of her voice.

The door slams open, welcoming a sweaty and disgruntled Hangman to the room. Scattered laughter and teasing applause kicks up among the other Daggers. He gives the entire room the finger.

“Yeah, laugh it up. I was off my game.” He pushes his hair out of his eyes. Coyote offers him a pity beer. He takes it.

“I wonder why.” Bradley chuckles. Phoenix swats his chest. Hangman locks eyes with him, absolutely feral. Bradley goes to make a run for it, but Phoenix hooks her arms under his. He could break her grip if he really tried, but…

When Hangman barrels towards him and tackles him over the back of the couch, Bradley can’t say he doesn’t deserve it.

#ok this was supposed to be mostly lee!hangman but i started thinking about bradley and blacked out #hope you still like it tho!! hangman still gets got as he should #idc if you tag this as ship btw #background icemav bc they are married #special thanks to chock who reminded me that writing is fun and i like to do it <3 #my fics #top gun maverick #ticklish!rooster #ticklish!hangman #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #jake 'hangman' seresin #not tagging the other daggers they're barely here <3 #idk how I feel about this fic still but it was fun to write

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