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mqverick · 5 months

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Walking On Air || chapter 8

Normally, you always had been fond of spending Friday nights in Miramar at the O Club, dancing and drinking carelessly with your friends and boyfriend. That specific night, you wished someone would be drunk enough to stab you with a beer bottle and save you from the dreadful consequences of coming face to face with Pete.

You’d almost confessed your feelings to him, just a couple of hours ago — not even a full day had passed. For a moment, you considered acting by heart and not by mind, giving in to the emotion. You were helplessly hanging on to the thin threads of your remaining patience and loyalty to your very much already existing relationship.

Things were turbulent, but that wasn’t news.

The bar was crowded, just like always, some upbeat music faintly playing in the background as laughs and conversations overshadowed it, pilots reuniting with their girlfriends and wives for a fun night, Goose getting sturdy on the dance floor, lights bright enough to blind half of the world population.

And there he was. Surrounded by a swarm of young women swooning over him, smiling stupidly at the lame jokes he’d made up just for you — had you been his. The setting bothered you, an irritating feeling bubbling up in your stomach as you slouched down on the bar counter, giving your stool a little swirl. You half-heartedly took a sip from your beer, waiting for Tom to finish his rather amusing conversation with Slider and pay some attention to you that could be used to get Maverick off your mind.

The room was filled with people, but all you could see was him. For a short-lived second, your eyes met across the room, a silent talk passing between you, but as you began to gather the courage and make your way over to his table, a blonde woman stepped in, sweeping him onto the dance floor. Your heart sank, but you couldn't look away from the pair, wishing it could be you.

“Ice, wanna dance?” you spoke suddenly, interrupting what Slider was talking about. Tom gave you a sweet smile and excused himself, taking your hand and leading you in the middle of the floor. The music had switched to a soft, slow rhythm, which allowed you to place your chin on Tom’s shoulder while hugging him and moving. Your eyes were undoubtedly fixed on Maverick and that woman, however, the feel of a thousand knives tearing your heartstrings down, as you came across his diamond-bright smile.

His gaze accidentally traveled to you, face dropping the same way it happened with you earlier. You refused to show how weak you were, putting on a façade, even though the glimmer of your pupils spoke in hushed whisper. It always seemed to be that way with him; a compliment here, a tease there, a shared laugh, a shared silence. It was your very own private dance.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” you heard Tom whisper in your ear. You pulled away from the embrace and lovingly looked into his eyes as if you hadn’t been fantasising about the guy whose guts he passionately hated just a hot second ago.

“How about we do some shots, Ice? I want to have fun tonight,” you lied. The shots were in need to forgive and forget. He was hesitant to the suggestion, which you found off-putting and opted for the second best option to get a hangover from. Nick Bradshaw.

You spotted him lazily twirling his index finger around the head of the beer bottle in his hand, looking quite tipsy already. You approached him warmly with a hug and sat down next to him and requested a shot of afterburners, all while trying to erase Maverick from your brain — which was frankly impossible, seeing as he was mostly the reason why you yearned to get more alcohol in your system.

“Celebrating any special occasion, Roger?” Goose questioned after doing a shot, wincing as the drink burned down his throat.

“Your friend,” you replied shortly, entering the sharp liquid in your mouth.

“What’d he do this time?”

You sighed, going in for the second shot. “He’s being a brat, but then again, when isn’t he?”

“Gonna need you to be more specific than just the, Rog, you said it yourself; he’s got no limits to being a tad irresponsible.”

“I think he’s about to screw everyone with flesh and bones at this bar. And for fuck’s sake, how is every woman here attracted to him and him only? There are other men.”

“Ah,” Goose exclaimed knowingly with a smirk. “It’s all clear now. It’s bothering you watching Mav’s charm unleash on the female population.”

“Right,” you scoffed in frustration, embarrassed by how transparent your suppressed jealousy was. Your stomach was in knots, palms sweaty and warm as the booze poured into your brain.

“You know, Maverick really does like you. He’s just got a bad way of showing it,” Goose insisted, trying to ease you back from the drinks, but the rapid movement of your hand grabbing the glasses prevented him from being successful, so instead, he opted to let you keep going. “I’ve told you before and I’m telling you again now; words are his weak spot. He excels in action though, I’ve watched the guy make women swoon just by looking towards their direction. He’s a natural.”

“Your point being?” you rushed him, irritated.

“My point being that even though Maverick is head over heels for you, he still remains a single man, whereas you’ve got Kazansky.”

You glared harshly at Goose, even thought everything he’d just said made perfect sense. Who were you to be mad at a single man for flirting after you’d repeatedly shot him down? Were you expecting him to wait for you forever? The silence from your side betrayed your feelings to Goose, who wasn’t surprised at the slightest. You drunkenly slid off your seat, tripping on the toe box of your high heels and almost falling flat on your face, which you apparently found amusing as you giggled, looking around in the crowd. Your eyes caught him sipping out of a beer bottle in a corner — at last, without a stupid chick invading a bit too much of his personal space for your liking — and you lazily dilly-dallied your feet to his spot, feeling newfound boldness in your body as the previous, uncontrollable consumption of alcohol was put into test.

“Heeey,” you chirped, dragging out the ‘e’, Maverick looked taken aback to see you, but not missing a second to give you one of his very Maverick toothy grins. His fragrance danced around your nostrils, the scent of cheap beer mixing in as your senses tried to process how on earth it was possible for a man to smell so good.

“Are you drunk?” was the first thing that popped out his mouth, making you laugh humourlessly.

“What, no lines today? Wasted them all in those girls that seemed to take quite an interest in you earlier?” Oh, god, it was already getting messed up. You needed to respectfully back out of the conversation or simply run the fuck away.

“What?”

You chuckled, biting your bottom lip as you took him in with your eyes, admiring the white uniform on his frame, ocean eyes glowing under the club lights. His hair was slightly ruffled — you prayed not from a shag — and all you wanted to do was drag him in the restroom, jump on the counter and wrap your legs around his waist, to get to see what the fuss was all about.

“Are you avoiding me today, Pete?”

You didn’t mean for the question to come out so sensual.

“You have been drinking, then.”

Truth was, he had in fact been avoiding you, though. It killed him watching you distance yourself from him every time you formed a deeper connection and it was certain that with the help of booze and the whole bar vibe, something similar would occur again — and the just couldn’t bring himself to have you slip right through his fingers for once more. So he tried to stay away, just for that night, save some pain.

Your heart started to hammer against your ribcage as you took a step closer to him, noticing his Adam’s Apple bob. It dazzled you how insanely attractive his body’s responses were.

You lifted your stare up on his eyes once more, getting lost in them as you bit the inside of your cheek, holding back the urge to gently place your hand against his cheek, curious as to how soft it’d feel. He must had noticed that you’d been eyeing him up instead of talking to him, brow slightly cocking as he shifted just a tad with a suggestive smirk on his face.

“What?” he asked again, looking down at himself.

“Noth’n,” you mumbled, blushing and hoping the lighting wouldn’t give it away. “Having fun?”

“Now that you’re here, yeah.”

You chuckled ironically, shaking your head in disbelief at how incredibly, stupidly cheesy he was, as if he hadn’t been shooting the same lines with someone else earlier (you could bet it was the blonde with the blue eyes — you knew it).

“Goose says you like me.” You watched him tense at your choice of statement — only momentarily though — returning to his beloved cocky persona in a matter of seconds as he nodded with a grin. His face dropped when you mouthed that you disagreed with his RIO’s point of view. “I just don’t really believe him, you know? I don’t think you go around flirting with other women when your mind is supposedly set on one person.”

Maverick sighed, hands coming up on his sides.

“That’s not fair, Roger.”

“Oh, it’s not? My bad,” you giggled, running a hand through your hair as you furrowed your eyebrows in consideration. “You want to know what’s not fair, Pete? Not fair is being unable to bare the night without alcohol because someone decided they want to get laid by a random bimbo. Not fair is having to constantly doubt whether you actually fucking like me or just want to get into my pants. Is that it, Pete? Do you want a blowjob? Go for a quickie in the broom closet, perhaps? Will that get some steam out of your system?” You didn’t really understand when the wasted in you transformed into livid hammered, but it felt as if someone had cut your breaks, kept you yapping on and on. “It’s not fucking fair of you to just swoop in my perfectly functional relationship and blow it to shit.”

It wasn’t all Maverick’s fault, though. After all, it did take two people to fall in love. You could’ve just shut him off, pay no attention to him, had he not caught your eye even since day one, with all the characteristics about him that made him Maverick and not Pete Mitchell. You were falling so hard and quickly in love with him that it consumed you, had you in a whirlwind.

When you gathered the courage to quit daydreaming and focus on his reaction, you realized he looked a mix of hurt and mad.

“You know, you can’t just decide how I get to feel about you.”

“Yeah? Then how do you feel about me, since it’s so much more than sex? Prove me the fuck wrong, Pete Mitchell, show me!” you urged, pretty sure loudly enough to earn a few stares from the people close to the two of you.

“I can’t fucking do that, you have a boyfriend!”

“When have you ever legged it because of that?”

“Since you permanently became the only fucking thing I can ever think about!”

You’d lost the plot; mind foggy, incapable of making the right choices, whether that referenced to words or actions. Due to the dizziness, you took a second to process the fact that Maverick had just come a step closer to silently yelling to you he was as much bonkers about you as you were for him. Very irrationally and without considering it too much, you glared at him, eyes burning through his scalp, muscles tightened, setting your jaw as you raised your hands, causing the pilot before you to flinch in dread of getting slapped, but instead firmly cupped his cheeks and pulled him in, feeling his hot breath in puffs against your very welcoming lips. You were almost there; about to finally kiss him, but pulled back with force rather abruptly.

His eyes were closed from being so caught up in the idea of getting to taste a cocktail of the alcoholic beverages you’d been gobbling all night on your lips — he barely even noticed you’d shoved him away from you and were stomping away once again, fists clenched to your sides without giving him a word. He huffed in disbelief, unaware of how you always managed to do a runner.

You, on the other hand, suddenly made a turn of mind and began batting your eyelashes to a very clueless as to what had happened Tom Kazansky, determined to not let Maverick have it, not again, you were stronger than that. Hilarious, your inner conscience chuckled, as if you weren’t about to fuck it all and let Pete take you senseless on a sodding public bathroom’s counter.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whispered, clenching your eyelids shut. “Fucking shut the fuck up.”

“What’s that?” Tom asked, unable to hear what you’d muttered through the blasting music.

“We should head back home,” you lied with a raised voice, grimacing suggestively. You wished the rest of the night could’ve been like when u and him first started dating; passionate and full of mutual love. Except all you could picture as you seated yourself on top of him, throwing your hair off your shoulders and turning the light switch off to enrich your imagination, as you closed your eyes and let your mind work its magic, was Maverick.

Maverick, Maverick, Maverick.

Maverick and how you’d basically confessed to him. How you’d been just an inch away from devouring his heavenly-looking mouth.

Maverick and how he’d permanently became the only fucking thing you could ever think about, too.

chapter 9

tags:

@holishol

@iheqrtaustin

@cinnamoncaramelapples

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mesmir-ized · 10 months

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#tatsuya suou #nyarlathotep #persona 2 #p2 #eternal punishment #mir.art #strong language

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lindtluirae · 9 months

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SunaOsa 🔞 | Primal Urges | rated E

The way Suna wants Osamu is feral.

It’s visceral, dirty. It’s not enough to fuck his cock into all of Osamu’s holes, he wants to devour him, to bury his face between his asscheeks, to lick and suck at it, to taste his musk as his tongue thrusts into him; as his fingers join to spread him open; as his other hand greedily jerks him.

He can’t seem to get enough, to taste enough, to wreck him enough.

Sometimes Suna buries his face in Osamu’s crotch just to feel his heavy cock on his face, to nuzzle it, to get drunk on the hot smell saturating Osamu’s briefs.

It’s not enough to pull and claw and bite into his pretty skin, to suck his delicate pink nipples raw. It’s not enough to fuck his mouth until Osamu gags, anticipating and needing to see the way his eyes water and overflow, the way he surrenders with a fucked out expression and just allows Suna to use him.

Nothing feels as satisfying as painting his face with Suna’s cum, or making Osamu lick it off Suna’s cock and swallow all of it. Nothing makes him burn more than using his fingers to push it back into Osamu’s burning body, to plug him up, to send him to work with his ass full of Suna’s seed, only to wait for Osamu to return to fuck another load into him.

If Osamu had a womb, Suna would have fucked a baby into him by now.

He sears his handprints into his ass, and pulls at his hair until Osamu’s eyes roll back—and the best part? The best part is how much Osamu needs it, how he begs for it.

The way he craves being railed to within an inch of his life like a cockslut who can’t get enough.

“Look at you,” Suna growls as Osamu shakes with the vibrations rocketing through him. His thighs are spread obscenely wide as he balances precariously on his trembling knees.

He strains to keep himself upright, the red rope standing out starkly over his lightly tanned skin, framing his tits so prettily.

Suna’s camera captures all of it on video; Osamu’s desperate, hot huffs of air. His trembling torso, his eyes lowered as he submits to his pleasure and gyrates his hips shamelessly.

He makes the sweetest noises; grunting as his hips jerk forward in an obscene imitation of fucking into a wet hole.

Yes, Suna thinks hazily. There it is. That hungry look. Osamu is right where he wants him.

Suna has filmed Osamu his entire life, yet, never like this.

His eyes stray to Osamu crotch again, to the way his cock threatens to spill out of the gaping waist of his unzipped pants. Suna holds his breath in anticipation as it kicks and and jolts.

“Does it feel good baby?” Suna’s voice is rough and low with arousal; it makes Osamu growl needly in his chest, his head falling back as a shudder works its way down his spine. “Just look at you… looking like a gift wrapped up so prettily for me.”

The blush in Osamu’s cheeks now burns in his ears, the sweetest of reds.

“Rin…” Osamu squeezes his eyes shut. He looks gone, his eyes already hazy and unfocused.

“You must be feeling so good,” Suna’s voice hitches, helplessly palming himself through his shorts. “Does it turn you on… knowing what I’m going to do with this?”

“Nghhh,” Osamu strains, panting.

Suna looms over him, using his fingers to part Osamu’s lips, to stroke them against his slick tongue. Osamu is so gone that all he can manage is to lick lazily between Suna’s finger, tasting his fingertips.

He’s sideblinded by how much he wants.

He withdraws his fingers, tipping Osamu’s chin up. He barely cares for the camera angle as he gives in to a rare, depraved urge, swiping his thumb over Osamu’s slick lips as he spits in his mouth.

Osamu moans, low and throaty, as Suna’s fingers slide in again to spread his taste over Osamu’s tastebuds. “Mine,” he growls lowly, before searing his lips on Osamu’s slack, gaping mouth.

He kisses him so deeply that he loses track of where either of them begins and ends. There’s only the primal need to devour, to take, take and take.

Osamu’s body and pleasure, and noises, are his.

It burns so wildly in his loins that he can no longer contain himself.

Suna withdraws his fingers again, this time to fumble with the waist of his shorts.

Osamu makes a raw noise, moving closer to sink his teeth in the fabric and yank it down.

It scalds, to want this much.

“Fuck,” he hisses, tangling his fingers in Osamu’s hair. “You want it that badly, baby?”

He lets Osamu slide his mouth over his clothed shaft, leaving damp spots behind as he emits hungry noises that set Suna aflame.

It’s dangerous, he thinks hazily, the way they desire each other.

Because the next thing he knows, he’s yanking his shorts down to push Osamu’s head against his crotch, and Osamu is swallowing him with hunger, taking all of him until his nose presses into Suna’s pelvis.

“Fuck,” Suna growls again, snapping his hips.

Osamu chokes, but doesn’t stop Suna.

He slackens his jaw, relaxing his throat, and looks up at Suna with such a raw, desperate expression that it punches the air out of him. “Shit, you want it so badly,” Suna rasps shakily, overcome by the needy look in Osamu’s eyes, and starts thrusting his hips.

Schlick, schlick, schlick, schlick…

Suna can’t breathe, watching the way tears drip down Osamu’s cheeks in the preview of his camera.

He draws back with a slick gasp to give Osamu a moment to suck in a breath, only to push Osamu’s head into his crotch again and hold it there.

Osamu gags, his throat constricting around Suna until Suna lets him go to see the way he’s rendered him into a mess. Osamu’s chin is slick, drool coating Suna’s cock to the hilt.

Shit, he can’t get enough. He buries himself down Osamu’s throat again, thrusting hard, drinking in the sight of Osamu’s steel grey eyes clouded over by the haze of arousal and tears.

He looks as gone as Suna feels, muffling moans in Suna’s crotch, gyrating his hips with desperation.

With a start, Suna realises Osamu is coming.

He draws back to watch it happen, Osamu throwing his head back and wailing. It’s the most beautiful thing Suna has ever seen.

Shaking, he throws his camera aside to sink to his knees and yank Osamu’s pants off. In the next second, he has Osamu in his mouth, prolonging his high as he cleans him up.

It’s too much, it’s too much.

Feeling half crazed, he hauls Osamu around, pushing his face into the plush carpet as he yanks his pants beneath his ass, and plucks out the vibrator to toss aside.

Suna holds his hips, parts his cheeks, and buries his tongue between them.

Osamu’s entire body jerks, gasping out a moan as Suna fucks his tongue into him until both he and Osamu are shaking.

He’s hanging onto the edge with his fingernails when he draws back to grab his abandoned camera. He lines the tip with Osamu’s puckered hole, jerking himself in short, desperate strokes.

Suna’s head falls back with a throaty groan as he spills inside Osamu, and listens to him muffle his moans into the carpet.

It’s dangerous, he thinks again, the way Osamu makes him feral.

But Suna knows that he, just as much, brings out a side of Osamu that’s just as desperate to take apart every piece of Suna.

#sunaosa #spicy #haikyuu #cw: slight degradation #dom!suna/sub!osamu #rough and dirty #strong language #s*x tape #suna rintarou #miya osamu

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pan-magi · 7 months

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I've always thought that the rukh place someone where they're supposed to be when leaving a dungeon. When leaving Amon, Aladdin is left where he could meet the Kouga and Hakuei; Alibaba is where the dungeon used to be so it will be "official" that he captured it and be there to help clear Jamil's mess (mainly ensuring his slaves are free).

And Morgiana is right outside. I can't help but think that its because she could have the opportunity to just run. No one else was around so she could leave without being recaptured. It wouldn't be safe to be a Fanalis out alone with broken shackles at her feet (which tbf she could have gotten off easily enough). I don't think anyone could blame her if she decided to take the out and escape safely. Jamil went into the dungeon with all his combat ready slaves (I imagine). Most would have assumed, besides Alibaba and Aladdin who were there, that being unaccounted for meant she ended up dead like the rest. Chances are low that people will be searching for the lost Fanalis slave girl.

She could have taken the opportunity to finish escaping and find Alibaba and Aladdin again after being more secure in her freedom. Morgiana doesn't because she is processing wtf went on in the dungeon and her priority after sorting out her thoughts was to find the two guys that went through that shit with her and see that they are alright. I don't want to discount how admirable that is. But if she was left more confused and scared and just- left? More power to you girl, get the fuck away from your hellhole.

I dunno. Something I've been thinking about. Back to the original point, I do believe that she wasn't in Qishan with Alibaba because more than anything the rukh let her off somewhere that best guaranteed her freedom.

#don't mind me imagining an au where she was left farther away from the city and ran into mu and myron traveling #before meeting up with the boys again #magi #magi: the labyrinth of magic #magi labyrinth of magic #magi morgiana #includes photo edit #strong language #cw slavery #hey look a longer-ish post from me #i have a couple in the works #but idk the next best time i can work on them #may be the last of anything for a while #i hate moving so much ngl grrr

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violetmuses · 10 months

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I'm Starvin', Darling - Bucky Barnes (18+ MINORS DNI)

TITLE: “I'm Starvin’, Darling” - Bucky Barnes (18+ MINORS DNI)

FANDOM: Marvel’s “Falcon and The Winter Soldier”

CHARACTER: James “Bucky” Barnes

MAIN PAIRING: James “Bucky” Barnes + Female Reader

MAIN STORYLINE: In the middle of simply cooking, Bucky has “other plans” for you…

Author’s Note: Hey! As a warning, this One Shot includes SMUT content. (18+ Minors DNI) Adult themes, strong language, etc. Thanks so much for reading and feedback would be greatly appreciated. - V. 💜

@targaryenvampireslayer @jobean12-blog @buckyismybicycle

Main Masterlist

_________

2024

“It smells good in here, Bucky. Did Sam or Sarah sit down and finally teach you how to cook?” You offer a joke for this kitchen not long after coming home from work, seeing Bucky at the stove.

“Very funny, and to think I made your favorite.” Bucky turns around and slyly angles the spoon for you to try some, mentioning dinner tonight.

“Not bad.” You say, quietly teasing him as he sets down the spoon and cuts off the stove. Now, he’s already plating this meal for each of you.

“Hold on.” Bucky furrows his brow. Even his leftward metal arm whirs out loud and your own senses alert.

“What?” You ask.

“Maybe dinner could wait for a second.” Bucky sets down each plate on the table, but his crystal blue eyes keep peering towards you.

“Why?” You tilt your head, definitely curious.

Within moments, Bucky uses his strength to pull you inward, setting your chest against his shirt.

“Come on.” He then struggles while facing you, noting your beauty despite the mundane.

“Okay.” You nod wth consent and unconciously jump up, wrapping legs around his waist.

As Bucky's forehead lines up against yours, his breath slightly hitches, proving the clothed erection that grounds space between you both.

His lips meet yours, begging for release. He can’t take it, even though you’ve only been gone since earlier today.

You’ve shadowed with him near that back wall, leaving the plates cold. Tension shifts closer and closer towards this edge, standing on the brink of one absolute burst.

Holding the back of your head, Bucky moans into every kiss, still trying to make up for lost time.

In that same rush, Bucky and you found yourselves half-naked from the waist down, but neither of you care. It’s your house, after all.

“I love you…” His New York accent whispers towards the crook of your neck, leaving more and more kisses as Bucky lines up your entrance.

“I love you, too….Please.” You beg once more, hoping that he goes in much sooner than later.

“Ready?” Bucky questions you and sets back your hair, making complete eye contact as his own form of reassurance.

“Yes.” You nod while looking into his gorgeous blue eyes, no doubt sure in the name of consent.

Holding you even tighter, his leftward metal arm whirs again, promising that clutch as he plunges inside of you.

Both of you shutter, hissing and nearly shouting towards the ceiling found overhead. Nothing short of ecstasy runs through you.

“Fuck.” Bucky curses, but you don’t care, only turned on even further as he lifts you up. His movements heighten the way that you almost ride him now.

You can barely speak, only calling out his nickname or mewling. Even tears reach your eyes without sadness.

Bucky looks so good, hazing and enamored by you during each thrust.

“Mm….” You still can’t form true sentences. He’s sweating right through the shirt, but you can’t help staring down, realizing just how full you are because of him.

“Shit I’m gonna….” Bucky cautions, slack jawed because of how tight you feel while clenching around him.

Oh, my…” You nearly screamed, still taking everything. He spills just moments later, warming up the lowered space found between your bodies.

“Don’t move.” Bucky’s New York accent, now hoarse, settles down as he sets back your hair agian, prompting more eye contact and still resting inside of you.

“No dinner?” You ask, trying to face Bucky through moonlight that casts from the nearst kitchen window.

“I’ll warm up the plates. Deal?” Amused for now, Bucky kisses you, smiling against your lips.

“Deal.” You vow right back.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon #mcu #sebastian stan #smut warning #adult themes #strong language #minors dni #minors do not interact #18+ only #marvel

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