Tumgik
#mm imagine
mxsonxmountx · 1 year
Text
Mason Mount AU: Flirty in the comments
Tumblr media
Youruser: monthly photo dump darlings x
Masonmountpriv: can you do hard things? Because if so, you can do me
↪️is that how you win over the ladies mase, try harder x
reecejames: …..
thiagosilva: the boy is trying to win her over, and this is the things he says… you need help 🤣😭
jazbenham: oh dear, oh dear, oh dear
masonmountpriv: leave me alone I thought it was good okay 😭
rlc: mason!!!!!!
Masonmountpriv: I wish I was your mirror, so I can look at you every morning
↪️this was terrible, but you’re slowly improving… somehow
Woody: I can’t believe you used this one… I told you not too
declanrice: just please stop, this is embarrassing but also highly amusing to watch you fail. youruser, sorry about him
↪️it’s okay dec, I’ve had worse, bless the poor boy
Masonmountpriv: people call me money mase on the pitch, but you can call me yours
↪️okay, this is better… not massively but, better
kepaarrizabalaga: now this is okay, mason, you are improving. We like to see it
jazbenham: this has to be the best one you’ve used
youruser: masonmountpriv how about a date?
↪️masonmountpriv: IT WORKED!
↪️I’m only doing it because I feel sorry for you
↪️masonmountpriv: you do it out of pity, although we know that you won’t be going home alone after
↪️jazbenham: MASON
↪️declanrice: oh dear
Tumblr media
Liked by: youruser: declanrice, woody and 147,809 others.
masonmount: Monthly mount photo dump darlings x
youruser: so not only have you flirted your way in my post, you now steal my caption…
↪️stealing it, like how I’m going to steal your heart soon
↪️youruser: oh you can try mount, you can try
woody: swear I’ve seen that caption before
↪️youruser: oh I’m glad I’m not the only one who noticed
youruser: shame you couldn’t be original x
reecejames: I’m sick of this, can you hurry up and just date already
↪️kepaarrizabalaga: I second this
↪️Benchilwell: I third this
↪️declanrice: the boy doesn’t stop
kaihavertz29: bro this is too much, we can’t deal with it anymore. Just date already
↪️masonmount: she’s playing hard to get
↪️youruser: you use shit chat up lines
↪️kaihavertz29: oh doesnt he just
448 notes · View notes
High on that Vought BS
Tumblr media
Pairing: The Boys x Reader (all platonic)
Warnings: Strong language.
Summary: The Boys attempt to tangle you in their mess once again.
You opened the door, ready to grab the pizza boxes and shove a hefty tip in the delivery persons hand when you found yourself staring into the face of an old acquaintance. He also happened to be holding your pizza order.
“This is has got to be a nightmare.” You said as Billy Butcher made his entrance into your home with a younger looking kid trailing behind.
“No, Y/n. We’re about to start some fucking nightmares.”
Locking the door shut, you pulled down the curtains in the living room before dashing around to other areas of your house to lock it down. When you returned, you found Butcher admiring the tealight candles on the fireplace mantle.
“What are you doing here? We had an agreement.”
Butcher nodded, “We did - but if I recall correctly, you didn’t want to see my ugly mug until I had something concrete. Well, now I do.”
“Oh my god.” Your eyes widened. “You’re high on that Vought bullshit again, aren’t you?”
“It’s not bullshit, we can take ‘em down.” Butcher rolled his eyes, tired of not being believed in.
“We?”
Two sets of footsteps descended down the stairs and you jumped around only to find more familiar faces. Whipping back around, you glared at Butcher.
“Are you serious? You brought Frenchie and MM into this again? For fuck sake.”
Butcher merely shrugged like it wasn’t anything. His nonchalant behaviour had you ready to tear him into shreds, and you stepped in his direction only to be distracted by MM.
“Hey, it’s alright. We chose to be here.” He insisted and calmed his friend down. Flashing a kind smile, MM gave you a warm hug. “It’s good to see you again.”
MM stepped away and Frenchie took his place.
“Mon très cher ami.” The Frenchman grinned, his hug was so tight it felt like old times again.
Butcher smirked off to the side, “Now that we’re reacquainted, I’d like you to meet the newest addition - step up, Hughie, don’t be shy.”
The boy he arrived with made his presence known. You were so focused on the familiar faces that the kid practically blended into your home decor.
“Hi.” He greeted sheepishly, unsure of what to do with himself.
You glared at Butcher and he had an explanation prepped. “Don’t give me that look. Kid’s girlfriend was vertically split by that speedy fucker A-Train. So he’s very much ‘high on that Vought bullshit’.” He said casually and you noticed the pain on Hughie’s face. Clearly this was a recent incident.
“We need your help - specifically, your intel.”
Crossing your arms, you let out a laugh which took the others by surprise.
“Seriously? Did you think that a single nostalgic visit was going to be enough for me to just roll over?”
“The alternative was torturing you.” Butcher deadpanned.
MM shook his head instantly, “Nope, that was never an option.” He corrected and shot a look at Butcher who merely shrugged.
Butcher stepped forward, “Come on, Y/n. You’re the best person we know who can dig up dirt on the Seven’s weaknesses. Like that almond allergy for Black Noir that you released to the world? That was amazing. His haters were sending him almond scented fan mail for weeks. Fucker was confined to the tower medical bay for weeks.”
You stared at the men in your house. They had broken promises and laws in the span of ten minutes just to get help. You weren’t obligated to lift a finger… but that didn’t mean you weren’t curious to know what they had discovered.
“I’m not ‘joining the fun’ but I need to know what you know before I can offer anything of value.” You told them.
Butcher smirked. “You’re going to love this.”
Masterlist here
2K notes · View notes
romeulusroy · 1 year
Text
Imagine being a Supe and not having Marvin's trust:
Tumblr media
"You don't like me."
"I like you?" You huffed. He couldn't even manage a convincing sentiment. The little time you spent with Marvin was enough to tell you he didn't like or trust you. If you moved too fast, talked too loud, did anything but sit still and nod along with the rest of the group, he was ready to strike. You weren't scared of him. Your powers were enough to protect you, but that didn't mean it sat right with you. The rest of the group accepted you without hesitation. You didn't have to prove that you weren't the next Homelander, they could sense that. Not M.M. though. He was too hesitant, never wanting to be in the same room as you. Even now his eyes watched the doorway like he was looking for a way out, an escape route, as if you were that insufferable to be with.
"You're a terrible liar, you know that?" You laughed, wanting to come off as less hurt than you were. He didn't mean to be so cold, so off around you. Really, you weren't all that bad. You were a decent member of the group and you being a supe came in handy, but he couldn't forget the fact that he'd been hurt by supes before. They ruined his life, taking his family from him, his father. You wouldn't hurt a fly, you made sure he knew that, and he did, but that kind of hurt doesn't go away because of one good supe. He's seen you when you're fighting, how ruthless you can be. If that kind of anger were turned inwards, on The Boys, he wasn't sure he'd forgive himself for letting his guard down. He can't let himself do that.
"I, it's not you y/n, it's what you can do."
67 notes · View notes
mlmxreader · 1 year
Text
After All Is Said and Done | Mother's Milk x m!reader
anonymous asked: Hey Jack! Can you please write a Marvin Milk (MM) x m!reader with the prompts “i wish you would have stayed” and "You think we would've learned from the past" like, maybe they broke up a long time ago and then Billy tracked reader down to help with the soldier boy & homelander situation and Maybe Marvin and Reader rekindles their old romance?
summary: Butcher is a cruel man for bringing you back into the team, and although you know that you hurt the man you loved, you couldn't deny it - you still have some sort of feelings for him.
tws: swearing, mentions of smoking
support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy
Oh, Butcher was a fucking cunt and a half for pulling this stunt; you were happy, you had moved on from The Boys and you had had time to think it through, you never wanted to return. You had a good job, good friends, you didn't worry about Supes anymore, you were estranged from the man that you used to be; and Butcher went and fucked it all up.
You resented him. He had pulled you away from everything and everyone in your life, he had destroyed it and picked it apart and talked you back into his little group, and you resented him for it; you didn't want to be there, didn't want to be near him, but you couldn't bring yourself to run off. You couldn't, when you were sitting opposite a man you used to love so dearly.
Maybe if you turned back time, maybe if things had come out a different way, maybe if you didn't hurt him; maybe if you hadn't done and said what you did, then you wouldn't be looking at Marvin like it pained you. Like it was a sword in your chest. You didn't mean to hurt him, didn't mean to make him cry and to leave; but you couldn't turn back time, and you couldn't take back the way that you had hurt him.
Yet, Marvin didn't act any differently towards you; he still offered you his lap to rest your legs on, he still scratched that spot on your back that he remembered used to itch, he still made your coffee the way you liked it. He remembered what biscuits you liked and that you liked to have a cup of coffee with your morning cigarette; he remembered everything, and it pained you that he did.
The thing that hurt you most was that he even remembered that you used to love sitting down with him and watching nature documentaries, and from the second you had arrived, he always had one playing; like he was just waiting for you to sit next to him with your head on his shoulder and your arm around his waist. Your legs stretched out and using his soft skin to warm your hands when you dipped them under his shirt; it fucking killed you.
But you weren't there to rekindle a lost romance, you were there to do a job; you were Butcher's most trusted tracker, you could find a man quicker than anyone else, and he needed you. He needed you to find Soldier Boy and to keep tabs on Homelander; that's what you were there to do, hunched over your laptop all day and night.
When, at last, Butcher was around, he decided to take over watching the screen, and before you could head out, Marvin offered to go with you; you weren't strong enough to say no, to shake your head and tell him that you were just going to grab a cup of coffee and wander around for an hour to stretch your legs. So you shrugged, and you allowed him to go with you; Butcher and Frenchie's teasing comments didn't mean shit, you shrugged them off.
Marvin payed for the coffee, even when you said you would do it; something about him owing you for agreeing to rejoin the boys. You didn't pay much attention to it. Oh, but he looked so good.
That brown leather jacket, the Wu Tang Clan T-Shirt, the faded and scuffed jeans, the trainers with soft stains on the sides of the soles, the chain hanging around his neck; he smelled of coffee and freshly sawed timber, and his beard had recently been trimmed, all neat and tidy. You wanted to swoon, to let your legs go weak and break beneath you.
Just one look, and you forgot that you had ever hurt him in the first place; you couldn't resist him, you missed him more than you cared to think, you weren't strong enough to admit that you still felt for him. The dozens of apologies you had sent over the years, the hundreds of text threads, suddenly all meant nothing; you had hurt him, and even though he had accepted your apology and promised that you would always be friends, you knew there was never a chance of being together again.
Nudging you gently, Marvin raised a brow. "You're doing it again."
"What?"
"That thing where you're trying to hide that you're worried," he pointed out. How did he know you so well even after all the time away?
"I'm not worried about anything," you murmured, shaking your head.
He scoffed, daring to drape his arm across your shoulders and pull you into his side. He was so warm, his embrace so welcoming. "Please don't lie to me."
"I'm fine," you grumbled. "What's it to you, anyway? It's not like-"
"Because I'm a motherfucker with a heart," Marvin sighed. "And I do still care about you... and I wish you would have stayed."
"I couldn't," you shook your head. "I know I hurt you, Marv, but-"
"You didn't hurt me that much," he admitted. "But you didn't need to disappear... it just cut deep, our hearts were still fucking attached. Janine still asks about you, and Monique... hurt them like Hell that you left."
"I never meant to hurt them," you admitted, shaking your head.
"I know," he nodded slowly. "But it hurts."
"Yeah," you scoffed. "No kidding."
Of course it hurt. The empty feeling in your stomach, the tight knot in the middle of your throat slowly suffocating you, the gaping wound in your chest where your heart used to be; of course it hurt. But you had no right to feel pain, not when you were the one that had caused them so much more and when you were-
"But, they understood," Marvin told you quietly. "They miss you, though... so did I."
"You missed me?"
"Yeah," he nodded again, licking his lips. "I missed you... and I mean it - I still care."
You sighed, chewing at the inside of your lip, tugging at the soft and wet flesh as you started to taste the faintest prickle of copper on your tongue. "I'm so sorry I hurt you."
"It's water under the bridge," he shrugged. "You did what you had to, even if... fuck, even if I did want you to stay."
"What if I stay this time?" You asked quietly, nearly mumbling. "What if I stayed?"
"I'd be happy," he shrugged, pursing his lips for a moment, contemplating whether or not he wanted to say the things he should have before you left. To tell you one last time that he did love you, really.
Would he, though? Would he actually be happy if you decided to stay? Or would he just be waiting for you to hurt him again? Would he just be on edge, waiting for you to abandon him again?
Marvin tugged you a little closer, daring to gently run his hand up and down his arm the way that he always used to when he knew you were thinking too much. "You're doing it again."
"I just... you think we would've learned from the past."
"Nah," he chuckled. "Not much to learn from this time."
You huffed, chewing at the inside of your lip. "Marv... do you actually wanna give it a go?"
"Yeah... do you?"
"I'm not sure," you admitted, shaking your head. "Can we... can I think about it?"
"You got all the time in the world," he agreed. "I'll wait."
30 notes · View notes
excali8ur · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
When you meet your past lives but they're all ignoring you and freaking out over this one guy?
I've seen a few versions of this floating around with the different Leos and I wanted to have a go at doing one for Mikey. They're all collectively realising what a bus sized bullet they dodged by not ending up as messed up as Ronin
13K notes · View notes
ladysqueakinpip · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
what started as the desire to draw The Donnies in their Iconic Purple Jackets just devolved into Donnie's Bizarre Adventures
2K notes · View notes
missmonsters2 · 8 months
Text
Mirror, Mirror | One
Tumblr media
Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Summary: The thought of something more had never really crossed Wanda's mind when it came to you. Best friends for 10 years and there hasn't even been one instance of accidental sexual tension. You're her best friend, that's all—until someone points out that you obviously have a very specific type when it comes to dating.
Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.
*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*
Note: i'm back!!! Nothing like coming back and posting a mini series. Enjoy this superior trope. Updates will be on Tuesdays! As you can see, we're trying something new with explicit content lol 😬
Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘
Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3
Count: ~4.1k
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷
It's strange how sometimes a single sentence can change someone's entire life. 
Wanda's thought about what sentences could change her life—usually, they're morbid and depressing.
'You have cancer.'
'Someone you love has died horrifically in an accident.'
'Your cat actually finds living with you miserable and would prefer the dangers of living in the streets.'
Never in a million years would Wanda ever think it'd be, 'Hey, have you ever noticed how your best friend exclusively only dates girls who look like you?'
And don't get Wanda wrong. It wasn't a morbid or depressing change; it was just...a change. An irrevocable change because now, Wanda couldn't stop thinking about it or noticing it. 
This was all Steve's fault. 
Because if someone like Stupid Steve could notice something like that, it had to mean something, right? But as Wanda remembers about the past girls you've hooked up with and brought around, she doesn't know what to make of it.
A part of Wanda wishes she had never talked to Steve that night at the bar. 
"Where's Vis?" Steve asked, looking around.
"With Tony playing pool, I think," Wanda shrugged. She doesn't particularly keep track of where her on-and-off boyfriend goes. She thinks they might be on an off-period right now, anyway. 
"And where's—oh, nevermind, there she is," Steve started to say but cut off when they both saw you across the bar talking with the bartender, flirting over drinks—which were probably free if Wanda could guess. 
Wanda's slightly annoyed because it's been a long week without seeing you, and Wanda's been used to seeing you almost every day for the past several years of her life. But you've been gone on a work trip this week for a wedding shoot and only came home just a little after lunch and needed an immediate long nap before tonight's get-together. 
That meant Wanda was sorely missing out on best-friend time, and now you were off flirting shamelessly with the hot bartender. Wanda's rooting for you, make no mistake. The bartender is definitely easy on the eyes, luscious hair, and lips—something Wanda knows you're weak for. 
Plus, Wanda's worried you're not anywhere near getting close to settling down. She wants you to be in a happy, fulfilling relationship. But she supposes she's in no position to talk herself. 
Wanda loves Vision without a doubt, but their relationship is definitely chaotic, and Vision keeps pushing for something more serious now that they've been dating (sporadically) for a long time. She's been considering it in her downtime and thinks it might make sense as the next step.
Best friends do everything together, right? So, maybe if Wanda decided to take the next step in a serious relationship, you'd find someone to commit to seriously as well. 
Then, both of you could get married at the same time. Then, they could buy a house in the same neighborhood right next to each other. There'd be endless double dates and vacations together. Wanda wouldn't have to miss you.
But first, Wanda needed to regain lost best-friend time, one-on-one style.  
"Hey, you know what I just noticed?" Steve said, breaking Wanda's drifting thoughts. 
"What?"
"Bug—" 
Wanda makes a face at your nickname. Granted, it was Wanda's fault you ended up with it back in your first year of university. You never let her forget it, especially now that you're a professional photographer.
"—over there has a very specific type she goes after for girls," Steve mused, sipping his whiskey before continuing. "I mean, they always have green eyes and brunette—wait, that's not true. She had two red-headed girlfriends in our last year of university. They still had green eyes, though." 
"Oh," Wanda said, unsure what to say since she's never paid attention to the girls you were dating. On average, they were a brief fling, and only a few lasted longer than half a year. "I guess so?"
Wanda distantly thinks about how she dyed her hair auburn in her last year of university because she was looking for a change that year and Natasha was insistent that she'd look amazing. Wanda recalls you were a fan of the look.
"Yeah," Steve nodded along. "Ironically, they always look like you in some way. Check out that bartender now—long, wavy-haired brunette with green eyes. She's got thick, long lips and even does that dark eye-shadow makeup thingy like you."
Steve just laughed it off, finishing his drink, thinking nothing more of it before he started talking about Bucky.
But it was like something clicked into place in Wanda's brain. A daunting realization that she was wholly unprepared for and not equipped to do anything about. 
Wanda watched as the bartender clocked off for the night and dragged you into a corner booth, drinks in hand. It gave Wanda the perfect view that the bartender wore many rings just like she did. 
In the poor privacy of the dimly lit corner booth, there was a staunch and needy kiss from the two of you, and Wanda swallowed roughly. 
From here, if you were none the wiser, Wanda could be easily mistaken for the girl in the booth with you. 
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 
Sometimes, Wanda believes she's just being absolutely ridiculous. So what if you go after girls who share the same features as her? That didn't have to mean anything. You've always told Wanda she was beautiful, and it was perfect how you said it. 
It didn't feel insincere or creepy. It felt good to know her best friend thought she was absolutely gorgeous. But just because you thought she was beautiful doesn't mean you harbored secret feelings for her. 
You'd be insulted if you knew Wanda had ever thought that. She'd just be another one of those girls Wanda's seen you humble on multiple occasions when they found out you dated women, and they were worried you might have a crush on them. 
But then, Wanda couldn't stop thinking she actually might be one of those girls because then she'd think about if you didn't consider her like that, it wasn't about her looks but something about her personality that wasn't your type. 
And what could that be?
Wanda thought long and hard, trying to remember the girls you've introduced her to. 
Sometimes they were funny, and Wanda was funny. She made you laugh all the time. She specifically remembered one time in high school when she made you laugh so hard you peed your pants just a little. 
Sometimes they were intellectual, and while Wanda didn't have an IQ of 160, she did fairly well academically and was on the right track in her career. 
Sometimes they were charming, and Wanda was the type where she got more charming the more you got to know her. 
So, Wanda just doesn't understand. She's nowhere further with her thinking ever since this weird information has been bestowed upon her.
Maybe it all just means nothing. You just didn't feel that way about Wanda despite the type of girls you dated suggesting otherwise. You didn't need a reason for it, and maybe the fact you only felt friendship for her was the reason. 
"Wanna order pizza in tonight?"
Wanda turns her head from the tv and notices you've put your book down. "Hm, not really. We had pizza last week," Wanda shakes her head. 
"How about that Greek place that just opened up on Willington Ave?" You suggest. "Pretty sure I heard you grumbling about wanting Greek food earlier this week."
"I was not grumbling!" Wanda scoffs but smiles when you raise your eyebrow at her. "Okay, I was grumbling a little."
You snicker as you pull out your phone to order delivery. "Oh, sweet golden best friend of mine, whatever shall you do when you get married to Vis, who hates Greek food. Do I foresee a life of Greekless cuisine? Oh, the suffering you'll go through!"
"I don't need him to like it," Wanda slaps your arm, sticking her tongue out before she cuddles you. "I have you to eat it with."
You laugh unabashedly, a sound that Wanda's accustomed to hearing the joyful sound. "Better hope the person I marry also hates Greek cuisine. I don't know if I can live a life of eating double the Greek food. I love tzatziki sauce, but if I grow to hate it from eating it too much, I will make you suffer the consequences of that."
Your voice trails off as you focus on ordering food, unable to see the cogs in Wanda's head turning. 
It's all so easy. There's no tension, no electric vibes happening. Just best friends enjoying the banter and making plans to eat. 
It was all in Wanda's head, right? You're her best friend, so of course you'd know everything about her. 
The right type of friendship is fulfilling and soul-connecting, and that's what Wanda has with you. When you have a one-in-a-million connection like that, the line between friendship and romance is thin, isn't it?
Wanda hates Steve. She'd never think about this if it wasn't for Stupid Steve. She can hear his dumb laugh, blissfully ignorant about the observation bomb he dropped upon her. 
"Do you wanna get ice cream after?" You ask, throwing your phone to the side. "I'll even treat you to the gelato despite knowing I'm going to suffer through your crazy farts later."
"Oh my god, I'm going to trap you under the blanket with it just for that!" 
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 
Within two months, Wanda forgets about it. Forgets, as in that she decides to drop it (let it linger in the deep depths of her brain that she refuses to acknowledge), and resolves that Steve has no brain cells and has no idea what he's saying. 
"Have you seen my strapless black top?" Wanda shouts from her room with the door open. "The one with the v-shaped front!"
"In your closet!" You yelled back from the living room, not taking your eyes off your phone. 
"I can't find it," Wanda whines, and she hears you sigh as you get up. The footsteps approach her room, and she finds you standing at the door with an unimpressed look.
"I don't want to hear it," Wanda sniffs. 
"Hear what, brat?" You say with a brow raised before you start rummaging through her closet. The nickname was a joke you started that Wanda was entirely a spoiled person, exhibiting bratty behavior at times. "That I'm not gonna be your roommate forever, so you need to learn to fold it yourself before putting it away?"
Wanda makes grumbling noises that are mostly nonsensical but smiles when you pull out the top she was looking for. 
"You are the apple of my eye, stinky," Wanda grabs the top from you before she runs into her washroom to briefly change into it. 
"A match made in heaven, yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes with good humor. "Hurry up, Natasha will kill us if we're late for Yelena's birthday. They're on an upwards mend in their relationship, so she's been so unbearably uptight lately to make sure nothing goes wrong."
"I know, I know," Wanda mutters, carefully pulling the top over her head to not ruin her makeup. 
"Alright, I'll hail us a cab, meet me outside."
"Wait, wait!" Wanda calls out. "I need help putting on my necklace."
You chuckle, walking back just as Wanda steps out of the bathroom with the delicate necklace she wants to wear. 
"Alright, alright, relax," you tell her. "Your accent gets really strong when you're stressed."
"You're stressing me out by rushing me," Wanda scrunches her nose even though you can't see it. "I'm also stressed knowing that you have to rush me, or I'll spend the party getting lectured by Natasha."
Wanda's voice comes out husked with the accent, something she's struggled between hating or loving, but mostly loving since you've expressed how lovely it is.
You grab the necklace from her hand, and Wanda moves her hair out of the way. The routine of it all starts to bleed the tension out of her shoulders. 
Then, that horrible Stupid Steve Sentence kicks into her brain. 
 It's only as you put your arms over, placing the necklace against Wanda's chest, and focusing on trying to get the clasp in. Wanda can feel your warm breath against her neck, summoning goosebumps along her arms. You're so close, and she can feel the heat of your body radiating onto her, your fingers just barely brushing against her.
The tension comes suddenly, squeezing inside her chest as her breathing slows and shakes. Her body warms in an unexpected way. 
"Ah, got it," you say, but Wanda can only focus on your voice and breath on the shell of her ear. "Cute necklace but the clasp is so annoying."
You pull away and start walking off. "C'mon, I bet if we tip our taxi driver an extra $20 bucks, they'll speed and we can pray we're on time."
Wanda's left standing there, knowing she probably sounds like she's fresh out of Sokovia with how stressed she is. Her right eye twitches.
Was that...Wanda gulps. Was that sexual tension?
And was she the only one who felt it?
Fuck.
She's going to kill Steve.
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 
Natasha's absolutely neurotic when they arrive. It's just a simple backyard party, but it almost looks like a wedding venue with all the catering and flowers. 
Wanda's pretty sure Natasha's only being like this because she's overthinking about whether to cling to Yelena or give her sister some space to mingle with others. She seems to be sizing up Kate, who Yelena might be seeing, but it hasn't been confirmed. 
Yelena looks between exasperated with Natasha and secretly happy about the entire thing. Wanda can sympathize with her. After all, she's also a little sister, and Pietro can also be way too overprotective. Sometimes she's glad he's abroad in Europe for work while she remains in New York, but she misses him more often than she admits. 
"Alright, alright, Natasha," you groan, and Wanda's mind slips back into the conversation. "We're 3 minutes late, relax, will you? Damn, are you always gonna be like this until you and Yelena get back into whatever sibling bond you had before? Hope you're just like this with us because otherwise, you're gonna scare away all her friends, and she's going to hate you."
"Oh my god, do you think she'll really hate me?" Natasha bites her bottom lip in worry while looking around at all the people that they can only assume she's nagged about being late or whatever mishap. 
"Oh, man," you sigh, putting your hand on her shoulders before pushing her towards the bar. "You need some drinks and maybe some desserts in you."
Wanda's about to follow you when you turn around and nod your head in a different direction. She looks over and sees you're nodding toward Vision.
"You should go say hi to him," you tell her. "You've been complaining about not seeing him all last week, even though I don't know why you guys won't just FaceTime, but I digress. Come find me later, or I'll find you after."
You look over at Natasha, who's peering on her tippy toes to see if she can find Yelena.
"And, hopefully, I'll have ditched this nutjob," you whisper conspiratorially and laugh when Natasha turns around to smack your arm. 
"I heard that!"
Wanda chuckles as you walk off with Natasha while she turns and heads toward Vision. Despite how she was complaining about not seeing Vision last week because she did miss him, her expression was sour as she made her way toward him. 
Vision spots her immediately and waves at her with a warm smile. Wanda feels herself somewhat loosened at his expression. They'd also been friends a long time before they started on-and-off dating, so at the very least, she does miss his easy friendship. 
"Hey," Vision hugs her, slightly rubbing her back before he pulls away but keeps his arm around her. "It's been a while; you look lovely."
"Thanks," Wanda smiles with a shrug. She looks around and sees he's standing with Tony and Pepper. "How are you guys?"
"Could be better," Tony sighs dramatically. "Natasha won't let me do any of my cool party tricks as if I'm going to ruin her little sister's party. If anything, I could make it the party of the century!"
Pepper rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "We were just talking about how we're thinking of going to the Bahamas for vacation in December and escaping the cold. We've invited you and Vision along since it's been awhile since we've all gone together. Of course, we can also invite Bug and Natasha."
"Oh," Wanda says for a lack of anything else to say. She doesn't know how to feel about it, but she peers over at Vision, who's just smiling at her and looking eager about it. 
"I need another drink if I'm going to suffer through this party," Tony sighs. "Maybe I can convince Yelena instead!" He grins, dragging Pepper along, and they walk off together. 
"So, what do you think?" Vision asks when they're alone. "I didn't want to reply on your behalf since I wasn't sure, but I think it'd be good for us. I've missed you," Vision pauses as if he's about his next words but then says, "a lot."
"Yeah, me too," Wanda starts to say, but then her brain gets all haywire because it feels like a lie. She did miss him, but did she miss him a lot? "I think."
"You think?"
Wanda wants to smack her forehead because she didn't mean to say that out loud. "I mean, I was complaining a lot that I haven't seen you in a while all last week."
"Yeah, work has just been overwhelming. I get so tired after work, I just can't keep up with the texting or calls."
But you can, Wanda thinks. Granted, you're her roommate, so it's easier. But even when you have to go on work trips, you regularly text her no matter what time and squeeze in a quick call, even if it's just to say goodnight. 
The entire thing makes Wanda bite her tongue because why was she even thinking about that? That was completely irrelevant to Vision. 
Then—because as if just thinking about you wasn't enough—her eyes trail across the room, and the scene before her makes Wanda even more confused about her feelings.
You're standing there with Natasha at the bar, but it looks like Natasha's calling someone over to introduce you to them.
Another brunette with long, wavy hair, like she just had a blowout done. Wanda's not 100% sure from this distance, but she has an inkling that the brunette also has green eyes. She's wearing a white halter top and wide-legged sage green pants. She wears a lot of rings, but her makeup is lighter and more summery compared to Wanda's darker, smokey eye makeup.
In short, this woman was the clean girl aesthetic version of Wanda. 
And you look interested. 
This was ridiculous, Wanda fumes, feeling her stomach sink and cheeks flare hot in anger. As quick as the anger came, it dissipated.
Why was she so angry?
She feels betrayed, and her thoughts are turning very ugly. Wanda is definitely not being a girl's girl right now with how much she's thinking she's better than the girl in front of you. 
But that just makes everything so much more confusing. 
"Wanda?"
Wanda turns her head back to Vision. He looks concerned, and even when his eyes trail toward what Wanda's staring at, there's no additional reaction. He's not upset that she's staring at you, and that has to mean something, right?
It must mean there was never a concern about how Wanda might've felt about you. Sure, there were a few things Wanda couldn't be without, and you were one of them, but nobody can't be without their best friend. 
No one had ever blinked twice about you and Wanda.
Except now.
And that person was Wanda herself. 
The more Wanda thought about the entire thing, the more she became curious. The idea of you dating people who looked like Wanda was intriguing. She wanted to ask questions but didn't know what to ask.
It might mean nothing, but it also might mean something. 
And if it does mean something, Wanda wants to know what exactly it is. 
Therefore, Wanda needs nothing in her way to find out the truth and exactly what she wants, regardless of the answer. 
This was insane, wasn't it? Wanda's always been ambivalent about dating women. She's never gone out of her way to try it since she had Vision. Never mind entertaining thoughts about dating her best (girl)friend. And now, she was giving everything up in the pursuit of finding out what it could mean that her best friend was dating her lookalikes—and why she cared.
Wanda doesn't even know what she'll want to do with that information. 
Wanda looks at Vision, peering at his features she's always found handsome. When she thinks back, she's not even sure why she complained to you about how she hasn't seen or heard from him lately. She hadn't even gone out of her own way to do something about it.
"I'm not going on the trip. I don't think I actually missed you like that."
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 
The girl introduced to you was named Raye, Natasha's coworker that recently moved from Nashville. It was also confirmed she has green eyes, though they had specks of brown in them. She was a southern belle with a bold attitude, witty, and a wicked sense of humor. All in all, undeniably charismatic. 
At least, that's what you told her in private because all Wanda could feel was unrestricted aggravation with the other girl. The southern twang made Wanda's eye twitch, mostly because she knew you were head over heels for accents.  
"And then before I knew it, I was panicked and more lost than a blindfolded turkey on thanksgiving!"
You burst out laughing while Wanda's expression is stony, but when you look at Wanda, she forces a smile on her lips.
"Hahaha," Wanda dryly let out. "So funny."
But it wasn't. What the fuck did that even mean?
Raye continues to talk while you listen with rapt interest, and Wanda takes the time to observe your features in a way she's done many times before but with a different mindset. 
Your lips are curved in a smile, glistening from your chapstick. They're shapely, and they look soft. It rivals her favorite feature of yours, which is your eyes. They've always been so expressive with her, and Wanda's been around long enough that she knows what every expression means. She can tell when they glint with mischievousness or are soft with immense compassion and empathy. 
"So, what did you think of Raye?" You ask Wanda as you leave the party.
"She's cool, I guess," Wanda answers nonchalantly. 
The rest of the party was excruciating between Raye constantly hanging around you and Wanda also being too nervous to be alone with you. 
"Really cool," you sigh with a grin. "Glad I got her number. It's been a while since I've met someone so funny."
Was she funny, though? Wanda wonders.
"Funnier than me?" Wanda finds herself asking.
"No one could be funnier than you, brat," you smirk. "I almost peed myself laughing again when you almost knocked off Yelena's cake. I thought Natasha was about to enter into a coma." You snicker while Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile. 
"Glad I can always give you the biggest laughs, stinky."
Wanda glances over at your face, recognizing the excitement by the brightness in them. It's just another reminder that, as your best friend, she knows you like the back of her hand. 
But lately, when Wanda watches you pick up girls, she can tell when they're heady with desire. That look hasn't been directed at her, and Wanda wants to know what it'd be like if it were.
Wanda recalls the night you kissed the bartender and imagines if it had been her instead. She pictures your hand sliding across her jaw and cheek while your other pulls her closer at the waist. 
It's horrifying when a slow pit of arousal builds in Wanda's gut and...other regions. It feels utterly frightening and wrong like she's betraying the friendship for having and then reacting to such thoughts about you. 
But there's another part—the part that tells Wanda there's nobody in this world that she loves more than you. The mere idea of ever being apart from you was unfathomable. Wanda could and has endured so many things, and it would always be okay as long as she had you. 
So, knowing that Southern Belle Raye has the potential to be more than a one-night stand to you, Wanda realizes that she has a very small window to not only come to terms with her newfound feelings but also act on them as well. 
If this didn't go well, Wanda would definitely murder Steve.
PART TWO
2K notes · View notes
skzcre · 10 months
Text
12:15 am
idol!minho x nonidol!reader, established relationship.
warnings: breeding kink(!!!), minho calls the reader kitten. a little bit of dacryphilia. overstimulation.
minors dni :)
his room was dark, save from the shadows the moon casted through his curtains. a cacophony of heavy breaths and skin slapping skin filled the heavy air. minho said he needed to go to bed early tonight to prepare for a very busy day preparing for the comeback.
but you had the absolute audacity to be waiting in his room wearing nothing but one of his striped long sleeves, teasing him with the sight of your thighs just barely covered by his comforter. how was he supposed to be any sort of responsible when you looked this delicious?
“shit.” he practically threw the comforter off your sweaty bodies, not caring where it landed. he was back on you immediately, pushing your plush thighs upward to let your legs rest on his shoulders before continuing his descent somehow deeper and deeper into you. you couldn’t help but to cry out for him, gripping the sheets for dear life.
minho often fucked like his life depended on it. like it would be the last time he’d get to feel your warmth or hear you keen his name. like he needed to stamp his name across every section of your body, and you fucking loved it.
there were tears blearing your vision but even in the dark you could see him so clearly. the furrow in his brow, the sheen of sweat covering his face and body. the way his abs constricted with every thrust, how his biceps flexed when he gripped your ass. like a greek god, sculpted from the finest materials known to man, and he was all yours. absolutely whipped for you whether he’d like to admit it or not. the lengths he would go just to see you smile, the effort he put into your relationship even though you naturally couldn’t see each other as often as you’d like due to his profession.
“fuck, i love you so much, min.” you whimpered out, your brain reduced to complete mush by this point. “so fuckin’ good, feels so good.”
“mm, i know, baby.” minho let your legs fall, leaning down to leave his pretty marks over your neck and jawline. his voice was deep in your ear and it made you shiver every single time. “if you keep squeezing my dick this good i might have to marry you.”
he gave you one particularly hard thrust and didn’t move, opting to stay buried deep within you. this time you screamed, back arching off the bed while your nails scraped against his arms.
“nngh…t-too deep..!”
“i wouldn’t stop fucking you, kitten. i’d fill you to the brim every hour of the day, fuck you in every single room of our home.”
you began to whine next, squirming underneath him, trying to pull away to catch a single breath. everything was just too much to handle, he felt so good inside you that it was almost painful. but minho’s strong hands easily kept you right where he wanted you.
“c’mon, pretty, you can take more. i know you can.” he cooed, pressing soft kisses all over your face. your thighs began to tremble, toes curling as your nails dug into the skin of his biceps. “c-can’t…too much—ah!”
somehow his fingers found their way down to your clit, an electric surge crackling through your entire body. it began to move on its own, hips jutting upwards for more. “fuck, fuck, fuck!”
minho drew circles around your clit, watching with adoration as you fell apart around him. “mm, that’s it. that’s my girl,”
“gonna fuck my babies into this pretty cunt.”
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
luvit · 3 months
Note
Cock worshipping Gaz. I mean look at him, i’d worship it all night long. He’d say some nasty things as he rubs his clothed cock into his girlfriend’s face as she ends up pulling down his underwear and allows herself to use his cock to her desires. That man won’t stop until he goes limp either in her pussy or mouth. Hungry for Gaz’s fat cock tbh
- 🐀
(afab!reader, mdni 18+)
happy fucking gaz day where i'm dedicating this day to only gaz (my beloved) and where we fuck him
Tumblr media
when i say gaz is super filthy with his mouth, never stops talking and saying the dirtiest things to you. this is one of the times he's so quiet. because he just has to be watching you and can only focus on the way you're showing his cock undivided attention. how you don't even look up at him because it's like nothing else matters but his dick!
gaz loves seeing you sink to your knees to worship his clothed cock, kissing at him through his pants and being happy with that no matter how thick the material is and that you're barely feeling him through all the layers. from where he sits oh, you're truly a sight to see. nuzzling your face into the zipper of his pants and taking deep breaths between each kiss you lay on him because you're just so happy to be down there and that he's letting you love on his dick.
he'll let you play a little longer as you get permission to take off his belt and unzip his trousers so that you can see the more obvious bulge in his boxers. you nose at it so that you can see his dick twitching underneath, growing harder and harder by the second. he strokes your hair so lovingly and watches you absolutely struck dumb with love because of the way you're treating his cock. def will roll his hips a little bit into your face when you nip at him through the boxers. he's straining against them and lets you maneuver his dick in a way it juts out at you from underneath the cloth and it does so little to hide how much he yearns for you.
and then when you suck at the tip through his boxers? oooouh, he's a goner for sure. groans and lightly scratches his nails into your scalp because it's like you're trying to drink him in through the cloth material. it does nothing to hide the way your tongue moves in its practiced way to lick at his slit and get the cloth so damp around him that it just sticks right to him. you mold it even more around his dick to see the clearer shape and spread your spit all over his soaked length before moving to grope at his balls too. wants to get mouthy with you sooo bad here, calling you good girl, his perfect fuckin' girl, and tell you how sinful that mouth is with those pretty lips and delicious tongue. but he has to hold back because he just wants to keep watching how you worship his cock.
he speeds up the process though by kicking off his boxers and throwing it to a random part of the room. he wants your mouth on his dick. now! to which you don't need to be told because you're immediately honing in on how there's precum smeared all over the sides of his cock to give it a nice pearly sheen. makes you want to just lick it all up, taste it on his skin. and he's fucking obsessed with the way you'll trail kisses all over the sides of him to spread his cum all over those lips like it's your favorite lip gloss. might kiss it off of you because he knows how much you hate him kissing off all the product and he does it anyways because he loves those lips and messing with you. maybe you'll be happier if he kisses this one off you.
you haven't even taken him into your mouth and he's drunk already. dick twitching against your face from the way you suck and run your tongue over the underside of his cock and licking near where his balls are. you're using your hand to rub the thick vein on his cock with your thumb, your other fingers caressing his tip so gently it sends shivers down his spine as he groans at the sight. you'll just gently move your palm up and down him using his precum and your spit to slick him up.
you'll take his balls inti your mouth and he goes crazy. because you start just jerking him off with a fast pace and your hand makes those sticky sounds the same way your pussy does. you'll give some special attention to the head as your palm swirls it and makes him buck so violently as you lick his balls so you can feel the way they tighten in your mouth. use your nails so gently against his dick he lets out shaky breaths and is on the verge of begging you to take him into your mouth. but you do him one better.
leaning up n grabbing your tits to go on the sides of his cock so they can massage them. doesn't matter how big or small they are, he's overwhelmed at his dick just touching them. will throw his head back when you slap his dick against your nipples and see that they leave marks of his cum splattering there. will just watch as you rise up to rub your nipple against his tip to smear his precum. when you go up and down to rub his dick in the valley of your chest he loses his mind when you kiss his tip when you go down. best tittyjob of his life he swears until you give him the next one.
sees your chest covered in all the precum you've squeezed out of him and he swears you can do whatever you want. suck him off and graze those teeth so teasingly around him, use those pretty hands to play with his balls and make him cum that way, ride him and take that sloppy cunt of yours to milk him absolutely dry 'til he's shooting blanks in you? maybe all of those and more? yeah he'll give you whatever you want at this point just please fuck him. don't make him beg, even tho he undoubtedly will.
Tumblr media
do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere (reblogs welcome!)
416 notes · View notes
kilobaxis-blog · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
:p
789 notes · View notes
venusrising91 · 2 months
Text
Noise Complaint
Tumblr media
Pairing: Wonho x Male reader
Genre: Smut, enemies to lovers/hate to love (no plot just vibezzzz)
Summary: Your new nextdoor neighbor, Wonho (Lee-ho) is a loud, inconsiderate gym rat. He keeps you up all hours of the night with his seedy escapades and you're sick of it. 
Word count: 2,014 (2 pages)
T/W: aggression, physical violence
It was 4am and you had work at 8, yet rest was as far from your reach as the sun would be once it rose. 
Short hours. 
You had short hours to get some much needed sleep. But no matter how hard you’d tried, you hadn’t been able to reach the REM state and it was all thanks to your obnoxious, ridiculously muscular neighbor, Lee-ho. 
    For the third time this week, giggling voices and blaring music, followed by high-pitched moans had kept you wide awake. Usually, after one or two rounds with whatever girl he’d picked up scouring city night clubs, the mewls and slaps and yes daddys would subside, and you could finally drift. But tonight, he seemed to have endless energy. You heard his date come four times. Back to back.
    It was almost 6:30 by the time they wore themselves out.
    You’d barely slept. At the office, you struggled to keep your eyes open, staring through slits at the charts on your computer. The project manager noticed you nodding and called you into her office after the meeting. As head graphic designer, you were expected to oversee and execute this assignment—because securing this client would ensure you a raise next quarter, but the arrival of your new neighbor had thrown a wrench in your performance.
    She threatened to take you off the project and her disappointment was all you could think about on your commute back home.
    In the apartment lobby, you pressed the button on the elevator console so hard it nearly jammed.
    “Sup bruh.” You whipped your head around and there was Lee-ho, all 6 feet of him, donned in gym wear and sipping on some colorful drink. You clenched your teeth.
“Hey,” you mumbled back with listless regard.
    The elevator doors opened and Lee-ho walked gingerly ahead of you. Before he could step inside however, his cell slipped from his pocket. As he bent you couldn’t help but notice his butt: firm, round, muscled. You tore your eyes away and carded your hair. Inside, the music was soft and unobtrusive. The exact opposite of Lee-ho.
“How you feeling?” he asked, plunging his hands into his pockets.
“Tired.”
He snorted. “Oh yeah, me too.”
    “I’m sure you are.” You glared at him, slightly envious of the angle of his jaw, of how much sharper it was than yours. And envious also of the broad span of his chest, his neat features, his lips, his hair. He was by all accounts, an objectively better looking man than you and this only added to your irritation.
    “What d’you mean by that?” asked Lee-ho, quirking his brow. He must have sensed your frustration because now he was folding his arms, closing up. You didn’t care.
    “You know the walls that separate us are paper thin, right?”
    “Yeah, and?”
    The doors slid open on your floor. “I can hear everything. All the time.” You stepped out before him, stalking down the hallway.
    “My bad, dude. I’ll keep it down,” he shouted after you. There was a smug air about his tone and you ignored him as you shoved your key into the lock. It was only 7pm but you were exhausted. After a quick dinner of leftover pasta, and an even quicker shower, you went to bed, desperate to get back the hours you’d lost. You drifted in minutes, sleeping soundly, until loud music and moans yanked you from your dreams at 2am.
    You leapt from the bed, pulling on a robe, not bothering to tie it. It took less than two minutes for you to reach Lee-ho’s door. You pounded on it furiously, on and on, until he swung it open. For a moment, each of you stood silently observing one another. He was fully nude, sweating and cupping his genitals as his eyes swept over you. They lingered on your chest, you noted, then trailed up to meet your gaze. Despite your robe, you felt suddenly bare, and exposed. Quickly you tied it, covering yourself from him.
    “What the fuck, dude?” said Lee-ho.
    “Keep it down.”
    “Yeah and what if I don’t?”
    “I’ll write a formal complaint. You're violating code of conduct with this shit. Some of us have actual jobs, you know?”
“I have a job.”
“Gym bro influencer and fuckboy does not an occupation make.” This was rude, and uncalled for. But you were sleep deprived. Lee-ho's shoulders slumped down a measure—he appeared somewhat diminished in the face of the insult and you almost felt bad for him. Your eyes fell on his abs however, and then, without meaning to, dipped even lower, catching a glimpse of what was too large to be completely covered by his palm. Even his cock was better than yours—he didn’t need your pity. Without waiting for a retort, you turned and stormed down the hall.
Back in your bedroom, the beginnings of an erection tugged at the tender flesh between your legs. And by the time you lay back in bed, you were rock-hard, and aching.
    In the morning you shaved and contemplated calling out, but you really couldn’t afford to. At work, you tried to concentrate but all you could think of was Lee-ho, of his throbbing head, peeking up from behind his hand in the middle of the doorway. You didn’t like men. At least you thought you didn’t. You’d had a few girlfriends in the past and once or twice thought about experimenting with a guy back in college but no one ever drew you in. No one ever attracted you the way—
    Enough, you weren’t doing this. What were you thinking? You weren’t into dudes and especially not ones you despised as much as Lee-ho. He probably never had to work for anything a day in his life. Just had to show up and collect everyone's praise and adulation. 
Prick.
    Back at the apartment, you took the stairs to avoid crossing paths with him. Thankfully it was Friday, and you could catch up on your shows without feeling guilty for missing the sleep that was so hard to come by lately. 
After dinner and a shower, you binged a season of a new show on Netflix, and dozed off halfway through. But a short while later, a sharp knock on the door jolted you awake.
    You shuffled to it, half-dazed. Waiting on the other side was Lee-ho, glaring a hole through your forehead.
    “You know, you’re a real asshole?” he declared. 
    “Could say the same about you.”
    “What you said the other night—you don’t talk to people like that. I want an apology.”
    You scoffed and made to shut the door. But he stopped it, forcing it open. “Get off the door and fuck off,” you clipped.
    “Or what?”
    Impulse and anger drove you to shove him, which was stupid. His arms alone were twice the size of yours. He shoved you back and you stumbled into your apartment. Lee-ho stepped over the threshold, letting the door slam behind him. Then his hands were on you again, crashing into your chest. It knocked the air from your lungs. Enraged, you swung and missed. He caught it and wrapped his hand around your throat, pinning you against a wall. His face was inches from yours as he strangled you, but slowly, his grip loosened. Each of you were panting. He smelled expensive, like Tom Ford—the scent filled you, clouded your head and senses. His breath on you was warm, his lips resting short inches from yours. He brought them even closer, until the tips of your noses were grazing.
“What are you doing?” you whispered.
    “I—I’m not—I’m straight but…your…” he trailed off, hand sliding across your chest.
    “You wanna fuck me, that it?” Neither of you said a word, only stood there, gazing, panting. Then your hand traveled down, until it landed on his crotch. You palmed his cock, and found it was already hard for you. After the other night, you couldn’t get it out of your mind. Once it was in your mouth, he made the most helpless sounds, cupping your head and guiding you as you swallowed it again and again.
    “Fuck, your throat feels s-so good,” mewled Lee-ho. You fought against your gag reflex, getting harder each time he shoved it in, down to the hilt. Your eyes watered. You never thought the taste of cock could turn you on this much. Women were lovely and all but this was something else entirely. It was like satisfying some primal urge you never knew existed until now. You squeezed his balls gently, sucking him all the while. He came in minutes and stood over you shivering as the orgasm rippled through him.
    You rose, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Lee-ho dropped to his knees, pulling down your boxers. He took you in his mouth and it felt like the world stopped spinning. His tongue swirled around the tip, one hand cradling your heavy balls, the other gripping your ass, a finger seeking the rosebud. He tried to slip it in but you panicked, bucking away like a spooked horse.
    “I thought you said you were straight?” you whispered.
    He popped your cock from his warm mouth. You twitched as he smirked up at you. “Chicks like it sometimes. I figured you might wanna give it a try. Feels tight though, got any lube?”
    You hesitated, wondering what it would be like to have his finger circling inside you. There was nothing but heat and silence as you stared down at him. “In the bedroom,” you said, breathlessly.
    As you lay on your back watching his chiseled body shift in the dim light, he slathered the lube you kept in your bedside drawer onto his middle finger. Then he drizzled some over your erection, spreading it with long strokes.
    “Fuuuuuck,” you whined, arching at the pleasure, at the way he gripped you.
“You like that?” With this, he slid a finger inside you, taking it slow. The pressure had you arching even more. Once he eased you past the initial pain, all you could do was moan and claw and look down at your rock-hard cock as he pumped you in two places, at different paces. In the front he squeezed tight, giving you fast, steady strokes, but in that pulsing spot between your cheeks he worked you soft and deep, taking his time as his finger explored your depths. The pressure was glorious, and you felt your entrance contracting around him. “You’re dripping for me,” he cooed. You looked down at yourself as he gripped the base, a long rope dangling from the tip onto your stomach. He licked it, dragging the pad of his tongue along your abs, then swallowed you whole. After a few hard sucks he pulled back, finger still buried in you, coaxing out spasms you couldn't control. Fuck he was so attractive, you never thought a man could make you feel this good.
    The next moment, you were shooting ropes in the air, convulsing under him and fisting the sheets as he drained you. He let you pant there, chest heaving, before taking your length back into his mouth. He sucked and finger-fucked you through your sensitivity, ignoring your loud moans and cries. You asked him to stop but you didn’t mean it. You wanted more and he gave it to you. All night. After your third orgasm you could barely stay conscious.
Lee-ho crept beside you, watching as you shivered your way through the leavings of your latest high. 
    “I’m s-sorry,” you muttered between waves of it, “about the other day. You’re right, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.”
    He chuckled. “It’s fine. I’ll be quiet from now on, promise.”
    You couldn’t quite keep your eyes open, and drifted then, still tingling from what he'd done to you. Your rest went uninterrupted for the first time in weeks. But when you woke, Lee-ho was gone.
    From then on, the noise had stopped, just like he'd promised. But a few times a week, just before bed, there came a knock at your door, and a smirking, half-naked Lee-ho waiting on the other side of it.
208 notes · View notes
mxsonxmountx · 1 year
Text
Mason Mount AU: Engagement announcement/pregnancy
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Liked by: chelseafc, declanrice and 350,457 others
@/masonmount: one surprise wouldn’t be enough, so we have two for you… 💍🤰🏽 @/youruser I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you and our baby. I love you 💙
@/declanrice: welcome to parenthood brother!
@/masonmount: bro I cannot wait
@/chelseafc: congratulations to you both, a mini blue preparing
@/jazbenham: finally we don’t have to keep it hidden
@/masonmount: can’t wait to take summer and the little one on day trips
@youruser: at last!!!!
@/reeceejames: and that’s why you’ve been missing training sessions, congratulations
@/kepaarrizabalaga: uncle kepa is waiting for cuddles little one
Liked by user
@/benchilwell: so is uncle Ben
Liked by user
@/jackgrealish: me too!
Liked by user
@/rcl: and uncle Ruben
Liked by user
@/woody: baby shopping at the ready!
Like by user
@/masonmount: bro, I don’t even know where to start
@/youruser: guess I can call you a dilf now, baby daddy 👀
@/masonmount: baby mumma 💙🥹
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Liked by: masonmount, yourbestfriend, reecejames and 230,540 others
@/youruser: when 2 turns into 3… baby mount 👶🏼 we cannot wait to have you in our life. Ps I’m engaged! 💍
@/yoursister: finally we can tell the world, auntie can’t wait for babysitting duties
@/yourbestfriend: baby mount🥹 congratulations to you both
@/declanrice: Lauren will help you with everything you need
Liked by user
@/sasha_rebecca: baby mount! Ahhh congratulations darling… @/jackgrealish, are we next?
Liked by user
@/jackgrealish: …..
@/masonmount: the only person I’d ever want to spend my life with, you’re going to be the best mumma ever
@/thiagosilva: congratulations!!
@/carlottaconstant: oh my angel, this is all what you’ve both ever wanted 🥹
477 notes · View notes
invisiblestringmm · 5 months
Text
chapter two
cut open my heart, right at the scar
Tumblr media Tumblr media
chapter index
author: thank you for staying. feedback will be greatly appreciated!
warnings: soft smut, alcohol mention, drinking, anxiety mention.
word count: 2.571k
Some people call it faith, a few others call it manifestation. It could be a mix of both — after all, what could be more powerful than an innocent child wishing for something every night as if her life hangs on it?
You didn’t know if the stars and the whole cosmos were aligned precisely to make your daughter happy, but you felt wretched knowing that her happiness meant some tough times ahead for you; all this time, she never had what she wanted the most because you’ve been keeping it from her. 
For a good motive, though.
Knowing you so well, practically as if you shared the same brain, it didn’t take much for Willow to discover what was wrong when she was determined to investigate a little. It began when you called up the office to inform them you’d be working from home due to a sudden heavy cold, then Willow found out that Lily was staying at your parent’s for the next two days; usually, the time she stayed when something was up and you needed time isolated. Then, you ignored her text messages, and also her calls when she decided to insist a bit more, knowing you’d shut off from everyone.
But you couldn’t ignore the banging on your front door.
Willow groaned when she found you still in your pyjamas, dark circles around your usually sparkly eyes, and your hair up in a messy bun. She had her brows furrowed and a large paper bag from your favourite bakery in her hand, you sighed knowing what was probably in it and how much you needed it along with a bottle of red wine - once you were done with work.
“I’ve stalked a little,” she confessed, stepping into your flat once you opened the door a bit more, giving her space. “What are the odds?”
“There aren’t any, it’s called karma and I fully accept my punishment,” you went straight to the point as you threw yourself on the sofa after grabbing the paper bag from Willow’s hands; the freshly baked chocolate muffins and croissants inside relieved your nerves only for a second.
“Don’t say that, Y/n. We both know you had your reasons,” she rubbed your back, making an effort to reassure you the minute she noticed your eyes glistening with tears. Willow had been there through it all, from the night you met Mason. 
FOUR YEARS AGO
The loud music and the bright lights were annoying, to say the least. Still, you were in such a great mood that you couldn’t stop your hips from perfectly moving right and left, to the sound of every beat, and you were having fun. It was Willow’s birthday and, as a sucker for birthdays, your mission was to have the greatest time and make sure your group of friends had a blast too. In your little world, you poured champagne into your best friend’s mouth and allowed her to pour it into yours too, but you knew Willow’s reflexes weren’t the best when sober so why would they be when she was already wasted?
“Fuuuuck!” The black slipper dress was glued to your body, but you couldn’t hold a loud laugh as Willow followed you. “Fuck, fuck! Whatever, fuck! Let’s go get another drink.” 
The thin line between carefree and careless was already there, even more so when you were bold enough to ask for tequila, after shamelessly flirting with the bartender and a few other guys around, and returned to your booth with one bottle in each hand, knowing the group would want some shots. Almost stumbling on the last step that gave you access to the booth, sitting on the burgundy leather sofa, you frowned when a towel was given to you. Looking up, you found that cute guy who you’d been staring at, holding it for you and that big smile that made the corner of his eyes wrinkle flashing at you. 
“I thought you might need this, Miss Champagne.”
“How thoughtful of you to help me with my champagne problems…?”
“Mason.” He winked and your heart skipped a beat. How pathetic, swooning for a guy you just met. At a club, and completely drunk.
Mason was a cute name, but right now you could only think of how it’d sound if he made you moan it. You didn’t know, but he thought about that multiple times since you walked into the booth next to the one he shared with his friends and watched you, he thought of how those hips would move on top of his instead of moving to the beat of each song that filled the place. He thought how badly he wanted to just hold it and make you help move them for him. You were fun, your energy matched his and he was looking for an escape. And, on top of that, you were breathtakingly gorgeous and couldn’t care less for who he was when he told you, and you stated that the only athletes you cared about were swimmers-Italians, to be more specific.
As the night went on and Willow was now forming a line of boys to kiss - twenty, to match her age - you wanted to go and stop her but you knew you wouldn’t be able. Instead, you switched the first guy for one of Mason’s friends and begged him to kiss your friend so good she wouldn’t want any other. Declan was on for the mission and they disappeared together after the kiss. 
You danced together, shared a few more shots of tequila and when Mason asked if you wanted to go to his place, there was no point playing difficult, you both wanted the same thing: fuck each other senseless. He got you all naked before you could even reach the stairs.
“You’re wearing too many clothes, Masey.” You pouted, making him giggle at the nickname. Mentally, he was already fucking you and you could tell that by the way he looked at you. “And you’re perfect just like that, I don’t want you wearing nothing but the adorable flush on your cheeks while you’re here or I might have to punish you.” 
“Hm? I think I’ll put my clothes back on, then.” On your tiptoes, you reached for his lips and brushed them with yours, his warm minted breath making you close your eyes and let out a low and hoarse moan that only worked as an incentive for Mason to grab your thighs and carry you into the living room, straight to his large dark sofa. “Too many clothes, Mason.”
He nodded and quickly got rid of the navy blue Nike hoodie and the basic white shirt at once, leaving his bare chest exposed. Your mouth watered as your eyes wandered through his body, noticing how beautifully sculpted it was, all in the right places. But what caught your attention, innocently for the first time of the night, was the bulge under his faded blue jeans. You gulped.
“Like what you see?” Mason grinned and you quickly nodded, reaching out to unbutton his jeans. He softly slapped your hand. “Why so eager, baby?” The pet name made you moan, along with the tip of his fingers touching your nipples, then between your boobs and making the dangerous way to your lower stomach. 
“Mason…” You felt your pussy clench around nothing and he gave you another grin as he made himself comfortable on the sofa and you watched his head disappear between your legs.
You felt his breath against your pussy, making your eyes roll and your back arch. “Such a beautiful pussy, I bet it tastes so good.” Mason pressed his lips against your inner thigh as his fingers now played with your juices, teasing you, making your whole body shiver and crave his touch. It felt like you were about to lose your fucking mind when he circled your clit with his thumb and his warm tongue played with your folds. Mason’s moans while eating your pussy were heavenly, he knew what he was doing and enjoyed it, but you craved for more. 
“Mason, please,” You whimpered and your eyes met. Those big, brown eyes met yours and he lifted his hea, the sight of his lips wet from your juices making you bite your lower lip as hard as you could.
“Say it.”
“I need your cock inside me, now. I need you to fuck me.”
And he did, each thrust harder and deeper than the previous as Mason devoured you. Your sweat mixed with his, your moans, and the way he fucked you was something else. When his thrusts started to become sloppy and his breathing heavier, Mason quickly flipped you so you could ride him and your only goal was to make that man cum so hard he’d forget his name. 
“You take me so well, Y/n. Such a good girl.” You felt your pussy clench around him when he praised you. Leaning your body forward, you held his jaw with your hand and let it slowly slip to his throat. Mason just nodded and you grinned, finally squeezing it softly, making him moan louder. 
“You gonna cum for me, Mason?” He nodded again, holding your hips steady as he now moved his hips up again at his own clumsy pace. “Then look at me when you do it and while I cum all over your cock.”
He repeatedly moaned your name, his grunts only encouraging you to squeeze his throat a bit harder, letting it go when a final loud grunt parted his lips and he came, followed by you, with your body finally crashing onto his.
“That was fucking great.” Mason giggled and you nodded in return, giggling too as you rolled to the side. 
“For drunk sex, it was.” Looking down at his body once again, to appreciate the view next to you, you instantly frowned when you noticed his uncovered and still-hard cock. “Mason, I thought you were wearing a condom?”
PRESENT DAY
The streetlights softly brightened your living room in the most soothing yet nearly depressing way; Willow was gone for a few hours, leaving you and your memories to yourself. During the day, you didn’t talk much about your current situation and what you’d do - if you’d do anything or just let things happen, and go with the flow, but still with some sort of control over the whole thing. Your thoughts were everywhere but also focused on two people: Lily and Mason. You knew that, eventually, you’d find yourself in this situation - it was painful, it made it hard to even breathe, and you never really prepared for it because deep down you spent four years hoping it would take lots and lots of years for Mason to be in your life again, as unfair as it was to Lily. And being unfair to your own daughter was, by far, the most disgusting thing you could do in life. She brought you nothing but love and joy. 
Willow would often say that before being a mum, you were a human being. A woman who had been hurt by a man, and then you had to raise this man’s child. But you knew you couldn’t use this excuse anymore, it was time to face the consequences of keeping Lily hidden from her father and his family, and above all, stop punishing your daughter for your poor choices in life.
Your phone buzzed with a text from Jaz asking if the plans you had for Saturday were still up, and you apologised saying that you had the flu, but that Lily was more than allowed to go and you’d talk to your mum to arrange everything. After another lie to protect yourself, since there was no flu, you thought that maybe opening a bottle of white wine would help you through what it would be a long night awake, alone with your own thoughts and desperate attempts to minimise all the collateral damage that would find its way into your life once you revealed the truth. First to your daughter, then you’d have to hunt Mason Mount again.
His reaction was what frightened you the most. What would he do? What would he say?
Would he take Lily from you?
Would he hate Lily and reject her?
Every question that crossed your mind blurred your sight, made your heart clench and felt like a stab right through your heart. 
You would never let him take Lily from you, but the thought of him rejecting her was just as painful, because that little girl was something else and she deserved the whole world. She deserved a daddy that would be entirely devoted to her, just like yours had been since the day you were born.
Already feeling your body welcoming the familiar floating sensation caused by the wine, you allowed yourself to stalk Mason a little - something you hadn’t done in the longest time. It didn’t surprise you that he still looked pretty much the same. Everytime you caught his face on TV, you avoided looking too much because it hurt and bothered you deeply, but now, scrolling through his pictures you noticed that his smile was still the same and the wrinkles around his eyes was something Lily had inherited. The soft redness on his nose too. Lily had a lot of him, even if you knew so little about Mason, despite sharing a life with him.
The Instagram “message” button burned under your finger, but you went back to scrolling through his pictures, because what exactly would you say? 
“Hi, remember me? That day I went to your house and you shoved me off, I was going to tell you I was carrying your child so I’ve decided to hide her from you for a period of four years”.
Gosh, what a fucked up situation you were in. Besides, what was the chance he’d actually reply?
Liking one of his pictures was subtle, he wouldn’t notice. One like amongst the millions he was getting post World Cup. You’d let the universe decide if things should run its natural course or you’d have to put yourself in a situation you’ve lived before: ringing his doorbell and telling him the biggest news of his life, but four years later, and pray for the best outcome there could be of this situation. You wondered what your family would say, what his family would say, how everyone would treat you after but you couldn’t expect much. You were hiding a child from her own right to have both sides of her family whilst growing up, despite your personal reasons. 
What would the media say, if it ever came to that? 
“Heavens, I think I’m gonna vomit…” You mumbled, the combination of alcohol and thoughts of your daughter’s precious face in the media, on gossip websites, made some tears fall freely down your cheeks. You still forced a large gulp of wine, to ease the anxiety that was creeping in. Half of the bottle was gone.
You fucked up, greatly and badly.
With tears still wetting your cheeks, looking absolutely pathetic, you frowned at the notification that popped on your screen. 
Tumblr media
Mason Mount was officially back into your life.
In fact, he never really left. You had the most special part of him with you, and you could only hope he’d see it the exact same way.
316 notes · View notes
geminiwritten · 1 year
Text
i’m yours ; billy butcher
fandom: the boys
pairing: billy x reader
summary: you find out that butcher slept with maeve, and attempt to ignore your feelings by going m.i.a. and going home with a complete stranger, only to awake the green-eyed monster living inside of butcher
preface: this isn’t set in canon timeline, it’s basically just using the bit where butcher sleeps with maeve as a bit of a jealousy catalyst
notes: this man has a hold on me... and i feel like this got a little rushed at the end but i still kind of like it, please let me know what y’all think! (also, i’m sorry all my stuff has the same formula, i promise i’m trying to mix it up!)
warnings: a lot of swearing, the ‘sewer-slide’ word, google-translated french, sexual content, and some soft smut
Tumblr media
word count: 5315
Things are good, too good, but you’re doing your best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hughie and Annie are happy, MM is content, and Frenchie is excitedly creating new methods of blowing up Supes almost daily. Butcher is… well, Butcher. He’s grumpy and brash, but seems to be feeling a little more positive lately, focusing more on recon and intel rather than running in with guns blazing.
For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you had managed to go grocery shopping without anyone stumbling home bloody and bruised. Frenchie is humming along to the song that had been playing on the radio, carrying most of the plastic bags while MM carries one with you on his back. You were all in such high spirits that he had let you jump on his back at the bottom of the apartment stairs, carrying you up four flights as if you weighed no more than a hiking backpack.
Frenchie chuckles at the two of you as he unlocks the apartment door, entering first and pushing it open all the way. You have to duck a little, giggling and holding on to MM for dear life as he starts jogging toward the couch. He drops the bag on the floor before falling into the sofa, and you squeal as he squashes you.
“Hey,” you exclaim, still laughing, “what the fuck? Steeds don’t sit on their riders!”
“You want to ride me next, petit ange?” Frenchie calls from the kitchen.
You writhe until MM moves, standing up with a satisfied grin across his lips. You flip him your middle finger as he turns away, ushering Frenchie out of the kitchen so he can put the groceries away. You find the TV remote buried in the couch cushions, and just as the old screen flickers to life, Kimiko emerges from the hallway. She looks at Frenchie with a small smile, signing hello before her nose crinkles, and she signs another sentence you struggle to catch as your attention is called toward the master bedroom doors.
Frenchie frowns curiously, “She says that it smells in here.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you lot are stinkin’ up my fuckin’ apartment,” Butcher says, running a hand through his hair.
He looks like shit. His shirt is wrinkled and the buttons are fastened crookedly, his hair is standing up in all directions, and the circles beneath his eyes are several shades darker than usual.
“It is our apartment, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “it is the least you can after making me blow up my last two places, eh?”
Butcher rolls his eyes before dropping into one of the dining room chairs, holding his face in his hands as he takes several deep breaths.
Frenchie looks to Kimiko again before translating, “She says it smells like alcohol and sweat, and a perfume that she has not smelt before.”
“I don’t wear perfume,” you note, “every time we have to haul ass and run, the bottles end up broken or missing, so I gave up.”
MM raises his hands in defence, “Don’t look at me, I haven’t seen anyone but you lot in the past twelve hours.”
“Perhaps it is something we picked up at the shops,” Frenchie shrugs.
Kimiko signs again, and you watch her to listen.
“You can smell a stranger?” you ask with a frown.
“To reiterate,” MM says, “I stayed at a motel alone last night, I was too tired to drive all the way here after visiting Janine.”
“I stayed with Annie,” you point out, “is that who you can smell?”
Kimiko shakes her head, and your heart begins to race anxiously. Neither she nor Frenchie stayed here last night either, opting for one of his old hideouts after scouring the city for any possible missed traces that Vought could use to find you all.
MM turns to Butcher, “Was there someone here last night?”
“Why would you not tell us that there was a break in?” Frenchie demands, his face a mixture of irritation and concern.
Butcher sighs, “There wasn’t a fuckin’ break in, calm down.”
Kimiko pads quietly around the room, subtly sniffing the air around MM and then Frenchie before moving toward you. She inhales above your head and grimaces, before moving to the side and taking a deep breath over the couch.
You shoot up from your seat and stumble toward the kitchen, “Me or the couch?”
She points at the sofa.
“Butcher,” MM says, his voice demanding, “explain before I slap your hungover ass.”
Its only then that you notice the two empty bottles of whiskey, one on the coffee table and one laying on the floor. You back up slowly toward the kitchen, a fresh wave of panic washing over you.
“Someone stopped by,” Butcher mutters into his hands, “that’s all.”
You reach the kitchen bench at the same time Kimiko does, still sniffing like a police dog, and her face twists into a disgusted frown. You startle again, jumping back from the bench as if it had burnt you.
“Care to elaborate?” MM presses.
Butcher sighs, and you can feel a lump growing in your throat.
“We all sleep here too, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “and we deserve to know if it is still safe to do so.”
“‘Course it’s fuckin’ safe,” Butcher says, finally turning his head to face the room. “Maeve came by, alrigh’? Just her, ‘n’ she had some information, so we had a chat and a drink. Is that alrigh’ with you nosey bastards?”
A weight drops in your stomach, anchoring you to the floor as moisture begins to blur your vision.
Kimiko stops sniffing when she reaches Butcher, cringing and stumbling several paces back until she is beside Frenchie.
“You slept with a Supe?” MM gasps.
Butcher huffs and pushes himself up from the chair, “No fuckin’ privacy with you lot, is there?”
MM raises his hands again, “Hey, I’m not judging, just shocked.”
Frenchie’s concern melts into taunting smirk, “No need to be defensive, Monsieur Charcutier, we all have our needs, and I am surprised that you managed to woo such a beautiful woman.”
“Fuck off, Frenchie,” Butcher sighs, dragging his feet toward the fridge.
Their voices blur into white noise as you focus on the slow inhale and exhale of your breath. You wriggle your toes in your boots, forcing yourself to feel your physical body instead of the whirlwind of emotions swirling through your head. It feels like your skull is fracturing with the effort that it takes to contain the storm, but you refuse to let your feelings win. You find a bottle and push them inside, jamming the cork in just as Frenchie snaps his fingers in front of your nose.
You blink, “What?”
“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft crease between his brows.
“Yeah, sorry,” you blink again to quell your watery eyes, “what’s up?”
“Are you hungry?”
You glance over his shoulder at Butcher, his head in the fridge as he ignores MM’s demands to get out of the way.
“Not really,” you reply, “I was actually thinking about going back over to Annie’s, I think I forgot my… my socks.”
The concern between Frenchie’s brows deepens, “You forgot your socks?”
You nod, “My favourite socks.”
“Didn’t know you had favourite socks,” Butcher mumbles as he steps out of the kitchen.
“You don’t know a lot of things,” you state, plastering on a smile that you know doesn’t reach your eyes.
You can feel their curious gazes on you as you turn, retrieving your wallet and keys from the couch before striding out of the apartment door without a second glance. You pull your phone out of your pocket and text Annie to let her know that you’re on your way before switching it to ‘do not disturb’ and zipping it inside your jacket pocket, determined to forget about it until you’ve got a handle on your emotions.
The sun is setting by the time you reach the familiar street on which Hughie and Annie’s apartment is located, and you’re rather proud of the fact that you managed to focus on nothing but your steady steps the whole way here. You look up at the brick building on your left, but instead of turning toward the front steps, your feet carrying you across the street toward the park, not stopping until you’re standing in front of an empty bench.
“Something wrong with that one?” a voice asks, and you startle toward the source of it.
A young man is standing beside you, clad in running shorts and a tight exercise jacket. He doesn’t look menacing, but your whole body tenses as your fight or flight instincts battle for dominance.
“I’m sorry?”
He chuckles, “The bench, I mean. You’re frowning at it as if it’s diseased or something.”
“Oh,” you look back at the moss-ridden seat, “no, I just- I don’t know.”
“Are you alright?”
He buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and you let yourself relax, deciding that he isn’t a threat, just an overly friendly stranger.
“I’m fine, sorry,” you sigh, “just had a weird day.”
“That’s nothing to apologise for,” he says, sitting on the bench and looking up at you. “I know the feeling.”
You sit beside him, watching his side profile and slowly realising how attractive he is. His hair is cropped short, shorter than you usually liked, but his eyes are a stunning green and the faint shadow of stubble across his jaw is definitely something you can appreciate.
“Do you often approach strangers in the park?” you ask.
He laughs again, his eyes sparkling under the orange sky, “No, not really, especially not strangers as gorgeous as you.”
You blush at the ground, deciding to focus on your fraying shoelaces rather than the handsome stranger.
“But I figured,” he goes on, “that if I didn’t ask this pretty girl if she was okay, I might not be able to stop thinking about her for the rest of my life.”
You actually giggle, immediately cursing yourself for being so easy, “That’s a long time.”
“I know, right? I didn’t fancy the risk, and hey,” he smiles at you, “looks like it might have been worth it.”
“Maybe,” you smile back, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”
“Nate.”
You’re not sure if you’re an idiot or if you’ve just given up on your own personal safety, but you sit and talk to Nate until the sun is well below the horizon. You learn that he’s a journalist and a dog person, and lately he’s been more afraid of Supes than comforted by their presence. You tell him you’re a freelancer, because it isn’t technically a lie, and that you’re in between gigs at the moment but questioning whether you’re really doing what you want to be doing. Also, not a lie.
“I know that this is probably very forward,” he says, his knee bouncing nervously, “but did you want to come back to my place for a drink? I would suggest a bar, but I’m not really dressed for it, and I just get this feeling that as soon as we say goodbye, you’re going to disappear forever.”
You frown, “You’re a real long-term guy, aren’t you?”
His cheeks flush pink, “I don’t have to be.”
As you walk alongside the man you met mere hours ago, you come to the conclusion that you must be suicidal. In the current state that the world is in, who in their right mind goes home with a complete stranger? You, apparently.
His apartment isn’t far from the park, which is a little comforting, knowing that you will have a speedy escape to Annie’s place if this guy does end up being a psycho serial killer. The buildings all look the same as you approach a row of tall brick blocks, climbing the few concrete steps up to the lobby doors before scaling three flights to reach his apartment door.
It’s surprisingly well decorated inside, and you can eye a few expensive items that make you wonder if he really is a struggling journalist, or perhaps a shady underground arts dealer. You take a seat at the kitchen bench as he babbles about how crappy his landlord is and how much money he’s had to spend on the place to make it liveable. The glass of wine he places in front of you is gone within two gulps, and he happily pours you another.
“I feel like I probably should have asked this a few hours ago,” he says with a sheepish smile, “but you aren’t with anyone, are you? Engaged or married, or anything like that.”
You choke on your mouthful of cheap wine, coughing the burn away while he hurries to get you a glass of water.
“No,” you finally reply, “I’m not, at all.”
“Good,” he replies, his earnest grin returning, “I mean, it’s surprising because you’re incredible, but I’m glad.”
You offer him a smile that you hope appears coy and not at all forced before drinking down the rest of your second glass of wine. He moves into the lounge room, and you take the opportunity to pour yourself another generous glass, quickly swallowing the two mouthfuls left in the bottle while his back is still turned. You gingerly place the empty bottle in the sink before following him, dropping onto the soft leather couch as he turns on the television.
A news broadcast lights up the screen, and fiery images of a truck collision flash behind the breaking news banner that reads: ‘QUEEN MAEVE SAVES THE DAY’. Your stomach twists into a knot as the bottle of emotions you had managed to almost forget about begins to break, the glass fracturing and threatening to send you into a full-blown mental breakdown.
“Damn,” Nate sighs, “I know the Supes are pretty sketchy these days, but Queen Maeve is just gorgeous.”
With one last burning gulp of wine, you turn to the man beside you and take his head between your hands, crushing your lips against his. He gasps, but responds quickly, his hands finding your hips and guiding you onto his lap.
The rest of the night is a blur as you attempt to give all of your attention to this stranger that you barely know instead of confronting the green-eyed monster roaring in your belly. He finishes once on the couch, pretty quickly, but you’re not one to judge, before you drag him into the bedroom and away from the incessant news broadcasts of Queen Maeve’s heroic act.
It isn’t your alarm that wakes you, or the sound of Frenchie and MM arguing about how to cook eggs, but rather the unfamiliar scent that douses your breath. Your body trembles with anxiety and your eyes snap open, darting around the strange room as your thoughts scramble to remember how you got here.
“Fuck,” you sigh at the sound of someone snoring beside you.
You gently roll over and slip out of the sheets, cold air immediately nipping at your naked body. You find the nearest item of clothing and slip it over your head before tiptoeing out of the bedroom and into the lounge room. Nerves and hunger mingle inside of your stomach, making you overwhelmingly nauseous by the time you find your jacket thrown over the back of the couch.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter as you retrieve your phone from the pocket.
Dozens of missed calls and text messages fill your lock screen, several from Annie and Frenchie, a couple from Hughie and MM, but the majority of them listed under Butcher’s contact name, ‘Big Willy’. You thought it was funny a few days ago.
You quickly text Annie that you’re okay, you’re incredibly sorry, and that you’ll fill her in as soon as you see her. You find your jeans and wriggle into them before finding your panties and tucking them into your back pocket. You scoop your bra and your shirt off the floor on your way to the kitchen, and check your phone again for a reply from Annie. Nothing yet.
You drink the glass of untouched water from the kitchen bench before splashing your face and trying to calm the vibration of nerves coursing through your body.
“Hey.”
You startle at the sudden voice, turning to find Nate in nothing but sweatpants as he emerges from the bedroom.
“Hey,” you murmur.
He frowns, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I-I’m fine, just- uh, my friends have been calling me,” you gesture to your phone, “and they’re pretty worried.”
“Oh,” he lets out a long breath, “I didn’t even hear it ringing last night.”
You smile weakly, not bothering to explain that you were intentionally avoiding your phone all afternoon.
He steps forward, “So, did you-”
The apartment door bursts open, splinters of wood scattering across the floor as you squeal and Nate jumps away from the blow. Your heart is racing, but your body reacts as it was trained to do, and you dive for a knife from the block beside the stove before freezing as you recognise the figure stalking through the broken door.
“Butcher,” you say, “what the fuck?”
His head snaps toward you, the crease between his brows softening and his eyes looking almost vulnerable as realises that it’s you.
“I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you and why did you just break my door?” Nate speaks up.
Your stomach sinks as Butcher’s attention is turned toward the shirtless man, murderous intent returning to his face.
“Who the fuck am I?” he spits, “Who the fuck are you?”
Nate looks tiny compared to Butcher, his narrow frame absolutely dwarfed by Butcher’s broad height and intimidating stance.
“I-I’m Nate,” the smaller man says, “and this is my apartment, that’s my door that you just destroyed.”
“Yeah?” Butcher taunts, stalking forward, “An’ what’re you gon’a do ‘bout it?”
Nate looks at you, his eyes frantic and begging for help.
“Butcher, calm down, he’s-”
“Calm down?” he whirls toward you, “You want me to fuckin’ calm down?!”
“Hey, man,” Nate says, “we can talk, you don’t have to-”
“Nate,” you put your hand up, “I’m sorry, but please shut up.”
“Nate,” Butcher repeats mockingly, “if you value your life, I’d listen to ‘er.”
You drop the knife on the bench, “Butcher, can we just leave, please?”
“You don’t get to make any requests right now, sweethear’,” he says, taking a heavy step toward you, “not after the shit you put me through for the past twelve fuckin’ hours.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls sarcastically, “maybe ‘bout the fact that you fuckin’ disappeared! You didn’t answer your damn phone, didn’t tell anyone where you fuckin’ were! I got a call from Hughie askin’ if you were back home, ‘cause you texted Annie ‘n’ told her you were comin’, but didn’t fuckin’ show up!”
A pebble of guilt drops into your stomach, but you ignore it, squaring up to him with a scowl.
“So?” you shrug, “I’m an adult, I can do as I fucking please.”
“Not without tellin’ me!” he exclaims, “Not if I don’t know where you fuckin’ are or if you’re even fuckin’ alive!”
“You’re not my fucking father, Butcher!” you shout back, feeling another fissure in the bottle of emotions. “I don’t belong to you, I don’t have to ask you for permission to live my own fucking life!”
His jaw twitches, a tidal wave of emotion crashing through his eyes all too quickly for you to try and discern any of them.
“A-Are you Y/N’s boyfriend?” Nate asks timidly.
You and Butcher turn to him in unison, exclaiming at the same time, “No!”
A beat of silence passes, and Butcher’s glare doesn’t falter. You take a deep breath to try and sooth the storm of frustration threatening to consume you.
“Butcher,” you say softly, “can we please leave?”
His head snaps back toward you, his eyes scanning your body as they fill with realisation.
“Did you fuck her?” he asks, turning back to Nate.
He doesn’t respond, his mouth hanging open as he takes several steps back.
“You gon’a answer me?”
“Butcher,” you say again, “cut it out.”
He takes another menacing step toward Nate, “I asked you a question.”
“W-We slept together, yes,” Nate stammers.
The laugh that leaves Butcher’s lips is chilling, sounding almost mad.
“Oh, pardon my French,” he says, “perhaps I should’a asked if you made sweet fuckin’ love to this gorgeous woman right ‘ere.”
“For fuck’s sake!” you shout, “Stop it, stop whatever the fuck this is, and let’s just fucking go!”
“You’re tellin’ me that you fuckin’ disappeared so you could hide out with this fuckin’ twat?” Butcher exclaims, “You let me worry myself fuckin’ sick so you could get a lousy fuck?”
The bottle explodes, shards of glass cutting you from the inside and sending white hot waves of frustration and anger, and despair rolling through your body.
“I can fuck whoever I want, Butcher!” you scream, startled by the volume of your own voice.
His eyes narrow, but his lips don’t move.
“And you can fuck whoever the fuck you want,” you spit, “obviously.”
You snatch your phone off the bench and stomp toward the door, turning to Nate with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, about… this.”
You continue down the hall and the three flights of stairs, not bothering to check if Butcher is following until you’re outside. The temperature is significantly lower than it was yesterday, but your stubbornness doesn’t let you show it as Butcher strides past you toward the car haphazardly parked at the curb.
You climb into the passenger’s seat, sitting as close as you can to the door and hugging your clothes against your chest as you stare out the window. Tears fill your eyes, your nose growing hot and your cheeks undoubtedly red as you use every ounce of self-control you still have to stave of the inevitable. All you need to do is make it home and make it to your bedroom, and then you can cry. You can curl up with your face in your pillow and sob, and admit that you’re jealous, that you’re hurt, and that you love a man who doesn’t even understand the meaning of that word anymore.
“You look like shit,” he grunts.
You sniffle, keeping your face turned away from him, “So do you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get much fuckin’ sleep,” he says as the car comes to a halt, “I was up all night worryin’ ‘bout whether or not you were fuckin’ alive.”
“Well, I didn’t get much sleep either,” you retort, before pushing the passenger door open and stumbling out.
You hear the car door slam as you hurry up the stairs and into the building, taking the steps two at a time until you reach the apartment door. To your great relief, it’s unlocked, and you let yourself in before Butcher has even made it into the hallway.
“Oh, my goodness, mon amour,” Frenchie gasps, “you’re alive! You’re okay… are you okay?”
You don’t realise your crying until you try to look at him, your vision blurred by heavy tears as they fall in fat droplets down your cheeks.
MM steps forward, “What happened?”
“Nothing,” you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, “I’m fine, I was with a-a friend.”
“A friend?” Butcher echoes, the door slamming behind him.
Your blood sizzles in your veins, heated by the overwhelming frustration coiling in your chest.
“How the fuck did you know where I was?” you demand, spinning around to face him.
He doesn’t answer.
“Do you have my fucking phone bugged?”
Butcher blows a long breath out of his nose, the thick vein in his neck throbbing under his red skin. “Look,” he says, “I know that whatever the fuck just happened wasn’t ideal, but why can’t you fuckin’ see this from my point of view?”
“Our point of view,” MM corrects, “we were all worried.”
“I get that!” you exclaim, “I fucking understand that, but what I don’t understand is why Butcher is still acting like such a fucking cunt. You can see that I’m fine! I’m alive, so what’s your problem?”
“What’s your problem?” he snaps, “Why didn’t you answer your fuckin’ phone? Why didn’t you tell anyone where you fuckin’ were? And why the fuck did you go home with a complete fuckin’ stranger?”
“Oh, shit,” Frenchie murmurs.
“Maybe I just needed a fucking break.”
The room falls quiet, the only sound being Frenchie’s soft footsteps as he backs away. You use the clothes in your arms to wipe the fresh fall of tears from your cheeks and try to ease your shaky breaths as you wait for another onslaught of reprimands.
Butcher sighs, “Go shower.”
“What?”
“You need to shower,” he says, stepping forward.
You frown, “Why?”
“You look like shit, and you sm-” he stops himself, pausing when you take a small step back.
“I look like shit and I smell,” you finish for him, “thanks, Butcher.”
You drag your feet toward the bathroom, dropping your clothes on the floor and staring at your wrecked face in the mirror. Your hair is a mess and your face is blotchy and red, with streaks of black painting your cheeks. The shirt hanging loosely from your shoulders is unfamiliar, and something akin to disgust settles in the pit of your stomach.
“Give me your clothes,” Butcher says as he appears in the reflection behind you.
“Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?”
He sighs, “I’m tryin’ to help.”
“I don’t want your fucking help,” you turn to him and lean against the vanity, “go offer it to someone else. I’m sure Maeve would love to see your fucking name pop up on her phone.”
His frown disappears, and you can feel the air shift. Fuck. Now you’ve done it. The shards of glass sticking you from the inside have cut right through your chest, slicing it open as your ribcage cracks and unfolds, presenting your pathetic heart to the man who already held it in his hands.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back with determination.
“I-Is that what this is-” he struggles for words, running his hands through his hair, “for fuck’s sake, Y/N.”
Your breath comes and goes in short gasps, the lump in your throat crushing your windpipe as it demands to be felt.
“For fuck’s sake!” he exclaims, before taking one step forward and slamming the bathroom door shut.
Fear sparks through you, and you whimper, “Butcher, please don’t-”
Before you can finish, he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a vice hold as he rests his chin on the top of your head. You sob into his shirt, tremors wracking your exhausted body as every bit of fear and frustration tears you apart from the inside. You’re not sure how you let yourself get this emotional. Maybe it’s the fact that the world is falling apart, and you’re supposed to act like you’re ready to save it? Or maybe it’s because you’re fucking tired of having everything you love ripped away from you, every chance you think you might have at happiness taken from you by the cunts in the sky who call themselves ‘Superheroes’.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”
The turbulence inside of you quells simply because you finally acknowledged it, and you manage to swallow the lump in your throat.
“Butcher,” you croak, looking up at him through tear laced lashes, “kiss me?”
He hooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts it up, leaning in to meet you the rest of the way before his lips brush yours. It’s hesitant and soft, barely a touch, and he pulls away too soon.
“You need to shower.”
“Oh,” you try to wriggle out of his arms, but they’re too strong.
“I can smell that fuckin’ twat all over you,” he growls, “an’ it’s makin’ me fuckin’ sick.”
Realisation slaps you across the face, giving you the strength to remember how to hold yourself up as he pulls away. His fingers curl into the material at the neck of your shirt, ripping it apart right down the middle before pushing it off your shoulders and tossing it on the floor.
Another growl rumbles through his chest and the air in the room shifts again, now thick with a tension that has your heart throbbing in anticipation. Your mind races, your thoughts riding rollercoasters as you struggle to catch up with his fast hands. Your jeans are unbuttoned and pooled around your ankles in less than a second, and he takes another moment to devour your naked body before moving to turn on the shower.
You stumble out of your jeans as he quickly sheds his own clothes before wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulls you under the warm stream of water and holds your body against his, the feeling of his bare skin making your head spin. He takes the bottle of bodywash from the small shelf and pops the cap with one hand, turning it upside down and squirting a ridiculous amount all over your chest and his.
You giggle and he grins, returning the bottle to the shelf before crushing his lips against yours. The soap makes your skin slide against his in the most delicious way and you can feel your core clench, eliciting a wanton moan from your open mouth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and claiming you with hungry, sloppy kisses.
“Didn’t think you’d be jealous,” he murmurs against your mouth, “didn’t think you fuckin’ cared about me.”
You slide your hands across his bare shoulders and behind his neck, finding purchase in his wet hair and tugging gently as you kiss him with every ounce of passion that you have.
“I do care,” you sigh when his lips leave yours to lap at your neck, “I am fucking jealous.”
“Sweethear’,” he whispers, his hands moving to your breasts, “you’ve got nothin’ to be fuckin’ jealous ‘bout.”
His mouth leaves your skin as he turns you to face the wall, pressing his body against your back before pushing you into the tiled wall. You gasp first at the sudden cold, and then at the feeling of him grinding himself against your ass.
“I’m yours,” he growls, his lips against your shoulder, “always fuckin’ have been.”
You still manage to speak despite the pleasure of him threatening to overwhelm you. “Then why?”
One hand wraps gently around your throat while the other splays across your lower belly, teasing the place just below that aches for his touch.
“‘Cause I never fuckin’ dreamed that I’d have you,” he says, his lips at your ear now.
You reach back with one hand, holding the nape of his neck as you turn so that your mouth can meet his in a messy kiss.
“You’ve always had me,” you murmur, “I belonged to you the day I met you.”
His hips buck against your ass, pressing you against the wall and making you whimper.
“You’re mine,” he says, moving back just enough for you to turn around.
You nod as you lean down to kiss his neck. Your tongue laving at his wet skin before your teeth sink in and he hisses, one hand squeezing your hip as the other smacks against the tiled wall.
“All yours.”
You place your hands against his chest, pushing him back enough for you to drop to your knees, your hands trailing down his body until they reach his hips. You dig your fingers in and look up at him through your wet lashes.
“Show me who I belong to.”
END.
1K notes · View notes
mlmxreader · 1 year
Text
No Sugar | Mother's Milk x m!reader
anonymous asked: hi! would you please write a Mother’s Milk x male reader with the lyrics (slipknot) “Let me tell you, man, I said it, I meant it” and “What do you need?” where they idk, like finally admit they like eachother bc they’ve been working together for a few years! maybe it ends w/ them cuddling or something!
summary: a routine game of cards turns into something much different than you first planned.
tws: swearing
support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy
Of all the people in the world who made you feel safest and soundest, it had to be Marvin; you had known each other for years and years, worked shoulder to shoulder and spent many breaks sleeping against each other, you really loved him, really liked to have him close and to be close to him.
You were actually so close that his daughter would run up to you and jump in your arms whenever she saw you, and as she got older, it did get more difficult to keep your balance when she did so; but you looked after her like she was your own, and you knew Marvin appreciated the times that you volunteered to look after her while he took a much needed nap on the sofa.
Thankfully though, he had come over to see you tonight as part of your weekly routine; once a week, he would come over to play a few card games with you and to have a few drinks, kick back and relax, just the two of you. The moment he walked through the door was the very moment your heart started to pound, and when he hugged you, it felt like home; burying your face against the side of his neck as you clung onto him, wishing for the embrace to never end.
He let go eventually, reluctant to pull away, and you didn't miss the way that he briefly looked at your lips as he kept you close, the tip of his nose nearly brushing against your own; you tried your best not to whimper when he broke the embrace and took a step back, clearing his throat as he smiled.
"You okay?"
You nodded. "Yeah, yeah, not bad - how's Janine?"
"She said thank you," Marvin chuckled. "She loves that jaguar teddy bear you got her... y'know, she even said you're her favourite babysitter."
You laughed softly as you shook your head, letting him follow you into the kitchen; he made himself at home at the dinner table, reaching for the deck of cards and starting to shuffle them.
"Coffee?"
"Please," he agreed. "No sugar."
"I know," you hummed, reaching for the cup that he always had. It was an older mug, some of the colour and life drained from it, but it had once proudly had the album art of Wu-Tang Clan's 'Enter The Wu-Tang' on it. "I do remember those things, y'know - same as I remember that you always show up here when you're wearing your Snoop Dogg shirt."
"You really remember that?" He hummed, starting to dish out the cards, already knowing by instinct where you would sit, at the head of the table and always to his left.
It was the same as when you walked together, you were always on the outside of the pavement to his left. Always to his left when you worked together, too, and always slept on the left side of the bed when he napped with you; he almost felt like something was missing when you weren't there with him. Just like how you knew he took his coffee without sugar and how he always wore the same shirt, he knew you would always be to his left.
When you finally came to sit beside him, you sat in the exact chair, and Marvin easily pushed the chair out for you, grinning when you picked up your cards and playfully glared at him.
"So, motherfucker with a heart," you cleared your throat to avoid the urge to laugh. "What're we playing? Strip poker?"
"Not today," he shifted in his seat, swallowing thickly as his breath hitched for just a single moment. "Today's poker."
"Texas hold 'em?"
"Texas hold 'em," he nodded. "Your favourite."
You watched him for a second, leaning back in your chair and bringing your legs up so that you could rest your feet on his thigh; grumbling softly when he put one hand down and started to rub little circles into your calf with his thumb.
"Don't try and butter me up," you warned. "That's cheating."
"You cheat all the time," he pointed out. "Last time, you sat on my lap and stole my cards... or did you forget?"
"I'll do it again," you cautioned with a slight grin.
"Come on, then," he pushed his chair back, spreading his legs as he laid his cards facedown on the table. A soft groan coming from the back of his throat when you planted yourself on his lap. He put his arm around you to keep you steady. "Don't look at my cards."
You leaned into him, placing your hand on his as you paused for a moment. "Marv?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm starting to feel something," you mumbled.
"Was it that phaal curry you had earlier? Because I told you last time, if the food keeps upsetting your stomach, don't go to the-"
"No, not that," you shook your head, shifting a little to get more comfortable. "It's... fuck."
"What?"
You weren't sure if you could actually admit it, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you tried not to focus on how it felt to be held by him and to be sitting on his lap; heart racing and your hands trembling, forcing you to put down the cards as you turned around. Straddling his waist and putting your hands on his chest, covering some of the writing on his shirt as your breath hitched.
You couldn't help but to look down at his lips for a moment, a soft and quiet whimper slipping from the back of your throat. "Marvin..."
"I got you," he whispered, shaking his head. "What do you need? Talk to me, (y/n)."
You held onto his shirt, trying to concentrate on the feeling of the soft fabric against your fingers but constantly distracted by how he kept his hands on you to keep you steady; the way his breath was so gentle and how his words were your oasis in the desert. Fuck.
"Shitting fuck, Marv, I think I might be in love with you."
"Think I might feel the same," Marvin admitted quietly, nodding as he looked at your lips for a moment, swallowing thickly and trying to focus on keeping you steady on his lap. His concentration constantly broken by the way you looked at him.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he breathed out. "Can I, uh..."
"Kiss?" The word came out so softly, so hesitant and nervous, you couldn't believe you had even said it.
But then he nodded, starting to bite at the inside of his lip as nervousness overtook him. "That."
"Sure..." you made the move, edging closer until the distance was slowly closed.
He kissed you back immediately, so soft and so gentle, so slow and so cautious; it was plain to see that neither of you wanted to make a mistake, but it was easy to get lost. The way he kissed you took your breath away, one hand coming up to rest on his shoulder as he deepened it, stealing more of your breath as you held onto him.
It had been a while since Marvin had actually kissed another man, but fuck, he was glad it was you; he was glad that it was the man he had slowly fallen absolutely head over heels for, and when he broke away, breath soft and hurried, he couldn't help but to smile.
"I... fuck, (y/n)."
"What?"
"I haven't kissed a man like that in years," he admitted quietly, a little anxious about how you felt.
Your hand dragged from his shoulder to his jaw, gently rubbing your thumb up and down his face as you smiled. "I liked it."
"You did?"
"I did," you nodded, even daring to kiss him again. "And, y'know... you could always, uhm, always kiss me like that again, if you wanted to."
Slowly, he moved, coaxing you onto the table and standing between your legs as he planted his hands either side of your thighs. "I love you, and let me tell you, man, I said it, I mean it... I... I love you."
"I love you, too," you put your hands on his shoulders. "Marvin, I've... I've loved you for a long while and... and if you wanna be in a relationship, that's amazing - but... but if not, that's amazing, too."
"I do," Marvin assured softly. "Just... as long as we can take things slow."
"Slow is fine by me," you agreed. "I think I should remake our coffee, though... it's probably gone cold."
"Later," he pleaded gently. "But remember-"
"No sugar," you grinned. "I know."
17 notes · View notes
luvskywxlker · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
I need him to use me until I am too exhausted to move, run me a nice bubble bath and tuck me in cuddle with me and kiss me goodnight and hold me all through the night and play with my hair
hhhh to be treated like a princessssss🫶🎀
188 notes · View notes