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msnmnt · 11 days ago

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Say Her Name Again

Notes: this is shamelessly inspired by yesterday’s appearance of angry Mason 🫣

Summary: When Mason hears Y/N’s cheating ex disrespecting her at a club, he can’t help his protective instincts from taking over. When she finds out how he stood up for her in a way no one ever has before, old wounds can finally begin to heal…

Y/N had always liked Manchester in the spring. The rain felt softer somehow, and the air carried that crisp, in-between scent of new beginnings. The sun lingered a little longer in the evenings, casting warm light over the buildings, and the city slowly began to feel less grey, less heavy. It felt like a new chapter when she moved here six months ago - alone, fresh out of a brutal breakup and desperate for something that didn’t remind her of him.

Calum.

The name still made her stomach twist, though less now than it used to. He'd cheated, lied and broke her down piece by piece until there wasn’t much left of the confident, light-hearted girl she used to be. But Manchester had given her a new start - and, unexpectedly, a new circle of friends who had become like home.

Lucie had been her first friend here. They met at a PR networking event, bonded over cocktails and bad bosses, and never really looked back. Lucie had introduced her to Rasmus, her boyfriend, and the rest of his footballer friends. That’s how Y/N met Mason.

Golden boy. All charm and sharp jawlines and eyes that had a habit of watching her like he was trying to figure her out. From the beginning, there had been something electric in the way they spoke - banter too flirtatious to be entirely innocent, lingering glances across crowded rooms. But neither of them had crossed the line. Not yet.

Tonight, the rest of the group had gone to a swanky club to celebrate a sponsorship event for Rasmus. Y/N was supposed to go, but she’d been caught late on a last-minute crisis with one of her clients. By the time she got home, she was too drained to change into heels and pretend to laugh at half-heard jokes. She'd sent a quick text to Lucie - Sorry babe, can’t make it. Work’s been hell. Tell Mase to behave xx - and curled up on the sofa with a blanket and her laptop.

She had no idea how much that night would unravel without her there.

The club pulsed with lights and movement, thick with the scent of expensive perfume and overpriced liquor. Mason leaned against the bar, nursing a coke that he wasn’t really drinking. His eyes kept drifting around the room, as if he was waiting for someone - though he knew she wasn’t coming.

Rasmus clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Mate, stop pouting. She’s not ghosting you, she’s just working.”

“I’m not pouting,” Mason muttered, though he clearly was.

“She literally texted Lucie saying ‘tell Mason to behave’,” Rasmus said with a laugh. “That’s flirting.”

Mason didn’t respond, just shook his head with a wry smile, glancing over the crowd again. And that’s when he saw it.

Lucie. Talking to some guy.

But she wasn’t just talking she was going off on him. Her voice was raised, her hands animated, her entire posture taut like a spring ready to snap. Her perfectly manicured nails pointing and gesturing as she spoke.

Mason recognised the guy instantly.

Mason had never met him, but he’d seen pictures. Heard the stories. The damage he’d done to Y/N had rippled through every moment Mason had shared with her since. The way she flinched slightly when someone raised their voice, how guarded she was, even when she laughed. How she never spoke about her past unless she was tipsy and avoiding eye contact.

Mason’s face tightened.

He handed his glass off to Rasmus without a word and cut across the room, zeroing in on the conversation like a storm cloud.

“Everything alright over here?” he asked, voice low, controlled.

Lucie didn’t look away from Calum. “Just catching up with an old friend.” She bit out.

Calum turned, and recognition flickered in his eyes. “Mason Mount,” he said, that smug grin sliding into place like it lived there. “Didn’t realise Lucie was stepping out on her boyfriend with you.”

Lucie’s mouth dropped open. “You’re disgusting.”

Mason didn’t take the bait. He just tilted his head, eyes scanning Calum with quiet contempt. “You’re Calum.” His stupid slicked back hair only confirming it was definitely him.

“And you’re what, Y/N’s new project?”

Mason ran a hand through his hair, slow and deliberate. “No,” he said coolly. “Just a guy who thinks she was way too good for you.”

That smile vanished for a split second. Calum leaned in, smirking again, meaner this time. “If you're trying to bed her, mate, good luck. She's not as easy as she acts. And trust me - once you get past all the emotional baggage? Not worth it.”

Time slowed and Mason’s jaw clenched. He stepped forward in one sharp movement and shoved Calum hard in the chest, sending him stumbling back into the wall. The sound echoed like a drumbeat, lost beneath the bass of the music.

Lucie gasped. “Mason!”

“You need to shut the fuck up,” Mason said, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to talk about her. Not like that, not ever.”

Calum recovered quickly, straightening himself up, eyes gleaming. “Didn’t know she had a little guard dog now.”

Mason shook his head again, laughing under his breath, cocky and seething. “Say one more word. Go on.”

And Calum, arrogant and oblivious, did.

“She’s not worth fighting for, mate. You’ll learn that the hard way.”

Mason didn’t think. He grabbed Calum by the collar and shoved him back again, this time harder. Lucie stepped between them, palm on Mason’s chest.

“Mason, enough!�� People had begun to look, and Lucie knew Mason didn't need this getting out there.

His breath came fast, fists clenched, eyes still locked on Calum. Then, slowly, he backed off. “She is worth it,” said simply. “You’ll never understand that. She was too good for you, and you’re scum for the way you talk about her.”

Calum's smugness faltered for a split second before it flicked back into place. “Touched a nerve, did I?”

“If I ever hear you say her name again,” Mason said, stepping in, voice colder now, “you’ll wish all I did was shove you.”

Security started glancing over and Lucie touched Mason’s arm. “Come on.”

Mason’s blood was boiling, knuckles tingling, but he let Lucie pull him back, Calum still laughing as they walked away.

It was just past midnight when the knock came.

Y/N jumped slightly, startled by the sudden sound. She’d been curled up on the sofa, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, the soft hum of her kettle the only noise in the quiet flat. Her hair was still damp from her shower, her makeup from the day long wiped away. She hadn’t expected anyone at this hour - least of all Mason.

When she opened the door, her heart lurched.

“Mason?”

He looked tired, flushed from the cold, his jacket slightly damp from the drizzle outside. His hair was a little messy, like he’d been running his hand through it, and his jaw was tense, eyes flicking across her face like he needed to see her to calm down.

“Hi,” he said quietly. “I… I wasn’t sure if I should come.”

Y/N blinked. “Is everything okay?”

He hesitated, then nodded once. “Yeah. Just… Can I come in?”

She stepped aside immediately, still trying to process his sudden appearance. The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence settled thick between them.

Mason glanced around, taking in the soft light of the living room, the blanket draped across the couch, the mug of half-finished tea on the coffee table. “You were up,” he murmured, more to himself than her.

“I don’t sleep well after working late. Need time to unwind and all that.” She replied softly, watching him. “You okay?”

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. He couldn’t make small talk any longer. “I saw him tonight. Calum.”

The name hit like a stone and her stomach dropped.

She didn’t move, didn’t even blink. “Where?”

“At the club. He came over when he saw Lucie. She was going in on him.”

Y/N’s lips parted, but no words came out. She wanted to ask what on earth he was doing up here. With the groups of people he always hung around with, or rather latched himself onto, it shouldn’t have came as that much of a surprise. But the thought of him and Mason coming face to face made Y/N feel sick.

“He said some things…” Mason continued. “About you. About Lucie. Just… really vile shit.”

She closed her eyes for a second, embarrassment blooming hot across her cheeks. “Wh… what did he say?” She asked sheepishly.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Her eyes opened again. “Mason-”

“I didn’t let him get far. I shoved him.”

Her breath caught. “Wait… what?”

“I lost it,” he admitted, voice raw. “He was running his mouth, and I told him to stop. Told him he didn’t deserve to say your name. And when he didn’t - when he started talking about you like you were just some -“ He cut himself off, jaw tightening as he swallowed hard. “I just… snapped.”

Y/N stood frozen in the middle of her living room, one hand resting on the edge of the sofa for balance. Her heart was pounding so loud it echoed in her ears.

She looked up at him, searching his face. “Why would you do that?”

Mason stepped closer until he was right in front of her. “Because I care about you.” He took a breath. “And hearing that prick talk about you like you were disposable made me want to break something.”

“Did he fight back?” she asked, quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

Mason gave a small, bitter laugh. “He didn’t get the chance.”

She exhaled shakily, cheeks flushed with a hundred different emotions - shock, guilt, warmth, something sharp and aching in her chest.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Mason said, stepping closer. “I did.”

His voice was softer now, like it cracked a little around the edges. He wasn’t angry anymore - he was just.. there. Solid and steady and looking at her like she mattered. Like he meant every word he was about to say.

“I know I probably crossed a line. I don’t usually get like that. But the second he started talking about you like you were nothing… I couldn’t breathe. I couldn't stand it.”

Y/N’s throat was tight. “Why?”

“Because I care about you. Because I like you, Y/N.” He said, with no hesitation this time. “And hearing someone reduce you like that… it made me feel sick. You don’t deserve to be spoken about like that. Especially not after everything he did to you.”

She turned toward him, slowly, and for the first time since he’d arrived, she really looked at him. She saw the faint red on his knuckles, the worry in his eyes. The heat behind it all.

Her eyes burned so she blinked fast, refusing to let tears fall. “You don’t know everything.”

“I know enough,” he said quietly. “I know he broke something in you, and you’ve been pretending it doesn’t still hurt. I see it when you smile, but your eyes stay guarded. I see it when you pull away just when things start to feel real.”

She didn’t respond. Her fingers were trembling where they clutched the hem of her sleeve.

“I’m not him,” Mason added, stepping even closer, until there was only a breath between them. “I would never let anyone speak about you like that. Not while I’m around.”

Y/N’s tummy swarmed with butterflies at his words, his eyes flickering to his - stormy, serious, searching.

“I don’t know what this is,” she said quietly. “Us.”

Mason’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Neither do I. But I know what it isn’t. It’s not casual. It’s not nothing.”

Her breath hitched.

“Let me prove that to you,” he said. “Not just with words. With time. With patience.”

The silence stretched between them, fragile and full.

And then, without fully deciding to, she stepped forward and kissed him.

It was slow, gentle and latest no more than a few moments - but it fully ignited the spark the pair could no longer ignore. Her fingers curled lightly into the front of his hoodie, and his hands hovered at her waist like he didn’t want to push too far. When they pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed and her heart was pounding, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like it was beating for the right reasons.

Mason rested his forehead lightly against hers.

“I mean it,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. Okay?”

She nodded, just once, truly believing the words he was saying. “Okay.”

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount x you #mason mount fluff #mason mount blurb #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #mason mount angst

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fast-burn · 4 months ago

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Maxiel + 14. Sloppy seconds !!

i think this is maybe my most requested kink 😂 but you gotta give the people what they want! hope you don't mind if i add background garage gangbang into this (and also cw for drug use reference, off-screen)

kink list here

XXX

Generally Daniel tries not to live with regrets, but he's a little miffed that the whole thing with Max's mechanics began after he left Red Bull. Granted, it couldn't have started before. The concept of Max coming off his first race and his first win getting gangbanged within an inch of his life is something Daniel avoids thinking about like someone might avoid grasping a hot poker. That whole idea is just--well yeah, better not.

Still though, it's like Red Bull didn't start having real fun until Daniel was out of the picture. Not that Daniel would have joined or anything, but it would have been nice to have the invitation.

Daniel is in the hotel lobby, late, buying chamomile tea from the bar instead of room service because--he doesn't know. Better to put a couple euros on his credit card rather than charging it to the team? He's just in time to see GP and Calum walk in with Max propped up between them. They each have an arm around his curved waist. Max moves sluggishly, but he seems happy. Downright blissful. They carry him to the elevator and Daniel holds out his AmEx to tap it against the machine.

It takes maybe three minutes of Daniel being back in his own room before he's texting Max.

you good?

yes very good is Max's reply, almost immediately.

Daniel bites his lip. His mind is blank.

wanna come up and watch a movie or something? can't sleep

lol netflix and chill? Max asks, and well that's not-not what Daniel meant. He totally gets if Max is too tired for it. Hardly a big deal.

He says up to you, we can just hang if you want, and then rm 1220.

Daniel sips his tea and then goes to brush his teeth. He's rearranging his curls, trying to make them look fuller, when finally Max knocks on the door.

"Hi Daniel," he says, leaning in the doorway, eyes half-lidded, body swaying like he's drunk. He isn't drunk. He's probably taken a ton of poppers, but now he's genuinely just tired, the effects long since worn off. Daniel scoops him into the room.

Max is easy to direct to the bed, and as soon as he lays down he starts kicking off his shoes, toes prying down the heels before he flicks his ankles and nearly launches them at the goddamn TV. He smiles up at Daniel, the stretch of his mouth a shiny with a smear of lip balm and sore-looking in the corners. He makes grabby hands until Daniel crawls on top of him. Cute. The last time they did this, Max said he always wanted a breather after it all, but once he cooled down he wanted the weight of something anchoring him. Daniel isn't particularly heavy, but he's happy to provide in whatever way he can.

"I don't think I can come again," Max says, rubbing his face against Daniel's neck. His stubble is so scratchy-rough-good, dragging against the grain of Daniel's own beard, that Daniel shivers over and over. "But I'm not ready to sleep yet."

"Lucky me," says Daniel. "You wanna talk about it?"

Max makes a vague noise, but then he gives Daniel the post-gangbang report in broad strokes. They put several big packing blankets down on the garage floor, they took turns, they made sure his holes were always full, they cleaned him up when they were done. Daniel is hard when Max finally snuffles into Daniel's collar and says, "That's all, just the usual. Pretty simple stuff."

The pictures flashing through Daniel's mind aren't simple at all. It's like that guy with the painting of the staircases, tangled up in all different angles. He grinds his dick against the bed in the soft, open vee of Max's legs.

"I don't think I--" Max starts.

Daniel interrupts him. "No. No, I know."

"You would be very nice, Daniel. It's not you that is the problem."

It's twelve to fifteen guys other than me, Daniel thinks to himself, then chastises himself for being jealous. They're not a couple, and Max loves these nights. It makes him feel connected to everyone. It makes him feel so satisfied that he has to be hand-delivered back to the hotel, poured into Daniel's bed to sleep it off for eight hours.

"Can I just take a look?" He asks instead, and Max nods, twists in Daniel's arms until he's flat on his stomach.

"I won't fall asleep," Max promises.

"You can if you want. It was a big day." Daniel tugs Max's soft pants down: Red Bull-branded sweats. It was probably impossible to get him back into his tight jeans, afterwards.

The skin on Max's arse and thighs is red-hot, spanked all over, but nothing looks bruised. Daniel skims his hands across, barely touching but Max still squirms against the sensation. The mechanics clearly love Max so much. They give him exactly what he needs and nothing more, always working together like a well-oiled machine even when said machine is a train they're running on Max.

Daniel slides his thumbs between Max's cheeks, starting from his taint and un-zippering upward, spreading Max so Daniel can inspect the damage. Someone has cleaned him up, got him all sorted out. His hole is like a halved cherry, like Max's lips when he's been biting them, all puffy and used and raw. Daniel can't help but press his face into it.

Max whines lightly when Daniel licks across his hole. He tastes like antiseptic and aloe, and beneath that copper and salt and the undeniable flavour of latex. "Everybody wrapped up?" Daniel asks, almost directly into Max's arsehole.

"Yes, of course," Max says. "It would be too messy if they didn't."

And there's another thought Daniel shouldn't have: Max so full of sperm that he's leaking down his crack and across his balls, all of it mixed together into a mystery sludge, and Daniel could suck every drop out of him.

"You can come on me, though, if you want," Max offers then, and Daniel doesn't need to be told twice.

Daniel kisses up Max's spine and shoves his hand into his own pants, pulls his dick out and strips it fast. He can't be bothered for finesse, suddenly on the edge, totally desperate. "They really got you good, huh?" He asks, mouthing Max's shoulders, his neck, the shell of his ear the same colour as his slapped arse.

"Mm hm," Max murmurs, face mashed into Daniel's pillow. He's gonna pass out any moment. "It was so lovely, Daniel. I wish I could just get fucked like that all the time, but then it wouldn't be special. I can still feel them all, inside. Like they are still doing it. Here, feel," he says, and pulls Daniel's free hand back to his hole just in time for Daniel to feel it pulse and throb against the tips of his fingers, a needy little mouth. And Daniel feeds it, striping Max's back and thighs and arse with his release as he comes.

#maxiel #sorry if the ending is sudden!! i got tired of writing it and this is just for fun anyways #it.......is what it is #i know that sounds horribly self-deprecating but please trust me it's not a critique i'm trying to let go of perfectionism #i'm also tired of writing the word arse. i hate the word arse. how do you all stand it?#kink prompts

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