millyswife
14 posts
Latest Posts by millyswife
so much care put into housing this aging spider. why are my eyes wet
(tiktok link)
⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼wc. 2216🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆
“Really feel the pottery in your hands. Feel the clay as you shape it.”
The sound of the teacher is drowned out, your attention on Mark and literally, only Mark.
Your nipples are pebbled, charcoal pencil between your teeth as you watch the muscles of his forearms flex with each movement of his hands. His wet, messy hands that shape clay so sensually. God, your palms are already sweaty.
You’ve long abandoned your art project, your incomplete drawing remaining just that. Incomplete.
And you feel your belly dip inward when you watch his middle and ring finger push into the centre of where the hole of whatever pot he’s making. And you nearly moan when he shifts his position, his arm reaching into the pot to shape the inside.
You feel like a pervert. A creep. A weirdo.
Like if Mark didn’t know you, he’d move to walk on the side of the street furthest from you, because your thighs are pressing together with each gentle circle he makes to the outside of the pot, middle finger pressing into the malleable clay to form patterns.
And you cover your lips with your fingers, dragging them down your chin as you try to grab a hold of yourself.
Mark glances towards you, a snort falling from his lips before he motions to your mouth, and your brows knit. Before reaching into your pencil case, pulling out a compact mirror and you grimace.
Charcoal smeared like a fucking goatee.
You rifle through your bag, pulling out a small package of tissues before you wipe at your face, checking your reflection to make sure you’re getting all of it.
“Young lady,” the teacher’s voice breaks your concentration and she looks down at you, “less vanity, more drawing.” And she plucks the compact from your hand, before continuing to walk between the aisles of students.
Looking between their different projects and you feel the back of your neck burn with embarrassment as well as annoyance.
“Dirty old bitch.”
𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒
“You weren’t there to stop me from making an ass of myself, you dildo.” You hiss, watching as William continues to clean away the barely perceptible streaks of charcoal from your chin.
“I told you to take welding.” He huffs. “Only way you can make an ass of yourself there is if you lose a finger.”
You glance towards your reflection in the bathroom mirror, only satisfied once you’ve reapplied your lip liner, as well as your gloss.
And William steps out of the bathroom first, before backtracking, turns to you. And he presses his palm against your mouth, smearing your lip combo across your face.
“Oh no. Guess we’ll have to stay here for a while longer. Shucks.” William sighs, dramatic and you seethe. “You asshole. What’s so—”
You poke your head out of the bathroom, your eyes widening.
“She’s literally never even acknowledged his existence unless he’s validating one of her stupid opinions!” You hiss. “The fuck does she want with him?”
Your hisses are whispered and William shrugs, wiping at your lips before reaching into your pocket, pulling out your lip combo.
“I don’t know but it’s probably just—”
“William, she’s touching his arm. Oh, God, the world is spinning and I’m smelling pennies.” You groan, leaning back against the cool frame of the door and your hand moves to clutch at your heart over your shirt.
“Someone took my bitch, Willy.” You whimper, bringing your fist up to your mouth, teeth digging into the flesh as you bite down on your knuckles.
“I’m gonna end up on Channel 5, I just know it.”
William watches Amber and Mark, seeing the way Mark smiles. All sweet and bubbly, watching the way Amber laughs and the hand on Mark’s shoulder gives a nice, lingering squeeze.
“No, no one’s taking your bitch. I promise. Look at me.” William reassures, before his hands move to cradle your face, forcing you to look at him.
“Look. At. Me.” He takes a breath. “That is your man. You’ve listened to Seance Dog lore for fucking hours. No one deserves to ride that… Awkward, socially anxious… Permanently stressed… nerdy pony more than you.”
“You’re really bad at— oh, Willy, she’s really close. Girl, I’m gonna crash out.”
And William huffs.
“Amber doesn’t have shit on you. So what if she’s pretty, and smart and she always smells like the Bahamas. Or actually like... More specifically a daiquiri I had when I was eight and my family went there for vacation. But listen to me."
William forces you to look deep into his eyes.
"She does not have shit on you."
And you glance back at Amber and Mark, your spirit crumbling like a cookie when you see the way she pats his chest, her hand lingering and sliding just a bit to ghost over his abs as she passes him. And you nearly throw up.
"William, is this what Beyoncé felt like?"
"Yes." William answers immediately. "But this is your Lemonade moment. Babe, look at me."
And William sighs, his tone almost sympathetic as he whispers to you, "We be all night."
⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆
"Don't be an asshole. Get me a job here." Mark whines, brows knitted into a furrowing frown as he watches you weave between customerw and aisles, continuing to restock various shelves of comic books and paraphernalia.
"No, you're like, one of the biggest customers. Every time you buy a comic book, that's a dollar added to my end of year bonus." You cross your arm over one another, ignoring Mark as he trails behind you, plopping down in the chair near the register and he continues to nurse his Slurpee.
"What are you even gonna use the money for? My mom buys your groceries." Mark huffs and you whistle.
"Wow. First of all. The money my parents send me goes into my college fund, and secondly, your mom forcefully buys my shit. And thirdly, I pay her back." You defend.
"How?"
"I do her hair, I mow your lawn, I wash her car in jean shorts and a backwards baseball cap, not to mention, when she works from home, I'm her assistant."
And Mark scoffs. "You just bring her snacks and take her calls."
"Because her own son doesn't even wanna feed his loving mother."
Mark can barely muster a response, his jaw going slack at your retort and it takes him a few moments to recuperate. "How dare y—"
"I dare easily."
Mark rolls his eyes, pink lips wrapping around his straw once again as he watches you interact with customers. You've got the sweetest smile, pointing out which comic franchise each aisle is dedicated to. And his eyes fall to where your palms are braced on the glass counter, limited edition comics displayed underneath and he watches the way your manicured nails tap at the glass absentmindedly.
You've got pretty hands.
Nice fingers, well kept and the softest palms, and you always know how to accessorize without looking tacky.
And he clears his throat.
"You got that limited edition Seance Dog yet?"
"Yeah, but can you afford it?"
And Mark scoffs. "How much?"
"110." You raise a brow in amusement when you watch Mark swallow heavy, his Adam's apple bobbing. Before he purses his lips. "And you can't hold it for me?" And you shake your head, lips tugged downwards into a mock sympathy expression.
"You know, I can buy it for you. But then I need a favour." You lean forward, elbows braced on the counter and Mark's pretty sure his ears stop working because all he can focus on, is how that pretty pendant dangles from your neck, right above your cleavage. You're giving him the minimal view down your shirt, and he's acting like a damn dog.
"Uh huh?" He squeaks out.
"Everytime I change my sheets, I want you to put the fitted sheet on my mattress." You cross your arms over your chest. "No matter where you are, what you're doing, who you're with."
"Deal!"
⋆⑅˚₊୨🌻🌼🪻୧₊˚⑅⋆
"You spent... A hundred and ten dollars... On a picture book?" Debbie deadpans, eyes narrowing at you from behind cucumber slices, her hand in yours as you continue to file at her nails. She rests back in the recliner, her legs stretched out, foam separaters between her toes as she allows herself to be pampered.
"It's a Seance Dog comic." You hum. "It's got like... Extra panels as to how he became like... Seance Dog. I don't know why, but Mark seems to like it."
And she lets out a breath.
"What even—" "He's an anthropomorphic dog. And he's kinda based on Doctor Strange. Like, costume wise."
"Who?"
"It's a Marvel character. He's like, a wizard."
"Then why's he called 'doctor'?"
"Because he's a doctor."
"Then why is he still a wizard?"
"Because he's a surgeon and a wizard."
"Do his parents know he's running around in a cape?"
"I think his parents are dead, Miss Debbie."
And she winces. "Died of shame?"
"No..." You snort. "They don't really... Go into much detail about that. Or they do, I don't know. I'm not very into Marvel."
And Debbie lets out a quiet sigh, toes flexing and she lifts one of the slices from her eyes, glancing towards where you're busy with her nails.
"Could we try an almond shape? A little bit longer." You note the way it's hard for her to meet your gaze and you gasp.
"Miss Deborah, you dirty dog." You snicker. "Gel build?"
And she nods her head. "The nude pink."
"Can I expect Mark sleep—"
"Without a doubt."
"God—" Mark pants. "Are you just randomly helping people put up water towers?"
"No." Nolan hums, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Mark steady the metallic storage item. "However, these people needed help and you were in the area."
"You were too."
"Who's the hero and who's the rookie?"
And Mark huffs, arms crossed over his chest before his phone buzzes in his suit and Mark fishes the device out of his pocket.
Number 1⭐: 'your mom's gonna get her 🐱 ate'.
He stares at the text, his expression faltering before he stares at Nolan, his lips pressing into a thin line that slowly morphs into a grimace. The longer he stares at his father, the more his expression crumples.
And the more his expression crumples, the wider Nolan grins, already having a mild idea of what the text read.
"You know, you ought to marry a girl like that." Nolan hums. "Smart, funny, likeable."
"She's a massive dick." Mark huffs, sliding his phone back into his pocket before he crosses his arms over his chest. Lips tugged into a disgruntled frown.
"That falls under 'funny', son." Nolan states.
"Well, that's too bad. I've already got a girl I like. Her name's Amber and—"
"Can Amber fight, Mark?"
The question is abrupt and Mark's brows knit in confusion.
"Huh? I— I don't— I'm not sure."
"Cause Amber's gonna need to." Nolan states. "At some point... in the near future."
"Why would Amber need to know how to fight?"
"Because, Mark, one day, she'll need to." And he coughs. "One day soon."
"Soon?!"
"Well... Soon by Viltrumite standards."
⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆
Mark spends yet another night in your company, his shoulder against yours as you both stare up at your ceiling. Phones on charge, the lights shut off and the only other light being the slivers of moonlight that creep through your curtains.
"You know, you never told me your hero name." You state softly, your voice just as quiet as the raindrops that patter down onto the grass outside, pelting against your window and Mark hums quietly.
His hair's damp from his shower, his broad shoulders stretching yet another of your shirts although this time, it's an 'I Heart GILFS' T-shirt.
"Invincible."
There's a quiet silence between you and Mark glances towards you, only to see you already looking at him. Your expression is blank, unreadable and he can't fight the laughter that bubbles from his lips when you turn your back to him.
Pulling the covers up to your chin.
"Oh come on, it's not bad!" Mark giggles, a muscular arm wrapping around your waist and he pulls you towards him.
And the room gets quiet for a wholenew reason.
The warmth of his body is intense, the way his breath fans across your neck and the way his fingertips press into the softness of your belly.
And he dips his head, lips ghosting over your jaw as he cranes to meet your gaze.
He's grinning, dimples in his cheeks and shadows playing on his features.
"You're just jealous."
"Jealous of what, Vincible?"
"Jealous of my aweso— man, fuck you."
T🌼A🌼G🌼L🌼I🌼S🌼T
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Yet you’ve leaked personal information of MULTIPLE players… you are so hypocritical and love to play victim
Spotted: Looks like someone's taking shots but can't handle the heat. Are you slow or just stupid? Let’s set the record straight: I didn’t leak anything. Sharing hangout spots isn’t on the same level as leaking someone’s actual personal information, you know, like stalking rumored girlfriends to find their workplaces and encourage harassment. Many girls have been driven to privatize their Instagrams because of this sick behavior. It’s a real problem, especially for the girls associated with Luke.
Anything shared with me by anons when I first started this blog, which I thought was too personal, was promptly deleted. I took responsibility for my mistakes..even issued an apology and moved on. Honestly, for someone who claims to be a ‘lurker,’ you’re pretty terrible at it. Your obsession with Puckingtea is glaring, and it doesn’t look good on you.
Let’s talk about the truth: Puckingtea has a history of doxxing bloggers and players, and it’s been called out multiple times. I’m not playing the victim here – this is a gossip blog, not high school drama. Grow up, face the facts, and stop spreading false accusations. Leaking 'multiple' pieces of information? Please, you’re just embarrassing yourself. So before you throw more baseless accusations my way, remember: I'm not the one spreading rumors like a middle schooler. Get your facts straight and stop projecting your own issues onto me. XOXO 💋
Happiness Will Come To You.
good things will happen 🧿
things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿
This is Money Snake. She only appears every 312 years.
If you reblog her picture within the next twenty-five seconds you will have good luck and fortune for the rest of your life.
Reblog for a miracle to happen tonight
reblog the money pigeon for a financially stable future
