#hes so cute to me (snotty whimpering mess) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugarbbgrl · 9 months

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rlly been on a price kick today, there’s just something abt peepaw yall X3

dom!price x gn!reader (still fem in a way)

cw: dumbification (?), pet names, face fucking, corruption (?), dacryphilia, cum on face, slight cock warm, oral (m receiving)

did not proof read so don’t kill me hehe

MDNI ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

dom!biker!price hnnnggggggg

you’re like his little dolly and a stark contrast to the burly man. while he wears black clothing and his cut (biker vest), you love your pink and white. you love wearing little skirts and dresses even though price scolds you for wearing them on his bike; he doesn’t want you scarring up your pretty legs from the burning exhaust pipe.

and when you do burn yourself because you don’t listen, he’s so nice, yet so mean at the same time. “see, now look what you did, sweetheart. didn’t i tell you what would happen to you if you didn’t listen doll?” all the while he’s rubbing burn cream on your wounds and kissing your pretty little tears away. “gotta start learning to listen to me, i know what’s best for you, bun.”

your tears fuel him, they cause his cock to harden almost immediately; it’s not your fault your doe eyes look so beautiful all watery. “i know of something to make my princess feel better.” his member springs free from his dark jeans, pumping himself a few times before tapping the tip against your pouty lips.

“open up, baby.” he coaxes you in a hushed tone, his other hand caressing your chin and jaw. his thumb runs over your bottom lip, opening it slightly. you keep your eyes trained on his, tear stained cheeks tinted red as you open your mouth up more for his to slide into.

“that wasn’t so hard now was it?” price smirks, sliding the tip passed your plump lips. without warning, his hand is on the back of your head and his meaty cock is swallowed whole by your throat. “mmm, such a good girl for me.” your eyes well up once more in your eyes with his balls against your chin, getting wet from the salty tears running down your face. he just sits there, his other hand still caressing your jaw as he cock warms himself with your throat.

once he starts moving, he’s not rough: price likes a gentle face fuck. him slowly pulling out of your mouth fully before slowly pushing himself back in, a guttural moan erupting from him. he forces your eyes to keep to his, he loves your tears and slightly snotty nose. drool begins to gather around the sides of your mouth, threatening to spill over.

“my beautiful little cock sleeve.” he praises you, the hand in the back of your head now petting the hair on top of it. “i love making my pretty baby dumb, the only thought in your head is to please me.” his thrusting becoming a little rougher, but not so much that it’s impossible for him to control. he makes little pigtails with your hair, gripping at them as he watches you take his length so good in your wet mouth.

his breathing picks up, his cock twitches briefly before he pulls out of you mouth completely. you whimper at the loss of him in your mouth, a pretty pout resting in your lips as you peer up at him through your lashes. just the sight of you—messy hair, swollen lips, teary eyes and a cute pout on your lips is enough to make price just right there.

“what? does princess want to keep being used up?” price chuckles, a tinge of deviance laced in his words. he slide his cock past your lips again and throws his head back with a growl. “taking me so good, bun.” his hips snap, causing you to harshly gag around his solid cock. his hand go back to your head and picks up his pace quicker than before.

“good girls get rewards, especially the cock drunk ones on their knees for me.” you continue to look up at him, you face is a mess with mascara and black tears spreading down your reddened cheeks. you breathe harshly through your nose as price is now fucking your face mercilessly, his balls growing tighter as he reaches his end.

“fucking christ, doll.” his thrusts becoming sloppier and his moans gruffer, you could feel the base of his dick twitch against your tongue. before you can register it, hot spurts of cum force their way down your throat, gagging you once more. before it’s all gone, price quickly pulls out and jerks himself in front of your face. splashes of his load land on your cheeks, chin, and tongue.

“look at my baby, all cute covered in my seed.” he breaths out, finally finishing up his high. your doe eyes study his face: blown out pupils and sweat dripping down his forehead as he admires the art before him.

you’re his dumb little doll, nothing makes the older man happier to see what he’s created before him: a precious dumb girl ready for him in every way.

#call of duty #john price #cod mw2 #captain price x you #captain john price #captain price smut #captain price headcanons #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #könig mw2 #ghost riley

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quandaryqueen · 2 years

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Wake up alone

Gotham Edward Nygma X Reader

What's supposed to be a good day, takes a turn the moment he woke up alone.

Edward Nygma woke up feeling rejuvenated for the day. My, in all his days, this way maybe the first time his bouts of insomnia did not decide to hit him full-force today.

He looked to his side to see his sleeping partner, their back turned against him and huddled beneath the blanket. The man felt a certain giddiness in his chest, a smile crossing his features first thing in the morning at the sight of you.

What a cute little thing, wrapped from head to toe. Were you that cold? Ah, maybe he should have turned the thermostat after all and ignore your insistence. You have always been so polite.

He pulls you to his chest by draping his arm on you, peeling the cover of your head. God knows if you can even breathe under that thing. He steal a kiss in your temple, nuzzling his cheek against your head with a content look.

You look so peaceful, just sleeping and undisturbed. So serene, so cute, so still...

Still...

Still?

Nygma's eyes flew wide open in panic and in the haze left by the lingering sleepiness, he shot off his bed. Your name slipped from his lips out of worry, when he realised your chest was not rising nor falling under his touch. Your name slips again in a silent whisper, a whimper, as he approached with wary.

His trembling hand held your shoulder and turned you over.

"No... No... No..." Edward shook his head, the reservoir in his eyes bursting uncontrollably. "Not again please..."

"Good morning sleeping beauty~"

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM?!"

Edward's blurred vision scan your body, Rigor Mortis has yet to occur meaning your death had transpired mere moments after the pathologist woke up. He was forced to recognise there were outlines of fingers— his fingers— on your neck, is when he found out The Riddler got out of control again.

"No-no-no-no-no, please god no!" He cradles you against his body, tears dripping from his eyes and into your face. Through hiccups and profuse apologies, his thumb ran across your cheeks to erase the tears that fell upon his lashes. "Y/N, I'm so sorry, please, oh god—"

"Ugh, look at yourself. Who would be scared if you're all snotty?"

The Riddler didn't like you all that much— always so fucking obnoxious with you and your soft heart, influencing the weak-willed that is Edward Nygma. And for once, the Riddler thought that Ed would have learned after Kristen, after Isabella, after Oswald, after Lee and goddamn it, now you—!

"I am so sorry, Y/N. Please forgive me, god please I love you!"

The display was making the Riddler sick, he could throw up. All he wanted was to paint Gotham with questions and enigma, and riddles and puzzles, he is a man with simple needs and wants, why did you have to come along? Riddler made sure Edward will never be ever coming back, what substance did you concoct to bring him back again?

It's been long since the Riddler has spread terror against the morose city, but no, Eddie had to play Mr. Goodie-two-shoes to woo you. The alter ego wanted to stretch his legs out so bad that he would get between the relationship of Edward and you, if that's what it takes. And did so, successfully. Now the obstacle is gone, time to strap a bomb I'm some random kid's backpack liek he always wanted.

"Tsk, look at you." The Riddler points at Edward with a condescending furrowed brows, eyes casted on the tip of his nose. Edward remains a pale mess muttering apologies, shedding tears and caressing your cold face. "We used to be so liberated, you and I were always having a blast terrorising Gotham with riddles—"

"You did! Not me! I'm not a monster!"

"I'm a part of your psyche, genius. What part of split personality disorder do you not get?" The Riddler rolls his eyes. Seriously? This again? He thought they were over it in like, season one, but he digresses. "I know all your thoughts, your subconscious... And your subconscious has always wanted to know how afraid they look when you're on top of them, with their life at your hands, their fate in your mercy..."

"No I don't... I love them, they loved me! I could never think of such a thing about them! They're the only person that truly loved me!" Edward shouts through tears, sniffing for a moment to pause. "They don't deserve this... They're irreplaceable..."

"God, you're so pathetic. I bet you said that to Kristen... Or Isabella... Or Oswald... Or Lee... Y/N's not that irreplaceable, seeing as you replace your exes almost immediately after tragedy struck." Riddler shrugs. "Sorry not sorry."

The Riddler sunk from his braven posture. God, he has been stuck in this body with the host for so long and yet he still can't stand the whiny man.

"You know what? I'mma take the wheel for the time being. You stay put."

After that, Edward blanked out of reality. He didn't come back until he realised he was worn out and covered in dirt, that's when he knew the Riddler disposed of your body... Was it weird he was thankful that the alter ego didn't do anything to your body?

"Yes, I didn't saw their hand off and put it in the vending machine. I made them a cozy bed under a bed of (favourite flowers), next to mother dearest's grave~"

What is Edward supposed to do now? Your evidence would be difficult to erase, your friends and family cared deeply about you surely they would dig around and find out—

"This is why I'm taking the reigns again. And you, stay back!"

And just like, Edward Nygma's consciousness has been dormant again.

#edward nygma x reader #edward nigma #riddler x reader #edward nygma #gotham #gotham edward nygma #gotham riddler #the riddler #fox gotham

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ciggylungz · 4 years

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Mark My Territory

Blurb night: 3.2k

(Request:harry and y/n having yatch sex and blurry pap pics get out ***) + (request: Jealous possessive Harry angsty/angry smut !!! Plsss hehe thank you ❤️)

Warnings: face spitting, painal, dominant Harry, pain kink, humiliation kink, degrading talk, mentions of other fetishes and lots of hardcore brutal smut with an appetizer of angst

Harry has always been depicted as a ‘womanizer’ , a lady killer and all other words for it, yet the people who actually have dated him know truly he’s a romantic. He isn’t a man who only flirts to get his cock sucked then leaves, he’s not a serial cheater or big ladies man. He’s truly a deeply caring, loving man and Y/n was lucky enough to be his and experience that. Yet she couldn’t deny, if Harry had one flaw within relationships it was his undeniable jealousy that could worm it’s way into his mind when he felt someone was getting a little too friendly with his girl. The man was protective and admittedly a bit possessive of his girlfriends, and while it could be appropriate at times it also could be a argument starter at other, however to y/n- angry, possessive Harry was more sexy than scary. Sometimes she may or may not bite back when he tells her who she belongs to, who’s boss and maybe, just maybe she does it to see him get riled up and take the extra step to show her that she belongs to him.

Right now Y/n has found herself in possessive Harry’s fit, they were on a little get away vacation and currently on a Yacht sailing on Jamaican waters. It was beautiful and peaceful, yet tempers rose when Harry thought the man who delivered the booze for the bar was getting a bit too cheeky with his girl.

Y/n though didn’t really notice his behavior as flirty, so it wasn’t like she was reciprocating it in the slightest but she may or may not be pushing a few of Harry’s buttons to see him get all bossy and protective over her. usually that ends with good rough sex, sloppy, dirty and so fucking hot.

“Harry! It’s not a big fucking deal why are you so mad?! He’s not even here anymore! I didn’t pay attention it’s not like when he tried to get cheeky I whipped my tits out for him. God you’re being annoying.” She was putting her sassy bratty act on, one she knew often didn’t end well for her- or rather her windpipe and cervix- both of which typically end up bruised and sore from his hand wrapped around her throat and his cock purposely smashing into it just because he knows how bad it can hurt- and bad girls need to be punished. Sometimes punishment hurts.

“Don’t talk back to me Y/n. The dude was practically eye fucking you, and you didn’t stop it! And showing him your tits? Really? You mentioning exposing yourself, why? Were you thinkin’ about doing it? That top barely cover’s yeh so how do I know you weren’t tryin’ to sneak him an eye full when my back was turned?” his tone was daring, deep and serious. He wasn’t playing around, he was like a dog protecting his territory. When he saw Y/n roll her eyes he marched towards her, his body towered over hers and his glare was threatening. The girl stood her ground though, wanting to see just how far she could push it.

“Oh shut up! You act like I dropped to my knees for that guy! Harry do you hear yourself? The man was like 70! If laying his eyes on a pretty young woman made his day, then I don’t care. It’s not like I was handing the geezer Viagra so he could get it up for me when you were in another room. Shut the fuck up already, I want to enjoy myself.”

She flipped him off before hopping into the pool, letting her entire body submerge to try and cool off her frustrated body. She didn’t have the patience for his tough guy act right now, he was being ridiculous.

When she made it back to the surface of the water she swam towards the railing on the side of the pool, leaning her body against the glass while she floated in the water, her peaceful swim was soon interrupted by a body forcing hers to turn around. Harry was standing in the pool, chest to chest with his girlfriend and he was not fucking happy with her. His eyebrows raised while he pinched her chin between his fore finger and thumb forcing her to look back at him.

“You think that little attitude you pulled back there was cute? Let me give yeh a little refresher since you seem to have forgotten important information.”

She then felt his free hand grope her left breast, roughly so the pain forced her to notice the area and pay attention to the body part-

“These tits, belong to me. No one else should be able to get a good view at them, it seems you’ve forgotten that. And this-“ the man brought his hand up to cradle the back of her head, tugging her hair harshly before continuing “- head, should only be thinking about my fucking cock. The thought of another guys prick, no matter if they’re an old creep like him, should never be inside that pretty little head of yours. You use that pretty brain to think about me. That pretty face is for me to look at, kiss, fuck and use as my cum rag. Or have you forgotten that as well?” when she only answered with big doe eyes getting into her submissive state under his spell of filth he took an opportunity to yank her locks yet again and raise an eyebrow. “You gonna answer me, or are you going to keep lookin’ at me like a brain dead whore that only I can make you?”

A muted whimpered moan came from her mouth before she spoke, “Belong to you, I’m yours Harry.” Her throat suddenly felt a bit dry, words coming out a tad bit sandy which the man noticed. “Wha’s the matter? Throat gone dry? Yea?-“ Y/n nodded never letting their gazes part “-here, let me help.” He used the fingers latched on her chin to force her mouth open, collecting his saliva before spitting it directly into her mouth with a filthy aggressive ‘spat’ noise. He kept his gaze on his spit as he watched it slide down her throat seeing the muscles constrict when she swallowed it fully, a desperate whine coming out of her next.

“Still thirsty, love? Throat still dry? Open-“ she complied immediately, sticking her tongue out and letting him project another collection of spit into her mouth before deciding to get filthy with her, dribbling little bits of spit on her still out tongue seeing some drip onto her chin which gave him another prompting to really make her feel dirty like her behavior was asking for, he pulled back closing her mouth for her and spat directly onto her face.

Y/n gasped a bit, of course her and Harry had done every dirty thing you can imagine. Vanilla was not in their vocabulary when it came to sex, they’d done everything from voyeurism and taboo roleplays to experimenting with knives and pee play, so this wasn’t the first time he’s spit on her face, she just wasn’t expecting it that time. Harry had watched as it started to roll from her nose and drip, her tongue darting back out of her mouth to collect the falling spit swallowing it greedily.

“I think you’re starting to remember how things work aren’t ya? You’re my little girl, you even drink from me don’t yeh? Let’s do some more refreshing, this right here-“ Harry’s large palm migrated to cup her bikini covered cunt giving it a harsh squeeze making sure to pinch her lips between his fingers for a little bit of pain added to the grip. “-this darling little cock sleeve, also is mine. I own your pussy, sweetheart. Now let’s hear you say it, go on use that little brain for m’”

Y/n was practically a puddle of mush at this point. She loved being roughed up, degraded and treated rather harshly during sex. She loved when he’d participate in that kink of hers since Harry himself thinks very highly of women, so he’s not often giving her the full ‘you’re a stupid fuck doll’ treatment. This was a treat for her, getting him so riled up he was being extra rough even verbally.

“I belong to Harry, my body is yours.” A needy whimper followed her words, hands holding onto his flexed biceps just needing to feel her man, his dominance amplifying her needy nature and submissive tendencies. The man cooed at her, giving her a little smile. “Good girl, now what else do yeh need to say to m’? hmm?”

“I’m sorry for being bad, I love you Hazzy” her lips puckered for a kiss, getting a few simple pecks from him as a reward yet she wanted more. Harry knew that fact, but he wasn’t going to cave that easily. She needed to really understand he wasn’t fucking around this time and those snotty comments about flashing herself and mentioned the old guys prick wouldn’t fly, not at all.

“I love you too, darling. I accept your apology, but you’re not off the hook yet. You were very naughty, you know better than to even mention another man getting to see what belongs to me. I don’t want to hear anything like the mess you said earlier, ever come from your mouth again. Understood?” Y/n quickly agreed, nodding her head with a ‘yes sir’ wondering where things would go from here.

“Good, now that we’re on the same page I think it’s time to move onto the consequences you’ll be facing for your behavior. Turn around.”

The girl did what she was told, the sun now starting to set as she pressed her front into the side of the pool both of their bodies still submerged in the water. She was wondering what was to come, the thrill of being outdoors already surging through her and the anticipation of whats next was killing her.

“You were awfully rude to me, petal. Not happy with yeh, so I think you’re going to get your ass fucked.”

Y/n felt her eyes go wide, she’d talked to Harry before about acceptable punishments and what she wants to receive depending on what she did. during that conversation she’d mentioned anal, but that was reserved for if she was really bad. So she knew she must have really fucking pissed him off. The girl chose anal as a severe punishment because she couldn’t come from it, and it was always painful for her but since she had a major pain kink she put it on the table of options after trying it with an ex and discovering how the sensation was a punishing one for her body.

Her head turned to look behind her, Harry flicking his eyes from the top of her spine down to where the water distorted the image of her bum. “You made me very upset, love. Hurt m’ feelings, acted like a bitch. I deserve to get off, you don’t. Goin’ ta’ use that tight little hole to teach you a lesson, and as my own personal masturbation tool for the evening. If you’re a good girl and don’t complain, I might make you feel good in the morning.”

The objectification while very much offensive in a normal setting, was unbelievably hot in this sexual one. She knew that cruel of dirty talk wasn’t for everyone, but she loved it. She loved being treated like an object after she’d been bad. She enjoyed it when Harry would use her mouth like a masturbation toy while he watched porn, not even acknowledging her when she’d been a bad girl at other times. She loved when he’d humiliate her by having her hump her pillow in front of him, somehow able to control his body enough to stay soft while he watched her so the only thing she saw was his flaccid cock making her feel like a dirty girl who couldn’t get him up. It was all consensual and had been talked about. Of course she loved soft Harry too, the delicate slow way he’d lick her cunt, the loving thrusts and making love for hours on end. She loved every version of Harry in the bedroom, but right now she was getting dominant Harry and while she knew she was about to feel like she was being split in two by his cock ramming inside her ass, she was still going to love every surge of pain going through her lower half while he moaned filthy things into her ear. The fact she could get him to cum without herself getting pleasure was a strangely erotic thing for her.

Harry’s hands brought her back from her train of thought, his fingers making quick work of her bottoms letting them untie and float off somewhere in the pool whilst he turned his attention back to her body. His large palms groped at her ass, nails digging into the plump flesh as he pulled her cheeks apart every few gropes letting the cold pool water touch the opening, the sensation making her flinch slightly at first before she started getting used to the ripples of water touching a taboo place on her body.

She felt his chest press into her bare back, face tucking into her neck as he used his teeth to tug the ties of her bikini top undone, the fabric giving way to leave her completely bare in the water. She hopes to god there isn’t a group full of paps with night vision cameras up in trees or fucking hang gliding around the boat because she doesn’t think her mom would appreciate seeing her daughter in the tabloids getting railed by her boyfriend.

His damp hair tickled the bare skin of her shoulder, his lips resting on the shell of her ear while he spoke. “Don’t you dare scream, you know the safe word if yeh need to use it. Got it? No screaming, and don’t start the tears either. Be a big girl, not gonna go easy on ya’ this time princess.”

When she felt his tip start to push against her puckered hole she did everything she could to try and keep her body relaxed so it wouldn’t be nearly as much of a struggle. One of his arms wrapped around her waist to keep her still while his other hand was gripping the tip of his cock using his knuckles to keep her ass pried open a bit to put himself inside the impossibly tight hole just begging to be torn to shreds.

Her jaw clenched with her fists as he managed to ease the tip of his cock through her puckered star, her anal muscles clamping down almost painfully tight on his cock while he gripped her hips and shoved her back on him burying himself so far inside the girl he swears his tip was banging into another organ inside the girls belly. A deep groan ripped its way through Harry’s throat, the sensation was overwhelming and the power he held in his dominant role made every fiber of his being feel like it had been ignited.

He swears he could feel the blood running through his veins, hear his eyes blinking and was hyper aware of every limb and appendage he had, his cock being the part of himself that was screaming with stimulation as he massaged himself with the inner muscles of his girl. Y/n wanted to feel ashamed at how she was getting off on the pain, not feeling anywhere close to cumming or real sexual stimulation that was pleasurable, but a mental erotic feeling. The knowledge that Harry was using her body to get off, and punish her at the same time made her mentally so turned on she knew she was adding the natural slick pouring from her peach into the water, she hopes chlorine can mask the scent of pussy juice and semen or else she’ll feel a bit sorry for the pool boy who might be fishing out the spillage of Harry’s cum into the water the next morning.

“Jesus H Christ baby, your little ass is so fuckin’ tight feel like yeh might rip my cock off…fuckin’ hell I’m close. Gonna bust so deep inside you ,you’ll be seeing parts of me coming out of you for days. My slutty little girl likes to be stuffed full of my cum doesn’t she?” Y/n moaned simply at his words alone, responding with a pitiful ‘yes sir, I love you’ to his accusation. “Aw, I know you do. Like when I use yeh like a cum rag, like to feel m’ spunk leakin out of yeh. You’re such a disgusting little girl, aren’t yeh?”

Y/n let out a pained grunt mixed with a titillated moan, nodding furiously at her boyfriends words.

“Yes! Yes I’m a nasty girl, only for you. Fuck Harry, I’m yours.” She sounded pathetic, utterly pitiful and dirty. And they both fucking loved it. Harry could feel himself nearing completion, his stamina becoming weaker and his body begging to spurt his seed into the girl and with a few more harsh thrusts leaving a lingering burn to her bottom he filled her bowel with hot, sticky ribbons of his cum.

Every bit of semen held inside his contracting balls was being unloaded into her beautiful quivering body, her nipples hard as rocks between his toying fingers and her stomach slightly distended with the pressure of his prick inside her. The sight was filthy, almost offensively so. Something you see only on the dirtiest if porn sites, ones only the most depraved kinky bastards go to, Y/n was his own little hardcore porn star in this pool and he’d never felt more primally turned on in his life.

He slowly removed himself from her, certain that without the barrier of water the exit would have made a delicious ‘pop’ when the tip of his meat finally retreated from the hole. Y/n was now catching her breath, legs shaking under the water from the forced stretch of her lower muscles her body trying to regain it’s composure as her boyfriend pulled his swim trunks back over his genitals and turned her to face him pressing her naked body into his.

“Think I can trust yeh not to be so bad anymore?” His voice was no longer as gruff, he was slowly turning back into his normal self. Y/n gave him a tired nod, kissing his butterfly and hugging him tight.

“Well lets hope for your sake I can, but for my sake I wouldn’t mind getting to abuse your ass again if yeh chose to misbehave like that again.”

#harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles concept #harry styles blurb #blurb night #harry styles writing #harry styles dom #dom!harry #rough!harry

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travellvogue · 4 years

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My Champion- Trent Alexander-Arnold

The moment you’d been preparing for had finally arrived. The love of your life has won the Premier League. The tears flooded down your face as soon as the final whistle blew for the Chelsea vs Manchester City game. Phone instantly buzzing in your hand, of course, Trent calling you from the team hotel, tears in his eyes, the widest smile making his eyes crinkle into pearls of joy. Fuzzy pixels flew around the screen as he jumped up and down with the lads, laughing in pure joy at the sound of your favourite team celebrating what they so-rightly deserved.

“Babyyyy!” his voice is muffled through the poor connection but the excitement in his tone is still so clear, nothing can dampen the pure pleasure in his tone. Bouncing around the living room with Tyler and Marcell, their arms wrapped around your shoulders, swaying back and forth as you sing You’ll Never Walk Alone. You’re a sniffling snotty mess, not that you cared one bit.

He seemed to take forever to get home, he’d texted you around ten minutes ago letting you know he was on his way back to the house.

Wanna celebrate with my favourite girl ;)

The wink spoke for itself. You’d made a poor excuse for your reasoning to sprint up the stairs towards Trent’s bedroom where you’d been living for the past few months. Of course his family weren’t stupid, the suspecting glances and wolf whistles from his brothers made your cheeks glow a bright red.

“My headphones are at the ready!” Marcell shouts up the stairs to you, forever regretting his decision to choose the bedroom with the wall that connects with Trent’s room, losing count of the amount of times he’d had to bang on the wall to remind the two of you that he was in fact trying to get some sleep.

“It’s your time to shine” you whisper, pulling the chest of drawers open and digging through the endless amounts of cute and sexy lingerie. Ranging from pretty baby pink ones Trent had bought you for Valentine’s Day, to a slightly more raunchy black lace three-piece, the memory of his birthday night coming flooding back into your mind, the butterflies in your tummy fluttering to life. Licking the corner of your lips when you finally find what you’re looking for.

It almost shimmered under the bedroom light. A deep red, velvet-like texture to the touch, the panties featured a tie up bow on the back that Trent will have the pleasure of unwrapping in just a few moments. The matching bra left little to the imagination, sheer enough to be able to expose your nipples under the material, yet opaque enough to not quite show the whole picture. He’ll love that. He’ll love the whole set, what man wouldn’t? You'd ordered it online months ago, even if the Premier League Trophy wasn’t going to be lifted by Hendo you knew you’d still get plenty of use out of it.

The time had come and every puzzle piece had fallen perfectly into place. You’d gone through about three packs of tissues already, trying to swallow down the overwhelming sense of pride and happiness for your baby.

Stop Y/N, you can’t greet him laid in bed in the most gorgeous underwear whilst in floods of tears.

Touch ups were done in the bathroom, a few pictures taken for later on whenever the time may come when you need them. Admiring the view of your own body in the mirror. One thing you’d learnt since falling in love with Trent was how to love yourself. He’d taught you that every lump and bump was just as lovable as every curve. ‘The imperfections are what sell the masterpiece’ he’d tell you. Ensuring you know that cellulite on the back of your thighs, uneven boobs, a belly that jiggles- are all parts of you that he adores.

The look was finished with a neat coat of red lipstick- one of Trent’s personal favourites. Remembering all the times you’d marked his cock with messy red prints. The rushed blow job before the annual Christmas event, the sloppy head in the bathroom whilst he fucked your face that time the two of you snuck off during a family BBQ. Now tonight would be added to the list of memories this shade held.

Laid in bed you hear the crackle of the driveway under the tires of his car as he pulls up to the house, shifting giddily in your spot on the bed, listening to the front door open and close in a rushed state. Smirking at his voice as he shouts to his family ‘I’ll be down later, just gotta do something’. Listening to his rapid footsteps thump against the stairs and the landing, approaching you with every step.

“Oh my fucking god… hello” he smirks, feeling as though the breath had been punctured out of his lungs as he soaked up the sight of you, looking picture perfect on the bed, just waiting to be destroyed. He’s quick to close the door behind him, not wanting anyone else to have the opportunity of enjoying a view that is all his.

“Hi, my champion” you smirk, beckoning him over with one finger, kneeling on the bed so you’re level with his face. His eyes flick over your body once more, feeling his cock twitch in the tightness of his shorts, pulling his shirt off quicker then you could blink. Cupping your jaw in his hands and pressing a longing kiss to your lips. It was a rare moment where you didn’t retreat away in the fear of ruining your lipstick- tonight you didn’t care- you wanted to get ruined.

“You look so gorgeous” he hums against your lips, the transfer of lipstick onto his mouth making him look so cute. “Let’s celebrate” he groans, stepping out of his shorts and pulling his boxers down, cock slapping up to his tummy with how hard he already was, the tip bright red and leaking with pre-cum.

You flick your hair over your shoulder dramatically and get onto all fours, arching your back and teasingly wiggling your bum to show off the bow that Trent had the pleasure of pulling undone. Squealing when his hand comes to spank your left ass cheek, a red hand print mark already developing from the strength of his hit. His fingers delicately wrapping around the material pulling tugging at it gently, with the bow undone, next came your panties.

“Almost too pretty to take off” he hums, grabbing your ass and spreading your cheeks in different directions, leaning down to swipe his tongue against your covered pussy, dampening it with his own saliva to add to the growing patch of wetness that had formed on the material from your arousal. Tucking his long fingers into the top of them, dragging them down so they pooled around your knees. Another spank. “Look at you…” he growls, “... dripping for m’cock aint ya?”. All you can manage is a whimper in response, every nerve in your body begging for his touch.

He grabs your hips and flips you over, finally able to remove your panties fully and fling them across the room. Now for the bra. Your nipples were hard, peeking through the material and begging for attention.

Whatever your body wants, he shall give.

Crawling over you so your body was not under his, the way you were bucking your hips to try and grind your wet pussy against any part of his body hasn't gone unnoticed. But for now his attention was on your boobs. God how he loved them, smirking against your nipple as you whine the second his lips attach to it. Tongue flicking delicately against the small bud.

“Trent please” you find yourself already begging for him, pussy clenching around nothing, hand trapped in his growing curls, back arching in desperate need for more.

“Please, what? Use your words pretty girl” the smug smirk on his face tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing. It was completely obvious what you wanted, and it was resting heavy against your thigh, throbbing for your touch- he needed you just as much as you needed him.

“Your cock baby… give me your cock” there was no way of making your voice sound less desperate, and at this point you didn’t care. His eyes look deep into yours, reaching round your body to unclip your bra. Perfect, you were naked, just how he wanted you.

“Oh, my cock huh? Who would’ve thought my little slut wanted my cock” you nearly groan in annoyance at his words, something about his confidence that had you dripping, and whining in frustration, patience is not an attribute you possessed in the bedroom. You most certainly weren’t up for waiting tonight. “Here ya go” with a smug smirk he pushes his length into you, legs instantly growing weak at the sensation. No matter how many times you’ve had sex over the past two years of your relationship, you’d never fully grown use to the size of him. It’s still a mystery to you how he can find every spot inside of you that has your toes curling, hands gripping at the sheets, and throat growing soar with the volume of your moans.

“Fuck, Trent” the string of moans can’t seem to stop flowing from your mouth as he thrusts his cock into you, growing slick with the mixture of your arousal and his pre-cum, the slick noise of his cock entering you continuously was enough to make you want to cum straight away. “Harder baby” your voice almost fails you, pleasure taking over every corner of your being. Just enough energy to plead with him for what you need.

“My baby wants it harder? Corse she does” a bush rises to your cheeks at his words. Your wish was his command. The lust and passion in the room double in that moment. His hips smashing against yours- almost certain you’ll both have bruises across your bodies tomorrow, but neither of you cared- his balls slapped against your skin, pussy clamping around him nails dragging down the skin of his back claiming you as his own.

The mixture of juices dripped down your pussy, acting as the perfect lube for his thrusts to be seamlessly smooth. Reaching your hand down and rubbing at your clit, fingers slipping with the wetness of your cunt.

“Turn over… fours” he’s breathless, barely able to string together a sentence, eyes dazed with lust and the alcohol in his system. Now his wish was your command, back to where you started, ass in the air.

The feeling of his cock rubbing against the crack between your cheeks is another for you to let out another whimpered beg, you sounded pathetic. He loved it. Angling his hips slightly so he was perfectly aligned with the entrance of your pussy. It looked like he had already cream-pied you, but it was just your juices flooding from your whole.

“Look at you, dirty whore” his accent was so thick it was hard to make out the mumble of his words. Not that you had much time to process them, his cock pushed into you once again. “Holy fuck!” he whines through the room, “Jesus fucking Christ” the pure pleasure it’s nearly too much for him to control, having to hold himself back from spilling his load inside of you right that second. He keeps thrusting into you merciless, rough and frantic. Your fingers clamping the bed sheets, nearly ripping the material in your fists. Gasping with the power of each thrust, your lungs feeling like they could explode under the pressure, hardly able to moan, throat constricting to let out a whimper, such desperation in a minuscule noise.

You feel your juices gush out of your pussy and over his cock before you can even warn him, unable to stop yourself. Screaming and whining for him, every thrust after your own orgasm helping him chase his own. Waves of pleasure drowning the two of you. His hips pressed against your body, balls pulsing as he finally reaches his orgasm. One, two, three…and four, thick heavy spurts of cum, painting your walls, completely filling your hole.

You collapse onto the bed, he nearly collapses on you. Completely breathless, exhausted, full. His cock slips out of you with a satisfying wet ‘pop’ the sheets already becoming soaked with the mixture of each other's cum. Panting replaces the moans, a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead, meeting your eyes. He told you he loved you in complete silence in that moment, the loving gaze in his brown orbs was enough to tell you a million times over. He’s lucky, he’s leaving his dream and experiencing it with his dream girl.

“I’m so proud of you” the whisper barely carries through the room, throat on fire, stinging with every word, red lipstick smudged to extinction. The tears threaten to spill again but you manage to control them, leaning in for another kiss, this time it’s slow, gentle, loving and everything he’d ever learnt since falling in love with you goes into that kiss. With your chests rising and falling you hold each other’s hand. You didn’t have to speak, pressing his lips against his skin melted your words into his body. Your baby, your love, your light- had won, his dreams and his happiness was yours.

“I love you” he hums.

“I love you too, my champion”

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold blurb #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold one shot #trent alexander arnold smut #liverpool fc #masterlist #england nt

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Two-Back

(Read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

Word count: 3406

Well. I didn’t expect to be posting this today but I need get it out of my drafts so it’ll stop haunting me.

This fic is based on personal events that happened during this month last year. It’s gone through several different rewrites before I finally settled on this version of it. It’s a vent, of sorts, I guess. Which means it’s both very close to me and quite dark at the same time. I don’t sugarcoat it, so please pay attention to the trigger warnings. If you can’t handle it, don’t read it. I wrote this more for myself, not for anyone else, but I don’t want it to go to waste, so that’s why I’m posting it.

With all that out of the way... Check the triggers, and I hope you enjoy. I love you all 💕💕

TW: Rape

——————

“Where’s Boleyn?” Snarled the man who had broken into the theater late that night.

“I’m here.” Answered his prey.

Something in her told her to say it. Deep down, she didn’t want to, but it was the only way to protect the queen. If she gave him what he wanted then he would leave. He wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Sate the hunger within and the beast would settle.

“You look different.” He said, sizing her up.

“Reincarnation sometimes changes the body.” She replied calmly, despite her mounting fear. “I thought you were smart enough to know that, Cromwell.” She knew him from his eyes- cold and hard like chunks of obsidian.

Thomas bared his teeth like a rabid wolf. His gaze is hungry. His forward stride is so quick that Joan couldn’t even think to move, but it didn’t matter anymore, because she’s pinned against the wall of her dressing room. She feels stomach acid creeping up her throat, burning, itching, the urge to expel it all. But her mouth is twisted shut.

“You've wanted this for a long time, eh?” Thomas smirked. “Otherwise you would've pushed me away already.” He knew she couldn’t, for he was pressing hard against her, his weight much greater than hers. “I’ll make it enjoyable for you, I promise. I’m going to do all the things I should have done back then, my lady.”

Thomas’ tongue laps gently against the “queen’s” earlobe before nipping and pulling with his teeth. He bites hard enough to leave a mark and doesn’t stop until his victim yelps.

Joan’s heart aches so bad. It’s like someone’s reaching in with their hand, grasping it so tight, twisting and tugging. Wringing it like a rag.  Thomas pulls her closer, hugging her against him. Joan can’t breathe for a moment as her face is smothered against his shoulder. He’s sucking on her neck, starting at the side and making his way to the front, to the sensitive part of her throat. Joan is forced to lift her chin, which just gives him more space to bite and mark. She claws at his back.

“Stop-” She hissed. “You f—” She whined sharply when yellow teeth nip on her collarbone. It comes out pained, but Thomas hears a moan of need.

“Do you like that?”

Joan glared at him, but struggled to keep up her strength when Thomas began to make a mess of her chest. He’s pinning her wrists above her head, leaving her helpless to his assault. Slimy trails of saliva are left across her breasts and she cringes.

“Please— Thomas, stop!”

Thomas enjoys the way she pleads his name and starts to bite harder, just to get a reaction.

“You like this, don’t you?”

“Thomas, you-” Joan cuts herself off with a pained noise when Thomas squeezes one of her breasts hard enough to definitely leave bruises. She whimpers and her resolve finally comes crumbling down, along with what feels like her entire life.

Her conscious wavers for a moment. It’s hard to pull it back, as it was far from her reach. Every inch of her body felt numb and she could only squirm helplessly, with each of her movements being slow with fatigue and fear. She barely registers her body crashing to the ground; her eyes shut tightly upon contact with the cold floor.

“Oh, you look so beautiful like this...” Cooed Thomas’ slick voice.

Joan struggled to force her eyelids apart again and moaned softly, head lolling across the ground. A panic attack is rising in her chest.

“The noises you make are almost as cute as...”

For a moment, all her senses were wiped out before coming together again. Colors and light bled together like wet paint on a canvas. She didn’t hear what Thomas had said, but it only took a little common sense to put two and two together.

“T...T...” She tries to speak, but her voice drowns out as her head falls to the ground again. “S..sto...” She can’t get any coherent words out of her damn mouth.

“What’s wrong, my dear Anne? Cat got your tongue?” Thomas croons.

A momentary headache throbs through Joan’s entire skull, making her moan softly in pain. She writhes, kicking out her legs weakly at something that wasn’t there. Thomas notices and chuckles.

“You look so adorable like this.” He said while approaching her, “Like a little baby deer.”

He crouches down, running his fingers over Joan’s clammy cheeks. The tears burn like lava etching trails down her face.

“Moments like these need to be savored.”

“G...go to h...”

“Aww, can’t even finish your threat.” Thomas chuckles and shakes his head. “Now, stop wiggling around. I want to make sure your focus is on me. It’s the only way I can make sure you have a good time.”

Joan eyed him wryly for a moment before doing the exact opposite of what he said, thrashing as much as she could. She tried to scream, but the sound that came out was completely noiseless. A boot drives into her stomach, making her wheeze and then sprawl out limply.

“What did I just say?” Thomas said through his teeth before loosening himself up. “Though, I can’t expect you to get it just yet. After all, it’s your fault we’re in this mess. Anne, I don’t want to hurt you. I just need you. Why won’t you just let me have you?”

Joan is in that half state of unconsciousness again. She’s whimpering and squirming around like a hurt puppy, staring up at Thomas with big grey eyes that only fueled his bloodlust even more.

“My adorable, beautiful little Anne.” He purred.

Bands of hot iron compress Joan’s lungs to a point of bursting. The panic attack rises to the surface and she gasps desperately for air, trying to crawl away from Thomas. Another headache from the anxiety and lack of oxygen lances into her skull like a spear and her eyes are rolling around her in their sockets.

“Now, let’s-” Thomas grunts when Joan manages to kick him in the leg. It doesn’t hurt, but he still glares evilly at her. “You don’t ever learn, do you, bitch?”

Joan scowls at the man.

“But you are such a little fighter, aren’t you? Here you are, crying on the floor, and yet you still try to get away.”

Thomas is turned away, but he’s moving his hands around a lot. Joan doesn’t want to know what he could be fiddling with so she began to search around the room desperately. She ends up finding a broom she had used earlier that day, when things were still okay, and swung it at Thomas’ head. It misses her intended target, but instead slams against his shoulder, which she takes.

“You cunt!” He shrieked, reaching back to see if he had gotten badly hurt. “Do you know what you could have done, you dumb whore?!”

Joan felt a swell of pride. She uses that to get up, but Thomas is suddenly upon her. They tussle and fight, but, try as she might, Joan is no match for the larger, older, clearly-deranged man. The broom is yanked from her hands and her head is smashed against the wall; she swore she could hear the sickening sound of bones breaking. She slumped to the floor, moaning, as Thomas fumbles with her pants and underwear.

“You fucking animal—”

Like that, Joan loses the ability to speak as a searing pain shot through her colon and guts. It takes her breath away; she can’t breathe at all. Her mouth opens and closes frantically, but just can’t understand why she’s unable to pull air inside. It’s because there’s too much inside, too much of the wrong thing, and it’s stuffing her and holding her close and—

“Dear, look at me while I touch you. That’s just common decency don't you think?"

Joan refuses to open her eyes. She wants to lose herself in the suffocation. Thomas pulls her hair.

“Don't be rude.”

She can feel more tears coming- how long had she been crying? She’s shaking her head, whimpering and wheezing as her need for air gets more and more painful.

“N-No..!”

She can't hide the fact that she’s having a panic attack. Her voice is crackling and she sounds snotty. She wants this to stop right now. She tries to ease away, but he’s firmly holding her in place. She keeps muttering “no” over and over again, trying to drown out his voice.

Thomas leans over her more, restraining her with his body weight.

“I said,” White hot pain sears through Joan’s groin, causing her to howl, “Look at me while I touch you, dear.”

She’s dry, and the friction between her legs burns so intensely that it made her see stars. Within moments of only a few thrusts, she already feels raw. The stinging only increases.

All at once, she feels everything- the pain in between her legs, Thomas’ fingernails hooking in her hips, the hand that raised up to fondle one of her breasts, the blazing heat that blooms in her stomach, the broomstick shoved up her rectum. Then, she feels nothing at all.

———

Four hours.

He came in at midnight. It’s now four in the morning.

Four hours.

He tortured her for four hours.

Joan wonders why he didn’t kill her. She wished he did. She wanted the pain to go away.

She lies on the floor of the dressing room, naked, barely away, and struggling to breathe. Her bare, scratched up stomach is splattered with semen- he did her one favor by not coming inside of her. He didn’t want to risk a child from the infidelity.

The broom is lying a few feet away, the end coated in a shiny caking of blood and other fluids. The hole it left in her felt like it would never close.

Joan pushes herself up slowly; the pain is unbearable. It’s a constant, aching thing in her stomach that never seems to relent it’s throbbing. Hot coals were shoveled into each part of her body when she moved again, stoking the raging fires burning inside of her. Her muscles were crackling painfully from the strain of getting up.

She has to clean up the mess left behind. It’s a humiliating, shameful thing. She wipes off her belly and legs and tries to do the same from her vagina and rectum, but they seize up the moment her hands get near, so she leaves them be. The blood congealing between her thighs squelches uncomfortably as she scrubs off the floor with a rag (not a mop. she doesn’t want to feel the similarities of the broomstick). It bubbles and smears and sticks on her skin, sometimes running down the length of her legs and Joan has to quickly swipe the trail away. It’s like wiping away the tears of her ruined virginity.

Every air freshener in the building is sprayed in that room. Joan doesn’t know if it’s enough to mask the scent of sex and blood and sperm because she can still smell it, but she can only hope.

The broom is cleaned and hidden. Joan never wants to see it again.

She puts on her clothes from before once she’s finally done. The pants get soaked instantly and the underwire of her bra cuts painfully into the bruises left behind on her breasts. She deals with it, though. She needs to for a little bit longer.

She limps home on unsteady legs. Every step is absolute agony. When she gets to her single flat, she makes a beeline for the bathtub and stays there until the water is cold. Laying down like she was is uncomfortable. She’s worried about how bad it’ll be when she needs to use the bathroom.

She makes herself a cup of tea when she’s changed in fresh clothes. It soothes her abused throat, but it hurts to swallow. The warmth is good for her regardless. Wash away the taste. Force down whatever stickiness is still latched against her esophagus. She takes a painkiller as well.

The TV stays on tonight. The darkness is unwanted. She lies down on her side on the couch when laying on her back and stomach both prove to be painful. She makes sure she can still see the door. She’s made sure it’s locked twice.

Joan knows she probably won’t sleep, and she knows that’s to be expected. She’s prepared for it. She knows how this works.

———

Joan smiles shyly at Aragon. She rolls her eyes at Kitty. She helps Cathy with an original song. She follows the director’s orders.

She avoids physical contact. Which is normal. It’s what people who experienced what she did, do. Nothing to be ashamed of, just a typical reaction.

The others don’t suspect a thing, and she’s relieved. It isn’t easy to cope with what happened, but she’s confident that if she just kept at it, by herself, she can do it. There’s no need to confide in anyone—especially Anne. They don’t need to know.

Nobody needs to know.

———

It’s October, now. Five months have passed. Joan has recovered.

Physically speaking, her vagina and rectum eventually closed back up to normal sizes and using the bathroom became less painful as time went on. It’s still sensitive down there, but not as bad as it used to be. The bruises on her breast have healed, too, and the hickeys Thomas left behind were no longer visible.

Mentally, however... Well, Joan was working on it. She was really good at hiding what happened, masking it and twisting it around until it seemed harmless. It wasn’t, she knew, but she let the illusion remain.

The little things tipped her off. Hearing the word “rape” or seeing it happen shows or something like that didn’t phase her. She knew most of it was fiction, and there was a fine line between reality and make believe. However, she couldn’t stand to look at broomsticks anymore. As shameful as that was.

The nightmares start, too, but they’re an on and off thing. Her dreams are mostly blank, now. The memories only shove their way in when they want to taunt her, teasing her mind with their horrible tendrils.

Therapy’s supposed to be beginning, but, somehow, she knows she’ll still have nightmares of his naked body, his disheveled hair, and fingers inside her. Sometimes she dreams of monsters on top of her, pinning her down, licking her, knotting her, smashing their mouths against hers, clawing and groping and grasping. Sometimes she dreams of just watching that happen from a distance, and it’s Anne beneath the beast.

Sometimes she wishes she had let that happen.

It’s selfish, she knows. She knows all too well about selfishness and envy. But, God willing, when Joan wakes in the night, shaking and shivering and trying not to scream, the comfort of the incident happening to someone else that wasn’t her is the only thing that could soothe her.

She can feel it sometimes, too. Fingers forcing their way in. Tongues lapping her breasts. Teeth tugging her ear.

And it burned, burned, burned...

But Joan copes. She forgets—that’s a better word for it. She doesn’t nurture herself or make herself stronger, she just tries to pretend it didn’t happen. And when she does recognize it, she jokes about the incident with herself because it’s the only way to make it hurt less.

People don’t like when she jokes about it. They found it rude and offensive. She didn’t see it that way. It was a coping mechanism. Telling her to stop is what was rude and offensive.

But there weren’t that many people that knew. She didn’t share it often. Only sometimes on her secret social media account, which is where the backlash stems from. She preferred it that way. And then she messed it all up.

It happened too quickly for her to really comprehend it. She was sitting by Anne during a lunch break before their next show, trying not to isolate herself anymore. Anne was talking with the other queens. They all had a tendency to joke about their experiences with Henry, especially Anne, who didn’t really have any boundaries, as she wasn’t phased by dark humored jokes. So that’s why she had made some offhand, but subtle comment about dubious consent, and Joan just had to open her mouth and say something on agreeing to that. She didn’t even realize she did it until she looked up from her granola bar to see eyes on her.

“What?” She blinked.

“What did you say?” Anne said to her.

What Joan had blurted out hit her like a freight train. Instead of replying, she just went back to chewing her snack, hoping everyone would just move on, but then Anne grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to an empty room.

“What happened?” Anne asked.

Joan doesn’t answer. She looks at Anne with wide eyes and she can feel the queen’s anxiety smothering her, but she can’t answer. The words are caught in her throat.

“Joan,” Anne’s voice lowered. Her eyes are bulging in their sockets.

Joan was dizzy, falling, the world and everything she knew rushing past her.

You saved her, you saved her, you saved her- She kept repeating that in her head, but it brought her no comfort. She wasn’t a hero. Especially because she sometimes wishes she never did what she did.

“Did someone...?”

Anne didn’t need to elaborate. She’s heard and seen enough context clues from the other queens to know signs.

Joan swallowed thickly, and then nodded.

“Oh my god—” Anne reared back in shock, as if the gesture had taken a physical form and punched her in the stomach. She took Joan’s hands in her own. “Oh my god, Joan. When? What happened?”

“A few months ago,” Joan stammered. The floodgates have opened. She couldn’t keep it back anymore. “He— Some guy— Cromwell is alive and he broke into the theater looking for you. S-so I...”

“Oh, Joan, no—”

“I told him I was you.” Joan whispered.

Anne went very still, very silent, very pale. Her eyes widen and widen, and a quiet tear slowly rolls out from one side. Her hands, which still held Joan’s, have tightened. For a moment, it didn’t even look like she was breathing—she just stared forward, over Joan’s head, not even meeting her gaze, and held perfectly still.

And then, she’s jerking backwards and storming out of the door. She paces back and forth, hands up at her head and tangled in her hair as she tries to breathe but it didn’t seem to be working well for her. More tears were streaming down her reddening face. The other queens looked over worriedly.

“It’s my fault,” Anne muttered. Over and over again—she got lost in that single phrase like she was in a trance. Joan was scared to snap her out of it, but she had to speak up.

“No it isn’t—”

“YES IT IS!!” Anne whirled to her, face flaming, eyes ablaze with guilt and despair and rage. “He was looking for ME, Joan! I-if I had just been there, then I could have—“ She clamped a hand over her mouth and screwed her eyes just.

“I saved you!” Joan cried. “I couldn’t let him hurt you! This— this is my—”

“No,” Anne shook her head miserably. She grabbed Joan’s forearms and held on so tight it hurt. “No, Joan, no! You-you should haven’t— You—”

“I WASN’T GOING TO LET HIM HURT YOU!!” Joan yelled. “I don’t CARE what happens to me as long as you’re okay! I want YOU to be alright! I want YOU to be safe!” Her voice cracks, wavers, and the tears spill free. They sting her eyes like hot needles. “Because— because I— I let so many people hurt you. Back then. And I didn’t do anything to help you. I could have, but I—” She chokes for a moment and dips her head. “I saved you. It’s what I couldn’t do before. And it’s what I deserve.”

Anne’s legs buckle and she falls to her knees. Her arms wind tightly around Joan and she sobs into her stomach. Above her, Joan is still, hands hovering over the queen, until she, too, falls.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. They were both crying too hard to talk at this point, anyway.

#six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfic #six fanfiction #sixfic #anne boleyn #nana boleyn #thomas cromwell #joan on the keys #catherine of aragon #katherine howard #jane seymour #anna of cleves #catherine parr #tw: rape #two-back

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readysetstarker · 5 years

Text

KINKTOBER DAY 7: MIRROR SEX

Read on AO3

warnings: peter is an adult. mirror sex, sex w/ feelings, tony praising the shit out of peter

—

The talk got to him. Even when he grinned and joked with Tony’s peers, listened to lectures and talked shop with some of the world’s most brilliant minds who could appreciate his boy’s genius, it was always the judgement on his appearance that lingered on Peter’s mind. The words burrowed into his thoughts and corrupted that sweet love he had for Tony.

And Tony knew Peter heard it. At the bar, with his back turned to them, Tony could hear clearly every uttered word tearing his baby down. Where his baby stood across the room, engaging a nuclear physicist in pleasant conversation about the man’s two cats, Tony knew he could pick up their snotty words over the general purr of the crowd.

He’s so young, even for Stark's standards. You think he's out of diapers yet?

Didn't know Stark was willing to dive into dumpsters to find a boyfriend.

Parker isn’t even that cute. If Stark is so into boys, maybe I should talk my brother into seducing him. Anything’s gotta be better than gutter trash from Queens, right?

It made Tony want to squeeze the glass in his hand so hard it shattered to pieces. His blood boiled and rage lit a fire in his chest that he tried and failed to douse with the liquor. As if sensing his fury, the bartender topped off his drink and gave him a little extra. Tony made sure she got an excellent tip for the kindness.

He never left Peter’s side during the remainder of the party, finishing his drink and refusing any offers of refills or new tumblers. Peter seemed to sense something was off but didn’t question it. He figured Peter was too busy trying to block out the gossip, visibly wincing when a nearby group of women giggled as they passed him. Tony recognized one of them from the bar.

The night ending was blissful, even as he and Peter ducked away from flashing cameras and into the car. Happy talked about the success of their publicity stunt that night and lauded them both with praise about how expertly they had rubbed elbows. Peter didn’t seem to be listening; he was turned away from Tony, crowding in on himself, taking up as little space as possible.

His hand fidgeting with the simple crimson and gold band Tony had given him, obviously playing with the idea of removing it, made Tony want to turn the car around.

His penthouse was a welcome sight away from all the peering and judging eyes of the PR events Pepper made him do. As he and Peter exited the car, Tony considered asking Peter to stop forcing himself to make appearances with him. He didn’t need to go to them, wasn’t involved in SI the way he and Pepper were. But would he be hurt, thinking that Tony agreed with those ugly sentiments whispered about him?

Even considering that idea made his heart ache. He didn’t want Peter to ever think that Tony didn’t love him.

The moment Happy was gone, Tony had his hands on Peter, kissing him, pressing him up against the wall the way he knew his boy liked and had him moaning into his mouth. Peter’s abilities came in handy when he could reach behind himself and pull himself up the wall so Tony could get his hands underneath him and hold him up. That sweet, soft ass in his hands.

Those ugly words were forgotten as Tony carried him to the bedroom, let Peter strip him out of his three-piece and took his boy’s clothes off with as much fragility. He was able to drown in the scent and taste and sounds of Peter under him until, with a shaking voice, Peter asked Friday to dim the bedroom lights.

His anger came back with a vengeance, and Tony let it heat up in his gut.

Instead of acting on it, he turned it into motivation. He eased Peter onto his stomach and traced the arch of his back with wet kisses while drenched fingers worked his pretty hole open. Peter’s thighs trembled as he moaned and whimpered into the bed sheets. He hadn’t looked Tony in the face since asking Friday about the lights, and that made his chest ache.

Peter made the prettiest sounds when Tony entered him and began slow, deep thrusts. He buried himself in Peter’s tight heat and draped himself across Peter’s back so he could kissed his neck and whisper in his ear. Oh, how perfect he was, how gorgeous, and how patient he was to put up with Tony’s shitty admirers. That earned him a breathy laugh, face still pressed into the bed sheets.

And then Tony ordered the blinds closed. Close off the view of the city and leave them to themselves. “Give us the reflective side, Fri. Leave the city in the dark.”

Peter didn’t get a chance to ask what Tony was doing or why he wanted the reflective surface facing the bedroom. Tony’s arm was around his middle and hauling him up against Tony’s chest. He let his head fall back onto Tony’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as he pushed back against Tony’s hips. Tony sucked a dark hickey into his exposed neck before taking his chin and turning it towards their reflection.

“Eyes open, baby,” he whispered into Peter’s ear.

Peter did as he was told, eyes going wide when he saw the way they pressed to one another, how they were connected, and he tried to jerk his head away. Tony wouldn’t let him, tightening his hold on Peter’s chin. He shushed his boy with a gentle kiss to the skin behind his ear.

“Don’t look away, Pete. Keep watching. God, look at how gorgeous you are. Can’t get enough of you, my sweet boy. Got me wrapped around every goddamn inch of you.”

Tony punctuated his words with a harder thrust. Peter choked around a moan catching in his throat, and Tony was glad to see his eyes were locked on them, half-lidded from pleasure and alcohol. He whimpered when Tony pressed more kisses to his neck and hair, pinching a pert, pink nipple between his fingers and watching through the reflectors how Peter’s lips fell further apart.

His hand fell from Peter’s chin down to his red, aching cock. He stroked along the shaft, teased the head, and sucked a hickey into the skin of his shoulder while Peter’s eyes remained locked on them. Tony cooed into his ear, praised him, told him every thought that came to mind about how much he loved him, everything about him. From his silky chestnut curls all the way to his pleasure-curled toes, Tony loved him.

“Can’t keep my eyes off you,” Tony moaned into his neck, thrusts growing faster and shallower, as Peter’s moans pitched higher and higher. “Room full of athletes and models, and you’re the most gorgeous one there. Had me hypnotized tonight, baby. Still got me, even now. Look at yourself. Look how beautiful you are on my cock.”

Peter’s broken moan was angelic. He whined and grabbed at Tony’s pumping hand, encasing his wrist in a bruising grip and trying to fuck into his fist. Tony moaned praise against his neck. He urged him to come, to keep his eyes open as he did. To see himself the way Tony saw him.

One moan, two, then Peter’s voice cracked and keened as he came over Tony’s fingers, moaning his name, nails digging into Tony’s skin as he continued jerking his hips up. Peter’s eyes shut and his head fell back against Tony’s shoulder as Tony sped up his pace; he chased his own orgasm and let go of Peter’s cock to pull him closer. Peter’s quiet, overstimulated little gasps urged him on, and Tony ground his hips up into Peter’s ass when he came.

Peter was a panting, sweating, trembling mess. Tony whispered his affection into Peter’s skin as he pulled out. He eased Peter against his chest, turning his head once again to their reflections. Peter didn’t have to be told to open his eyes. He did so slowly, irises blown large and black.

He reached behind to card his fingers through Tony’s equally sweaty hair and smiled at the sight of them together.

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #nff #kinktober 2019 #my work

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ak47stylegirl · 4 years

Text

Sick Days - Chapter 7

Okay, chapter 7 is here!😁 And poor Allie, I am not kind to him...😅 Also felt like I needed to clarify, this fic is a part of my Normal Au.

I just love the boys being so domestic and caring for each other, there’s something so cute about it! 😄

The Past Chapters can be found here

------

Virgil POV

Scott’s eyebrows creased in worry as he straightened up “Allie, what are you doing out of bed?” Scott asked, walking over to their sick little brother.

Alan was visible breathing out of his mouth, looking so severely congested and stuffed up. His face was really pale with a slight feverish flush on his cheeks, little droplets of sweat sitting on his temples like a crown of sickness.

Alan’s eyes were red-rimmed and watery, giving him that look of having just cried. They also had that unfocused, feverish ‘I’m not really with it..’ look that could be partly from the medication or the fever that plagued his little brother or maybe both...

But the thing that stood out the most was Alan’s little red button nose... the kid’s nose looked so irritated and sore, glistening with moisture as thick gunky snot flowed out of the kid’s nostrils.

The only thing halting the flow was the fact that Alan was constantly sniffing, each little sniffle crackling with wetness as the flow got worse the longer the kid put off blowing it…

“Come on, what’s the matter, sweetie?” Scott asked gently as he crouched down in front of Alan, stroking a bit of hair out of the kid’s eyes “Why are you out of bed? I thought you were sleeping..”

“I...I he-heaud a car dribe in....” Alan mumbled softly, sounding really congested, his voice having that classic bad cold sound of a blocked nose and sore throat.

All in all, he sounded just so miserably sick...

Alan rubbed at his nose, swaying on his feet slightly. “I...I wauted to-ugh..” Alan sniffled, his nose starting to twitch and flare with an awful itch “-to see w-whuo..it..i-it w-w-wa-” Alan sneezed wetly towards the ground, nearly kneeling over from the force of the sneeze, unable to cover in time...

Alan shivered, his little arms wrapping around his middle with a whine, a tear slipping down his cheek...

“Oh, sweetie, come here…” Scott sighed softly as he lifted Alan into his arms, holding the kid in a gentle embrace. “That was only Virgil and Gordon getting home, you really should have stayed in bed..”

Alan sniffled, his head was resting against Scott’s shoulder, his eyelids flickering between open and shut. The kid was looking so tired and sleepy, he was surprised the kid had even woken up in the first place…

Alan’s tummy gave a sickly grumble, sounding so painful that he had to wince in sympathy as his little brother groaned with a little sicky burp and cough. Oh, Allie...

“Virgie?” Alan's eyes briefly meet his own, the kid’s eyes watery and red, looking so terribly sick. The kid tried to suppress a cough but it only made him cough more...

”Hey kiddo..” he smiled softly at Alan, gently caressing the kid’s cheek, “Scotty told me you weren’t feeling well, so I brought some fresh lemons to make you a nice hot honey lemon drink for your throat...”

Honey lemon was something their Mother or their Grandma used to make them when they had colds or sore throats, it was really soothing and comforting...

“I can make you one right now if you want?”

Alan shook his head with a little groan, coughing roughly into his fist. “Tu-tummy feels too...ugh-” Alan's tummy felt like that was the perfect moment to painfully grumble, making Alan whimper and bit his lip, the kid going an even paler colour than before...

Scott frowned deeply, looking down at Alan in concern and so much worry. Just as Scott was going to open his mouth to say something, Alan’s nose decided to have a tantrum as well, leaving the kid a snotty, sneezy mess.

Alan’s bottom lip was starting to tremble...

“Oh, baby, come on, let me clean you up kiddo…” Scott spoke softly as he sat down on one of the kitchen’s barstools, “Virgil, can you pass me that tissue box?”

“Sure..” He nodded as he spotted the unopened tissue box Scott was asking about on the kitchen counter near the window. He ripped it open and placed it next to his brother, “Here you go…”

Scott nodded in thanks as he grabbed a couple of tissues, Alan cradled in his big brother’s lap like a little baby. Alan was often mistaken for a toddler by a lot of people, the kid was just unusually small for his age...

Scott gently wiped Alan’s damp red nostrils with the tissues, cleaning up the thick snot that was oozing from the kid’s nose as gently as he could, trying his hardest not to irritate Alan’s already really sore, really sensitive nose.

But it didn’t matter how gentle Scott was being as anything would irritate Alan’s poor little red nose right now, which started to twitch before an explosion of a sneeze burst out of the kid. Followed by another forceful sneeze and then another sneeze and another...Ten wet, drippy and messy sneezes in total, leaving snot and tears streaming down Alan’s face.

Scott caught most of it in the tissues, which was soaked to high heaven now, but some had escaped, spraying Scott’s arm and the air around them. Little droplets of cold virus left floating in the air…

Alan sniffled, wet and damply as he collapsed back against Scott, an expression of absolute misery on his face.

He noticed out of the corner of his eye Gordon standing in the hallway entrance, his eyes wide with concern and worry. His school bag hanging off his shoulder as the teen debated what to do...

He sighed softly, “Come on, Gordon, homework..” He nodded to the dining room table as Scott cleaned Alan up, “tell me what you have to do, and I’ll see if I can help..”

Gordon nodded, bringing his bag over to the dining room table, not even fighting him on it like he usually would...Gordon’s still slightly wide eyes lingered on Alan, who had started crying in Scott’s arms.

The poor kid could only handle so much...

“Is he going to be okay?” Gordon asked him quietly as Scott bundled Alan up in his arms, carrying the sick seven-year-old to his bedroom. “I don’t think I have seen Alan that sick in...in forever..”

He sighed softly, squeezing the thirteen-year-old shoulder. “He’s just not very well at the moment, Gordy..” He took a seat at the dining room table next to his little brother, “now come on, what homework do you have?”

Gordon’s eyes lingered on the hallway for a second before looking at him, “The worst in the world...” Gordon said as he dropped his head against the table with a dramatic sigh.

“Maths!”

#Virgil Tracy #alan tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #original thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds fanfiction #normal au #sickfic #sick character

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saintheartwing · 3 years

Text

Undertales of Friendship: Derp-TEMMIE-Nation

Temmie was crying in the rainy streets of Ponyville. What had just happened was absolutely horrible. The laughter, the teasing, the harsh words, it was too much for one Temmie to bear. Worse, her super deluxe ultra rare super delicious Temmie Flakes were now mushy in the mud, the catlike monster crying and shivering.

"Hey... you okay?" A kind voice said behind her. Temmie turned, and saw a sight that made her go wide eyed with uber cute happiness. The grey pegasus before her was about average size, gently flapping her wings, with seven bubbles for her flank tatoo, as Temmie called it. But the cuteness came from those eyes, one looking up, the other down, making her look so huggabale combined with thta Frisky Fun smile.

She called it that because it reminded her of Uber cute and snuggly hoooooooooooooman Frisk, such a CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE!

But, she remembered what happened, and sobbed again. "Tem.... sad, so 1 lik Teme, cuz Teme tak werd."

The pony sat beside Temmie, offering her an umbrella, making the Temmie blink happily. "I know what you mean. Ponies pick on me all the time because of my derpiness. They even call me Derpy. My full name is actually Dizty Do Derpy Hooves."

Temmie smiled widely from ear to ear. Literally. "Derp e? Such a cuuuuute nam! I'm Temmie!" Temmie hopped closer. "Derp not allergic to Tem, r u?"

Derpy smiled, hugging Temmie. "Nah, Just clumsy. Ask Twilight. I once dropped a piano on her." She tilted her head a bit. "Followed by a hay cart. Followed by an anvil."

Tem went wide eyed, anime style. "OWWWWWWOWOWOW! Dat mus hut!"

"It did. But she forgave me. And now I even can fly pretty good thanks to Rainbow Dash teaching me to adapt how I fly to my vision." She pointed a hoof at her crossed eyes. "For a long time ponies thought I was retarded.... but these were just messing up my vision, making me clumsy. Some ponies still tease me about it, and I am not as bright as many others...but..."

Before she said another word, a rather annoying, nasaly voice was heard. "Oh isn't THIS rich! Looks like the Temfem found a fweeeeend." The two groaned as they saw a monster shaped like a ufo, with two eyes on the sides, a big ugly nose, and a small, mocking smile under an M shaped mustache.

Jerry.

And with him were several of the local bullies, a group of ponies who basically caused trouble for everyone. During the date bidding not long ago, they made a point of making obscene cat calls to Rainbow Dash, and shortly after the monsters came they were some of the first to rail against Muffet, saying she wanted to turn everyone into flies with her evil pastries, and eat them.

Admittedly that was partially true, but she only did that to parasprites because they were both delicious and cuddly.

"Wow, retards really DO attract."

"Man, you see her eyes?"

"I bet she can't even see us!"

"And I heard yesterday she tried to deliver the princesses's mail to Big Macintosh!"

"Big Mac? I heard she almost started a war by delivering a sex note to Queen Chrysalis!"

Temmie growled, and with one paw that got VERY long, successfully slapping every last one of them, only too late realizing her mistake.

"OOOOOOOOOO... I've been temmied! Now I am gonna have... Hoives!"

Temmie began to sob, bolting. Derpy snorted and growled at the laughing bullies. "You all oughta be ashamed of yourselves!"

Jerry snickered. "You oughta be ashamed of those eyes! I mean, are you looking up or down? Oh wait, it's BOTH!"

Derpy gritted her teeth. With a mighty whinney, she charged Jerry, knocking him down. The two were brawling as Twilight and several guards, including Papyrus, broke it up.

The look on the faces of the guards meant there would be a lot of trouble.

***

"And after what Jerry said, I didn't know what else to do hon! WHat kind of monster is that monster? He is such a.....a....."

"Monster?" Doctor Whooves said, working on his steam powered inventions while he and Derpy talked. The two had married some time before, despite obvious differences (Or perhaps because of them). Now they lived in a quaint cottage in Ponyville, where Derpy spent a lot of time baking muffins to go with the money she maid as a professional mailmare, while the Doctor worked as both a medical practitioner and a fringe scientist.

"Yeah, monster." Derpy whimpered some. "I hate Jerry."

The Doctor peeked out from under his latest work, the Steamy Dreamy 3000, meant to use a gentle steaming mist to help ponies sleep when it is too cold. "Dear, that is still no reason for assult and battery. And Jerry wound up with those bits with you paying out the nose because he had his gang as witnesses. He played you like he tried to play Temmie."

"Ohmygosh! Temmie! I forgot all about her... poor thing, she is so cute and kiind, and those creeps had no right to-"

"Dear." The Doc came over to her and nuzzled. "Think about this logically. Temmie is a very unlogical creature. Now if I were her, where would be the last place I would wanna go after being insulted?"

Derpy pondered, thinking mostly of muffins. Sweet, delicious muffins, with fresh raisins in them, and that home grown oatmeal from Sweet Apple Acres...

"Ummm.... the bakery?"

The Doc hmmmed. "Unlikely.... out of the way....very unusual..... yes, I do believe you are right love!"

Derpy blushed. "Well... I'l be honest, I was kinda asking if we could go there, all this made me kinda hungry." She made a little shy blush, the Doctor chuckling.

"Why not. I need a break and you need a pick me up. Then we can figure out what to do about Temmie."

Derpy hmmmed. "Maybe she is like me? Maybe she just needs to find what she is good at. Something that is just her?"

The two nodded, waking out of the home, humming a gentle tune (Ironically to the music of Temmie Village)

What talent does a Temmie have? What skill, does a temmie show? What job, can a Temmie do? I admit, I really just don't know. Can they sing? Dance? Love? Romance? Run? Play? Sleep all day? Do they cook? Cuddle? Solve puzzles? Do they laugh? Sing? Do anything? Sew? Sell? Ask? Tell? Kiss? Hug? Comfort? Bug? I'll tell you... It's all of the above! What power, does a Tem possess? What things, does a Temmie need? What hope, does a Temmie have? What is, their eternal creed. Can they sing? Dance? Love? Romance? Run? Play? Sleep all day? Do they cook? Cuddle? Solve puzzles? Do they laugh? Sing? Do anything? Sew? Sell? Ask? Tell? Kiss? Hug? Comfort? Bug? I'll tell you... It's all of the above! That's what a temmie does! Just like me and you! That's who and what a temmie is! And I assure you, it is all true! Tem...Tem Tem... Tem Tem...Tem Tem... "TEM!"Derpy said in shock as she walked in. As she had guessed, unintentionally, there was Temmie, trying to hide in Muffet's Spider Batter, several spiders tryng not to laugh at the cuteness. Muffet herself had her four arms crossed.

"Look, I have no orders for a Temmie Cake...yet." Muffet added under her breath. "And I highly doubt the Cakes, speaking of which, will approve of you hiding in my cake batter."

"Tem not lik even az foob. Tem worth 0."

Derpy approached. "That's not true! You're just different is all, and different means you have different ways, like me."

Muffet nodded. "Derpy is right. You remember what I was like when I first came here, how I was ridiculed because I used spiders in my pastries?"

Nearby, a pair of changeling girls were being tickled inside and out by said spiders. "Yeah, then you found out what we think of them, you doll!" One said, the other smiling and nodding.

"Or Huey! The monster kid with no arms? No one is making fun of him now!"

At the school, Diamond Tiara smiled as the high jumping Huey retrieved her crown from a tree after a crow took it, earning a kiss from the formerly snotty pony and cheers from the other kids.

"Or TWILIGHT?!" Muffet pointed out.

Temmie blinked in surprise. "Huh?"

Derpy nodded. "Yeah, before she became a princess a lot of people made fun of her bookworm nature. But now? Now she is the princess!"

Tem huddle din the batter. "But.... tem knot lik dat...."

Muffet petted the battered Temie with sprinkles. "Yes you are. You're friendly and kind, and everyone who needs a hug can count on you for one. You're the best friend anyone could ask for, and you make everyone laugh!"

Derpy nodded.

Temmie smiled a little. "But.... wha bot Jerr?"

Muffet growled. "JERRY. Now he is someone who IS worthless. No wonder all the good monsters ditch him. He not only has no friends, he does his best to alienate them."

Derpy was confused somewhat. "But why?"

Muffet sighed. "Bullies are often self hating. But if you ask me, Jerry is a rare breed, deary. He bullies just because that is who he is. He hates friendship and hates others, he'd rather be alone yet loves to annoy others, it is like my spider doughnuts are to those changelings in his mind."

Derpy growled. "Man, even Discord has friends, how can Jerry go out of his way to ruin friendship and be happy about it?"

Muffet leaned close to the two. "Because he is... well... JERRY."

***

As the duo of Derpy and Temmie left the bakery, they saw Jerry waiting there, bulies beside him. He snickered some as he watched the two walk out.

"Well well, the cross eyed mule and the low eyed pike return! I wonder if they have any.... derptemmination?! *Snicker*

Ok, that's it. Buck this, I'm done.

"Huh?"

Everyone... let's ditch this guy. He is so annoying and wrong and even I as the writer am sick of him.

Temmie smiled. "Dat goooooo idee! Tem flakes any 1?"

Derpy smiled. "Maybe we can try some Temmie Flake muffins?"

Temmie was so excited she literrally lept 100 feet in the air with her paws still on the ground... and stayed at that height. "OOOOOO! Nomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnomnom! Lezzgo!" She said, wlaking with her new long l-

"HELLLLOOOOOOOO?! I wasn't done insulting them!"

*The entire story ditches Jerry. The world is better for it. After all, who likes a bully?*

...

...Back at Derpy's house, Derpy and Temmie worked on the TemMuffins, Temmie unintenionally believing that SHE was supposed to go in one and not the flakes, resulting in a couple dozen little fruity smelling Tem Muffins, and one giant one with Temmie in the middle, breathing out actual balls of happiness that smiled as they floated by.

"Tem lik muffen. Muffen so warm!"

Derpy smiled, playfully nomming a bite. "And tasty too!"

Everyone laughed, especialy Temmie, because she was with friends who loved her, and when you had that, then who cared what anyone else thought?"

"Cuz afta all.... Tem happy is best Tem!"

TEMMIEND!

...

...JERRY: Where did everyone go? Oh come on guys! Where is everyone! Hello? Hellllllllllllllooooooooooo? *Snort* Fine,. this story is dumb anyway*

Jerry walked away. Thank goodness.

Classic Jerry.

#Undertale #MLP #MLP:FiM #friendship is magic #My Little Pony #Crossovers #fanfic #fanfiction #crossover

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gloomy-goober · 5 years

Text

Baby Mine

Summary: When a side forms in the mind of a host, they form young. A child, new and impressionable. Without much purpose but to grow into a new facet of a growing personality. A cry in the middle of the night wakes Anxiety, the eldest of the aspects that live in Thomas' subconscious. It was not the first time he would have to take care of a growing facet. Still something seems different about this new side and it is not the fact that one of his eyes is glowing gold nor the scales that cover half the face. He just wishes he could figure out what it was.

Tag List: @emotional-mess-in-distress @daflangstlairde @whizzie72

AO3

“I am going to strangle whatever keeps making that sound.”

Anxiety looked down at the young child beside him. Worried about how the orange eyes blazed. With every day that Wrath grew, Anxiety could not help but worry about what this seemingly innocent four-year-old would become once he caught up with Thomas’ age.

“It’s a baby, Wrath, you are not going to do that,” Anxiety said.

“Why not, it’s annoying and babies are stinky.”

The eldest side looked to his other side. Green eyes blazed bright in the dim light of the hallway, his arms crossed. The five-year-old kid looked even smaller in the large t-shirt he had stolen from Anxiety’s closet. Innocent almost, but Anxiety knew the greed behind those eyes.

“You were a baby once too, Jealousy, and I didn’t leave you to cry.”

Jealousy pouted. Both the children did not seem convinced.

“He won’t be a baby for long. Only a day or so, so stop-.”

Anxiety stopped talking as the trio turned the corner. A door now stood at the end of this hallway. It almost glowed in the darkness that surrounded it; a bright yellow with black designs painted around the doorframe.

“Why is that door so much brighter then mine! I want a bright door!” Jealousy stomped his foot and glared at the offending door.

“Too bright,” Wrath said.

Anxiety wanted to back away. Yellow was a sign of danger, caution, and poison. Thomas had seen it used on caution tape and saw it on the color of the bee that stung him.

But the crying was coming from inside. Loud and shrill; distressed.

The anxious trait took a breath and let go of Wrath’s hand.

“Stay out here.”

“Why do we have to stay outside?”

“Just do as I say, Jealousy!”

“But-“

Wrath sat on the ground and kicked Jealousy in the shin, “Shut up. The faster we get this done the faster I can go back to sleep.”

“Why did you kick me?”

“’Cause you are annoying.”

“I am not annoying!”

Anxiety tuned the argument out as he reached for the black door handle. He wanted to run. To flee. But the sudden end to the crying alarmed him more then the possible danger that could lie within.

What if I waited too long?

What if this kid just suffocated himself?

Oh God, I killed a baby!

Anxiety pulled the door open and stepped inside. The door automatically closed behind him; completely locking out the sound of the two younger sides that fought out in the hall.

The room was barren. The walls a grey color that was just slightly too dark to be comforting. A closet door was on one side of the room; painted black with yellow designs. A full-length mirror stood on a stand next to the front door. A single window broke the grey square that was this room; perfectly positioned above the crib in the corner of the room.

The white paint on the crib was chipped to show the dark-colored wood underneath. A light-yellow blanket poked out of one of the bars. Next to the crib a stuffed snake laid, button eyes two different colored. They stared up at Anxiety in a way that made his stomach curl.

The side took a breath and slowly moved forward into the room and he stopped next to the crib. His eyes darted to every corner to search for any possible trap. A tiny sniffle brought the gaze down into the crib and he could only stare down at the baby that laid there.

He was small, smaller then Wrath had been when he had first formed. Little feet snug in a black onesie kicked at the yellow blanket the baby laid on. Tiny mittens covered the hands of the baby to stop any accidental scratches from occurring. The tiny face was red and scrunched up, covered in tears and snot from crying. Blond curls were splayed out on the mattress; so different from the slowly darkening hair of their host.

But what caught Virgil’s attention the most was the left side of the child’s face. It was covered in light green scales. When the baby opened his eyes Virgil saw one yellow and one brown. So unlike the usual same color that he had seen in the previous sides.

The child’s eyes were filled with tears, but the sniffles stopped.

The two stared at each other. Silent. As if a breath could ruin the calm that had settled into the room.

Then it was broken as the baby started to whimper. Little arms reached up in a silent request that Anxiety answered without hesitation. The baby lifted and settled the child as comfortably as he could in his arms.

A cold, snotty face pressed into the anxious side’s shoulder. Little, mitten covered hands clung onto the hoodie.

“It’s okay, Kidlet, I got you. Don’t cry.”

Anxiety ran a hand through the curls in, what he hoped, was a calming gesture. As gently as he could, the side leaned down and picked up the toy. His hold on the baby did not waver; so scared of dropping something so small.

“It’ll be okay, no more crying.” He moved the toy to be in the baby’s view. A small smile appeared on his face when the child grabbed it. Squishing it against his face; eyes wide as they stared at Anxiety.

So much trust even as tears wanted to fall.

“Yeah, there you go,” a smile pulled onto Anxiety’s face, “No more tears. This place needs more smiles.”

The baby pushed the toy into his mouth.

“You probably need some food, huh? All that crying probably made you hungry. I know I get hungry after I have a big melt down.”

The baby just made a small noise as he shifted the toy to a better position in his mouth. Clearly the plush of the snake was much more interesting then the words that the older child was saying.

“Cute,” Anxiety mumbled the words as he pushed the door open. He had almost forgotten about the other two sides until he had hands trying to pull the baby out of his grip.

“What is it?”

“Why does he look like that?”

“What kind of side even is that?”

“Why is it so stinky?”

“I was cuter then him, right? I mean, obviously.”

Anxiety pulled back before the baby could be wrenched from his grip. Holding the child closer to his chest then before. A few sniffles came from the baby who was clearly overwhelmed by the sudden attention.

“Stop it, both of you.”

Jealousy glared.

“We just want to see the thing that woke us up,” Wrath snarled.

“He is not a thing,” Anxiety snapped. His patience always ran thin with the dark side. A tiny whimper made him check his tone before he continued.

“He’s a side. New, not yet fully formed, but he is a side.”

“Not a good one seeing as he is all scaly” Jealousy mumbled.

“Might I remind you about your feathers, Jealousy?” Anxiety shot back.

The kid pulled at his hair where a few blue-green feathers poked out. An embarrassed flush taking over his face. Wrath moved to stand next to the other side, orange eyes glowing as he glared.

“You both can go back to bed. I can take care of this.”

“But-.” Jealousy moved to protest but the glare he got made him silent.

“Some on, J, we don’t need to hang out with Anxiety and his dumb baby anyway,” Wrath mumbled. His hand was gentle as he led the other side away.

Anxiety only let out a breath when the two kids turned down the corner and disappeared into the darkness.

“Sorry you had to see all that, kid.”

He looked down at the baby in his arms. Mismatched eyes looked back up at him; toy now soaked in drool. A wet, mitten hand moved up and touched the side’s cheek.

“Gross, but thanks for trying,” he looked at the hall where the two other sides had disappeared, “I’ll talk to them in the morning. I promise.”

The baby’s yellow eye seemed to flash at the words. It was unsettling.

“Okay, you are weird.”

The baby moved the toy out of his mouth, “Ba!”

“Least you admit to it, Kidlet. Now, do you eat solid food yet or are you on a solely plush toy diet?”

Anxiety was slow as he moved down the hall towards his own room. His eyes rarely left the child in his arms. The response to his question was just a slow blink and the toy being pushed back into the mouth.

“That is what I thought,” Anxiety sighed, “We’ll try bananas anyway. Think you will like how they taste. Much more high end then a plush toy.”

Babies were not very good at conversations, but Anxiety did not seem to mind. He missed when the other two could only stare at him blankly and make small noises. Though Wrath was much fussier then the child in his arms now and Jealousy was constantly in need to be held.

“Let’s see how this round goes,” Anxiety whispered to the air as he pushed his door open. A wave of the hand had what he needed summoned.

The baby didn’t protest too much as he was placed into the dark black highchair and the spit covered mittens were taken off. The baby simply let the plush toy snake fall onto the high chair’s table and looked around the room. His focus seemed to stay on the clock that never seemed to stop spinning. Little eyes wide as he tried to follow the frantic hands.

Anxiety dug into a few drawers until he found what he was looking for.

“Alright, short stack, lets see if you are going to make a mess of my room.”

He pulled up his desk chair to face the high chair. A spoon summoned into his hand as he opened the jar.

The baby’s cheeks puffed out as he watched Anxiety closely. Little feet kicked back and forth as the baby adjusted to the chair. Bare hands hit the table. He seemed to like having free hands.

“You excited for some ‘nana?” He did not mean for the baby talk but the reaction was worth it.

The baby seemed to freeze and then almost looked disapproving at the baby talk that was attempted.

“Alright, alright. No baby talk,” Anxiety chuckled as he scooped some of the bananas onto the spoon, “But can you try this? If not, I got a bottle somewhere.”

He held up the spoon near the baby’s face. The kid tilted his head to the side and then raised a hand to try and take what was being handed to him. Tiny fingers moved right into the food. The baby let go instantly and looked at his hand. Eyes looked to Anxiety to see if this was normal and okay.

“Not exactly what I meant you to do, but hey. Yeah, that is food.”

Anxiety turned the spoon to his own mouth and mimed eating it.

“Food.”

The kid watched closely and then stuck the food covered hand into his mouth. The yellow eye’s pupil seemed to take over the iris. The brown human eye seemed to sparkle. His little feet kicked as he reached a sticky, drool covered hand back to the spoon.

“I am gonna take that as you like it.”

“Ne!”

The baby kicked his feet faster as he tried to reach over the highchair’s tray for the spoon.

“Okay hold on,” Anxiety rolled his eyes and moved the spoon forward. This time encouraging the little mouth to wrap around the plastic spoon instead of sticking his fingers in it. “There we go. Big bite.”

The kid was too happy to care about more accidental baby talk. The little face having some banana squish out as he enjoyed his food.

Every bite that Anxiety fed the baby seemed to be an adventure in keeping it in the kid’s mouth. This baby was determined to play with his food as much as he wanted to eat it. Little hands and the onesie becoming caked with mashed banana.

“You know that this is food and not finger paint, right?”

Anxiety asked as he screwed the lid to the jar shut. The kid had been playing with the last three scoops and it seemed safe to say that he was done eating.

The baby just giggled and hit a nice puddle of banana so that it splattered. Anxiety fought the smile that wanted to appear. This kid had only been around him for an hour and already had him wrapped around his tiny fingers. Curses.

The older side wiped the banana off his cheek with a sigh, “You are lucky that we are figments in a mind and not real people.”

With a snap of his fingers, the baby was clean of banana and in a dark onesie that resembled a bat. The little eyes were wide at the sudden change and he started to poke at the fake wings. Trying to stick one in his mouth but it was just out of reach.

“Adorable,” Anxiety chuckled as he picked up the baby. His hand moved to pull the hood up over the wild curls, “A little flying baby puppy dog.”

The baby did not seem interested in the side that held him. His attention was on the toy that he had left on the high chair. A tiny noise being made as little hands reached for it.

“Alright, alright. I see how it is. I feed you and you only want the toy.”

Anxiety picked it up and then sat down on his bed with the baby on his lap. The kid seemed happy to have the snake back in his grip, little hands shaking the plush up and down. Giggling at the movements.

“If it wasn’t for the scales, I would believe you were a ‘light’ side or whatever the other sides are calling their group now,” Anxiety yawned, “You are just so happy, sunshine.”

The baby babbled to the snake toy. A tiny squeal left him as Anxiety moved them both to lay down; the child rested on top of him.

Anxiety was still gentle as he turned the baby over, so they were stomach to chest. The drool-soaked snake now rested on the bed next to them. Mismatched eyes looked at him with wonder at this new position.

“I forgot how cute your little things are when you experience new things,” Anxiety found himself whispering. A finger brushed a few stray curls out of the baby’s face, “You are so full of wonder and hope.”

The baby yawned and laid the side of his head on Anxiety’s chest. Seeming to be calmed by the sound of the heart he heard and the hand that rubbed his back gently.

“Yeah, it’s late isn’t it? Think we could both use some sleep.”

He did not want to fall asleep with a baby on him, but Anxiety did not have the heart to try and move the small figure that rested on his stomach. So he just laid there, amazed as their heart beats seemed to align. For the first time since he was formed he felt calm.

#Kidlet Series #Sanders Sides #my writing #my fic #sanders sides fic #sympathetic deceit #deceit sanders #anxiety sanders #deceit #anxiety #thomas sanders #baby sides #virgil sanders

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footiefanficwonderland · 7 years

Text

Plumber in Shining Armour (Mats Hummels OS)

A/N: Morning lovelies, This one is for Mikaela, a wonderful girl who has requested Mats OS ages ago. I hope you are still around and will read it eventually, and that you will forgive me for making you wait this long; I am really truly sorry. This is just a random, cute story and I hope you guys like it. Even if you hate it, please leave me your feedback, I would love to know what you think, I feel a little rusty tbh lol. PS: I don’t even know what is with this title, I forgot how hard it is to come up with a proper one. Please excuse my extremely poor sense of humor. :( Anyhow, enjoy xo

“I swear I've never met a woman as messy as you, Mikaela,“ Mats commented disapprovingly as he rose from her couch where he was sitting with his legs resting on her coffee table, pretending not to watch Pretty Little Liars marathon which was on. He marched to the kitchen and picked up a wet towel lying in front of the sink, but dropped it even faster once he realized it was soaking wet.

“Why are you leaving wet towels all over your kitchen?!” he exclaimed in disgust.

Mikaela appeared in the doorway, putting on one of her earrings. “Please don’t touch that. It’s bad enough that my family is coming over tonight and my sink is leaking, I don’t need any other mess around here.”

She was wearing a tight, deep maroon dress which reached to her knees and flattered her body shape quite well. The off-shoulder effect accented her sun-kissed shoulders. Her lob was bouncing in waves around her shoulders as she titled her head to fix the earring in place.

Her family was coming over tonight after more than half a year, and they were Portuguese so that included much more than just her parents and siblings- there would be at least twenty people at this dinner. Knowing how judgmental women in her family were especially to the fact that she was twenty- five and still without a sign of being married soon, she has tried extra hard to make everything perfect for their stay. She has been cleaning around her house for days, cooking and preparing all different kinds of food, just for their liking. And then her sink started leaking and she has called her plumber but his wife has just went into labor and- thanks to her superb luck- it was the summer vacation season and every other plumber she has called was either on vacation or couldn’t get back to her before Monday. And so she was left with a tiny pool in her kitchen on the day of the grand family dinner. Amazing.

“Your sink is leaking?” Mats questioned “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked a bit offended.

“What for?” she sighed going into the bathroom to find her other earring.”

“I can fix this in no time.”

“Sure you can”, she snorted under her breath.

“Hey, I heard that!” Mats said offended, appearing in the bathroom as well. “Where do you keep the tools?”

“Mats, just leave it, you’ll make an even bigger mess.”

“I won’t. I know what I’m doing.” He assured. “So, where?”

“There is a toolbox under the stairs,” she sighed as he already headed in that direction.

“But if you break something more, you are buying me a new kitchen, mister!” she called after him. He just showed her a thumbs up, as he started searching under the staircase.

As Mikaela was setting up the finishing touches on the dinning table, Mats was under her sink, touching this and adjusting that. The noises that he made and curses that escaped his mouth made Mikaela know better than to ask how it is going. Finally, he appeared from underneath the sink with a triumphant smile on his face. “All done!” he exclaimed.

He had barely had the time to finish his sentence, when something broke and a strong stream of water started pouring all over his head. At least it was the clean water. Mats cursed and hurried to try to stop it, but it was of course out of his abilities and he was only able to tighten the pipe a little bit, still leaving the water to leak from underneath. Mikaela was staring at him with such intensity as she was still holding one of the plates in her hand, and Mats examined her carefully actually scared that she might throw it at him.

“New kitchen it is.” Was all she said however, as she kept on adjusting the plates around the table. Suddenly she slumped in one of the chairs and, putting her head in her hands, started to whimper.

“Why does this have to happen to me all over and over again? Why can’t I just once impress my family so at least one year I can save myself from their snotty little comments on how big of a loser I am.” There weren’t any tears on her face, she just ranted in agony.

Mats approached her and squatted before her, taking her hands off of her face.

“Hey,” he started in a comforting voice. “You are not a loser, not even close. You are the smartest and kindest person I know. You are also one of the most independent ones. I’ve never seen someone so young build themselves such a life as you did. That is impressive. Hell, if you consider yourself a loser than I am an even bigger one. Which is of course not true because we both know how awesome I am.” He tried to joke but it seemed to be in vain as Mikaela continued.

“You don’t know my family Mats. This house, my career, that “life” you are talking about- it means nothing to them. As long as I don’t have a husband by my side and at least a child on the way, they will consider me a failure. And I’m not saying having a family is bad, but there are also other things in life. Not that I don’t want a big family of my own but I’m proud of who I am for now; I’m proud of my career.” She sighed in despair.

“Oh that’s easy,” Mat’s face lit up. “If your love life is the problem, you can just say I’m your boyfriend” he winked at her.

She gazed at him and wondered how everyone would think she’s crazy for not taking him up on that offer. Because who wouldn’t want Mats Hummels as their boyfriend. At least pretend-boyfriend for one night. But she didn’t, seriously. She met Mats when she bought this house- he was her first neighbor. And since there weren’t many single people or even people their age for that matter in this neighborhood, they eventually started hanging out quite often and somewhere between their coffee breaks in the afternoon on her porch or long rants about everything and anything what bothered them sitting in pajama shorts on his couch or bed at 2 am, they became quite great friends. Despite the fact that he was a world famous football player and a very handsome one indeed, she never regarded him as anything other than her friend. That is until recently when she started to notice things about him that she normally wouldn’t. For example, the V-line of his body when he changed shirts before her, asking for her advice on what suited him better, or the tight line of his jaw, or how incredibly hot he looked with water dripping from his hair whilst they were lazily hanging out by his pool. Suddenly she became very self conscious about what she wore or how she behaved around him, and suddenly she would start having this very strong, strange feeling going through her body whenever he touched her, whenever he came really close.

Mikaela tried to convince herself that it was simply due to her lack of interaction with man. However, after she has called a man she has started dating in the meantime “Mats”- thankfully his nickname was Max so he didn’t quite get her mistake- she finally admitted to herself that she was falling for her neighbor. The thought of admitting how she felt to him was- to her- never a possibility because she was one of the youngest scientists at the Naturwissenschaften Institute in Dortmund, while he was the Mats Hummels- and more importantly, the one whose only type of women seemed to be models and/or actors with waistline of 60 cm. She realized this was superficial way to judge one’s so- called “friend” but she had his dating history to confirm her theory.

And so she said, “Thanks for the offer but I’ll deal with them somehow.” Then she flashed him a reassuring smile, “Thank you for your support, I’m fine now, really.”

“You still owe me a new kitchen though,” she joked to lighten up the mood.

Mats laughed and pulled her into a hug, “Come here, you.”

“Ew, no, Mats let me go, you are all wet!” she objected trying to wriggle out of his hold.

“Have you considered having this dinner at a restaurant, though?” Mats asked as Mikaela returned to arranging the table. “I mean, I know this place where they have really amazing food, plus the place is big enough to take all of you. I think your family would like it.”

“But dinner is supposed to be in couple of hours, I don’t think anyone will have a place for such a big dinner now without reservation,” she sighed.

“That, my dear, is when the perks of being a “world cup winner” come in handy”, he winked at her, “The manager is a really close friend of mine. So what do you say? I call my plumber to come and fix this mess while you are at the dinner, so your family doesn’t have to even see any of this mess?”

“Anything to save yourself from having to buy me a new kitchen, huh Mats?” Mikaela joked smiling at him gratefully. “Thanks for doing this for me.”

He pulled her in for a hug. “Ah, anything for you. You know I hate seeing your pretty face all sad and sullen.”

And there it is. These were the mixed signals that Mats freaking Hummels kept sending her. Every once in a while, he would look at her like she was the only women in the world or he would cuddle with her sometimes a bit too intimately, or he would give her these compliments that made her feel so special, or he would just take care of her in every way that he possibly could. But Mikaela was always the rational one, so she never let herself get her hopes up.

While helping her clean up the table she has so carefully arranged, Mats fake- sighed, “You will have such a great time with your family. Eating alone gets so boring sometimes, you know.”

Mikaela knew very well what he was trying to do but decided on letting him try a little harder.

“It would be really great to get to know your family,” he continued, “I’m really curious to see who you look like the most.”

Mikaela put down the table cloth that she had just folded, “My dad, and if you want to come with, you should just ask,” she teased.

“Well, I’m waiting for you to be polite enough to ask, women”, he narrowed his eyes at her. “But I don’t need any more invitation than that. I really hate eating alone”, he sighed.

xxx

The dinner seemed to go much better than Mikaela has hoped. Her family really seemed to like the choice of restaurant. Even more however, they seemed to like Mats, which was very surprising for Mikaela considering that her family has always been pretty clear about how disappointed they were in some of her partner choices who weren’t Portuguese, and how they strongly believed she ought to settle down with a Portuguese man. Nonetheless, Mats seemed to have fit right in, making conversation with everyone, retelling funny stories, making jokes. On couple of accounts, the women of her family questioned subtly and then later on not even so subtly anymore, whether the two were “a thing”. Mikaela assured them they are not, but she didn’t miss the flash of disappointment in her parents’ eyes. Like she said, everyone seemed to be very fond of Mats. Some of her family members even a bit too much for her liking. Her two-years younger and breathtakingly good-looking cousin Patricia seemed to not be able to take her eyes or hands for that matter off of Mats. As soon as she realized that Mats and Mikaela weren’t together, she was all over him. She had somehow managed to sit next to him, and had spent all night chatting with him. Not that Mikaela hasn’t already heard all those stories, but she couldn’t stand how her cousin kept touching him, coquettishly giggling at every other word that left his mouth. She even asked him to dance! In the restaurant where no one was dancing! Thankfully Mats has passed the offer. Somehow, she has even managed to convince him to take her to one of his games, and she wouldn’t shut up about the whole thing during the ride home. Mikaela thought her head was going to explode. She had no idea she could be this jealous.

xxx

“Thank you for everything, I just hope my cousin didn’t bother you too much.” Mikaela said when she and Mats were finally standing on her porch while she was seeing him off.

“You know that you don’t have to take her to any games right? I know you just wanted to be polite, but she has bothered you enough.” She was a bit scared that Mats would say that he liked it, though.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Mats smiled, “I would love to take her. I would also like it very much if you came with us. I’ve been asking you for ages.”

“I think Patricia would prefer it if it was just the two of you,” she carefully said, analyzing his reaction.

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. I have this thing for my neighbor anyway.” Mats smiled cheekily and Mikaela was left speechless. Her rational brain didn’t even have time to try to explain this, because in the next moment, Mats leaned in and kissed her goodnight. He has done it a thousand times before, but this time, his lips lingered on the corner of her lips a bit too long.

Mikaela thanked heavens that it was dark outside and he couldn’t see her face properly because she was sure it was tomato red. A million thoughts ran through her mind, as Mats started walking away from her. When he got near her fence he called, loud enough for her to hear, “Sweet dreams, beautiful.”

And Mikaela was sure the butterflies in her stomach won’t let her get any sleep tonight.

#mats hummels #mats hummels one shot #mats hummels imagine #mats hummels fanfic #mats hummels fanfiction #football #football fanfic #football fanfiction #footballer one shot #footballer one shots #footballer imagine #footballer imagines #footiefanficwonderland

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