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#im patient and I try so hard to be kind
littlemisshaleybug · 10 months
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I hate that I have the most toxic little asshole living in my brain. They're cruel and rude and insecure and possessive and so so so goddamn unhelpful whenever something emotionally upsetting happens, and I HATE that I can't always shut them up or squish them down.
Maybe it's just my inner teen wanting so badly to be heard, to hurt people the way I'm hurting. That teen who was used and mocked and absolutely never someone's first option. The one that was sexualized but never desired, was demanded time from but never appreciated when they were there, who gave everything and was stabbed in the back for it. Maybe they're protecting the little girl child thing that was also ignored or overlooked.
Or maybe I just want to be someone's first pick?
Why do I have to always come second or third best? Never anyone's priority? Ask intimacy of me, ask understanding and patience and passion and attention and desire from me, but never commit to me, never look me in the eye and say you want me and only me.
Is it so wrong to want someone to just stand up and say they want me and only me? To not be just the backup, or the spare?
Why am I not good enough?!
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the-cookie-of-doom · 3 months
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for a while now, I've really been doubting my career choices with nursing. I know a lot of it is burn out and depression, and being so overwhelmed between work, school, and clinical, that I didn't have time to breathe. I was in the hospital/on campus for 60 hours a week last semester, and that's not counting the time I had to study outside of that. It was awful. I quit my job because of it, I was almost involuntarily committed because of it.
But the scariest part for me has been how much I've hated clinical. It makes me miserable. And that's terrifying, because once I graduate? That's what I'm going to be doing for the rest of my life. So if I already hate it now, what does that mean for my future?
Sometimes, though... Sometimes I'll have a clinical that is just so good, it reminds me of why I'm doing this. Why I'm putting myself through the pain and suffering of becoming a nurse, which is honestly one of the hardest careers a person can have. It's mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting. It destroys your body and your mental health. Most of the time it's thankless. It doesn't pay nearly enough for what we go through.
Despite all of the reasons there are not to become a nurse, there are some patients that will remind you why it's all worth it anyway.
Last week, I had a crotchety old bitch of a patient. She had been in the hospital for 10 days, was refusing all of her treatments, screamed at anyone that came in her room, and demanded dilaudid around the clock, despite having no injuries to justify it. Everyone hated her. Her own nurses went in her room as little as possible; I think in the entire 12 hours I was there, her nurse spent maybe a total of 20 minutes in her room. I was in there for hours. A couple minutes at a time in the beginning just so she could warm up to me. Then I spent 2 straight hours at her bedside just talking to her. Letting her tell me her life story. Which was tragic, of course, and no wonder she was so run down and bitter and wanted to get high off narcotics. She was miserable, lonely, and in chronic pain from a body that was deteriorating around her.
So I spent as much time with her as possible. Sure enough, she didn't ask me for any pain medications a single time, once she realized she could trust I was going to look after her. I Explained her medications and her treatments, and the reasoning behind them. I offered to reach out to out chaplain when I noticed she was hyper focused on some televangical broadcast. I got her to call her son to come visit her. I got her to agree to take her medications and allow us to take blood sample for her labs, which were days overdue. I got her up and working with physical therapy so she could start walking again.
By the end of the day, that patient loved me. Not a single complaint all day, she wasn't screaming down the halls and cursing everyone's existence. She was still crotchety and mean in that way old hillbillies are, but she wasn't angry. She wasn't lashing out. She was finally being cooperative. All because I took the time to talk to her and offer her company.
Tonight, I had a shift in our mental health unit. There was a patient who I noticed was very withdrawn and avoiding everyone, mostly just standing in a corner at the end of the hall, by a window. I went down and talked to him. Kind of stilted at first, but slowly he opened up to me. I really only meant to talk for a few minutes, mostly for my own sake, to get used to interacting with mental health patients like this.
Instead, we talked for hours. Nearly 3 hours straight at the start of the day alone, and then more throughout the day. My feet were killing me by the end of it, but it was completely worth it to see the way this poor guy came to life. We talked about everything from social topics like music and movies, to his medications and treatments, and how to manage his depression once he leaves. Something I was able to connect with him about on a personal level in a way his nurse hadn't, because I've been living with depression for a decade, I've been on antidepressants, and I understand. I think that was the point it clicked for him, when he really started reaching out to me, instead of answering when I prompted him. Because humans need connection and understanding.
By the end of the day he was talking freely and smiling nearly non-stop. We'd made plans for him to get back into an old hobby he hadn't touched in years, and he seemed genuinely excited to start it back up again. He was nearly bouncing in place when I went to say goodbye to him at the end of the night, and thanked me for talking to him all day. Even the staff nurses noticed the way his demeanor had completely changed.
Another patient (my actual patient for the night) started the day very combative. To the point she had to be redirected to her room (not locked up, just strongly encouraged to go and cool down). She was screaming at everyone, having some very serious and severe delusions. Same story; I talked to her throughout the day, little bits whenever she was feeling calm. I noticed she had a tattoo from an old semi-niche XBox game I used to play, and we bonded over that. By the end of the shift she loved me. Kept asking me if I'd gotten lunch/dinner, made sure all the other patients on the unit got their snacks, told us all to get some rest once it was curfew for the unit (we had to stay another 2 hours) and said we could use the spare bed in her room if we needed. Which sounds really weird but coming from her was incredibly sweet. Again, total attitude change.
I am very cognizant of the fact that the way I approach my patient care is largely a privilege of still being a student. It's easy for me to stand at a patient's bedside for 2 hours straight and listen to her life story when I have nothing better to do, let alone 3 other patients to take care of. But that nurse didn't talk to her at all. Even when she was in the room, she dismissed everything the patient said. The mental health nurses? Most of their time is spent in the nursing station gossiping and messing on their phones. There's no reason for them not to put in the extra effort of spending time with their patients. And especially there, it can have such an impact.
All of that is to say, I love the relationships I'm able to build with my patients. It's so important for me to be able to connect with people like this, to make them feel seen and cared for and important. No one wants to be treated like an inconvenience, especially not while they're in the hospital, sick and hurt and exhausted and in pain.
Nights like these are why I'm going into this field. I love medicine and I always knew I would end up in the hospital, I've always wanted to be able to save someone's life. But I think now that I've grown up and I'm actually working with these patients, I've come to see not only how rewarding it is to save someone's life, but to nurture that life, too.
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androideql · 1 month
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so... some downer news, but i don't think the requests are going to be finished as fast as I would have hoped.
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Me, reading before bed: I don't think I know how to recognize what it feels like "put my heart into" things because I struggle to recognize most positive emotions since I dissociate so much by default and kind of just passively exist in life. Passivity is my default state and it blocks me from experiencing and feeling things.
Loki, fully aware of the dissociative disorder and trauma this all stems from because we've had this conversation before: Yup. Let's maybe hold onto the realization this time, shall we?
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rucow · 3 months
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i sometimes forget that mental illness is pretty much a disability by itself, or that anything that makes u unable to live a ""normal"" life is a disability. its so odd to think of myself as disabled when i dont have any obvious physical disabilities. but then ill literally need 2 weeks to recover from going out Once, or like when i have to spend a night home alone and i hallucinate like crazy and get so paranoid and scared and depressed that i just Can't go about my day, so yea :') lots to think about
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vhstape · 1 year
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anyway i made dinner for my partner the past two nights for the first time in a while and its literally the best ive felt in sooooo fucking long honestly
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69shrimp · 2 years
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birth control is so funny bc youll be like hey i get this unbearable side effect daily and the doctor is like "thats not happening. not from birth control!" because they dont want you to go off it
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thereprisesystem · 1 year
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bedtime gang !!!!!!!!!! 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥
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futuremercifulnerd · 16 days
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Just gonna vent for a hot second dont mind me
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orcelito · 2 months
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Need to get better about protecting my eyebrow piercing 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I keep bumping it on things and it hurts oh so very much. And I just a bit ago bumped it on my cat (Tally) while I was dipping my head to nuzzle against her back. And Ouch. I was cleaning it soon after (evening routine cleaning) and it ended up bleeding again and it's like. Woopsies........
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kenntolog · 26 days
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sukuna realizing your sad because a classmate was flirting with him and ur just all upset because you thought he dont want u anymore. IM SORR I NEED SOME FLUFF
𝝑𝝔 an: hope u enjoy thisssss!!! read more ab cool bf sukuna x loser reader here!!
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you’ve been avoiding sukuna and he knows it.
it’s not that hard to see when you’re walking around with a sad face, getting to the lecture hall later than him so he doesn’t find a way to sit by your side, not answering his messages properly, not going to his practice games with lame excuses. and honestly, sukuna is kind of hurt because you refuse to acknowledge that he cares and tell him what is bothering you.
but sukuna isn’t dumb. and it was fairly easy to realise that you were upset with him because you were jealous of yorozu from his group literally throwing herself at him at every chance she got. it wasn’t anything new since she has been bothering him from the first year of university, when they were introduced as classmates.
it seemed like yorozu’s sense of obsession with him got stronger with upcoming spring. she was not leaving his side in the hallways, trying to tag along with whatever he was doing even while he didn’t spare her a glance, she was calling him the nickname he only allowed you to use which pissed him off further and she clung to him like a vice, her grip not wavering even when her dumb friends called out to her.
and in these moments, while sukuna’s mind was filled with questions like ‘how to get away with murder’, your insecurities got the best of you, seeing how sukuna, though visibly annoyed, didn’t seem to push her away completely. so you stopped walking up to him in the hallways after classes to plant his favourite types of kisses on his cheeks and you avoided catching his eyes because it hurt.
yorozu is beautiful, her beauty is carnal and almost every guy in the university drools over her so it shouldn’t come off as a surprise that maybe… maybe you aren’t the best choice for sukuna?
it goes on like this for a couple of excruciating days; jin and yuuji don’t risk asking about why sukuna seemingly only busies himself with practice and why he dons a deep scowl. they suspect that it’s something related to you, but don’t interfere and sukuna is happy they don’t. his mind is constantly focused on trying to get to you and as much as he wants to go to your place and talk things out… he’s scared. and he gives you space, thinking that the situation won’t escalate further.
but it does, when he catches you in the empty hallway, trying to get to your class with the saddest expression he’s ever seen you have. sukuna calls out to you, speeding up his steps and you stop, something hopeful burning in your eyes as you wait for him patiently.
yet, of course, yorozu appears out of nowhere with her wide smile and catches up to him quickly. sukuna sees the hope in your eyes quickly switch to betrayal, your bottom lip trembling and eyes glistening with tears as you turn away and run towards the bathroom. something cracks inside of him. but this time he’s not going to let damned yorozu stop him.
he rips his arm away from her grip, stepping back instantly while she looks up at him as if nothing is happening, “piss off or i will get violent.”
“‘kunaa~ why you gotta be so rude?” she leans her head against his shoulder insistently, batting her eyelashes at him. his eyes only see red when he hears the nickname again and he decides that he’s gonna use a different method this time.
he slowly guides his hand up her arm, feeling her relax under his touch, and weaves his fingers through her hair gently before his grip tightens and he tugs her head back roughly.
finally her face displays something other than satisfaction and that ugly smirk, and he shakes her in his hold while his other hand covers her mouth to stop her from making any sounds.
“don’t ever fuckin’ call me that,” he leans closer to her face. “and if you come up to me anytime again i won’t stop at this.”
she whimpers and nods shakily, trying to pull away before he harshly lets go of her hair, causing her to fall down.
he runs to the bathroom quickly, entering without any care and looks under the cabins to see where you are, but you seem to have found another place to hide while he was busy with yorozu. sukuna runs around looking through empty classes until he finally finds you in the art class, sitting in the corner farthest from the door and sniffling quietly.
“baby?” you jolt in your spot and cover your face with your hands, hurriedly wiping away your tears. he approaches you slowly, his hands itching to touch you, but he understands that you might not want that. “you cryin’?”
“no?” you croak out, sobbing a little more and sukuna feels like getting punched in the face repeatedly. you finally look at him, and sukuna steps closer to stand between your legs.
“‘m sorry.”
“you don’t have to apologise, y’know? ‘s okay if you like her.”
now, that’s crazy. “the fuck? i hate that bitch.”
you give him an unsure look and he sinks onto his knees before you, tugging your hands down from your face before he cups your jaw like he loves to do. you pout at him, still sniffling and trying to avoid his gaze, but he doesn’t let you, gently shaking your head to make you focus on him.
“look at me, baby.”
“‘m looking, ‘kuna.”
“no, do it properly.”
you take a few deep breaths, wiping your nose with your sleeve messily. and lock gazes with him. sukuna leans down, slotting his lips against yours, his free hand resting on top of your head. the weight of it is familiar to you, making you relax into him, your hands wrapping around his arm.
he pulls away, stroking your hair as he looks down at you with a gentle look in his eyes.
“i don’t want her. i only want you and i want you to engrave it into your thick skull or i will do it myself.”
you give him an unsure smile, eyes a little bit brighter now.
“i’m sorry for makin’ you feel like this.”
“i’m sorry for not talking to you about it.”
sukuna nods at you, hugging you close to his chest and kissing the top of your head lovingly, before he tightens his hold on you so much you start punching his back.
“but if you ever decide to run from me again i will kill you.”
“‘kuna, can’t breathe—”
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getonite · 2 days
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something something heian sukuna + mindless touches blah blah — gn!reader
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for such a man like sukuna, the king of curses, he's quite- "clingy" at times. he's touchy. specifically, when he's bored. when someone's talking to much, or when he's "patiently" waiting for uraume to be done, he has you.
he'd occupy his boredom with members of his harem prior to you, but for some reason, he's decided to make you stick to him like glue. hence, you sit right next to him in boring meetings and quiet halls, adorned in the finest fabrics, personally hand-picked by him.
for a large man like sukuna, he's busy body. especially when there are mediocre thoughts running in his head.
and strangly, his hand moves to you. mindlessly it seems. no matter who he's in front, one of his four hands slides to the back of your neck. his thick fingers run along the back of your neck. they press, sliding up the side before they gingerly wrap around your throat, a thumb playing with your bottom lip.
he massages your neck, not a thought in his movements as he does.
"lord sukuna?" you question in a soft whisper, wondering why hes suddenly so touchy. "hm?" he grunts, looking down at you.
"do you- need me to relieve you- or anything?" you mumble, fingers curled around the fabric covering you. sukuna blinks, all four of his eyes looking directly at you. "no, why?" you blink wondering if he's playing a game or seriously confused.
you gulp, feeling the resistence of his fingers. "well- this is the third time you've touched me like this without saying word, so..." you purse your lips, peering up at him curiously. a grunt leaves his lips and he retracts his hand from you.
"no, i don't need you to please me right now."
"hm?" you tilt your head, wondering what goes on in his head for the 15th time that day. "okay... you can still touch me, i don't have anything against it, i only wondered."
sukuna sighs, not saying a word. never in his life would he admit that he simply craved to touch you, it was a mindless decision.
"shush, just let me, will ya?"
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I WROTE OMG :O i am struggling so damn hard omfg, this is kind of lame. this is more of writing training rn lmfao. im trying to finish this sebastian fic real quick.
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miwsolovely · 2 months
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—WALLS AND HAZE
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pairing: outlaw!farmer!141 x fem!reader
series masterlist taglist (closed.) next
contains: implication of abuse + rape, sexism, cheater husband, rumors about reader are being spread, (implications that) reader is called mean things here :( (whore, brothel woman), husband is an asshole.
summary: meal for a king.
wc: 4.3k
a/n: u guys were hungry huh
a/n 2: this is an outlaw 141 set in the 1800s, which i was not born in so mind the inaccuracies ! ( reader is so oblivious in here im crying but shes so cute )
a/n 3: firm believer that simon n johnny look like this in this series🫶🏾
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You wished the walls could talk.
Wished they were one big spiderweb of networks, all connected, so that they would see what was happening to you and tell the world.
Wished people cared like you wished the walls would. Coming to your aid and mending you, body and soul. Holding you up when you can’t hold yourself.
But the walks can’t talk. They can only stay silent and watch. Feel your pain and sorrow and the feeling of your body being pushed against the way, beaten, bruised, broken, taken.
And the walls don’t care. No matter how much you wail and stain the floor with your never ending tears, tears so abundant and filled with grief, the clouds cry for you whenever you can’t. Eyes too red and dried out to do anything but watch and feel as your heart, your bones, your soul breaks.
The walls can listen too. Listen to your cries as you beg to be free, listen to your frustrations, your pains. But no words of comfort come from them. No kiss goodnight, no hugs overflowing with love or kindness. Just silence.
The man who you’re married to, the man who lifted your veil and said your vows, “for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
That man was asleep in your bed with another woman.
Asleep dreaming of her, kissing her, making love to her.
When it was supposed to be you. He’s married to you, she’s supposed to be the other woman. Not you. Not you indeed, the one with the ring, the ring he used kissed each night before bed, on your finger.
But he made it very clear that it was indeed you, who is the other woman. Letting her wear your clothes, clothes that he bought for you wrapped in colorful paper and sealed with fake words of love and promises.
You overheard some talk about him buying her a ring as well.
Heard him going over a trip for them to New York.
Planned for the day of your anniversary.
In all honesty, you just wanted out of this God forsaken house, this town.
So you decide it’s time to look for a new house.
But you can’t. The world is as cruel as your husband and women can’t buy or own anything unless their husband buys it.
Women can’t do anything, unless their husband is there with them.
The only thing you can do is sit on your loveseat and realize why women kill.
The man selling meat seemed nice.
He was rough though, you could tell by the way he looked and the way he carried himself. He was a big man as well. Easily towering over the mini crowd of women fawning over him.
You try your best to, gently but firmly, push through the crowd of women to get to the front counter where the man was cutting meat for a customer.
“Excuse me,” You mummer trying to walk around the woman shamelessly showing off her cleavage to the man as she leans on the counter.
She turns around at the sound of your voice and her elbow jams against your ribcage with how fast she did the action.
You flinched and held your middle, the corset you were wearing doing nothing but causing you more pain. The woman looked at you as if you stained the bottom of her shoes. “Be patient and wait in line.” She scoffs. She was about to turn back around to the man still chopping the meat on the counter, his eyes slightly raised to meet yours then anothers’ behind you, but another voice, accented and heavy, interrupted her.
“If Ye’re not gonnae buy anythin’, leave.”
You turn and almost crash face first with a hard chest. You look up and meet crystalline eyes. A color you’d never seen before outside the sky. The sea you’d yet to see but if you had, the waves would roar with jealousy.
The man gives you a wink and starts to walk by you towards the man behind the counter, completely ignoring the woman trying to seduce them both now, but stops midway and looks back at you, as if urging you to follow him.
You pause and were about to follow, but then, you notice the multiple pairs of eyes on you.
The women point and whisper at you. Likely spreading more false accusations against you.
“Look, it’s Mrs. Fitzroy. Shouldn’t she be tending to that husband of hers?”
“I heard she was trying to change her surname.”
“I heard she’s sleeping with the man selling apples at the market.”
“Good heavens! I thought she was sleeping with the fletcher down at Browns?”
“An’ I coulda sworn I saw ye spreadin’ yer legs for that blacksmith off on Hickory?” The man said. Lifting a finger to the woman who accused you of sleeping with a man you’ve never met, the fletcher, pointing her out.
A small smile, you notice, lifts the man behind the counter’s eyes, revealing his crows feet.
One of the women scoff. “A man so beautiful, yet such an ugly mouth…”
A cleaver comes down heavily, and startles the women still around the counter. “You women are so bratty,” He stares them down. His brown eyes turning black with… hate? “you lot make your own children jealous.”
Gasps of offense can be heard from ten miles down. The women act hurt as if their mothers mother were insulted, and one by one they file out the butcher’s shop after giving the two men their best glares.
You follow them with your eyes. And then, silence fills the room like a void expanding, swallowing up sound and leaving only a hushed stillness in its wake.
“Thought they were never gonnae leave.” The man with the blue eyes says. He scratches his stubble and faces you again, a smile lifting his face. “What do ye need lass? Or did ye come ‘ere jus’ for a peek at us?”
You feel your face grow hot as he flirts with you. When was the last time a man flirted with you, you couldn’t remember.
“I, well — I came to ask if you had, or have, Sirloin..?” You ask.
You noticed, that the moment you opened your mouth, the man with the rich brown eyes stopped his cutting of the meat in favor of looking at you, though it looked like he was looking through you at times, into your soul, and the man with the unique but beautiful accent had his eyes trained on you, as if drinking you in.
“Sirloin?” The man behind the counter questioned. He raised a scarred eyebrow. “Trying to make a feast fit for a king, lovie?” His voice is rough and deep, suits him well, you think.
You took a steadying breath. “No, no just dinner for my, husband. Our um — anniversary is in a few days.” You admit. Though you think you sounded sad, you didn’t mind it. You could tell the two men saw through you and noticed your unhappiness as well. Seven years with a monster will do that to you.
The man with the blue eyes hummed, something deep and rich that made you feel unsteady on your feet. “Congrats lass,” He nods his head at you. “Name’s John, this bloke ‘ere is Simon.” He nods his head and points a lone, thick finger towards the man behind the counter.
You offer them a timid smile and bow your head, your fingers finding and fixing invisible wrinkles on your dress.
“It’s nice to meet you both.” You say. You tell them your name and hide your shiver when the man behind the counter, Simon, says your name as if tasting it. It comes of his tongue like a melted honey similar to his eyes.
“Sirloin, yeah?” He looks up at you as he cleans the blood off his knife, dyeing the white handkerchief in his large hand red. When you nod after shifting your attention to his eyes, he continues. “Give me a second then, love.”
With that, he disappears through a door adjacent to the counter he was previously behind, most likely the meat locker, leaving you and John alone.
“Those women give you trouble all the time lass?”
You startle with how close his voice sounds to your ear. You turn to your side and look up to see him nearly standing chest to chest with you.
“Oh—no, no only when I see them or, or the other way around…” You say with a nervous smile. Looking down at his broad chest rather than his eyes after seeing how he looked at you with something akin to longing. When you take a step back nervously, his warm, large hand finds home on your waist, keeping you in place.
“Well if they give ye any trouble,” John says, lifting a finger to your chin and raising it so your eyes met his. “Ye’ll let us know then, hm?”
Will you? Will you let these strange, men help you when you need it? It was tempting, it is tempting, but again, these are strangers. Walking around the town with unknown men at your hips will raise even more rumors about you and your private life. People in the town will speak and words travel fast in your small town.
You want to say no, that you can handle yourself, but this man, he’s leading you into a field of roses that tempt you into his awaiting hands.
What you couldn’t see, was that behind the rose colored glasses, was a field of rot and sorrow that would follow if you obliged.
However the smell of roses and pine led you further and further into him and after a few minutes, you found yourself nodding, your words dying on your tongue.
John smiles at you, and his smile only grows wider when you step away from him as is burned when you hear Simon’s heavy footsteps.
When he opens the door, you notice the big sack he’s carrying over his shoulders, though almost the size of his broad shoulders, he makes it look like he’s carrying a feather.
You also notice that it looks bigger than what you ordered.
Simon places the sack on the counter and double checks the rope knotted at the top, making sure it's sturdy and won’t open. "Made sure to double the sack so it wouldn't leak," He says. When he looks at you, he notices the expression on your face. "Somethin' wrong lovie?"
John, still next to you pipes up. "Looks alrigh’ to me." You step up to the counter and run your fingers up your arm, a calming sensation to you. "Well, that's — It just, looks, more than what I ordered?"
Simon blinks. John smiles wider.
“Consider it an apology for dealing with those, women.” Simon drawls. He picks up the sack and walks the length of the counter to stand before you and John.
“An’ a thank ye for dealin’ with ‘im.” John says throwing a wink your way.
“I—” You sigh. “Fine, then how much do I owe you?” You start the motion of reaching for your wallet in your satchel. About to open it, John’s hand stops you midway.
“Consider it on the house hen, couldnae let a pretty lass like ye pay after what ye jus’ went through.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—please, the meat’s expensive and, and you gave me more than what I asked—not that that’s a bad thing but still—” You worry, and in the midst of that worry you don’t see the sweet smile rising on Simon’s face as he looks at you. The way John’s hand hovered over the curve of your waist, the lightest of touches just barely enough to satisfy him, but enough to keep your veil covering your eyes.
“Jus’ let us take you home love.” Simon says while stepping closer to you, caging you in between him and John whose hand now pressed against your waist, firm. “Can’t let a lady like you dirty her hands carryin’ this now, hm?” He says, shrugging his shoulders to prove his point, the sack already moistening with the blood of the meat inside.
Your hand, you realize, is still captured in John’s warm grip, calloused and rough, but gentle all the same.
You open your mouth, about to object, but John’s hand moved to and grew firm on your waist, urging you to obey, daring you to say no.
So you sigh, nod your head, and tell them your address.
The drive there is, pleasant. John sat in the back with you as Simon drove, the sack holding the meat sat next to him in the passenger seat. The scent of the meat was close to nothing, as Simon did say he doubled the sack. You’ll make sure to thank him later.
By the time you arrived at your house, it was close to eight o’clock. Around the time your husband would come home from work. If he even bothered to come home at all.
“Here I am.” You say eyeing the house. Stained with years of pain and sadness.
“Beautiful house you have here darlin’” Simon says as you unlock the front door, allowing them in.
Your heart beats faster and you feel as if this is a mistake.
“Thank you, Simon.” You offer a small smile. “Oh, you can put that in the freezer in the cellar. Here let me—”
“It’s alrigh’ bonnie, let ‘im handle it.” John says. His hand, once again, finding the curve of your waist.
“Ah, okay. . .” You say, and when you look in his eyes, you realize the haze you’re feeling right now, the haze these men are creating, you forget where you are, who’s last name you’re carrying.
“Would you—” You take a deep breath and you’re sure John can feel it. “Would you like something to drink John? Water or?” You say already walking to your fridge in your kitchen, already missing the warmth of his hand.
“Water’s fine bun, An’ call me Johnny, ‘John’ makes me feel as old as Price.” John, Johnny, says, following you to the kitchen and accepting the water bottle you offer him.
“Price?” You tilt your head in confusion. “Who’s that?”
John shakes his head with a smile. “No one, ye’ll meet him soon.”
If that sentence was supposed to quell your curiosity, it only fed the beast. “What is that supposed to—”
“All done.”
Simons voice, his deep voice, causes you to jump. You turn to face him and find him staring at Johnny, an unreadable expression on his face.
You clear your throat, feeling the tension. “Thank you, Simon. I really appreciate your help.” Whatever conversation Simon and Johnny were having, in a language only they know, it seemed to snap Simon back into reality and he looked down to meet your eyes, his own immediately softening.
“It’s not a problem love.” He says. And when he turns his face to the side with his hand rubbing at his neck, probably embarrassed, you notice a pink tint to his cheeks.
“Ach, an’ where’s my “thank you”? I did more than this wee bairn.” Johnny whines. You notice he looks more like a puppy than a man, pouting and all.
You laugh and hide your mouth with your fingers. “Thank you, Johnny.” You say.
Johnny, while feeling appreciated now, noticed you hiding your pretty lips when you laughed or smiled.
He’d change that. They all would.
Five minutes turned into fifteen, fifteen turned into hours, hours turned into talking while trying to act like everything was normal, like you weren’t sandwiched between two men you invited in your house, all to deliver meat to be cooked for your anniversary.
You were still in the kitchen, sitting on a stool that accompanied the island and Simon and Johnny occupied the seats to the left and right of yours.
You were all talking about nothing and everything. Your favorite foods, what you liked and disliked, you, you, you.
You tried to shift the conversation to them, tried to ask them a question, but all they gave you were either blunt, vague answers or an excuse saying “our lives aren’t as exciting.”
As if you could call yours that. Years spent behind these four walls, cooking, cleaning, having to endure your husband’s verbal and unfortunately physical abuse, the townspeople, it was anything but exciting. Anything but everything bad.
But these men, they clung onto every word that escaped your lips as if you were a God. Their eyes never left your form, and their hands touched you as if you were made of glass.
You felt Simon’s hand brush against yours and you knew and felt Johnnys' eyes and hands on you constantly, as if past your face, your eyes, your skull they were picking away at your brain, peering into your memories and cradling your heart in theirs.
Your body felt hot. Overwhelmingly so, but also in a way that you'd only felt once upon a dream with your husband; before everything went to shit, before your hands seemed to taint everything it touched in his eyes, before the withering flowers and declarations of false love. You don’t know what to do anymore, don’t want to become the woman the entire town believed you to be, an impure lady, the type of woman who belongs in a brothel, a whore. It's not what you were, not what you are.
The sound of a car, your husbands' car, pulling into the driveway almost halted their movements.
Almost because even when you walked away from the kitchen, from them, to wait and greet your husband when he enters through the door, their touches and eyes still lingered, still left a warm phantom touch on your skin.
Your trance broke when you heard the key in the lock of the front door, the sound of your husband’s voice cursing when he realized it was the wrong key before he tried again.
You heard Simon and Johnny standing and you were glad because they were acting as if they were just about to leave. You looked back at them and saw Johnny raising his pointer finger to his lips and sending another wink to you, Simon’s eyes smiling at you, piercing your heart.
You fight the heat rising to your cheeks and turned to smile at your husband, who just entered the house.
He paid you no mind however, taking his coat off and throwing it into your arms, his briefcase hitting your foot and toppling on the floor, the sound echoing throughout the room.
He marched up to the men, the intruders, in his mind, and stood chest to chest with Simon, locking eyes with Johnny and looking at him with disgust, he turned and met the hard, charcoal eyes of Simon and matched his glare.
“And who the fuck are you?”
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- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !
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s4pphicghost · 2 months
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doing ellies eyeliner ⋆。˚ ❀
first post !! hope you guys will like it <3 (im sorry for mistakes, english is not my first language) feel free to correct me/give advice!!
!! palestine links !! & !! daily click to help !!
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your girlfriend frowned and crossed her arms at your words. "seriously? me and makeup?” she looked at you doubtfully. "yes!!" you cried out happily, “i’d really like to see how eyeliner would look on you.. please, ellie”, you looked at her with a soft, sweet look, trying to mentally convince her. the girl rolled her eyes jokingly. you were so excited by the idea, she just couldn’t upset you with refusal.
“okay..”, she sat on the bed, leaning on her hands and watching in a relaxed position as you rummaged through your makeup bag with enthusiasm. “gonna sit on my lap?” ellie grinned playfully. “only if it makes you more comfortable” you glanced at her and sat on her lap. she wrapped her arms around your waist and looked into your eyes. her touch sent pleasant goosebumps across your skin. you placed your hands on her cheeks and she leaned into your hands… you couldn’t help but smile. “close your eyes and don’t open until i tell you to”
ellie obediently closed her eyes. you spent a few seconds admiring your girl: freckles randomly scattered across her face, cute thick eyebrows and that scar... the features that made her stand out. you stared long enough, she realized what was happening, smiling without opening her eyes. noticing her reaction, you got down to business. you carefully traced the tip of your eyeliner along her lash line, trying not to move too fast. such thick and dark eyelashes, they always impressed you and you loved it. silence filled the room. you were so close to her, you could hear and feel her breath on your hands. the moment felt kind of intimate, it made you slightly nervous. your fingertips gently stroke the girl’s cheeks. she seemed very calm and relaxed, unlike you. ellie frowned when your movements became more confident, her eyelids twitched from your touch out of habit. you accidentally moved your hand with the eyeliner in the wrong direction. “fuck..” you whispered through a dissatisfied sigh and stood up from her. "whats wrong?" the absence of you in ellies hands, even for a few moments, upset the girl.
“you’re twitching too much, the line is crooked..” you returned to her lap with a cotton swab in your hands. she raised her head again. "too ticklish." she said sharply, her voice filled with playful annoyance. you carefully wiped away the crooked line of the eyeliner, trying not to press too hard on her thin skin. “be patient a little longer baby”, you kissed her forehead softly and again did your best trying to draw perfect lines. the girl put her hands back on your waist and squeezed a little, pulling you closer. she smirked in satisfaction, without opening her eyes. you melted under her touch, but you tried to keep your hand strong and make confident movements, even if your hands were a little shaky. after a few minutes of suffering, you got more or less accurate triangles. “open your eyes..” you closed your eyeliner and looked at your girlfriend with admiration. she frowned a little “ugh, this thing tightens the skin..”
you smirked contentedly and placed your hands on her shoulders. “you look so cute.. i knew this shape would suit you.” the girl smiles back at you, happy that you are happy with the result. “you’re such a pro”. “you didn’t even see it!”, you exclaimed, quickly got up from her lap and ran for the mirror. "here.." the girl was slightly surprised by her reflection. “wow.. this is really good,” she said, looking at herself from different angles. the eyeliner really did highlight her eye shape well and the forest green color of her eyes seemed to pop out more. “im surprised i even like it". a smile spread across your face and you began peppering your girlfriend’s face with endless amount of soft, small kisses. she laughed softly, feeling the warmth of your lips that made her blush a bit. her arms are wrapped tightly around your waist.
"what's next? you’re gonna dress me in your evening dress?” she asked jokingly through your nonstop kisses. you paused for a couple of seconds and looked at her. the delight on your face made it clear to ellie that she just made a big mistake. her eyes widened with slight embarrassment. "oh fuck no..."
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i would be really grateful for any feedback!! ty<3
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thisfanisgonesorry · 10 months
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groupie love — hobie brown
guitarists dont get as many groupies as you’d think they do. 😮 
tags: smut, vaginal sex, mirror sex, hairpulling, hookups go crazy, dom/sub, teasing/praise kink obv, creampie bc i forgot the condom at home, brief cockwarming. bro is a lovesick idiot fr. possessive as HELL. porn w feelings kinda? infatuation? idk theres feelings! im mentally ill! pussy so good that hes down bad! consent is sexy tho.. parasocial relationships arent
(but it’s so hard sometimes with the star when you have to share him with everybody; and i know what you’re thinking of, you want my groupie love)
🕸️
One thing led to another and he was leading me through the backstage entryway, his arm draped over my shoulder as he walked with a pep in his step, filled with adrenaline and trying to get it out of his system in ways that didn’t end in him pouncing on me. (Though admittedly, that’d be short lived.)
Backstage was mostly empty besides a few select crewmates who overall didn’t seem too phased by my presence. Hobie greeted them as he walked past, as if he knew each one personally. The rest of the band had seemingly dipped, and weren’t too worried about Hobie being missing from wherever they’d gone to hang out.
“Li’l lady wants to check out the green room.” He winked at one of the crew as he continued, dismissing them to give us space. The green room was nice but it wasn’t his destination in mind. He stood there for a minute, looking down at me briefly, before spinning dramatically and pushing his back against the dressing room door, sliding in and pressing me against the wall in a fairly smooth action.
“Don’t think anyone saw that?” I muttered out quickly, it was more of a question as I really didn’t see much from the spin itself, caught a little off guard by the sudden movement and unable to process much until I was pinned firmly against the wall. The dressing room was small, and he took advantage of the fact.
“M’hm, no.” He shook his head, leaning in slightly. “Nah, y’re all mine.” He continued.
His hands lingered on my waist, his fingertips reaching under the fabric and restraining himself as much as he could as he felt the soft skin underneath.
“You seem energised.” I laughed softly.
“I’m fine, jus’ got my blood pumping. Was a good show. Can I kiss you?” He spoke quickly to the point where if you weren’t paying attention, you would’ve missed it. There was a short moment of silence where the air hung heavy as he waited, oh, how he waited so very patiently.
“... Yeah.” I nodded.
His patience ran thin, and his lips harshly made contact with mine, almost pushing my head into the wall. What a way to get a concussion. He groaned into it for a moment, enjoying the taste and licking my bottom lip slightly. My hands loosely hung around his neck, 
“Bloody ‘ell...” He muttered, pulling away and going down my neck. His free hand reached to the door, locking it before anyone could walk in. He was kissing and licking my neck, letting small bitemarks dance across the skin.
He began tugging at the hem of my shirt anxiously, wanting to just strip me bare, bend me over, fuck my brains out, but all in due time.
“Doors soundproof.” He commented. “Let me—”
One arm was wrapped around his shoulders, grabbing a fistful of the leather jacket and tugging on it to beckon him forward as the other grabbed his hand, pushing it closer. In hindsight, it was kind of sweet how certain he was letting things be.
He quickly removed my shirt that had his own band’s logo on it, throwing it to the floor and fumbling on the bra, running his large palms over the fabric. I leaned forward to kiss him again and his hands dropped to my hips, hastily (and harshly) dragging me to the dressing table, pushing me up against it. 
Our lips were reconnected once again, though the kisses were messy. My arm was still around his neck, my other on his chest. His hands began to slightly shimmy down my shorts and he moaned into the kiss. “S’pretty, darlin’, so..” He mumbled breathlessly, pulling away enough to let me kick off the shorts (albeit, struggling to because of my boots) and for him to shrug off his jacket. Both articles disappeared somewhere into the room to be determined later.
My hands lingered to his hips, reaching up and feeling his toned abs from under his shirt. “Y’so hot, Hobie.” I moaned back, feeling the way his stomach tensed under my fingertips.
“What? like ‘m not meant t’be fit?” He tried to joke as he palmed my tits again. 
“Didn’t mean it like that.”
He only responded with a laugh, kissing my neck and collarbone as he removed the bra, thrown to the side and his hands explored downwards in an attempt to remove the last of clothing.
“This aint fair.” I breathed, seeing him still fully dressed.
“Yeh, I know.” He responded, taking his shirt off, another piece lost to the room.
He ended up turning the light off, so the only light in the room was the one radiating from the mirror itself. He looked good like this but I guess that was the point. His face was flushed, it would be hard to tell otherwise if it wasn’t for the heat that it was giving off, you could literally feel it from across the room; his eyes were hyper focused and his lips were swollen slightly.
He leaned forward to kiss me again. “Y’re so beautiful.” He groaned.
“I was about to say the same thing.”
I reached down boldly, my fingers twitching to unbutton his jeans, to pull the zip down, to—
“Y’re gonna hurt y’self.” He joked, swatting my shaking hands away. “Touch yourself f’me.” He asked softly, trying to speak clearly despite his otherwise dishevelled behaviour.
I slid my fingers between my legs, toying with him as he watched between kisses. 
“C’mon, darl’.” He purred sweetly. “Work y’self open f’me, please?”
He swallows the moans that leave my mouth as I push my fingers inside, weakly thrusting as he continues to kiss me, hovering over me as he palms his hardness through his jeans.
“Hobie, c’mon.” I groaned, getting impatient with him. All he wanted to do was toy and tease me; holding me closely as his eyes scanned my naked body like a piece of meat, kissing as much of the flesh as he could, longing for the taste and feel under his lips.
“Alr’, alr’.” He drawled finally.
He pulled away enough to create distance between us, we both stood in anticipation, catching our breath slightly as he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zip. The jeans themselves were grungy, and his dick freed itself from the tight confines as quickly as it could, shimmying the jeans down to his thighs.
“No underwear? Anarchist goes commando?” I asked breathlessly as I continued to work myself, yet finding humour in comparing him to a militia.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Y/n. Don’t.” He warned.
“You go pantless just in case some pretty girl would fuck you tonight?”
I poked my tongue out between my teeth, biting down on it slightly, wanting nothing more than to be testing my luck with him. He grabbed my wrists, removing my hand from my insides and holding the sticky, shiny fingers up. It looked filthy in the bright light, he tutted slightly before licking the fingers clean, grinding his hard cock against the slick folds.
He held both my wrists in place, making it impossible for me to fight him with the movement of his hips, he was careful that he wouldn’t accidentally push himself into me, whether or not that accident was with his own free will or not. He was enjoying this, the torturous nature of it all. Yeah, definitely don’t talk back to him.
“Feels s’good like this.” He tried to speak clearly; “Could jus’ fuck you like this, yeah? Cum all over y’r cunt, don’t even go in?”
“I’m sorry.” I quickly spoke when I realised he could just stay like this.
“You’re sorry?”
“Please, Hobie, fuck me real good. I’m sorry, didn’t mean it.” I pleaded, though he could tell the words were only half hearted.
He tried to laugh but it got swallowed into a groan. He threw his head back and released my wrists. “Yeah, yeah. C’mon.” He spoke, finding amusement in it. He hissed slightly at the loss of contact as he turned me around to look in the mirror, bending me over the dressing table.
His breathing quickened as he admired the view of me bent over the table, elbows supporting my weight and my pretty eyes looking up at him through the mirror. He swallowed thickly, still grinding lazily against the wetness as he tried to shimmy his pants down further, they got about a little past his knees before getting snagged on his boots and he realised that it wouldn’t go much further than that.
“Ngh.. Fuck, y’so good.” He struggled out, a low moan erupting from his throat. “Gettin’ m’cock all nice ‘n’wet.”
“Hobie, I’m sorry.” I threw my head forward, not wanting to look at our reflections. “Fuck me, please, want you.”
“I know.” He groaned as he aligned himself. He gave a harsh tug on my hair, forcibly making me look in the mirror. “Look. Watch.” He panted.
He slid his thickness deep inside in one slow, stuttery motion. I watched carefully, my mouth fell open and my eyes threatened to close. His eyebrows knitted together and his mouth mimicked mine, falling agape.
“Oh my fucking god.” I moaned out, unable to hold my head up but quickly felt the tug on my hair as he held my limp neck in position.
He buried himself completely, “Look at how I’m stretchin’ you out, y/n, my darlin’.” He grinned lopsidedly.
He began thrusting slowly, watching the faces that I made, his eyebrows stayed knitted like he was focused on my expressions and nothing else.
“So good, Hobie.” I muttered, my head threatening to dip forward if it wasn’t for his grip on my hair. I tried to squirm away from him and his grip on my hip got tighter. “So big.”
“Yeah?” He spoke condescendingly, relishing at the way I felt around him. “Y’ve been dreamin’ about this, haven’t ya’?”
“Mhm, all the time.” I moaned quietly. “Fantasise about y’so bad.” 
“I bet’cha always wondered how good I’d feel buried deep in y’cunt.” He commented, picking up his pace as he felt the warmth swallow him perfectly; it wasn’t necessarily rough or fast, but the size of his cock as it nestled all the way in was almost too much. Almost. “The real things s’much better, ain’t it?”
“Ah! Yes!” I cried, reaching back to push at his hips.
“Takin’ me s’well, darlin’.” He groaned, not letting up. He wasn’t being relentless but the position and the harsh pound of his cock was all too much at once, I closed my eyes tight and he fought the urge to give another harsh tug on my hair.
“S’deep, Hobes, baby—” I groaned, though it was immediately followed by pathetic whines which completely diminished the point I was trying to make.
“Why y’pushin’ at me, sweet thing? What’s wrong?” He teased, knowing damn well that there wasn’t the faintest of an issue.
“So deep.. So big. Slow down.”
“What? Y’don’t think y’can take it?” He joked through slurred speech, giving a particularly harsh thrust.
“Mhm!” I jerked forward with a whine, then feeling the harsh tug on my hair as my body pulled away from his tight grip.
“I think y’can take it jus’ fine.” He continued teasing, still desperately nudging my insides. “M’pricks too big f’you, ain’t it, darlin’?”
I shook my head weakly, keeping my eyes glued on his face as he fucked me from behind. “No, mhm— I can take it.” I struggled out.
“Y’doin’ s’good.” He slurred with a groan.
The audible wet sounds began to fill the dressing room and I could do nothing but let out a pathetic whine as I could feel the sticky liquid make a mess on both our thighs. The slickness was making it easier for him to slide in and out, using it to his advantage to fuck into me even harder. It did nothing to ease the slight slapping sound, and if that door wasn’t soundproof like Hobie claimed, we were probably being louder than the show itself was.
I shook my head weakly, jerking forward at his movements and taking whatever he would give me. “So good. So deep. So big.” I rambled, the only words that my brain could come up with at the given moment.
“I want y’to watch, darlin. Look at y’r pretty face as I fuck you.” He spoke, knowing I wouldn’t be able to open my eyes in the slightest, coming across like nothing but a cock drunk groupie whore, though I guess, it wasn’t far off. “Y’re basically droolin’ for me.”
“Keep talkin’ to me like that, holy shit, make me cum.”
“Eyes up here. On me. Y’got it.” He praised, his harsh tugs became more gentle as he got more stern in keeping my eyes on the view. “Keep lookin’, c’mon, darlin’, look. Y’re s’beautiful. All f’me, look at ya. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”
His voice began to ramble, whines and groans leaving his throat at intervals. 
“I’m trying.” I mumbled out; “It’s hard.”
“Darl’, ‘m not gon’ keep tellin ya’ to keep y’head up.” He moaned, removing his hand from my hair and rubbing figure 8’s right where I needed it. “Yeah, y’re gonna take it.” He panted, leaning over my body to press kisses on my shoulder and neck. “Take it, darlin’, doin’ good. Doin’ so good.”
I leaned my head back on his shoulder, looking down through half-lidded eyes at the filthy view of him fucking me into his dressing table.
“See? You can handle watchin y’self gettin’ fucked like a good girl.”
“Hobie, ‘m gonna cum.” I moaned, struggling to watch myself but worried that if I stopped, he’d pull his hands away from me.
“Watch y’self, good girl.” He praised again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Fuck, can feel y’squeezin’ me.” He whined. “Cum for me, darlin’, s’pretty when y’clench this big cock, yeah? ‘M stretching it out, y’gonna be so perfect f’me.”
I took a bite out of my knuckle as I felt it hit, he slowed down slightly but kept the movements methodical besides the gradual slowing as he praised me throughout it.
“Hobie—” I cried out.
The way I clenched around him made him harshly hold onto my hip, the moans filled the room loudly as he fucked me through the wave. Small purrs of praise were audible but it was almost impossible to focus.
“You right?” He rasped out, slowing his movements to a halt. He would’ve cum right then and there if he didn’t have half the mind to prolong himself.
“Mhm.” I hummed, dazed and confused. “Keep goin’.” I acknowledged, wanting to make him feel good.
“Wish I could fuck a pretty thing like you after all m’shows.” He spoke sweetly in my ear, thrusting up again for his own orgasm, it started slow but he increased his pace when he began riling himself up with ideas. “Tease y’before so y’re all wet and ready when ‘m done.” He laughed softly. “Y’can help me warm up m’fingers for the guitar.”
He spoke softly and calmly as he could, feeling the wetness twitch around him from overstimulation. He kept this slow as he could, knowing that he didn’t want to end things just yet. His dazed eyes tried to memorise every detail he could; hooking up with a groupie meant the chance of never seeing them again, his movements on my clit picking up too; he was desperate to bring me pleasure, he needed this just as much as I did, which was saying a lot.
I weakly tried to keep my head up, watching his face attentively, he looked completely dishevelled with need; something about this was driving him crazy but all I could focus on was how good he felt.
He started kissing my neck again before deciding to ask a question he knew I probably wouldn’t answer otherwise. “Why ain’t you got’a boyfr’nd?” He grunted over my limp body, feeling himself hit the deepest parts and watching me react to it. My vision would go white and I’d jerk into the feeling.
“Don’t want one. Only want you.” I spoke matter-of-factly despite my dazed demeanour.
“Fuck, Y/n, Don’t say that.” He choked. “Wan’ keep you all f’myself.”
I groaned, pressing myself closer against his body. His arms wrapped around my torso, pulling me to stand upright and my arms reached around to touch him the best I could, though his hand stayed glued to the pussy that he’d grown infatuated with.
“Y’re gonna be thinkin’ about this for a long time, yeah?” He breathed. “Gonna think about m’cock fuckin’ into y’cunt?”
“Hobie—”
“I feel y’gettin’ close again. God, want y’so fuckin’ bad.”
His hand took a faster pace than what it previously was, rubbing hard and fast circles into my clit, wanting to feel me be undone on him when he cums.
“Better than I could’ve imagined.” I panted in admission.
“Y’re.. ‘M right there.” He moaned. “Y’so hot, makin’ me s’hard. Gonna make m’cum.”
There was nothing I could do to respond besides lewdly take what he was giving me, nodding weakly and trying to watch the view in front of me. He looked so beautifully debauched, and feeling his ragged breathing against my spine was something I didn’t know I needed to feel, something I unknowingly longed for.
“Mhm, y’can stay wit’ us.” He nodded, as if what he was rambling made any sense. “Bring you along, keep you f’shows. Darlin’, you’d be my perfect li’l groupie..”
His pussy-whipped drunk ramblings sounded like a love confession as he neared his release, knowing he didn’t want it to be over so soon but desperately wanting to feel the warm, tensing tightness around him as he filled me as much as he could.
“I want you, I want you.” I nodded back, too cock-drunk to care. 
“Cum f’me, y/n, cum with me, need— Oh fuckin’ shit.”
He groaned as he felt the clenching of my walls around his hard cock, desperately wanting to take him for all he’s got. Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me is the only phrase that repeated in my head as I felt the twitching and nearing signs.
“Give it to me, please, give it to me.” I pleaded through orgasm.
His body shook with want and he forced his eyes to stay open, needing to watch this unfold before him in a weak attempt to convince himself that it was real. Keenly watching the way my face contorted as I came on him, my eyes barely open enough to see the way his face mirrored mine. He let out small pants and whines, before his hips pushed deeply, his hips stuttering weakly as he filled me with his cum.
I felt the warm liquid between my legs, throwing my head back and sighing as I tried to relax from the high. Beautiful afterglow; beautiful boy. He collapsed forward slightly, holding me in place but using one arm to support us.
“It’s a really nice tour bus. Don’t even need y’own bed, just sleep in mine.” He continued in a whisper, pressing a soft kiss into the sticky flesh of my neck, nuzzling the hair away.
We stood for a moment before he pulled a chair from the side of the dressing table, slowly sitting us on it and keeping the position, his arms wrapped around me tightly like he never planned to let go.
I squirmed at the feeling. “Mhm.. Y’think?” I laughed softly; not taking him close to serious.
His eyes were heavy and he continued to look at us in the mirror, an unreadable expression as he buried his head behind my shoulder, his eyes barely poking above the flesh for him to admire the view. “I’m serious.” He mumbled awkwardly before going to a complete whisper. “Stay?”
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miniwheat77 · 11 months
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Nasty. (Mean!König x Reader.)
!CW! NSFW, König being a big meanie, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight dub con, poorly translated German, this is short forgive me, (sorry if I missed any.)
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Your nerves are completely shot as you stand in a line. You don’t know why, but he’s so so mean. So mean. He hates you for some reason. Absolutely hates you.
You’re lined up with other Sergeants, waiting nervously as Colonel König passes each of you. “Y/L/N, 50 push ups. im Augenblick.”
You know better than to argue, so you drop to the floor, beginning to do your push ups. Trying not to cry. You wish you could just know why he’s so mean to you. You just didn’t understand, you’d never done anything. You were always kind to him. Always obeyed him. When you finish your push ups, he’s excused everyone else and he’s watching you intently. “Colonel.” You ask, out of breath. He looks at you. “Can I ask why you gave me 50 push ups?” He stands there, eyes dark as he stares upon you.
“50 more.” He breathes. “Now.” A sigh leaves your lips and you obey him, dropping down to your knees again and propping yourself up. “When you’re finished you can go to bed.” He breathes. You choose to ignore him, tired of the way he’s treating you. He walks away down the hallway, but watches to make sure you actually finish your push ups. You do. He smirks to himself. You stand up when you finish and walk down the hallway to your room. You don’t understand.
A couple days later, you wait patiently for an order. You’ve been burned out completely, he’s making you run laps around the base and your eyes are burning from the sweat dripping down your face. The sun is beating down on you and he won’t let you stop for anything. He disappeared a while ago and you haven’t seen him. Your vision starts to blur, and you look confused. Legs slowing to a stop against your will. You start to see other colors, brighter colors filling your vision. That’s all you remember.
König forgot. He went inside for a second and he was going to head back out to relieve you but he got distracted. He’s sitting in his office when he hears yelling, and stands up to peek outside. Curious what the commotion is. He sees another Sergeant bursting through the door carrying you, and his stomach falls. “I need a medic!” He calls. Others flood the hallway and a medic appears. They’re rushing you back to the infirmary. “What’s going on?” She asks. “I don’t know, I found her outside passed out.”
She sighs. “She’s having a heat stroke, we need to cool her temperature down.” König walks away from the infirmary. He knows he’s a little extreme sometimes.
“My office, now.” His stern voice sends chills up your spine. You follow after him.
He closes the door behind you and walks around you, staring you down. “I said 50 push ups.” He crosses his arms. “I will do them, but I want to know why first.” You breath. He mumbles something under his breath in German, you don’t hear him. “Now.” He breathes. “No.” You breathe. “I deserve to know why.” He let’s out a deep chuckle and you know you’re digging yourself a hole, but you’re tired of this. “You listen to me, girl.” He growls. “I don’t have to explain myself. I don’t have to tell you why. I say jump, you fucking jump.” He growls. “dummes Mädchen.” He growls. You know what he’s just said. “Fuck you.” You growl. His eyes snap to you, wide. He’s pissed. In one second, he’s got you slammed up against a wall. Hand around your throat. He’s watching you turn a shade of red. “Fine. You want to fucking disobey me?” He breathes. You can feel his spit particles landing on your face. He’s seething. “Ich zeige dir, was ich mit bösen Mädchen mache.” He growls, he lets go of your throat and spins you around. Forcing you down onto his desk.
Your eyes widen as he tears your cargo pants down your legs, forcing them down. What is this? Why is he reacting like this? You feel the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance and in one hard thrust, he forces his cock into you and a gasp gets stuck in your throat as he starts to thrust himself into you. He’s stretching you and it hurts. Tears prick your eyes at the intrusion, a cry leaving your lips.
Luckily your body gets used to him. Your hands clutch his desk and he groans out. Hands holding your hips in a death grip, sure to leave bruises in their wake. His belt rattles violently with each of his brutal thrusts, the massive man makes you look small. Watching the way your pussy stretches around his massive cock has his eyes rolling back. You’re quiet for a while, but his thrusts halt immediately when a moan leaves your lips. He spins you around, pupils blown out. He can’t believe his ears. “Do you like this?” He asks. You’re leaning up against his desk, body exposed to his judgmental eyes. You stay quiet which earns a sharp slap to your cheek. You nod your head shyly. He grasps your thighs, forcing you back onto his desk again, returning his cock to your weepy hole. He thrusts in again and you cry out. “Ah! König please- slower please-“ you whimper. “You can take it, we both know you can.” He growls. He squeezes your breasts too hard and you whimper out, he’s so mean. “You like when I’m mean to you, dumme Hure” he growls. “You like when I bully your slutty pussy. I know how wet you get for me when I’m mean to you. You like it. So take it. Nimm mich, du verdammte Schlampe”
A cry leaves your lips as he bullies your cunt. Thrusting into you hard, not giving you anytime to adjust to him or his massive size. His desk is sliding across the floor with a violent screech, it doesn’t phase him. Not even a little bit. His groans that he’s letting out, they’re something different. You’ve never heard him being pleasured before, only angry at you. Maybe this is how you could make him happier. Maybe this is how you fix him being mean to you. You’ve got a death grip on his desk, his cock is pushing into your cervix and it’s too much. Bordering uncomfortable but you don’t dare tell him that. You keep your legs open for him, letting him use you. His moans are getting a little more desperate. Whimpers almost. “Oh fuck, so tight.” He gasps. He pushes one of your legs up a little higher, cock sliding even further into you. How on earth you were handling him was beyond you. You can’t help as your eyes start to water, tears beginning to spill from your eyes at the intensity of his massive cock. He’s overwhelming you. You can’t help it. “König?” You ask. “What?” He growls, “can I cum?” You whimper. You can see the way the small wrinkles around his eyes form, he’s smiling. “Now that’s a good girl, asking for permission.” He breathes. “Just a little longer.” He breathes.
You’re right on the edge. He’s pushing you over it quickly and you don’t know if you can hold on. “Ich sagte, warte”
You nod your head eagerly and he’s smiling down at you again. His cock twitches slightly and he’s about to cum. “Cum now, Liebling” he mumbles. You fall apart completely beneath him. Thighs shaking, body shivering. Chills arising on your skin. Your eyes roll back and you’re sucked into another dimension for a minute. The sound of him panting is bringing you back down to earth. He slides out of you and you let out a gasp. Realizing what’s just happened, he’s cum in you. Your eyes widen slightly. Worry filling you up.
“Get dressed and go clean up.” He orders. You nod your head, obeying him immediately.
The feeling that settles into your chest, sadness. Because no matter how much you offered your body up for him. Your holes, he was always just going to be mean.
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