#please tell me if I'm taking it from you...
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
missdynamighttt · 3 days ago
Text
fantasizing about bf! katsuki paying for his pretty little girlfriend's nails because he wants to spoil you rotten.
at first, you were reluctant to book an appointment because you didn't have the time or the money. however, your pro hero boyfriend was wealthy, insistent, and super fucking stubborn.
“woman, if it’s something you want, i’ll pay for it," katsuki says softly, enjoying the feeling of resting his chin on the top of your head.
you were currently cuddling on your shared bed in the apartment, one of those slow days where you both had nothing to do but relax in each others arms. "i can drive you there if its a problem. no big deal.”
"katsuki, i can't ask you to do that," you say, looking up at him. "its too much. i'll just buy press ons or something—"
katsuki’s face scrunches up in the disgust at the idea of you using those press ons. back when you just moved in a few months into the relationship, those damn press ons were always everywhere around the apartment.
and sometimes, it'd get awkward when you're digging your nails into his flesh, moaning softly around him as he thrusts into you but then you make him stop half-way because your nail fell from the bed.
it got to the point where he found one of them under the drawer where you kept your... toys, and he knew they had to go. it took you some convincing, so he wasn't about let his hard work die in vain now.
"fuck no. i ain’t letting you walk around wearin' that cheap ass shit again," he scowled at you. "and the hell you can’t ask me. you're not askin', i'm offerin.”
"i dunno, katsuki..." you bit your bottom lip, reluctant to accept. it was nice that your boyfriend wanted to treat you but you couldn't help but feel guilty. "i don't wanna bother you. i don't need it that much 'nyway. and you could just spend your money on.. well, other things."
"the only thing botherin' me is you being difficult," he pouts at you, leaning down to give your lips a soft peck. "so, sweets, shut up. just let me take care of you, alright?"
and you were grateful you let him take care of you as you admired your freshly done nails a few days later, the glossy finish catching the light perfectly. you couldn’t stop smiling, especially when you remembered telling your nail tech about katsuki and she told you: "girl, hes so doing this because hes gonna propose. please say yes, for the love of god!"
of course, you wanted to express your gratitude for him. and what better way to thank him by wrapping your hands around his cock, fingers lingering on his length, showing off your new nails to him?
"fuck," katsuki hisses, breath shallow as he looks down at you. "god, baby, you look so pretty like this..."
you were on your knees, only wearing his shirt and your panties as a hand jerks off his length. the other holds his hand, fingers intertwined as you mouthed at his cock. you licked on the throbbing, pink tip, sucking the precum out of him with a blissed out expression.
you almost looked like you were in a trance. and seeing you there, looking all pretty and disheveled like a succubus, never failed to make his cock hard.
"yeah?" you look up at him with smiling eyes, pulling away from his cock with a soft, wet pop, rubbing a thumb on his aching tip before flicking your tongue at it again.
katsuki can’t hold back the soft moan that leaves his lips, his head lolling back as he tries to keep his breathing under control. he groans, his hips bucking against your touch.“fuckin' hell, woman, yeah.. so pretty.. just like that..."
katsuki's hand tightens around yours, looking at your newly manicured nails. he lifts your hand up, admiring them. the glossy finish really does look so pretty on you.
“fuck. they look so beautiful,” he murmurs, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "look so beautiful wrapped around my cock..."
"thank you, baby.." you flush a little, your tongue swirling around his tip. "..really appreciate it, i do. hope this serves as a nice thank you.."
katsuki’s face is tinged with a faint blush, his expression softening at your words.
“no need to thank me, sweets. your happiness is all the thanks i need. but this— shit,” he lets out a low moan when you suck on his tip again. "this is always.. a nice surprise..”
"surprise?" you smile. "you didn't think i'd do this to you..." you lap up his tip in between words. "after being so nice to me?"
katsuki lets out a quiet laugh, “you wanted to make me feel good, sweets? yeah? that why you’re on your knees for me?”
he gives you a playful grin, watching as your hand continues to move over his cock. his free hand tucks a strand on hair in between your ears, cupping your cheek. “always my good girl..”
you flush with embarrassment, thighs clenching from his words. "shut up.. bet if i bought you something you like, you'd go down on me too..."
katsuki can’t help but bark out a laugh at your comment, the image of you buying him a gift and him then going down on you was an appealing thought. but. he grabs your chin and tilts it up, forcing you to look at him and slowing down the pace.
“oh, baby. i’d make you feel so good. i'd eat you out like you were my last meal."
he gestures for you to open your mouth, his thumb tugging down your chin. and when you do, he suddenly spits on your tongue. you felt strangely vulnerable, swallowing it as his thumb rubs your swollen lips.
"but no way you’re buying me shit. that’s my job. to spoil you," his eyes darken at the sight of you sucking on his thumb, roaming over the concave of your mouth.
embarassment rose to your cheeks as you looked up at him, feeling flustered. "but... i wanna spoil you too."
he lets out a low hiss, feeling the vibrations of your hum around his thumb. he pulls his thumb out, his hand coming down to grab your chin, leaning down to face you.
"don't even think about it, sweets. i'm not asking," he tilts his head at you with a pout. "if you so much as buy me a pack of gum, i’m going to take you on a trip to bali."
your eyes widened in surprise, not sure how to, and voice your concern. a trip to bali would be great, but you just wanted to give him something too. "isn't that... uhm, isn't that a bit much?"
"don't give a shit. just let me have this one, alright?" he sighs, looking down at you.
"i want to take care of you," katsuki stroked your cheek with his thumb, a small smile creeping onto his face. "i like seeing that smile on your face when i do. makes me happy."
you felt your heart almost burst, looking at him with what feels like so much affection. he was just showing you so much love, how could you not melt?
katsuki knew he was getting soft, clicking his tongue at you. he scoffs, rolls his eyes and squeezes your cheek. "your nails looks cute anyway. got that?"
you bit your lip. whats the worse he could do when you bought him something anyway? after a moment of contemplation, you nodded, katsuki's grin spreading across his lips.
"good. now, get up here and gimme a kiss."
you nodded again, your heart racing as you stood up and perched yourself on his lap, breath hitching when you feel his cock press against your damp panties before pulling him in for a gentle, but passionate kiss.
katsuki groans into the kiss as you straddle his lap, his hands immediately finding your hips and pressing you down against his bulge. you can feel how hard he is beneath you, whimpering as he deepens the kiss.
“such a pretty thing,” katsuki murmurs, feeling how wet you are against him, looking down at the heat of your arousals. “gettin' me this hard and still having this on…”
katsuki's finger tugs on your panties as he kisses you in between words. he fists his cock, and hits the fat tip against your panties, hissing softly from underneath you. "you're so fuckin' wet, sweets, and i've barely even touched you..."
"katsuki..." you whimper, whining as you feel the head of his cock against you, almost kissing your clit through your panties. "please... can't handle it anymore... please, j-just—"
katsuki lets out a soft growl, leaning into your shoulder to bite on the curve of the skin. you squeal when you feel his lips and teeth graze your shoulder, sinking into your flesh, just wanting more of him, whining his name.
"please what, baby?" he murmurs, kissing the skin he's bruised on you. "be a good girl and use your words."
"wanna.. say thank you," you gasp, slowly grinding yourself on him. "please... please, fuck me.. katsuki.."
katsuki grins against your skin. there she was. his needy little thing he loved so much, practically begging to be ruined.
you’re suddenly on your back, the couch cushion soft against your back.
“atta girl.. now we’re getting somewhere,” his hands are already on your shirt, roughly yanking it up. “you gonna be a good girl and do what i tell you?”
you nodded eagerly, breathless as you let him strip you. not like you wanted anything else anyway. you tug down hard on your panties, tossing them to the floor and leaving you naked, your soft skin hitting the cold air.
katsuki watches as you kick off your panties, clearly looking all too pleased. he shifts, his torso hovering above you and caging you in between the couch. one hand moves up to your chin, pinning you to the couch and forcing you to look at him.
“you’re gonna cum screaming my name, got it?”
you hold onto his back, nodding as you whine from underneath him, ready to take what he could give you.
and when your newly-manicured nails digged into his skin as he thrusts into you, hot red nail marks decorating his back, katsuki felt nothing but pure bliss.
1K notes · View notes
suiana · 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
cw: matriarchy, yandere! househusband, fem reader, this is a work of fiction, please don't read further if you're uncomfortable, thanks!
it's the 1950s. men have become the caretakers of the house while women have been tasked with being the breadwinner. the age of revolution, they say! a time period where societal norms have completely flipped. a society where it's a woman's world.
as a woman, you're expected to marry a respectable man. one who knows how to care for the household and love you like a loving man.
thankfully, you've found one. your highschool sweetheart that is just the sweetest thing ever. handsome, tall, and knows his way with tending to homely duties. he even loves you like it's his last day alive!
he's basically society's ideal man. and he's your husband.
but you don't know how to tell him that you want to get a divorce. that you can't keep up with his... oddly obsessive behavior that's suffocating you. how you seem to dread going home, expecting a warm welcome only to get hit by a barrage of accusatory questions of whether you're cheating on him or not.
you love him, you do. but your husband has changed for the worse ever since you two got married a few months ago. perhaps a few weeks after your honeymoon. you know how people are, questioning why there's still no child even after a few months of marriage.
and it's not that you two are infertile. you're just not ready for one yet. you've explained it to him, you want to focus in your career first. your husband should understand that, shouldn't he? he's a man after all.
yet it seems that he thinks otherwise. constantly doing it, asking whether you're seeing others, whether you really love him or not...
it's annoying. and frankly, you've had enough.
you know, you know. men are emotional creatures. they get anxious and angry easily. they just can't help it! it's in their nature after all. but still... if he could just be a little more understanding... a little less... paranoid...
"a d-divorce?"
he gasps, taking a wary step back as he drops the stack of papers to the floor. his eyes are wide, body frozen to the ground. horrified, you could see it in his eyes.
"but honey... we're so happy, aren't we? you love me, don't you?"
you let out a sigh, pinching your nose bridge at his words. yes... yes you do love him. and you still do, you think. but how can you stand a single more day of him acting like you're going out cheating when really, you're working your back off so you can spoil your darling husband?
"I'm just not satisfied with how you're behaving."
you suppose that will work. how will he ever resist a woman's word? not in this era, clearly.
you watch as your husband stares at you, face pale as he brings his hands to his face, murmuring words of despair while he shakes his head.
no, no, no.
this couldn't be happening.
he thought you two were perfect together! what changed?! you love him, don't you? you still come home to him everyday, give him a peck as you walk through those doors! everything was fine! everything is fine!
no, you must've been brainwashed by someone else.
by some... some other manwhore. a good for nothing man who didn't get a proper education, surely!
that's the only other explanation. you must've been seduced! after all, you're a good woman. you could never do any wrong. not in the eyes of the law, not by society, and definitely not in his eyes.
because you're his wife. his beloved wife. you're a good breadwinner, you work hard, you bring him out on dates, you don't abuse him like other wives do...
and in return, he's the perfect husband! he cooks the best food, doesn't he?! all hot and delicious! you said so yourself! he dresses how you like, works out, keeps the house neat and tidy for you, does groceries and makes sure that everything is perfect!
sure, he's a little bit on the protective and anxious side... but can you blame him? you're gorgeous! he's worried you'll be stolen from him while you work! by- by those good for nothing guys that think they should be independent. who do they think they are, working in public when they should be someone's husband? spewing those gender equality crap that you have been talking about too? you've been poisoned. surely.
and the fact that he's not able to provide a child yet? of course he's going to be anxious and overthink! can you blame him? he's just a man!
"please... please don't leave. I'll do anything. anything! you can't leave me! I'll die without you!"
he feels his heart race, sweat lining the skin of his forehead. he's hyperventilating now. can't take the fact that you actually want to leave him.
it's not real.
It's not real.
It's not real.
and yet, the way that you're looking at him is proving him otherwise.
"but you can't leave me! we've been together since high school!"
he tries to plead with you. but you're stone-faced and look like you're not looking to negotiate. his palms grow clammy as he desperately racks his brain for words.
"I'll change! I'll stop... stop asking whether you're cheating on me- you're not, right? you wouldn't cheat on me! i know you wouldn't! you're just misguided!"
then you let out a soft sigh and he feels the last of his restraint snap.
"no! you can't leave me!"
in a second, he's on you, pinning you to the ground. all rationality has left his body but can you blame him? he's just a man. men get emotional easily. that's why it's better for them to stay at home, away from politics where they could easily cause millions of death over a small dispute. at home, where they belong.
"I'm yours! forever and now! you can't just... just throw me away! we took vows! you can't break them!"
fat tears roll down his cheeks, his hands pinning your wrists to the ground. despite the fact that they're more emotional, men have always been stronger. isn't that why they had to go school to be taught how to control their violence? to not raise a hand at anyone no matter how emotional they get?
"I'm your husband! i would never leave you! you can't just leave me too!"
then something in the air shifts and he sniffles softly, gripping your wrists tightly. for the first time in your life, you feel fear. fear for your own life. fear that your darling husband inflicted on you.
"you're not leaving me."
...
"hey have you heard? apparently y/n hasn't been coming into the office lately... I'm worried for her."
"yeah... and i heard that her husband is visiting some rural area for a short getaway. my husband told me."
"i hope she's alright... she should go find him soon. how will her husband ever survive on his own? what if he gets ill?"
and accompany him you will.
for now, no one will ever bother you two ever again. man or woman, society and law alike. just two sould, far from everyone else. as it should be.
as it will always be.
580 notes · View notes
pseudowho · 13 hours ago
Text
Link to Furry Little Problem (where you, Nanami Kento's wife, are turned into a cat for a week) here!
And, a link to @yuutaguro's exquisite art for Part One
It had been almost a week since you had turned back into a human, and Kento had seen most traces of the four-paws-and-sharp-claws Cat You, bleed away.
Most, at least; what concerned Kento, was that you weren't completely normal. He could overlook the way you would turn, and turn, and turn on the spot before settling onto the sofa. He could forgive the way you would spin on a pinhead, phantom ears pricked and still as the grave, at every little noise past the front door.
Kento drew the line, however, when you shot up from the dining table mid dinner conversation, to run headfirst into the patio doors with a thud. The sparrow that had landed just outside twittered, and flew away, as you sat, dazed. Kento buried his face in his hands.
"I'm sure it's not that bad, Nanami," Shoko had tutted, inviting you both into her office. "I'm sure it will just...just take, uh..."
You had been forced to pause at the door, to bat and chew at the loping leaves of her little pot plant. As Kento, ever patient and gentle, guided you with whispered reassurances away from the pot plant, and to the sofa, Shoko's clipboard drooped.
You dug your nails into the couch for a few seconds, pricking it all over, before sitting down in your seat with a satisfied little wiggle, and a smile.
Shoko's eyes flicked from you, to Kento, to you, and began, awkward.
"Let's...get a baseline, shall we? See how much of the cat still remains." Shoko reached behind her, rustling in a bag, before placing something long and green on the table before you. "I have a cucumb--"
You shot into the air like you were on springs, landing with a crash behind Shoko's sofa. The room was silent. Shoko's cigarette idly smoked in her ashtray. Kento buried his fingers into his hair, his elbows on his knees.
"Tell me...uh...tell me some of your experiences from the Cat Week, please, Nyanyami--"
Kento glared at Shoko.
The top of your head rose slowly up from behind the sofa, staring at the cucumber with an unhealthy amount of suspicion.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"Stop that," Kento snapped at you, pausing the movie. You, toe-beaned and glossy and sweet, tilted your furry little head sideways. Kento could almost see the question mark over your head as you stared at him, unblinking and eerie.
The room was dark, save for the little lamp in the corner. The movie sat, inanimate. Kento felt a prickle up his spine; the shadows were thrown long and the room felt many-eyed and still. Kento stared you down. You stared Kento down. Kento narrowed his eyes. You tilted your head to the other side. A clock ticked.
"Meow," you said.
"I mean it," rumbled Kento, stern, "stop it."
You blinked, and chirped, and turned back to the movie. Kento breathed out a shaky sigh, and restarted it.
Five minutes later, Kento dropped the remote with a clatter, cursing.
"Stop staring behind me-- there's nothing behind me-- that's it, we're going to bed--"
Your unwavering gaze into the gloom behind Kento, was interrupted by him picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder. You chirped in protest.
"Mew-- meooooow--"
"I warned you, stop being creepy. It's bedtime for you, madam."
"Meow."
"Yes, I'll rub your tummy, just stop doing the thing--"
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"I'm recommending Ino for the initiative. I think it would be good experience for him, in his plan to progress to--to...darling, please--"
Kento's face on the computer screen was obscured first by furry little face, then a body that dragged hair across his chest, and finally a jaunty little tail, raised and flicking. The other Zoom call participants were silent as Kento lowered you to the floor, where you fizzled up at him in tiny irritation.
"I apologise," Kento sighed to awkward silence, "just my wife--"
Clatter-- clatter-- clack.
The screen flickered. The Zoom call expanded, and shrunk, and expanded, and shrunk, and finally ended. Kento leaned back in his chair, watching you settle on his keyboard. You batted at the mouse, until it landed with a sad little clatter onto the office floor.
You looked at Kento, all pink nose and innocence. Kento's eyes narrowed. He looked into your eyes, looking past the cat to the you within.
"...you know exactly what you're doing, don't you, you absolute terror--"
"Meow," you replied, rolling onto your back to keyboard clatter, and showing him your belly.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"Meow--"
"--no, you listen to me-- you did that on purpose--"
"Mew--meow, mrrrrow--"
"--don't give me that, you always hated that tie-- awfully convenient--"
"Mew, mew, meow--"
The neighbour watched, slack-jawed and confused, as his neighbour argued with a cat over a brandished, shredded red tie.
What was stranger, was when the cat seemed to argue back. The neighbour's little pot plant overflowed, the watering can slack in his hand.
"--we shall have words when I'm home," Nanami clipped, handing the tie back to you with a glare. You took it in your teeth, imperious as you turned your furry little back to him.
And so began the rumour amongst the neighbours, that Nanami Kento had gone mad.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"Meow."
You bopped your head against Kento's shin. Gojo watched the vein throb in his temple.
"Meow."
You bopped your head onto Kento again, brushing up against his legs, and brushing, and brushing, and bopping your head. Kento ignored you, utterly steadfast. Gojo gulped.
"Ah, Nanami, I...I think she's hungry--"
"--she is not hungry, she's only just eaten breakfast--"
"Meow," you said. You dragged a plate to your usual spot at the dinner table with your teeth. You nosed a knife and fork into place next to it. You sat by it, staring at Kento. A few seconds passed. You pressed your paw to the middle of the plate, more insistent now, ticked off. "Meow."
Gojo felt a bead of sweat drop down his soul.
Kento spoke, uncharacteristically mild.
"You know, this is one part of her that's really not all that different to when she's human."
"Meow--"
"--yes, I'll get you a snack, give me a minute--"
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"Yo, Nanamin! A package arrived for you."
"Ahh, Yuuji. Good. Bring it to the staffroom, please."
A rip. A rustle. You, circling round Kento as he rummaged in a box. Your tail twitched, and flicked, excited, excited, excited--
Boff.
A big, glass fishbowl was placed onto the staffroom table. Thrilled, you sprung up, and promptly poured yourself into the bowl, your form melting to fill the space perfectly. Your head peeped out of the top of the bowl. You purred.
Kento looked delighted. Yuuji tried not to laugh.
"How, er...how much was that fishbowl, Nanamin?"
"It doesn't matter how much it cost. She likes it, don't you? Yes, you do. Yes you do."
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"Ex-excuse me, uhm...would you mind not hanging around outside the womens' bathrooms? We're starting to feel, uhm...uncomfortable."
Kento raised his eyebrows. He pushed his glasses up his nose. He bowed.
"I apologise. I assure you, I'm waiting for my wife--"
A toilet flushed behind closed doors. A scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch at the handle. The door edged open.
"Ah, there she is-- my apologies-- good afternoon--"
A cat ran out with toilet paper stuck to its back foot. Kento followed.
A small crowd of women turned to watch them leave, utterly perplexed.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
Kento arrived home with a sigh. The day had been long. His shoulders ached, heavy with the burden of work and worry, missing his wife, and he walked through the corridor, calling for you and--
"My lov-- Jesus Christ!"
You leapt out from the staircase, all four paws out in a clawed jazz-hands of death, and yowled at Kento, before skittering away.
Kento leant back against the wall, holding his chest, his glasses askew. He sounded so desperately weary, when he spoke.
"...please stop jumping out at me, you are ageing me--"
From somewhere deep inside the house, "Meow."
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
Kento couldn't remember the last time he ran around his garden like this. But he did, running, panting, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie abandoned in the flowerbeds and a quirked little half-smile on his face.
He hid behind a forget-me-not blue Hydrangea, trying to silence his breaths, listening, and listening, and--
"Meow!"
Kento laughed, deep and husky, as you shot through the bushes, finding him in seconds. He burst out, running across the garden, and feeling you catch up fast, and jump onto his back, and--
Kento grabbed you, his hands huge and warm and gentle. He fell onto his back on the grass, holding you aloft, where you gazed down at him with as much love as a cat could gaze at a human. Except you weren't a cat, were you?
The sun shone your fur into effervescence. Kento sighed, suspending you in one hand and stroking your cheeks and whiskers with the other.
"This is...nice," he whispered. "Fun. We should...we should do this again. When you're back."
You dropped down onto his chest. You nuzzled your nose against his, over, and over, and over, your two front paws clutching his cheeks with joy.
Kento accepted your feline kisses with a faint sting of tears in his nose.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"Perhaps there's something about her that always connected on a spiritual level with cats?"
Kento glared at Shoko. "Are you suggesting my wife is more feline than human?"
Shoko smirked. She looked over to you, curled up on the sofa, fast asleep, with Kento's tan suit jacket covering your body.
"She'll come back. Maybe she'll get her comeuppance one day, for all the trouble she caused you. But in the meantime...she's kind of cute."
Kento scoffed, stroking your hair behind your ear. He could have sworn he heard you purr.
"Nonsense. She was always cute."
514 notes · View notes
dailyrothko · 2 days ago
Photo
I won't rattle on about every new scan but this one is new and very interesting to me. I used to be unclear on this thinking it was one of the Black Form paintings of 1964. Same year, same format, fits in quite well. I'm still not entirely sure it was not mean to be (who knows really) but it is not numbered as the Tate has catalogued them so we will say it's a stand alone.
Our former scans of this were terrible, a mess of weird looking black and brown and sometimes cropped (it's really confusing when people do that) so now, our new scan here is pretty good and get's the color right, obviously a huge improvement to what I had previously.
This can be kind of typical for paintings in private collections. Museums have reasons to photograph their paintings but individuals don't let these very expensive paintings out much.
This painting appeared at the Paris LVF show and looked beautiful, the scan doesn't capture the gradation and seamlessness of the painting out in the wilds but it's new, good and a representation of how the painting looks now as this is a recent photo.
I'll take it and am glad to have it and I am hoping you guys like it too.
Tumblr seems to be the social media platform that appreciates the dark Rothkos as much as I do, as I have an affinity for his late work when a large number were painted.
The classic Rothko paintings of beautiful colors and great panache have a certain mastery by the mid 50's akin to a a great film director showing what they can do with a camera. I love these too but I feel that the simpler Rothko paintings are refined in a particular way that I find emotionally involving. They are stripped of the lushness he favored and brought to a more austere form. They can be more subtle and certainly they are hard to photograph, but I have a special tenderness for them.
Just a note that you are welcome to reblog this with the credits but without my commentary (Xkit should still do this). However, please don't steal my scans. It's taken me a decade to be in a position to acquire them and people end up stealing them and putting them up without credit and then it's a drag for the everyone involved, including all my followers as it becomes harder to get permission to use them. I do not mean reblogging, of course, that is great and that's what most of you do. Also i absolutely can tell where a scan came from at this point. Me having to track people down to get proper credits on pictures I was allowed to use, is a real drag This may all sound dramatic, but you must remember Rothko's work is still under copyright and must be handled differently than a picture of the Mona Lisa. Thank you
Tumblr media
Mark Rothko Untitled, (Plum and Brown) 1964 Oil on canvas 81 X 691/8 inches
Private Collection © 1998 Kate Rothko Prizel & Christopher Rothko / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.
donations
3K notes · View notes
totalswag · 12 hours ago
Note
Hi! I have a request if you are up for it!
Okay so how about reader and Drew are together and they have a fight before an interview with the obx cast. And reader is skipping her meals and didn’t sleep properly. During the interview she zoned out multiple times while fidgeting with her fingers. The others notice that she’s unusually quiet and are a little confused and concerned about what happened. Maddie pulls you aside when she notices that you’re hands are slightly shaking due to the lack of food and sleep and asks if everything is fine and maybe Drew hears it and is concerned. I just need some angst
fractured moments ⎯ DREW STARKEY
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
authors note super sorry this is so late! i’m catching up with my requests atm (bare with me lovies). please remember to take care of yourselves beautifuls. i hope you like this <3
taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.
masterlist
summary getting into a heated argument with your boyfriend, drew, before an interview with your co stars. you haven’t been taking care of yourself, you co stars notice and drew is concerned.
warning(s) angst, fighting, loss of sleep, not eating enough.
Tumblr media
Today was gonna be scattered with interviews back to back⎯a long ass day. Been up since four in the morning to get ready then drive to the studio where the rest of your co stars await.
Drew and you had a fight. The fight had left both of you hurt and frayed. Words you couldn't take back echoed in your head, leaving a terrible taste in your lips. You both shedded a few tears.
When you arrived at the studio for the Outer Banks cast interview, you put on a faint smile, hoping it would be enough. The rest of the cast was already present—Maddie, Clarcia, Chase, Madison, Rudy, and JD—chatting and laughing as usual. You attempted to join in, but the pain in your chest made it difficult to concentrate.
"Hey, is everything okay?" Maddie asked softly, putting her right arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close, before sitting in the chair next to you.
"I'm good," you lie but making your voice promising to her⎯so she won't be suspicious.
The interviewer takes a seat across from you, introducing herself to everyone and preparing to ask questions. 
You, on the other hand, remained quiet. Drew was all you could think about, along with the fight. Fiddling with your hands on your lap and looking around your co stars. 
"Y/N, Scarlett, what do you like about your character?" the interviewer inquired passionately moving in her chair. 
You slowly move your head to the side, smiling as best you can. "I would say her compassion for friends and standing up for herself, even in difficult situations," you explain cautiously. 
The cast nods in unison, smiling at your response. Drew placed his right knee over his left, arms crossed over his chest, and intently listened to your words.
As the interview went on, your friends began to notice your typical laughter and outgoing self wasn't in the room. Out of everyone in the cast, you have a bunch of energy, always putting a smile on everyone's faces⎯making jokes, etc.
At the end of the interview, everyone said thank you and goodbye. Maddie's hand touched your bicep as you were getting out of the chair and guiding you to the corner.
Taking both hands, I said, "Baby, there's something going on in your thoughts. Tell me what's bothering you. We're all concerned.
"It's just⎯I haven't been eating lately, Drew and I had this fight this morning, I've been going through so much lately," you say, pausing in the middle of your sentence as you feel tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.
Maddie quickly hugs you, holding you tightly, rubbing your back in gentle circles, allowing you let everything out. Madison and Carlacia come over, giving you a warm hug. They tell you they're here for you and encourage you take good care of yourself.
"We love you so much, Y/N, it breaks our hearts you're feeling this way," Madison responds, "have you spoken to Drew?" Carlacia questions. 
In response to Carlacia's question, you shake your head.
All a sudden, Drew's voice appears, your head quickly looking up. Your eyes soften seeing him in front of you.
"Hey, could I please speak with her?" His voice was unusually quiet as he asked. 
After a moment of hesitation, Maddie nodded and gave your arm a comforting squeeze before leaving with Madison and Carlacia.
Drew's blue eyes searched yours as he stared at you. Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?
You said, without raising your voice above a whisper, "I didn't want to make things worse."
His face twisted. "I really regretted everything. What I said was not intended. I hate seeing you in this state."
His touch was warm and comforting as he reached for your shaking hands, causing tears to prickle your eyes. You muttered, "I didn't mean what I said either."
With one hand gently caressing gentle circles on your back and the other behind your head, Drew draws you close to his warm body. He apologized in a whisper and said, "I don't want you to treat yourself that way."
"I love you so much, baby." "To me, you are everything."
Tumblr media
⎯⎯ my taglist!
✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account
@runningfrom2am @chenslucy @whorelaud @drewsephrry @diqldrunks @rosezza @rafeyslamb @mymultiveres @starkeyvhs @percysley @francislovergirl @kiiyomei @sukuna-wafiu @skyslowalking @kneelarmhstrung @inthelibrarybtw @liliumz @lovingsturniolo @xoxosblogsblog @yanna2coolz @stevesxwhore @minyoon23 @skywalker0809 @bxmaaa @anamiad00msday @ifwfratboychris @darkacademictrash @pwertiies @claudiamoscatoo @starkeysturniolo @ratgirlcunt @drewstxrky @eddxemxnson @raewontgoaway @disaster-rose @definitelynotdomanique @isabellaxlilah @inlovewrafe @kravitzwhore @6r4cie @drewizz @rafespreciosa
290 notes · View notes
astradyke · 2 days ago
Note
please never stop talking about loverboy phil
anon i do everything for you
thinking abt how phil was there when dan dropped out of law school. thinking abt how phil argued to bring dan on the jamaica trip that dan was not supposed to be on originally so phil could be with him. thinking about how dan comes to the lesters for the holidays, "tagged along to a lester thing", how dan came to phil's family home and how phil's family accepted dan with open arms. how hyper and annoying dan is in some of the younger era videos (like old cooking videos, the tree etc) and how it makes phil smile. how phil bought him a tonberry and bought him that fancy candle and won him a plush from a claw machine. how phil keeps bringing up dan's solo work not even just in the videos focused on them (think haircut vid, dan is leaving me, etc) but in all other videos-- like dan's book kept getting brought up by phil. an underrated moment in wdapteo 2 that i think about CONSTANTLY is the fact that at the end phil plugs some of dan's merch too and does his little smile as he does. "for treating us with your presence". how in the date night video when asked what animal dan would be phil immediately went with bear. wdapteo 3 where phil is wearing one of dan's viewers pick my outfit sweaters, and how we would see years later that phil took like 100 silly photos of dan in the minion fit from that video (which proves my belief that half of phil's camera roll is just dan). how dan walks faster and ahead of phil but phil takes photos while dan is walking like the one in türkiye. how phil made him spaghetti when he was ill. how constantly phil talks about dan needing to wear color. him hyping up gay but not proud (and also BEING in gay but not proud). him being in the audience of dan's one off comedy routine about being gay. him being in the we're all doomed audience. him probably being dan's first subscriber. love eyes lester which is SO LETHAL it's so lethal. how dan will ramble and get annoyed at phil and phil will just giggle and laugh. phil playing with dan's hair. "you > everyone in the universe." the recent press the button video where phil said (when given the option to live forever alongside all of his now immortal loved ones) that dan would be immortal. "i haven't seen you for 10 hours i wanted to tell you about my lexicon". texting dan nonsense in wdapteo 4 for 3 days straight and not receiving a reply and pouting about it. taking the photo outside his window when dan asked to see if he could see him. being endlessly the no.1 sister daniel fan, accepting dan's experimentation with sister daniel relentlessly. there's so many more. there's so many more.
i'm really normal about htis by the way.
279 notes · View notes
madamechrissy · 3 days ago
Note
Hear me out.
dom!Gojo X subfem!reader edging then overstimulation with Reader tied up, gagged and blindfolded. Make Gojo as ruthless as you want :D
Here's a little drabble! I didn't gag her bc I don't dig it much, but blinfolded/tied up and edged hehe <3 enjoy! (oh and he's yandere)
Tumblr media
Your wrists are bound with Satoru's silky tie, and you're wearing his blindfold, as his own bright blue eyes watch you, avidly, you're wriggling, helpless, sniffling and hiccuping while he curls his fingers in your slick cunt. "Aww, something wrong, baby?" He cooes, you can't speak or function, gasping now as he laps at your clit, tongue slipping in little circles.
"Please..." Is all you manage, after he keeps getting you just close enough, but then he pulls out right when he feels those walls tighten, when he can tell you're about to cum, you try to hide it, but he yanks them out again, laughing at you.
"Do you think you deserve to cum? After flirting with that guy today?"
"I d-didn't, Satoru..." You ache to see him, to look at his eyes, he leans over you, pressing a kiss to your lips, starting those torturous circles on your clit again, you try to close your legs, earning Satoru yanking them apart.
"Do I need to tie these too, huh? Why do you have to be so fucking pretty, everyone looks at what's mine, should keep you tied to this bed." His words along with his fingers send you to the brink, your clit is twitching, pussy lips puffy from all the torture, he laughs then, smacking your cunt.
"Ah... f-fuck...' He's scissoring his long fingers in your slick walls again, hitting your spot and making the pressure coil in your tummy again.
"You like that idea, so slutty f'me, aren't you? Just me?"
"J-just you, Toru... ngh!" He moans as he watches his name spill from your bitten, swollen lips, smacking your pussy again, before turning his attention to your pretty tits, sucking on your nipples, leaving smacks over and over on your overheated cunt. "Just you! Swear, Toru.... ah!"
Satoru bites your nipple then, teeth sinking in, hurting so bad you scream out in pain, his fingers back against your clit again. "You say that, but baby I think I really need you to stay home, you're too pretty for the world to see, yeah? You like that idea?"
You nod, helpless for him, thighs shaking as he kisses down your tummy again, nestling his broad shoulders between your thighs, lapping up all the sweet arousal that's drooling from your hole, you are a mess, tears soaking his black blindfold now. Satoru's strong hands press into the plush of your thigh as he laps up more with the flat of his tongue, pushing you back to the edge, your entire body is wriggling, hips arching for him.
"I'll destroy the whole fucking world for you, y'know that? I'll take out anyone who even thinks of touching you." Satoru could easily do it too, you feel so much of his power then, his grip bruising, while your numb hands ache to enwrap in his silky white locks.
"I'm yours, Toru." You assure him, he needs it, he always does, he loses his sanity when it comes to you. Satoru moans, shoving your legs up then, bending you in half, cock sliding in finally, you are sobbing it feels so good, finally being filled by him, his length shoving in so deep, tip kissing your cervix. "Ah! S'much... you're s-so big..."
"Look at you, such a pretty little mess." He yanks up his blindfold then, grinning as he sees your tear glistened eyes. "You gonna be a good girl f'me?"
You nod eagerly, sniffling, finally getting to see his perfect face, his blue eyes swirling, pupils shrunk to pin points, he cups your face as he sinks inside, pressing your thighs against your breasts and putting his weight to keep you folded. He pulls out almost to the tip, making you whimper. "P-please..."
"Hah, ya thought you could cum?" He smirks now, shoving his cock back in with a snap of his hips, moving just slow enough you can't cum, you're pinned under him, helpless, gasping for breaths. "Not yet, not even close to done with you.
Hope you enjoyed bb! <3
359 notes · View notes
misctf · 2 days ago
Text
For the Team: A Real Man
Tumblr media
“I’m not going to stand here and let you belittle the team.” Brett slammed his locker shut and turned to face his coach, “We’re trying out best.” The locker room fell silent. No one talked back to coach.
Coach Andrews glared at Brett, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in anger. “You think you know better than me, boy?” he growled, his deep voice echoing off the locker room walls. “I've been coaching football for decades, and you're just some punk kid who thinks he knows it all.”
“With all due respect, Coach, your behavior towards us is unacceptable.” he replies firmly, trying to keep his voice steady. “We're here to improve our skills, not be belittled and humiliated.”
The other players watched in silence, unsure how their coach would react to their star quarterback’s bold challenge. Coach Andrews' face turned an alarming shade of red, and he took a menacing step closer to Brett.
“You think you're so special, huh?” Coach Andrews sneered, his hot breath washing over Brett's face. “Brett, you don't understand a damn thing.” He chuckled, “Throwing a ball well doesn’t make you a leader.”
“I'm just telling it like it is.” Brett snapped back, “Why would we want to dedicate ourselves to this team if you’re treating us like shit during a regular practice?”
The other men remained quiet. No one knew what to say, but they watched closely. Brett was always their leader. Sticking up for them. And while they mostly agreed with him, they weren't about to face coach's wrath.
“You wouldn't know true leadership, dedication, or what it means to be a man if it bit you in the ass.” Coach Andrews replied, crossing his large, hairy arms, “Let me show you, boy. Let me show everyone here.” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. With a swift motion, he reached out and grasped Brett's chin, forcing the younger man to meet his gaze.
Brett tried to pull away, but the coach's grip was unyielding. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt the coarse hairs on Coach Andrews' palm brush against his smooth skin, “First and foremost, these arms. You think these toned, well-groomed arms make you a man?”
As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands began to glow with an eerie light. And he dug his hands into Brett's impressive arms. Brett gasped as he felt the coach's fingers making contact with his skin. Brett's eyes widened in shock as he felt the coach's glowing fingers sink into his muscles. A tingling sensation spread through his arms as they began to shift and contort. The definition in his biceps softened, the veins disappearing beneath a layer of new flesh. His forearms thickened, growing hairier as dark brown locks sprouted from his skin.
“Wha...what's happening?” Brett managed to choke out, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief. He tried to move his transforming arms, but they felt heavy, cumbersome. Bulking with both muscle and fat. The skin becoming tanned and weathered with age, “Coach, what the fuck are you doing to me?”
“Real men have substance, not just flash.” Brett gasped as coarse, dark hairs sprouted from his shoulders and traveled down his back.
As the coach's hands moved over Brett's chest, the young athlete felt his pecs begin to expand and contort. The lean, defined muscle mass that had once been there gave way to a softer, more rounded contour, reminiscent of Coach Andrews' own mature physique. Darker, coarser hair erupted across the changing skin, until Brett's chest was covered in a thick mat of brown fuzz, mirroring the coach's own hirsute appearance.
“What...” Brett whimpered, horror dawning in his eyes as his previously firm pecs sagged, “I...” He looked at his teammates- his friends. All just stared wide eyed, unsure what to do, “Please! Stop...”
“Keep quiet and take it like a man.” Coach Andrews commanded gruffly, squeezing Brett's newly enlarged, hairy pecs, “Maybe then you'll understand the importance of discipline and hard work, right boy?”
“I’m no boy! I’m a fuckin’ man!” Brett's eyes widened at his sudden outburst, while Coach Andrews just grinned, “No, why did I...?” Brett tried to understand where that outburst came from.
Coach Andrews leaned in close, his breath hot against Brett's ear as he whispered, “Because deep down, you crave the power and control that comes with being an alpha male. Your body is responding to its primal urges, even if your mind resists.”
As he spoke, Coach Andrews' hands continued their work, sliding down Brett's torso to grasp his hips. Brett felt a strange heat emanating from the coach's palms, seeping into his skin. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his abs started to shift.
Coach Andrews grinned, seeming to relish Brett's distress. “That's it, boy. Let it happen.” he purred, his hands sliding across Brett’s firm torso, “Feel the power surging through you. It's what separates the men from the boys.” Wiry hairs sprouted from Brett’s abdomen as coach’s hands made their way down. Each strand growing thicker and curlier.
“No...no, please!”
The young athlete tensed, expecting another painful alteration, but instead felt his stomach muscles relax and soften. The six-pack that had once been so prominent began to fade, replaced by a rounder, flabbier midsection. Still, Brett could appreciate the muscle behind the soft, hairy flesh. Brett's face contorted in anguish as he watched his own body take on a different form. 
“Don’t you want to be a real man?” Coach Andrews goaded, “Like me?” He emphasized.
Brett's gaze dropped to his reflection, his heart pounding in his ears as he took in the sight of himself. Gone were the chiseled features and athletic build he'd once possessed. In their place was a heavier, more imposing figure, with a rounded belly and broad, muscular shoulders. Thick, dark hair now covered every inch of exposed skin, from his chest to his arms to his back.
“I...I look like you.” Brett whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and awe. He couldn't deny the raw power radiating from his new form, the sense of strength and dominance that seemed to pulse through his very being.
Coach Andrews nodded approvingly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “See? This is what it means to be a real man. Not some hairless pretty boy. You’re learning what it means to be a real man. To be me.” Coach Andrews replied, admiring his work so far.
With a firm squeeze, Coach's fingers made contact with Brett's pert ass. The skin rippled and shifted, the muscle mass shifting as it grew and filled with fat. The lean, chiseled curves of his rear gave way to a broader, heavier set of cheeks, now covered in a thick, wiry mat of dark hair. The muscles softened, turning to pliant flesh that jiggled slightly with each movement. Brett winced as the process extended to his thighs, the lean, toned flesh giving way to a heavier, more bulked-out build, marred by jiggly fat.
“But I don’t want to be like you!” The transforming quarterback insisted, shifting uncomfortably as a forest of dense hairs sprouted from his new legs, “It's too much...I can't...” 
Yet, even as he spoke, he found himself admiring the new contours of his body in the mirror. The heavy, hair-covered muscles seemed to throb with power, drawing his gaze like a magnet. Coach Andrews noticed the change in Brett's demeanor and smirked knowingly. 
“You're starting to come around, aren't you boy? Admitting that maybe I know what I'm talking about after all?”
Brett swallowed hard, his mind reeling as he struggled to reconcile his conflicting desires. Part of him still longed for his old, lean physique, but another part - a darker, more primal part - reveled in the sheer masculinity of his new form. 
“N-no, I don't...I mean, yes, I guess.”
Coach Andrews simply smirked as he ran his hands through Brett’s hair, “That's it, boy. Embrace your new reality. You're no longer just a pretty face and a strong arm. You're a force to be reckoned with.”  
As the coach's glowing fingers massaged the quarterback’s scalp, his proud locks began to fall away. Brett could only watch as his styled hair fell in front of his face. Each lock making their way to the locker room floor. Finally, coach let go and Brett shivered at the cool sensation of the air on his bald head.
“N-no, I won't...” Brett protested weakly, but his voice lacked conviction, “This isn't me. I'm not...I can't be...”
But Coach Andrews shook his head and brushed his glowing hand against Brett's cheeks. Immediately, the youthful contours began to blur and shift. His angular jawline softened, rounding into a squarer, more weathered shape. All of which was quickly covered in a beautifully thick, manly beard. His high cheekbones receded slightly, and his nose lost its sharpness, taking on a more bulbous, fleshy appearance. Even his eyes seemed to alter, losing their bright, eager sparkle in favor of a duller, more world-weary gaze.
“All done.” Coach Andrews grinned, “You’re perfect. A true man.”
Brett stared at his reflection, his eyes turning to Coach Andrews. And in that moment, he realized- they were the same, down to the last strand of hair on their chest. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His own resistance was crumbling, swept away by an unfamiliar surge of masculine pride and dominance.
"Brett!" One of his teammates called out, "Don't...!"
"Shut it, Johnson!" Brett growled, his voice low and gravelly- the same as Coach Andrews'. His former friend took a step back, clearly intimidated by the transformation in their usually affable leader.
Inside, however, Brett was reeling. How could he have spoken to his friend like that? He'd always prided himself on his kind heart and good judgment. Now, well now...
Coach Andrews placed a meaty hand on Brett's shoulder, “Now you're learning, son. Don't let weakness cloud your judgement. A real man stands tall and asserts his authority without apology.”
Brett nodded slowly, his expression hardening into a mask of stoic determination. He could feel the change coursing through him, reshaping his very essence.  
“I needed a little help coaching you pathetic excuses.” Coach Andrews says turning to his team, “And who better to assist me than me? Right, Coach Andrews?” He says, looking over at Brett.
Brett stared blankly at his reflection, his mind struggling to comprehend the enormity of the transformation. The man staring back at him was no longer the person he once was - not even remotely. Every fiber of his being had been rewoven into the image of Coach Andrews, right down to his thoughts and desires.
“I am Coach Andrews.” he muttered, the words feeling foreign yet comforting, “My team needs discipline. I'll whip them into shape, no matter the cost.” He turned to face his stunned teammates, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down their spines, “Listen up, boys. From now on, I expect nothing less than perfection on the field. Any slacking off will be met with severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?”
Brett's teammates cowered under his intense glare, nodding quickly in fearful agreement, “Yes, Bre... er, Coach Andrews” one of them stuttered.
Brett/Coach Andrews sneered at their subservience, his chest puffing out with pride, “Good. Now get out of my sight and report to the practice field immediately. We have a lot of work to do to turn you into the champions I know you can be.”
Tumblr media
Both coaches watched as their team scrambled to obey the orders, a twisted sense of satisfaction filling them. Coach Andrews could only grin at the sight of the new coach- his twin- a specimen of true masculinity. And without another word, together, the two Coach Andrews stepped out onto the practice field, ready to unleash their unique brand of discipline upon their team.
304 notes · View notes
zepskies · 3 days ago
Text
Omg really? Wow, thank you so much. That's honestly amazing to me, considering this was one of the hardest for me to write in Smoke Eater. 💞
(But after reading your wonderful review, thank you for making me cry. 🥹💗💗)
First of all, please don't apologize for the heartfelt thoughts you want to share with me. No matter how long or short, I love hearing what you think about my writing, and this is genuinely one of the best reviews I've ever received, because I can tell it came from the heart.
What's crazy is my mom and I also used to watch Chicago Fire together when she was trying to recover from surgery (where she had terrible complications and wasn't well for a long time). It became her comfort show, and I was happy to introduce it to her/have that bonding time where it kept her from thinking about her pain. But I'm so glad you thought to come here to perk yourself up after a rewatch.
honestly I have so many thoughts for each wonderful chapter but I would feel super guilty for spamming :’) this chapter in particular though, hits me harder than anything i’ve ever read before — not in a bad way!🤍
lol girl that's the best kind of spamming. I'd never be upset with that! 😂 Oh good, I'm glad it doesn't hit in a bad way. I was concerned about that for readers when I was first posting this part of the story. 💙
my mom had epilepsy, and I was her caretaker pretty much my entire life. I connect so much with this story because it, feels like i’m reading a mirror, if that makes any sense at all. with all the doctors and the worrying, it’s written so authentically, which is understandable after reading your author’s note. i’m so sorry you’ve experienced such difficult hardships and losses yourself honey, I offer my sincere condolences. and i’m sending you the biggest hugs 🫂🤍🤍
I'm sending you the biggest hugs right back, friend. I'm so sorry about what your mom went through, and what you went through too. Being a caretaker is not easy. I've seen it enough in my family that that's what I drew from in order to write this, so I'm glad it felt authentic to your experience. 🫂💞
now these lines/parts specifically had me crying like a baby lol. december of 2021, my mom had to have surgery at the start of the month. her recovery was going a little slow, but well. however she passed away overnight, 2 days after christmas, completely unexpected. the day before she had been doing so well too— she had more energy and was more mobile without needing as much assistance. came to find out later that’s something nurses call a surge? :/ either way, those moments in particular really tugged at my heartstrings ❤️‍🩹
I'm so sorry for your loss, my friend. It is blind sighting when it comes so unexpected like that. I haven't shared this publicly, but something similar happened with my grandfather this past December. His health declined suddenly, to the point we had to take him to the hospital. After seeming to get better after a few days, he went downhill even harder, and he passed away in mid-December. It's not the same thing as your situation, but I understand the feeling of "why did this happen like this?" But now he's at peace with my grandma. And your mom is free from her pain and discomfort too. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹
this line too. I felt this way for so long after my mom died. I didn’t get the final cause for a while since she passed at home and not at a hospital, and to this day I wish I could go back. wish I could’ve done something different. but SUDEP (or, sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) is completely unpreventable so far. I just find it so cruel that this illness I spent my whole life helping her with, ended up taking her anyway and nothing I did mattered in the end. so reading that line, how she broke down, and everything she had been holding in, it really made my heart ache but I also felt less alone in a way.
And I'm sure you did everything you possibly could, just like the reader in this story. 💞 I didn't know about SUDEP, but I have a family member who takes medication for his epilepsy, so I'm going to be reading up on that. I'm so glad that this simple line made you feel less alone in any small way -- I also thought when I was writing that it not only fit what the character was going through, but that other people who've been caretakers for a family member like this would be able to identify with this feeling as well.
everything that followed, it’s like reading a reflection. I shutdown and just went through the motions afterwards too, but ohhh how nice it would’ve been to have a dean ❤️ his support, how he takes care of her, it’s so heartwarming. and it’s really comforting to read. <3
It's that awful "autopilot" thing that somehow allows us to get through the aftermath, in a way, right? If only we could all have a Dean to support us in those moments. Somehow, reading hurt/comfort fics help me feel better too though. 💓💓
a lot of my family distanced themselves afterwards which, it is what it is. that being said, the sentiment in this story of family isn’t always blood resonates with me a lot. my support system is really small, but they chose to be there for me unlike my blood relatives so, that theme in this story means so much — the way dean’s chosen family shows up for her as well, it’s so sweet. 💖
Ugh really? I'm sorry to hear that. 💙💙 But thank you for pointing that out -- that is the overarching theme of this story, a la SPN style. 🥹 Your chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more, than your blood family. And in this story, Dean's family is basically "adopting" the reader/you into it. 💕
I guess the gist of what i’m trying to say, is I wholeheartedly adore this series and it truly means so much to me 🤍 I appreciate your work so much, and I love the unique feeling each piece of your writing brings 💗💗 I know I may sound like a broken record but truly I don’t think I can ever put into words how much I love your blog. you are an absolute sweetheart, truly a light peeking out between cloudy skies 💞
Wow, I really did tear up of happiness. Thank you. 🥹🥹 I appreciate you right back for reading this story and connecting with it like you did. And I'm so glad that you enjoy my blog!! I've only been here on Tumblr for about 2 years actively, but connecting with people like you is what's keeping me here, and honestly gives me energy to write and express myself when I'm going through hard times.
This chapter specifically was very difficult for me to write for multiple reasons, as you saw in my AN, but again it makes me all the more grateful that this is the chapter you connect with the most. I'm very sorry for your loss though. I'm really touched that this story can give you some small comfort. 💞
(And no it's not too much. Thank YOU for taking the time to share this with me.)
Tumblr media
Smoke Eater - Part 11
Tumblr media
Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 
Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 
That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   
🔥 Series Masterlist
Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.
Tumblr media
Part 11: “Heart of the Home”
You sat very still.
Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.
You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.
But your life had never been quite that easy.
“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.
He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.
The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.
George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.
“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”
George thanked him.
And you sat very still. 
A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.
His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.
“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”
You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.
Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.
Your fault.
When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.
“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.
“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”
George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.
“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”
“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”
George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.
You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.
You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.
“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.
“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.
He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”
“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”
“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.
“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.
You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”
“Is there something going on?” he pressed.
You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.
“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.
You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.
“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.
“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.
Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”
You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.
You could no longer be still.
Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.
Tumblr media
Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.
He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.
“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.
“Normally?” you echoed.
“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”
“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.
George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”
“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”
At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.
Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”
“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.
Benton met the other man’s gaze.
“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”
Tumblr media
Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.
Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.
“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.” 
You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”
“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.
“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.
Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”
And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.
He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.
“Okay,” you breathed.
“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.
“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.
“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”
“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”
“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”
Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.
“That you do, Lieutenant.”
You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.
Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.
“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.
“Come ‘ere a sec.”
Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.
“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.
George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.
“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”
Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.
“How’s that?” he asked.
“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.
Dean’s lips quirked.
“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”
Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.
“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”
George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”
He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.
She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.
“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”
Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.
“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”
George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”
He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.
Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.
Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.
Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.
“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”
“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”
“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”
“Is she all right?”
“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”
“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”
“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”
Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”
“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”
Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.
“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”
“Will do.”
“Thanks, Cas.”
Tumblr media
Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.
Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.
So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.
Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.
However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.
While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.
“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.
“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.
“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.
It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.
On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast. 
“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.
However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.
“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”
She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.
“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”
You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.
“Nothing.”
Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”
“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.
“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.
Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.
“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.
“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”
Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.
“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”
“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”
By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”
“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”
You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.
Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.
Tumblr media
All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.
She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.
But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.
By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.
Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.
He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.
“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”
Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.
“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.
“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.
“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”
That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.
Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.
George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.
“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.
“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.
“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.
“Just some water,” the older man replied.
“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”
“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.
“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.
When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.
“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”
Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.
“Tell me,” he said.
“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”
Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.
That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.
But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…
He realized that he only had one answer.
“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.
George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”
And that night, an agreement was made. 
In the morning, your grandfather was gone.
Tumblr media
Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.
In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.
This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.
But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry. 
He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.
So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.
And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.
“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.
He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.
Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”
You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.
“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”
Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”
You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.
“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.
“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”
“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”
Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.
“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”
You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.
“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.
Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.
Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.
“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.
You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.
You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.
“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”
“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part. 
“I’m not leaving you with this.”
Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat. 
“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.
For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes. 
He’s not leaving you. 
Not like everyone else in your life.
You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.
When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.
It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.
“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”
Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.
“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”
“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart. 
“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”
You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.
Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.
Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.
He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.
Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.
But he couldn’t leave you. 
I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.
“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”
A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.
“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”
You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.
Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”
With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.
“That matters to me,” he told you.
You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”
Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.
“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”
You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.
“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand. 
“For what?” he asked.
“For staying.”
Tumblr media
AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.
But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.
Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙
Next Time:
The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...
You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.” 
Dean smiled.
“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”
You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.
Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.
“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.
Keep Reading: PART 12
Tumblr media
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Series Tag List (Part 1):
@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb
@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91
@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19
@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420
Tumblr media
562 notes · View notes
menagerofmischief · 1 day ago
Note
Hi, I absolutely love your piercer!Lando series! Could you maybe do a part where the reader gets to tattoo something on Lando, maybe like on a more intimate part of his body?
hi, tysm! let me tell you, this was delicious. icymi piercer!lando saga
"Let it be known, I still think this is absolutely crazy." You said, ghosting your fingers over the stencil on Lando's skin, right above his dick.
Lando sighed at the feeling, his eyes piercing into yours. "Why?" He asked, his voice teasing. "Afraid I'm gonna scream?"
"More like afraid I'm gonna mess you up!"
He laughed, his hand moving to squeeze your shoulder. "I'm sure you won't. Just trace the stencil, no harder than a coloring book."
"This is going to stay on your skin for the rest of your life," you argued, the rational part of your brain screaming at you not to give into his idea.
When Lando first suggested that you do a tattoo on him, it was safe to say you thought he was crazy. A part of you still did. And honestly, you don't even remember how he got you to accept, or rather, you do. With lots of sweet whispers and even sweeter orgasms.
"And I'll wear it proudly even if it looks ... funky."
You look at him for a long silent moment before you sink down onto your knees in front of him, finding the position to be the easiest way to get full access to him and have enough space to move around.
You can't help yourself, sneaking a glance at his already hard dick, sitting right there, just inches away from your face. Without much thinking, you lean forward, pressing a kiss against the leaky tip and Lando groans.
"You gonna reward me if I'm good, princess?" He asks, his voice slightly raspy when he speaks. He stretches his arm towards you, offering you the tattoo gun in his hand.
"Of course," you replied, flashing him a smile as you attempted to turn the machine on. "It's your turn to be a good girl, come to daddy."
The two of you looked at each other for a silent moment before you both burst into laughter, bodies shaking with giggles. "Just start the tattoo, you muppet!"
He hissed at the first contact of needle with skin, but afterwards remained completely still. You hadn't expected anything less from him, not with how much experience he has with this and the small collection of tattoos already decorating his body.
You did your best to concentrate, putting all willpower you had to steady your hands in order not to mess up the lines of the tattoo. It wasn't anything complicated, Lando had designed it himself and chosen the place, declaring he wanted it above his dick with a cheeky smile on his face.
"There!" You exclaimed, your tongue running over your lips to wet them. You looked up at him, your lips stretching into a smile as you turned the machine off and did everything he usually did when cleaning your tattoos up.
Lando looked down at you, mirroring your smile. He set the tattoo gun aside and then his hand was on the back of your head. "Have I been good?"
"Amazing," you replied, kissing his thigh. "Let me reward you."
You moved forward, wrapping your lips around his tip, red and leaking pre-cum. He groaned, his fingers tangling into your hair, not pushing but holding you, for now.
You worked your head down his length, taking more of him into your mouth and Lando moaned at the feeling of your warm mouth around his cock.
"Fuck princess, so good." He groaned, his hips thrusting upwards lightly, pushing himself deeper into your mouth and feeling your throat contract as you gagged around him.
His hand in your hair helped you guide your head as you tried to follow the rhythm he wanted, alternating between hollowing your cheeks and sucking him and bobbing your head to slide him trough your mouth.
You pulled off, using your hands to play with his balls as your tongue pressed against the metal balls of his piercing, the metal still warm from the heat of your mouth.
"Gonna cum, please!" He babbled, trying to push your head down and you let him, opening your mouth to take him deep into your throat, your tongue gliding along the underside of his throbbing cock.
It only took a little more work until he was moaning and spilling his release right down your throat. You pulled off his slowly softening cock and swallowed, the taste slightly bitter on your tongue.
Lando didn't waste time to pull you up and kiss you desperately, like he was trying to steal all the air from your lungs. Like there was much left to steal after focusing so hard on blowing him you almost forgot to inhale.
He pulled away, his face flushed and lips a bit swollen. Lando's eyes met yours and he smiled, "Come on, I wanna see my girl's artwork!"
want more piercer!lando? send your filthy thoughts and I'll answer them!
287 notes · View notes
bitchface24-7 · 19 hours ago
Text
COYOTE UGLY - VIKTOR X READER
Tumblr media Tumblr media
synopsis: When you’re not at the lab researching and developing Hextech, you’re in Zaun at the BDSM club Coyote Ugly as the bartender. Having this job ensures your team has enough money to continue working without any headaches. Well you’re in for a massive migraine since the man you’ve been in love with since you were kids is gonna find out about your dirty little secret.
warnings: secrets, bdsm etiquette, dom!viktor, love confessions, abelist comments (Viktor refers to himself in a negative light twice, referencing what others have called him) traffic light system, spanking, afab terms used for the smut section, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, squirting, I’m gonna write this as a 5 + 1 kinda deal. Ok? Ok. Grammarly is my beta
genre: m/f
p.s. This fic very obviously references Coyote Ugly (2000), and I know it is a bar in the movie but I didn't want to do a whole plotline on The Last Drop vs Coyote Ugly; and I didn't have the energy to write and characterize Silco LMAO. So I hope none of y'all are mad I tweaked it to be a BDSM club/bar instead. I've loved this movie ever since I was a kid. Now I'm tempted to do a Practical Magic (1998) fic too 😭😭
Tumblr media
The Five Times Viktor Gets a Clue About You, and the One Time His Suspicions are Confirmed
One.
Viktor’s known you for almost two decades by this point. You’re well into your twenties and can do whatever you please. But Viktor’s got suspicions regarding you. Your excuses, your secrets. He knows you better than he knows himself.
So when you walk into the lab one day with a stack of cash, both Jayce and Viktor can’t help but look at you as if you were a project they were working on. You’ve peaked their curiosity and suspicion.
“So,” Viktor starts as you give the money to Jayce, and walk back to your desk, “Where did that money come from?”
You lightly scoff, “Don’t worry about it, V.”
“Of course I’m going to worry about it! That’s a lot of money miláček! Please tell me you got it legally.”
You whip around with a snort, “Don’t worry Viktor, it’s all legal. I just got paid from my second job. I already took a cut for myself; the rest I’m donating to the lab for our research.”
Viktor’s lips thin at that. You already took a cut for yourself and still had that much money to just… give away?
“Whatever you say, miláček.”
You’re gonna regret that. You’ve just peaked Viktor’s curiosity; and what’s the saying?
Curiosity killed the cat… but satisfaction brought it back.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Two.
Viktor’s curiosity is peaked once more when he sees a glimmer of sparkle at your navel as your shirt rises, as you try to get something off the shelf for him.
Viktor hums as he puts his pen on the hem of your shirt to lift it a bit more. You gasp as a fresh breeze brushes against your abdomen.
“Whats this, hmm?”
You sputter a bit before dropping your arms and tugging your shirt down quickly, “Nothing.”
“Nothing? Your belly button is magical and shimmers on its own?”
You sarcastically hum, “How’d you know?” you add a dramatic gasp, just because you can. Viktor quirks an eyebrow at you, “You can just admit you got a piercing. Its quite common down in Zaun.”
“Whats the fun in that.” You pout, “I got it forever ago, a bit before we left for the Academy actually.”
“You got your navel pierced when you were seventeen, and I never found out about it until you were twenty-six and I was twenty-eight?”
You playfully shrug, “Guess you aren't as observant as you think you are.”
Viktor clenches his jaw, “Don’t tease me miláček. You won't like where you end up.”
“Try me.”
With that, you walk away with a sway to your hips as Viktor's grip on his pen tightens to the point he thinks it's going to snap in half.
You're going to regret that.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Three.
“What is that?!” Jayce exclaims as you lounge on the couch, taking a small nap. “What? What! What're you screeching about Jayce?”
“That!” he squeaks, “On your lower back! Is that a…”
Viktor finishes the thought, “A tattoo?”
You twist your torso and look down. There's the perpetrator, a small tramp stamp that kind of looks like the Hexcores magic, and in the centre is a heart.
“Yeah.” you casually state as you go back to nap.
“Why does it look like the Hexcore?”
You take a quick peek over to Viktor before muttering, “Why not? I care about you guys and decided to get a tattoo to commemorate it.”
Jayce awes a bit but Viktor just narrows his eyes at you. There's more to it than just that. Because if not, then why did you put it in such a… risque place? Unless you wear low-rise pants or extremely cropped shirts; no one would ever see it.
Unless you're completely naked.
Viktor rubs his nose as you reposition yourself, your hip jutting out as your top rises even farther.
Viktor casually stands up and walks over to where you're resting on the labs couch. Lightly touching your lower back, he feels you flinch as he presses his hand harder onto the fully healed tattoo, “You must be cold, here. Let me fix that.”
And with that, Viktor pulls up the fleece blanket to cover your torso.
You look to Viktor and your eyes have darkened, your lids slightly narrowed. Your lips are lightly pursed as you examine Viktor. Viktor just smirks at you.
The longer this goes on, the more clues Viktor gets.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Four.
Jayce keeps pacing in the lab. Back and forth, back and forth. Viktor is worried Jayce is going to wear the floor down to the baseboards.
“Are you okay?” Viktor quietly asks, looking at Jayce in concern. He's never seen him so… frazzled before.
“No. There's a small gathering happening later today with the council members and high-level individuals. There was supposed to be a bartender to make the meeting not as mind numbing but the one Mel booked previously is sick. Now we need to find a replacement for…”
Jayce looks at his watch and runs a hand through his hair, “Three hours from now.”
Before Viktor can put his two cents in, you pipe in, “I can do it.”
Jayce whips around to look at you, a manic gleam in his eyes, “You’re not joking, right? You can actually bartend.”
You nod once, “I can actually bartend.”
“Shes not lying Jayce. She was a part-time bartender at the Last Drop when… when Vander was the owner.
Both you and Viktor look down, Vander was a good man. He took care of everyone as if they were his own kids.
Jayce clears his throat, trying to dissipate the mournful aura in the lab, “Wow, you're like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Many hidden talents.”
You snort, “More like a coyote prowling in the forest. Challenge brings mastery, dear Jayce.”
Viktor quirks an eyebrow at you. That's an… odd choice of words. No one ever refers to themselves as a coyote unless they frequent…
Oh.
Oh.
Everything is slowly piecing together, he just needs one more piece of proof before he pounces. Viktor almost feels like he's insane; he's a frequent member of the well-established BDSM club down in Zaun; Coyote Ugly. He's sure he would’ve seen you before. But there's the off chance you work when he's not there. He only goes on Saturdays, on a bi-weekly schedule.
Maybe you knew that and planned your schedule around Viktor's desires.
For this last bit of proof, Viktor’s gonna bring his attitude from Coyote Ugly to the lab. Hopefully, he doesn't traumatize Jayce (or you if he's wrong.)
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Five.
Viktor is good at what he does. Many people look at him and assume he's a virgin due to his disabilities. They think he's submissive due to the fact he's more lean and lithe as a man.
He's not.
He can get anyone down to their knees. He can get anyone to listen to him. He doesn't typically use this power in his day-to-day life, but he's going to bring it to the lab today. Luckily for him, Jayce had a mandated meeting to go to and couldn't weasel his way out of it.
He sees his target in the corner of his eye.
You.
You're standing by the blackboard, wobbling in place. Viktor isn't sure how well you've slept, if you've eaten anything today, or if you've even taken a break.
Viktor gets up from his own spot, and makes his way to the small kitchenette in the lab and prepares a basic sandwich and sweet milk for you. He places the items onto your desk and you're none the wiser.
Its not until Viktor clears his throat do you look away from the blackboard.
“You can barely stand straight. Here, come take a small break. Eat something.”
You smile lightly at the care, “Oh Viktor, I’d love to but I can't. I'm on the verge of a breakthrough; I can feel it! If I stop now, I wont ever complete this runic sequence!”
“I insist.”
“No, I really can't—”
“Sit.”
With that, you sat down at your desk immediately. You've never heard Viktor's voice go like that. So dark, so commanding, so… sensual.
You feel almost ashamed. Here Viktor is, making you food, a drink, and worrying about your health. And you were too much of a brat to see it.
You take half the sandwich and bite into it as your stomach growls at you. Shit, he's right. You haven't eaten in several hours and now your body’s catching up to you.
Viktor tilts his head, observing you.
“You were right, thank you.”
Viktor puts his hand on the nape of your neck and squeezes. You shiver and lean into the touch.
“You’re welcome. Don't make me have to do that again.”
You look up at him, your eyes wide and glossy. Your lips pouted lightly. Viktor's grip tightens on your nape and you somewhat successfully suppress a whine.
That's the final puzzle piece.
“I wont.”
“Good girl.”
And with that, Viktor can see you blue screen.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Plus One.
Viktor's changing up his routine, visiting Coyote Ugly on a Friday rather than his usual Saturday. The trek down to Zaun wasn't too bad, but the difference is air quality was highly noticeable.
Slowly but surely, Viktor makes his way to the club. He's in his usual outfit for this scene, an all-black ensemble with the buttons of his shirt undone almost dangerously low. He can feel the looks of desire shot his way. He's always on the top of the submissive’s lists at Coyote Ugly. And every coyote he's taken has been incredibly satisfied.
But ever since this theory of his sprouted, he's been hyper-focusing on it. On you. So he hasn't been able to take any of the coyotes to bed. They're desperate.
But there's a certain coyote that's already caught his eye.
He sees you working the bar as if it were second nature. Mixing drinks, pouring shots, opening beers, and chatting up the patrons. You seem so at home here.
Viktor gets a lovely eyeful of your outfit when you hope up on the bar with a megaphone, “Same shit, new day! We follow the rules and—”
All the patrons echo your words back to you, “We don't touch your girls!”
You smirk, “And with that, let the party begin!” a bell is heard ringing in the background but all Viktor can do is appreciate your sexiness.
You're in an all-black outfit as well, but its all leather. Your top is closed by a single button, so Viktor damn near gets an eyeful of your breasts. He can see your abdomen down to the top of your navel, your belly button piercing glittering in the club's lights.
Your leather pants are skin tight and low enough that Viktor's worried you can't bend over in them without flashing someone. He sees you turn around to hop off the bar and there it is. Your hexcore inspired tattoo.
Viktor feels his pants tighten at that. Its almost like a branding in his mind. Look at that. She's mine.
A few girls get up onto the bar and dance to the songs playing on the jukebox. With a distraction in place, he makes his way to the bar to order a drink.
Your back is to the bar as you clean some glasses, “What can I getcha?”
Viktor ensures his voice is loud enough so that you can hear him, “A whiskey sour, miláček.”
The sounds of cups almost breaking puts a smile on Viktor’s face. He's got you just where he wants you. You whip around with a deer-in-the-headlights look, “Vi—Viktor! What're you doing here?! You usually come on—”
“Saturdays. Yes, I know. But I've heard wonderful things about a certain bartender and wanted to see her for myself. The only bartender I've ever met is Thomas.”
You inhale sharply, “What gave me away?”
“Little things. The money, your body modifications, referring to yourself as a coyote.”
You hit your forehead with the palm of your hand, “I'm an idiot.”
Viktor shakes his head, “No, you just got too comfortable. Besides how you reacted a few days ago when given an order sealed the deal.”
Your face feels hot, almost unbearably so. Goddamn it.
“Does this… ruin anything between us?”
Viktor scoffs, “Absolutely not! Do you know how long I've fantasized about a scenario like this happening?”
“I have an idea…” your tone is breathless as your eyes are as wide as saucers. No way is this happening. No way are your dreams coming true.
Before anything else can happen, you do a special knock on the bar. Thomas whips his head over to look at you and seems shocked.
“This is officially a Code V. I need you to man the bar tonight.”
Thomas just smiles and takes over no problem, you hop over the bar and stand next to Viktor, a beaming smile on your face.
“A Code V?”
“When I officially get the man of my dreams, I get to have a shift off. No ifs, ands, or buts!”
Viktor smiles sweetly at that.
“So…” you add before your confidence dissipates, “Wanna go upstairs?”
Viktor knows that private rooms are located upstairs if you want to… have some fun. He just nods, a sly smirk on his face, “Lead the way, miláček.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You and Viktor rush up as best you can to one of the private rooms. Before anything happens, Viktor enquires if you know about the stoplight system. You do. And with that, you two touch each other in a way you’ve been dreaming about since you both started puberty.
A bit of kissing here, a bit of groping there. Before you know it, Viktor’s fingering open your pussy as you whine and pant at the pleasure Viktor is presenting your body with.
It’s wet, slick, and so hot. Viktor’s hand is slapping against your clit, causing a loud schlick sound that makes your ears burn in embarrassment. Viktor just revels in the sounds and faces you make; he never thought you could get any prettier. Looks like he was wrong.
“Please… Please… Put it in.” You beg, your eyes watery at the constant assault Viktor is giving your g-spot. Viktor kisses his teeth, “Put what in?” He cockily asks.
“Y-your cock. I want your cock in me. I want to fuck you into the bed. Please Viktor, please? I want it so bad… I need it…” You beg, your voice wobbly in your desire. Viktor growls low in his chest as removes his fingers from your pussy. “You're such a good girl, begging for me. C'mon sweetheart, I'm all yours.” With that, you ensure Viktor is comfortable as he sits up against the headboard, you saddle him and slowly sink onto his wonderful cock.
You gasp out a long drown out moan at the feeling. Viktor’s pushed right up against your g-spot, he’s stretching you out. Your pussy is moulding itself to Viktors cock, nothing else in this world will satisfy you now. One hand holds your waist as the other rubs your back.
“C’mon.” In a low, throaty voice, you moan. As if you had to use additional effort to get the words past your parted lips. Your voice is whiney and breathy. As if putting Viktors cock in you knocked all the air out of your lungs. When you lower yourself more, Viktor, who is rubbing your back with his free hand, feels something deep inside his gut tighten up a little more as you persistently try to fit the final few inches of his cock inside. You feel dizzy at that, you're so stuffed… and there’s a few inches more.
Needy. You're so fucking needy; and Viktor loves it.
He squeezes, quickly prickling your flesh beneath his fingertips into a supple hue. Viktor wishes he could mark you like that for good, wishes that squeezing hard enough would leave bruises and indents to last a lifetime. Last several lifetimes. Even if you aren't aware of it, you still attract admiring looks from other people, which irritates Viktor. Ever since you two were teens, people would look lecherously at you. And you never noticed. But at the mere thought of everyone seeing you so marked up, something wild, primal, and almost startlingly possessive gets hold of him. Even though Viktor would know who did it, they wouldn't.
They would question who defiled you so throughly; and not once in their tiny minds would they think Viktor “The Cripple” “The Weirdo” fucked you so good you're bow-legged for days. With a trail of hickeys down your neck and chest, red marks on your wrists and a glazed look in your eyes. Viktor needs to calm down, he’s getting ahead of himself.
Before he can stop himself, Viktor tangles his fingers into your sweaty, untidy hair. You shiver at the feeling. His hands are so strong, so beautiful to look at.
“Viktor! Please! Please let me move! I need it…”You beg. You've needed this since you were fifteen and you noticed how handsome Viktor was becoming.
You lean closer to Viktor, your tits close enough to his face he can easily suck a nipple into mouth. This small shift caused his cock to press even harder into your g-spot; making a long whine and a few tears to slip out of you. Seeing that causes Viktor to freeze a bit before asking, “Colour?” At that you desperately cry out a pathetic, “Green! Please!”
If Viktor had shown even a tiny bit less restraint, the pitiful little "please" that slips from your mouth might have killed him right there.
You start to bounce, a nipple still firmly in Viktor's mouth. One hand stays on your hip as the other tweaks your other nipple. You use the headboard as support to ride Viktor to your heart's content. Fuck his cock is huge, you swear you feel it in your lungs. You could've been doing this for ages. You pitifully whine at that thought; so much time wasted.
“You look so pretty like this, you know,” Viktor mumbles appraisingly as he lets your nipple go, rocking back and forth at an almost painfully slow pace, trying to give you even more pleasure. Your thighs are trembling, splattered with lube, sweat, and an unprecedented amount of wetness from your arousal. You make a tiny, barely there noise in response, pushing weakly back against him. Viktor holds you still. “So fucked out, just for me. So cock-drunk aren’t you? My little fucktoy. My good girl. My prettiest girl” Viktor showers praise on you, who just groans at the sweet attack.
You pull up as far as you can against Viktor’s strength, the head of his cock catching on the entrance to your pussy, before dropping back down aggressively and picking up a steady rhythm. Viktor lets out an appreciative moan at that. Fuck you feel so good. He's gonna become obsessed with your pussy after this. Viktor's head tilts back to rest against the headboard as he moans, you pepper hickeys all across his pale neck. He's not the only one with possessive tendencies.
You go faster and faster, rougher and harder with each bounce, but you still take into account Viktors weaker leg. You're both moaning, yours goes up a pitch when Viktor starts to rub your clit.
Viktor whispers into your ear as he ravages your pussy, “You like that? You slut. Do you like having my big cock stretch you out? Do you like me abusing your g-spot, moulding your pussy into the shape of my dick? Nothing else will ever satisfy you again, will it Pretty Girl? No. It won’t. You’ll be desperate to have my dick rearranging your guts again.”
You just moan and starts to cry at the whispered words alongside the pounding your pussy is getting. The knot in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter, you instinctively know you can’t cum without permission. So you ask,
“Viktor… Can I cum? Please? Can I cum?
Viktor just snarls at that, nipping your ear and slapping your ass with a heavy groan, “Oh fuck… you’re such a good girl aren’t you? Asking for permission to cum without me even having to telling you. Cum. Cum right fucking now.”
And you do. With a gush of liquid, you cum hard. Your body jerking, eyes rolling into the back of your head, with your mouth ajar in a silent moan that trickles down to a pleased whine. Viktor starts to fuck into you, wanting to cum too. You start to overstimulate yourself, desperate to feel Viktor cum.
Little “Uhs.” are punched out of you at each thrust due to the painful pleasure. In no time, Viktor cums too. His hips pressed flush against yours; his sharp hipbones causing a nice bruise to form. You both simultaneously moan at the feeling of Viktor pumping you full of his cum. The two lose their strength and flop down onto the bed.
You're cuddled up, now efficiently cockwarming Viktor. You're both our of breath, and immensely pleased.
“We should clean up.” Viktor pants, you giggle breathlessly, “I don't think I can move.”
The silence is comfortable, enjoyable. You’ve almost fallen asleep when Viktor casually states, “I love you. I've loved you since I was sixteen.”
You look up at him and give him a sweet smile, before pressing your lips together in a loving, passionate kiss, “and I've loved you since I was thirteen. Looks like I've got you beat.”
Viktor just chuckles as he runs a hand through your hair, “I'm exhausted. We’ll get cleaned up when we wake up.”
“I couldn't agree more. But I want a round two before that.”
“Seriously?!”
You slap Viktor's chest playfully, “We could've been doing this for a little over a decade. I'm making up for lost time!”
Viktor kisses your forehead and contently sighs, “Can’t argue with that miláček. Can't argue with that.”
With how vigorously you two went, it’s no surprise you fell asleep in a few minutes. Wrapped up together, as content as can be.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
That's a wrap! Please be nice to me, I haven't written smut since like 2022-2023. Hope y'all liked it!
For the tattoo, search up “cybersigilism heart tramp stamp tattoo” on pinterest to see what kind of tramp stamp you got LMAO
230 notes · View notes
roastedoatmilk · 10 hours ago
Text
Pussy is God
Sevika x Fem!Reader
summary: you eat out sevika idk what else yall expect from me atp
tags: oral (sevika receiving), reader is a MUNCH, bottom sevika ??, slight sub!sevika as well
A/N this is the first thing i've written in a hot minute so please be kind
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
You loved seeing Sevika like this, completely and totally lost in her own pleasure.
You can feel her strong thighs clench around your head as your tongue flicks just right over her clit. “Fuck babygirl keep doing that I’m so close.” your wife growls and her flesh hand tangles into your hair pulling you exactly where she wants you.
You moan into her pussy at the stinging pain of your head, the pain quickly turning into pleasure. You pull back slightly, replacing your tongue on her clit with your finger, your eyes widen as you watch Sevika clench around nothing.
A smug grin takes over your face as you look up at your wife to see her absolutely wrecked, her stormy gray eyes rolled to the back of her skull. Her short hair clinging to her face, drenched in sweat. 
"Tell me what you need beautiful." you purr causing your wife to groan in annoyance
"You know what I need doll don't make me say it." Sevika grumbles obviously not in the mood for your teasing.
"Use your words baby c'mon now." you tease, enjoying how you can see your wife mentally debate with herself on whether she wants to play along or not.
She eventually decides to swallow her pride and very lowly say, "Need your fingers angel please."
Your grin widens into something more feral before you reply, "See that's a good girl." and sealing your mouth back around her swollen nub before she has a chance to reply
You tease her entrance with the tip of your finger, spreading her slick around before slipping it in.
"Oh, fuck thank you baby shit." Sevika groans as her back arches even further off of the bed.
You moan into her in response, coarse dark hair digging into your nose
Once she's used to your finger you insert another one causing her to whine at the stretch.
You can tell she's close by how tightly shes squeezing your fingers, you pick up the pace watching as her abs tighten and her thighs start to shake.
Sevika lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched moan as she cums. You eagerly lap up her essence not wanting to miss a single drop.
You only stop once Sevika's hips start to jerk away from your mouth, small whines escaping her mouth.
You pull your mouth away and look up at your wife and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. "Well, I'm stuffed thanks for the meal." you tell her with a shiteating grin on your face.
Sevika snorts at this before grumbling "Yeah yeah get up here you weirdo I want to hold you." you of course oblige and up to cuddle with your wife.
165 notes · View notes
hottiesforhockey · 1 day ago
Text
may the best brother win pt 4⎜hughes brothers
Tumblr media
pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader ⎜luke hughes x afab!reader ⎜ jack hughes x afab!reader ⎜ genre: romance ⎜bachelorette-esque situations ⎜angst? ⎜friends - to - lovers warnings: not much tbh ⎜very angsty ⎜happy ending ⎜ synopsis: you have been friends with the hughes brothers for years - but why does this summer feel so different? word count: 6k authors note: this is the final chapter of may the best brother win! I know a lot of you had thoughts on who she should end up with so I hope too many people don't hate me for my choices! I hope you all enjoyed reading (cause I know I enjoyed writing) and will continue to support me with my work going forwards! Feel free to check out my upcoming list to see what I'm working on next! pt 1 ⎜pt 2 ⎜ pt 3 ⎜
(unedited)
Tumblr media
It’s close to two in the morning when you finally slide out of Luke’s grip, replacing your body with a firm pillow which he snuggles straight into, a delighted smile on his face. Your frown deepens as you tiptoe around the room, placing as many of your belongings as you can manage into the suitcase - zipping it up as quietly as possible before pulling on Luke’s oversized hoodie and the pair of sweatpants you had left out, your phone dinging with the confirmation of your flight back home. 
You look over Luke still fast asleep in the bed one more time as you let out a long sigh, silently walking towards the bed leaning down to push his unruly curls away from his face. “Please don’t be mad.” You whisper into the quiet night, placing a soft kiss against his hairline before tugging the blankets further up his body and sneaking out of the room with your belongings in tow. 
You’re barely down the stairs when you notice the soft glow coming from the entry room - someone is awake and judging by the silence it has to be Quinn. You knew he had a tendency to stay up late at night, enjoying the quiet of the world before eventually tucking himself into bed - you just never thought tonight would be the night he stayed up later then usual. You let out another sigh as you continue your way down the stairs. 
“You’re leaving?” Quinns voice is quiet, a soft lamp besides him the only thing illuminating the room as you place your suitcase by the front door - glancing down at your phone as you track the uber. 
“I have to, Quinn.” The desperation in your tone flings Quinn from his seat in the armchair - his steps leading him towards you before he can even think about it. You take two steps back as he gets close enough to reach you - his own feet finally pausing as he takes you in. 
Wrapped up in sweatpants and Luke’s hoodie, you hair pulled back from your face and all your belongings sitting at your feet. 
“I’m coming with you.” Quinn says on a long sigh, his hands pushing his soft hair away from his forehead, his face starting to crumble slightly as he nods his head in determination. 
“No.” You whisper, your phone dinging with the notification that your uber was 2 minutes away. “I need you to stay - someone has to stop them from ripping each other apart, from ripping themselves apart.” You explain, letting out a shaky sigh as you take a few steps towards him, lifting yourself up to press a soft kiss against his cheek. 
“I’m sorry that I have to ask you to do this, Quinn.” You take one step back. “I’m sorry that you have to be the one to fix things, again.” You take another step back. “I’m sorry.” You whisper as you pick up your suitcase again, hearing Quinn let out a soft groan. 
“Just—” He starts, “Just tell me when you get home safe” He says, his teeth chewing on his bottom lip, “I just need to know that you’re okay.” 
“I will.” You agree, looking over the oldest Hughes brother one more time before sneaking out the front door, shutting it behind you with barely a sound as you slide into your uber, letting out a stifled sob as you hold your hand to your mouth, watching the house disappear in the review mirror, watching everything you’d even know be left behind. 
+
+
“Where is she?” Quinn groans as he pulls himself in a sitting position - he had waited for the rest of the night for your updates, perched in his favourite arm chair the glow of the lamp the only thing keeping him company as he waited for your message. 
number 1 fan 🪭: just arrived at the airport - probably won’t be home till lunchtime but I’ll keep you posted. 
number 1 fan 🪭: I’m sorry. 
celebrity crush ♥️: don’t be sorry, just be safe. 
Quinn had responded to your message without a second thought - he didn’t want apologies, he wanted you to come home even thought a part of him knew this was what you needed - the past week had turned into a shit fight so quickly, none of you really anticipating how a fun bet would turn into a broken household. 
“All of her stuff is gone?” Luke shouts again, Quinn can hear the banging of doors as Luke races around the house trying to find you, the desperation evident in the way he comes bolting down the stairs next, his eyes meeting Quinns. Quinn isn’t entirely sure what Luke sees in his expression but his younger brothers face drops, his mouth dropping into a frown as he stumbles on the words he’s trying to get out. 
“Quinn, where is she— tell me she didn’t leave.” Luke begs, his voice cracking on the last word.
Quinn sighs deeply, running his hand over his face before locking eyes with Luke. “She’s gone.”
“Why didn’t you stop her?” Luke’s tone is accusatory, frustration and fear lacing his words.
“She needed space, Luke. We all saw it. She couldn’t keep doing this… to herself, to us.” Quinn’s voice is calm but firm, his gaze unwavering. Luke shakes his head, pacing the room. 
“No, no. I can fix this. I have to fix this. I’ll call her—I told her I’d fix it.” Luke lets out a shaky breath, his fingers tangling in his hair, “She didn’t even give me a chance to fix it.” 
“Don’t.” Quinn steps in front of Luke, stopping him in his tracks. “Give her time. The last thing she needs is pressure from us right now.” Luke’s shoulders slump, defeat written all over him. 
“I didn’t want her to leave… She didn’t even say goodbye.”
“She was upset, Luke.” Quinn places a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “She did what was best for her and we have to be okay with that.” Luke nods slowly, his jaw clenched. 
“How are you so calm right now?” Luke says, his gaze shooting up the stairs as they both hear the sound of Jack’s door swinging open. 
“What the hell is all the commotion about?” Jack mumbles as he takes heavy steps down stairs. 
“I’m not calm, Luke — I’m freaking out but she’s an adult she knows how to take care of herself and we need to trust her.” Quinn tries to explain clearly, not used to the sight of his youngest brother being so genuinely furious. Luke was the loveable one, he was fun and energetic but the way he was glaring at Jack made the pit in Quinn’s stomach grow. 
“Luke, don—” 
“This is your fault.” Luke sneers as Jack comes into view, the middle brother confused by the sudden aggression. 
“What’s my fault?” Jack asks cautiously, his brows furrowed as he looks between his brothers.
“She’s gone because of you,” Luke accuses, stepping closer to Jack, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re the one who started all of this. The stupid bet, the arguments—everything. You pushed her away.” Jack’s expression shifts from confusion to guilt. He opens his mouth to defend himself but no words come out. Instead, he looks to Quinn for some sort of backup, but Quinn remains silent, his gaze heavy with disappointment.
“Luke, stop,” Quinn finally says, his voice firm but not harsh. “We’re all to blame. We let things get out of hand. Don’t put this all on Jack.”
“He’s the one who made her feel like she was doing something wrong!” Luke’s voice rises, cracking with emotion. “She was so worried about what he thought and about making him mad and all he did was make it worse.” 
Jack flinches at the words, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t mean to…” he mumbles, his voice barely audible.
“But you did, you called her a slut,” Luke snaps. “And now she’s gone.” The room falls into silence, the weight of Luke’s words hanging in the air. Jack drops onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. Quinn sighs, running a hand through his hair as he watches his brothers fall apart.
“We can fix this,” Quinn says softly, breaking the silence. “But we need to give her time. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”
Luke shakes his head, tears brimming in his eyes. “What if she doesn’t?”
“She will,” Quinn says with quiet certainty. “But we need to be better for her when she does. No more bets, no more fights.”
Jack lifts his head, his eyes red-rimmed. “Do you really think she’ll come back?”
Quinn nods. “I do. But it won’t be because we beg her to. It’ll be because she wants to. Because she feels safe here again.” The sound of Quinn’s phone buzzing breaks the tense silence. He quickly pulls it out of his pocket, his heart racing as he sees your name flash across the screen.
number 1 fan 🪭: just boarded my flight. i’ll text when i land.
Quinn exhales shakily, typing back a quick response.
celebrity crush ♥️: okay. Fly safe.
He stares at the screen for a moment, hoping for more, but no other messages come through. He pockets his phone and looks back at his brothers. “She’s okay, she just got on her flight.” Quinn updates the brothers, Luke letting out a breath of relief as he slumps against the couch, his glare focused on Jack as Quinn runs his fingers through his hair, for what seems to be the thousandth time that night.  Luke’s phone dings next, the youngest brother ripping it out of his pocket as he stares down at the message his frown unchanging but his posture relaxing a little.
bestie boo 👻 : Hey Luke, just thought I’d let you know that I’m okay - I’m sorry I up and left out of nowhere and I’m sorry I never said goodbye, but just know leaving you was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I know you’re worried but this isn’t goodbye forever I just need to clear my head a little, so don’t be too harsh on your brothers - I’ll message you later, promise. 
Lukey pookie 🐥 : Just don’t leave me for too long - I can come to you. 
Luke knows he’s coming off as desperate.
But he is desperate. 
Luke’s head perks up at the sound of Jack’s phone dinging, his brother hesitantly pulling it out of his pocket as he lets out a long sigh, a whimper sitting in the back of the throat as he drops it back in his lap. 
“Well what does it say?” Luke pries, his brother owes him this - owes them all this. 
“She said I forgive you, I hope you can forgive me.” Jack lets out a low growl of frustration as he pushes himself up from his seat. “I can’t let her leave it like this, I’m going after her.” He grumbles, stomping his way to the front door for his keys, his hands shaking as he tucked them into his pocket. 
“No, you’re not.” Quinn cuts in, standing in front of the front door as both brothers look at him like he’s got two heads, their mouths falling open as he crosses his arms over his chest. “She’s asking us for one thing and we are going to give it to her, whether you like it or not.” Quinn’s fingers reach for his hair again but he drops them, “Both of you go take a breather, she’ll let us know when she’s home and then we can go from there.” All the brothers nod, Luke being the first to leave, his long legs carrying him out of the house before anyone can second guess it - Jack leaves next dragging himself back up the stairs to his room, leaving Quinn back where he started the night in his arm chair with the lamp still glowing a soft yellow. 
His phone dings again in his hand. 
number 1 fan 🪭: I love you all, I hope you know that. 
It’s the first time in years Quinn has cried as hard as he does in that arm chair. 
+
+
“What do you mean you’re not going back to Michigan?” Your mums voice carries through your headphones as you roughly chop the vegetables in front of you. “What happened? I don’t understand why you left in the first place.” Your mother continues, not stopping as you place your knife back on the chopping board letting out a long sigh. 
“It’s complicated, but I feel like maybe have the summer apart will help mend things, give everyone some space to think.” You explain, rolling your eyes as your mum continues to try to convince you to start heading back to Michigan, claiming her mothers intuition is telling her it’s the right choice, her words only pausing at the ringing of your intercom. 
“Look, I’ve got to go but I’ll call you back later.” You say, quickly bidding your mum goodbye as you hang up the phone call, slipping your headphones around your neck before walking over to your front door, pressing the buzzer to let the delivery driver in. “Must be the amazon guy.” You shrug, waiting until your hear the loud knock at the door. 
Luke stands there, drenched from the rain, his hoodie clinging to him, water dripping from the ends of his curls. His eyes — tired, desperate, and stormy — lock onto yours, and for a long, breathless moment, neither of you speaks.
“You weren’t going to call.” His voice is low, rough around the edges. There’s no question in his tone — just a quiet statement of fact.
Your throat tightens. “I thought it’d be easier this way.”
“Easier for who?” His jaw clenches as he steps inside without waiting for an invitation, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The silence stretches thin, like a wire pulled taut, ready to snap. “Because it sure as hell hasn’t been easier for me.”
You swallow hard, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that might shield you from the intensity of his stare. “What do you want me to say, Luke?”
“I want you to tell me why you left,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “I want to know why you didn’t even give me a chance to fix things.”
Your chest tightens painfully. “I didn’t think there was anything left to fix.”
His eyes narrow, frustration flickering across his face. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Your resolve wavers under his gaze. You take a step back, needing distance, but he follows. There’s nowhere to run — no place to hide from the weight of his presence.
“Everything was falling apart,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “The fights, the tension… It felt like we were breaking, Luke. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay. I couldn’t pretend like it wasn’t my fault.” Luke lets out a low scoff at your words, his head shaking as he continues to step towards you. 
“You didn’t have to leave.” His voice softens, the anger bleeding out, replaced by something more vulnerable. 
Tears prick at your eyes, and you shake your head. “I was scared.”
“Of what?” he asks, stepping closer again, his tone more pleading than demanding now.
“Of losing you,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “Of losing what all of us had before the stupid bet, we were best friends, Luke and now Jack can’t even look at me.” Luke exhales shakily, running a hand through his wet hair.
“You could never lose me, and Jack—” He pauses, a grimace on his face, “Jack’s complicated.”
“So you all keep saying.” You sigh, moving the piece of hair that’s falls onto your face, you look away, your gaze falling to the floor. “You deserve better then me, you all do and maybe it’s best if we all just take a bre—.”
“Stop.” His voice is firm, pulling your attention back to him. His eyes are burning with emotion, and when he speaks again, his voice is raw. “Don’t tell me what I deserve. Don’t decide for me. I’m not some fragile thing you need to protect.”
Your hands tremble at your sides. “Luke—”
“No.” He takes another step forward, so close now you can feel the warmth radiating off him despite the cold rain soaking his clothes. “You don’t get to walk away and tell me it’s for my own good. You don’t get to leave without saying goodbye and pretend like it was some noble choice.” His words cut deep, hitting every raw nerve you’ve been trying to ignore. 
The tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, and your voice cracks as you say, “I didn’t know what else to do.” Any hint of Luke’s anger dissolves completely from his body as he steps towards you, wrapping his arms around you tightly, your sobs muffled in his chest. 
“Why didn’t you stay? We could’ve talked about this sooner instead of you just keeping yourself all cooped up in this stupid apartment.” Luke sighs, his chin perched on the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth letting you cry into the fabric of his hoodie. 
“I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me,” you whisper, your voice muffled against Luke’s chest. “After everything that happened, I thought it was easier if I just… disappeared for a while.” Luke pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your tears. His expression is soft, tender, but there’s a fire in his eyes that you can’t ignore.
“Do you really think so little of me?” he asks quietly. “Do you think I’d just let you walk away without a fight?” You shake your head, your hands gripping the front of his hoodie. 
“It wasn’t about you, Luke. It was about me. I couldn’t handle the guilt, the pressure—everything just felt so overwhelming.”
Luke takes a deep breath, his hands dropping to his sides. “I get that. I do. But you can’t make these kinds of decisions alone. We’re supposed to be a team.” The word “team” hits you harder than you expect, and for a moment, you’re both silent, the weight of everything unspoken hanging in the air. Luke steps back, running a hand through his wet curls, shaking his head.
“Jack’s a mess,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. “He’s been beating himself up since the second you left. He knows he messed up. Hell, we all did..” You sigh, rubbing your temples. “He doesn’t leave his room, Quinn puts food outside his door and it’s usually gone so at least we know he’s eating.” Luke lets out a bitter laugh,  his eyes locking with yours, “I’m not trying to guilt trip you or anything, I just—” He pauses, a frown growing as he thinks of what to say, “I just want you to know that he wants the chance to fix things.” 
“I don’t know how to fix things with Jack. He said some things… things that hurt more than I’d like to admit.”
Luke nods solemnly. “I know. And he’s probably not going to apologise the way you want him to. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He just… he needs time.”
“Time,” you echo, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “That’s all anyone ever says. Give it time. But what if time isn’t enough?”
“It will be.” Luke’s voice is steady, unwavering. “Because we’re not giving up on you. None of us are. You mean too much to us to let this be the end.” Your heart aches at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the walls you’ve built around yourself. You want to believe him. You want to believe that things can be fixed, that you can find your way back to the life you had before everything fell apart.
But the doubt still lingers.
“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I’m scared that things won’t ever be the same again. That I’ve ruined everything.” Luke steps closer again, taking your hands in his. 
“Nothing is ruined, I promise… just give me a chance to show you.” Luke’s brows furrow, his eyes pleading with you as his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. 
“Okay.” 
“Okay?” You nod in response, not missing the way Luke’s face lights up, his body almost vibrating with excitement as a smile grows on your own face. 
“Let’s go home.” Luke says, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering to life as you nod softly. 
+
+
Quinn shoots up from his seat by the table, his laptop lighting up the almost dark room as the front door opens. “Luke?” He calls out - slowly making his way out of the dining room. Luke had left two days ago not being able to bear being left alone in the house any longer - the youngest brother infatuation with you stemming deeper then anyone had realised. 
“Did you manage to talk to her? Is she okay?” Quinn calls out again, his frustration building as his younger brother ignores him. 
Maybe she didn’t let him in? 
Maybe he’s angry because she said she’s never coming back? 
Quinn’s mind is running a million miles an hour as he steps into the entry way, his whole body freezing as he takes in the smaller then his brother’s figure in the hall, the suitcase by your side, your hair pulled back from your face as you shoot him a shy smile. 
“Hi.” 
Quinn stares at you, frozen in place as if you might vanish if he blinks too hard. His lips part slightly, but no words come out. Instead, his eyes flicker to the suitcase by your side, then back to you. It’s the longest few seconds of your life, his silence weighing heavily in the air between you.
“Hi,” you repeat softly, your voice tentative, uncertain. The sound seems to jolt Quinn out of his stupor. He steps forward, his brows knitting together, but not in anger. His expression is more cautious, concerned.
“You’re here?” he finally manages, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving. His eyes scan your face as if trying to convince himself that you’re real.
You nod, biting your lip. “I wasn’t sure if I should come.”
Quinn shakes his head slowly, his gaze softening. “I’m glad you did.” His voice is gentle, without any trace of the bitterness you had feared. He steps closer, his hands in his pockets. “We’ve been worried about you. All of us.”
Tears prick at your eyes, and you look away. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I just… I needed space. Everything was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to fix it.”
Quinn nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. Sometimes things get too heavy, and you need to step back. I’m not saying it didn’t hurt—it did—but I understand why you felt you had to go.”
Your chest tightens with emotion. “Thank you for saying that.”
“Jack’s upstairs,” Quinn says, tilting his head toward the stairs. “He’s been… well, he hasn’t been handling things great. But he’s missed you. A lot.”
You nod, wiping a tear from your cheek. “I need to see him.”
Quinn offers a small, reassuring smile. “Go ahead. He needs this as much as you do.” Taking a deep breath, you pick up your suitcase and head toward the stairs. Each step feels heavier than the last, your heart pounding in your chest. Memories flood your mind—of laughter, of late-night conversations, of the bond you once shared with Jack. And of the way things shattered.
When you reach the top of the stairs, you pause outside Jack’s door. The familiar sight sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you. You lift your hand to knock, but hesitate, your fingers trembling.
What if he doesn’t want to see me?
What if he slams the door in my face?
Summoning every ounce of courage you have, you knock softly.
For a long, agonising moment, there’s no response. Just when you’re about to turn away, the door creaks open.
Jack stands there, his hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired, worn down, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.
“Hey,” you say softly, your voice trembling. Jack’s eyes meet yours, and you see the storm of emotions swirling within them—anger, hurt, longing. But instead of lashing out, his expression softens almost immediately.
“Hey,” he replies, his voice rough from disuse. He steps aside, opening the door wider. “Ummm, do you want to come in?.” You nod as you step inside, your heart in your throat. The room feels suffocatingly familiar, the memories hanging in the air like ghosts. Jack closes the door behind you, leaning against it, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I didn’t think you’d actually come back to be honest,” he says quietly.
“I wasn’t sure if I would,” you admit, your hands fidgeting nervously. “But Luke told me what been happening.” Jack lets out a long breath, his body rigid as the two of your stare at each other from across the room, his arms crossing over his chest as he nods slowly. 
“So you came because he told you to?” Jack assumes, his excitement dropping a little. 
“No, I came because I wanted to — because I care about you, Jack and neither of us deserves to hurt.” You explain, hesitating before continuing, “But the things you said, and the way you treated me, it wasn’t okay Jack and I need you to understand that if we are going to put this behind us.” 
Jack lets out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. “I know, and I’ve thought about it a lot and I know now that this things I said to you were because I was feeling a little rejected.” He says softly, letting out a small chuckle as he adds, “And we all know I don’t do well with rejection.” 
You blink, surprised by his words. “Jack…” He shakes his head. 
“No, let me say this. I messed up. I was angry, hurt, and I said things I shouldn’t have. I pushed you away when I should have been pulling you closer. I thought I was protecting myself, but all I did was hurt you. And my brothers…” He lets out a long breath, “I haven’t made things easy for them either and I’m sorry that I never took the time to explain everything before we got to this point.” He notes, his arms finally falling from in front of his chest, one hand raising to push his growing hair away from his face. 
Tears well up in your eyes again, and you take a shaky step closer. “I hurt you too. I didn’t mean to, but I did. And I’m so sorry for that.” Jack smiles but takes a step away from you, your hands retreating back to your chest as you look at him in surprise. 
“I’m sorry.” He whispers, “I can’t.” Your teeth catches your lip as you nod, Jack letting out a groan as he watches your chin tremble. 
“You and Luke are perfect for each other.” Jack says quickly, a sad smile on his face, “You know he got you a lego flower bouquet cause he knows you’d prefer that to real flowers, he’s also has that polaroid you two took on the boat in his wallet for like five years now.” Jack explains, rocking back and forth on his heels as he runs his fingers through his hair again. “It’s just killing me that, that couldn’t be us because it was never meant to be us.” 
Tears spill freely down your cheeks now, your heart twisting painfully at Jack's words. You open your mouth to say something—anything—but nothing comes out. The weight of his confession hangs between you both, raw and unfiltered.
Jack's gaze drops to the floor as he continues, his voice quieter now, laced with a bittersweet nostalgia. "I thought if I held on tight enough, maybe I could make it work. But it’s like holding sand, you know? The harder you grip, the faster it slips through your fingers."
You take a deep breath, wiping your cheeks with trembling hands. "Jack... I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted any of this to happen."
He looks up, his eyes glassy but steady. "I know you didn’t. And I’m not mad anymore. It took me a while to get here, but I understand now. You weren’t mine to keep. You never were." His words are a punch to the gut, but there's no malice in them—only acceptance and quiet resignation. You step forward again, closing the distance between you, and this time Jack doesn’t move away. 
You reach out tentatively, your fingers brushing his arm. "You’ll always be important to me, Jack."
He nods, his lips pressing into a tight line to keep his emotions in check. "And you’ll always be important to me. I don’t regret loving you. I just regret holding on too long when I should’ve let go." The silence stretches between you, but it feels different now—softer, less suffocating. Finally, Jack breaks it with a shaky laugh. 
"God, I sound like a bad country song, don’t I?"
A tearful chuckle escapes your lips, and you shake your head. "A little bit."
He grins, and for the first time, it feels real. "Maybe I should write one. Call it 'Wrong Time, Right Feelings' or something equally tragic." You laugh again, this time without tears, and Jack’s shoulders visibly relax. The tension in the room lifts ever so slightly, replaced by a shared understanding of what you both lost—and what you both still have.
Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair once more. "Luke’s downstairs, huh?"
“Probably,” you whisper. "He wanted to give us time to sort things out.”
Jack nods, his expression bittersweet. "Good. He deserves this. You both do." There’s a pause, and then Jack reaches out, pulling you into a hug. His arms wrap around you tightly, holding on just long enough to say goodbye without words. When he pulls back, there’s a glimmer of peace in his eyes.
"Take care of him," Jack says softly. "He never puts himself first, so I’m glad that he has someone who will.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding. "I will."
Jack steps back, hands on his hips as he offers you one last smile—sad, but genuine. "Go on, then. Don’t keep him waiting."
You turn to leave, your hand lingering on the doorknob for a moment. Before you open it, you glance back at Jack. "You’ll be okay, right?"
He tilts his head, a ghost of his playful smirk returning. "I’m a Hughes. We’re made of tough stuff." As you step out of the room and close the door behind you, you hear the soft click of the lock. Jack’s way of closing the chapter.
You make your way down the stairs, each step lighter than the last. The weight that had been pressing on your chest for so long feels like it’s finally lifting. When you reach the bottom, you see Quinn leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a cautious but hopeful expression.
Luke’s eyes flick between you and Quinn as you descend the stairs, your footsteps soft but purposeful. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders tense with nervous energy. You can see it in the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other—he’s bracing himself for something, though you’re not quite sure what.
Quinn leans casually against the wall, arms crossed, his expression carefully neutral. But there’s a knowing look in his eyes, like he’s already accepted whatever is about to happen. As you reach the bottom step, your gaze locks with Luke’s, and for a moment, the rest of the room fades away. It’s just the two of you—it always has been.
“How’d it go?” Quinn’s voice breaks the silence, his tone gentle, understanding. He’s giving you an out, a chance to speak first, but you don’t miss the way Luke stiffens at the sound of his brother’s voice.
“We’re okay,” you say softly, your words directed at Quinn, though your eyes never leave Luke. “Jack and I… we said what needed to be said.”
Quinn nods, offering a small, encouraging smile before stepping away from the wall. “Good. That’s good.” He glances at Luke, then back at you, his smile turning a little wry. “I’ll give you two some space.”
As Quinn walks away, heading toward the kitchen, Luke finally moves. He takes a hesitant step forward, his hands still buried in his pockets, his gaze flickering between the empty hallway where Quinn disappeared and your face.
“You don’t have to stay,” he blurts out suddenly, his voice tight with emotion. “If you… if you want to go after him, I get it.”
You blink, caught off guard. “What?”
Luke swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he looks down at the floor. “Quinn,” he says quietly. “I saw the way he looked at you when you came down. I… I know he’s always been there for you. He’s steady, reliable. He’s Quinn.”
A pang of sadness twists in your chest as you watch him, this boy who’s always been so sure of himself suddenly unsure and vulnerable. You step closer, but he doesn’t look up.
“Luke…”
“It’s okay,” he says quickly, cutting you off. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie and say it wouldn’t hurt, but… I’d get it. He’s… he’s Quinn. And me?” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I’m the guy who’s always a little too much. Too loud, too impulsive, too everything.”
Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice. “Luke, stop.”
He finally looks up, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t know how to be enough for you,” he whispers. “I’ve been trying for so long, but I keep thinking I’m just… not him. Not the guy you’d pick in the end.”
You step closer, your hands trembling slightly as you reach for his. He hesitates for a moment before letting you take them, his fingers curling around yours almost instinctively.
“You’ve always been enough,” you say softly, your voice steady despite the emotion bubbling beneath the surface. “It’s not about Quinn, or Jack, or anyone else. It’s about you. It’s always been about you.”
His grip tightens, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “But what if I mess it up? What if I’m not what you need?”
“You don’t have to be perfect, Luke. I don’t want perfect. I want you.”
He stares at you, searching your face for any sign of doubt. When he finds none, a shaky breath escapes him, his shoulders sagging with relief. “I was so sure you’d pick him,” he murmurs. “I thought I was about to lose you.”
“You’re not losing me,” you whisper, squeezing his hands. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Luke lets out a quiet, broken laugh, the sound filled with equal parts disbelief and joy. “I’ve been such an idiot.”
“No,” you say gently, reaching up to brush a tear from his cheek. “You’ve been scared. So have I. But we’re here now, and that’s what matters.”
He leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if grounding himself in the feel of your hand against his skin. When he opens them again, there’s a flicker of hope there, tentative but real.
“You mean it?” he asks quietly. “You’re staying?”
“I’m staying,” you confirm. “And we’ll figure it out together. No more second-guessing, no more running.”
Luke exhales a long breath, his lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “Okay. Together.”
“Together,” you repeat, your voice firm.
Quinn’s voice drifts from the kitchen. “Are you two done being gross, or should I stay in here forever?”
You both laugh, the sound light and carefree. Luke wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you turn toward the kitchen.
“Also I heard something about a lego set.” You murmur, Luke letting out a bark of laughter as he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. 
“You can have any lego sets that you want.” 
As you walk together toward the future—hand in hand, hearts finally in sync—you know that this is where you’re meant to be. 
With Luke. 
Always with Luke.
Tumblr media
203 notes · View notes
katerinaaqu · 15 hours ago
Note
Tumblr media
i'm in despair (this is about antinous)
WHAT?! Okay seriously I have had enough at this point with this bullshit and the misinformation out there just because some people twist away the Odyssey and become famous to the point of people not being able to tell reality from fanfiction and of people who just won't do research or read the most crappy "translations" in the world! So because I have had enough here's ALL the lines Antinous speaks in the Odyssey to clear this up once and for all!
(Be warned this will be long but please share this as much as you can guys! Forgive me in advance if some of my translations are a bit sloppy or not as accurate I am willing to redo some passages if you guys want in comments or reblogs in the future.)
Please spread this because honestly I have had enough and this EXACTLY why I cannot take anymore of these "retellings" and whatever the hell the names are and the changes they make for no reason to characters for "creative liberties" because honestly people cannot even read the sources properly and they just make claims taking advantage of popularity of media!
ANTINOUS'S LINES IN THE ODYSSEY:
Tumblr media
And then Antinous the son of Eupeithes answered him:
"Telemachus, no doubt the gods themselves are teaching you well since you became such a boaster and speak with so much insolence! May Cronus make sure that you shall never reign Ithaca of the two seas, which is your ancestral right!"
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 1 (383-387): Antinous to Telemachus in irony when Telemachus has seen Athena in disguise off.
~
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Telemachus, you high-and-mighty, uncontrollable in your insolence, what kind have you said is my shame: you wish to shift the blame! But I tell ya it is not the fault of the Achaean suitors but of your beloved mother's, who knows very well how to gain from others. For this is the third year, nearly entering the fourth, that she plays with the feelings within the chests of the Achaeans. For she has given promises to each and every one of us all and sends us messages but in her head and she has made a big ploy; and after she set a large loom in the palace and began to weave in a thin and complicated way and then she said to us:
"Young men, my suitors, since divine Odysseus is dead, please be patient since you are in a hurry for my marriage, but allow me fulfill this one pledge, for I do not want this weaving of mine be for nothing, let me make a shroud for the heroic Laertes for when his fate strikes and is taken by the death who brings so many woes, so that I will not gain resent from the Achaean women, oh, if the man who gained so much were to lie without a shroud"
So she spoke to us and our heroic hearts were persuaded and so in there by day she was looming at her great web and by night she was destroying it under the light of the torches she had beside her. And so she gained herself 3 years with her deceit that persuaded the Achaeans, now entering the forth and time has passed and we were informed on this by one of the women who clearly saw what had happened and so we caught her red-handed unraveling the great web. And so she was forced out of necessity to finish it. And so to you the suitors are replying to you so you shall know it deep in your heart and for all the other Achaeans to know; send back your mother to her father and command her to choose which one of us she pleases to marry. For, truly, Athena has blessed her with knowledge and craftsmanship and understanding heart; such wiles Penelope knows above other beautifully-haired Achaean women, even than the ones known by the old ones; and Tyro and Alcmene and beautifully-wreathed Mycene but her last wile was not right and so we shall continue to eat here from your inheritance, for despite the fact that the gods placed such mind more than many inside her and she brings great name upon herself, but you shall regret your insolence. We shall not move back to our homes or to any other place until she marries which of us Achaeans she desires!
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 2 (86-128): Antinous to Telemachus about Penelope's scheme when Telemachus accused the suitors for their staying at his palace. Penelope is being accused for her game upon them and simoultaneously praised for her mind and craftsmanship but also Telemachus being pressured to send her back to her father to start preparing for her upcoming marriage.
~
Tumblr media
And Antinous immediately laughed and rushed to Telemachus and grabbing one of his arms he mocked him:
"Telemachus, you high-and-mighty, uncontrollable in your insolence do not have other evil word or action you in your mind for us, but I say come and eat and drink with me like before, I am sure all these you want the Achaeans shall provide and ships and outstanding oarsmen so that quickly you shall reach holy Pylos and hear news of your noble father!"
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 2 (301-308): Antinous to Telemachus mockingly after the end of the gathering. Basically Antinous mocks Telemachus and tells him to forget the meeting ever happened and then mocks him with the notion he had to reach Pylos for news of his father.
~
Tumblr media
And then Antinous, the son of Eupeithes replied:
"Tell me the truth! Where did he go and who were the men that followed him? Were they chosen Ithacan youth or heirlooms and slaves that belonged to him? Definitely I think he is capable even for that! And tell me this as well and answer truthfully for I shall know, whether by force and without your will he acquired the black ship or whether you gave it to him willingly, agreeing with his words!"
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 4 (641-647): Antinous to Noemon son of Phronius. The man possessed the ship which Telemachus got and now Antinous is interrogating the man on whether he did so with his free will or by force. The man of course replies that he had no reason to refuse Telemachus thus gaining the reaction by Antinous:
Tumblr media
Furiously, then replied to him Antinous the son of Eupeithes; with great anger filling his black heart, both his eyes shining like fires:
"Damn! What a bold insolence Telemachus has put in action, this journey, even if we were saying he would never see it through! The way he has managed to launch a ship and even pick the best youth of the people and take them with him! He shall be our doom soon the way it goes! But hopefully Zeus's strength shall destroy him before he reaches the maturity of youth but go on now and give me a fast ship and twenty men so I shall wait for him and set an ambush to the narrow path between Ithaca and rugged Same and so his voyage to find his father shall have a sad end!"
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 4 (660-672): Antinous to himself and the other suitors. Basically here he speaks on the ambush he wants to set on Telemachus in his anger that Telemachus left for the trip after all plus how he fears that Telemachus will be their doom somehow.
~
Tumblr media
Gentlemen, all of us, let us stop spewing arrogant words for someone might as well report your words in this house. But let us speak in low voice and make our words action, for this has pleased all our hearts.
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 4 (774-777): Antinous to the other suitors. In plotting in silence how they would proceed with the murder of Telemachus while Penelope is up in her rooms praying to Athena for the saving of her son.
~
Tumblr media
Damn! Look how the gods have saved this man from misfortune! Even if we had guards waiting at the windy tops day after day, one after the other. And when the sun fell down we didn't stay on shore but we sailed on the fast ships in the sea till the divine Eos (Dawn) waiting and lurking for Telemachus to take hold of him and destroy him: some god undoubtedly has brought him home! But let us here plan the sorrowful doom of Telemachus so that he won't escape us; for I know that as long as he lives our plans will not be fulfilled. He has persuaded the council and the people do not agree with us anymore. But let's go before he gathers the assembly of the Achaeans because I think he won't be wise to act slow but he would rush in full wrath and he would choose to rise everyone up by saying that we contrived against him murder but didn't catch him and they will not like it when they hear our evil deeds. Mark my words, he will drive us all out of our lands and we shall move to stranger lands! Come on! Let us seize him at the countryside, outside of the city or on the way and let us seize all his possessions and lands and divide them among ourselves equally but the house we shall give to his mother and to whomever marries her. But if you are displeased by these words and you believe he should live and keep his inheritance then let us stop devouring his goods and leave the house and each one of us from his own palace shall continue showering her with gifts till she will have as husband the one who offers the most.
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 16 (364-392): Antinous to himself and the other suitors. His fury that Telemachus escaped their ambush and he repeats the plan on killing him or establishes even more options for the suitors. In here he also suggests to keep pressuring Penelope to marry.
~
Tumblr media
And so spoke Antinous scolding the swineherd
"Notorious swineherd what did you bring him to the city for? Don't we have enough vagabonds and other annoying beggars to ruin our dinner? Aren't they enough people to eat the king's wealth here that you invited this one too?"
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 17 (374-379): Antinous to Eumeus on Odysseus. Eumeus had brought Odysseus-Beggar to the palace and Melanthius, the goat-herder had pointed out that he saw Eumeus leading him there so Antinous once more barges in and complaints (that is the first time Antinous speaks in the presence of Odysseus)
~
Tumblr media
Telemachus you high-and-mighty and uncontrollable in your insolence what did you say! If all the other suitors were to give him as much then he wouldn't need to come back for the next three months!
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 17 (406-408): Antinous to Telemachus. Telemachus mocks Antinous on his mocking on Odysseus/Beggar and so had Eumeus before him so now Antinous just mocks them back
~
Tumblr media
Which god has brought this creature to destroy our feast? He stood there in apart from our tables and claims he comes from bitter Egypt or Cyprus: He insolently and so rudely asks for food from all who are here: and they give it so recklessly for no one is more generous in giving than the one who gives something that belongs to someone else for they have much each!
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 17 (446-452): Antinous to himself and Odysseus. Odysseus goes to Antinous in particular to beg for food and tells him once more his "sad story" on how he fell from grace. Antinous does not like the whining and he retaliates. Ironically he also says something correct here; that they are all generous to the food they give to Odysseus because that food is not theirs in the first place.
~
Tumblr media
So he spoke and Antinous got even more furious and looking down upon him he replied with winged words:
"Now you shall no longer stay in this palace, back off since you speak words of accusation!"
(Tranlation by me)
Rhapsody 17 (458-461): Antinous to Odysseus. Odysseus insists upon Antinous give him some food and Antinous retaliates sending him away and in the next scene he throws the stool at him
~
Tumblr media
And to him replied Antinous the son of Eupithes:
"Sit there and eat, stranger or go elsewhere or else you shall be thrown out being carried away by your arms and legs and be skinned whole!"
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 17 (477-480): Antinous to Odysseus. Basically Odysseus complained to the entire assembly that Antinous has just striken him because he is hungry. Antinous doesn't like it and threatens that Odysseus will be carried out by force and be skinned alive if he goes on. He is heard by Penelope upstairs and she is filled in the details by Euryclaea.
~
Tumblr media
"Friends how fortunate that such a thing happened, that the gods brought such entertainment to our doors! Irus and the stranger fighting and wishing to hit each other! Quickly! Let's set them up!"
Mighty Antinous heard them two talking and breaking in merry laughter he addressed the suitors:
So he spoke and everyone broke down laughing and gathered together the two beggars and again Antinous son of Eupithes addressed them:
"Listen, heroic suitors, what I am about to say. These goat stomachs here that is roasting on the fire and we had set them here to make dinner after we have filled them with fat and blood but now I say the one who wins and comes out on top let him choose which one he wants to have for himself and what's more he shall dine with us and we shall suffer no more a beggar begging among us!"
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 18 (34-49): Antinous to the rest of the suitors. Irus has arrived to the palace and he picks up a fight with Odysseus/Beggar and Antinous loving the idea of watching them two fight and suggests the contest.
~
Tumblr media
Now, don't whine, you bully and it might have been better if you never born if you are to be afraid and trembling of this fellow, a man old and beaten down by misery. I tell ya and it's done: he has won against you and is stronger, I shall throw you in a black ship and exile you to the mainland to the king Echetus, the baneful of men, and he shall have your nose and ears cut off with ruthless bronze and shall throw your privates to the dogs to devour!
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 18 (79-87): Antinous to Irus. Basically he threatens and mocks Irus for being afraid of losing to "an old man". Irus was taken over by fear when Odysseus revealed his shoulders and legs realizing that he is not just a common old man. Antinous is "guilt tripping" and threatening Irus so that the two of them would fight.
~
Tumblr media
And Antinous son of Eupeithes replied to her:
"Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, the gifts you want the Achaeans shall bring you here, for you to accept them, for it is no good not to accept them, but we shall not leave this place and go elsewhere till you choose to marry the best of us Achaeans!"
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 18 (284-289): Antinous to Penelope. Penelope demands wedding gifts (as a manipulation for the suitors to bring items to pay back what they have eaten and possibly more than that). She probably hoped to manipulate the suitors out of her house. Antinous responds to her by accepting her request but also expresses the decision all the suitors made, not to leave the house till she has chosen a husband (in the next lyrics it is revealed that Antinous's gift was a beautiful embroidered robe with 12 golden brooches)
~
Tumblr media
I verily think is hard, Achaeans, to accept the word of Telemachus who has so much spoken threateningly against us. Truly the son of Cronus Zeus wouldn't have tolerated this but he would already have silenced him in this palace, the way he clearly speaks!
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 20 (271-274): Antinous to the rest of the suitors. Telemachus placed his father (dressed as beggar) sit among the suitors and has showingly given him good portion of food and golden cup and he told him boldly to sit and eat and drink with the rest of the people for it is not a public house here but the house of Odysseus that treats his guests! (I also find it a nice cheeky move by Telemachus here!) Antinous didn't like it and he speaks up
~
Tumblr media
You foolish boors who only care for today! Cowards why are you crying now and you are troubling the heart of this woman? Now that she has learnt she has lost her dear husband! Be silent and sit down or if you have to weep go elsewhere and leave this bow behind so it will be a the contest of decision for the suitors. For I believe it will be no easy task to chord this bow. For there is no such a man among us like the one Odysseus was! And I myself have seen him and I remember him even if I was but an infant child then!
Rhapsody 21 (86-96): Antinous to Eumeus. Eumeus was ordered to bring up the bow from the armory. Eumeus held the bow in his hands and he actually cried in emotion as he held his master's favorite bow. Antinous retaliates and calls him names because as he says "he is troubling Penelope" with his cries and he speaks on how he remembers Odysseus when he was a child. And ironically or not so much he speaks very positively on Odysseus and the kind of man he remembers him to be, maybe because he thinks he is safe now and believes Odysseus to be dead.
~
Tumblr media
And Antinous, the son of Eupeithes, said to them:
"Rise in your turn from the right, all my friends, we start with the order the wine is being poured"
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 21 (140-142): Antinous to the rest of the suitors. He basically suggest the order with which everyone will try and string the bow (with the order that the jug holder has poured them wine) from right to left)
~
Tumblr media
But Antinous reproved his words and he called out:
"Leodes! What words have escaped the barrier of your teeth?! This is both painful and dreadful words indeed that I feel resentment by just hearing you! If this is the bow that shall judge who is the best in heart and soul no wonder you cannot string it. Your noble mother hasn't birthed you to be a strong archer or shoot arrows. Let the other noble suitors string it!"
So he spoke and then he ordered Melanthius, the goat herder:
"Melanthius, go and light a fire in the hall and place a great chair by it covered in fleece and bring a large block of fat when you come back so that we shall smear the bow with it and soften it over the flames before we execute our contest"
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 21 (167-180): Antinous to Leodes and immediately after Antinous to Melanthius. Leodes expressed the impossible of stringing the bow and then he claimed that he'd rather die than suffer the loss there for Penelope's hand and Antinous does not like the defeatist attitude. He takes over and orders to Melanthius to bring the tools to care for the bow and make sure it is usable after so long staying in storage. This passage also shows the knowledge Antinous has on weaponry in general and possibly hunting in particular.
~
Tumblr media
Eurymachus, this won't work; you know it yourself, because now it is a public celebration for a god. Who then would string the bow?I say set it aside for now. Newvertheless we shall leave the axes here where they are, for I believe no one shall enter to the palace of Odysseus the son of Laertes, to take them! But let's go, let the cup bearer pour the liberations in our goblets as we make our offerings and let's set aside the curved bows! By the morning we shall order Melanthus the goat herder shall bring the best out of the goats he is tending and herding and so we shall sacrifice their thighs to Apollo of the beautiful bow and we shall try one more time to execute the challenge of this bow.
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 21 (257-268): Antinous to Eurymachus when none of them could string the bow he suggests that it is because it is a public celebration that they should make their own offerings to the gods and call it a day and try another day because he assumed it is possible that the reason they couldn't string it could possibly be that it was because of the celebration. So he suggests to call it a day and offer a sacrifice to Apollo the next day before they try again.
~
Tumblr media
Ah bloody stranger! You have absolutely no trace of wit! You are not satisfied enough that you arrogantly sit and dine with us and you are in no want of food but you also pry in our conversations and overhear our words! No other beggar or stranger ever overheard our words! Undoubtedly the sweet wine has gotten to your head and you know the wine is bad for others too, if greedily take gulps and drink without measure. The wine made even the centaurs and the noble Eurytion act foolishly when they were to the palace of great-hearted Pirithus, when he went to the Lapithes: and because his mind was consumed by wine, his frenzy caused great evil upon the house of Pirithus. And so great sorrow fell upon the heroes for he was dragged out of the doors and thrown out and his ears and nose were cut wit merciless bronze and so he bore the punishment for the madness of his mind. And so it commenced the fight between the Centaurs and the humans. They were the first to see the evil of heavy drinking. And you who speak big words I warn you if you manage to bend the bow you shall not be met with kindness and we shall throw you to a black ship and exile you to the mainland to the king Echeton, the baneful of men, there nothing will save you! Sit still and drink and don't aim to compete against much younger men than you!
(Translation by me)
Rhapsody 21 (288-310): Antinous to Odysseus. Odysseus/Beggar has just slowly approached Eurymachus and Antinous and he has asked for the right to try the bow himself. Antinous got furious that Odysseus overheard them and that he suggested to take part to the challenge and then he assumes that Odysseus is drunk and he even brings up the myth of the centaurs and the Lapithes to say how wine makes people say and do stupid things. Ironically he is most likely self-projecting since he does seem to be the intoxicated one (at least how I read his passages). And those were the last words spoken by Antinous and the last ones addressed to Odysseus.
In the next passages is the death of Antinous (he doesn't get the chance to even react given how Odysseus kills him when he is about to take a drink with an arrow through his throat) and his name is mentioned a few times by Eurymachus and some more mentions by name.
**
As you see there is absolutely no mention whatsoever not even to the murder of Telemachus to none of the scenes where Odysseus is present (mind you neither to the scenes where Penelope is either! Penelope was informed on their scheme by a servant that overheard them and she went down to confront Antinous!)
Also Antinous makes no mention whasoever in any rape! He mentions the myth of the centaurs and Lapithes and NOT EVEN THEN does he mention the attempt of rape of the women by the drunk centaurs yet alone to Penelope! The only things he speaks about is how to keep pressuring Penelope choose a husband and he mentions wedding gifts.
If anything it is ODYSSEUS the one that gets threatened all the time by Antinous and mistreated by him. Antinous even speaks positively about Penelope like 99% of the time with the exception when he calls her devious for her trick that had them all waiting.
Absolutely they want to increase pressure to Penelope and they want to kill her son but that rape thing should be enough at this point! Honestly THIS is where a certain someone SHOULD come out and say that these came out of his head and NOT the Odyssey! Like sure it is your imagination and do whatever with it but damn!
Sorry I am really upset with these smartasses on the internet at this point! Once again forgive me if any of my interpretations is sloppy or even if I have forgotten something. I have double checked but just in case.
161 notes · View notes
skelotom · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
That's right! YOU can commission a creature from me. Scroll through my tumblr, if I've made it for myself I can make it for you.
Robots? You got it.
Slimes? More than you can count.
Fluffy needle-felted things? The fluffiest.
Drawing or sticker? Consider it done.
If you want something I haven't done before, that's ok too! I like that adventurous attitude.
Here's how this works:
Donate to @liddimothie 's ko-fi linked in her post here.
Send me an ask with a thank you screenshot from ko-fi (or you can just tell me the name you used with your donation) and your commission request.
Receive your custom creature/entity and cherish it forever!
Note: Quality of art depends on donation amount. More = better.
Bonus note: I am a perfectionist. Please don't take too much advantage of this fact.
(No matter how little you donate, you'll get something nice, but I also really want to help my friend here. I'm sure you understand.)
150 notes · View notes
xclowniex · 2 days ago
Text
They're already blaming the wildfires on jews
Tumblr media
The fact that they're saying that bombs are causing the wildfires and will continue to cause climate change by saying that the US is funding climate collapse.
And I do agree with part of what she said, climate reparations do need to be paid to indigenous communities. But to paint Israel as causing all these serious climate events is ridiculous.
This is going to be long as I do the math and show my maths but I show my maths to prove I'm not pulling numbers out of my arsehole.
The war hasn't produced enough emissions to be a main cause of climate change.
The only figures we have are for the first 120 days of the war. 450,000 tonnes of greenhouse gasses were released. This include emissions from both Israel and Hamas, using both military operations and infrastructure to come to thay conclusion.
Assuming it stays at the same level 1,350,000 or 1 million and 350 thousand tonnes for those who prefer bigger numbers written.
According to the World Meteorological Organization, total emissions projected at the end of 2024 per data published November 2024 was 41.6 billion tonnes. This is a compounded figure so to find out emissions released in 2024 alone, we'd need to subtract 2023 compounded figure (37.4b) from 2024 estimated compounded figure. This is figure is 4.2 billion.
So to take the figure of the war emissions estimate for 1 year and find out the percentage of total emissions 2024, it makes up 0.03% of total emissions.
No 2024 breakdown for each country has been publish so by using 2023 figures and assuming the percentages are similar to 2024, here are some but very much not all, of the countries which had higher emissions than the war for 1 year
Chad, Maldives, Togo, niger, Madagascar, Haiti, Congo, Iceland, Mauritius, Namibia, Albania, Papa New Guinea, New Caledonia, Afghanistan, Nicaragua, Burkina Faso, Jamaica, Armenia, Cyprus, Uganda, etc.
153 countries/autonomous territories had more emissions than the war in the span of a year.
And it honestly is more. The percentages only go as low as 0.01% before it taps out and puts then at zero.
160 countries if we go by tonnes, released more emissions than the war in the span of a year.
So even if all the emissions were from Israel with the war emissions, it still isn't a lot.
If we talk about the increase, so how much the emissions affected total emission increase. The best figure is also from the world metrological organization is 0.4 billion aka 400 million tones.
The war emissions was literally 0.33% of the total increase. 398,650,000 emissions were still released more than last year excluding the wars contribution.
There is no ecocide done by Israel.
And I also find it insulting that she compares the LA wildfires to Gaza and says they're going through the same thing.
Do not get me wrong, my heart does go out to all of those affected by the fire.
But you're telling me, that (per figures earlier today) 7 people killed and 10,000 structures (including cars) damaged is the same as the destruction and lives lost in Gaza.
You have to be joking.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. Whilst I support Israel existing and it does have a right to defend itself, the Israeli government has gone too far.
I've also said it before but I'll say it again - two things can both be horrendously bad and still have quantifiable measures of which was more destructive and caused more harm.
The LA fires are bad and what's happening in Gaza is also bad. Both are bad and deserve attention.
But to act like the damages caused by the fire is the same as Gaza??????? Absolutely cooked behavior please get off the internet forever.
188 notes · View notes