#occupy turkey

[dostoyevsky-official]

are there any not corrupt, normal groups in syria?

rojava, a democratic, autonomous, pluralist government in northern syria. it was the most effective fighting force against ISIS, next to the peshmerga in iraq, saving the yazidis, and which is, unfortunately, time and again oppressed by turkey, which keeps ethnically cleansing kurds

[omegaversereloaded]

Coca-Cola is now on the official BDS boycott list!

From the website:

November 2024

1) Why?

Because Coca-Cola is implicated in Israeli war crimes.

According to research by WhoProfits, the Central Beverage Company, known as Coca-Cola Israel, which is the exclusive franchisee of the Coca-Cola Company in Israel, “operates a regional distribution center and cooling houses in the [Israeli] Atarot Settlement Industrial Zone.” Furthermore, its subsidiary, Tabor Winery, “produces wines from grapes sourced from vineyards located on occupied land in settlements in the West Bank and Syrian Golan.” 

The International Court of Justice affirmed in July 2024 that Israel’s entire occupation of Gaza and the West Bank, including East Jerusalem, is illegal, as are all Israeli settlements built on occupied land. As Israeli settlements – on occupied Palestinian and Syrian land – are considered war crimes under international law, Coke is complicit in a war crime. 

Corporations that are implicated in the commission of international crimes connected to Israel’s unlawful occupation, racial segregation and apartheid regime - within or beyond the Palestinian territories occupied in 1967 - are all complicit and must be held accountable. Direct complicity includes military, logistical, intelligence, financial and infrastructure support. The corporations, as well as their boards of directors and executives, may face criminal liability for this complicity.

Local alternatives are popping up worldwide to substitute Coca-Cola, an unnecessary and replaceable beverage

Local alternatives to Coca-Cola have been gaining market share across the world, including in Palestine, China, Bangladesh, Sweden, Egypt, India, South Africa, Turkey, Lebanon and elsewhere.

2) Why NOW?

The BDS movement has always considered Coca-Cola boycottable but has not prioritized it as a target based on its careful and strategic target-selection criteria, so why endorse the Coke boycott now? 

Human rights and health activists, among many others, have been campaigning against Coca-Cola and similarly complicit corporations for decades, including grassroots drives targeting the company for its complicity in Israel’s gross violations of Palestinian human rights. 

During Israel’s ongoing, livestreamed genocide, Israeli soldiers have often been pictured with Coke cans, donated to them by various genocide-enabling groups. This has provoked even more anger against the company, particularly given that Israel is starving 2.3 million Palestinians in the occupied and besieged Gaza Strip, severely limiting their access to clean water and, as a result, inducing the mass spread of contagious diseases. 

Given this context, Palestinian activists in Gaza and many BDS activists in the Arab world, in many Muslim-majority countries, and in some European countries as well, have called on the BDS movement to add Coke to its priority targets.

The BDS movement had previously targeted General Mills for its manufacturing of Pillsbury products in the illegal Atarot Settlement Industrial Zone - the same Zone where the Coke facility operates. Thanks to effective BDS campaigning, we won the demand for General Mills to end its business in Atarot. We know a campaign against Coke is winnable too. 

Based on all the above, and given Coke’s large contribution (through business-as-usual and taxes) to Israel’s war chest during the genocide, the Palestinian BDS National Committee (BNC), the largest Palestinian coalition leading the global BDS movement, has endorsed the grassroots, organic #BoycottCoke campaigns to pressure the company to end its complicity in Israel’s illegal occupation, apartheid and genocide. 

UPDATED VERSION!!!!

[choppedcowboydinosaur]

It's good to criticize that mindset. Another thing they should consider is that there are other actors in the region who are acting out of their own desires independent of what America, Assad or the rebels want. Like the Turks and Israeli's for example.

Fellow leftist: "The media is far too simplistic, al-Assad was terrible, but that doesn't mean the forces currently taking over Syria are good. They're also pretty shit..."

Me: "Yes! Finally, some nuance. There's multiple factions and-"

Fellow leftist: "... which means this much be a fake rebellion fully engineered by the US government to turn Syria into a puppet state because no movement born of the people of Syria could want this."

Me: "Whoa now, take off the tinfoil hat. I know the US loves to do some international meddling but I'm pretty sure they didn't create HTS, nor are they thrilled about the role of al-Julani after trying to kill the man for over a decade. The world is not divided into Pure Moral People's Struggles and Imperialist Conspiracies. That's not a helpful new binary."

[rayvern-sheep]

Bro mental illness sucks ass

Cos I feel angry and defeated and have NO idea why.

It’s like dealing w/ a crying infant, like the kind that can’t talk yet. It’s just screaming and crying. And you’re there trying everything in a desperate attempt to make it stop. Food? No. Sleep? No. Stinky? No. Lonely? No. Under-stimulated/bored? No. Overstimulated?? No.

I have very recently (since giving up on my second lot of anti-depressants) realised that sometimes you just feel like shit. There is no cause, they is no pushing through it and gritting your teeth and pretending to be okay. Sometimes you just gotta wait it out. And I haaaaate that. As someone w/ adhd I don’t have the fucking patience. I feel that need to find a fix for my mood. But there just isn’t. It will pass with time, and until then I just need to go abt life and try not to ruin anyone else’s day. That last part is rlly hard when you’re grumpy and hate everything…

There is no “positive mindset”-ing my way out of this. There is no clawing and scrabbling and fighting my way out of this. I just gotta sit there, try to avoid things that will make it worse, and wait.

[steddieprompts]

Another mini fic. cutesy. Eddie is an idiot. 1880 words.

Thanksgiving, 1986.

Eddie smiled into the phone as Joyce listed off all the people who were going to be at their early Thanksgiving.  “Argyle is flying in from California, and Dustin is bringing his mom.  You and your uncle should come! The more the merrier!”

“That sounds great, Mrs. Byers.  We’d love to.”  Eddie replied.

“Oh good!  Remember, Friday at 3:30, we’ll eat at 4:30.”

“We’ll be there.”

Eddie hung up the phone and left a note for Wayne.  He wouldn’t be home until 4 in the morning.  Eddie was sure he would have something to say about it.  “Ain’t got nothin’ to bring,” or “Three’s a crowd, not sure what to call twenty.”  But he would go. Hopper would have a glass of whisky for him, and they would sit out on the porch after dinner swapping war stories.

What worried Eddie more was his… situation with Steve.  See, earlier in the week he and Steve had gone to the movies.  They had had a nice time, a really good time, even, and for a few months Eddie had sensed something building between them.  He just couldn’t believe it was anything close to what he deeply, deeply hoped for.  He was so in his head about it that after the movies, when Steve dropped him back at the trailer, Eddie panicked.  Acted like a virgin idiot, really.  Steve had parked the car, glanced up at the dark trailer before turning towards Eddie.

“I had a really good time tonight.”  He had said.

“Uh, yeah, it was nice.”  Eddie replied, tense in his seat because he could sense something coming from Steve.

“Yeah, nice.”  Steve mused and then Eddie made the fatal mistake of looking at him.  Steve was sort of leaning towards him, elbow on the armrest between the seats, head tilted ever so slightly, eyes soft.

“Yup!”  Eddie squeaked out and then grabbed the door handle, throwing the door open and tripping out of the car like he was being chased by the devil.  “We should, uh, do it again sometime.  Bye!”  He bumbled out before slamming the door and launching himself up the porch stairs and into the trailer.

He hadn’t really talked to Steve since.

+++++++

So, that Friday, when he and Wayne were welcomed into the Byers’ home, he wasn’t sure what to expect.  Wayne was immediately pulled away by Hopper and a glass of whiskey, leaving Eddie to shuffle awkwardly towards the living room.  Once the kids saw him, he had something to keep him occupied, until all the hugs were given out and Nancy brought him a drink.  He hadn’t seen Steve yet.

“Uh, where’s Max?  Not here yet?”  Eddie asked as he accepted the drink.

“Oh!  She’s with Will and El in the kitchen.  They’re helping Mrs. Byers with the cooking,” Nancy explained.

“I should go say hi.”  Eddie stepped away from the living room towards the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks when he got to the threshold.  There, next to Mrs. Byers at the stove, was Steve, with his knit, red sweater and a towel over his shoulder, like some sort of Christmas romance movie hero.

“Eddie’s here!”  He heard Will say before he could tear his eyes away from Steve, who, of course, turned around as soon as he heard Eddie’s name.  Bemused, he watched a smile spread over Steve’s face before Will enveloped him in a hug.  A hug that Eddie graciously returned.

“Sir William, it is an honor to be welcomed into your abode.” Eddie said with a little bow, before hugging Max and El.

“Eddie!  We’re so glad you made it!”  Joyce said from the stove as Eddie took another few cautious steps into the room.  “Is your uncle here too?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s with Hopper tending the fire,” Eddie relied, “Thank you, again, for having us.”

“Of course, sweetheart!”

Eddie chanced another look at Steve.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve said, eyes warm, easy smile.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie replied.  Maybe he hadn’t totally fucked everything up as much as he thought.  But Steve seemed quiet, reserved. Maybe he had.

“I think about ten more minutes!”  Joyce said, pulling the turkey out of the oven.  “I need Hop to come carve the turkey.  Hop!”  She yelled out into the noisy living room.

“I’ll go find him, Mrs. B,” Eddie volunteered before ducking out of the kitchen… and right into Robin.

“You.” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“Uh, hello to you too, Bobin.”

“What the hell did you do to Steve?”

Eddie’s heart dropped into his shoes.  “I… what? Nothing!”

“He’s been mopey for the past five days!  The last thing he did was go to the movies with you!”

“I swear!”

“Did you say something about his hair?  You know his last haircut didn’t really go the way he planned.  Or was it the movie?  Did you tell him you didn’t want to see Hoosiers?  Because you know how much he wanted to see that movie.”

“No! Buckley, we saw Hoosiers! And I didn’t even notice his hair.  Look…”  Eddie let out his breath in a huff.  “Just hold on.”  Eddie moved from the hallway to the living room so he could see Hopper.  “Hey, chief?  The missus needs you to carve the bird.”  Hopper nodded to him and Eddie turned on his heel to go back to his conversation with Robin, only to come face to face with the woman herself.  It was a miracle he didn’t spill his drink down her shirt.  “Ok, look, come here.”  Eddie murmured, dragging her off into a corner of the hall.

He took a sip of his drink and steeled himself.  “Ok, I might have, maybe, panicked, a little when he dropped me off,” Eddie mumbled out.

“You what?”

“Look, you can’t tell anyone, but I’ve got this stupid… fat… stupid crush on Harrington and I might have, like, freaked out about it.”

“…you what…”

“I know it’s stupid! But he looked so… soft! And just.  Like he might have, I don’t know, wanted to kiss me or something, but there is no way that could have been what was happening, but my stupid primate brain thought it was, so I bolted, Okay?  I’m not proud of it. It probably came off as weird and rude and that’s probably what got him all twisted up.”  Eddie took a deep breath after his rant, and then a sip of his drink, watching Robin’s face cycle through uncountable emotions.

“Edward, I say this with the utmost sympathy as well as disrespect.  You, are an idiot.”  And with that she left him blinking in the hallway.

Eddie thought about those two little sentences throughout the entire dinner.  An idiot?  He knew he was an idiot, but why?  Because he thought Steve maybe liked him?  Or because he didn’t kiss Steve?  What the hell did she mean?  Not to mention Steve was across the table from him and every time Eddie looked up, Steve would look away from him like he had been staring.

“Eddie!”

“Huh?!” Eddie tore his eyes away from Steve to look at Dustin.

“I was asking if we were still on for our campaign next week.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m almost done.  Just need to iron out the kinks.”  Eddie replied, feeling Steve’s gaze burning into the side of his head, but when he looked back Steve’s eyes were back on his plate.  He had been uncharacteristically quiet when Eddie was in the kitchen.  Was he mad at Eddie?  No, that couldn’t have been it; he gave Eddie that smile that nearly made him forget where he was.

Steve was being cautious. Guarded. So unlike himself.

Eddie really had screwed up.

“In the drama room?”  Eddie heard Dustin say, distantly.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie answered, eyes not leaving Steve, who kept glancing up at him.

He had to fix this.  He wanted the old Steve back.  Wanted more than that, if his luck was with him.

After everyone had eaten and Mrs. Henderson was bringing out the pies, Joyce started to gather the plates.

“I’ve got it, Mrs. B.  You sit.”  Eddie said, standing and gathering the plates around him.  “Stevie, you wanna help me with dish duty?”  He asked, sending up a little prayer to the universe that his stupid, little, half-baked plan would work.  Steve nodded and started gathering the plates on his side.

In the kitchen, plates stacked high on the counter next to the sink, Eddie stood with his hands in the soapy water, the sound of his extended family floating in from the dining room, and Steve next to him with a towel in his hands, drying the dishes Eddie handed him.

“About Monday night…” Eddie started hesitantly.  He saw Steve freeze next to him.  He kept his gaze on the dish he was washing. If he looked at Steve he might choke again.  “I… Shit, I don’t know what happened. I just… well I thought maybe there was something, I don’t know, between us.  But I’m not good at reading those signs, ya know?  Not much experience.”  He heard himself chuckle wryly, before clearing his throat.  At least Steve was unfrozen, listening and drying a casserole dish.  “But it’s not about that, not really.  I shouldn’t have just… bolted like that.  I can’t pretend to understand what was happening, but whatever it was, that was a pretty shitty reaction on my part.  And I’m sorry, Stevie.” 

He kept washing the dish in his hands, watching out of the corner of his eye as Steve put the casserole dish down.

“Eddie, look at me.”  Eddie turned his head, meeting Steve’s gaze.  His warm, gentle, beautiful gaze.  “it’s not all your fault.”

“Oh…”  Eddie let out a little noise.  That didn’t answer any of his questions, but he couldn’t look away.  He couldn’t look away as Steve stepped closer.  Couldn’t look away as Steve took the dish out of his hands and gave him the towel.

“Come on,” Steve said, nodding over his shoulder towards the back door.  Eddie quickly dried his hands and followed Steve outside to the back porch.  The air was frosty, the lightest dusting of snow on the handrail and tiny flakes dancing in the dim porch light.  “I should have…”  Steve settled his hip against the porch rail, looking down at his nails.  “I should have been more up front with you.”  He said, finally looking at Eddie.

Shit.  Steve was going to try to let him down easy.  He knew he read it wrong.

“I really, really like you, Eddie.”  What? “And I’ve never really felt this way about a guy,” What?? “Let alone a friend.  And I’ve been so scared of ruining what we have.  I should have just told you.” Excuse me?

“Wait.”  Eddie let out a little, exasperated laugh, reeling it back in when Steve winced. “Stevie, you like me?”  Steve just nodded.  “Did you really want to kiss me? Monday night?”  Steve nodded again.  Eddie took a steadying breath, “do you still?”

There was a pause… and then…

That soft, warm, smile that made Eddie feel like he was made of sunlight.

“Yeah,” Steve barely got out before Eddie launched himself at him, cupping Steve’s cheeks, kissing him until he knew that smile by feel alone.

Happy Thanksgiving.

[ssavaart]

What does the word Genocide mean to you?

For me... the word Sayfo comes to mind.

Sayfo is the word we use for the Assyrian genocide.

In 1915, my grandfather fled his village of Charbash near Urmia in Iran when he was just 11 years old.

The Ottoman Empire took the land from the Assyrians. The indigenous people native to Mesopotamia (where modern Iran, Iraq, and Turkey exist now).

Over 250,000 Assyrians were wiped out by the occupying Ottoman Empire.

Half of the entire population of the remaining indigenous people.

The rest fled for their lives.

My grandfather and grandmother, being two that, thankfully, made it to New York.

Now, Assyrians have no homeland. No country.

An entire ethnic group that  has been around for around 3,000 years almost completely wiped out of existence by an empire that no longer exists.

It's just so senseless. 

This painting I did of a woman in a Hijab. I have posters of them on my site. 

ssavaart.com

All of the proceeds from the sale of this poster is going to Doctors Without Borders.

I'll sign and ship each and every one of them. 

I know it's not much. It won't stop a genocide. 

But maybe... just maybe... 100 years from now someone's grandchild will be alive and they can tell the story of THEIR people... and what happened to them.

Sending Big Hugs from the Hobbit Hole. ♥♥♥

Scott

[natalievoncatte]

“Today?” Kara said, “really?”

There was a silence in the house, as a pall had fallen over it. Everyone was gathered for the festivities and the turkey in the oven was filling the house with a delightful scent that made Lena’s mouth water. Thanksgiving was supposed to be the one day that Lena could forget about her waistline and just indulge herself. She’d been “helping” Eliza along with Alex and Kelly and Nia while the boys and Kara were out back tossing a football and pretending that she and J’onn didn’t have an outrageous advantage over Brainy and James.

Now Kara was standing in the living room as the news broke in over the football game and announced that a rampaging alien was tearing apart Rio de Janiero.

“Guys,” Kara said solemnly, “I have to go.”

Lena’s heart sank. She knew better than to protest. Kara had already glumly removed her glasses and was about to go grab her suit. Lena reached out and curled a hand around her bicep.

“Please be careful, darling.”

Lena could feel eyes on her back, Eliza and Alex and Nia all watching, silently urging one of them to just finally make a damned move. Lena *lived with her*, for God’s sake, and had since she sold her penthouse. They shared breakfasts and Kara gave her foot rubs and still they were stuck in this maddening limbo without defining what and who they were and it seemed neither dared to ask.

Lena knew what she wanted the answer to be, and how it ached inside her.

Kara glumly trudged down the stairs in full Supergirl regalia, regal and imposing as ever and just as beautiful. Since she’d revealed her identity to the world she’d been freed from the constraints of having to disguise herself, and a few months ago had buzzed the left side of her head, having trimmed the rest to shoulder length, and Lena longed to run her fingers over the fuzz.

She’d also altered her suit again. It no longer had sleeves. Every time Lena saw her, it felt like her soul was going to escape her body.

Kara came over and put her hands on Lena’s arms.

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

Lena gulped down her anxiety.

“I can hear your heart, you know.”

“Just be careful. Please.”

Kara started to turn. Maybe it was the audience, maybe she was just tired of being mired in this thick tension between them. Maybe it was the wine. She grabbed Kara’s arm again and sprang forward to brush her lips against Kara’s cheek, dangerously close to Kara’s mouth.

“For luck.”

Kara’s eyes flew open wide and she gaped at Lena.

“I’ll be b-back,” she said, and swept out the door, cape billowing majestically.

God how Lena hated that cape, sometimes. It blocked the view.

What had been a festive gathering grew quiet. Everyone gathered around the television to see what was going on, save Eliza who politely excused herself to the kitchen, hiding tears that everyone politely ignored.

Lena joined her. She was making the gravy.

“A life of fighting isn’t what I wanted for her,” she said.

“Me either.”

They were alone in the kitchen and Eliza was whisking a roux as she waited for the raw flour smell to cook off.

“Lena, do you have feelings for my daughter?”

Lena swallowed hard, grabbing a knife to chop carrots for glazing so that she’d have something to occupy your hands.

Eliza’s voice was soft, something wistful in her eyes. “You must know how she feels about you.”

Lena had to stop to avoid slicing open her finger, almost feeling the touch of the blade. She cleared her throat.

“I do,” she admitted. “I very much do. If I’m going to be honest with myself, I’ve been in love with her for years.”

Eliza nodded, utterly unsurprised. “Kara is very hesitant about delicate things. When she first started living with us, she used to rip doorknobs off and break things at random while she learned to control her powers. She’s probably told you about Streaky.”

“She has.”

Eliza began pouring stock into the pot, her whisk making soft scraping sounds.

“She’s still that way about everything. Afraid if she pushes too hard, she’ll break something.”

Lena nodded. It was at that moment that Alex stormed into the kitchen. “She’s back.”

Immediately, Lena rushed out into the living room. Kara trudged through the door, and sighed.

“He got a few good hits in but he’s contained.”

Lena could only stare. Her suit was covered in scorch marks and even worse, Kara was bruised, her knuckles especially battered. She smiled weakly.

“I just need a minute to clean up.”

With a deep sigh, Kara turned and headed upstairs.

Lena could feel the eyes on her before she glanced back. Eliza motioned a silent “Go”, and Lena went.

She knocked at the bathroom door.

“Lena?” said Kara.

She always knew. Super-senses.

“It’s me. Can I come in?”

Brief hesitation, then, “yes.”

Lena stepped inside and closed the door. Kara was washing her hands, the injuries already vanishing. Lena didn’t care. She took Kara’s hands anyway, gently washing them under warm water.

She then fumbled at the clasps and unhooked Kara’s cape, and folded it. It was surprisingly heavy, made of a dense material from her long lost home. Setting it aside, she rested her hand against Kara’s deliciously broad back, silently waiting for permission.

“Go ahead,” Kara said in a shaky voice.

Lena freed the tab of the hidden zipper and pulled, baring Kara’s expansive muscular back, and peeled the suit away from her shoulders. Kara had nothing but a sports bra and boxer briefs on beneath. She finished shimmying out of the suit on her own.

Lena has seen Kara in bathing suits, or caught flashes of her changing, but this was different, somehow more intimate. There was a vulnerability, not just in the woman disrobing but in the goddess showing Lena her bruises. Lena gently touched a black and purple mark on Kara’s flank.

“This one hurt, didn’t it.”

“It always hurts. I can feel it, I just pretend I don’t.”

Lena looked up at her and met her gaze.

“Kara, may I kiss you?”

Kara blinked and Lena could actually feel her tremble.

“Yes,” she breathed.

Lena rose on her tiptoes and pressed their lips together very softly, with a deliberate slowness. When Kara kissed her back and pulled her into a delicate embrace, hands bracketed low on her hips, Lena felt like she could fly.

Kara was looking at her in wonder.

“Was that for more luck?”

Lena felt bold. She had seize the moment now, before she lost her nerve and they fell back into tense limbo.

“Kara Danvers, if you want to, you can get very lucky tonight.”

Her eyes were wide and Lena grinned.

“I umm, I…”

Lena trailed a finger down the center of Kara’s muscular chest.

“Dinner is almost ready, darling. Take your shower. Just remember to save room for dessert.”

Kara favored her with a delighted smile as Lena stepped out of the bathroom and padded down the stairs.

When she reached the ground floor, everyone was pointedly focused elsewhere, either on the football game or cooking, and Kelly and Nia were playing cards at the dining room table.

Alexa, though, handed her a beer. Lena took it with a shaking hand.

“Fucking finally,” Alex whispered. “Just don’t get too loud tonight, okay? Go down to the beach if you can’t control yourself.”

Lena’s eyes narrowed.

“I hate you.”

“Love ya too, sis-in-law,” said Alex.

“We’re not married yet.”

Alex tipped back her brew. “Six months, tops.”

Lena took a long pull on her beer and scowled.

(It ended up being four months)

[emmylksblog]

A LOSS IS A WIN // KENAN YILDIZ

summary: husband! kenan is left devastated after turkey lost against portugal and you can only provide him with the best news he could get on that gloomy day

genre: angst, comfort, fluff

warnings: pregnancy i guess

words: 1885

a/n: realised this pookie didn’t have a lot of imagines and took matter into my own hands 😈 (i didn’t forget requests i’m working on them i’m just slow 😔)

After a long drive back Kenan and you arrive at your home. Kenan is fuming with anger and frustration to the point he is banging his hands against the steering wheel of the car, while you attempt to calm him down. Finally after a few deep breaths and some silent praying, he unbuckles his seatbelt and get out of the car, slamming the door. You get out the car in a much calmer fashion and walk into the house with Kenan not far behind.

You quietly close the door and flick on the hallway light. Kenan is still grumbling and kicking off his shoes. He walks to the sofa and falls into the cushions, burying his head in his hands.

You hover in the hallway, not sure whether he is ready to be comforted just yet, but still you want to make sure he is ok. You think back to countless nights like these. You know how to comfort him after years, caressing his hair and rubbing his temples always helps to relax him. However, today the match seemed to rile him up more than ever before. He didn’t even seem to notice that you were stood behind him.

Sitting down beside him, you reach down and run your finger through his hair. He still has yet to turn and look at you. Slowly his breathing slows and he leans closer to your touch, as your hand massages his scalp.

Now he is at least breathing normally and seems to be relaxing. He still keeps his face in his hands and continues to stare at the floor, taking deep breaths. You pause your caressing for a moment and watch him carefully, waiting to see if he will say something first.

Kenan stays with his face in his hands for an agonisingly long time. The air in the room feels heavy, like there is a storm coming. You continue the caressing, your fingers moving back and forth through his hair. He lets out a long and dejected sigh, and pulls his head up. He still doesn’t look at you, the disappointment etched onto his face.

Kenan suddenly pushes himself up from the sofa. He mutters something about taking a shower and heads to the bathroom. He is still annoyed and frustrated from the game. Once he grabs a towel and clothes from the bedroom, he enters the bathroom and closes the door. You can hear the shower starting and the banging of clothes being discarded around the room.

With Kenan occupied in the bathroom, you make your way to the kitchen. You decide to prepare some dinner to distract your mind from the events of today. You make something quick and comforting, a simple meal that you often eat after a particularly stressful day.

You are just finishing plating up the food, when Kenan exits the bathroom. He is dressed in an over sized t-shirt and pyjama pants, his hair still wet. It’s a look that you’ve always found adorable, but today his usual cuteness is overshadowed by his obvious annoyance.

He walks into the kitchen and flops into a chair. He sighs loudly and you bring the food to the table, placing a large plate of pasta in front of him. He looks up and gives you a weak smile.

You slide into the chair opposite him. He still hasn’t said anything but has began slowly picking at the food. He is taking slow bites with a lost look in his eyes. You can’t tell if he is going to say something or break down in tears.

Silence pervades the room, as you two eat your food. Every now and then you hear a slurp or clink of a fork against a plate. Kenan suddenly speaks up, his voice quiet and emotionless.

"You know, I really thought we had a chance," he mutters between mouthfuls. He isn’t looking at you, just staring down at his food, a look of disappointment on his face.

You say nothing, just continuing to eat, waiting for him to continue to speak. He takes another bite of pasta and then mutters bitterly, "But we were just never good enough."

He pushes the plate, full of half-finished pasta, away from him. He rests his head in his hands and groans. He mutters “I wasn’t good enough…” under his breath, his voice barely audible.

Your heart aches as you watch him. You know how much he loves football and how hard he works every day to be better. You know this is eating away at him inside, as it does with every loss.

As you walk around to his side of the table, you see tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. You place your hand on his back and start to rub it softly. He takes deep, shuddering breaths, trying to hold back his tears, but it’s all too much. He suddenly buries his face into your stomach and grips your hips tightly.

You thread your fingers through his hair and rub his back slowly and speak soft and sweetly, saying “Baby, it’s ok, it’s ok, I’m here.”

Kenan buries his head deeper into your stomach, breathing heavily. He still grips your hips, as if you are a rock for him to cling to in a storm. “I wasn’t good enough,” he mutters. “We weren’t good enough.”

Softly, you take his face in your hands and make him look at you. You brush away the tears on his cheeks as you say, “Listen to me, you are the best football player I know. You work so hard every day and give your all to be the best. Just because you lost tonight, doesn’t mean that you aren’t good enough.”

He is still breathing heavily, but seems to calm down slightly as he looks into your eyes. “But I wasn’t good enough for this match. I should have done more. I let all of Turkey down, I let them all down.”

You continue to hold his face in your hands, as if to keep him grounded and focused. You continue speaking, “You didn’t let anyone down, I promise. You have done so much for your country. You are amazing at such a young age baby, win, lose or draw.”

He is still breathing deeply, but the tears have slowed. He leans his face into your hands, his eyes watery. He says softly, “I just, I wish I could have won. I wish I could have made everyone proud.”

You gently caress his cheeks, trying to console him as much as possible. “You do make everyone proud. You make me proud, my love.”

He shuts his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. He’s is leaning into your touch, and seems to finally be relaxing. He mutters quietly “I love you,” and grabs onto your wrists, wrapping your fingers in his.

You smile slightly and say back softly, “I love you too, baby.” He is holding onto your wrists like a lifeline, like if he lets go you’ll disappear.

You take a deep breath, knowing this the perfect moment to reveal the news. You look him dead in the eyes and say gently, “You know who else will love you?”

He looks back at you, blinking in confusion. He tilts his head to the side, still a little dazed from his emotions. He is still holding on to you like a lifeline, still not letting go. He says quietly, “Who? Who else will love me?”

You try to calm your beating heart. You say softly, but firmly, “Our baby.”

Kenan is silent for a moment, staring at you intently. His grip on your wrists tightens slightly. He blinks a couple times, clearly not having expected to hear that. He is completely shocked, trying to process what you’ve just said. He mutters out, “What did you just say?”

You smile slightly, trying to calm yourself. You repeat softly, “Our baby. You’re going to be a dad.”

Kenan’s eyes widen in disbelief. He takes a shaky breath, still not quite believing what he’s hearing. “I’m gonna be…I’m gonna be a dad?” he stammers. His voice breaks just slightly, still not letting go of your wrists.

You nod and let tears of joy stream down your face. Kenan’s expression is slowly lighting up, his eyes becoming wider than you’ve ever seen them before. He says back to you in a stammering voice, “We’re having a baby? You’re having a baby? I’m going to be a dad?”

You nod again and a smile begins to cover your face. “Yes, we’re having a baby. I’m going to be a mom and you’re going to be a dad,” you say. Tears are streaming down your face, but they are tears of complete joy.

He suddenly grabs you around the waist and lifts you up into his arms.

You laugh joyously as he swings you around the room, your feet not touching the ground. He is laughing and whooping so loudly you think he’ll wake the neighbours. Even though he was so upset at the result of the game earlier, he is so ecstatic that you are going to have a baby together.

He spins you around and around and you cling on tighter to his shoulders to stop yourself from getting dizzy. He finally comes to a stop, holding onto you so that your feet are off the ground. Both of you are still laughing and holding each other tightly, the atmosphere having completely changed from half an hour ago.

You reach down and kiss him softly on the lips. He responds by holding you closer to his chest and pulling you into the kiss.

He deepens the kiss, holding you close to him. His arms are wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you from slipping down. His lips are soft and warm against yours as he kisses you passionately.

Kenan breaks the kiss and looks at you, his arms still wrapped tightly around your waist. He rests his forehead against yours and says softly, “I don’t care if I lose every match from now on. This is the best gift I’ve ever received.” He then begins to pepper your face with kisses, your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids, showering you in affection.

“I love you so much. I am so, so very lucky to have you.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as he nuzzles into your neck.

Kenan bends his knees and slowly lowers you to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, he bends down himself and places a firm kiss against your stomach, directly where the baby is.

He rests his forehead against your stomach, as he would often do whenever you feel unwell. He takes a deep breath and then whispers softly against your stomach, “Hello little one, it’s daddy.”

He presses another kiss against your stomach, before slowly rising back up to his full height. He wraps his arms around your waist again and pulls you close to his chest. He gives you a kiss on your forehead as he says quietly, “I love you both so much.”

You rest your head on his chest, your head tucked nicely under his chin. You say back quietly, “We love you too, so much.”

[boypied]

pairings: dick grayson x male reader

request: part 2 of dick grayson where you cooking/cleaning for him and you bend over and he sees that you are wearing a butt plug and he goes feral.

warnings: SMUT ! , swearing, dirty talk, spanking, anal sex, nipple play.

MDNI + FDNI !

You decided to be a sexy naked chef, wearing nothing but an apron because Dick has been such a good boyfriend to you. You want to give him a treat. Dick leans in the kitchen doorway, watching you cook his favourite meal.

While you were cooking his favourite meal, you bent down to look in the oven, and as you do, it gives Dick an opportunity to check out your hole, which is currently occupied by an ruby red buttplug.

Dick's mind goes blank, and all he can think about is how infatuated he is with your hole, the way it clings tightly around the buttplug keeping it nice and secure.

You pull his meal out of the oven and gently place it on the side, allowing it to cool down before you begin prepping it for eating.

You don't notice Dick creeping up behind you, cupping your ass with his hand, you gasp. "D-Dick, what are you doing?" You ask, your voice quivering with how horny you've become.

He moves his hand under your apron and gently begins to jerk you off while whispering dirty things in your ear. "You're so hard for Daddy." he groans in your ear as you gently wiggle your ass against his ever-growing bulge.

His speed begins to quicken as your hands grip the counter, "Are you close, baby?" He coos in your ear as your cock stiffens and leaks a fountain of pre-cum. You nod, "ah ah ahh, baby. Use your words" he says while smirking, using his other hand to pull out the buttplug.

"Y-Yes Dick, I-Im close." Dick moves his hand away from your cock, placing the buttplug on the side. He spits down on his cock, gently rubbing the tip against your hole.

He gently pushes his cock inside of your, not wanting to hurt you. "Fuck, we fuck everyday and I always forget how tight you are". You giggle slightly but they quickly turn into moans of pleasure.

You gently thrust your ass back, fucking yourself on his cock, he unties the apron letting it drop off your body. Dick's hands rush up to gently pinch your nipples, which causes pleasure to take over your entire body as your g-spot gets milked.

You begin to shake your ass, pleasuring Dick's stiff member. Dick groans and mumbles sweet nothings into your ear as you slide your ass back and forth against his cock.

"Your ass is trying to milk me dry." Dick says while groaning as he continues to pinch your nipples. "Your cock is so thick, baby" you say while Dick takes control.

The only noise that can be heard from your apartment is wet slapping sounds and moans. "Dick, fill me up, please!" You beg him as your cock starts to stiffen and throb, "I'm gonna cum, please fill me"

Dick pulls your back against his chest, kissing your neck as you both climax together. "AH! daddy fuck" you moan as his cum shoots against your g-spot which increases the load that you shoot over the counter.

You rest your palms against the counter as Dick pulls out of you, kissing your neck. You feel the load drip out of your ass and down your leg, "So, should I carve the turkey?" You say while looking up at Dick.

[2hightocare]

SWEET NOTHINGS ✷

Summary: You and Jungkook host thanksgiving dinner at your guys’ house, but Jungkook is head over heels in love with you.

pairing: husband!jungkook x wife!reader

warnings: pure fluff, jungkook is whipped, reader and jungkook are corny as hell, and a lot of curse words. A lot of kissing… a little bit of spanish. crying.

"Baby, what are you wearing? Are we going to match?" Your husband yells from upstairs, making you chuckle lightly. "I left your outfit hanging in the bathroom," you yell back while bending over, turning on the light of the oven where the turkey Jungkook added almost four hours ago stares back at you.

"Do I take the turkey out now, babe?" You yell for your husband upstairs to listen. "I don’t know; let me call my mom," he says. You jump, a small shriek leaving your lips as you put your hand over your heart and close your eyes.

"Fuck, you scared the shit outta me," a small chuckle slips past your mouth as Jungkook laughs with his head thrown back and dimples on full display.

"I’m so sorry, baby. I thought you heard me coming downstairs." His mouth adorned with a grin while slowly pulling you to him with his hands on your waist.

"Hi," you say as he kisses your lips.

"Hi, baby," he greets back, putting a loose piece of your hair behind your ear. "You look so beautiful," Jungkook gives you one more kiss before making you do a little spin for him.

Your brown long-sleeve off-shoulder mini dress matches his brown crewneck. His black jeans match your black stockings and black long boots you ended up stealing from your sister last time she visited. "You look sexy, so eatable I’m afraid." You look up at him with a big smile on your face before tiptoeing to give him a quick kiss before making your way back to the mashed potatoes you said you would do.

One thing about Jungkook is that he could stay mesmerized by your actions and words even if whatever you were doing was something so normal just like right now. The way your curled hair falls in front of your face, but with your hands occupied, you try to blow on it before trying to use your elbow to push it away, causing Jungkook to let out a chuckle, making his way to help you.

"I thought that was the reason you have a bow on, baby." Jungkook pushes both your long curtain bangs back to its place, securing it with the bow. "I’m not even going to ask how you were able to do that so fast," you throw a glare at Jungkook, making him burst into another laugh.

"Baby, I have to fix Ji-woo’s bows all the time." Jungkook laughs softly in the crook of your neck from behind, his hands wrapped around your waist.

Ji-woo being yours’ and Jungkook’s only goddaughter, and the only child in both of your families. You and Jungkook always brought up the topic of kids for it to always be shut down after seeing kids throw tantrums in tv shows or when going grocery shopping, which only ends with us looking at each other before shivering at the thought that one day that could be our future child.

The thought of having children it’s not completely shut down; you and Jungkook just feel like you guys will like to wait just a bit more before having a kid. Ji-woo and Bam were enough for you both.

You both sway to the song playing from the living room TV, coming from your ‘j🖤’ playlist.

"Did you ask your mom about the turkey?" You ask finally finishing smashing the potatoes, pushing the bowl to the center of the white counter where other dishes you made yesterday are gathered.

"Hm, texted her, and she said she was on her way," he murmurs from the crown of your head before finally letting go of you. "I have some to give you be right back," Jungkook makes his way to the garage door where both of your guys' cars are. As you wipe down the countertops and table, the door opens, making you look up, finding Jungkook holding the biggest flower bouquet you have ever seen.

A gasp leaves your mouth as you stare at the beautiful bright red roses. "Oh my god, baby, what?" Your lips pout as he kisses them and hands you the bouquet. "Fuck, this is heavy," you hold the flowers with both hands, the bouquet covering your entire face, making Jungkook chuckle. "Baby, I can’t even hug you to say thank you," you whine, feeling your eyes slightly water. You had always been so sensitive when it came to gestures Jungkook has done for you. That one time he took it upon himself to learn Spanish to be able to ask your parents in their native language for your hand in marriage, or the one time he took you to Paris on your one-year anniversary because you told him you always wished of going but never was able to due to your parents' financial issues.

"Baby, don’t cry," Jungkook quickly takes the flowers from your grip and puts them on the counter before cupping your face and blowing on your face, making you burst out laughing. Jungkook smiles while kissing your face.

"I just love you so much," you whisper all while he finishes kissing your closed eyes. "I love you so much more," Jungkook replies back before pulling you into a hug; you immediately melt into his warmth.

"I’m so seriously so in love with you," you say against his chest while he kisses the top of your head soothing you.

"And I'm in love with you," Jungkook says muffled against your hair; you stay there for a minute just feeling each other’s warmth and comfort while "Sweet Nothings" by Taylor Swift plays in the background.

"We’re so fucking corny, I swear," you joke, making both of you crack up until both your stomachs hurt.

"You had to ruin the moment huh?" He smirks at you before leaning down to leave a big fat kiss on your lips.

"I actually have one more thing, and I need you to close your eyes," Jungkook bites on his lip, his dimples showing. "Oh my god, are you serious? You just gave me around a hundred flowers, and there’s more?" Your mouth hangs open, earning another small laugh from Jungkook.

"Okay, no, for real though, close your eyes; I’ll be right back." Jungkook disappears again through the garage door. Not knowing what to expect, you close your eyes.

Funny how the butterflies and cartwheels your tummy still does even after all these years has you feeling so happy and thankful for the person you get to spend your whole life with.

The garage door opens, which makes you giddy like a teenage girl waiting for her crush to tell them they like them.

"Okay, open, baby." You open your eyes, your mouth drops open. "You’re fucking kidding, Jungkook."

You stare at the small white fluffy kitty with grey spots, that is laying comfortably in Jungkook’s arms. Your hands make their way to your mouth to conceal the small scream you want to let out. You had been begging Jungkook to let you get a cat for almost three months now.

Jungkook’s cheeks hurt from how hard he is smiling, looking down at you and how you softly caress it.

"What’s its name?" You look up at Jungkook, who is already looking at you with galaxies in his eyes. "You choose, baby, it’s yours." Jungkook places the small kitten into your arms. “Oh my fuck, it’s mine,” you squeal as the kitten looks up at you, making you melt even more.

“No mames” (you gotta be shitting me), you say in your native language, making Jungkook smile wider as he sees you struggle to find a name.

“It’s a boy, if that helps.” Jungkook leans against the counter, watching your every move, his heart swelling. “And if we named it ‘Bubbles’?” Your head snaps to Jungkook’s, waiting for his reaction to the name.

“I love that,” he scrunches his nose before nodding up and down. “Oh my god, I’m a mother,” you pick up Bubbles into the air, softly spinning around.

“Excuse you! You've been a mother, what about Bam!” Jungkook dramatically puts his hand on his heart, acting out like he just took a hit to the chest. “Stop! I love Bammy!” You defend yourself.

You make your way to your husband, kissing his lips over and over again, causing him to smile into your mouth. “Thank you so much, baby.” You thank him for the twelfth time before the doorbell to the entrance door rings. “Coming!” Jungkook yells, hoping whoever is outside heard.

…

As both of your families gather at the dining table, where we had to pull some chairs from outside so all eleven of us can eat around the table.

“Okay, so who’s going to start with what they are thankful for?” your sister says as her husband pokes her side, “I say you go first since you wanna share so bad,” your brother-in-law tells her, making everyone laugh.

Your sister scoffs before raising her wine glass to the air, then giving us a look to do the same, causing Jungkook’s mom to let out a small snort. “I’m thankful for all of you guys; you seriously make my days better by just opening the family group chat,” she jokes. “And I’m super thankful for everything I have accomplished this year, cheers!”

“Cheers!” Everyone clinks their glasses in the air, beside Ji-woo, who has her chubby fingers in her mouth, giggling along with whatever we’re saying.

The table goes around saying what they’re thankful for before stopping at Jungkook, his hand on your thigh squeezes before he starts.

“Okay, your turn, my love,” Jungkook’s mom says to Jungkook, who smiles at his mom. “Corny trigger warning, please!” Jung-hyun, Jungkook’s brother, jokes, which gets him a swat from his wife. “What the-“ Jung-hyun rubs the back of his head, staring agape at his wife. The table bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, well, I wanted to start with thanking everybody for coming,” Jungkook starts off, making everyone say a small ‘you’re welcome’. “I’m super thankful for my family; I truly don’t know how I could’ve possibly turned out without you guys,” he continues. “I’m grateful for y/n’s family, my second family; thank you for welcoming me into your life, and god suegra, thank you for birthing y/n,” Jungkook rambles off, causing the biggest laugh to come out of everyone.

“And I’m so grateful for my wife,” his eyes find their way to yours, making you melt into your seat like putty; a bunch of collective ‘oohs’ come out of everyone’s mouth.

“I truly love you with everything in me, and I’m so grateful for you. Thank you for making me the happiest man ever since I met you. You’re literally the best thing that has ever been mine.” Jungkook finishes with a huge smile on his face. Your lip quivers, and your hands make their way to your eyes again, hoping the tears you’re holding in don’t come pouring. Everyone around the table claps and is in awe of you both.

“What’s with you making me cry today?” your hands flap in front of your face, like if that could help the tears blurring your vision.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Jungkook wipes the tears that fall down your eyes. “I love you so much I can’t-“ Jungkook shushes you with a small kiss and softly puts your loose hair strands behind your ear.

“Okay, enough lovey-dovey shit. I’m trying to eat!” Jung-hyun says, making everyone laugh as everyone starts digging into the food they put on their plates not so long ago.

Jungkook kisses the corner of your mouth before his fingers move to the gold ‘J’ necklace he got you years ago. Jungkook smiles to himself as his thumb moves across the letter. You pull him from his sweater until his ear is at the same level as your mouth before whispering.

“I love you, now eat.” Jungkook chuckles under his breath at your words before whispering back. “Yes, ma’am.” The hugest smile stays on everyone’s face the whole night.

A/n: hi omg this is my first ever fanfic I have posted, sorry if there’s some errors hope you enjoyed.🤍 (all of this is just fictional)

[sai-int]

hear me out, in the rdr2 universe right… imagine it’s close to sunset and you’re making your way back home after maybe a hunting trip or just going to another town for bartering/selling some goods.

you’re in the outskirts of a slightly wooded area where you hear soft singing, a slightly deeper or raspier yet not too bad of a singing voice. getting closer, it’s arthur morgan with his back turned, setting up camp and singing to himself to stay occupied as he was alone with his horse.

maybe he doesn’t hear you but his horse alerts him or you step on a branch and you call out to him to let him know “hey, someone is behind you but i’m friendly”

obviously you’d both be on guard, both don’t know if either would attack but you start to talk to one another, trade stories by the campfire as the sun continues to set, casting a gorgeous orange and pink hue over the two of you

(idk just an idea i’m not an author)

UNDER THE GUN | arthur morgan

in which you harbor a wanted man that's undeniably sexy.

this had a mind of its own, so it's not exactly what you wanted, but i hope you still like it!

cw: MDNI, 18+, arthur morgan x f!reader, lots of porn, lots of plot, smut, unprotected piv, oral (f!recieving), size kink if you squint, creampie LONGER READ

The ground beneath your boots crackles, the dry twigs and leaves giving way with a sound that seems too loud for the stillness around you. Each step sinks deeper into the thick carpet of earth and rotted flora, the weight of your pack pulling at your shoulders as you push forward. The air bites at your cheeks, a cool and sharp reminder of the early autumn chill that clings to the woods. It’s the kind of cold that seeps in unnoticed, the kind that finds its way under your coat and lingers in your bones.

The scent of damp earth, moss, and rotting leaves fills your nose, familiar and homely. It’s a smell you’ve come to know intimately since you left Valentine years ago, set on ‘living off the land’ or whatever you used to rave about in your teen years. There’s something heavier in these familiar wood, like the forest is both alive and ancient, as though it remembers things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. 

You’d been out hunting since dawn, and now, with the last rays of the dying sun slanting low through the trees, your haul weighed heavy at your belt. Two rabbits, freshly killed, their lifeless bodies swinging with each step, and a plump turkey wrapped up in your pack. The promise of a fire, a meal, and the solitude the woods offered made your pace steady but weary. Every muscle in your legs screamed for rest, but the thought of home—the small camp nestled just over the next ridge—kept you moving.

But as you crest the rise, the air in your lungs turns frigid, freezing your breath as it escapes you, your heart skipping a beat.

Thin smoke curled lazily into the sky, trailing upward in the fading afternoon light. It wasn’t the gentle wisp of a dying fire—it was too steady, too persistent to be that. Your fire, the one you’d used for coffee in the morning hours, had been snuffed out. You made sure of it. Right? Yeah. You’d done it. A cold sweat prickled at the back of your neck. The sound of crackling flames reached your ears, sharp and familiar, like a grim confirmation: someone was here. In your camp. And they weren’t supposed to be.

Every instinct you’ve honed over years in the woods kicks into high gear. Your breath catches in your throat, sharp and shallow. You drop to a crouch, sinking into the cover of the trees. Your hands automatically find the rifle slung across your shoulder. Cold wood against your palms, fingers tightening around the stock and barrel like a lifeline.

You’re fluid, practiced, slipping through the underbrush, heading down the small hill. Each step is calculated to avoid the snap of a twig or the rustling of leaves as best you can. The camp’s just a few yards ahead, your senses sharp and alert as your eyes lock on the man sitting by your fire. He doesn’t notice you. His back is turned, broad, solid, and tense, hunched in a way that suggests the weight of the world presses down on him all at once.

The faint glow revealed a rugged silhouette, a weathered, black hat pulled low over his head, a sleek black vest and matching pants, and—most unsettling—a set of silver pistols resting at either of his hips.

You stalk closer to him like a predator as he stretches his hands closer to the fire. Your rifle follows every twitch of his movements, trained at the back of his head. Your eyes flick between his hands and his pistols. If he made a wrong move, you’d end him right there.

Your pulse hammers in your ears, a drumbeat in time with the crackling flames. You halt just behind him, rifle trained, your breath steady and controlled.

“Don’t move,” you hiss, nudging the barrel against his head.

He freezes, every muscle in his body locking up. His hands lift slowly, palms raised in a gesture of surrender. His voice came low, rough like gravel scraped underfoot. “Easy now,” he drawled. “Ain’t lookin’ for trouble.”

“Well you’ve found it, Cowboy,” you snap back, nudging the barrel harder against his hat, a reiteration of your threat. You could smell the smoke from the fire, feel the heat on your face. “Who the hell are you, ‘n what are you doing at my camp?”

He turns his head just enough to catch you in his peripheral, but he doesn’t fully face you. His side profile is illuminated by the firelight, the sharp slope of his nose and the weight of his eyes etched in shadow. His chestnut hair, slightly overgrown, curls into a subtle mullet at the back, with loose strands falling across his eyes. A rare touch of neatly trimmed stubble outlines his jaw—surprisingly well-groomed despite his otherwise rugged appearance. 

He hums a low, deliberate sound, like he’s in no rush, as if he could keep this up all day. Maybe he does—lurking around, picking off unsuspecting camps. "Name’s Arthur," he drawls slowly, the words slipping out with an ease that juxtaposes the tension in the air. "Arthur Morgan. Needed a place to lay relax for a spell, miss. Didn’t think anyone’d mind-"

“Well, I do mind,” you grit your teeth, grip tightening on the rifle’s under-barrel, your finger lowering to hover over the trigger. “You’ve got ten seconds to convince me not to blow your fuckin’ head off.”

Arthur’s lips quirk upward, the ghost of a smile barely visible under the shadow of his hat. “Reckon you’re a good shot, but you’d be wastin’ good ammo.” His voice was steady, calm, and there was a strange ease in the way he spoke. “I don’t mean no harm, girl. Just needed some warmth and a chance to catch my breath.”

“Nine.”

He let out a sigh, the first sign of frustration breaking through. “Look… I’m just damn tired, alright? Needed a minute. Ain’t lookin’ to ruffle your… lady feathers.”

Your eyes narrow, scanning his body for any sign of threat. It was as if he wasn’t afraid of the rifle, or of dying. Something tells you he’s dealt with worse than guns in his face. “Lucky for you, I’m not trigger-happy,” you muttered, lowering the rifle just a hair, but still keeping it ready. “I’ll give you half of supper, Morgan. Then you’re gone.”

“Fair enough,” he exhales as he drops his hands, “Appreciate your generosity, mi-”

“Generosity’s got nothing to do with it,” you interrupt, putting the barrel down and rounding to his front, taking in his features in their entirety. “I just don’t feel like dragging your corpse outta here.”

Arthur chuckles, the sound rough and deep, like the rumble of distant thunder. It sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. “Fair point. Mind if I ask who I’m thankin’ for not blowin’ my head to bits?”

You hesitate, your gut twisting. You’d never been one to trust easily, but something about him, in the way he held himself, the rough edges to his voice—made you reconsider. Maybe it was the familiarity in his eyes, the quiet respect in his tone. Or maybe it was just the solitude of the forest making you soften when you shouldn’t. 

You give him your name as you toss your pack aside the small tent. You turn and sit a safe distance from him, but close enough to the fire to feel the heat on your skin, the crackling flames casting long shadows between you. You set your rifle down beside you, fingers lingering on the stock, just in case. "Just don't make me regret lettin' you stay," you mutter low and sharp.

Arthur nods, his posture relaxed as he shifts back against the log. "Fair enough," he says, his voice steady. He shoves his hands into his pockets and pulls out a loose cigarette, tapping it lightly against his thumb before holding it to the flame. The tip catches, glowing bright as he brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply before exhaling a cloud of smoke that drifts lazily into the night air. “I’ll be outta your hair as soon as it’s safe.”

You quirk your brow. As soon as it’s safe? You shake your head. Don’t get involved. You turn your attention to the rabbits on your belt. You untether them, fingers working quickly, skinning them with precision. Your mind keeps wandering back to Arthur. The way he sits by the fire, his broad frame casting such a large shadow behind him, the way the heat of the fire seemed to reflect in his eyes. There was something buried deep in him and you couldn’t help but wonder what it was.

You make quick work of the rabbits and you prepare a stew to brew over the fire. The sounds of the crackling flames and the rhythmic chopping of meat fill the silence between you. Arthur’s eyes never leave you. He thinks you don’t notice, but you don't need to, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. It makes you breathe a little harder, tension building in your chest, your hands shaking ever so slightly as you put the ingredients in and set the pot over the fire. You can’t lie to yourself—it's been a long time since you’ve been this close to a man. And if Arthur Morgan was anything, he was undeniably… sexy.

You sink back against the log, eyes briefly flickering to Arthur, accidentally meeting his gaze before looking elsewhere. Arthur shifts almost awkwardly, clearing his throat. “So… what’re you doin’ out here all alone?” His voice is low, but there’s a genuine curiosity in his tone.

You glance up briefly, giving him a sharp sidelong look. “You really makin’ small talk?”

He shrugs, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. “Figured I’d get to know the person I’m campin’ with. Ain’t every day one finds a woman like yourself this far from town.”

You cock an eyebrow. “‘Like myself’?”

He hesitates for a second, then exhales a slow breath, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh, you know...” He clears his throat, voice dropping a touch lower. “Pretty.”

You narrow your eyes as you study him. “You butterin’ me up for somethin’?”

Arthur lets out a smooth chuckle at that, his shoulders giving a brief, easy bounce. “I’m just an honest man.”

You shake your head, a smile cracking through the tough front you’d been holding up. On your haunches, you move over to stir the stew, your movements quick but steady, before plopping back down—closer to Arthur—and shifting the rifle out of the way. “Guess I like my peace and quiet. Ain’t much else to it.”

Arthur scooches toward you in return, an arms length away as his elbows rest on his knees. “Yeah? You don’t strike me as the type to just sit around, waitin’ for something to happen.” He pauses, looking you over with an easy sort of scrutiny. “You huntin’ for sport, or you just survivin’ out here?”

You flick him a quick glance, trying to ignore the heat building in your chest. “Bit of both, I guess. Gotta eat somehow.”

“Fair enough,” he says, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Reckon you know what you’re doin’.”

You don’t answer immediately, gazing into the dancing flames and letting the silence stretch out between you. When you finally speak, it’s softer, but still guarded. “You always ask so many questions?”

Arthur chuckles like he’s genuinely amused. “Only right to get to know the pretty woman cookin’ me supper.”

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch with a reluctant smile.You don’t respond right away, You can feel his gaze on you again, though—studying your features.

Finally, you break the silence, changing the subject to ease the burn in your cheeks. “Well if you’re way out here, I reckon you’re not the type to stay in one place too long, huh?”

Arthur’s eyes flicker with something unspoken, but he doesn’t shy away from the question. “Not usually,” he says slowly. “But sometimes, a man gets tired of movin’. Need a break now and again.” His voice softens slightly, like he’s letting something slip past his usual guarded tone.

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “And what’s your idea of a ‘break’?”

He grins, that lazy smile creeping back onto his face. “A warm fire, a decent meal… Pretty woman by my side, if I’m lucky.” His eyes linger on you a moment longer than necessary, before he looks away, tossing his cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath his boot. “Could do worse than this, sweetheart.”

You don't say anything for a moment, caught between the stillness of the night and the tension between you and him. Finally, you give him a small nod, almost imperceptible. "Yeah. Could do worse."

You keep your focus on the stew, but you can sense him edging closer again, his knee almost brushing against yours. “You know, for someone who says she likes peace and quiet, you sure don’t mind me stickin’ around.”

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe I’m just likin’ the company.” You let the words hang in the air, just long enough to make him wonder if you mean it or not.

Arthur’s grin widens, and he leans in just a bit, “Yeah? And what exactly about ‘your company’ do you like?”

You turn your head to face him directly, the fire casting a warm, golden glow on his skin. Your gaze sharpens as you look him over. “Could be his way with words.”

He chuckles a low, gravelly sound that makes your stomach flip. “That all, girl?”

You hold his gaze, letting the silence stretch. It reeks of ‘What If’s’. “Could be the way he’s lookin’ at me right now.”

His eyes flicker to your lips, then back up to your eyes. He doesn’t move for a second, just watches you, like he’s weighing something. He seems to come to a conclusion when leans in a bit more, tilting his hat further up to avoid hitting your forehead. “That so?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your cheek.

You crane your neck to him,, bringing your face a hair’s breadth closer to his. “Could be,” you reply, your voice almost a whisper.

For a moment, it feels like everything else—the fire, the stew, the night itself, just fades away. “You know,” he rasps, “I’m startin’ to think you want me to stick around a little longer than you planned.”

You can’t help the chuckle that bubbles up, but it’s light, teasing. “You might just want to, Mr. Morgan.”

His smile never wavers. “Oh, I’m wantin’ a whole lot of things right now, darlin’.” His eyes flicker down to your lips again, then back to your eyes. “A whole lot.”

You lean in, your lips just barely touching his, when a distant sound echoes through the forest. The crunch of twigs snapping under the foot of someone careless. A few horses. The low murmur of voices, drawing closer with every second.

Arthur stiffens, his eyes darting toward the inky forest. His expression hardens, the playful grin slipping away as quickly as it had appeared. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. “Don’t like the sound of that.”

The crunch of leaves grew louder, their footsteps unmistakable. Anyone out at this hour spelled trouble. You knew it, and so did he.

You’re on your feet too, instincts kicking in. Arthur looks back at you, brows furrowing in discontent. “I ain’t got time for this,” he says, voice tight. “I need somewhere to hide.”

You froze for a moment, doubt creeping in. Sure, he might’ve done some questionable things—Lord above knows you had—but enough to be on the run? What could he have done to need hiding?

Before he can take another step, you’re already moving. Without thinking, you shove him toward your tent. “In there. Now.”

Arthur hesitates, clearly flustered. “What—? You can’t—”

“Go!” you snap, the urgency in your voice cutting through the air. “Get in the fuckin’ tent, Arthur.”

He shoots you a look, but you don’t have to tell him twice. He nods sharply, ducking into the ten, the flap shutting behind him. You turn and pick up your rifle, holding it tight in your grasp.

A man, a Bounty Hunter emerges from the trees with his horse in tow, his frame illuminated by the light of the fire. He stops just on the edge of your camp, taking in the scene with an appraising look. His partner follows, a little slower, scanning the area more thoroughly. Their presence sends a prickle of unease crawling up your spine, but you don’t let it show.

"Evening, miss," the first one says, almost casual but with an air of inquisition behind it. He sizes you up quickly, eyes flicking over you before scanning the area of the camp. "You alone out here?"

You keep your expression neutral, hands relaxed around the rifle but ready to move if you need to. Your voice comes out calm and steady. "Just me. Goin’ about my business."

The second hunter doesn’t waste any time, moving toward the fire and eyeing the camp as his hands tighten around his horses tack. His eyes lock onto your rifle before drifting back to you. "We’re lookin’ for someone," he says, his tone more serious now. “A man by the name of Arthur Morgan. Seen him around?”

The name hits you like a blow to the chest, but you don’t let a flicker of recognition show. Instead, you furrow your brow slightly, feigning confusion. "Arthur… Morgan?" you repeat as if saying the words for the first time, giving a slow shake of your head. "Can’t say I have."

The first hunter takes a step forward, clearly unconvinced. "He’s been causin’ trouble ’round here. Stealin’ horses, robbin’ folk. We’re checkin’ all the camps." He looks over your fire, the tent, and the surrounding woods with a calculating eye, as if trying to catch any sign of someone hiding.

An ‘honest man’ huh? You keep your posture relaxed, playing the part. "Like I said, it’s just me out here. Ain’t seen anyone else."

The second hunter doesn’t seem to buy it. He takes a few steps closer, eyes narrowing as he sweeps the camp again, this time lingering on your rifle and the faint trail of smoke in the air. He cocks his head slightly, studying you with suspicion. "You sure about that, miss?" His voice carries a bite of challenge now, his stance a little more defensive.

You meet his gaze evenly, giving him a small, almost dismissive shrug. "Reckon I’d know if someone was here. Not the first time I’ve been alone in the woods."

The first hunter looks back at his partner, exchanging a tense glance before he nods and steps back. "Well, if you’re sure," he says, though his voice still holds a note of doubt. "We’ll take your word for it, miss."

The second hunter hesitates for just a beat longer, his eyes narrowing once more as he looks over the camp. He seems to weigh his options, but after a long moment, he finally sighs and glances back at his partner. "We’ll be back if we need more help findin’ him."

You give a small nod, never breaking eye contact, your voice casual as you reply, "Right then. You take care now."

The two men exchange a final, uncertain look before turning on their heels and heading back toward the tall pines. The crackling of the fire and the chirping of the crickets fill the silence as you stand still, listening intently. Your eyes dart, scanning the trees where the hunters walked off. You wait, every second stretched out, until you finally hear the sound of horses hooves thumping against the earth. Away.

You stay frozen, rifle still in hand, until the sound of their horses completely fades into the distance.

"Come out," you call, voice barely above a whisper but carrying through the quiet night.

The flap of the tent shifts before you hear his boots brushing against the dirt. He steps out slowly, a shadow in the firelight, his broad frame emerging from the darkness. He looks at you with that same easy expression, but you don’t miss the flicker of something beneath the surface—something guarded, maybe just as wary as you.

He stands before you, hands at his sides, tense as if he’s waiting to get socked in the face. 

You don’t lower your rifle this time. Instead, you stand tall, staring him down with your eyes narrowed.

"Thought you were an ‘honest man’, Arthur," you say it low, each word slow and deliberate, carrying the weight of your suspicion. "Left some things out, did you? Robbin' and stealin’. The fuckin’ bounty you’re wearin’ in my camp? Probably killin’, too, right?."

Arthur’s expression falters for only a moment, but it’s enough for you to see the brief flicker of discomfort in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

"I should’ve known better," you continue, your grip tightening on the rifle, still not lowering it. "You didn’t just need a place to rest. You were hiding. Just like the rest of ‘em."

He looks at you for a long moment, the silence between you thick and taut. Then, slowly, he sighs, a long, drawn-out exhale that seems to carry the weight of his frustration.

"Yeah, alright," he mutters, taking his hat in his hands and running a hand through his hair. He steps closer, but keeps a respectful distance. "I didn’t tell you everything. Ain’t proud of it. But you don’t know what it’s like—always looking over your shoulder, never knowing who’s gonna come after you next."

You don’t answer right away, watching him carefully. The firelight flickers over his face, and for a moment, he looks tired—worn down, like the world’s too heavy on his shoulders. But there’s still something about the way he stands there, trying to explain himself, that softens the edge in your chest, even if you don’t want it to.

He takes another step closer, his voice low but calm, like he’s trying to placate you, trying to make you understand.

"Those men?" He gestures vaguely toward the trees. "They ain’t the first to come lookin’ for me. They won’t be the last, either…I ain’t gonna put you in danger. I promise, Ain’t gonna let you get hurt. I just needed a place to lay low for a bit. Ain't nobody else around for miles."

You keep your eyes locked on him, but the harshness in your grip loosens just a bit. The tension in your body starts to fade, even as your mind races with the implications of what he’s saying.

"Yeah?" you say, your voice softer now, though there’s still a bite to it. "That’s it? You’re just ‘tired’, and ‘needed a rest’? That is what you said, right?"

Arthur’s gaze softens, and he nods, his lips curling into that half-smile of his. "Pretty much. Wouldn't lie about that."

You breathe out slowly, your rifle now hanging loosely in your hands. The hard edge in you has started to dull. You don’t feel as guarded as you did. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, like he values your opinion of him. Maybe it's just the firelight, the warmth, or the way his eyes bore into yours, silently pleading with you.

You stare at him for another beat, then let out a small huff. "Fine," you relent, your voice carrying the weight of reluctance. "Don’t make me regret it. I’ll put a hole through that stupid hat you got."

Arthur’s smile widens just slightly, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

You set the rifle aside and move to the fire, the heat from the embers warm against your skin as you reach for the pot. The stew is well past ready, the rich scent of rabbit, herbs, and vegetables swirling in the air. You take it off the fire carefully, the sizzling sounds dying down as you settle it on the edge of the stones.

Arthur doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you. His eyes linger for a moment before he shifts slightly, as though he’s unsure of what to do next, where you both stand. The tension between you is still palpable, the silence bringing you back what happened mere minutes ago. You both know what almost happened—what could have happened—and the weight of it hangs in the air like the forest is beckoning it to happen again.

You pour the stew into two tin bowls, your hands steady as you bring them over to where Arthur’s moved to sit by the fire. You settle down next to him, your shoulders brushing lightly, the silence between you heavy.

The crackle of the fire fills the space where words should have been. At first, the quiet is just uncomfortable—a reminder of the spat you just had. Arthur shifts a little, taking a bite of the stew and swallowing before speaking again, his voice softer now. "You know… that’s the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time." He looks over at you, his blue-hazel eyes glowing in the firelight. "Protectin’ me like that... You didn’t have to do that."

You glance up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It’s not what you expected, but you mull over it before responding.

"Guess I don’t like people pushin' folks around," you say with a small, almost teasing shrug, trying to brush off the seriousness of the moment, staring down at the stew. "But I also don’t take kindly to anyone gettin' hurt if I can help it."

Arthur smiles, his gaze steady as he watches you. "I’m grateful then," he says, his voice low. “Ain’t never expect anyone to do all that for little ol’ me."

A silence settles over you again, but this time, it feels different. The words hang between you like a thread waiting to be pulled, and Arthur shifts closer, just enough that you feel the heat of his body next to yours. His tone changes.

"For the record," he says, leaning a little closer. "That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen."

Your brow furrows, and you glance over at him, a slight confusion pulling at your features. "What?" you ask, not sure you heard him right.

He doesn’t miss the perplexed look in your eyes, and he chuckles, that same mischievous grin creeping back. "You don’t know what I’m talkin’ about?" he asks, eyes gleaming with that playful edge.

You shake your head, your heart beating a little faster.

Arthur leans back, but his gaze never leaves you, steady and intense. "You shoved me right in that tent, all bossy-like, told me to stay put while you handled those hunters. That... that was somethin��� else, girl."

A flush creeps up your neck, the heat of it settling in your cheeks. "That’s not—" you start, but Arthur’s grin widens, and the way he’s looking at you—like he’s memorizing every detail of your reaction—makes your words falter.

"It is," his voice almost a whisper, "ain’t even hesitate. Took charge like it was nothing." He gives a low whistle. "Got me all fired up."

He leans closer, close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips again and its more than welcome. He hovers there, tantalizing and teasing. Arthur’s voice is low, a soft growl under his breath, as he looks at you with something deeper in his gaze. "Reckon we’ve got some unfinished business, ain't that right, doll?"

You take a shaky breath, trying to regain some sense of control, but his words leave you in a haze. Your mind races as your heart beats louder, and for a moment, you think you might just say fuck it and close the gap just to feel his lips against yours.

But you hold back, just barely.

"Right," you say softly, voice almost a whisper.

It’s almost too much, the way he’s watching you, daring you to make the move. The temptation is unbearable. Your hand moves instinctively, pulling his head to yours and closing the gap, feeling his lips completely against yours for the first time.

It's gentle at first, a tender dance like neither of you are sure how much to push or how much to pull. It doesn’t last long. Arthur deepens the kiss, his hand finding the scruff of your neck to pull you closer, his other hand palms your waist as he guides you to straddle his lap, pulled tight so your chest is flush with his.

His hands roam your back and paw at your hips with hunger. The kiss deepens, messy and impatient, as his teeth graze your lower lip, pulling it into his mouth and nipping it before he soothes it with the heat of his tongue. The taste of him is sharp—tobacco, the faint tang of whiskey—and underneath it all, you. Every press of his lips against yours leaves you wanting more, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

Your hands explore him, trailing up to tug at the collar of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him, to have him welded to you. His body is firm beneath your touch, sturdy and strong with a plush layer of fat and hair to keep him warm, the feel of it against your skin sends hot bursts of heat down your spine, where they settle in your cunt and drool out of you.

Arthur’s hands leave your back, moving to the front of you, his fingers brushing against the curve of your ribs before they slide lower, gripping your waist with possession. He pulls away from the kiss for a moment, his lips slick and swollen, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his breaths.

You take this as an opportunity, hands unbuttoning his vest and shoving his shirt up over his head. When he’s bare, your fingers brush against the hard planes of his chest as you pull him closer again. You kiss him with everything you have, a silent agreement that this is what you both want, what you both need.

His canines nip your lips, pulling a sharp mewl from you. He takes full advantage, slipping his tongue past your parted lips, tasting you with a hungry, unrestrained fervor, like an untamed mutt. He knows you won’t stop him—knows you’ll let him take as much as he wants.

You both move with a desperate kind of need. Arthur savors everything, though—his touch is firm, but there's a certain reverence in the way he undresses you, like he's trying to drink up every moment, every inch of skin he uncovers. He peels off your top, letting your tits bounce free, he’s near hypnotized, immediately palming them with a groan. He takes your right nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue as his hand pinches the other. You arch your back into him, whining at the way his ministrations get you breathless and all red in the face. A low groan rumbles from him at the sound you make, his hips rolling up to meet yours, grinding his clothed cock against your cunt with need.

He pulls away, eyes flickering with something dark and hungry, but there's a tenderness there too, as if he wants this to be as much about you as it is about him. You see the way his chest rises and falls, his breath heavy as he fights the urge to pull you even closer, even faster. But he doesn’t. Instead, he flips you under him, carefully lowering you onto a discarded coat, the rough fabric cushioning your body as he hovers above you, his eyes searching yours.

"Comfortable?" he asks, his voice hushed and serious, even as his hands trail down your body, squeezing the plush of your waist and hips, near branding your skin in their wake.

You nod, your throat tight with anticipation. "Yeah," you breathe, your voice rough. "Just don't stop."

Arthur gives you that grin again, that dangerous, charming smile that you know will be the death of you. "I ain't goin' anywhere."

He leans down, his lips brushing against your neck, slow at first, like he's giving you time to adjust, to breathe, but it's not long before he’s kissing you again—harder this time, more urgent. You feel the weight of him on top of you, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his skin burning through you. His hands explore, tracing the lines of your body, memorizing every curve like he's afraid to forget.

The coat beneath you feels rough compared to his touch, but it’s grounding, real. As he hovers over you, his hands deftly undo your pants zipper and tug them down. You feel it—the overwhelming need to be consumed by him, in all measures of the word.

Arthur tosses your pants carelessly behind him, leaving you bare before him, your body illuminated by the flickering firelight, looking like something ethereal. You squirm, desperate for any hint of his touch. “Arthur, please…”

He groans, his hand palming his painfully hard cock through his pants, eyes drinking in every curve, every inch of you. “Tell me what you need, princess.”

“Fuck, touch me—anything, just... as long as it’s you,” you plead, your voice breathless with need, eyes blown wide.

“Atta girl,” he hums, a smirk tugging at his lips.

He presses his lips to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, sucking and biting hungrily, saliva trailing down your neck as he marks you with raw intensity. His mouth moves down, giving each tit special attention, his tongue flicking over your skin before dragging down your stomach. Every touch, every brush of his fingers, has you reeling, arching your back into him. 

His hands grip your thighs, spreading them with primal sort of determination as he presses a searing kiss right above your mons. His gaze locks with yours—dark, hungry—promise and danger flickering in his eyes as he finally settles between your legs, his breath heavy, the air thick with tension.

He dives in without hesitation, his lips instantly latching to your clit, licking and sucking with just enough pressure to make your eyes screw shut. You hear him slobbering all over you, making out with your cunt—his tongue laving over your folds like a home cooked meal. His tongue dips to your tight hole, greedily gulping down your juices, groaning at the taste of you. 

The sounds he makes are oh so primal, so sinful they could conjure a demon right then and there if he wasn’t so focused on the way your hole pulses with each flick of his tongue on your clit. You bite down on your lip, the pain sharp as you struggle to suppress the desperate cries building in your chest. Blood wells in the small cut, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back. But it's impossible. Your hands card through his hair, unsure if you should hold him close or force him back because—God—he’s just too good.

He reluctantly pulls his mouth away from your cunt, and the loss leaves a harsh cry on your lips. He had brought you so, so close to the edge. 

“Awe,” he shushes you gently, “none of that whinin’ now, I’ll take care of you.” His face is soaked, stubble glistening, his lips covered in your slick, catching the flicker of the firelight. He leans forward, tongue flicking out to lick them clean, savoring every trace of you.

He rises onto his haunches, unzipping his pants and pulling them down quickly, muscles rippling as he moves. Once free, he leans back over you, hovering just above, his gaze heavy with desire. He taps his index and ring fingers lightly against your lips, his eyes locking with yours, waiting expectantly.

“Open up,” he coos, his voice low and commanding. You part your lips, taking his fingers into your mouth, your tongue swirling around them in slow, deliberate motions. Your eyes meet his, and a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. “Fuck, there you go… Sweet thing… so fuckin’ gorgeous… Gonna look so nice sittin’ on my cock, ain’t that right, girl?”

You nod fervently, releasing his fingers with a soft pop. “Need it, please, Arthur—” Your words falter into a desperate plea. “Shh… Shh…” He murmurs, his hand brushing your cheek, his voice low and soothing. “I’m gonna give you what you need, baby doll. Gotta work you open before you take me.” 

He keeps his gaze locked with yours as he brings his fingers back to your searing cunt, all wet and messy with his spit and your slick. Your hands find his broad shoulders, holding onto him as he teases your hole with the pads of his fingers. He bites back a laugh when you clench around nothing. He gathers some slick, moving up to draw a few quick circles to your clit before snaking back down and pressing his thick digits into your cunt.

The stretch is immediate, overwhelming, so much bigger than your own. Your eyes well from the relentless teasing, a mix of pleasure and ache burning in your belly. With a click of his tongue, he leans down to kiss a loose tear away, soft and tender, before giving experimental curls of his fingers. His gaze scans your face, waiting, searching for that sweet spot. After a certain thrust, your face contorts and you clench around him with a whimper, a smirk curls on his lips, and he continues, steady and deliciously curling his fingers inside you, stretching you out and hitting spots you never knew existed. 

You clench around him again, the familiar hot burn of raw pleasure pooling in your core, pleading with him to let you cum. You've been on the edge for so long, your legs tremor uncontrollably, and he can feel it, knows just how close you are.

“Getting close? Makin’ you feel all warm inside? Gettin’ real wet down there, baby, you gonna cream my fingers, hmm?” He murmurs in your ear, his fingers curling at the same steady pace, but you’re desperate, you need more. The slow rhythm isn’t enough anymore—your body aches, craving that sweet release.

“N-no, wanna cum on your cock— Arthur— Please, fuck!” You wail unabashedly. He slows his movements before gently pulling his fingers out of you with a wet schlick that makes your ears tinge pink. “Easy, easy, girl,” he hums, patting your hair with his other hand, “that’s what you want? Want me to make you cum all over my cock, pretty girl? You want that?” He babbles in your ear all desperate, wanting nothing more than to hear you say it again, the words falling from your lips like a prayer. 

You nod vigorously, and a genuine smile spreads across his face. He finds you so endearing like this—sweet, eager, and willing. He settles back against the log, his hands moving to your waist, guiding you to sit atop his thighs. With a swift motion, he pulls his drawers down, and his cock genuinely makes you gasp. He’s incomprehensibly thick and decently long, thick, dark curls around the base and a deliciously ruddy tip, drooling with pre and begging for attention. 

He takes it in his hands, giving it a few lazy strokes before holding atop your belly. “See that, baby?” He drawls, tapping his cock against you, “Gonna fit so snug, so deep in your belly.” You look down, seeing how he’s perfectly lined up, length resting just below your navel. The thought of him inside you, all of him, has you trembling, your mouth watering at the anticipation.

You lift your hips hovering just above his length. His hands find your sides, guiding you and letting you move at your own pace. You sink down slowly and it's euphoric. 

You lift your hips, hovering just above his cock. His hands find your sides, guiding you gently but giving you the freedom to move at your own pace. Slowly, you sink down on him, and the sensation is euphoric, every inch of him stretches you, slowly remolding your pussy to fit him inch by agonizing inch.

Arthur doesn’t believe in God, but in this moment, he looks up at the sky, searching for something, any deity or saint to anchor him. If he spent another second watching the way his length disappears inside you, he knows he’d blow his load instantly. You’re just so tight around him, as if you’re trying to cut off circulation. 

Finally, he’s buried to the hilt. You can feel him in your fucking lungs, every part of you aware of him. Your body no longer feels like your own—it’s as if you've become one with him, his cock filling you completely, and everything else fades away. Each breath you take, each subtle movement beckons his cock to hit new spots so deep inside of you, your senses overwhelmed.

You’re both sweating, your bodies a tangled mess of movement, desperate and breathless. Your hands cling to his shoulders, and his grip on your waist and hips is firm, controlling. He mutters softly, almost incoherently, “There you go, girl…” The words send a shiver through you. You take his head in your hands, your eyes locking for a brief, intense moment before you kiss him with everything you have, your passion and need pouring into the kiss. He responds in kind, his movements slow at first, as he begins to thrust, the rhythm causing the kiss to falter. “Takin’ me so fuckin’ deep, darlin’, such a good girl,” You’re both panting into each other’s mouths. 

You’re already so fucked dumb, your mind a haze of pleasure. All you can do is meet his thrusts, your body moving in sync with his, bouncing with each sharp motion. Every movement sends a new shockwave through you, a mix of pleasure and pressure that has you near whining, your breath hitching—soft ah ah ah’s—as you struggle to keep up with the intensity.

All you can hear is the sound of his thighs meeting yours and the sound of your pussy making an absolute mess of him. He’s muttering, groaning incoherently into your skin. “Fuckin’ made for m— Fuck! So fuckin’ tight, baby, milkin’ my fuckin’ cock— My girl—” He cradles your head against his and thrusts up into you at a pace that’ll leave you sore tomorrow, your tight wet walls clamping around him, milking him for all he’s worth while he hammers your g-spot. Each roll of his hips rubs against your clit, the friction is delicious and you feel heat begin to simmer in your belly, your walls clenching tight around him. “A-arthur, I’m gonna… Gonna cum..” You mewl into his shoulder as you claw into his back, your voice hoarse.

“Fuck, cream my cock, sweet thing. Come on now, I got you, focus on me,” He huffs, keeping up his pace despite the fatigue in his hips. He can feel you pulsing around him already and it’s egging on his own orgasm alongside yours. He guides your eyes back to his, keeping you locked there. 

He can feel the tension building, his balls tightening with the urgent need to release, every thrust pushing him closer to the edge. His body trembles with the effort of holding back his orgasm so you could have yours first. You bounce in his lap, ragdolling from the strength of his thrusts.You crash your lips onto his, messy and urgent, as you swallow the wail threatening to escape. The coil inside you finally snaps, an intense rush of pleasure flooding your senses as you come undone, your body trembling uncontrollably against his as you cream his cock.

“That’s my girl— Fuck,” he starts but is cut off by his own orgasm washing over him, his balls empty and fill your cunt with his spend, pumping you full. He gave a few lazy thrusts while riding out the after-shocks, each thrust making your body twitch in overstimulation. 

You sit atop him, your legs trembling with exhaustion as both of your chests rise and fall in tandem, each breath heavy and ragged. His body stills beneath you, his cock softens inside you, but he doesn’t make any attempts to move.  He stays with you, fully embedded, the connection between you both lingering in a slow, steady pulse.

Arthur brushes your hair out of your face, his hand resting gently on your cheek. His eyes lock with yours, and for a moment, everything else fades. There's a quiet intensity between you, the kind that doesn’t need words but still feels so heavy. His thumb moves slowly across your skin, grounding you in the softness of his touch.

"You alright?" he asks, his voice low and steady, as if he’s reading the tension still lingering in the air between you. His gaze doesn’t waver, just searching your face like he’s trying to understand every little shift in you.

You nod slowly, feeling the warmth of his hand, the steady rhythm of his breath. "Yeah… just… give me a second."

He watches you carefully, but there’s a softness to his expression, a kind of understanding that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud. He leans in slightly, his forehead brushing against yours, close but not quite touching. "Take all the time you need, darlin’," he murmurs, his voice rough but comforting.

As you come to, you feel the lingering rush, the aftershocks of what just happened, and it’s almost overwhelming. But Arthur’s presence is steadying, his calm and quiet like an anchor. "I’m good," you say finally, though your voice feels a little breathless, like you’re still trying to catch up with yourself. You meet his eyes again, and this time, the intensity is different—softer, maybe even a little tender.

Arthur lets out a low, quiet chuckle. "You ain’t gonna be sayin’ that in the mornin’," His voice holds a hint of teasing, but there’s no judgment in it, only affection, a quiet warmth that makes you smile despite yourself.

"Probably," you admit, shifting slightly, still feeling a little shaky. " I doubt I’ll mind, though."

Arthur’s smile is small, but it holds more than words could say. He stays close, his hand still on your cheek, his thumb running in slow circles. "You don’t gotta worry about a damn thing, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice rough , like the realization of everything that just happened hasn’t quite settled in for him either.

You stay there in Arthur’s arms for what feels like forever, neither of you making any effort to move. The fire crackles softly, its warmth enveloping you both, casting flickering shadows in the night. You don’t know what’s in store for you and Arthur, but at this moment, none of that matters. He’s here, his hand gently cupping your cheek and arm is wrapped securely around your waist. Right now, that’s all you need.

[spacelazarwolf]

so this is a trashfire for many reasons.

lack of historical knowledge and complete lack of perspective

israel was not created by britain. israel declared independence from britain. israel was not "designed to funnel jewish people out of all other countries." israel is not "puppeted by america for the purposes of colonizing southwest asia" and the insinuation that israel's goal is to colonize the entirety of southwest asia is actually a documented antisemitic conspiracy theory.

"Even before the State of Israel came into existence, Arab leaders accused Zionists of seeking to rule most of the Middle East," a secret Jewish plot to establish a "Greater Israel" extending from the Nile to the Eurphrates and the Persian Gulf, and south deep into Saudi Arabia. Albeit "farfetched" and a "calumny," this notion has "become so routinized and accepted" that it "now serves as the conventional wisdom in all the Arabic-speaking countries and Iran." Pipes 1998, 49, 69. This is one of two maps in the collection alleged to provide evidence of the "Greater Israel" conspiracy. (The other is ID #2411, "Jewish Imperial Ambitions In Palestine and Neighbouring Countries," 1967.) This map, "Dream of Zionism," shows Zionism as a giant serpent, its back decorated with a pattern of triangles described as "Freemasons Eye, 'Symbol of Jewry.'" The snake's circular outline marks the "Proposed Boundary of 'Greater Israel,'" an area including all of Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, and the Sinai Peninsula; the Nile delta region of Egypt along the Suez Canal and northwest of Cairo; and virtually all of Iraq, including access to the Persian Gulf. It also includes a large portion of northwestern Saudi Arabia, a corridor well over 100 miles wide along the Red Sea, stretching south more than 450 miles from the Gulf of Aqaba to the Holy City of Medina. "Curiously," the conspiracy theorists "see Greater Israel including Medina but not Mecca; the oil fields of Kuwait but not those of Saudi Arabia; and more of Turkey than Iran." The State of Israel is identified as "Occupied Palestine." Pipes 62. This map first appeared in an English-language edition of the fraudulent "Protocols of the Elders of Zion" - the infamous blood libel against the Jewish people - published in Iran in 1985. Ibid. This version appears in a new edition, "Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion," attributed to "The Representatives of Zion, of the 33rd Degree" and published in Kuwait by the "Scientific Research House." The estimated publication date is 2018. The current version of the map varies only slightly from that of 1985 illustrated in Pipes: the words "Symbol of Jewry" have been added in script beneath the legend "Freemasons Eye," and a partially legible signature ("Mir"?) appears at the lower right.

also i'm not sure what the intention was with bringing up the rwandan genocide because rwanda was colonized by germany and belgium, not the british. unless you think literally everything bad that happens in the world is tied to britain... which just so happens to be another antisemitic conspiracy theory that originated in the ussr. all the while jews were being demonized in the uk for being "communist sympathizers." because jews are the symbol of everything you hate, all the problems in your life. that is how antisemitism functions.

2. tokenizing jews for your own benefit

"i had followed [jewish blogs] in an attempt to better understand jewish concerns ... and i've been unfollowing them one by one ... i was getting genuine perspectives on issues i knew very little about - and now, for those blogs in particular, it's impossible to separate what might be a genuine concern verses wht's being weaponised to justify a settler state"

this is an open admission that you are only able to take in jewish perspectives from jews you agree with. and considering the ignorance that's rampant in the rest of the post, my guess is that what you saw was jews who were scared and angry at the way people acted after october 7th and the way antisemitism is rising, but the non jews you follow were insistent that those sentiments could not coexist with palestinian liberation. additionally, the fact you are unable to separate genuine concern verses "what's being weaponised" is your own problem, not ours. the way jewish pain is being downplayed, mocked, ignored, and demonized, the way people have insisted that any mourning for the victims of october 7th or concern for the hostages must be propaganda is antisemitic. and you are actively contributing to that, particularly by saying that western powers arresting people during protests "has been a setup from the beginning" with the very clear insinuation that it is "zionists" who are to blame for the setup.

3. you are really fucking entitled

you are a british goy (not a "goyim" btw, goy is singular, goyim is plural). you literally admitted that you "don't know how to talk about this with the tat and care [you] should be as a [non jew]" and that "certainly there is a degree in arrogance for [you] to talk about judaism as an outsider." and yet you wrote this whole post full of antisemitic conspiracy theories and antisemitic biases while claiming you know how to protect jewish people and while claiming that zionism is "the biggest danger to jewish people right now."

let us be very fucking clear. the biggest danger to jewish people right now is antisemites and the actions they choose to take, and the consequences of those actions.

you say that "if you tell the general public, who are very susceptible to the broader news cycle, that judaism and zionism is the same thing, they very well will be motivated to do antisemitic things, because they believe they are fighting zionism."

this has already happened and has been happening for decades. framing jews as zionists and demonizing zionism as a jewish ideology is not new. it happened all across swana, even before israel declared independence, including during the farhud which was a pogrom that occurred as part of the holocaust in iraq where jews were executed, beaten, and tens of thousands had to flee from government-sponsored persecution specifically and explicitly targeted at jews under the guise of "antizionism." it also happened in the ussr.

the desire to completely separate judaism from zionism as a jewish ideology is not out of concern for jews. zionism is a jewish ideology founded on one possible solution to global antisemitism, as an attempt to keep jews safe from constant persecution, ethnic cleansing, and genocide. it's not a solution you have to agree with, but trying to completely divorce it from judaism only opens the door for the very people you claim to be concerned about who will use zionism as an excuse to attack jews, as they have been for decades.

i have said it before and i'll say it again. zionism is one of the jewish answers to the question "what do we do with the jews?" historically, the answers gentiles have come up with have been "subjugate them, ethnically cleanse them, slaughter them, genocide them." so when you respond to that question of "what do we do with the jews?" with "i don't really care, but not that! and actually your jewish answer is what's causing this in the first place so really it's your fault!" it's kind of fucking bonkers to expect most jews to respond in any positive way. if you expect to have a productive conversation with zionist jews or with jews as a whole, you must present your own answer to "what do we do with the jews?" and if you're thinking "well how the fuck am i supposed to figure out a plan to get antisemitism all over the world to go away? that’s going to take too long!" you almost understand the point. the eradication of antisemitism is a global effort, and one that won't be achieved in our lifetimes. so the least you can do in the meantime is educate yourself, interact with jews in good faith, listen to jewish perspectives even if you don't agree with them, and realize that you are still going to have only scratched the surface.

so yes, you're right. it was extremely arrogant of you to post this, and you are an example of how ignorance breeds antisemitism among the uneducated masses.

[aphroditeinthesea]

thanksgiving (2/3)

jason grace x fem!reader ⚡️

a/n this is my first ever smut and it really happened by accident

⚠️ let's just say the turkey's not the only thing getting stuffed on thanksgiving

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆��♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

A few hours had passed. Currently they sat together on their couch, her legs stretched over his while his hands were occupied by softly touching her knees, “what time is it?” She asked.

Jason checked his watch, “9:02, why?”

“Oh my gods,” she jumped off of the couch, “the parade.” She grabbed the remote, immediately turning on the TV. She switched the channel to find the screen now showing a large inflatable Hello Kitty.

“What on Earth is that?” The son of Jupiter asked.

She sat back next to him, snuggling into his arms. “That would be the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.”

“What does Hello Kitty have to do with Thanksgiving?”

She widely smiled and her lips lingered onto his jaw, “nothing, that's the beauty of it.”

He kissed the top of her head, “this parade is every year?”

She nodded, “since like the twenties I think.”

“Wow,” his attention shifted from the television and instead focused on the way his girlfriend’s eyes gleamed while watching the parade. He moved one of his hands to run through her hair.

She looked up at him, “hi.”

He leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips, his right hand tangling in her hair while his left squeezed her thigh. He pulled away to softly whisper against her mouth, “I love you,” his wet lips led their ways to her neck, “so much.” His lips touched her skin again, sending shivers down her spine.

“Baby,” she muttered, causing him to look up at her. The way his eyes bore into hers made her want to forget about dinner all together, “hm, nothing.”

“Sorry, you said you had to check on the turkey-”

“No, no,” she quickly interrupted, “the turkey’s fine. Don't worry about that.”

“Yeah?” He responded, his breath hot against her neck as he pressed his kisses even lower to her collarbone. She could have melted right there.

“Yeah.” She nodded. She sat to straddle his lap, “besides, I think I forgot to make any appetizers.”

His hands grabbed onto her hips, “what’ll we do about that then?”

She giggled, “I have no idea.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, lowering herself on him, “I think I might have saved something for you though.”

“Hm?” She moved her hips, causing him to let out a sigh, “I really hope you mean what I think you do and you're not about to bring out chips and dip.”

She laughed, throwing her head back, “nope.” She pulled off her top and threw it across the room with a smile on her face that only Jason Grace could put there.

“My gods,” he groaned, moving his head to place kisses all over her chest, thanking all of the gods that she decided not to wear a bra, “you're perfect.”

She sighed, moving her head to the side to give him more room, “you're more perfect.”

“Impossible,” he pulled her closer by her waist, “my love,” he muttered as he danced his mouth on her neck, “my love.” He glided his fingers down to the waistband of her pajama pants, sliding his hands in.

“Jase,” she tugged on his shirt, “off, please.”

He smiled and pulled back to rip off his shirt. At the sight of him, she lunged her lips forward to his. He grabbed one of her boobs with his hand while the other slid back into her pants. She gasped as he pinched down with his thumb against her nipple. He proceeded to slide his right hand from the back of her pajama pants to the front, letting them roam onto her now soaked panties.

He brushed over the cloth, eliciting a gasp from her, “please.”

“Please?”

“Jase,” she groaned, hiding her face in his neck.

He smirked and decided to not tease her anymore. He moved her panties to the side. He then gently, slowly rubbed the bud on her core. She moaned at the touch, biting down on his neck.

“Is this what you wanted?” he whispered directly into her ear.

“Yes,” she mumbled.

Two of his fingers continued to slowly rub her clit. Back and forth and back and forth. Finally after what felt like years, one of the fingers slid inside of her.

She groaned and her head was thrown back up, now making eye contact with the blue eyes that held her. He smiled at her while she was trying not to yelp. Her eyebrows creased as he added a second finger inside of her hole.

She held eye contact even as the long fingers curled right here they should. He leaned forward and kissed her open mouth, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Just like that?” He questioned, adding his thumb to rub her clitoris.

She grinded against hand palm, “yes, Jason.”

“Good girl.”

Oh, fuck. She thought as his pace quickened. Her arms that had loosely been hanging by his shoulders, now were gripping the back of the couch.

“My love,” he spoke, “you’re doing so good for me.”

She winced. She opened her mouth to respond, but only a moan came out. She touched her forehead to his as she felt herself approaching. “Jase,” she groaned, “Jase, Jase.”

Just as she felt as though she would release, she suddenly felt emptiness inside her. She huffed, “Jason!”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he responded as he kissed her neck.

She breathed heavily before she stood up. He looked at her confused until she began to shimmy off her pajama pants and panties.

He softly grinned as he watched her and began untying his own pajama pants. She kneeled down in front of him to pull down the pants just enough so that his cock could come out unrestrained. Her lips felt like two pillows to him as they suctioned around his tip. He groaned, holding her hair back into a ponytail shape while her tongue swirled around his length. She licked up and down in a teasing manner.

“You're so big,” she giggled, her voice vibrating against every nerve in his body.

“Gods, baby,” he whimpered. He whimpered. Entirely for her. She felt a heartbeat in her and she immediately leaned away.

He desperately looked at her. She ran her fingers through his hair as she made her way on top of him once more. He held onto his cock to align it with her entrance. She stared into his eyes as she wrapped around him.

Both of their breaths bounced off the walls as he reached further into her. The fact that she was absolutely drenched and the precum leaking out of him, made for him to slip into her pussy entirely too easily, even as she was stretching out for how thick he was.

When she had nearly taken him all in, his hips involuntarily bucked up into her. She nearly screamed while her nails stabbed into his shoulder blades. She pulled herself up then quickly down again.

“Wait,” he tightly held her hips. “You're cooking, let me do this, okay?”

She nodded before he turned the two of them around. Her back against the couch cushions while he kneeled on the edge of the couch. He lined up his cock with her hole again, “are you ready?”

She nodded, feeling him slide into her again. She yelped while he waited for her to adjust to his largeness. “Go,” she begged, her face scrunching from how badly she needed him.

He thrusted back out and hardly back in again, “is that good?”

“Perfect,” she wrapped her legs around his torso to get him closer. He smirked at her, grabbing one of her legs and throwing it over his bicep to get deeper into her with his following thrust.

Her hips met his as she twitched towards him. She was already close to the edge from how he had left her hanging earlier. She felt as though all of her senses were heightened. She could feel every vein surrounding his dick, every drop of sweat that left her body, their combined breathing tainting the oxygen of their apartment. And the noise complaint that was surely coming their way.

Jason panted in front of her. Every few moments grunting as he watched the way his dick completely disappeared inside of her tight pussy. He just couldn't get enough of her.

He looked back up to meet to her eyes, only to see her head rested on the back of the couch. She let out a high pitched moan at each thrust, actually it was more of a squeak from how there was no oxygen left in her lungs. She saw in her peripheral vision, his veiny hand grip the couch just as his pace quickened,

“Jason,” she deeply moaned, “I’m almost,” her head turned to the side. She reached for his hand that wasn't holding the couch to intertwine their fingers together. When he realized what she was doing, a smile grew on his face, motivating him to move faster.

“Come on, love,” he said through wavered breaths, “let it out for me.”

She leaned up to look up at him, her grip on both his shoulder and his hand strengthening. After a few more thrusts, she felt herself turn to jello. She let out a loud moan that definitely secured that noise complaint. But to Jason, it was music to his ears. He felt the way he cock was drowning in her juices and wanted nothing more to soak in all of it.

Alas, he pulled out of her. Slowly and carefully as he knew how sensitive she was currently. She tried to catch her breath, but it was hard with the show in front of her. The blond continued to kneel on the couch, stroking his cock. His hand stayed holding hers while the one that was previously gripping the couch, wrapped around his length. She noticed how his glasses were fogging up while his eyes were tightly shut. She tiredly smiled before she sat up with an idea.

She pulled his glasses off his face and placed them over her eyes. He stopped for a second and looked back at her. He wondered if his heart when he noticed what she had done. How there was not a single article of clothing on her skin, except for his glasses that she proudly wore upon her nose.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered.

“Keep going,” she spoke softly.

He nodded, quickening his pace on himself. She took his hand that was holding hers and let go of it. She placed his calloused fingers on her boob, letting him squeeze it.

“Where should I..” before he finished his sentence, his cum released, landing on her upper stomach and chest, “sorry,” she smirked, coating some of the semen that had painted her tit on her fingers before sucking them into her mouth. He froze at the sight and crashed next to her on the couch.

She looked at his amazed face that watched her. She took more off of her body, taking three of her fingers that were now frosted in his cum and placing them in his mouth. He gladly licked the taste of himself off of her hand, staring deep into her eyes. All she said in response was, “appetizers.”

[athena5898]

🔻NEW OFFICIAL BOYCOTT TARGET🔻

Palestinian BDS National Committee:

Coca-Cola: Quenching “Israel’s” genocidal soldiers’ thirst

1) Why?

Because Coca-Cola is implicated in “Israeli” war crimes.

According to research by WhoProfits (https://www.whoprofits.org/companies/company/4081?the-central-bottling-company-cbc-coca-cola-israel), (https://www.whoprofits.org/companies/company/4081?the-central-bottling-company-cbc-coca-cola-israel) the Central Beverage Company, known as Coca-Cola “Israel”, which is the exclusive franchisee of the Coca-Cola Company in “Israel”, “operates a regional distribution center and cooling houses in the [Israeli] Atarot Settlement Industrial Zone.” Furthermore, its subsidiary, Tabor Winery, “produces wines from grapes sourced from vineyards located on occupied land in settlements in the West Bank and Syrian Golan.” 

The International Court of Justice affirmed in July 2024 that “Israel’s” entire occupation of Gaza and the West Bank, including East Jerusalem, is illegal, as are all “Israeli” settlements built on occupied land. As “Israeli” settlements – on occupied Palestinian and Syrian land – are considered war crimes under international law, Coke is complicit in a war crime. 

Corporations that are implicated in the commission of international crimes connected to “Israel’s” unlawful occupation, racial segregation and apartheid regime—within or beyond the Palestinian territories occupied in 1967–are all complicit and must be held accountable. Direct complicity includes military, logistical, intelligence, financial and infrastructure support. The corporations, as well as their boards of directors and executives, may face criminal liability (https://www.somo.nl/wp-content/uploads/2024/06/Obligations-of-Third-States-and-Corporations-to-Prevent-and-Punish-Genocide-in-Gaza-3.pdf) for this complicity.

Local alternatives are popping up worldwide to substitute Coca-Cola, an unnecessary and replaceable beverage.

Local alternatives to Coca-Cola have been gaining market share across the world, including in Palestine, China, Bangladesh, Sweden, Egypt, India, South Africa, Turkey, Lebanon and elsewhere.

2) Why NOW?

The BDS movement has always considered Coca-Cola boycottable but has not prioritized it as a target based on its careful and strategic target-selection criteria (https://www.instagram.com/bdsnationalcommittee/p/C7RY0Y4C-xu/), (https://www.instagram.com/bdsnationalcommittee/p/C7RY0Y4C-xu/) so why endorse the Coke boycott now? 

Human rights and health activists, among many others, have been campaigning against Coca-Cola and similarly complicit corporations for decades, including grassroots drives targeting the company for its complicity in “Israel’s” gross violations of Palestinian human rights. 

During “Israel’s” ongoing, livestreamed genocide, “Israeli” soldiers have often been pictured with Coke cans, donated (https://www.timesofisrael.com/over-100000-soldiers-to-receive-bamba-and-coke-thursday/) to them by various genocide-enabling groups. This has provoked even more anger against the company, particularly given that “Israel” is starving 2.3 million Palestinians in the occupied and besieged Gaza Strip, severely limiting their access to clean water and, as a result, inducing the mass spread of contagious diseases. 

Given this context, Palestinian activists in Gaza (https://x.com/QudsNen/status/1827696428795482136) and many BDS activists in the Arab world, in many Muslim-majority countries, and in some European countries as well, have called on the BDS movement to add Coke to its priority targets.

The BDS movement had previously targeted General Mills for its manufacturing of Pillsbury products in the illegal Atarot Settlement Industrial Zone - the same Zone where the Coke facility operates. Thanks to effective BDS campaigning, we won the demand (https://bdsmovement.net/news/victory-general-mills-divest-from-apartheid-israel) for General Mills to end its business in Atarot. We know a campaign against Coke is winnable too. 

Based on all the above, and given Coke’s large contribution (through business-as-usual and taxes) to “Israel’s” war chest during the genocide, the Palestinian BDS National Committee (BNC), the largest Palestinian coalition leading the global BDS movement, has endorsed the grassroots, organic #BoycottCoke campaigns to pressure the company to end its complicity in “Israel’s” illegal occupation, apartheid and genocide. 

BoycottCoke

[magz]

Palestine related news summary from LetsTalkPalestine, May 1 to May 4, 2024.

[Ways to help, sources, and more: LetsTalkPalestine Linktree]

May 1.

(Instagram reel of UCLA protest. Includes footage of treating n washing a pro-palestine protestors' bloody head)

Day 208

🇨🇴 Colombia to cut diplomatic ties w/ Israel

•⁠ ⁠33 killed, 57 injured in the last 24 hours. Real number likely higher

⚖️ US lobbying ICC not to issue arrest warrants for senior Israeli officials, after Israel's threat to respond by retaliating against Palestinian Authority for sparking ICC investigation

🇫🇷 France denies selling weapons to Israel used in Gaza, claiming what's sold will be re-exported to 3rd countries via Israel, but did supply Israeli Iron Dome defense system

🇹🇷 Turkey set to follow Columbia & Nicaragua by joining South Africa's ICJ case against Israel

🎓 Zionist mob attacked Palestine protestors at UCLA w/ fireworks & pepper spray for 3 hours, police didn’t intervene (📹👆). Columbia & CUNY asked NYPD to raid & arrest 280+ student protestors. New encampments across UK, Tunisia & Canada

🚚 First aid trucks enter through Beit Hanoon crossing to north Gaza despite Israel's promise to open 1 month ago. Nearly half of aid convoys to north Gaza denied by Israel.

May 2.

(Instagram post, news update. The Israeli occupation has killed Palestinian Dr. Adnan Al-Barash.)

Day 209

• 28 Palestinians killed, 51 injured in last 24 hours. Note that the toll is underreported.

🏥 Dr. Adnan al Barash killed in captivity after IOF abducted him in Dec (📷👆)— 496 medical personnel killed in Gaza + 309 in captivity

🇸🇦 Saudi Arabia arrests many for anti-Israel online posts, incl. an executive & media figure. Timing suspicious w/ reports of renewed normalization talks

• IOF attacks aid convoy, killing 1

🇹🇷 Turkey stops all trade w/ Israel after banning 54 exports to Israel

🇺🇸 US House pass “antisemitism awareness” bill using repressive IHRA definition of antisemitism despite antisemitism covered in anti-discrimination law. Why is IHRA definition problematic? See tinyurl.com/ynsfy8sx

• IOF airstrike in central Gaza killed 5, incl. a child

🪨 37m tons of rubble in Gaza, heavy contamination w/ unexploded ammunition & 800,000 tons of asbestos

🎓 Columbia & Emory University face federal investigation for anti-Muslim discrimination, reports of doxing & harassment

May 3.

Day 210

• World Press Freedom Day: Israel killed 100+ journalists since Oct 7 + holding 53 captive

• 26 killed, 51 injured in the last 24 hours. Note the toll is underreported.

• Israel attack on Rafah killed 7, incl. a mother & her children — the children’s bodies were shredded by the airstrikes

🇹🇹 Trinidad & Tobago recognizes the State of Palestine as West Bank & Gaza

🇬🇧 UK sanctions 2 Israeli groups + 4 settlers for violence in West Bank, warns of more sanctions if no Israeli action against settler attacks

• Israeli strike on Bureij camp killed 5, incl. a child

💰 UN estimates cost to rebuild Gaza at $40bn; more than post-WWII reconstruction

🎓 Goldsmiths University students in London win & obtain demands after occupying library — @ goldsmithsforpalestine on instagram for details

🎓 University encampments for Gaza go global spreading to 🇨🇦 🇮🇳 🇳🇿 🇪🇸 🇦🇷 🇯🇵 🇰🇼 🇱🇧 🇹🇳 🇯🇴. US crackdown w/ 2,200 students arrested

• Iran-backed Bahraini militia launches attack at southern Israeli port Eilat

May 4.

Day 211

✝️ Israel blocks entry of many Palestinian Christians to Jerusalem for Holy Saturday celebrations

•⁠ 32 Palestinians killed, 41 injured in Gaza in last 24 hours. Toll underreported

•⁠ ⁠IOF killed 5+ in 15-hour siege on Tulkarem (West Bank) & clashes with Hamas resistance fighters. IOF targeted fighters’ homes w/ women & kids inside, demolished homes trapping many under rubble

•⁠ ⁠Israeli strikes on Gaza kill 11 incl. 3 in bombings of tents in Rafah

•⁠ Head of UN WFP says north Gaza experiencing “full-blown famine” and it’s only a matter of time before south Gaza faces same level of starvation

🇫🇷 British-Palestinian @ dr.ghassan.as denied entry to France for Senate address as witness of Gaza Genocide as Germany put year-long ban on his entry to Europe (Schengen)

🇺🇸 88 US lawmakers warn Biden that Israeli aid blockade violates US ‘foreign assistance’ law

•⁠ IOF abducts 5 overnight in West Bank

🎓 Uni encampments spread to Switzerland, Ireland, Germany, Cuba & Costa Rica