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whateveriwant · 5 months

Note

might I request how tf 141 tries to turn you on maybe? Sorry kind of a weird request you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to ;-;

Not a weird request at all, anon! Hope you enjoy! 18+ only, GN!Reader

Price

Three words: full body massage

That man loves to get his hands on you, and it doesn’t even have to be sexual in nature, honestly. Any opportunity to touch you, to caress you, to help ease the tension from your body, he’ll gladly take it (and if afterwards you’ll let him ease himself into you, well, that’s just an added bonus 😉)

He might use special rollers or electric massagers sometimes, but mostly he just sticks to those big, strong hands of his

He'll start by slicking up his palms with some oil, warming it up before he applies it to your skin

Beginning with your shoulders, he’ll slowly work his way down your body, paying special attention to the areas you need most targeted

Aside from those tender spots, he’ll also be sure to focus on a few of your more erogenous zones, namely your thighs and your ass (he's an ass man for sure)

By the time he's finished, you're all supple and pliant before him, but there’s something else too – a sort of warm, fluttery feeling in your gut

Luckily, he knows just the remedy for that sensation. And oh! Would you look at that? You're already in his favorite position: prone

Ghost

We all know he tends to be a man of few words, and this applies to every environment he finds himself in

…At least, every environment outside the bedroom, that is

Because when he's in the mood, you best hold on tight to your pants if you don't want them flying off from how he talks to you (but, I guess, your pants coming off is his end goal anyway)

You'll just be going about your day, minding your business, when you'll get a call from him while he’s “busy” at work

He'll start off casual at first, inquiring about your day, your plans for the night, etc., but it won't take long for the conversation to steer to the real reason for his call: to describe the way he's going to fuck you when he gets home

He'll go into excruciating, toe curling detail about all the things he's going to do to you; just how good he’s going to fuck you until you forget your own name

I hope you're not in public when you take his call, otherwise you better have the poker face of a lifetime if you don't want to make a scene in front of several dozens of witnesses

Gaz

He's a big romantic at heart, so rather than just going straight for the bedroom, he'll slowly work his way up to it over the course of the evening

First, he'll treat you to a nice dinner – either by cooking it himself or by taking you to that fancy restaurant you love but think is much too expensive for every day dining

Beneath dimmed, romantic lighting, together you'll share a delicious meal, a glass or two of wine, and of course a tasty dessert to cap it all off

The conversation will be light and pleasant (nothing unbecoming whatsoever), but while he might not outright voice the plans he has for you later in the night, that look he keeps giving you from across the table speaks volumes

When you’ve finished your meal and gradually made your way back home/to the bedroom, even then he still isn't done buttering you up just yet

He'll put on some slow music, maybe light a couple candles to really set the mood, even draw you both a bath if you're feeling up to it

Once he does finally take you to bed, it'll be a seamless transition from an evening overflowing with desire and passion

Soap

‘Subtlety’ is not really a word in his vocabulary, so most of the time when he's horny, he's just turning to you and asking if you want to fuck

However, sometimes when you need a little more build up than that, he has a few tried and true methods he knows will work you up

He'll change so that he’s walking around your flat wearing a pair of gray sweatpants. Wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants, mind you

Whilst wearing said sweatpants, he'll proceed to stretch and flex around you, showing off all those muscles he knows you love, as well as highlighting a few other assets he knows drives you crazy (i.e. bulge printtttt 😍)

He'll then get really touchy with you, starting innocent at first – brushing an eyelash from your cheek, straightening the neck of your shirt – before he gets more and more brazen with his petting

And when he's real close like that, leaning right into your ear, he’ll mutter soft praises to you: telling you how beautiful you look, how good you smell, how soft your skin is where he’s touching just there

By the time he finally goes to ask if you want to have sex, he doesn't even get the words out before you're jumping him like a wild animal. All according to plan…

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bambihrt · 4 months

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please please please please pleaseeee elaborate on the vee's little pet thing, I'm going through a thing idk, vee's little pet, but you wanna be there and its mildly wholesome

there's nothing better than being the object of desire of three overlords

you started off as a model for velvette who scouted you while walking down the street

once she realized how plaint you were you became her favorite

you'd let her dress you every day and follow her around like a puppy

now with this favoritism it was only natural you'd cross paths with the other vees

the first of which was vox who asked for you to be on one of his broadcasts

this show was a hit and you started to appear on more episodes

having now spent more time with you vox couldn't help but develop a small crush on you

val thought nothing of you the first time he met you or the dozen times after that

until he noticed vox stutter when asking you a question

now this piqued his interest, why would his confident,let's face it cocky, lover stumble over his words while speaking to you

sure you were attractive and popular but compared to many other sinners you were so boring

he had to know what made you so special so he asked you out to velvette and vox's shared horror

but the vees share so they couldn't exactly say no

and him being an overlord you couldn't say no

val fell and he fell hard

neither vox nor velvette wanted to fall behind as they started taking you on more outings

the three of them were a team but having a shared goal they grew competitive

fighting amongst us each other would end terribly so after lots of jealousy and conspiring they agreed to share their conquest

you went from just joining them at their jobs to movie nights all snuggled up

as all three were quite busy and powerful overlords, they made a schedule with each other for time with you with an agreement they'd all spend their nights with you

your freewill was completely gone but you can't deny becoming their pet secured protection and and a reputation

the moment they set their sights on you, you were done for

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #the vees x reader #the vees #hazbin hotel vees

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gi4hao · 3 months

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thinking about how mingyu would go out of his way to help you deal with a particularly intense migraine.

his main goal is to remain as quiet as he possibly can, making sure that the drawers don’t close too loud or that no sound is leaking from his headphones. he only allows himself to make a little noise to bring you a steaming cup of ginger tea, which he lovingly prepared after asking minghao what kind of herbs were best for migraines.

he reads dozens of online articles on how to relieve the pain, and you’re benefitting from everything all at once: lights off, cold compresses on your neck, temples massages… even acupressure points on your hands, which he gets very serious about, following tutorials to the letter.

you end up falling asleep after almost an hour, soothed by the calming environment he’s created for you. and although he’s kept massaging you for a few minutes, he eventually shifts his weight to the edge of the bed, ready to get up and leave you alone to rest. but he’s held back by your arm sluggishly wrapping around his waist as you pull him back to bed.

“can you stay a bit longer?” you ask, “you’re comfy”

and although you can barely make out his features in the dark, you just know that a fond smile is lighting up his face.

“of course i can” he tells you, leaving a kiss on top of your head before lying down to let you cuddle him the way that feels right for you. his hand finds its way back to your head, and you let yourself be lulled back to sleep by his fingertips tracing curvy patterns on your scalp.

#big big sigh #i need him #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #mingyu fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #mingyu imagines

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maxwell-grant · 16 days

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There's a trend people have pointed out in superhero stories over the past 20 or so years that is the death of "regular" supporting casts, an increasing absence of un-powered sidekicks or people involved who aren't in the thick of the action or in the hero's secret. Everyone who interacts with superheroes is a couple issues away from becoming one, every story involves a supervillain encounter or several dozen, every hero's gotta have a lunchbox-ready "superhero family" made from these characters, and every side character that doesn't join them is either going to die or become a supervillain.

The defining example people use for this is Spider-Man's supporting cast, with every Spider-Man cast member short of Aunt May and J Jonah Jameson getting some kind of powered upgrade or symbiote, and I'm gonna say Amanda Waller is an excellent case study of how this kind of thing happens, and I think it helps to explain why Amanda Waller has been, Like That, for the past 30 years.

She’s wearing a grey shirt underneath a blue blazer and it’s tucked into a similarly blue skirt that stops at mid calf. She reminds me of the neighbourhood aunties I used to see leaving for church every Sunday morning.

My mom used to say that you are the company you keep. So what kind of person does it take to keep a variety of bruised, battered, and dangerous personalities in check? - Amanda Waller: DC's Most Terrifying Woman

To those of you who haven't read John Ostrander and Kim Yale's Suicide Squad, there once was a time where Amanda Waller was something more than a powerful antagonistic force able to butt heads with the biggest superheroes, and something other than a heartless establishment face out to make superheroes miserable for ill-defined reasons. Structurally speaking, Suicide Squad is a comic about marginal DCU characters forced to deal with actual real life problems, and it's central character is a marginalized person forced to deal with DCU problems and characters. The members of the Squad are a rolling parade of costumed misfits and maniacs assigned to go around the globe to fight and kill and die on dirty missions to deal with dirty laundry and stop war zones from erupting, while Amanda Waller is forced to shuffle around her cadre of D-list supervillains and disgraced superheroes and get into stand-offs with secret spy societies, living nukes, voodoo cartels, and Batman.

Amanda Waller neither looks nor acts like the kind of character that stars in a superhero comic, and she is the central character throughout the 66 issues of the run and we follow her character arc from beginning to end as she's forced to spin plates to accomplish her goals and prevent bad situations from getting worse. She is the most fully realized character in the run and everything rests on her shoulders. We spend a lot of time inside her head, her team, her associates, she is the center holding together an extremely chaotic book with no two characters on the same page. She is, and has to be, an extremely powerful person, someone who stands her ground no matter what, an unbeatable force of will because that is the only way she's going to survive the situations she's in, the only way she can be "The Wall", the kind of person who can repel Batman, command a platoon of monsters, talk her way out of Deadshot's contract, someone who can stare at Darkseid and credibly threaten the President into letting her live.

That's the part that everyone is more or less familiar. But there is, or at least used to be, much more to Amanda Waller than just being The Wall, not in the least because being The Wall is also hampering her effectiveness as well as straight up killing her.

"Amanda's toughness has taken her a long way" "It's taken her as far as it can. But it can't take her no further. It's actually starting to drag her down. I'm scared for my baby sister, rev - scared that the anger in her is congealing into hate." - Suicide Squad #31

We get to know her backstory, her plans, her points of contention with the system, her relationships with people around her, and how deeply she cares about things and people even as she sends them to the meatgrinder. From the start we learn that Waller staffs her team with people she's prone to getting into disagreements with, like Simon LaGrieve and Rick Flag, specifically so they can cover her moral blind spots and pick up the slack in emotional intelligence she's lacking, be the heroes that she can't afford to be. It is unspeakably crucial that the Squad is led by Rick Flag as well as Bronze Tiger, a fallen hero who owes Waller for his recovery who eventually takes Flag's baton. Waller stands up for her team, gets into fights with her superiors when they decide to terminate them, and takes the fall for them when necessary. Waller is a person who does Bad Things - but she is not a Bad Person.

The book in no uncertain terms frames the Suicide Squad's existence as monstrous in a scale Waller doesn't understand until the very end, and it digs deep into the unethical things Waller has to allow for and perpetrate in order to keep it running no matter how many lives it saves, and she spends the first half of the book on a downward spiral. But then there's the 2nd half of the book:

In the first 39 issues, Amanda’s flaws are her undoing. As she pushes away the people she hired to act as a balance, she grasped tighter and tighter to her uncompromised vision of the Suicide Squad despite the constant changes and derailment. Her choices had consequences: the death of Rick Flag, her demotion, employees quitting, and finally, the disbandment of the team.

The last 27 issues have Amanda rising up from the ashes after a year in jail. She’s less in her own way – she communicates, her anger isn’t driving her, she’s more receptive of alternative perspective and recognizes when she’s wrong in real time – but she’s still just as scary.

Waller rebuilds her relationships with the people she drove away, takes a different tack to how the team works, and starts going out into the frontlines with the Squad. She brings Oracle (who actually made her debut in this comic) into the fold, saves her life and plays a big role in Barbara making progress in overcoming her Joker trauma. She genuinely puts in the work to improve as a person and do things a better way than before, even if there is an inescapable immorality to the very existence of the Squad and what they do. That immorality never goes away, and it only further horrifies her when learning how badly her project has gone. In fact, it's that very inescapable immorality that ends her arc.

She learns that the CIA has started using a new Suicide Squad to support a brutal regime in South America, and when faced with the full extent of her complicity in Western imperialism? She decides right then and there to end the Suicide Squad for good after they liberate the population of said regime from said Squad. She is the only person who gives a shit about the country enough to start the assignment for free once she knows about it, force the Squad along, lead the mission in field, and personally (and even gently) usher the villain to his death at the end, to end what began with her.

She does bad things, and she does good things. She cares about people, and she uses people. Her decisions ruin as well as save the world. She spins a million plates to match wills and wits with the strongest, wickedest, most cunning humans and superhumans alike, and she still has superiors to answer to and people close to her she hires to judge her for what she does. She endured racism and misogyny and poverty for decades and rode whatever she could to attain as much power over her own life as someone like her could possibly attain, and to have it, she must be a willing tool of the state and bend the knee to Ronald Reagan, the man she derides for what he did to her community, hating every minute of it.

She lost her family to sexual and racial violence, and now she wrangles a penal battalion comprised of some of the worst people on the planet to inflict violence on her orders. She has saved and redeemed people, and she's haunted by the corpses she's left in her wake. She is oppressed and oppressor, someone who could only escape the ravages of American imperialism by becoming one of it's chief enforcers, and still she rebuilds herself into a better person from it upon confronting and challenging her role in it. She is not a bad person, she is not a good person either, she is just afforded a degree of agency and complexity unpowered characters in superhero books simply don't get.

Okay cool, now what is she up to these days?

That, I guess. That is what a strong but unpowered person who does not allow themselves to be bossed around by superheroes or supervillains looks like now. Everytime there's a call for a military bad guy, Waller gets tagged in to be DC's Henry Gyrich. There was a point where Waller was made to contrast the likes of Sarge Steel and Wade Eiling, someone who butted heads with them because she was a well-meaning person working for and committing evil as often as she attempted to stop it. These days, the most consistent beat with her is that she is the most dangerous person alive and worse than the villains she wrangles into working for her. She is a thing to be overcome, a hypocrite to be exposed, a challenge to the natural order of the universe, and she is too terrific at it to be shuffled off quietly. She is a Bad Person and so everything she says and does is Bad (and thus can be ignored).

Integral to Suicide Squad's structure was the fact that Waller was the center holding everything together, the ultimate third party: spinning plates working with, for and against all of the others so she can bend rules and be bent by them. Bent, but never broken, because The Wall doesn't break, others break first. Waller was a one-of-a-kind character, and that broke her, because beating Sarge Steel and Wade Eiling at their own game means replacing Sarge Steel and Wade Eiling. Waller doesn't look like them, she doesn't look like the superheroes either, and so she can't be one of them. She can't even look like herself a lot of the time, they try to slim her up everytime they think they can get away with it.

Suicide Squad was preoccupied with exploring a perspective from a world outside the superhero worldview, but we no longer have her perspective or that of people around her, we only know her through the superheroes she inherently defies and has had an adversarial relationship against from day one. She is someone with a viewpoint that is charitable to neither superheroes nor institutions, and thus, the universe is increasingly less sympathetic to her, the less utility she has to the grander narrative where everyone has to pick between one of two options. If she wasn't powerful and assertive, she'd be another Leslie Thompkins, another Jiminy Cricket the heroes passively ignore. But because she is powerful and doing morally compromised things without asking Batman's permission, she must have a personal grudge. She must be a government monster. She must attack the superheroes for no reason, no ideology, no motive.

So now she's just The Wall 24/7, the mean icy establishment boot who is strong and clever and cruel and hates superheroes and wants to destroy superheroes and rule the world from the shadows. Everything she does is a fuck-up she refuses to take responsability for, everyone is right to hate and distrust mean old Waller, and now everyone gets to look good by dunking on her. They couldn't make her a superhero, so they made her a generic supervillain instead. And now that she's a bad guy, she no longer has to believe anything, she doesn't really have to mean anything, they don't have to write stories about something other than superheroes and supervillains, and they don't have to let a fat woman of color take up space and screentime they could be giving to Harley Quinn and Slade Wilson instead.

Even by the time of Waller's debut on the tail end of the 80s, her career opportunities were on their way to extinction

Days Of Future Past marks the triumph of the superhero comic that's pretty much concerned with no-one but superheroes. Where Ditko and Lee's Spider-Man featured a single costumed crimefighter in the context of a commonplace existence, the X-Men of the 80s focused on a huge cast of mutants who had little if any lasting involvement in the everyday world.

By the 21st century, the corporate superhero comic would largely - if not exclusively - concern itself with little beyond a large class of superhumans and their fantastical existence. I suspect there's a significant correlation between that and the continuing cultural peripherilisation of the superhero comic - Colin Smith

Amanda Waller is one of the strongest characters in all of comics, she was as powerful as an non-superpowered character given center stage could possibly be, a perfectly designed character from which an entire corner of a shared universe was developed out of with her as the center making it work, but as the room for civilian casts and unpowered protagonists got smaller and smaller, so did Waller's options. If she was a Spider-Man character and somehow didn't get killed or made into a villain, they would have slimmed her up and given her a symbiote, because you're nobody unless you're web-swinging. Characters didn't look or act like Amanda Waller, and unfortunately, they still don't. It's just instead of making more characters like her, they gutted Waller to be more like the rest. If she couldn't make it, who else even could.

Keep your eyes peeled for this summer when she'll team up with two meaningless robot baddies to burn down the Justice League and I guess the universe for the next reboot or something.

#superheroes #dc comics #suicide squad #amanda waller #john ostrander #kim yale #dcu #dc #comic books #superhero comics

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matchingbatbites · 1 year

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Steve proposes to Eddie during DND.

He's played about a dozen times since the Vecna ordeal three years ago, just one-off stories with no real consequences, and while it took him a little bit to get a feel for the game, he's finally reached a point where he doesn't feel totally out of place.

It helps that Eddie absolutely lights up every time Steve agrees to play, that his boyfriend tends to go a little easier on the rest of the table because they all help Steve half-fumble through the mechanics. It's worth it when Eddie beams at him for figuring something out first, for suggesting a dumb play that has the table screaming when it works.

It's the summer after the kids' senior year, and when Eddie offers to run an all-day one shot to celebrate their graduation, Steve instantly starts planning. He talks to Robin, who absolutely gushes over his idea, and along with Dustin they plan it all out.

He learns the premise of the one-shot from Eddie - there's a big bad who's been taking people from the kingdom, and the king is finally forced to do something when his own son, the prince, is also taken - and Dustin helps him make a character, a fighter who is the personal guard of the prince, whose goal is to find and bring him back safely.

Eddie seems pleased with the character when Steve explains it to him, even more so when Steve suggests the idea that they've fallen for each other and have been lovers in secret. "You're such a romantic, sweetheart," Eddie says before kissing him, and Steve knows it’s a tease and a compliment, knows that Eddie loves how soft he can get over things like that.

The game happens about two weeks later, and Eddie wasn’t joking when he called it an all-day affair.

They get started at about ten that morning, Steve and Eddie, their four boys, and Erica all crowded around the little dining table in Steve and Eddie's little apartment, with Robin, El, and Max entertaining themselves in the adjacent living room.

At Eddie’s insistence, they take a break every couple of hours so everyone can get up and stretch and use the toilet, with slightly longer breaks for lunch and dinner (sandwiches and pizza, respectively, both provided by Steve and Eddie).

The big bad is defeated at around nine that night, and everyone is elated as Eddie takes them through the aftermath, letting each player character have a short moment to reunite with their stolen friends and loved ones.

Robin and the girls have moved to sit on the nearby kitchen counter to listen, partly because El always enjoys these soft moments in the story, and partly because Robin knows what’s going to happen soon.

Steve stays quiet, letting the others have their moment as he fights down the sudden anxiety that sparks through him, knowing what he’s about to do. He looks up when Eddie says his name, takes a steadying breath, and asks "Do I see the prince?"

Eddie nods, says "You do."

"I go over to him."

"He sees you approaching and he rushes to you, meeting you halfway. As soon as you're close enough, he throws his arms around you and says 'I knew you would save me, darling.'"

Steve smiles. "I say, 'I always will, my love' and then I kiss him."

The teens hoot and holler a little as Eddie grins. "He kisses you back, and for a moment it's like everything else fades to the background. All that matters is him, back where he belongs, safe in your arms."

Steve nods, and before he loses his nerve asks "Can I do something?"

Eddie quirks a brow, curious. "Of course,” he says, and Steve takes a breath to steady himself.

"I take his hand, and then I drop to one knee."

A couple of the teens give little 'ooh's as Eddie looks at him, clearly a little surprised, and Steve continues before he can say anything.

"Three years ago, I took my place by your side as your personal guard. I swore to care for you, to protect you from anything that would want to hurt you, and somewhere along the way, we fell in love."

Steve swallows, knows he's blurring the line of character and person as he speaks, staring at Eddie across the table.

"The last three years have been everything to me. Any time I'm not with you, you're the only thing I can think about, and every day spent with you is a fucking gift, because I know just how close I came to losing you."

The sudden urge to touch Eddie becomes overwhelming and he stands, watches Eddie's shocked face as he rounds the table and drops to a knee in front of his lover. Eddie's eyes are wide and he gives a soft "Steve?" as Steve takes a slender hand in his own, remembers the words he had practiced over and over with Dustin.

"I don't want to be just a fighter anymore. I want to be a paladin, set on a righteous path, and if you'll let me, I want to make an Oath of Devotion. Not to any god or angel, but to you, the love of my life."

Steve pulls the ring from his pocket and offers it to Eddie. It's very much not traditional, and at first glance seems to be just another chunky ring that blends in with Eddie's current selection. But Steve had to get it, the shield molded onto the band and the new 'beloved' engraved on the inside repeating what Steve always says, I'll protect you, I love you.

Eddie is in tears as Steve stares him down, as he gently asks "Eddie Munson, will you marry me?"

For just a second, Eddie is completely still, save for his shaky breathing. Steve doesn't get scared, he knows that sometimes it takes Eddie a second to register things when he's overwhelmed. He waits it out, and after a few seconds Eddie blinks rapidly before jerking forward, dropping to his knees as he throws his arms around Steve. "Fuck yes! Of course I will!"

Cheers erupt through the room, and a flash goes off when they meet in a kiss. Eddie looks over to see Robin with a camera in her hand and tears streaming down her face. “Don’t mind me,” she says, a bit choked up even as she beams at them, and Eddie’s head whips back to Steve.

“You planned this!” he yells, unable to stop his own tears from falling, and Steve laughs. “Of course I did!” is his reply as he takes Eddie’s hand back so he can slide the ring onto it, and he ignores the second flash from where Robin sits.

“Wanted it to be perfect,” Steve says softly, stroking his thumb over the ring, now at its new home on Eddie’s finger. “Wanted you to know how much you mean to me, and I figured something nerdy would hit all the right buttons.”

“I helped with the nerd stuff!” Dustin calls from his seat, and Eddie laughs wetly as he scrubs at the tear tracks on his cheeks. “I should have known something was up with you, Henderson. You’ve been bouncing off the walls for weeks.”

Steve stands up from the floor before helping Eddie up, and they both grunt as Dustin practically slams into them for a hug, quickly followed by a more reserved El. They hug each of the kids in turn and accept their congratulations, and after a few minutes Eddie is put together enough to actually finish out the one-shot.

Later that night as they're getting ready for bed, Eddie presses up behind Steve, one hand sliding to rest on his stomach and the other opening in front of them, revealing a simple, gold band.

"You beat me to it, you dick," he says with so much tenderness, and Steve laughs as he takes the ring.

"You can still do your proposal, if you want," Steve replies, heart swelling as he looks over the band, sees the little 'sweetheart' engraved on the inside.

"Nah, there's no way I can top what you did for me."

"I dunno, you normally top me pretty well," Steve teases, just to hear Eddie's delighted little cackle.

He turns and hands the ring back to Eddie, asks "Put it on me?" and Eddie smiles. He takes the ring and slides it onto Steve's finger, his thumb brushing over shiny metal, and Steve feels so fucking happy as they meet in the middle for a kiss.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve x eddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #joey writes #steddie fanfic #heres the proposal fic #as promised #i see you all screaming in the tags and please know it brings me endless joy #ily all #oath of devotion

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houseofanticipation · 3 months

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It's impossible to count the number of times you've imagined this moment. Late at night, under the covers; in the bathtub, and the shower; on slow days at the bookstore, the summer before senior year; during Mr. Madrigal's long, droning lectures. You fantasized so vividly you could see each scene on the back of your eyelids, hear each sound between breaths. Many a time your hand migrated southward, almost of its own volition. If you were in public, you'd hold it against your crotch, pressing it into yourself with the force of your clenched thighs. In private, you'd be far less subtle.

In all those fantasies, you never imagined it would look quite like this.

The hallway smells like cigarettes and industrial cleaner. The haphazardly patterned carpet is coming up at the edges. The yellow tube light overhead might be attempting morse code, the way it flickers. Paint peels from the door in front of you, and one of the metal digits in the room number has been replaced with one that doesn't quite match: room 233. You raise your hand, your knuckles inches from the door, and then you pause. You're not sure if you can go through with this.

Before you can decide, the door opens anyway.

You started posting pictures in your first year of college. It was just your tits at first. You'd been quietly following those subreddits and tumblr blogs for a while, and you thought it would be a bit of fun, a little thrill. You didn't expect the response you got: dozens of people telling you how much they'd enjoyed it, asking for more. So you posted more, and the people asked for different things. Post your ass. Post your cunt. Post your fingers in your cunt. Post audio of you moaning as you came. The more you revealed of yourself, the more attention you got, and the more attention you got, the more you wanted to show. People wanted to send you tips, so you set up a Cash App address. You never got much, a few dollars here and there, but it was nice to get a free coffee now and then.

And somewhere along the way, apparently, you let slip that you were a virgin.

The message came late last semester, from a Cash App user whose name was just a string of numbers. It read, "I will buy your virginity for $100,000. So you know I'm serious, here is $7000 for you to keep, deal or no deal. Let me know if interested."

It was like one of those hypotheticals you talk about with your friends at the dinner table. Would you work nonstop for a year if it meant you never had to work again? Would you cut off your hand if it meant you never had to die? Would you let a stranger from the internet take your virginity for a hundred thousand dollars? You thought about it for weeks. The 7 thousand in itself was a windfall you never could have imagined. It was the new laptop you needed, four times over. It was a large iced coffee ever day for three and a half years. After graduation, if you were smart, it could be your living expenses for the better part of a year. But a hundred thousand might be a house, or a car, or a few years of freedom to pursue your goals. And when you asked how you could trust him to pay when he'd gotten what he wanted, he told you he'd be happy to pay up front.

So here you are, in a dingy hotel, face to face with the broad-shouldered, potbellied older man in front of you. "I saw you through the peephole," he says. There's something impish about him. Maybe it's the toothy grin, or the way his ears stick out from his head, or the obvious glee in his voice as he looks you up and down. "My, you're much better in person. Come in! You got the money then?"

You nod. You didn't leave the Lyft until it was there in your account.

"Good," he says, throwing the dead bolt. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

"What should...I mean, how do you want to..." you feel yourself talking strangely. Breathing in the wrong places, words tumbling over each other. "Maybe we should...talk first? Get to know each other?"

"No need for that," says the man matter-of-factly, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is smooth, his skin a mottled pink. He waves a hand at your body. "Go ahead and get those off."

Back in high school, one of your recurring fantasies involved Jason Meier having his way with you in the back of that beat up convertible he used to drive. That old thing used to get you so wet. It was a piece of junk, but something about the exposure of it...In the fantasy, he's driven you out to some secluded spot outside of town. Cicadas drone all around. The night sky shines bright with stars. He cups your face with one hand, strokes your cheek with his thumb, asks you if this is your first time. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, then below your ear, then down your neck. As his hands undo the top button of your blouse, he tells you he'll be gentle.

The man is watching you expectantly. With his shirt on, he looked like a portly old man. Without it you can see that every inch of that stocky build is hard muscle. That pink skin strains against his mass, muscle rippling beneath it as he moves. "What are you waiting for?"

Your legs tremble. Your knees feel like they're about to buckle. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your body has never done this before. You didn't know you could feel this kind of fear, and yet there's nothing to fight, nowhere to flee. You agreed to this. You decided this was what you wanted. Slowly, you pull your shirt over head.

He groans in the back of his throat, a long, growly sound. His face is a mask of focus, the impish joviality gone, his eyes fixated on your breasts. "And the rest."

You kick off your shoes, pull off your socks. An inch at a time, you slide your shorts and panties over your ass, down your legs, past your trembling knees. You step out of them, and now you're completely exposed. You cross your arms over your chest, then lower them when he grunts disapproval. Almost urgently, he unbuttons his pants, pulls out a long, rigid cock, and begins to stroke himself.

You didn't discover internet porn until your senior year, and before then the only penises you'd seen were a few drawings in your health textbook. In the fantasy, you unbutton Jason Meier's pants and fig. 7.5, "The penis becomes engorged when in state of arousal," pops out of his underwear. You take it in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the girth, and look up into those beautiful brown eyes of his.

This cock is much...realer. It has bounce, texture, even a sound as his hand slides up and down its length. It's longer than the one in that old fantasy, too, and it leans slightly to the left. For years you've wondered what it would be like to see a cock in person, and now that you're here it terrifies you.

"Come here," says the man, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Get on your knees."

You falter. "You didn't...I mean, we didn't agree to that."

"I bought your virginity," says the man. "You ever suck cock before?"

You shake your head.

"Then your mouth is just as much a virgin as your cunt. Get down here."

It's almost a relief to get off your legs, the way they've been threatening to give out. Close up, you can see the purples and blues of the veins under his skin. The head of his cock pulses with anticipation as your lips part, your tongue extends...

You don't think you can do this.

Then his hand is on the back of your head.

You always imagined Jason Meier whimpering as you took him into your mouth. You were never quite able to picture what he would feel like between your lips, on your tongue; the movie camera of your imagination always panned up at that point, to focus on his face. He would let his head fall back in pleasure, eyebrows knit with sensation, lips slightly parted. Now, though, there's no camera to pan. You are here. This is real. And his powerful hand is pushing your mouth onto his cock.

A sound you can't control comes out of you. Your back arches, your hands flail, and then by pure instinct they're on his belly, pushing against him, away from him. Spit runs down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you say, looking anywhere but at his face. "I'm sorry, I can't, I thought I could do this but I can't."

There's a horrible darkness in his voice. "I already gave you the money."

"I know, I'll give it back, I'm sorry." The words trip over each other on the way out of your mouth. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have, I just, I thought I could..."

His hand is on the back of your head again, and this time his fingers are curled tight into your hair. He jerks your head back, forcing you to look at him, and his eyes are cold and predatory. "I'm not interested in returning what's already bought and paid for." He jams himself back into your mouth.

You always imagined yourself savoring it, taking your time to explore every inch of Jason's length with your tongue, but there's no time for that now. The veiny, throbbing thing in your mouth bypasses your tongue entirely, forcing past your uvula. You gag, then gag again. Your stomach churns and you convulse as your body tries to remove the foreign object, but the man just pushes harder. Your eyes water as he slides deeper, deeper, making your throat bulge, your limbs spasm. As his balls touch your chin, you close your eyes and try to relax your throat.

He holds you like that. You gag for a third time, and thick saliva explodes through the gaps around his cock, dripping down your chin and collecting in a long, dangling rope. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to acclimatize to the feeling, try to convince your body that nothing is wrong. You think you've got it, and then he moves slightly, and you're gagging again. He groans, grips your head tighter, and in the back of your throat you feel his cock swell slightly. He likes it when you gag for him, says a voice in the back of your mind. The motion is pleasurable for him.

You've got another problem rearing its head. You can't breathe. It was fine at first, but the man shows no interest in freeing up your airways, and in all the gagging and crying, you haven't exactly been conserving your oxygen. You pat his leg, trying to signal to him, but all he does is clap you on the side of the head. Your ear rings, you gag again, and his cock throbs. Black walls are closing in on your vision. The effort of struggling against him becomes too much, and your arms fall to your sides. Your eyelids flutter. You're going to pass out. You're going to pass out, and then what will he do to you?

But just before the world fades to black, he pulls your head back again. You feel every inch of his cock as it slides out of your throat. He lifts your face, and your eyes struggle to focus on his as you take lungful after lungful of glorious air. Drool spills across your lips, but you don't care. You're alive.

The man slaps you hard, leaving a stinging impression of his palm on your cheek. You whimper. Two of his fingers are in your mouth, pushing on the back of your tongue. Not knowing exactly why, you close your lips around them and shut your eyes.

"That's better," he says.

The first time you saw a male sex toy in use was in an ad before a porn video you were watching. You were taken aback by the way the performer had pounded it over his cock, barely more than an extension of his hand. You're reminded of that image as he parts your lips again, and the rape of your throat begins in earnest.

You haven't thought about Jason Meier in years, but at this moment he's the only thing keeping you sane. As your face rams up and down, up and down, you retreat to that beat up convertible, and Jason's soft, thoughtful face. As the man tightens his grip, Jason runs his fingers through your hair. As the man grunts and growls with pleasure, Jason coos your name. With each stroke of his cock down your throat, each spasm of your body, you focus on a different part of Jason's body: his large hands, his long fingers, his shoulders, his jawline, his liquid brown eyes. By the time the man finally releases your hair, you can barely feel your body any more. The convertible is far more real than the squeaky motel bed. The hands on your body are Jason's, soft and tender.

He climbs over the center console straddling you. You lock lips, feel your tongues in each other's mouths, kiss so deeply that it feels as though you share the same breath. He pulls the lever to lay your seat back, and then he's over you, on top of you, lifting your skirt, pulling your panties to the side.

This is the part where, in the old days, you would have slipped a finger or two inside yourself. But this time you don't have to. This time you can feel him inside you, really feel him, and he fills you up like your fingers never could. There's some pain—they told you there'd be pain, didn't they, your first time—but it falls away to the thrill, the lust, the pleasure. Jason whimpers as he slides into you, deeper, deeper, and you moan into each other's mouths as his pelvis meets yours. You take a moment to savor it, breathing each other in, and then he begins to thrust.

You feel drunk. It's exactly like you always imagined it, and somehow better than you could ever have expected. Each movement of his hips brings another sensation: a spasm in the arches of your feet, a hitch in your breath, a churning, swirling need in the depths of your abdomen. Deeper you tell him, harder, and he obliges, pulling you into him, and him into you.

You can feel the orgasm building, but it isn't like any you've had before. Every time you've ever cum, you've been in control. This time, Jason is in control. Jason decides when you cum, how you cum. One hand supports his weight as he leans over you, and the other slides up your belly. You used to watch those hands obsessively. The way he held a pencil, the way he bit his knuckles when he was thinking. Now that hand slides up, caresses your breast. Now that thumb brushes your hair out of your face. Now those fingers close around your throat.

You know you're safe with Jason, but the pressure on your throat triggers some animal fear response in you. You try to squirm away, but his arm is strong, and his hand his firm. Your hands go to his wrist. "I don't like that, stop." He just smiles. It isn't his usual sweet smile, either. This one is cruel. Predatory.

Your face feels tight. Your eyes bulge. You're beginning to panic for real now. "Jason, seriously, stop!" You beat at his arm with your fists, but he easily takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. You try to kick at him, but he's already past your defenses, between your legs, pushing them uselessly apart. His grip tightens, his rhythm increases, his cock swells inside you. He's getting off on this.

All at once you're back in the hotel room. The man's sweaty red face is inches away from your own, and the lust in his eyes is obvious. His cock seems to push deeper with every thrust, and the horrible thing is that the orgasm is still coming. It's close now, you can feel it, and it's like he knows exactly how to bring it out. You feel floaty, tingly, and that awful pleasure is welling up inside you, a pot about to boil over...

"That's right," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "That's what I was waiting for. That perfect mix of...pleasure...and...fear." He punctuates each of these last three words with a long, deep thrust, and it's these that send the orgasm spilling over. A choked moan pushes itself out of you as your back arches, your toes curl, your legs wrap involuntarily around his waist, tears roll down your cheeks. That floaty feeling has combined with the orgasm to create something like how you imagine heroin must feel; a wave of mind numbing, soul deadening ecstasy. Your insides feel hot, and at first you think that must just be what it feels like when you cum from sex, but then you see the look on his face and realize that he's cumming too. His grip relaxes and he pounds away a few more times at your now-limp body. You stare at the ceiling as he moans, buries his face between your tits, pumps round after round of his warm, thick cum into your cunt, your womb. After one final push he collapses onto you, his cock still inside you, his bulk crushing you into the bed. You don't move.

He strokes your cheek. Fondles your nipple. Kisses your neck. Then he kisses your mouth, his tongue pushing your lips open, his breath like damp earth. You barely see him.

It must be almost ten minutes before he finally gets up, his limp cock sliding out of you at last. You can feel his cum dripping from your cunt as he puts on his underwear, then pants, then shirt, then shoes. "The room is paid for the night," he says with his hand on the door handle. "Thank you for struggling. Taking someone's virtue is so much better when you actually get to take it.

You don't respond.

You don't know how long you lie there, motionless, dripping cum. Oddly, the man who just raped you isn't the one burned onto your mind's eye. Try as you might to return to that sweet teenage fantasy, all you can see is Jason Meier as he held his hand to your throat, and that cruel, predatory smile on his face.

#CW im told this one is realer than usual so be warned #r@pe fantasy #cnc free use #cvmdump #cvmslvt #breeding toy #r@petoy #r@pe kink

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starsainzjr · 4 months

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Baker's Dozen

Pairing: Toto Wolff x baker!reader Faceclaim: None Requested: yes no

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mercedesamgf1 Silverstone

Liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 509,074 others

mercedesamgf1 Always a pleasant day when the real boss comes to visit! Thank you for the sweet treats, @/yourusername and @/brackleybakery!

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yourusername My favorite clients! Thank you for letting me be the good luck charm!

lewishamilton I have never, nor will ever, have a better vegan cake than yours

yourusername It's only that good because you were my taste tester georgerussell63 It was vegan????? yourusername You're lucky you're good at driving carmenmundt And pretty georgerussell63 Is all I'm good for my looks? carmenmundt 🤷‍♀️

wolffie YN is the true queen of Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team

forzaformula YN is the queen of the grid, let's be real without ourselves here

l.h.eight She makes them accommodating for Lewis I can't do this that's adorable

totos92 I am going to miss YN and Lewis content so bad

yourusername Silverstone

Liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1, georgerussell63 and 30,846 others

yourusername It's rare that I get out of the kitchen but when I do it's to celebrate with my favorite people. And annoy my husband while he's trying to work

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mercedesamgf1 If we could hire you as our onsite baker we would

yourusername I do not doubt it for a single second

georgerussell63 What, I don't get a spot in the post?

yourusername You hid every time I had my phone out carmenmundt It's true I watched you dive behind a pile of tyres yourusername See? I have witnesses georgerussell63 Fine

lewishamilton I didn't even see you take that

yourusername I'm sneaky

l.h.eight He looks so happy 😭

totos92 Queen YN strikes again this weekend

wolffie YN and Toto are actually goals I cannot be convinced otherwise

brackleybakery Brackley, England

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brackleybakery We are pleased to announce that Brackley Bakery will be opening a second location in London!

Doors will open on 15th October 2024. We look forward to seeing everyone on opening day!

yourusername Brackley Bakery

Liked by carmenmundt, georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1 and 30,927 others

yourusername Trying out some new recipes for the second location! Featuring Toto's reaction when ten boxes of cookies showed up at his office captured by @/georgerussell63 thank you for my new blackmail picture

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georgerussell63 Anything for the Queen 🫡

yourusername 🫡 carmenmundt As if you didn't benefit greatly from it

mercedesamgf1 We will be your taste testers any time you need us

lewishamilton Thank you for the vegan box

yourusername I hope you got those ones to yourself lewishamilton @/georgerussell63 tried to steal a few georgerussell63 I did not! I realized they were vegan and promptly put them back down

l.h.eight What I wouldn't give to have ten boxes of cookies made by YN

wolffie Party at Brackley Bakery to get some of these cookies who's in

mercedesamgf1 London, England

Liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton, yourusername and 687,055 others

mercedesamgf1 The boys are on the way to support YN Wolff and the opening of the new @/brackleybakery location! So proud of our Queen on this special day!

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yourusername So beyond grateful for the support today! Thank you boys, thank you team!

lewishamilton Particularly excited for the vegan section

georgerussell63 Tell our physios not to look

carmenmundt You better be bringing me back some treats I swear to God georgerussell63 I will bring you back one of everything

l.h.eight I cannot believe we only have like two months left of this content

wolffie No literally it causes me physical pain that we'll be seeing Lewis in red next year. It doesn't feel right

totos92 Crying for the YN and Toto content we're going to get today

yourusername Brackley Bakery

Liked by carmenmundt, georgerussell63, lewishamilton and 44,873 others

yourusername This has truly been one of the best days of my life. Thank you to everyone who has helped me in opening this second location of @/brackleybakery. Including @/mercedesamgf1 and both @/lewishamilton and @/georgerussell63. And last but not least, my wonderful loving husband. I give him a lot of shit on here, but he truly is my favorite person on the planet and I could not have done any of this without him. I love you, Schat.

Comments on this post have been limited

mercedesamgf1 Mercedes family has expanded! So so proud of you!

lewishamilton You deserve all the success that has come to you!

georgerussell63 Best croissants in the city tbh

yourusername High praise, high praise. Only higher if it were coming from Pierre pierregasly No no, he's right. They are

carmenmundt You are the best! So so many good things coming your way!

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All photos from Pinterest, Instagram, or Google Images

#f1 fanfic #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #f1 x you #social media au #toto wolff social media au #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff

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epiicaricacy-arts · 5 months

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oh we’re still so young, desperate for attention

this was super experimental so i will talk about my process (+ clearer version) under the cut

i’ve been looking at a lot of “messier” or more textured painting styles recently and an artist that stuck out to me is clariondeluna ! they posted a self-portrait recently that i really liked and i was super interested in the brushwork seen in their work. i love all the textures and how the shapes feel so loose yet everything is so detailed.

that’s not a method for me at all!!!! i cannot paint like that at all and the stuff i like to paint is very different to theirs. which is okay!!!! i had no intention to copy this artists style so closely like with what i tried to do in my raiden painting, i just wanted to try this style out :^)

it’s been a goal of mine to avoid over-rendering like i tend to do a lot, and i think i’ve been doing good with that recently! the mindset i’ve got going on right now is that if i find myself staring at it too hard for too long, i have to leave it and move on. if there’s still something wrong with it, i can fix it later once ive got a fresh view!

i’ve been trying a lot of things with my art this year. i always try to challenge myself with each piece, and to end the year off i wanted to be as uncomfortable as i possibly could be with this painting. i let myself draw whatever i wanted because i still wanted to enjoy it, but everything i did in this process was new, including parts of the subject matter.

i’ve never drawn a head at an angle like this, and i struggle with drawing mouths open. i don’t do bold lighting like this, and if i do, it’s not fire. i’ve never drawn fire! i also rarely work with warm colours and i hate using green, so i combined those to be my colour palette. i like working cleanly so instead of having a dozen different layers for one section, each section only had 1-2 layers for rendering. instead of clipping masks i would simply paint over things loosely and clean it up later. i never like having limbs cut off in a drawing so i had his other arm go GOD knows where. i don’t like weird patterned backgrounds so i made myself figure out how to like it!

IS THIS MY FAVOURITE PIECE OF ALL TIME. no. absolutely not. but i’m very proud of how this came out with all the challenges i put on myself. i WANTED to get better at these things and be more broad with my art, both in terms of the styles and subjects i portray.

okay let’s talk about wtf this drawing is

for those who don’t know, the design in this painting is my fatui/“Father” lyney fan design (read the design post here). the concept isnt super complicated and i don’t really have much explanation for it, but i wanted to combine the story of how lyney wanted a delusion before getting his vision, fire eating circus acts and how olympic medalists will bite their medal to prove it’s real??? don’t quote me on that i’m like 75% sure that’s a thing that happens. i don’t watch sports though so im just believing someone i heard on the internet ages ago.

anyways. i think fire eating acts are cool. and i think the fact that lyney wanted a delusion is very interesting to me. scratches my brain in the right places. and yk as a magician lyneys character revolves a lot around fooling people and creating illusions so i guess what im saying here is that lyney is trying to prove to himself that this power he’s been bestowed is real. bc his whole life his only constant has been lynette so he is trying to see if he can trust this new power. cause i guess this is an alternate universe where lyney does eventually become “Father” but he never got his vision ??? idk im not making lore for this i just wanted to dress up this funny little guy.

ok i’m done

thanks for reading

here’s my dog

#my art #fanart #genshin impact #genshin fanart #lyney #genshin lyney #lyney fanart #digital art #artists on tumblr #artists of tumblr

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psuedofolio · 7 months

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This week of OCs, it's OCs from Cassiopeia Quinn. You know, that webcomic that I make over at https://www.cassiopeiaquinn.com/

Flavor Text is as follows:

1: CASSIOPEIA: Heh. 69. That's, you know... The only natural number whose square and cube use every digit from zero to nine exactly once. *Nice.*

2: An unusual example of the Vanaa species, Nimoo enjoys many human items and traditions, and few more than Halloween. Taking advantage of his malleable form allows Nimoo the chance to dress as festive gourds or a behatted occultist.

3: Despite being a near full body replacement cyborg, Zeke likes to keep most "smart applications" in his head to a minimum. A built in clock is nice for when he wants to check on the oven or the laundry, but he'll turn it off when he's lying down with some dusty old paperback.

4: Paola Feti is a model Navy officer (in a culture based on reputation, rank, and competition). Her skill at dueling hasn't actually proven her correct in any arguments, but it's definitely given her the last word more than once.

5: Madison figured she'd be happy after finishing this new kit, but all she could see are the dozen little mistakes. And they'll nag at her every time she sees it.

(we'll be past 75 characters a day next week meaning I'll be 3/4 of the way to meeting my 100 OC characters a day thread goal, let's a go)

#cassiopeia quinn #ocs #psudo comics #sketches #character design

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girlactionfigure · 3 months

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Why are there Palestinian refugees?

In the months before the British abandoned its mandate & Israel declared independence, civil war raged as Arab factions tried to prevent the Jewish state from being born.

Of course, had the Arabs agreed to the UN's partition plan, they would have had yet another state & there would have been no war in 1948.

But their goal was not another Arab state; it was to ensure there would be no Jewish state.

Meanwhile, 5 #Arab armies amassed on the borders & waited for the British to leave so they could push the Jews into the #Mediterranean Sea.

As Secretary-General of the Arab League Azzam Pasha put it on the day of the Arab #invasion:

"This will be a war of extermination & momentous massacre, which will be spoken of like the Mongolian massacres and the Crusades."

Or as the then war #criminal & fugitive #Nazi Grand Mufti Amin al-Husseini put it during the invasion:

"Murder the #Jews. Murder them all!"

But before the invasion began, & starting as early as Dec 1947, Arab officers began ordering Arab residents of specific villages to flee.

Their reasoning? Arab citizens not involved in active fighting could only: (1) "treacherously" abide the creation of a the Jewish state &/or even become citizens of same; or (2) be in the way of Arab #military deployments & potentially get caught in the crossfire.

And so, for example, on this day (March 8) in 1948, the Arab Higher Committee ordered all Arab women, children & elderly to leave Jerusalem. The order continued, "Any opposition to this order ... is an obstacle to the holy war ... & will hamper the operations of the fighters in these districts.”

In fact, the Arab Higher Committee ordered the evacuation of dozens of Arab villages between April & July of 1948 (see photo of Arab citizens fleeing below).

Meanwhile, on April 19, 1948, Jewish forces secured Tiberias, which had a population of ~6,000 #Arabs - all of whom chose to leave. In fact, they left under British military supervision.

The Jewish Community Council immediately issued a statement regarding Tiberias' Arabs:

"We did not dispossess them; they themselves chose this course ... Let no citizen touch their property."

At around this same time, in early & mid-April of 1948, an Arab faction led by Fawzi al-Qawukji was attacking Haifa & attempting to take the city. Then, rumors spread among Haifa's Arab community that Arab air forces were about to bomb the city & ~25,000 of Haifa's Arabs fled.

As U.S. Consul-General in Haifa Aubrey Lippincott noted on April 22, 1948: "local mufti-dominated Arab leaders ... [urged] all Arabs to leave the city, & large numbers did so."

On April 23, 1948, however, #Jewish forces fought back the Arab attack & retook Haifa.

Three days later, on April 26, 1948, a British police report from Haifa noted:

"[E]very effort is being made by the Jews to persuade the Arab populace to stay and carry on with their normal lives, to get their shops and businesses open and to be assured that their lives and interests will be safe."

What were some of those "efforts?"

Israel's first Prime Minister, David Ben-Gurion, sent future Prime Minister Golda Meir to Haifa with the direct instructions to "persuade the Arabs to stay."

Ms. Meir was unsuccessful, however, as Haifa's Arabs told her they feared that if they stayed, they would be branded "#traitors."

And so, another ~25,000 of Haifa's Arabs fled.

Stop me if you've heard this one before, but despite facts on the ground, Arab leaders at the #UN began demanding the end to a fake "#massacre."

Specifically, #Syria's UN Ambassador Faris al-Kouri, said the Jewish victory at Haifa was a "massacre" that provided "evidence that the '#Zionist program' is to annihilate Arabs within the Jewish state if partition is effected."

The #British were still on the ground, however, & the British Ambassador to the UN, Sir Alexander Cadogan, told the UN the very next day both that the fighting in Haifa had only begun as a result of "continuous attacks by Arabs against Jews" & that the "reports of massacres & deportations [were] erroneous."

Meanwhile, after Israel declared its independence & was invaded by five Arab armies, the newly established #IDF issued an Order on July 6, 1948, making it clear that non-combatant Arab civilians were not to be harassed or expelled, nor their villages touched.

But the Arabs were being given a very different message.

#Iraqi #PrimeMinister Nuri Said announced:

"We will smash the country with our guns & obliterate every place the Jews seek shelter in. The Arabs should conduct their wives & children to safe areas until the fighting has died down."

This used to be known. In fact, Arab leaders for years after the war had no qualms about repeating it.

For example, Syrian Prime Minister Haled al Azm later wrote:

"Since 1948, we have been demanding the return of the #refugees to their homes. But we ourselves are the ones who encouraged them to leave. Only a few months separated our call to them to leave & our appeal to the UN to resolve on their return."

Similarly, #Jordan's King Abdullah wrote:

"The tragedy of the #Palestinians was that most of their leaders had paralyzed them with false & unsubstantiated promises that they were not alone; that 80 million Arabs & 400 million #Muslims would instantly & miraculously come to their rescue."

Similarly, Edward Atiyah, Secretary of the Arab League Office in #London wrote:

"This wholesale #exodus was due partly to the belief of the Arabs, encouraged by the boastings of an unrealistic #Arabic press & the irresponsible utterances of some of the Arab leaders that it could be only a matter of weeks before the Jews were defeated by the armies of the Arab States & the #Palestinian Arabs enabled to reenter & retake possession of their country.”

Even as the war still raged on Aug 16, 1948, the Arab #Greek Orthodox Catholic Bishop of the Galilee told #Beirut newspaper Sada al-Janub:

“The refugees were confident their absence would not last long, & that they would return within a week or two ... Their leaders had promised them that the Arab Armies would crush the ’Zionist gangs’ very quickly & that there was no need for panic or fear of a long exile.”

A few months later, on Feb 19, 1949, the Jordanian newspaper Filastin confirmed:

"The Arab States encouraged the Palestine Arabs to leave their homes temporarily in order to be out of the way of the Arab invasion armies."

Even many of the Palestinian Arab refugees themselves admitted their reasons for leaving.

For example, on June 8, 1951, Habib Issa admitted to #NewYork Lebanese newspaper Al Hoda:

"Azzam Pasha assured the Arab peoples that the #occupation of Palestine & #TelAviv would be ... simple ... He pointed out that they were already on the frontiers & that all the millions the Jews had spent on land & economic development would be easy booty, for it would be a simple matter to throw Jews into the Mediterranean ... Arabs of Palestine [were told] to leave their land, homes & property & to stay temporarily in neighboring fraternal states, lest the guns of the invading Arab armies mow them down.”

Similarly, Asmaa Jabir Balasimah recalled being told by Arab leaders to "evacuate the village & return after the battle is over," & that she & others in her village left all their possessions behind "based on the assumption that we would return after a few hours."

Again, however (& most importantly), had the Arabs agreed to Partition or even agreed to negotiate different borders with Zionist leaders who begged Azzam Pasha to make any counteroffer instead of invading with #genocidal intent, there would never have been a single Palestinian #refugee.

#Education #Israel #Palestine

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zegrasdrysdale · 4 months

Note

im having a feeling that you don’t write much for this player (because he’s so underrated)

but im desperate for luca fantilli smut

like chain swinging, bruise inducing, dirty, “rough” sex.

maybe it’s ovulation- maybe it’s just me ?

idc i just need him to call me his, claim the fuck out of me 🤝

[ pent up ] l. fantilli

pairing : Luca Fantilli x fem!reader

summary : after a rough loss, Luca needs to let out some steam

warning(s) : smut ! kinda rough sex, p in v protected sex, oral (m receiving), possessiveness, pet names during sex

author’s note : i also need him to claim the fuck out of me tbh. anon you were so real for that

༺═──────────────═༻

She sat in her dorm room on campus with her laptop open and homework in front of her as she watched the Michigan boys lose their third game in a row. The horn sounded and she watched all of them basically sulk off the ice. Captain Jacob Truscott sat on the bench for an extra minute as his teammates make their way into the locker room.

It's not like they didn't play a good game tonight. They played well defensively without taking too many penalties, but puck luck was not in their favor as they lost 3 to 1 to Penn State. Several shots rung off the post and she wishes every single time that posts weren't a thing.

(Y/N) pretty sure she almost broke her desk chair every time a puck hit the post. She's surprised that she actually didn't end up breaking her chair. She did break multiple pencils in frustration.

A text comes through about forty minutes after the game ends.

luca ♡ - 10:38 pm can i come to your dorm when i drop my stuff off ? wanna see you

She doesn't say no. She can never say no to Luca Fantilli. He has this thing about him that makes it impossible for her to say no to her boyfriend.

It’s nights like tonight where she’s glad she lives in an on-campus suite with her best friend from home. Luca can come and go as he pleases without disturbing her friend since it’s just the two of them in an apartment-like suite. If he’s not at the hockey house then he’s here with his girlfriend.

She sends her friend a text to let her know that Luca is coming over. Her friend sends her back a ‘🚫👶🏼’ in reply.

Less than a half hour later, there’s a knock on the door of the suite. (Y/N) goes and answers it since she knows it’s Luca. Plus, her room is closest to the door. She’s always answering it.

When she swings the door open, a worn out Luca stands on the other side. He’s in his game day suit and Michigan beanie. He looks exhausted, yet he looks like he needs to let out some frustration at the same time.

“Hi, my love,” she softly says. “I watched the game. You guys should’ve had that.”

Luca just nods and walks past her into her bedroom.

He is definitely not happy with how that game went. He should’ve had a hat trick at least with his half a dozen shots on goal. Either the Penn State goalie had him beat or the post did.

It wasn’t an easy night for any of them. Luca takes loses like this personally.

She shuts the door and follows him into her room. She kicks the door shut behind her and Luca throws his beanie at the wall in frustration.

“It’s games like this where I wish I didn’t play this sport,” he confesses. “Half the time it’s fucking puck luck and the other half of the time it’s skill. It truly pisses me off sometimes. It’s so frustrating.”

Immediately, she’s walking up to him and sitting him on her bed. He looks up at her as she says, “Hockey is just a stupid sport. You get frustrated because you love it. You hate to love it. I understand.”

Luca plays with the hem of her Michigan hockey hoodie. “It just sucks sometimes,” he sighs. “I feel like the worst teammate when I can’t score a goal or set someone up.”

“I know,” she replies as she runs her fingers through his hair. Luca in turn slides his arms up her hoodie and pulls her in close to him so his face his buried in her stomach “Is there anything I can do to help you get out some of that frustration you’re feeling?”

He mumbles an “I don’t know” into her hoodie. It’s a lie though. She knows what he wants. She always knows what he wants after a rough game.

She leans down and presses soft kisses to the top of his head. “Let me take care of you then you can do whatever you want,” she tells him.

Before she knows it, she’s sinking down to her knees in front of him. She lands so hard on the joint that she is afraid she might’ve bruised her knees even though the floors are carpeted.

Oh well. Pain always comes before pleasure anyway.

Luca watches as she unbuckles the belt he’s wearing. She tosses it to the floor with a smile on her face. When he finally realizes what she’s doing, he kicks off his shoes and lifts his butt off the mattress so (Y/N) can get his pants off. The suit pants and boxers come off at the same time because she’s become a pro at undressing her boyfriend.

With a smile and a kiss to his thigh right above his knee, (Y/N) takes Luca’s semi in her hand. He watches her with big eyes as she slowly begins to move her hand to pump him. Soft noises pass Luca’s pretty lips as she slowly pulls him closer to an orgasm.

This usually helps Luca relax. It also sometimes ends with her being unable to walk the next day but it’s a Friday night. There are no classes tomorrow. She doesn’t even have to get out of bed if she doesn’t want to.

She glances up at Luca, whose eyes are watching her every move. She bites her bottom lip for a second before she takes him in her mouth.

Her tongue swirls around the reddening tip of his dick for a second before she put as much of him as she can into her mouth. She sucks for a second before she blows him.

“Fuck,” Luca gasps as she begins to move her head up and down. “So pretty with my dick in your mouth.” She smirks around him and takes him even further. Her hand makes up for what she can’t fit.

Luca’s fingers curl in her hair while she moves her head. One of her hands is on the base of his dick while the other snakes into her shorts so she can get pressure on her core.

Soft whines pass her lips as she uses her own fingers to work herself close to an orgasm. It’s only temporary. Her boyfriend’s fingers will replace hers shortly. She knows Luca can only last so long before he’s pinning her to the mattress.

He pulls her hair back into a makeshift ponytail in his fist. She hums at the feeling as Luca moves her at a pace he likes. He takes his time with her.

One of her fingers slides into her pussy and she whines. A part of her wishes that Luca would just get his hands on her already.

It’s like he can read her mind though because it’s not long after that when he finally speaks up.

“You look so beautiful on your knees for me, baby,” Luca pants. “Need to be inside you though.”

(Y/N) pulls back and licks away a drop of saliva that has started to roll down her chin. “Whatever you want, Luca,” she tells him. “If you need to then use me to let out some of that pent up frustration.”

His bright eyes darken and he pulls her to her feet almost immediately after the last word leaves her lips. He pushes the hoodie off of her body to reveal that she has nothing on under the hoodie except for a pair of shorts and pulls her down onto the mattress. He hovers over her and she can’t help but smile up at him.

Luca leans down and captures her lips in a bruising kiss. She hums and bucks her hips up so she can get some pressure, whatever pressure she can find on her core. He pins her hips down to the mattress for a second before a hand finds its way into her Lululemon shorts and panties.

A groan passes her lips when his fingers run through her folds. “Luca,” she mumbles. “Not tonight. Just fuck me.”

He detaches his lips from hers after a second and finds her neck. He sucks and nips at the skin on her neck right under her ear. She sighs and kisses the swell of his ear. A bright mark will be visible right where he’s nipping at and she truly does not care.

Luca could cover her entire body with marks and she’d happily show them off. She’s never been shy to admit that she is Luca’s girlfriend. Especially when other girls try to talk to him after games or on campus when going to classes.

“Already so wet for me, baby,” Luca mumbles. “This just from sucking me off?”

She nods and hums. “All for you,” she sighs. “I am yours.”

He backs away from her neck and gets on his knees between her legs. She watches as he pulls off his suit jacket and unbutton his shirt. Her eyes land on the gold chain around his neck with the number 63 resting between his collarbones. The chain that she got him last year for his birthday.

She knew he wore it, but she has never seen it on after a game. It’s rare for Luca to wear this specific chain during a game since it was a gift from her for his 21st birthday.

Since it’s on now, she knows it was the chain he wore for the game. It turns her on even more if it’s even possible.

Luca notices that she’s looking and smiles. “Wanted to sport my girl during the game tonight,” he tells her. “Just to have you close.”

His words shoot straight to her core and she pulls him down into a hot kiss. Lips are bitten, tongues are shoved into each other’s mouths. The cool 63 rests against her neck right under her chin. Despite her skin being hot, she shivers.

He peels off her shorts and panties, throwing them to the floor with the rest of their clothes. Luca breaks the kiss to reach into her bedside table to grab a condom. She bites a mark into his chest while he rips open the tiny package with his teeth and slides its content onto himself.

“Ready for me?” he questions as he comes back to hover over her. He lines himself up with her but waits until she gives him an answer. She sucks in her bottom lip and nods. “Need to hear you say it, pretty girl.”

“Fuck me before I do it myself,” is her response. Luca can’t help but laugh. She grows slightly annoyed at the fact that he isn’t blowing her back out and bucks her hips so he slides k to her.

The laughing stops and (Y/N) lets out a soft groan at the familiar stretch of Luca’s dick inside of her. She stares up at Luca and watches the 63 swings lightly in her face.

Luca pushes himself completely into her and lets her adjust to his size. He’s slightly above average, but he’s also kind of thick. It’s a lot to take sometimes and it’s why she can’t walk the next day if it’s too rough.

Right now, she’s hoping he channels all his frustration into fucking her because it’s been a little bit since they have been able to have a moment like this.

“Move, Luca,” she breathes out after a minute. “I’ve been ready for you to move for like ev- oh!”

He pulls nearly out of her before he slams into her. She lets out a loud groan and Luca covers her mouth. “Let’s not wake up your friend, yeah?” he says. “Last thing we need is for her to walk in here and see you begging me to fuck you.”

She nods and Luca uncovers her mouth. He very slowly but very deeply moves into her. Her mouth falls open and she lets her legs fall apart for him. The swinging chain moves the quicker he moves.

In a spur of the moment decision, (Y/N) leans up and softly bites the chain. Luca smiles and shakes his head before he picks up the pace.

The bed begins to creak beneath them but that doesn’t stop them. Luca’s mouth is on one of her breasts while his hand rests on the other one. She gasps when she feels him bite a mark into the skin.

“Mine,” he mumbles. “All mine.”

“All yours,” she confirms. “All yours to do whatever you want- fuck!”

Luca slams into her at the same time he reaches down between them to get his fingers on her clit. She cries out in pleasure before Luca pulls out of her. She whines at the loss of contact.

Then he turns her onto her belly and pulls her hips up to meet his. She sighs happily when he fills her up again. “Whatever I want,” he repeats into her ear. “On your knees, pretty girl. Wanna see how you look while I fuck you on your knees.”

With his help, (Y/N) rises to her knees with him still in her. He wraps an arm around her waist and lightly wraps a hand around her throat. He doesn’t put any pressure but fucks up into her. Her head falls onto his shoulder. Luca kisses her cheek.

“Such a good girl,” he praises. “Letting me do what I want with you.”

She whines in agreement as his fingers find her clit. She sighs, “Luca. Please.”

“Please what, baby,” he asks against her ear.

A sudden knot forms in the pit of her stomach. Her legs begin to shake. “Wanna come,” she pants.

Luca kisses the swell of her ear and cups one of her breasts with his free hand. “Go ahead and come,” he tells her. “I’m not that far behind you.”

It’s not long after that when she’s clenching around his dick. She cries out his name as she comes. All she wants to do is fall onto her stomach but Luca is holding her up.

She sees stars as her vision goes white. She’s pretty sure she has never come this hard in her life, but that’s the affect Luca has on her. She also realizes that she doesn’t mind being fucked on her knees. That’s a conclusion she comes to while out of it.

When she comes down from her high, she’s sprawled out on her belly. Luca is wiping her leg down with a warm rag and is leaving soft kisses on her back. “Sorry if that was too much,” he mumbles. “I just needed to let out some frustration.”

“It’s okay,” she replies. “I liked it. It wasn’t bad. Got some new marks to show off.”

Luca laughs and throws the cloth somewhere on the floor before he covers them up with the blankets on her bed. She cuddles up against her boyfriend and lays her cheek on his chest.

“You’re okay though?” she questions as she looks up at him. “I know you were upset about the loss so I just want to double check to make sure you’re okay.”

He nods and brushes her hair out of her face. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he tells her. “Frustration and anger come with the sport. The last thing I want to do is take either out on you.”

“The only time you’re ever allowed to take frustration out on me is when you’re fucking me,” she warns him. “Lay a hand on me and your ass is on the curb.”

Luca smiles. “Yes, ma’am.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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taglist : @dancerbailey3 @goldihocksrocks @love4lando

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #luca fantilli #luca fantilli x reader #luca fantilli smut #zegrasdrysdale request

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junkworldusa · 3 months

Note

HI I love my copy of Junkworld btw!! Thank you!!

Idk I might have asked you this before or someone else may have but I was wondering if you would talk some about your art practice like. Routine and the like? I think I remember you doing Lynda Barry exercises?

Well either way thank you!!!!

Oliver!!! Yes!!! I'm so glad!

I have to preface this by saying that I don't even work on art every day, much less comics. Last October I picked up knitting on a whim and spent all my free time making hats while listening to an audiobook of Moby-Dick. I made a lino print for the first time while sending out JW #1, fell in love with it, and have spent the last month or so carving and printing and experimenting. I go on painting jags, collage jags, writing jags, and I have two (2) guitars that are sitting in the corner patiently waiting for asteroid Kiana to circle back to them. I've been this way my whole life, and I am trying to work with it and not against it. HOWEVER. There is a hardcore Type A perfectionist inside me that wants nothing but consistency. This part of me abhors the flightiness, the mutations, the bouts of melancholy -- if there must be a Quest, it cries, let it be towards a singular Goal!!!!

For recovering perfectionists there really is no better teacher than Lynda Barry. She has a list of materials, she has dozens of exercises, she has you set time limits. According to her books she is quite a strict teacher in-class, demanding a lot of time, effort, care, and attention. All of this is wonderful. She boxes you in and sets you free.

"Making Comics" is the essential text. My favorite exercise is Monster Jam.

Here are a few of mine, all done left-handed to minimize the influence of the Type A chatter who lives in my brain. I have dozens and dozens of pages of these monsters. Barry recommends this specific process a lot: lay down the lines under pressure before your brain can catch up, then add color/patterns/details, under no pressure at all, while watching/listening to something you like.

There are several iterations after this - you draw their parents, an older sibling, a lover. Then you go back to the beginning and draw, in 6 panels, the story of their life. It somehow always presents itself.

As valuable as they are, I don't use these exercises to actually make comics nowadays. I use them to loosen up and activate that aforementioned feeling. Most of my comics come from doodles or notes scribbled down in a tiny notebook I carry everywhere. The process of making a longform comic is something I have bashed my head against for YEARS, and now involves divination, random image generation, a deck of Nancy cards, a lightbox, and a ton of panels chopped up and spread out on the floor so I can move them around. This is why I still only work in grids!

#2024 #not comics #thank you for the question #also happy belated birthday!!!!!

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hugshughes · 8 months

Text

my tears ricochet R. McGroarty

Rutger McGroarty x fem!reader

synopsis - Based on “my tears ricochet” by Tay obvs. Reader is on the umich soccer team and when they lose the NCAA championship game, and Rutger is there, reader is confused and sad in a way that he would come to this game after their terrible breakup.

wc - 3.0k!

contains - reader is on the umich soccer team! lightly edited! angst!!!!!!!! then a sprinkle of fluff. reader has a panic attack and has trouble breathing, crying, descriptions of a terrible breakup, kissing, happy ending, lmk!

an - this was probably the hardest one so far, other than the last great american dynasty, which i promise is coming soon! ALSO. 200 FOLLOWERS????? THANK U GUYS! I swear I’m trying to speed up the process of writing these but it’s harder than I thought. I've been getting more requests than usual lately! You guys are all so cute btw. I've gotten multiple about Behind My Back with Nolan part 2 and it's on the way! I'm so slow at writing smut. Anyways hope you enjoyyyy!

we gather here, we line up, weepin’ in a sunlit room. and if i’m on fire, you’ll be made of ashes too.

The final whistle blew, the game was over. You crouched to the ground, palm flat on the field as you wept. You could barely breathe as the UNC team flooded the field, screaming in victory, group-hugging 10 feet from you. 4-3 in overtime. You dropped to sit on the ground, arms loosely wrapped around your knees as you stared at the crowd.

The sea of Carolina blue jumping up and down, smiling, shouting. The motionless pit of maize and navy, crying, grief, disappointment. In you. They’re all disappointed in you, that’s what you tell yourself.

Your best friend sits next to you, enveloping you in a hug, you hear her whimpers, you feel her tears.

“I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head at you, hugging you tighter than ever before pulling away, holding your face, wiping your cheeks.

“No, don’t say that. This isn’t your fault. Okay? It isn’t. You scored 2 of our goals tonight, and you just did so good okay? This isn’t your fault.”

You looked at the ground, trying to catch your breath. You’re only a sophomore, you’ll have more championships to win. She didn’t though, she was a senior.

“This was just your last game, and I just- I let you down and coach and-”

“Honey, it’s okay. I’ll be okay. You cannot blame this game just on you.”

You hesitantly nod, letting her help you to your feet. The rest of your team is hugging, some crying, some seething, some trying to smile.

You run to your coach, she opens her arms wide to hug you. She’s trying to smile, trying to tell you that it’s okay as you heave out the word sorry over and over, sobbing as you try to catch your breath, to no avail.

Your chest heaves as you try to breathe, but nothing is going in or out, you’re about to have a panic attack. You grip your jersey where your heart is, the navy material soiled from tears and sweat. Your coach lets out a curse as she realizes what’s going on, your best friend sees you, running over, holding your arms, trying to calm you down.

You can’t, you were warm before, but now it’s like you’re suffocating.

“I- I can’t! Fuck, I-”

The worse you cry the less you can breathe, but the less you’re breathing the more you’re crying.

Your trainer runs over, hand on your back as she urges you off to the sidelines. You know there are dozens of cameras on you, making everything ten times worse.

It’s time for you guys to shake hands but instead, you are urged off the field, down through the tunnel, and to the locker rooms. They sit you down in your designated stall, offering water, fanning you with random papers, holding your hands, everything as you start to breathe again. When you’re finally steadily breathing again, you feel embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry! Shit- I just-”

They just shush you, hugging you tight. You, as the star player of Michigan Women’s Soccer are informed you’re doing press with your best friend, the captain, now. You almost cry again, you know someone is bound to ask about your leaving the field early.

But here you are, sitting next to your best friend, holding hands under the table for some form of stability as you look at the reporters and flashing cameras in front of you, fans behind them.

Your best friend answers the majority of the first chunk of questions, you only chiming in a few times. Your name is called by a reporter, a question just for you.

“Would you like to comment on what happened with your early departure after the game?”

You tense, your best friend’s hold on your hand tightens, comforting you as much as possible.

“Oh um, yeah. So uh, I was having some trouble breathing and stuff and I needed to go back to the locker room. I apologize if I came across as rude to any of the UNC girls, I still definitely want to congratulate them.”

The reporter nods, and you get sad smiles from almost everyone you can see. You get another question about your performance.

“I think I definitely could’ve played better, I’m disappointed in my performance tonight, I’ve apologized to teammates and coaches. I did as well as I could in the moment, Carolina is a really talented group of girls. I-”

You see him, Rutger fucking McGroaty, standing at the back of the group, Ethan, Mark, Dylan, and a few other hockey players with him. Your voice catches, and your mind is blank.

even on my worst day, did i deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me? ‘cause i loved you, i swear i loved you. ‘til my dying day.

The eye contact is full of pain, you feel your heart stutter. Your breathing that had finally started evening out is suddenly picking back up, but also somehow slowing down? It just, hurts. Why was he here? Why would he do that to you?

What was he trying to do? Was he trying to see you? Was he just trying to watch the game?

You looked to your coach, the attention of the reporters on your best friend, with pleading eyes. She nods for you to leave, and you silently thank her, slipping out of the seat and discreetly exiting the room, having to walk right by the guys, and some fans along the way. You wave at a little girl dressed head to toe in maize and blue, your jersey adorning her little body.

You crouched down next to her, letting her grab your hand.

“Hi sweetheart, how are you doing?”

She smiles brightly, making your heart swell. She has your number drawn out on her cheek, and a Michigan temporary tattoo on the other.

“I’m good! It was fun watching you play, even if you couldn’t win. I saw you crying, are you okay? You still did really really awesome, even my brother thinks so!”

She gestures to her slightly older brother, a boy who looked about 8.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be okay. Well sweetheart, if you’d like it, I would love to sign your jersey.”

Her face lights up, she squeals and hugs you, which you accept. She turns around and you sign right next to your number on her maize jersey. She thanks you and squeezes your hand while taking a picture with you. You’re finishing up with them when her brother almost shouts.

“Are those the Mich hockey guys?”

You freeze, eyes darting from the ground to the little boy and then up to Rutger's shocked face. Rutger quickly puts his fan persona on, greeting the kids.

'cause i loved you, i swear i loved you. 'til my dying day.

You realize you're position, frozen and staring at Rutger in front of all these people, and you quickly turn to go. You get about ten feet when you hear someone quietly shout your name, then twice. Someone, being Rutger. You didn't wanna talk to him. You really did want to talk to him, you just knew you couldn't.

You are in the tunnel at this point, striding a few more feet to make sure no one can see you before stopping when he says your name once again. When you turn around he stares at you silently, his eyes filled with hurt. You wish you could run into his arms, but you can't, you can't.

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace, and you're the hero flying around, saving face. and if i'm dead to you why are you at the wake?

"What are you doing here Rut?"

You could feel the tears lining your eyes, pushing to break past your waterline. He has the same tears, which hurt you even more.

"I'm sorry."

That you lost? That he came here? That he called for you? That he broke your heart?

"For what, Rutger?"

The tears were close to spilling for both of you. He lets out a shaky exhale, wiping his nose and sniffling.

"I- Um, everything? I just, I'm sorry."

cursing my name, wishing i stayed. look at how my tears ricochet.

You didn't know what to do. Part of you was about to throw yourself into his arms while another part was about to sprint as far away from him as you could.

He stood there, quickly wiping a tear that fell. In this moment, losing the game was the farthest thing from your mind. Everything in your mind was just completely overwhelmed with him. At one point he was everything to you, you knew in part of you he still was.

we gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean. some to throw, some to make a diamond ring.

When you and Rutger had broken up, it had been terrible for both of you. Rutger wasn't allowed to be alone afterward for two weeks, not that you knew that, his friends wanted to tell you and try to get you back to him but he wouldn't let them. He was too embarrassed by the idea. His friends begging for you for him because he couldn't handle a breakup? Please. What Rutger doesn't know is that you would've run straight back to him if you'd known. He was your lifeline.

Your relationship was like a dream, you'd started dating in July of 2022 and broke up the next May. You guys were inseparable, in a cute way. You guys were always there for each other, no matter what. But out of nowhere, in April, Rutger started freaking out about everything happening in his life. The team had just lost the frozen four, and he was just hurt from that and he was not himself. Even weeks after, when the other boys had seemingly gotten over it, he couldn't seem to shake the feeling in his chest.

The feeling started affecting other parts of his life, too. Specifically, your relationship. He'd become way cut off from you, and a lot more mean. It went on for three weeks before you broke up with him. You just couldn't keep trying when you were getting nothing back, even though it hurt you so badly to do it.

you know i didn't want to have to haunt you. but what a ghostly scene. you wear the same jewels that i gave you, as you bury me.

You rub your eyes before looking up from the ground to him, and then you see it. The ring he once gave you on a chain around his neck. He'd kept it when you gave it back to him.

You remember every detail about the night he gave you that ring. Where he'd taken you, how he held you in the cold of February nights in Ann Arbor. You remember his confession of love to you. How he was worried you'd think he was proposing, how he shakily opened the ring box when you got back to his room, and how he said he wanted to give it to you in your scenic snowy walk through a local park but had gotten too nervous. You remember how you kissed him, and how he brought tears to your eyes.

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace. 'cause when i'd fight, you used to tell me i was brave. and if i'm dead to you why are you at the wake? cursing my name, wishing i stayed. look at how my tears ricochet.

Him being here, crying, apologizing, you losing the game, everything was just so much, but when you looked into his eyes he was still your everything. Your boy, the one that made you fall in love with every part of him, every crack and crevice, every flaw. He was still yours, no matter if you were together or apart. And you were his too, you knew that, you both did.

You can't imagine what your friends would think if you'd told them how close you were to kissing Rutger right now. They would never believe you, not after the months you spent trying oh so hard to convince yourself you were better off without him, no matter how false that statement was.

You knew you would need him, always did. He didn't know that though, when he would stalk your social media all summer, seeing you post in your little white linen dresses, having fun at the beach with your friends, he convinced himself he'd never get another chance with you. And you knew that if he tried hard enough, he could completely win you back, 100 times over.

and i can go anywhere i want, anywhere i want, just not home. and you can aim for my heart, go for blood, but you would still miss me in your bones.

He was your safe haven, whenever you were with him everything was just good, you didn't have to worry about anything with him, he wouldn't let you. He was your person.

You just stared at him, thoughts running a thousand miles per minute. You wanted him, you needed him. You knew it, too. He was always gonna be the only man that ever came to mind when you heard a love song by Taylor Swift, the only man you thought of when you saw a husband and wife with a little baby on your for you page, the only one.

i didn't have it in myself to go with grace.

He sniffled again, and you practically lunged at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your head into the crook of his neck. You started to cry again as his arms went around your hips, holding you so tightly. He was so warm, he smelled so good, he was definitely home for you if you had one. You felt his tears fall onto the base of your neck. He was mumbling i love yous and i'm sorrys like prayers. You just said the three words back, telling him it was okay because you knew it would be. As long as you had him.

and so the battleships will sink beneath the waves. you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same. cursing my name, wishing i stayed.

You pulled away from him, just a little, his tight hold on you barely let up, he couldn't let you go. You cupped his cheeks with your hands, looking into his now bloodshot, but otherwise beautiful blue eyes. You giggled, this was so crazy, you couldn't even believe it. Your amusement at the situation must've made Rutger feel embarrassed because he shook his head from your hold and buried his head into your neck. You could see his rose tinted ears. You ran your hands through his hair.

You had not the slightest idea what this meant for you two, but it definitely felt right, like you were whole again. You knew that he would come back to your life, you always felt it. And you knew you guys were gonna have to have a serious long talk about everything, but right now it just felt so good to take solace in him, acting like you were never broken up.

you turned into your worst fears. and you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain. crossing out the good years.

If you knew one thing, it was that Rutger McGroaty was your boy, and you were his girl. No matter how much time kept you apart you'd always find each other again. You loved him, too much to lose him. Especially now that you were both given another chance.

"Rut?"

He moved his head a little, adjusting his arms around your hips, grumbling out an 'mhm?'

"I'm really happy you're here."

He came out of hiding at that, smiling at you, you smiled back, partially because of how cute he looked with slightly puffy eyes and rosy cheeks.

"For real?"

You gave him a pointed look, 'duh', written all over your features. He smiled brighter, his perfect teeth on display, oh you so hoped he would never experience any teeth loss during his hockey career, even though he'd probably look fucking adorable.

"I love you. I'm not letting you down ever again, I promise. I'm gonna be perfect, okay?"

You looked at him like he had just hung the stars one by one. You shook your head mumbling something about how you loved him so much and he'd never let you down and he was already perfect in your book before pulling him into a kiss. He smiled so hard into the kiss, and so did you.

Even though you'd just lost one of the most important soccer games in your life, you'd just won someone that was more important than any soccer trophy you could ever receive.

and you're cursing my name, wishing i stayed. look at how my tears ricochet.

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