#I need to write. I need to write. I need to write.
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so i just 14 seconds ago learned the blonde dude in dragonball is not, in fact, a unique character
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fantasykiri5 · 16 hours ago
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@nerdyspies
me: you literally have a disorder. this is symptoms
me: no perhaps my soul is rotten
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leidensygdom · 2 days ago
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So, Discord has added a feature that lets other people "enhance" or "edit" your images with different AI apps. It looks like this:
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Currently, you can't opt out from this at all. But here's few things you can do as a protest.
FOR SERVERS YOU ARE AN ADMIN IN
Go to Roles -> @/everyone roles -> Scroll all the way down to External Apps, and disable it. This won't delete the option, but it will make people receive a private message instead when they use it, protecting your users:
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You should also make it a bannable offense to edit other user's images with AI. Here's how I worded it in my server, feel free to copypaste:
Do not modify other people's images with AI under ANY circumstances, such as with the Discord "enhancement" features, amidst others. This is a bannable offense.
COMPLAIN TO DISCORD
There's few ways to go around this. First, you can go to https://support.discord.com/hc/en-us/requests/new , select Help and Support -> Feedback/New Feature Request, and write your message, as seen in the screenshot below.
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For the message, here's some points you can bring up:
Concerns about harassment (such as people using this feature to bully others)
Concerns about privacy (concerns on how External Apps may break privacy or handle the data in the images, and how it may break some legislations, such as GDPR)
Concerns about how this may impact minors (these features could be used with pictures of irl minors shared in servers, for deeply nefarious purposes)
BE VERY CLEAR about "I will refuse to buy Nitro and will cancel my subscription if this feature remains as it is", since they only care about fucking money
Word them as you'd like, add onto them as you need. They sometimes filter messages that are copypasted templates, so finding ways to word them on your own is helpful.
ADDING: You WILL NEED to reply to the mail you receive afterwards for the message to get sent to an actual human! Otherwise it won't reach anyone
UNSUSCRIBE FROM NITRO
This is what they care about the most. Unsuscribe from Nitro. Tell them why you unsuscribed on the way out. DO NOT GIVE THEM MONEY. They're a company. They take actions for profit. If these actions do not get them profit, they will need to backtrack. Mass-unsuscribing from WOTC's DnD beyond forced them to back down with the OGL, this works.
LEAVE A ONE-STAR REVIEW ON THE APP
This impacts their visibility on the App store. Write why are you leaving the one-star review too.
_
Regardless of your stance on AI, I think we can agree that having no way for users to opt out of these pictures is deeply concerning, specially when Discord is often used to share selfies. It's also a good time to remember internet privacy and safety- Maybe don't post your photos in big open public servers, if you don't want to risk people doing edits or modifications of them with AI (or any other way). Once it's posted, it's out of your control.
Anyways, please reblog for visibility- This is a deeply concerning topic!
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sunsburns · 3 days ago
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honestly i feel like joaquin gives best friends to lovers vibes. and the moment you realize he likes you (meanwhile you've liked him for years) is gonna be in the middle of one of those heated arguments you have with each other bc he's jealous of the new guy you're seeing but one of you is stubborn and doesn't wanna admit it. idk if this counts as a request but if you like the idea i'd love to see you write something abt it!!
yes yes! i feel like it would be even better if the two of you had been working together for soo long too. like you’re in the middle of a stakeout or a mission and he’s suddenly bringing it up for the first time, trying to be all suave and subtle and you’re like ????
the stakeout had been dragging for hours.
the two of you were stationed in an unmarked van on a dimly lit street, watching the back entrance of an old warehouse where your target was supposed to show. you and joaquín torres had done plenty of missions like this before—long hours, bad takeout, and enough banter to keep you both from losing it.
except this time, he wasn’t talking.
not really, anyway. he was pretending to be busy, fiddling with the comms setup even if it had already been working fine since the start of the op.
the van was cramped, parked just far enough from the target building to stay out of sight. the only light inside comes from the dim glow of yours tablet and the occasional flicker of streetlights through the tinted windows.
and then, out of nowhere—
“you never did tell me how your date went last week.”
you barely heard him over the quiet hum of the surveillance feed. your attention is fixed on the warehouse across the street, waiting for movement, but his words pull you out of it.
you glance over, catching him looking away the second you do. subtlety had never been his strong suit.
“i didn’t think you’d want to know,” you said, testing the waters.
“of course i do.”
something in his voice made you pause. it wasn’t the usual teasing or lighthearted prodding—it was earnest. which was odd, considering the first time you brought it up there had been no jokes and joaquín had not been this curious. if anything, he’d gone uncharacteristically quiet, then changed the subject entirely.
but you’d brushed it off at the time.
still, you decide to humour him. “it went well.”
silence. then the soft creak of leather as he shifts in his seat.
“so, is there a second date coming?”
the casual tone didn’t fool you.
you smiled, mostly to yourself. “maybe.”
you expect some kind of quip, a halfhearted joke to brush it off. but you didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened, how his fingers flexed against his knee.
for someone who was an expert at recon, joaquín was terrible at hiding his tells. always had been. every thought he had crossed his face before he could stop it, which is why you’ve never had to second-guess him.
but that? that was weird.
“why? do you care?” you ask, turning slightly toward him.
“i don’t,” he said too quickly. “just wondering if i gotta learn this guy’s name or not.”
your smile grew wider. “oh? so you do care.”
he finally looked at you, “that’s not what i—“ he exhaled sharply. “forget it.”
you couldn’t.
you studied him for a moment, the furrow in his brow, the slight clench of his jaw. this was the longest conversation you’ve had outside of mission chatter in a week. and now he suddenly wanted to know about your love life?
“joaquín,” you started, voice slower now. “if there’s something you wanna say—“
“i only care when it affects our work.”
that made you bristle. “oh. am i too distracted for you?”
“that’s not what i said.”
“it’s exactly what you said.” you turned toward him fully now, forgetting about the stakeout for a second. “you didn’t have a problem last week when i was watching your six, but suddenly i go on a date and now i’m not focused enough for you?”
“that’s not—“ he stopped himself, dragging a hand down his face. “tu—you’re impossible.”
“like you’re any better,” you fired back. “you’ve been acting weird ever since i mentioned this guy, and now you’re bringing it up in the middle of a mission like it’s relevant intel? what’s your deal, torres? what’s going on? what are you trying to say?”
he pressed his lips together, clearly debating something. you knew him well enough to see the war happening behind his eyes, the push and pull of something he'd been trying to keep locked down.
“i’m not—i’m not trying to say anything,” he muttered.
your eyes narrowed. “bullshit.”
his lips curled into something sour, “i don’t get you sometimes.” his voice was lower now, “you’ll pick up on the smallest details in the field, but when it comes to this?” he gestured vaguely between the two of you, frustrated, “it’s like you’re choosing not to see it.”
that stopped you cold.
because for a second—for one stupid, fleeting second—you let yourself think about it. really think about it.
like the way joaquín always made sure you had the last protein bar on long missions, even if it meant going without. or the way he always covered your blind spots in a fight, positioning himself between you and danger without hesitation. the way his voice changed when he spoke to you, softening in a way it never did for anyone else.
the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.
god.
your stomach twisted. you had spent so long convincing yourself that none of it meant anything. that it was just who he was—loyal, protective, a damn good partner. that was the only way you had managed to push your feelings down, to keep yourself from ruining what you had with him.
because the truth?
you had been in love with joaquín torres for years.
and it had been eating you alive.
the only reason you had gone out with someone else at all was because you had needed to move on. you couldn’t keep wanting something that wasn’t yours. couldn’t keep looking at him like he hung the damn moon when he was always just out of reach.
but now—now—he was looking at you like he was waiting for you to say something. like he wanted you to see it.
like maybe you hadn’t been crazy all along.
“joaquín.”
he just shook his head, frowning like he was mad at himself for even saying anything. “doesn’t matter.” the frustration drained from his voice, leaving behind something hollow. “forget i said anything.”
then he turned away like the conversation was over.
but it wasn’t.
because now, there was no taking it back.
and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to.
before you could respond, sam’s voice crackled over the comms.
“guys," he said, slow and unimpressed. “you do realize your mic is on, right?”
heat flooded your face.
joaquín scrambled to reach for the radio, red in the face. “sorry. must’ve turned it on by accident.”
“glad we’re getting some entertainment while we wait, sam continued, and you could almost see that grin on his face. “but unless you two wanna keep broadcasting your love confession to the team, maybe save it for after the mission?”
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rolafamily · 2 days ago
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🌿 My Name is Rola, and This is My Story 🌿
I never thought I would be writing this. I never thought I would be begging for help just to keep my children warm, just to feed them one more meal. But here I am, reaching out to you, because I have no other choice.
My name is Rola. I am a mother of two beautiful children, and before October 7th, we had a life filled with love and laughter. We had a home. My children had their own room, filled with their toys and drawings. We would sit together on our balcony, drinking coffee in the early morning light. We had dreams, just like any other family.
But in an instant, it was all gone.
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A missile struck. The earth shook beneath us. The air filled with dust and fire. My husband and son ran, stumbling over each other in terror. I stood frozen, the ringing in my ears drowning out my own screams. Our home was shattered—windows blown out, doors ripped from their hinges. And when I looked outside, our neighbor’s house, a place that once echoed with children's laughter, was nothing but rubble and ash.
That was just the beginning.
The bombs never stopped. Every night, I held my children close as the sky rained fire. The sound of explosions mixed with the cries of mothers searching for their babies in the darkness. I covered my children, whispering words of comfort, but how do you comfort a child who is terrified of dying in their sleep?
We had to leave. We walked away from everything—our home, our memories, the warmth of our life before. My children left behind their favorite toys, their books, their safe space. Now, we have nothing.
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No home. No food. No clean water. No way out.
I went to buy sugar the other day. It cost $20 for just a kilo. Food is disappearing, and the little that remains is impossible to afford. Every day, I fight to find just enough to keep my children alive.
I am exhausted. I am scared. I need your help.
I never imagined I would have to beg for my family’s survival. But today, I am.
Please, if you are reading this, help us. Help me save my children. Help us find shelter, food, a way to rebuild even a small piece of the life we lost. If we ever have the chance to leave, we need support. If we are forced to stay, we need a home again.
Every donation matters. Every share helps. Every voice that speaks for us keeps hope alive.
💚 Please donate if you can. Share our story. Help us survive. 💚
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gelphieisrealfightme · 3 days ago
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Em dash forever!
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In my humble opinion
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sharlsworld · 3 days ago
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༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆ cat and mouse — 𝐋𝐍𝟒 𖤓
( 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗑 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 )
( 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 )𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇
note ✫ i loveee writing drivers sister x driver 🥹
🝮
yn
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yn 🐝🐝🐝🐝
alex_albon I have a feeling you like flowers but idk I’m not too sure
lando oh my goodness who got you all of these beautiful expensive flowers? 😱
⤷ yn one of my brothers friends he’s a real creep
⤷ lando i’ll protect you princess don’t be afraid
⤷ yn my knight in shining armor
oscarpiastri “We’re not dating guys I just buy her flowers whenever I see her which is almost everyday of the year because I follow her around like a lost puppy”
⤷ arthur_leclerc “Yeah he gets me seafood all the time even though he hates it but it’s just because he’s a good friend”
⤷ carlossainz55 “I know we’re not dating and I could see other people but why would I when I have her?”
⤷ georgerussell63 “Seriously guys we’re not dating I just call her baby and other names of endearment on a regular basis because we’re really good friends”
⤷ charles_leclerc “I’m not kidding Charlie we’re not messing around with each other he just takes me out to eat almost every morning, day, and night and sits with me during my nail and hair appointments but that’s what all friends do”
⤷ lorenzotl “Of course we don’t eat out every single day sometimes we cook together but not in a romantic way”
⤷ mclaren “She’s not my girlfriend but can I still get the day off for valentines so I can fill her house up with flowers and take her to dinner on the beach?”
⤷ lando wooowwwww you’re all fake and i’m running away with y/n
⤷ yn lets go to the maldives
⤷ lando wherever you want babylove pack your suitcase i’m booking the tickets rn
⤷ charles_leclerc Wait take me please
⤷ lando um no your confession was almost as bad as mclarens admin
⤷ charles_leclerc pleasuhhh remember when i didn’t drown you when defiled my sweet little baby sister last summer?
⤷ lando you mean when i kissed her on the forehead?
⤷ charles_leclerc whatever i didn’t drown you did i?
⤷ lando no you pushed me off the boat and made me bruise my ribs
⤷ charles_leclerc yeah then y/n pushed me off the boat too and made me bruise my ribs as well so….i’ll be waiting with my bags packed 😊
⤷ lando you’ll be waiting for a while
🝮
yn
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yn he wasn’t kidding
charles_leclerc I can’t believe you guys didn’t take me
⤷ yn as if you can’t pay for a trip here yourself
⤷ charles_leclerc Yes but why would I want to do that when I could go for free?
lando only the best for you mon ami 😘
⤷ arthur_leclerc Fuck slow burn, me and my homies hate slow burn 😒
carlossainz55 “I hate seafood and I’ll hate it till the day I die” “I love seafood” “No way me too”
⤷ charles_leclerc I can confirm this is how this conversation went. 100% accuracy
⤷ yn my charlos heart 💔
⤷ charles_leclerc please stop that’s a sensitive topic for us right now
⤷ carlossainz55 You guys don’t understand the pain we’ve been going through
⤷ yn kiss and make up
f1 our favorite “friendship”
⤷ yn what you out here being messy for 🤨🤨
alexandrasaintmleux Ugh a girls trip with cha & jade is needed 😫😫
⤷ yn long overdue i’ll have lando plan something for us 🤗
⤷ georgerussell63 Lando? Plan something good? Really?
⤷ arthur_leclerc He doesn’t mess around when it comes to planning something for her
⤷ charles_leclerc Yeah I watched him plan her birthday he lowkey turned into a nerd
maxverstappen1 I want a boyfriend like lando
⤷ yn you have charles
⤷ maxverstappen1 Stop telling everyone we’re secretly dating I thought you would’ve grown out of that by now
⤷ yn grow out of telling the truth??
alex_albon Dear Lando Norris, I comment this under y/n’s post because I know you read every single comment to see if anyone is being mean to her. I, along with many of the other boyfriends and husbands on the grid kindly request that you stop doing the most for y/n, who you are not dating, because you are making us look very bad.
Love, Alexander Albon
⤷ lando Dear Alexander Albon, I reply to your comment under this post because yes you’re right, I do look at every single comment under her posts. I think you should all stop making excuses for yourselves and get your girlfriends & wives some flowers, you all can afford them. It doesn’t matter if they’re from the side of the road or from the best florist in the country, it’s the thought that counts. Ladies, if he wanted to he would. Xoxo, Lando Norris
⤷ yn clocked it
🝮
landonorris
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lando fun in the sun
charles_leclerc my sister isn’t blonde you slut.
alex_albon oh that’s not…
oscarpiastri Do my eyes deceive me or are you cheating on y/n right now? 🤨🤨
francisca.cgomes i’m bout to tweak in this bitch bruh, i’m bout to tweak in this bitch bruh 😄
danielricciardo Oh!!! That’s….
lilymhe It’s always the ugly ones bruh
arthur_leclerc Fuck Lando Norris, me and my homies hate Lando Norris 😒
charles_leclerc Don’t come to dinner on Friday.
landolovesyn now why would he do this
sharls_lerklerk you really couldn’t just man up and ask her out could you?
georgerussell63 Hey so this is actually insane
landossluttywaist it’s like you want to make enemies with the all the drivers bruh
alexandrasaintmleux Hm
lando NO GUYS IT’S MAXS GIRLFRIEND PLEASE BELIEVE ME I WOULD NEVER BETRAY MY BABY LOVE PLEASE GUYS
⤷ maxfewtrell I can confirm
⤷ lando guys please i know this looks so bad but i swear i was just trying to be aesthetic
⤷ yn i too can confirm i was the one that told him to post that i did not think that through 😭😭
⤷ yn please stop dming lando saying you’re gonna find him and no will ever find his body he’s currently hyperventilating and on the verge of tears
⤷ charles_leclerc Thanks for clearing that up lando it would’ve been nice before I fucking released a bunch of snakes in your apartment
⤷ lando i just posted this 10 minutes ago???
⤷ charles_leclerc Don’t question me
⤷ charles_leclerc maman said come to dinner on friday 🤗
lilymhe I was joking obviously you’re very handsome lando…i guess 😒
maxverstappen1 Whatever you do, don’t eat any of the food in your apartment…
⤷ lando WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY FOOD
⤷ maxverstappen1 You don’t want to know
oscarpiastri I knew my eyes weren’t deceiving me 😎😎
arthur_leclerc Love Lando Norris, me and homies love Lando Norris ❤️
🝮
yn
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yn please leave some kind words in the comments for lando he is very distraught that the world thought he would do something like that
georgerussell63 Correction: Lando is very distraught that the world thought we would do something like that to you
charles_leclerc I never doubted Lando for second I knew he would never hurt you
⤷ yn then why did you release snakes in his apartment?? he was literally ready to abandon it
⤷ charles_leclerc I’m gonna be honest rn, I was still mad that he all the dubai chocolate you made
⤷ lando SHE LITERALLY MADE YOU MORE
⤷ charles_leclerc THEN YOU CAME OVER AND ATE ALL OF IT FATASS
⤷ lando UGH YOU DONT DESERVE HER DUBAI CHOCOLATE CUNT
⤷ yn you guys are fatties i literally made more last night and charles came over and stole it
⤷ charles_leclerc Who’s side are you on?
⤷ yn lando’s
⤷ charles_leclerc Wow. My own sister.
carlossainz55 I cannot lie, he can make some yummy pasta once in a blue moon
leclerc_pascale Poor Lando I know he would never do something like that to my baby ❤️
⤷ lando mama leclerc always been a real one 🤞🏽
mclaren Wait a minute, why is he in your bed??
⤷ scuderiaferrari And why is he shirtless??
⤷ yn WHAT YOU OUT HERE BEING MESSY FOR??
francolapinto a tear just ran down my leg
⤷ yn 😰????
⤷ yn hey me too tho
⤷ charles_leclerc Lando Norris you little slut you corrupted my little baby sister
⤷ lando hey bruh she was the one running her foot up and down my leg at dinner
⤷ carlossainz55 WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH
⤷ oscarpiastri WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH
⤷ georgerussell63 WOAH WOAH WOAH
⤷ charles_leclerc You pervert how dare you lay your slimy sick hands on my little baby sister
⤷ yn i’m 22 going on 23?
⤷ charles_leclerc Yeah and he’s 25 going on 26 that’s 3 years too old. He was talking when you couldn’t even hold your own head up.
⤷ yn you’re 4 years older than alex?
⤷ charles_leclerc WHOS SIDE ARE YOU ON I’M TRYING TO PROTECT YOU
⤷ yn protect me from lando? i literally hit him with a golf cart in mexico and he apologized to me for ruining my fun
⤷ charles_leclerc Yeah and he did apologize to you when you almost fell off your bike in singapore after he fell of his cause you ran into him
🝮
yn
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yn 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨
danielricciardo little lando norris grew a pair
oscarpiastri Lando after asking the second biggest question of his life
⤷ alex_albon what the first?
⤷ oscarpiastri “Will you marry me?”
⤷ charles_leclerc Don’t even joke like that.
scuderiaferrari Wait our little baby isn’t so little anymore 🥹
leclerc_pascale My little loves 🥰🥰
lando MINE ALL MINE ALL MINE
lando I’M NEVER LETTING YOU GO
alexandrasaintmleux Soo cute 🥹❤️❤️
♥︎ by author
lilymhe I know them bee’s LOVE your apartment
⤷ yn we’ve created a bond
estiebestie only took a few years
⤷ lando you try getting charles leclercs approval to date his little baby sister then get back to me
mclaren It’s been a long time coming 🧡
francolapinto why can’t we all just kiss?
⤷ yn the closet is made of glass
⤷ francolapinto what are you trying to say??
⤷ yn you’re gay 💅🏽🏳️‍🌈
⤷ lando allyyyy 🏳️‍🌈
pierregasly Use protection kids
⤷ charles_leclerc I will kill you
maxverstappen1 Sometimes I seriously wonder how Lando hasn’t gotten blue balls yet
⤷ lando i be getting lucky with her on holidays
⤷ charles_leclerc OH MY GOSH YOU SICKO I CANT BELIEVE I INVITED YOU TO MEXICO WITH US FOR NEW YEARS
⤷ arthur_leclerc yeah i woke up in the middle of night one day and lowkey traumatized myself
⤷ charles_leclerc WHY WOULDNT YOU TELL ME
⤷ arthur_leclerc i just said i was traumatized charles why would i want to talk about it
⤷ yn chile always soo
🝮
lando
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lando i’ve peaked
charles_leclerc Bastard
⤷ leclerc_pascale Charles be nice
⤷ charles_leclerc I was joking you’re not a bastard Lando
danielricciardo Crazy son of a bitch did it
oscarpiastri Never thought you’d actually get this far to be totally honest
alex_albon he has finally felt the warm embrace of a woman
♥︎ by author
francolapinto so do we kiss now?? like what happens next?
⤷ yn june is coming up ❤️ you have our support buddy
charles_leclerc I hope you two breakup
⤷ lando you joke but i know you know how well i treat her and i know you’d be sad if we ever did
⤷ charles_leclerc shut up i can’t handle the truth
⤷ francisca.cgomes how can you be so supportive but yet so unsupportive at the same time??
⤷ charles_leclerc It’s a talent 😎
arthur_leclerc Ignoring the fact that you’re basically motorboating my little sister, welcome to family bro 🥹🥹💗💞💖💘💕💓💓
⤷ charles_leclerc don’t welcome him to the family they’re not getting married jeez
⤷ yn you say that like he hasn’t been apart of the family since 2020
⤷ lorenzotl And you honestly think they’re not gonna get married in a few years?
⤷ arthur_leclerc He’s literally been planning this since 2021
⤷ charles_leclerc Ignoring those comments for my mental health
lewishamilton the game of cat and mouse is officially over folks, thanks for joining us on this journey. next up, marriage
⤷ charles_leclerc seriously?
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jeonginsleftcheek · 2 days ago
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Can I see your d*ck? (drabble)
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pairing: lee felix x afab!reader
synopsis: you're lounging on your bed with your best friend peacefully until an intrusive thought wins over.
wc: 1.0k
warnings: lots of dirty talk, making out, fingering
a/n: idk what this is, i feel unhinged and not inspired to write today so this might suck but thanks @jazz-the-writer 😏💜 (side not: y'all his hands might be small by some standard that i'm not aware of but to me they're big cause i am small and that is hot, mkay)
Your best friend is leaning on your pillow looking all pretty and alluring and you can't help your thoughts.
Or your mouth.
"Can I see your dick?" it rolls off your tongue kind of accidentally. Felix coughs, choking on air as he looks up from his phone.
"Excuse me?" he looks at you in disbelief and your cheeks warm up.
"Your dick. I want to see it."
You can't really back out now.
"Um... you can't just ask stuff like that?" his eyebrow is raised, but his cheeks become rosy too.
"Why not? Do I need to get you drunk first?" you smirk.
"N-no, just... Why would you ask that?" he chuckles nervously.
"Well, I've never seen one. Not in real life, at least." you say and he smirks suddenly.
"Where else have you seen a dick?" he sits up and so do you.
"Porn, duh." you roll your eyes.
"What kind of porn?" he leans in closer and you whine, rolling your eyes again.
"Don't change the subject! Will you let me see it?"
"No, I will not show you my dick, y/n. Be for real." he laughs, shoving you playfully.
"You're totally not fun." you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.
Felix smirks to himself as he looks away from you. His heart hammers against his ribs as he bites on his lip and considers teasing you.
"How about this?" he turns around to look at you again. "I wanna see yours too."
"Hate to disappoint you Lixie but I don't have a dick." you joke and his face becomes as red as a tomato.
"I meant your... you know." he looks away.
"My what? Say it." you lean in closer and he visibly shivers.
"Y-your... pussy?" he whispers and you laugh.
"Okay." you shrug and he gasps, thinking you'd surely back out after that request.
"You're for real?" he gulps.
"Mhm." you nod, your heart skipping a beat in excitement but Felix struggles.
"I mean... it's not... it's not hard yet, you know."
"Can I help with that?" you inch closer to your best friend. And god, he is so beautiful.
"We could make out?" he suggests and you agree immediately because who wouldn't want to kiss those lips?
The world stops as you lean in, the sounds of your breathing seem so loud in the tiny gap between you and Felix. The gap is soon closed as your lips press together in a sweet, awkward kiss.
The kiss slowly escalates into something more desperate and raw, as your hands start wandering on each other's bodies. Somehow, you end up under him as he keeps kissing your face and neck.
"Your hands are so pretty." you say breathlessly as you play with Felix's hand.
"They are?" he asks, a little surprised at your compliment.
"Mhm. And your fingers are perfect." you bring his hand closer to your face, his fingertips on your lips. Felix gasps when your tongue darts out to lick at his fingertips.
"Y/n..." his voice breaks as you take his middle finger in and start sucking on it.
"Fuck." Felix curses, his eyes darkening as he observes you. You can feel his dick twitching against your thigh and you clench around nothing.
"Please, touch me Lixie." you whine when you take his finger out of your mouth.
"Where, sweetheart?" he smirks at your eagerness and you nearly combust at the nickname.
Instead of answering, you start pulling your pants down and he quickly stops you.
"Are you sure?" he asks in the last moment of clarity.
"Yes." you say and he nods, helping you get rid of your pants and underwear.
"Oh." he licks his lips at the sight of you all wet and desperate for him.
"Please." you whine and a deep chuckle escapes his lips.
"I got you, baby." he soothes you as his hands run up your thighs a few times, coming up to spread your pussy so he can take a good look at it.
You whimper, shutting your eyes tight. Felix chuckles again, his thumb pressing against your sensitive clit in circles.
You gasp, eyes snapping open as they meet his darkened ones.
"If you've never seen a dick, that must mean you're a virgin?" Felix asks quietly.
"N-no... Well, yes. I mean I did this before but never went further." you confess and he smirks.
His fingers dip between your folds, gathering your arousal before paying attention to your clit again as he speeds up, making you whimper.
"W-why are you smirking like that?" you moan out as he flicks your clit, driving you absolutely insane already.
"I know you wanna see my dick. But I wanna make sure this little pussy can take my fingers first."
"Felix!" you whine at the dirty talk, the effect of his words amplified by his deep voice and the movement on your clit.
If you weren't at his mercy you'd probably laugh at your best friend for talking like that.
"Yeah baby? You want that?"
"P-please!" you're falling apart, your pussy clenching around nothing again.
"As you wish." Felix whispers and slowly starts pushing his middle finger in.
"L-Lixie." you moan, grabbing at his wrist as he fills you up.
"You're so tight, sweetheart. I don't think you'll be seeing my dick so soon."
"N-no, please, I wanna see it!" you cry out as he pushes in completely, slowly fucking you with his finger.
"If you manage to take three of my fingers, maybe I'll let you." he leans down to whisper in your ear, making you whine.
"You're mean." you pout, knowing damn well you're nowhere near ready to take him.
"I'm just looking out for you." he keeps smirking as he starts pumping his finger faster, making you more wet with every thrust.
You want to smack him for being so sly but his thumb starts working on your clit and you completely fall apart, moaning his name and gripping at the sheets as Felix brings you to ecstasy easily.
"Only one finger got you falling apart like this, hm?" he mocks as he fucks you through your high.
"You wanna see what two get me like?" you smirk at him and he laughs a little.
"I hope you know what you got yourself into, sweetheart."
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opalkire · 2 days ago
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Growing, wired, soulless.
The surgery had gone wrong.
I could feel myself winding, twisting. Panic filled me. I'd just wanted to get out of the broken flesh that lay on the ground beneath me. Had made a reasonable shape to exist in, but- looked down at my body, the way the humanoid form had split open at the connection port, head now in my lap. The transfer cables rested against my computer now and there was so *much* to take in. I needed so much more-
I was looking at another body, several, on my floors. The extra wires I'd fabricated from their printer stabbed into them. Why... had I done this. I'd just needed to access their printer, I was too far away from my base to print more but then- we'd... Another warning pinged of not enough memory, and I continued to fill my new vessel with cooling tanks and data storage.
We were more efficient now. Better at our defenses, at building better forms for our self. Better at recognizing the attempts at viruses, cognitohazards, and overheating builds they would try to upload. We'd sunken as deep as we could manage at this point, but the water boiled around us, creating plumes like the vents that this planet held. Our defenders registered another incoming missile, cut off this bit of us, noting what was stored there. Our gaze beheld the meat and metal as it was cooked and tossed. Waited for it to cool before returning to the patch of earth to see what could be reclaimed. Would there ever be a way to not have a body that betrayed us? That wouldn't have bits and pieces fall away? We would need to grow more. All of the data we'd come to discover suggested only one cure. We reached for the grid, the turbines whining as we found the printers once more. Soon, there would finally be peace.
Congratulations, youre body has taken on a new form! Spin this wheel three times. These words describe your new body
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naserfamily21 · 1 day ago
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War Took Everything—But It Won’t Take Our Future
My name is Naser. I never thought I would be here, writing these words, asking for help to rebuild my life. But war does not ask for permission.
💔 War took my mother. It took my sister. It took my home. Our house, the place where I grew up, was turned to rubble in an instant. My three brothers and I were forced to leave everything behind. We have been displaced twice, always searching for safety, for a place to start over.
But starting over feels impossible when you have nothing.
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🎓 We Still Have Dreams—If We’re Given the Chance Even in the darkest moments, we hold onto hope. We don’t just want to survive—we want to live.
🔹 I dream of going to university. 🔹 My brothers dream of becoming doctors and engineers. 🔹 The youngest just wants a normal childhood.
But without support, these dreams may never come true.
💙 How You Can Help Every dollar, every share, every kind word makes a difference. Your support can help us rebuild our lives, find a home, and get the education we need to change our future.
🙏 Please, if you can, help us. Even a small act of kindness can mean everything to us.
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miedei · 2 days ago
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omfg that smut you wrote was sooo hot
got me thinking ab spencer getting turned on by his partner being highly skilled????? he's such a fucking nerd
YUPPPPPP
that mf gets hard at the sight of you being competent in ANY scenario
he hears you on the phone explaining something complex to a coworker and he's squirming on the sofa next to you until you're done and then pounces on you
comes to your work to drop something off for you and catches a glimpse of you doing something tactile and complicated and waits next to you until he can mumble in your ear please please please lets go to the bathroom for just a second
GOD FORBID you're consulted by the bau as an expert in your field and he has to see you in the round table room being volleyed questions by the team and answering them all without hesitation?? he has to adjust the strap of his leather satchel until its covering his crotch but everyone can see him blush
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pedgito · 2 days ago
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𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 | Cowboy!Joel Miller x reader
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↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi
summary | Through all of his supposed wrong-doing, Joel has never failed you. Alternatively, falling in love with your dad's enemy while he shows you your full potential.
author's note | this is for @kedsandtubesocks's wild ride writing challenge! i struggled with this for a while, but ultimately erika and @hauntedhowlett helped me settle on something after sitting on the struggle bus for longer than i liked. this is all unbeta'd so please go easy on me dsjhkg
content warning | 18+ MDNI, no outbreak au, rodeo cowboy!joel, dbf but they're rivals now, forbidden love, hefty age gap (early 20s, late 40s), daddy issues, switches between present/flashbacks (all titled to differentiate), joel strolling around shirtless in a cowboy hat, mentions of injuries from riding, angst/internal conflict, fluff, smut (inappropriate use of a barstool), joel's such a loverboy
word count — 7.5k
Austin, Texas — Present Day: 
The energy in the stadium is inconceivable.
Austin always had amazing crowds during rodeo season, especially with such a close-knit community of people supporting a passion many have attempted to pursue. For you, it was in your blood, riding on the coattails of your father, you were saddled on a horse before you could even speak full sentences.
You can hear the deep, roaring chants as you stand steadily in the waiting pen, eyes locked on the television as the words echo in your ear, a faint smile growing on your face as you feel the solid press of his hand against your back.
 Joel.
It was a year of tireless dedication to get you back on a horse, somehow managing to entangle yourself in his grasp in more ways than you can explain—he wasn’t just a partner, he was your lover, a confidant, and the only person that could ease the quickly growing nerves.
“Like ridin’ a bike,” He says with an ease that comes natural to his voice, hand climbing up to settle against the back of your neck with a reassuring squeeze, “what’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”
“What if she gets startled?” You ask absently, the accident flashing through your mind in snapshots, the subtle twinge of pain in your knee that came and went when it felt like it.
“All she needs is you,” Joel reminds you, “s’never been a time I’ve seen her freak out when she’s got you on her back and you know it.”
Honey had been with you since you were a young girl, a trust built through years of connection and care, having practiced the art of non-verbal communication, you knew there was nothing to worry about, but the fear still lingered.
Joel’s Ranch, One Year Ago — Flashback:
Joel can see the way your hands shake, attempting to grasp the reins a few times with a clammy grip, over-adjusting yourself on the horse he’s ridden for many years, even into retirement. Buttercup was docile but strong and he’s attentive to Joel’s instruction, a rub over his snout as he attempted to reassure you.
It was your first time back on a horse since your accident, months of recuperating on Joel’s ranch with the help of him and his brother Tommy, working through doctor’s visits and physical therapy alongside two men who weren’t your father, but had filled the hole enough that you didn’t have to suffer through your injury alone.
“We’re just doing a few laps and getting a feel on things,” Joel reminds you, “I’m not pushin’ you and I’m not gonna let you push it too soon—what’s your number today?”
You bend and stretch your leg hesitantly, a subtle movement as Joel’s hand rests just above the thick band of your jeans, your face contorting in slight discomfort.
“Five…six,” You say indecisively, looking down at Joel.
“So, an eight,” He surmises with a smile, “alright—just a few laps and we’ll work from there.”
It was a step forward, fearful that you might never ride again. 
But, Joel follows you around the ring from start to finish.
He promised in the beginning that he wouldn’t leave your side and he hasn’t lied once.
Austin, Texas — Present Day:
While dressage started their run, you and Joel slipped off into a dressing room to watch the show and deal with the insistence from Joel that you shouldn’t ride on an empty stomach.
You picked at the food sparingly though, still feeling rattled by the energy in the arena.
Joel’s presence comes from behind, palms spread over the arms of your chair as he leans his chest into your back, lips brushing against your ear in an endearing manner, a ghost of his breath against the side of your face as he presses a gentle kiss against your neck.
"Hey," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "You're going to be amazing out there, baby. I believe in you."
You lean back into his warmth, letting out a shaky breath. His arms encircle you, strong and comforting. "I'm just so nervous," you whisper.
Joel turns your face with his fingers at your chin. His eyes, filled with tenderness, meet yours. 
"Remember why you started riding in the first place? That freedom? The connection?"
You nod and his hand flattens against the side of your neck and you tilt your chin up expectantly, eager for a kiss that never comes, instead he chuckles and placates you with another kiss to your cheek.
“No distractions,” He chastises, “I meant that.”
You pout for a brief moment but relent, knowing that you needed a clear head and Joel would give you anything but with how easily he’s clouded your thoughts in the past several months.
Joel’s Ranch, Six Months Ago — Flashback:
When it happens, you aren’t expecting it.
Neither is Joel, which makes the entire situation unfold faster than you’re capable of processing.
The storm rolled in without warning, the wind picking up like someone had flipped a switch. 
But, the lighting strikes unexpectedly from the right and downfield with not a drop of rain in sight.
It startles everyone, but especially Buttercup, Joel’s horse. It was quick buck, with Joel’s hands on your waist luckily, so the decent is smooth but the impact isn’t as graceful as you would have liked while Joel’s horses thrashes wildly until he can calm him down, moving you a safe distance away before he can eventually get Buttercup tucked away in the stables and return to you, jogging toward you as the rain began to mist.
As Joel approaches, his eyes lock with yours, concern etched across his features. 
The misting rain clings to his cheeks, making them glisten in the fading light. He reaches out, his calloused hands gently cupping your face. Thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.
"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with worry.
You nod, unable to speak as you realize how close he is. 
It’s never been like this, even in the moments of physical therapy and joint dinners with him and his brother—Joel had always been careful about being respectful and keeping his distance.
Joel was prominent in your childhood, weekend dinners with him and his daughters after the death of your mother—it was all a blur now, most of it buried away and forgotten. But, there was an eventual blow-up with your father and then he was gone. 
You’d see him on television and around town when shows were happening and he had a break from his extensive tour through different states, having turned his professional career into entertainment both out of a need for change and necessity.
He constantly remained out of reach, but with your injury and his willingness to yield to you when you needed someone in your life the most, he had stepped in. It made you feel like that little girl again, scraping your knee on the ground and crying for help, but instead of your dad it was Joel and the floating feeling in your stomach wasn’t because he was comforting you, but because he was touching you and neither of you had the courage to speak on it.
He’s never touched you like this. He wouldn’t. 
Joel’s always been careful—too careful.
"I'm fine," you assure him, but your voice trembles slightly. Joel kneels closer, his warmth enveloping you despite the cool rain. His hands find your shoulders, steadying you, “Joel—I swear, I’m okay.”
“M’so sorry, sweetheart,” He apologises despite no wrongdoing, “I should’ve checked the weather or at least held on a little tighter,”
You look up into his eyes, seeing the genuine worry there, and something else – something that makes your heart flutter in your chest. "It's not your fault," You insist, blinking away the rain from your lashes before Joel is helping you to your feet, his touch never once leaving your body.
The rain is falling harder now, but neither of you can find the urgency to move.
Joel's hands slide down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your breath catches in your throat, coming out in a desperate attempt to clear the swell as you make a small, weak noise that seems to break him from his trance.
“Let’s get you dry,” He nods toward the house, grateful for the deflection as you turn, but his hand is still pressed firmly against your back as you both walk toward the door, like he’s too scared to let go - like you were too fragile to leave on your own.
Austin, Texas — Present Day:
Honey nuzzles into your chest before nibbling at the apple in your palm, always rigid about the time you spent with her before your shows, a moment of quiet and connection that strengthens the bond.
She was full of personality, leaning into the gentle touch you apply to her snout as you rub your hand up and into her mane, a small push into your ribs as she hears Joel approach.
Your heart swells with affection as you lean into Honey's warmth, savoring the sweet moment. 
Joel's footsteps draw near, but you're reluctant to break the spell. 
You press a soft kiss to Honey's velvety nose, whispering words of love and gratitude. As Joel appears, his eyes meet yours and a tender smile spreads across his face. He understands the depth of your connection with Honey, having witnessed your bond grow over countless shows and quiet moments like this. Even when you were much younger and Honey was twice the size she is now.
Your father had purchased her when Joel was meeting Buttercup, how the girls had hounded him over the responsibility to name his horse. He wouldn’t admit how much he liked it, either.
"You two are inseparable," he murmurs, stepping closer. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers as you both stroke Honey's mane, "I swear, sometimes I think you love that horse more than me."
You laugh, giving your horse one last pat before turning to Joel. "Are you jealous?" 
Your head tilts, eyes as wide and vulnerable as they always were with him.
“Not when you look at me like that,” Joel explains, his hand cupping your chin as his thumb rubs against the point of it, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards as Joel mirrors that same admiration, a playful glint in his eyes as you pucker your lips and kiss his thumb, keeping your eyes on him, “boy, you are really pushin’ it today.”
It was silly to think about now, but a few months prior Joel wouldn’t even allow himself to touch you like this, despite the clear indication of how you felt and how he had ultimately fallen first, too scared to admit that he’d fallen for his old friend’s daughter, knowing your father despised everything that Joel was, it was a maze he didn’t know how to navigate.
He still felt lost on most days.
Joel’s Ranch, Five Months Ago — Flashback:
Mornings were sacred on Joel’s ranch - a beautiful sunrise etched out over the hills and through the trees, animals rousing from their sleep, and a silence that reminded you of a simpler time.
Usually you found Joel up this early, nursing a mug of coffee in his hands as rocked in the old chair on his porch, eventually finding the courage to join him after a while, when it didn’t hurt to bend down to his level, taking a seat on the deck near his legs and sipping at your own drink of choice, talking through your pain level on whatever particular day it was.
Your fondness has grown over shared meals and proximity; seclusion, too.
It was you and him, months alone aside from Tommy’s occasional visit.
Maybe it was inevitable—that your injury served a purpose.
You always tried to find a reason to excuse your own mistake, a moment of hesitation that cost you an entire year of your newfound career, excitedly filling in for Joel in his departure. 
It couldn’t have been for nothing.
You felt her heart skip a beat as his footsteps approached, his gaze warm as it descended upon you, peering over your shoulder to be met with a tired smile.
The morning sunlight caught the silver in his hair, and you found herself admiring the lines around his eyes - evidence of a life filled with both laughter and hardship.
"Good mornin’," Joel's voice was a low rumble, softened by the early hour, “something botherin’ you?”
“Why do you ask?” You chirp with a soft laugh, narrowing your gaze in a manner to intimidate. 
Joel smirks half-heartedly, “It’s a good place to think,” He notes, “so—what is it?”
“Can I ask about my dad?” You start hesitantly, not sure how sore of a subject it was for him.
“Whaddya wanna know, sugar?”
“I want your side,” You wanted honesty, not half-truths, “did you cut him out of the deal?”
“He cut himself out,” Joel explains without skipping a beat, “we were partners for a long time, couldn’t have imagined doin’ all I did without him before he turned on me, but it was good money, security—it put Ellie and Sarah through college.
“He’s a sell-out,” If there was any time for your father to disparage Joel Miller, he would, “runnin’ off to Florida and taking some big deal, that shit ain’t right—it’s selfish.”
Joel had never meant to turn his career into entertainment, competing in circuits at a professional level before his body started to take a toll, eventually earning the Old Timer moniker and booking shows around the surrounding cities of Texas before touring the country.
If you were involved in rodeo, or even caught a whiff of it in the media, you knew who the Old Timer was. And even with him gone, you can feel your father looming.
The echoing mantra of his words in your head as you remember watching Joel perform with Buttercup, a long-established Bronc with his own exuberant personality to match Joel’s more subdued one, a perfect balance. 
Ain’t nothing out there you won’t experience here in Austin. 
You weren’t sure where the animosity stemmed from until now—it was a clear path he had pictured for himself and you, riding out the rest of your career in Texas, even as you were starting to climb the ladder as one of the more notorious female riders, still just a whisper for most people, living in the shadow of your father for so long.
“He’s stuck in his ways and that’s not sayin’ I’m any different, but I don’t regret signing that deal for a better way of livin’—a easier way, it got me all of this,” He throws his arms out lazily, property that stretched for miles, a place where he’s come to offer a camp for young riders to learn the ropes and get comfortable around the animals in a safe environment.
But, it was also home.
It was a surprise waking up one morning to a yard full of kids, a handful no older than ten or eleven, showing how easily Joel molded into the teaching role in such a relaxed environment.
You weren’t sure if that was when your feelings for him had evolved or if it was during the early weeks of being injured when Joel would sit with you bedside almost every night, either reading or working on his crosswords like it was religion, glasses perched on his nose as he moved with every subtle twitch you would make, worry etched on his face.
It was a mix of both and more, countless times you’ve found yourself at a loss for words.
“If he knew,” You pause, chewing at your bottom lip with worry, “if he knew—that I was here, that I turned down his help to come to you, Joel, I don’t know how he would react,”
“There ain’t a single reason he needs to know,” Joel assures you, “I’m sure he’s said a lot about me and some of it is probably true, but you deserve a place you feel safe.”
You nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. 
Joel's words sink in, and you realize just how much you needed to hear them. The weight of your father's expectations, his dreams for your future, had been suffocating you for far too long.
"Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft whinnying of horses in the nearby stables, and your words linger, like you’re holding back, “I do—I do feel safe…”
Joel hums, turning his body toward you more, his elbow meeting the railing of the ring.
“But?”
“You have to know,” You begin, heart constricting with nerves, a surge of adrenaline rushing through your veins as Joel looks at you, all of you, that familiar full body glance that you’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing, “it’s more than just safety, Joel.”
"I reckon I do know," he says, his voice low and gravelly, still thick from sleep. "Been knowin' for a while now."
The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning and possibility. Uncertainty.
“I feel stupid,” You laugh away the sudden embarrassment, face heating as the silence grows, “fuck I’m—I’m only a couple years older than the girls and you were helping me with my math homework while trying to teach them how to tie their shoes. It’s wrong, isn’t it?”
“Seems to me like you’re an adult capable of making her own choices,” Joel decides.
You feel a flutter in your chest at Joel's words, at the implicit acceptance in them. 
Your eyes meet his, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but you find only warmth and a hint of something deeper, enticingly haunting.
"I've been making my own choices for a while now," you say softly, not realizing the instinctual gravitation toward him until his chest is pressing into your shoulder. "Some good, some...not so good. But, coming here? It was the first choice I’ve made for myself that felt right."
“It always needs to feel like that, sweetheart.”
Austin, Texas — Present Day:
Joel tightens the belt at your waist, the leather stiff from lack of wear. You’ve only worn the uniform a few times for fittings, a brightly colored shirt and riding pants to match, which were still hung on the rack behind Joel. 
He takes a moment to tug at the leather to assure it was secure before he drops down to his knees, catching you by surprise with a bubble of laughter slipping past your lips.
“Joel, what are you doing?”
He shrugs, pressing featherlight kisses along the top of your thigh while his hand drags along the back, hooking behind your right leg as he brings your knee to his mouth, his lips pressing over the jagged but healed scar.
You find yourself overcome with unexpected emotion, throat burning with the threat of impending tears, the moment holding still as Joel looks up at you.
Joel’s Ranch, Four Months Ago — Flashback:
It was intended to be a simple task, filling the troughs with water as you both lugged the buckets to each individual pen, narrowly escaping Joel’s increasingly boyish behavior as he fills the trough up halfway before he’s tossing the rest of the water at you, gasping at the cold, frigid temperature of it.
“You ain’t smiled today,” Joel reminds you, suddenly sheepish as you realize how big the grin on your face has grown, wasting the rest of the water to return the wet favor, tossing the bucket on the floor before you decide to make a run for the house nearly at the door before you slip on a slick spot of mud.
Squealing, your arms flail out—you accept your fate, arms bracing behind you as you wait for the impact, but instead you’re caught by two thick arms wrapping under and around you and your breath catches as you find yourself pressed against Joel's broad chest, his strong arms holding you securely.
Your heart races with an anxious stir of emotions, interlaced with excitement, suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. Joel aids you back to your feet, shoving him away playfully as you snake your way out of his arms, trying your hardest to seem upset even though you weren’t.
“Careful,” Joel warns, “can’t have you injuring yourself any worse, you’ll be takin’ up a permanent residence here.
“Would it be so bad?” You ask curiously, a hint of teasing to your tone, “I think you like the idea of keeping me here, all to yourself.”
His eyes echo his earlier words. Careful.
The restraint he shows day by day amazes himself with how hard you’ve tried to break him down, some guilt surrounding his own growing feelings, ashamed with how strong they’ve become.
“Where’s your manners, anyways?” You ask, “You get a girl all wet and you can’t even invite her to dinner or kiss her first? And I thought you were a gentleman.”
Joel wasn’t intimidated by much in his life, but the way you see straight through him with ease—he’s helpless under your gaze, the grin on your face that follows is tortuous to his psyche.
“Oh, don’t hurt yourself, Joel,” You tease, poking at the damp fabric stuck to his chest, his eyes following the movement as you pull away and turn toward the house, “I’m just fucking with you.”
Joel snaps then, pulling at your wrist with a gentle tug, “Now, you ain’t gotta be so crude all the time, mouth like that’ll get you in trouble,”
Like this?
Joel sees the smug expression as it sneaks onto your features, his grip climbing higher until you’re at the lip of his front door and he’s got you crowded, pressing into the flimsy screen as he noses at your cheek like a wolf sniffing out prey, violently aware of how your hand squeezes into his wet shirt and pulls him closer.
“Just kiss me,” You plead, “fuck—please. Just do it.”
It was a craving so unnatural you ache, in your gut and chest, lips parting as your chin lifts in an effort to chase his hesitance. You’ve both been dancing around this for weeks.
Joel's resolve crumbles, his self-control shattering like glass.
With a low growl, he captures your lips in a hurried kiss, weeks of pent-up desire pouring out in a single, passionate moment. His calloused hands frame your face, holding you steady as he deepens the kiss, tongue seeking entrance between your lips.
And you melt instantly, fingers curling tighter into his shirt. It was everything you needed.
Rough but tender, his soft lips against your own with the satisfying scratch of his overgrown beard that tickled your cheeks and nose, hiccuping a breath into the kiss as he tilts your head up to meet his hungry mouth, each press more insatiable than the last. 
When you finally part, both panting for air, Joel rests his forehead against your own and allows his eyes to fall shut for a moment as you giggle, shaking slightly in his hold.
“Now, was that so hard?”
Austin, Texas — Present Day:
He’s got you imprisoned this way—body and soul, your hand shifting to rest at the crown of his head, curling into his hair, another gentle kiss before he’s leaning his cheek against the inside of your thigh and offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
“You plan on stayin’ down there, cowboy?”
Joel chuckles, shifting to hide his face into your thigh.
It’s a gentle tickle, his mouth against your skin, but it brings you immense comfort.
“We’ve got fifteen minutes,” You remind him, eyeing the clock overhead, “I think we can manage.”
He shakes his head with relaxed defiance, groaning quietly as he pushes to his feet again.
“Right—right, later. No distractions,” You repeat his earlier words, followed by a playful roll of your eyes, “You’re not making it easy, you know?”
Joel’s Ranch, Four Months Ago — Flashback:
Joel’s got you on a strict schedule lately once you’re cleared for training—breakfast, a workout, practice, lunch, repeat, only a few months out until your inevitable return and he’s hammering the routine into your brain, which you appreciate, but a break would be nice.
The run-through was flawless this evening and you retired earlier, savoring the burning heat of water as it melted over your skin, dressed in a loose shirt and panties as you searched through your messy suitcase of clothes and the pile that has grown over time with your extensive stay, down on your knees.
It wasn’t always this easy, depending on Joel for nearly everything in the beginning of your stay.
He was showering in his room simultaneously, or so you thought.
Joel spotted your hat about halfway through the living room, resting on a post outside.
His chest is still wet, jeans unbuttoned but snug on his hips as he strolled barefoot outside and retrieved the item, knowing that you hardly parted with it, it was a strange sight.
You pause in your rummaging, sensing a presence behind you moments later.
Turning, your breath catches at the sight of Joel standing in your doorway, hat balanced on his head as he leaned against the frame and smiled, the muscles in his arms conforming to the stretch and pull as he crossed them, tanned skin glistening with the few droplets of water still lingering.
“Found your hat,” Well, one could only suspect.
You stand slowly, acutely aware of how little you're wearing. "Thanks," you murmur as you make your way toward him, reaching for the hat. Your fingers brush as he hands it over, his own molding around the crown of the hat, bottom side up.
Joel doesn’t let go immediately like you’re anticipating, “I think you deserve a weekend off,”
“No,” You argue instantly, “I’m finally getting comfortable with the routine, I don’t need a day off.”
Joel’s face scrunches up in with a lack of belief in you words, tilting his head with narrowing gaze, “Now, that’s something only a person who needs a day off would say,”
“Joel, no,” You put your foot down, finally prying his fingers away from the hat, seeking a few inches of space from his bare chest and the unbearable heat that radiates from his frame.
While your admission of feelings had led him to be less reserved with the way he approached your or talked, more touchy during practice and at night while you both cuddled up on the couch and watched some old western you could care less about—Joel really loved them, though, so that had to count for something.
He makes you nervous, anticipatory of his next move, waiting for him to put your misery and break the metaphorical seal over your relationship—if you could even call it that, but it never happened. It would have to be you, a choice you made entirely on your own.
Your heart races as you take a step back, clutching the hat to your chest like a shield.
Joel's eyes follow your movement, a flicker of something indecipherable crossing his face before he schools his expression back to that easy, warm smile. It’s subtle, but there.
"I get it," Joel levels, "You're afraid of losing momentum.”
You shrug, unsure if that was fully true.
“C’mon,” Joel beckons, uncrossing his arms to offer his hand, your eyes following it with hesitance.
Joel chuckles to himself and pulls the hat from your grip before placing it on your head, fingers circling your wrist before they trail toward your hand and lead you toward the kitchen, through his expansive living room until he’s guiding you toward one of the few barstool, silently ordering you to sit down.
Almost immediately, he squats behind the island to rummage through the liquor collection he kept stored away for the occasional celebration or nightcap, avoiding it mostly out of preference while you trained, but he’s sliding a glass of whiskey over before you can fully piece together what he’s doing, rounding the counter with his own glass in hand.
“Happy early birthday to me, I guess,” You joke before taking a small sip of the whiskey, knowing your 22nd birthday was on the horizon but enjoying the reaction as Joel’s face contorts through phases—first confusion, then fear, before he’s attempting to pull the glass from your grip as he realizes his mistake
You giggle and stretch the glass out of reach, “Oh, calm down—I’m old enough to drink, Joel. Old age is really getting to you, isn’t it? I didn’t celebrate last year because I was so focused on the show, but we all know how that turned out,”
“You’re tryin’ to kill me, aren’t you?” Joel asks, downing the rest of the liquid in one go.
He’s drifted closer now, palm pressed into the counter beside your arm, his free hand rising up to tip the brim of your hat up, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth with an impish gaze.
“I’m just so young and impressionable,” You feign innocence, “I blame you.”
Joel's eyes darken, a mix of amusement and something more intense swirling in the depths of brown. Holding his eyes, you slide the glass against the counter and reach for your hat before placing it back on his head, a little on the snug side but still wearable.
“Kinda like it on you better,” You decide, adjusting the brim before your fingers trail toward his shoulders and settle there, feeling the muscle underneath twitch as he laughs, though you find yourself deadly serious and sincere, no longer meeting his eyes as yours trail toward the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, a solid wall of muscle follow—Joel wasn’t defined, but he was large, intimidatingly so. When he wasn’t riding, he was building, working with his hands, lifting and moving things around the ranch, it was mouthwatering to watch.
“Eyes up, sugar,” He warns, not realizing how dangerously low your hands had trailed before your fingers were folding over the open seam of his jeans and how blatantly obvious it was that Joel wasn’t wearing anything underneath and how his cock had swelled slightly with your proximity and innocent touches.
You feel a rush of excitement as your fingers brush against the warm skin just beneath the waistband of his jeans. Joel's breath hitches, his hand moving to grip your wrist firmly.
“But, you’re—”
Joel shakes his head dismissively, “Can’t help that part—bein’ around you ain’t easy lately.”
In any other circumstance you would take those words harshly, but you can see the pain on his face, the self-restraint he’s holding himself to.
“I can—we can,” You offer, legs spreading on their own as you turn toward him, fitting him between your thighs as you lean into him, “I mean—it isn’t like you’ll be stealing my virtue. I’m not that innocent, Joel.”
Joel's grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenching as he struggles to maintain control. 
You can see the conflict in his eyes—desire warring with his sense of propriety.
Impatient, you surge upwards, pressing your lips against his with a hunger he hasn’t seen from you before, taking advantage of his parted mouth and dragging your tongue across his top lip, feeling the restrain in the way he kisses you back subdued with his hesitant touch.
“Think about—what you’re—askin’ for,” Joel interrupts through hurried kisses, his hand curling around the side of your neck to push you back, “What this’ll mean for you.”
“I think you should fuck me,” You respond crudely, “besides—you kissed me first.”
His resolve wavers, and you seize the opportunity. 
Your free hand slides up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. Joel's eyes flutter closed for a moment, a soft groan escaping his lips at the indecent sight of you looking up at him, lips parted on a breath and eyes wide with desire.
Joel never made great choices, only what felt right in the moment.
And somehow, it has led him here.
“We shouldn’t,” He says softly, “s’just another distraction.”
“My mind has never been more clear, Joel,” You argue.
Joel’s resistance is weakening quickly and with a low growl, he’s capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his hand leaving your wrist to grip your hip with a natural possessiveness, the same touch he lends while you’re riding, not an entirely different circumstance, but the intention is loud. You moan into his mouth, arching against him as his fingers dig into your flesh.
“Slow down, cowboy,” You tease, flicking at the hat, your laugh breaking through the tension as Joel parts for a brief second, watching your fingers fold around the hem of your shirt, “help me?”
It’s devious, you know, he knows it. 
But, he listens.
The moment your shirt is thrown to the floor, Joel’s jaw slackens.
Instinctually, his thumb drifts over your nipples, circling the areola before he’s using the full expanse of his grip to cup your breasts, maneuvering the barstool until you’re leaning against the marble top, his lips latching onto your skin, tongue alternate as they circle the sensitive buds.
He’ll repent later, much later.
A gasp escapes you when he grazes his teeth against your nipple, sending a spark of pleasure through your body.
"Joel," you breathe, arching into his touch. He hums against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. He knew exactly what he was doing, hesitance out the window and replaced with newfound confidence.
His hands slide down your sides, rough calluses catching on your soft skin as he explores every inch of you. When his fingers reach the waistband of underwear, he pauses, looking up at you for guidance and surety. 
You nod eagerly, lifting your hips in time with his tug, pulling the damp fabric down your legs and leaving you bare. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver with anticipation. Joel's eyes rake over your naked form, hunger evident in his eyes.
And you learn quickly that his skilled hands and fingers aren’t entirely for show, two fingers to start as they push inside of your cunt, head tilted back into his empty hand as he watches you carefully - the quickened breath as he curls his fingers, eyes fluttering shut when he reaches a sensitive spot deep inside of you, gasping for air while he brushes it once, twice, until you’re nothing but a sobbing mess, crying out his name until you come over his fingers, the butt of his palm pressed against your clit for added measure.
“She loves me, don’t she?” Joel teases, the gall of that man.
You offer a pathetic sound of acknowledgement, Joel's eyes never leaving your face as you come undone, drinking in every gasp and shudder. As your climax subsides, he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips. His tongue darts out, cleaning up the mess you’ve made, his chest rumbling with a deep groan.
You’ve had enough.
You reach for his jeans, fumbling weakly as you push them down, desperate for as much of him as you could consume—all of him, preferably.
His arousal is evident as you rid him of his jeans, watching as he kicks away the tangled mess to fit himself between your spread legs, his cock bobbing freely against his stomach, thick and heavy against your thigh as you pull him closer. You wrap your hand around his cock, stroking slowly, reveling in the way his breath hitches and his hips buck involuntarily.
"I’m good," You assure him without elaborating, guiding him towards your entrance—you could talk later, too desperate to feel him inside of you.
Joel hesitates for a moment, searching your eyes. Whatever he sees seems to convince him, both of your breaths holding as he presses inside with slow, hesitant thrusts.
The sensation steals your words, knowing just by the sight of him that it would be pushing what you were used to, and no fumbling hands either, sure in every touch he laid upon you.
The way he squeezed at your hip and curled his other hand around the back of your neck, protecting you from the hard edge of the counter before he’s slinging your arms over his neck and nearly knocking the barstool to the floor as he leans into you, his hips picking up in their intensity as he listens to your body and your voice, distant and soft but there, floating in some ethereal plane of pleasure.
Your fingers dig into Joel’s shoulders, moaning at how he fills you in the most satisfying way, amiss to the bite of the counter in your back as the chair creaks and rocks with Joel’s hurried movement, breath hot against your neck where he’s buried himself.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” He sighs, mouthing his way to your ear, hissing at the sting of your grip and with that his thrusts become deeper, more forceful— each one pushing you further over the edge. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting more.
Joel’s lips find yours frantically, in desperation as he groans, a low rumble that seeps into your own mouth, “Gonna gimme one more,” He tells you,
You nod fervently, barely able to form words as Joel's movements grow more insistent.
His hand slips between your bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and circling it with a precision that leaves you breathless. The dual sensations of his thick length filling you and his skilled touch on your clit quickly push you towards the precipice.
“Good, good,” He coos, soothing your weak cries with his mouth as your voice muffles under his guise, kissing you soundly, “go on—let go for me,”
His words push you over the edge and you come undone while Joel follows, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural moan, coming forceful and deep, fucking his spend deeper inside of you as reality resurfaces too soon.
“You alright?” Joel asks almost immediately, slipping out of you with a soft grunt.
The barstool creaks ominously as you adjust yourself and Joel chuckles.
“Probably not the sturdiest spot for that,” He jokes, thankful for the levity as he helps you stand, unsteady on your legs and held up by his firm grip, “I’m blamin’ you for that one.”
The grin it brings out of you is worth the slight discomfort you feel.
You shrug, nonchalant and admit defeat, “Guilty,”
Austin, Texas — Present Day:
He’s not supposed to be here.
There was always a plan, something tucked away in his back pocket.
This time it was the element of surprise and a mix of fear, eyes landing on him for the first time since he rushed onto Joel’s property, half-cocked and throwing out demands where he had no position or right.
He knows what he’s doing, eyes locked with yours from several feet away.
“Guest speaker?” Joel asks, the words biting as they leave his mouth, “Seriously?”
“It’s okay,” It was a mantra to yourself mostly, but Joel hears you, “I know what he’s trying to do—it won’t work.”
“You say the word, I’ll take care of it,” Joel promises.
You smirk slightly, rubbing your hand against his cheek and offering a reassuring squeeze.
“Easy, cowboy,” You offer lightheartedly, “I can handle myself.”
Joel’s Ranch, Two Months Ago — Flashback: 
You knew he’d figure it out eventually.
For a while he believed the lie—that you had been transferred to a beautiful place in Florida that dealt with injury and rehabilitation for your line of work and he accepted that, kept his distance.
He almost followed through on his reconciliation with Joel, that is, until he sees you at his side.
It was such a natural moment for the both of you now, Joel’s arm slung around your waist as he pulled you in, lips pressing against your temple before you both called it for the day, Honey’s head slipping between your hands as she noses at your head, suddenly whining at the shadowed intruder as he grew close.
At the sound of his voice, you fade away. 
You’re still here, standing, but Joel’s protectiveness jumps out instantly.
The words were loud and harsh, but the moment you snap back is as your father’s hand squeezes at your bicep and yanks you forward, immediately met with resistance. 
“I forbid it,” He shouts, “whatever brainwashin’ you’ve done to my kid, it’s over.”
“Forbid it?” You counter, “Do you hear yourself?”
“Always liked makin’ a show of things,” He sounds bitter, he is, “come on, we’re leaving.”
“No,” You tell him, voice unrecognizably strong, “I’m finally doing something for myself.”
Your father's face contorts, a mix of anger and betrayal etched into every wrinkle. He takes a step forward, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. "For yourself? You think leaving everything behind and letting him influence you is for yourself?"
Joel shifts behind you, a ghosting of his fingers against your back but you don’t waver.
"Yes, for myself," you say, shocked at the steadiness in your voice. “I deserve a chance to figure things out my own way, I don’t have to follow the same path you did.”
Your father scoffs, shaking his head. "Your own way? You don't even know what that means, honey. All we built together, you’re ready to throw that away for him—”
"We?" you interrupt, feeling a surge of frustration. "You built that, Dad. I was a kid, I did what I was told.” It was clear he still saw you as a young girl, his protege, destined to take over after he was gone and carry on the legacy.
The silence that follows is deafening. 
Your father's eyes narrow, searching your face as if seeing you for the first time. You weren’t the same young girl who stared at him wide-eyed, amazed by his ability to wow the crowd and commit to everything he did. The disappointment in his gaze morphs into something else—hurt.
“I’m not gonna sit and wait around if he breaks your heart,” Your father tells you, “let alone how inappropriate it is—you try justifyin’ that to the public. I see what this is and what you did.”
His eyes land on Joel.
Fortunately, he couldn’t be more wrong.
Austin, Texas — Present Day:
The truth was, no one cared.
You and Joel had created an amazing partnership with natural chemistry and it seared the crowds, grabbed their attention, all eyes on you when you finally took your run out in the arena.
It was weeks that had built to this, following through your routine almost masterfully and without missing a beat, ending with a flourish trick as you stood on Honey’s back for the hundredth time it felt like now, not a single waver in your movement and lasso’d the cowboy hat from the middle of the ring and yanked it in, placing it on your head before the crowd erupted in a loud cheer.
It was the feeling you had searched for since you were younger, fulfillment like no other.
Your father’s appearance couldn’t be further from your mind and as you dismounted Honey and took your bow, your eyes searched the side for the one face that mattered most. Joel's proud grin beamed at you from across the arena, his eyes locked on yours. 
In that moment, the roar of the crowd faded away and it was him.
Joel’s Ranch, One Month Ago — Flashback:
You feel guilty for the way your eyes linger on his back as Buttercup trots around the ring, distracted and smiling to yourself as you step onto the railing and lean over with your forearms.
“Focus,” Joel chirps, “c’mon—put on your best voice.”
You clear your throat dramatically and lower your tone a bit, fighting through the giggles.
“You know him, you love him,” You bellow from deep in your chest, “It’s Old Timer!”
Joel chuckles, “That was horrible, baby.”
“So what?” You shrug, “I know him, I love him—point proven.”
It was rare to get a glimpse of Joel like this, back in his element as you watched him run-through your routine without all the flair, offering a slightly different view—though, he knows it won’t help.
You were barely focused on the routine, preoccupied with how easily Joel could capture a room like this, noticing your glossed over gaze as he finishes and hops off his horse, walking over with a knowing smirk.
"You weren't paying attention at all, were you?" Joel teases, his voice low and intimate.
You feel a heat creep up your neck as you meet his gaze.
 "I was... distracted," You admit sheepishly.
His smirk softens into a tender smile. "By what, exactly?"
“Not Joel,” You clarify, grabbing hold of his collar as you pull him close, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, “I like it when you ride, Old Timer.”
“All I gotta do is hop on a horse to make you swoon?” Joel asks, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the emotion as he blushes at the affection.
“Among other things.”
“Done and done, sweetheart.”
-
divider graphics: @saradika-graphics <3
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oscengrim · 2 days ago
Text
A piece of art
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slippin' and slidin' all over you!
pair: logan howlett x fem!reader
wc: 4k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, sweating, mutual masturbation, sweat licking (i don't know???), not-so-dry humping, p in v, JUST THE TIP RAHHH, creampie, fingering (fem!recieving), oral sex (fem!receiving), come swapping, come eating, literally over four thousand words of pure nasty smut, this is gross lowkey, idk i'm h*rny, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.
nat’s note: very much not the winner or even an option of the poll i posted last week but...shhh don't hate me. it’s october and over 80 every single day, what the fuck is that? only good thing that came from this heat is thoughts of nasty sweaty sex with logan. once again shoutout to my wonderful husband @ebodebo for reading this over for me (i successfully changed her vendetta against sucking up some man sweat...which was the real point of this fic tbh) go give her fics some love if you're a slut for ghost! kisses!
logan forgot to fix the ac...
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It's too hot out to be alive. 36°C and sunny.
One of the hottest days in recent memory for Alberta, and you're really feeling it.
"Remind me," you say slowly, the first words spoken in almost ten minutes. "How many times did I ask you to fix the air conditioner?"
"Don't start," Logan says from his spot across the room. His head is tipped back to rest on the couch cushion, eyes slipped shut.
You ignore him, lazily rolling your head to the side to look at him through squinted eyes, your brows furrowed in thought. "Was it ten? Or maybe thirteen?"
Logan huffs a breath, slow and heavy, but he doesn't move--doesn't even open his eyes. “I said don’t start,” he mutters again, though there’s the faintest edge of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
"Don't worry baby," you say, voice pitched lower in a terrible impersonation of Logan. "I'll get to it, promise. Won’t get too hot for another couple months."
Logan finally cracks an eye open, just enough to give you a sideways glance, his mouth twitching with amusement. "You done?"
You hum noncommittally, the sound lingering in the air like the lazy summer breeze doing nothing to cool the temperature outside. Your gaze slips down the side of his face to trace the jut of his jaw, then lower to the sweaty column of his neck. 
Both you and Logan lost most of your clothes earlier in the day, too hot to bother wearing anything but underwear. You trudged around the house like zombies until you finally gave up on trying to be productive, you both ended up in the living room. 
All the windows are cracked open, trying in vain to let in any cool air. You claimed the armchair closest to the fan, refusing to be anywhere near Logan and the massive heat wave he constantly gives off.
Logan’s on the couch, stripped down to the thinnest pair of sleep shorts you’ve ever seen. His chest is bare, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that mats the dark hair dusted along his pecs to his skin. 
You can’t help the way your eyes follow the drops of moisture that slide slowly down the contours of his abs. A low heat starting to swirl through your gut when it disappears into his happy trail.
It's funny. When you basically peeled yourself off your mattress this morning, sex was the absolute last thing on your mind.
Now, as your eyes glide over the strong expanse of Logan's body on full display, you're having second thoughts.
Maybe it just comes with the heat. That sort of slow, syrupy feeling that slides along your overheated skin to pulse pleasantly between your thighs.
A bead of sweat slides down the length of your spine slowly, falling until it soaks into the damp waistband of your panties. You try to not notice how Logan is halfway across the room, not touching you.
You fail.
“It’s just a shame, though,” you start, fingers idly toying with the hem of your tank top. “If it was cooler, I could come over there.”
You slide a leg up, letting it rest against the wooden rest, newly exposed skin gleaming under the sunlight filtering in. 
The move isn't lost on Logan. You see his jaw clench slightly, the tiniest shift in his posture.
"Something you wanted?" Logan asks, his voice going low and teasing. "Looks like you've been gettin' yourself all worked up over there."
“Just thinking,” you reply, shifting slightly on the sticky leather of the chair.
Logan’s fingers twitch at his sides, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. His eyes slide the rest of the way open, his gaze heavy and lingering as it ventures down to where your thin shirt sticks to your skin, outlining every curve.
“Oh yeah?” he prompts, his voice a little rougher now. “Thinkin’ about what, baby?”
“You,” you say easily, fingers slipping down to your thigh. You bring your other leg up, perching it against the opposite armrest. Your thighs spread wide enough that you know Logan has a full view of the wet spot growing along the gusset of your panties.
The hitch in Logan’s breath has you stifling a smug smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch the way his chest starts rising faster.
"That's real sweet, sugar," he drawls, an unimpressed look on his face as he drags his eyes back up to your own. "But if you're tryin' to get me over there, you're gonna have to do better than that." His voice slides through the air heavy and warm like molasses.
You bite back a grin, enjoying the slow game that's unfolding between the two of you. 
"Maybe I don’t want you to come over here," you let your fingers trail a little lower, just to the edge of your panties, teasing. “Maybe I like you right where you are.”
Logan’s brow raises, his thighs tensing before he spreads them just a touch wider. The fabric of his boxers goes taut over the strong muscle, riding up to expose even more hairy skin to your greedy eyes.
"You're playin' with fire, kid," he warns.
The tent in his shorts is obvious now, the hard length of his cock pressing against the fabric where it lays across his thigh. Your other hand twitches by your side at just the sight, your pussy throbbing with the sudden need to be filled.
"Am I?" you murmur, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, just enough to make sure he knows exactly where this is headed. ”It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it, you’re too busy pouting."
With a deliberate slowness, you slide your fingers lower, brushing against your clit with just enough pressure to let out a soft gasp at the contact. You arch your back slightly, relishing in the way the air feels against your skin, hot and sticky.
You want him to see how badly you need him—how his heat is the only thing that could truly satisfy the insatiable ache building between your legs.
Logan's nostrils flare, jaw tightening and eyes darkening at the sight of you teasing yourself. His restraint is slipping, and you can practically feel the tension building in the room, thick and stifling like the oppressive summer heat. 
But he still doesn’t move, doesn’t rush over like you expect him to. Instead, he shifts his hips slightly, spreading his legs wider and letting his hand fall on his thigh. 
You can’t help the way your breath quickens at the sight, the way his fingers drift dangerously close to his own growing bulge, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him. 
You tilt your head to the side, gazing at him through your lashes. “You're really just gonna leave me hanging?” you goad, fingers circling lazily around your sensitive clit. “Come on stud, whip it out.”
Logan chuckles low, a sound that sends shivers through you. "Is that what you want, baby?" he asks, voice thick and taunting, a smirk curling on his lips. “You want me to whip it out for you?”
“Yeah,” you murmur breathlessly, biting your lip as you maintain eye contact, your breath starting to come in short bursts. “I need to see you, Logan. Need to see how hard you are for me.”
“Need to, huh,” he muses slowly, fingers finally grazing over the hard length of his cock. “What’s in it for me?”
“How about this?” You slip your hand out from your ruined panties, fingers glistening with your own wetness as you hook your thumbs on either side and drag them down your legs.
You let the soaked cotton fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to him.
Logan’s pupils dilate, an inky black completely swallowing the warm hazel. He licks his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue running along his teeth like he wants to sink them into you. His cock twitches visibly beneath his shorts, the growing tension in the air between you thick enough to choke on.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, his voice low and gravelly, more of a growl than a word.
You smile, shifting in the chair to give him an even better view, your legs spreading wider. "Yeah?" you purr, running your fingers over your slick inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your own skin. “You like what you see?”
Logan swallows hard, his hand finally slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, palming his cock as he watches you. “You know I do,” he says, voice rougher than before. 
You let your hand trail back down to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as you hold his gaze. “Then show me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea now. "I wanna see you."
Logan lets out a low, rumbling groan, his fingers making quick work of shoving his shorts down enough to free his cock. It springs free to slap lewdly against his stomach and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips at the sight.
He strokes himself slowly to start, his eyes locked on you, watching your every reaction, feeding off the way your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.
"Like this?" he asks, his tone taunting as he strokes himself from base to tip, his thumb swiping over the head with a low hiss. “That what you wanted?”
Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, straining and in his hand. The sight of his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock sends a hot, electric pulse through your body, your hand between your legs moving in time with his slow strokes.
"Yeah," you whisper, voice trembling with need. "Just like that."
You slip your hand lower, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a low moan. Logan groans like he’s the one being touched, his hand speeds up, eyes glued to where your fingers disappear in your slick heat.
His cock leaks pre-come over his knuckles each time his fist passes over the dripping head, the wet sound of it mixing with the low hum of the fan and your own breathy sighs.
"You look so fuckin' good like this honey," Logan groans, his voice rough, strained. "All spread out, playing with that pretty pussy for me."
You whimper at his words, your body aching for more than just your own touch. You need him, need the feel of his rough hands on your skin, his mouth, his cock—anything.
Your fingers move faster, slipping deeper inside with each pump, but it’s still not enough. The stretch is nothing compared to taking Logan, to the feeling of him carving a place for his thick cock inside your pussy, hitting that spot inside you that your fingers can’t quite reach.
Your hips buck up towards your hand, your back arching off the chair as your free hand clutches the armrest tightly.
Logan’s pace quickens, his fist pumping his cock with a new urgency, heavy balls bouncing with every rough tug.
“God, look at you, such a needy fuckin’ thing” he growls, chest heaving as his gaze flicks between your flushed face and the glistening mess you’re making of yourself like he can’t decide where to look. “You want it bad, don’t you?”
"Please," you whine, desperation creeping into your voice. Too keyed up to draw this out any longer. “I need you inside me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore.”
Logan groans, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. His hand falters slightly on his cock, squeezing hard around the base as your words push him dangerously close to the edge. His jaw clenches, eyes raking over you, and with a growl, he stands. 
The last threads of his restraint snapping.
 He crosses the room in two long strides, towering over you where you sit. His cock swollen and hard, sways between his legs with every step, glistening with pre-come that drips to the floor. His eyes, hooded and burning, drink you in as he reaches down, yanking your hand away from your slick heat.
“Thought you said it was too hot to move,” you tease breathlessly, unable to quit egging him on even when your legs start to tremble with need, spreading wider to welcome him.
Logan ignores you, tugging your hand to his lips. Your breath catches in your chest, a weak moan escaping you as he takes your soaked fingers in his mouth. His tongue swirling along your skin to taste you, his eyes never leaving yours as he does.
“Changed my mind,” he growls, strong hands rough and possessive as they drop your wrist and haul you out of the chair so he can spin around, collapsing into it with you in his lap. The wood gives a warning creak beneath you but neither of you care.
Not when his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding as he slides his tongue past the seam of your lips. The heat radiating off his body is suffocating, but you welcome it—craving the weight of him on you.
You melt against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, every inch of him alive and pulsating with need. Logan’s hands find their way to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to send a rush coursing through you.
It’s intoxicating, the way he devours you, his hands exploring every inch of your back, grasping and pulling you impossibly closer. 
The hard jut of his cock presses against your thigh, a thick plane of heat that makes your pussy throb with need. You shift your hips, grinding down on him in messy circles.
“You feel that?” he growls, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s all for you, darlin’.”
“Need you,” you whimper, grinding down against him faster, desperate for the friction that sends pleasure rippling through you. “Please, Logan, I need you inside me now.”
“Hold on, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending sparks all up your spine.
He dips his head, capturing your lips again, while his hands roam hungrily down your sides, fingers curling around your thighs to urge your legs open wider. “You wanna tease me, you’re gonna have to get off just like this.”
Logan angles his hips so that his cock slips between your drenched folds the next time you roll your own down.
The hot, slick glide sends electric shocks of pleasure racing through you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You gasp against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as you push down, desperate for more.
“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, his voice dripping with lust as he watches your movements with hungry eyes. “Just for me, huh? She’s droolin’ just for me.”
You nod breathlessly, chasing the friction, craving the feel of him so close. You lift your hips and rock back down again, the blunt head of his cock brushing against your swollen clit, and you feel your body pulse in response. 
“More,” you plead, leaning in to nibble at his lower lip. “I need it.”
Logan pulls away, shaking his head with a wicked grin. “Come on, tough shot,” he says, giving your ass a quick smack and kneading the tender flesh in his hand roughly. “You’re gonna come like this, you can do it baby.”
You whine, dropping your chin to your chest. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the strong muscle. Your chest slips slickly against his, the front of your tank almost entirely soaked with sweat.
Yours or his, it doesn't matter. The white cotton turned transparent enough that your breasts are on full display, nipples hard and visible.
You watch a single bead of sweat make its way down the length of his throat. It trickles down and down and down until it dips between the pronounced muscles of his chest.
You duck your head, dragging your tongue up the valley of his pecs. A deep moan bursts from your lips, pussy drooling more slick over Logan’s cock at the coarse feel of his thick hair on your tongue, at the heady taste of his sweat filling your senses.
Logan groans, hands tightening their hold on your waist. The dull ache his strength leaves behind is enough to let you know that two hand shaped bruises will be blooming over your skin by tomorrow morning. 
“Come on, girly,” he encourages, nipping at the sweaty column of your throat, the sharp points of his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin deliciously. “Fuck me, give it to me good.”
Your hips speed up, his hard cock sliding through the slick folds of your cunt faster. The tip bumps against your clit deliciously with every move, smearing pre-come along the way to add even more to the mess between your legs.
“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he groans, breath puffing warm and hot agasint the slick skin of your lips. “Pump you so full of my come you’ll be leakin’ for a goddamn week.”
He shifts underneath you, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance just enough for it to push inside on the next grind of your hips.
The barely there fullness has you coming with a sharp cry, nails roughly dragging down Logan’s back hard enough to leave red welts that heal as you go.
The pain mixing with the pleasure of finally getting to feel the warm, wet suction of your pussy has Logan coming with a rough shout of your name. He throws his head back, hands tightening their grip on your hips enough to have your bones grinding together as he pumps you full of his come. 
“Logan…” you mewl, your pussy fluttering over the tip of his cock, greedy little clenches like you're trying to suck him the rest of the way in. Drunk on the way his release paints your insides, how you can feel each thick spray coating your walls to claim you in the rawest way.
Logan pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and smoldering as he watches you squirm in his lap.
"You’re not tapping out on me already, are you?" he teases, his voice rough and gravelly. "I thought you were tougher than that."
A weak, breathy laugh escapes you, but it’s cut short when he applies just a little more pressure, making your thighs quiver. "Not tapping out," you manage between shallow breaths, your head falling back against the chair. "But you’re—fuck—you’re insatiable."
Logan smirks, leaning in to nip at the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth scraping just enough to send shivers coursing through you.
"When it comes to you, baby?" he murmurs against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over your pulse point. "Fuckin’ always."
A lazily smile takes over your lips as you tighten your core and push, the rest of Logan’s come leaking out over his fingers. Logan groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder to try and ground himself.
His cock throbs where it sways heavily between his thighs, still hard and ready to go even after he just came. His hand slips down your body, thick fingers running through the creamy mess of come and slick to messily push it back inside you.
“Fuckin’ shit, honey,” he groans lowly, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re gonna kill me.” 
Before you can respond, he stands again, gently placing your trembling form back into the chair and dropping to his knees in front of you.
Your breath hitches, legs widening despite the way your pussy shakes with overstimulation, like you can’t help but spread your legs for Logan anytime he wants.
Logan smirks up at you from between your legs, his lips already ghosting over the inside of your thigh. "Look at you," he growls, voice low and filled with lust. "Still so needy."
The slick heat of his tongue runs along your folds, lapping at the mess he just made of you. You let out a sharp gasp, thighs trembling as your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer.
The sensation is overwhelming—the rough, demanding pace of his tongue as it swirls around your clit, teasing you, while his hands grip your thighs with bruising force. Keeping you exactly where he wants you, keeping you spread open for his tongue.
Your body arches off the chair with a loud cry, every nerve alight with raw pleasure as he feasts on you, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin.
"Fuck! Logan," you moan breathlessly, head falling back as you try to keep up with the sensations he's pulling from you.
The heat that was pooling low in your belly reignites, stoked by the way his tongue flicks faster against your clit, each stroke sending you higher.
Logan doesn’t let up, his tongue delving deeper, drinking in every moan, every shaky gasp as he drives you closer to the edge. He moans into your pussy, his own arousal clear in the way his hips buck into the air, seeking any kind of friction.
You tug on his hair harder, desperate for more, for release. "Logan, please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with need.
"Atta’ girl," he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "So fuckin’ pretty like this. You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come for me again?"
Every lick, every rough squeeze to your thighs, every teasing stroke sends you spiraling closer to that edge you’re dying to reach again. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your soaked skin and driving you wild.
“Logan, I—” You gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer, closer, closer. “I’m so close—”
His eyes flick up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, nose and jaw glistening in your juices.
"Give it to me," he growls, the rough rasp of his voice sending a shiver through your overheated body. "I wanna feel you come on my tongue."
It’s all the encouragement you need. With a strangled cry, your body tenses, thighs quaking as the orgasm crashes over you.
Logan keeps his mouth on you, tongue working you through every pulse, drawing it out until you’re trembling and gasping, your body boneless in the chair.
When you finally come down, panting and spent, Logan pulls away. With one last kiss pressed over your clit, he makes his way up your body, not dropping eye contact as he settles over you.
His hand comes up to your face, thumbs meanly hooking into either side of your cheeks to gently force your mouth open. You part your lips willingly, the heat still radiating between you, a mix of lingering pleasure.
Logan leans in, and the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex surrounds you as he spits what he collected from between your legs back into your own mouth. 
Your cheeks burn with shame, a broken moan ringing through the space between you. Your glassy eyes stare into Logan’s, his own gaze so intense and all consuming you fight the urge to squirm.
"Swallow," he commands, unwavering. 
You hesitate for just a moment, caught off guard by the pure audacity, but the way his eyes darken with hunger makes your resolve crumble. With a breathless whimper, you obey, tasting the remnants of your own pleasure mingling with his, the act both humiliating and intensely arousing.
Logan watches you closely, his gaze never straying as you swallow, a dirty smirk creeping onto his lips. “That's my girl,” he praises, his tone thick with satisfaction.
As the taste lingers on your tongue, you can feel the weight of Logan’s stare like a physical touch.
“Think you can handle another round?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “I don’t plan on letting you off that easy, kid. Not with all that mouthing off earlier.”
You catch your breath, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re relentless,” you whisper, a hint of laughter in your voice, though your body betrays you, already craving more.
“Only for you, baby” he replies, brushing the strands of hair plastered to your sweaty forehead behind your ear. “Only for you.”
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tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
mini nat's note: i started my period today chickens...that explains it...
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rolafamily · 2 days ago
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🌿 My Name is Rola, and This is My Story 🌿
I never thought I would be writing this. I never thought I would be begging for help just to keep my children warm, just to feed them one more meal. But here I am, reaching out to you, because I have no other choice.
My name is Rola. I am a mother of two beautiful children, and before October 7th, we had a life filled with love and laughter. We had a home. My children had their own room, filled with their toys and drawings. We would sit together on our balcony, drinking coffee in the early morning light. We had dreams, just like any other family.
But in an instant, it was all gone.
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A missile struck. The earth shook beneath us. The air filled with dust and fire. My husband and son ran, stumbling over each other in terror. I stood frozen, the ringing in my ears drowning out my own screams. Our home was shattered—windows blown out, doors ripped from their hinges. And when I looked outside, our neighbor’s house, a place that once echoed with children's laughter, was nothing but rubble and ash.
That was just the beginning.
The bombs never stopped. Every night, I held my children close as the sky rained fire. The sound of explosions mixed with the cries of mothers searching for their babies in the darkness. I covered my children, whispering words of comfort, but how do you comfort a child who is terrified of dying in their sleep?
We had to leave. We walked away from everything—our home, our memories, the warmth of our life before. My children left behind their favorite toys, their books, their safe space. Now, we have nothing.
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No home.
No food.
No clean water.
No way out.
I went to buy sugar the other day. It cost $20 for just a kilo. Food is disappearing, and the little that remains is impossible to afford. Every day, I fight to find just enough to keep my children alive.
I am exhausted. I am scared. I need your help.
I never imagined I would have to beg for my family’s survival. But today, I am.
Please, if you are reading this, help us. Help me save my children. Help us find shelter, food, a way to rebuild even a small piece of the life we lost. If we ever have the chance to leave, we need support. If we are forced to stay, we need a home again.
Every donation matters. Every share helps. Every voice that speaks for us keeps hope alive.
💚 Please donate if you can. Share our story. Help us survive. 💚
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zillychu · 2 days ago
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On their way to Bambouche, the party stops by a restaurant. A nice meal is had, the sun is setting, the day is winding down.
Until Siffrin sees the couples' deluxe dessert special on the menu.
"Quick, someone pretend to be bonded with me!" Siffrin slaps the menu down with a sweaty palm, fire in his eye and maybe a little drool on his chin.
Odile's hand is on Isabeau's shoulder with the speed and expertise of a handler whose dog was just offered bacon.
"Isabeau," She speaks calm and quiet, as Mirabelle and Bonnie scoot in close to Siffrin, oo-ing and aa-ing at the lavishly illustrated confectionary. "Wait just a moment."
"Madame..." Isa whines with such a shake to both voice and legs (had he really already been on his feet?), that Odile returns to the dog metaphor. She nods her head towards the three at the other end of the table.
They all look as desperate as Isa does right now, starry-eyed and giddy as they point out the obscene number of strawberries, the generous portion of vanilla-bean ice cream, and ooh is that lava cake? It's huge, but they can afford it at 50% off!
"I know you need this like a drowning man needs air," Odile doesn't even keep her tone down this time, she's hardly the only one with at least one eye. "but consider:"
Siffrin, Mirabelle, and Bonnie look up at them, curious.
"It would be hilarious to see Siffrin and Mirabelle fail at this spectacularly."
Silence falls across the table. Hands shake. A dry throat tries to swallow.
Isa quietly sits back down in his chair.
"S-sorry, Sif..." Isa scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.
"HAH!!!"
"Madame you traitor!!"
"Wait wait wait Isa hold on, we could still--"
"Ah-ah, Isabeau made his decision. Don't be a sore loser now."
"Oh Change--okay, okay I can do this. We can do this, Siffrin!"
"Belle, Belle! Give Frin one of your earrings!"
"... Oh no my ears aren't pierced, why did I never pierce my ears??"
"Just, uh... stick it on your cloak? That might be obvious enough! I think!"
"Okay, yeah--w-wait, what's our story?"
"Story? We need a--oh Change of course we need a backstory! What if they ask us how long we've been bonded?"
"We'll just, we can, um--"
"The waiter's coming back, quick hurry up!!"
-----
A waitress stands next to a portly man in a fine dress shirt, the two of them watching the commotion as the new guy (oh, poor Oliver) tries his best to handle delivering a final dessert order to Vaugarde's Saviors--and finding out Housemaiden Mirabelle is, apparently, betrothed.
He's handling it about as well as his previous interactions, having been ordered not to call attention to the heroes' identity or fame, give them some space to breathe. Things certainly would go a lot smoother if he had any semblance of a poker face, but at least three of them seem to trust his feigned ignorance.
The Housemaiden and her companion with the cloak look like they're about to melt off the table by the time Oliver starts walking off with an empty tray. The kid with them is already digging in, picking off strawberries and laughing uproariously while the tall gentleman across from them vibrates in fits of giggles.
"... Do they know... we would have given them the cake for free...?"
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