#your brain is yours seriously fuck this idea

[yanmuffins]

Another idea if vampire!Reader managed to smuggle blood into the Manor while the batfam still don’t know they are a vampire.

Jason, eyeing Reader’s flask they are currently sipping from: “If you’re gonna drink in front of me, the least you could do is share. Now gimme”

Vampire!Reader: “wait-“

Jason: *takes the flask before reader can protest.*

Jason, taking a big swig before coughing up blood: “F*CK, READER! IS THIS BLOOD?”

Duke, walking in the room to see Jason coughing up blood while yelling at Reader: “what in the actual f*ck”

Vampire!Reader, speed walking out of the room past Duke: “Oh no, looks like Jason has started killing again and needs to be disowned!”

Jason: *gagging and spitting out as much of the blood as he can onto Bruce’s white couch cause you have to make the best of a bad situation*

-🪼

gives your brain a little kith cause you deserve it.

anon, i love this!! encapsulates the little brother energy jason has even though he’s older than vampire! reader.

and since she doesn’t know how to use forgetful mind, she’s gonna have to go the embarrassing route and beg jason to not tell anyone about the blood in the flask when he inevitably comes to demand an explanation.

jason: are you seriously asking me to forget about you drinking BLOOD out of a fucking flask on a random thursday afternoon???

reader: it’s more discreet than drinking out of a blood bag.

jason: what

reader: what

jason: were you drinking human— shit, did i drink human blood?

reader:

jason: i’m telling bruce

[revscarecrow]

hi rev i just wanted to come here and rant for a second because i feel like you'll understand. i hope you dont mind.

i'm really, REALLY frustrated that a lot of the current culture around artists complaining about ai is people being like "ugh artists are so sensitive, this use case isnt even that bad, its just funny, its just a meme, etc etc"

as an artist myself i feel like i cant even complain about it in my current online social circles because i will be met with people being like "its not that serious when its used to make memes"

i fucking hate seeing ai. period. it doesnt matter if its google gemini, or chat gpt, or some rancid ai meme, or an ai voice. i hate ALL of it because it reminds me that the ONE THING i thought couldn't be taken from me by robots (my ability to make art/video) is being taken from me in front of my eyes.

even my other artist friends partake in this culture. i seriously dont understand it. it is DEEPLY upsetting and makes me feel so hopeless and powerless.

maybe it's an "if i dont laugh, i'll cry" situation. i dont know. i want to hear your thoughts on it. much love

I talk about AI "art" on my art youtube channel. Suffice to say that generative AI and neural nets can be used for good things like mapping the human brain to help better understand the systems at work and how to help with dementia (this is a real thing that's being done and it's rad btw). While this tech does a lot of energy I think it's worth it to learn how to cure horrible diseases. The tasks that this can do helps solve problems that are either too complex or time intensive for humans to do. Art is about expression to some degree. Some people are just about the aesthics but for me personally I think that the process of coming to and finishing the idea is the art and the canvas is the record of the process happening. As such the spirit behind the creation of an object is core to the aesthic of the piece. If I make a painting out of shit or blood it's going to have a very different vibe than one done with paint. Why was that choice made? Artists make these choices at every step. Some just pick things as a default but that is in itself a choice. I use acrylic when I paint canvases because of the drying time and because I fear my cats will attempt to eat the sugary smelling liquin medium used with oil. The nature of my work area I have means the canvases I paint are smaller. These are choices that change how my work looks but also speak to who I am as a person. AI art does not consider this because how could it? It does not think. It's a disgusting similacrum of the human experience. Memes still gross me out I'll be honest.

[webanglikethat]

first of all, fuck you anon.

the whole "Radha wasn't groomed because she’s smart" argument is so incredibly stupid (I had no idea people THIS stupid even existed) and honestly, insulting not only to her character but to victim of grooming in general. just because someone is strong, smart, or independent doesn’t mean they are immune to manipulation, and to suggest otherwise is to completely misunderstand what grooming actually entails. do you know what grooming is? or did you just read some age gap dark booktok novel and think you know everything? you think because Radha is educated and knows how to lead, she’s impervious to manipulation? newsflash: that’s not how it works and to suggest otherwise is so foolish and fucking insulting. I hope you never meet a victim of grooming in real life, I pray for that — and I’m an atheist.

just because Radha’s mother, Vidya, taught her to be strong and aware of manipulation it doesn’t magically shield her from every predator who might come along. let me ask you this: do you think every smart, powerful woman is automatically immune to the nuanced, long-term manipulation that comes with grooming? do you think having a strong brain is all it takes? you will never get hurt? ever? spoiler alert: this is not about being naive, or stupid — it’s about power dynamics. age differences, control, and subtle psychological manipulation don’t always look like someone forcing you into a corner or brainwashing you into doing something. sometimes, it’s all about slowly wearing someone down and making them think they’re in control, even when they aren’t. according to psychologist Dr. Jennifer Freyd’s research on betrayal trauma, individuals who experience manipulation and betrayal, especially in close relationships, often suffer from a delayed recognition of the abuse. why? because the trauma is internalized so deeply that it takes time for the victim to even acknowledge they’ve been manipulated. mind you anon, I’m smart. I’m studying psychology. I can speak 5 languages. guess what? I was abused and manipulated. do I not exist in your world? am I not a victim? no seriously, do enlighten me.

the entire premise of grooming is that the victim doesn’t always realize it’s happening until it’s too late. and yes, Radha may have been aware of men using their power in the past, but this was a different kind of manipulation. Raj was clever enough to exploit the very things she thought were keeping her protected. and let’s not pretend the age difference doesn’t matter just because they both feel something. Raj is 30 and Radha is 18. no one is raising alarms?? so you want to tell me that a 30-year-old man, no matter how charming or appealing, is on equal footing with an 18-year-old girl trying to make her way in a world that already doesn’t want her to succeed? REALLY? do you even go to school, genuinely? like OH MY GOD. let’s make one thing clear: an 18-year-old has nowhere near the life experience or emotional maturity of a 30-year-old man, and that's exactly what makes this relationship so problematic.

at 30, Raj has had years of life experience, training, and wisdom (though apparently he’s not smart enough to realize what he’s doing is wrong). he’s been through the emotional ups and downs of adulthood, taught by the best, navigating the world who sucks his dick for simply being a man and having power, he’s most likely been through a bunch of relationships, and experienced different power structures in ways Radha—at just 18— simply hasn’t. he knows how the world works. he knows how to manipulate situations, how to get what he wants, and how to pull on someone’s heartstrings to make them believe they’re in control. no matter how strong or intelligent Radha is, she doesn’t have the same years of experience to see the emotional manipulation at play.

when you’re 18, and a man like Raj tells you he loves you, you believe it. why wouldn’t you? you haven’t been hardened by the disappointments and betrayals that come with adult relationships. at 18, love feels intense, all-consuming, and real—and it’s easy to mistake that intensity for something pure and meaningful. you WANT to believe it. you want to believe this man loves you for who you are. Radha, at 18, is still figuring out who she is. she’s in the middle of a MASSIVE transition: she’s learning how to step into leadership, abandoning childhood and entering adulthood, and figuring out how to exist in a world that already doesn’t give her the respect she deserves because she’s a woman (look at how people treat Devi despite being the heir). she is still trying to understand her own power, her own worth.

and here comes Raj, a man with years of experience, presenting himself as her lover, her confidante, and possibly her protector, feeding her the narrative she wants to hear. he knows exactly what to say to reel her in. he knows how to appeal to her vulnerabilities, how to use his experience to make her feel seen, heard, and loved in ways no one else has made her feel. and she, in her youthful exuberance and inexperience, believes every word of it. why? because she’s still learning what love should look like. for fuck’s sake I AM 18 TOO and guess what? I too am more likely to want to believe that someone older and wiser is acting in my best interest.

so anon, don’t sit there and pretend like this is some simple, equal partnership. the psychological power imbalance (hope this isn’t too complicated for your tiny brain) in this relationship is massive, and Raj knows exactly what he’s doing.

what you’re glossing over is the fact that Amrita’s fiancé is not some passive character in this scenario— he's a grown-ass man with agency. Raj is not some idk fucking helpless puppy who couldn’t help himself from falling for Radha. he’s an adult who made an active decision to continue a relationship with Radha while also being engaged to Amrita. you’re blaming Radha (18-23) for being involved with a man (30-35) who willingly pursued her and continued to do so despite being in a committed relationship. that’s on Raj. not Radha.

now, let’s talk about the so-called “friendship betrayal.” first of all, it’s never implied they’re close friends. just because you grew up around someone, it doesn’t make you close friends. this idea that Radha is some villain for having a relationship with Amrita’s fiancé is completely ignoring the bigger picture: Raj is the one who betrayed Amrita’s trust, not Radha. he is the one who made a COMMITMENT. the real question is: why is Raj still pursuing Radha while already committed to someone else? but hey, let’s just blame the teenage girl in the relationship and pretend Raj was a passive bystander who couldn’t possibly help himself, right? let’s blame the other woman! THE TEENAGER.

also, imo Radha’s decisions cannot be analyzed through a modern, 21st-century lens. she wasn’t in a position of true equality, free to make choices without external pressures. the fact that Radha is being criticized for a relationship with Raj, who is a much older man, completely disregards the power dynamics of their time. you think Indian women have it easy? the concept of a woman having autonomy over her body, her emotions, or even her relationships wasn’t something widely accepted back then, and still isn’t! (I’m desi, don’t try to argue).

AND. Oh. My. God. are you seriously going to sit here and say that making Radha a victim of grooming somehow makes her a “boring” character? that is the most tone-deaf, reductionist thing I’ve heard all year. congratulations, you won this.

-> so, what, the moment someone experiences harm or exploitation, we should just discard their emotional arc because it doesn’t fit some heroic, flawless narrative? that’s not how human beings work. just because a character experiences something painful or difficult doesn’t make them any less interesting. in fact, it makes them more multidimensional, because we’re seeing how they respond to those situations, how they grow from them, or sometimes how they struggle with them. Radha being a victim of grooming doesn’t flatten her—it makes her MORE interesting because we’re watching her navigate a complicated, manipulative relationship where she’s being used by someone more experienced and powerful and by the end of it, she even gets pregnant and WILL BE FORCED TO SLEEP WITH DEVI’S UNCLE.

the argument you’re making is essentially saying that only perfect, unscathed characters are worth caring about. that’s simply ridiculous. being a victim of grooming doesn’t make Radha “flat”. YOU are reducing her to some simplistic trope of the “innocent woman who doesn’t know better” and missing the point that her journey is about finding out what’s been done to her and coming to terms with how to reclaim her agency. THAT is the heart of character development. if Radha’s journey were simply about being a perfect, flawless leader without any emotional depth or complexity, that would make her boring.

and honestly, the fact that someone would even DARE to suggest that a character’s experiences of trauma or manipulation somehow reduce their value or depth shows an actual shocking lack of empathy. my bad for thinking you guys have a heart.

also back to “Radha is too smart to be groomed” // cults are an obvious example here — people in their 30s, 40s, and even older have been lured into these toxic environments and guess what? those people are often not some naive, uneducated “fools” but highly educated, well-established adults. I mean look at the many documented cases of people far older than Radha who have fallen victim to manipulative tactics. there are countless stories of educated, rich, established successful adults being groomed by people who know exactly how to prey on their weaknesses. manipulators don’t just target “dummies.” they target people who are seeking connection, people who are vulnerable to flattery, or people who have been conditioned to doubt their own worth or instincts. manipulation doesn’t care about your age or your IQ.

when we (and with we, I mean cunts like you) dismiss victims' stories based on ignorant assumptions—whether it's about their intelligence, age, or any other arbitrary factor—we're doing the predators' work for them. we are telling victims that their pain doesn’t matter, that their reality is somehow invalid, that they must have deserved it, or that they’re too smart to be manipulated.

so no, Radha isn't 'too smart' to be manipulated, just like no one else is 'immune' based on their age or intellect. you don’t need to be an idiot to be preyed upon. you just need to be human. so, before you throw around judgment, maybe take a minute to think about what you’re really saying about the victims of manipulation—because, honestly, the way you’re talking about Radha makes me wonder if you even understand what true strength looks like in the face of abuse or if you know what abuse even entails.

snippet from my wcs analysis

Okay so I saw the post about Radha, Raj, and Amrita and I want to say something about it but I am afraid to contradict some of the people because they seem a bit unreasonable and would attack you for your opinion. The also are insulting people who agree with it. So I am going to explain why that person said what they did or potentially why. This comes from somebody who is an avid reader I read visual novel games, fanfiction, and books I have 10 plus years of reading with critical thinking of details in stories and understanding of characters.

Okay let’s start with the whole Radha is groomed I am of the opinion that did not happen based on how the Basu family is described. You think Vidya, Doran, or Sara would allow Raj to live if any of them believed he manipulated and used Radha for his gain. Grooming victims are described as being naive easy to manipulate that is not Radha at all she is being taught how to become a leader in time when women in power were looked down upon. You think part of her education from Vidya wasn’t about being able to spot manipulations from men who would want to use her and manipulate her. You think Radha wouldn’t do anything to a man who thought he could use her as an example of why not to mess with her like what Sara did to Rati when Rati insulted Sara. To me to say that Radha is a victim of grooming by Raj is an insult to Radha and her intelligence and her capabilities of being a leader you are saying that when a good looking guy comes into the picture all of Radha’s training disappears. My interpretation of how this relationship started was that it happened when Devi was in Bombay which made Radha 18 when this relationship started I can’t find information on how old Raj is but the oldest I think he is is 30 which is not a great look but from the interaction that we see while they are at the mountain retreat is that Raj is trying to end their relationship because even though BOTH of them have feelings for one another it is not the time for their families bloodlines to unite Radha is the one who says no let’s continue this affair in secret because I am what you want and we should be together. In grooming relationships the groomer has all the power in this relationship it looks like equal partnership with them. Also we know that Sara and Radha believe that men are tools for their entertainment you think a women who think men are like animals for their amusement can be manipulated and controlled by one. You guys don’t think Sara wouldn’t kill Raj if he groomed and used Radha her twin Sara straight up killed someone to protect Radha’s secret which means that Sara knows that BOTH Radha and Raj went into this willingly together. I want everyone to know that in my opinion guys Vidya knows about Raj and Radha. When Vidya tells Raj you are practically like family to me she is saying that she knows Raj is the one who got her daughter pregnant and she is not happy at all. I believe that part of the reason there is tension between the Basus and Doobays is because Vidya knows about the affair and is mad at both Raj and Radha then that anger multiplies when Radha gets pregnant. I also believe the reason that Vidya is not passing the reins to Radha is because she knows about the affair with Raj and believes that Radha needs more training before she becomes leader of the dozen and the Basu family. Vidya loves her daughters and I get the impression that if anyone hurt or used her daughter she would kill them no matter what and I guarantee that Doran would be there to help Vidya.

Let us move on to another topic people who say that Radha owes Amrita nothing. You do remember that Amrita is/was friends with the Basu twins. Which means that Radha slept and had a relationship with a friend’s fiancé. I could never justify doing that to someone who was a friend to me. Also the reason that Amrita is not close to her friends is the fact she is engaged and is learning about her future role along with getting to know her future husband. I also don’t understand how Raj can get to know his fiancé as a person and continue seeing someone else. Raj has hurt Amrita she knows that Raj doesn’t love her and she will be trapped in an loveless marriage, but can you imagine the pain of knowing that someone who was friends with you was sleeping with your fiancé behind your back and your fiancé cares about them more than you. I also love Radha as a character but I can hate and be critical of her choices this is what makes her multi dimensional and a fascinating character making her a victim of grooming makes her more flat and not as interesting of an character. I also believe that everyone missed the point of what the poster of the post was saying Radha and Raj are BOTH to blame for this situation they both knew better but continued it and now there is fallout because of their actions. Radha and Raj both hold blame on this no one forced this relationship they both willingly went along with it. Raj being the older one who also wanted to stop his relationship with Radha should have stuck to his original intentions Raj is older and is already a leader he knew better then to continue the affair, but it doesn’t excuse Radha because when she became older and almost became the the official leader Radha knew better as well then to continue her affair with Raj. Amrita is truly the only one who has no blame in this and everyone loves to hate on her when in reality Amrita is a victim in this and is going to experience unbelievable pain and betrayal from this. Some people missed the point on the post both Radha and Raj deserve equal blame in all of this no one is saying Raj is an angel because he is not but not enough people point that out the fact that Radha is 23 when she gets pregnant she knows better then to continue this affair and face possible repercussions of her affair with Raj. People treat Radha like she was forced against her will to be in this relationship when she wasn’t at all Raj and Radha were equal partners in their relationship. Therefore the both hold equal blame for what happened. Radha is no angel and that is okay because no one is in this story is and that is what makes everything so interesting.

Well that's a big confession 🤯

Sorry but we cannot edit such a big confession, even if we try would be a mess ( fun fact: we did try and turn out to be 5 images 😬)

This is something to have in mind before sending a confession, the length of the confession shouldn't excess 100 words, thanks!

-mod lyn

[cyeayt]

Me, walking, eating breakfast, thinking unwholesome vampire related thoughts: man it’s so crazy I can think about whatever I want and no one knows I’m not just eating a bagel this is so awesome

Guy with a mic and aux, (technologically evolved): He knows your thoughts! He sees into your head and knows all! If you don’t have a God, fear! If your god doesn’t see everything, just know that the true god still knows you completely! He sees your thoughts!

Me, very grateful I’ve grown and gotten away from a mental place where that would have sent me spiraling: hey what the fuck man

[jamietwat]

Jamie would 100% make Roy a dating app profile sometime after the Keeley rejecting both of them thing to try to help him move on and meet people when clearly he’s refusing to get back out there organically and he’d think he’s being so helpful and generous and the best wingman ever. He’d handpick what he considers the sexiest pictures he can find and put a bunch of shit Roy would never say thinking he’s being accurate and helpful and not even taking the clear opportunity to make a joke account to embarrass him or anything when he easily could have just made fun of him and chosen the worst pictures possible instead

And then he would be SO offended when it doesn’t go well when Roy finds out about it and is not properly appreciative at all

Roy thinks it’s Jamie’s account when he starts showing Roy girls like what do you think of her and asking him way too many questions when Roy has no interest in participating and has no idea why the fuck Jamie seems incapable of swiping without trying to get Roy’s opinions first. Meanwhile, Roy’s giving one word answers at first and then increasingly trying to brush him off when he doesn’t stop and then he’s just flat out like “Choose your own dates and leave me the fuck out of it” and Jamie’s like “Nah, this is your account. You should have a say” and instead of being grateful and appreciative and thanking Jamie for being oh so generous with his time and energy, Roy just scowls at him and growls out “You did not make a fucking Tinder profile for me” and Jamie just smirks and decides now is not the right moment yet to mention that he actually made him accounts on like three different apps because he wasn’t sure which Roy would like best

Roy barks at him to delete it and Jamie’s all whiny like “Come on, I spent a lot of time on these and you haven’t even considered it. Plus, even if you’re not ready to date someone yet, you’d still be less miserable to be around if you at least found someone to shag in the meantime”

And Roy’s like “Delete it. I don’t want a fucking Tinder profile.” And Jamie looks at him confused for a moment and then seems to have an epiphany as he goes “Oh, do you want a Grindr one instead? Hold on a second” and he flips to a different app and Roy’s too busy being baffled by the fact that Grindr is already on Jamie’s phone and that he’s having to sign out of his own account to try to make one for Roy to even stop him before he’s already trying to sign up for a new account and Roy goes “That’s not what I meant. I don’t want any dating app”

And Jamie pauses his typing and turns and looks at him so skeptically and so judgily and suddenly somehow Roy is trying to fight for his life trying to defend why he’s not looking for some random stranger to date or fuck around with

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Bruh why are all the Style Girlies™️ on the struggle bus right now is the universe home of phobic

[cadmusfly]

I was going to make a comment about how I’m not sure I can write a indie micro TTRPG for my dead Frenchmen interest (and I don’t even write that many anyway, I have two shitposts that made finalist in the 200 word competition somehow and a shitpost about skeleton katamari using domino tiles that I keep forgetting to publish every Halloween)

But

Ney and the marshals asking Napoleon to step down would be a banger concept for a micro ttrpg

One person plays the emperor, the others play as the marshals/commanders, it’s ritualised like Polaris with specific phrases that activate other phrases, there’s flashbacks to glorious battles and ruinous defeats

It wouldn’t be playable because I am not a ttrpg designer but it would be neat!

[frogs-in3-hills]

i think i have not had many substantial observations about worm in my liveblogs despite being 3/4 of the way through because my main goal thus far has not been to experience worm, or even necessarily enjoy worm, but to finish worm. so i have decided there is only one way to solve this problem. once i finish worm i am going to start over and read worm all over again

[thefandomcassandra]

You ever think about some piece of media you consumed as a child and trace the impact it left on you like a fault line?

Yeah it's kinda humbling

[definitelynotplanetfall]

I know it's difficult for people with stockholm syndrome for ABA to understand, but words also communicate ideas on a literal level, it's not just affiliation noises. If nazis are saying "if you pay attention to patterns, you will see antisemitism is true" the answer is not to disavow ever talking about paying attention to patterns because it's antisemitic. That's just a fucking beacon of like "yes, the nazis are factually correct about the nazi shit, we are non-nazis because we ignore the truth on purpose." For people obsessed with messaging you sure have given zero thought to how rhetoric works.

Conspiracy theorists of all stripes are always talking like this, this is extremely not a new phrase or idea. "Oh it's hidden in plain sight they're practically mocking us, Just Pay Attention" and the answer was always "the patterns you think you are seeing are illusory" and not torching the idea of inductive reasoning. shit fuck you people are stupid

[histoires-en-bouteille]

OMG okay okay look listen I have been watching a lot of horror gameplays lately ("you? horror?" yeah me, horror, i know i know) and now i'm thinking.

An open-world horror survival (kinda) RPG game. Where you start by choosing a character to play from a list of characters - you have very basic infos on them, like an archive file kind of thing with a picture of them and like name + some of their faculties, and a lot of censored text.

You select one of the character, and you play as that character throughout the game. And you have like this open world and you have like. At first it seems like there isn't a "big goal" or anything, it's just you surviving and doing like missions and exploration but completely unrelated to each other, and you just kind of learn to survive within that world.

Or so you think.

Because you don't notice at first, but things are odd. I mean. Really, it's subtle. It takes you more or less time to really figure out that Soemthing Isn't Right. And I'm not talking about the fucked up creatures living Outside or the mean humans who try to rip off anything you own in exchange of shelter or food.

No, I mean odd as in that creature which has been following you for three days straight yet never once attacked or approached you. You only noticed its presence a few days ago, but really, how long has it been following you?

Odd as in, why do all of these people behave as if they were expecting you? Why are they acting so nice and charming, or so exaggerately mean, rude even? Why does it feel like everything you do in this town has been expected...scripted...?

Odd, as in these missions feel more and more related, but you can't exactly pinpoint how or why, you just have a feeling that they are. You just have that feeling and it's making you pay more and more attention to your surrounding, and as you become more aware, you develop new skills and suddenly you are able to notice things you couldn't before.

Like the engraving on these ruins. Which weren't there when you came here for your first mission. The noises outside, and the glitches that sometime interrupt the screeching and chirping. Abandonned structures that shouldn't even be here, because how? Because why?

The fact that, whenever you ask about what happened, everyone gives you the same answer.

Almost word for word.

And the more you become aware, the more these incoherence become obvious to you, and the more dangerous your expeditions and missions become as well. Slowly, the dots connect, the links become visible, the real purpose of the game unfolds before your eyes.

And given which character you pick at the beginning, you get a different ending. Because you could pick the character who will never know the truth. Or you could pick the character who does.

You could even pick the character who knew all along, yet never told you anything.

Even as a player, your fate had been written down. No matter which character you pick at the beginning, and no matter how the story unfolds, one truth remains the same, always.

You, "player", were the one being played all along.

@chaoticvampirejedi @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

[maulfucker]

I looove listening to the most pop-ish pop songs and thinking about obimaul

[cyberm0sh]

radfems are just the female equivalent of mgtow at this point

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

sonic the hedgehog tumblr dashboard simulator

0 notes

💠 extremegayr Follow

got held up in traffic today cause some noob couldnt drive the fucking loop-de-loop. lmfao fucking coward

15 notes

🎛 420zone Follow

ok but robotnik's kind of a dilf tho

🌫 wispgender Follow

he's literally a war criminal can we NOT do this tumblr

🎛 420zone Follow

📰 its-no-use Follow

@wispgender dont u literally simp for nominatus like who is one to talk

🌫 wispgender Follow

NOMINATUS ISN'T REAL????

🛜 viralsensation-destructorofworlds Follow

that you know of

🌫 wispgender Follow

what

10,672 notes

🔷 sonicinthewild

43,834 notes

☣️ lineinthesand Follow

saw sonic the hedgehog irl once. he showed up at my village, released 30 feral pickys in the town hall, paid the ice cream vendor roughly a thousand rings for a single chili dog, told me not to waste my life worrying about the little things, and then caused a fucking tornado

🧿 spiralhillspindash Follow

ok and??? you're not special

☣️ lineinthesand Follow

THIS WAS A PERSONAL POST GO AWAAAAY

173 notes

🌠 chaoinspace2electricboogaloo

sucks that sticks the badger hates all technology you know she would do NUMBERS on here

568 notes

☸️ r0u3e Follow

being an islander be like "are those the kind of eggsplosions i should worry about or the kind of eggsplosions that are gonna repair our crops, fix the economy, and bring my dead grandma back to life"

🌁 eggpawnkindathicctho Follow

being a continenter be like "oh great what primordial diety has risen from the grave to block traffic and fight a 15yo today"

🥭 chao-official

being a chao be like "chao chao chao chao chao"

🌁 eggpawnkindathicctho Follow

you said it my mans

579,056 notes

🏵 sprinkles-the-chao Follow

hold on if sonic the hedgehog is jewish then how is he santa claus

🤖 e123-omegaverse Follow

dont question him

85,628 notes

☣️ sparkygoboom Follow

hey guys real question are human/mobian relationships problematic

💠 extremegayr Follow

op is about to start the anthro church schism of the fifteenth year all over again

🛞 mobotropolis Follow

ok but in all seriousness did your mom never teach you that part of history

🎢 marxiobros Follow

someone doesn't know about the united federations public school system

🛞 mobotropolis Follow

what the fuck is a public school

⏭️ drowningmusic Follow

⚄ paradoxprism Follow

are we gonna talk about op's chaos radiation fetish

💠 extremegayr Follow

OP'S WHAT NOW

🏞 mobiancrossing Follow

ok but am i the only one who thinks that the public school system would be a good idea if handled right? like i know it's traditional to learn from your parents and then experience the world on our own from the ages of 7-13 but like combining all our knowledge and learning together doesnt seem like a bad idea

☠️ fabian-vane-number-1-hater Follow

bitch that's what the internet is for

🌅 s0leanna-apple-barrell

yeah where else am i gonna learn to make infinite chaos emeralds

❇️ freesurge Follow

"infinite chaos emeralds" that's called the phantom ruby

🏳️‍🌈 rainbowwispforgayrights Follow

everybody on this site has brain damage

❇️ freesurge Follow

yeah. from the radiation

603,573 notes

🐸 froggysfriend

caught this today

🏝 digginginthegroundfortubers

if anything happens to this blog i genuinely hope eggman blows us all up as punishment

950,420 notes

🐊 teamchaotixofficial

Hey guys! Sorry to do this again but rent's a little tight this month :( If we've ever solved a case for you guys or made you guys smile, please consider sending a ko-fi our way! we just need a few rings to get through the month <3

6 notes

🖼 give-the-koco-a-gun Follow

do we ever talk about that time the sky turned blood-red and shadow the hedgehog's demon dad descended from on high to murder us all and we only barely survived

❤️‍🔥 songoose4evr Follow

shadow fixed it it's fine

🎮 n0cturnity

yeah that was like twelve apocalypses ago move on

🎆 robotniksbignaturals Follow

kinda wanted to bang black doom tbh

🖼 give-the-koco-a-gun Follow

THE DEVIL???? FROM THE BIBLE????

🎆 robotniksbignaturals Follow

yeah. move over gayboy i'm boutta be shadow's new dad

856,301 notes

🗑️ berrybarry

starting a conspiracy that time hasnt moved since 2006

🗑️ berrybarry

why the fuck was i shadowbanned after posting this

8 notes

🤡 clownfinite Follow

tfw you finally save up enough rings for ice cream and you go outside and get hit by swatbot pieces and the rings just go fuckin everywhere

587 notes

🔷 sonicinthewild

34,452 notes

🌌 h-o-l-o-l-y-n-x

so did y'all see that genesis wave or was it just me

0 notes

🆙 planetsgiantcrack Follow

the virgin tweeter "if you use a bad word in the same tweet as the word 'cream' you get obliterated off the site" vs this chad site of "i want to put knuckles back in a microwave"

💟 presidentyaoi Follow

BACK????

69,849 notes

⬜️ chao-and-wisps-4-ever-so-cute-2 Follow

ok posting my first fanart to this site pls be nice! <3

2 notes

🌔 emeraldfwuitgummy Follow

why does tails look like he's always about to say "it fucken WIMDY"

🦊 miles-prower-official

Hello, @emeraldfwuitgummy!

I actually quote that image on a constant basis! Sonic thinks it's hilarious every time. He's quite the fan of memes, and it's nice to get a laugh out of him!

Formally,

Dr. Miles "Tails" Prower, PHD

🌔 emeraldfwuitgummy Follow

SO WAS ANYONE GOING TO TELL ME THAT TAILS WAS ON THIS FUCKING SITE OR--

🏅 iwishhumanswerereal Follow

do. do you not know he created tailblr. dude it's in the name lmao

🌔 emeraldfwuitgummy Follow

he

WHAT

🍭 milfwisp Follow

didn't eggman invent this site???

🪫 veganswatbot

THE EGG ABANDONED SCRAMBLR IN ITS TIME OF NEED AND THE FOX RAISED US FROM THE ASHES. YOU WILL NOT DISRESPECT HIM

🦊 miles-prower-official

Hello, @milfwisp and @veganswatbot!

Very good question! This site was Eggman's until I ate his bones. Thank you for engaging! :D

Formally,

Dr. Miles "Tails" Prower, PHD

🌔 emeraldfwuitgummy Follow

YOU

WHAT

🌭 sonicsays

what's not clicking

[hanasnx]

x gon' give it to ya.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: @fuckmyskywalker introduced me to the concept of talking to a pussy i think via an anakin smut post and it changed my life so i'd like to dedicate credit to the idea. WARNINGS: fem reader | sex in the suit | deadpool calls himself daddy ironically and talks to your pussy.

A deep groan reverberates from low in DEADPOOL's throat. "Baby, I can't believe how good you look right now, seriously never looked better." he praises, commending the space between your legs as she's stuffed full of every inch of his dick. Another inexplicable thing about his mutation—he grew.

"'Talking to my pussy again, Wade?" you scoff, amused and breathless as you rock back on him, tossing a glance at him over your shoulder. Your spine is in a deep arch over the bed, and the nine inch heels you're wearing are the only reason you're able to compete with his height bent over like this.

"She needs to know what a good job she's doing otherwise she'll get discouraged. Poor thing needs a lot of love." he refutes your judgement, however playful, lovingly stroking the flesh of your ass with his glove. "Give us some privacy, please. Jesus." he tsks, shaking his head at you while you bury your face in the mattress. If his dick wasn't yanking your brains out along with it, you might have more to say. He turns his attention back where your bodies conjoin. "Thank God I put zipper on this thing. Who knew a onesie would be such a hassle to take a piss in?" The sounds of the room are filled with him running his mouth and your cunt's wet responses when he pulls out and shoves back in. "Now look at us." A particularly moistured sound squirts out, and he laughs knowingly, like your hole's said something entertaining at a tea party. "Zipper makes it too easy, you know? We've gotta stop meeting like this, maybe next time we can just sit and talk—"

"Wade!" you giggle, banging your fist onto the mattress. "Just fuck me, already!"

"Don't worry about her, she's just jealous." he tells your cunt, "You and I have something special, don't we? 'Specially when Daddypool says to christen the suit." A wave of wetness wells up from his comment, and he gasps in pleasant surprise. "Oh, you like that, you dirty thing. Next time I crotch-shot a bad guy he'll smell you all over, is that what you want, you freak? C'mere, I'll give you something real to leak about." Big rough hands grip on your hips, slamming into you so hard your ass ripples from the effect, and your happy pussy gargles around the dick it chokes on.

[gutsby]

Cowboy Killers

Pairing: Cowboy!Joel x Reader

Summary: On a mission to find—and fight—your best friend’s lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair.

Warnings: 18+. Drunk-Assholes-to-Enemies-to-Lovers. Oral (m!receiving). Road head. Age gap. Daddy kink.

Note: My favorite sub-genre of country music is ‘I’m Gonna Fucking Kill My Husband,’ and I think Miranda Lambert’s ‘Gunpowder & Lead’ is a perfect representation of that.

Word count: 4.1k

Forgive and forget.

Forgive and forget.

Forgive and—

“I’m about to lay this motherfucker out,” you announced.

Across the line, your friend laughed.

“Yeah? You see him?”

Of course you saw him. Who else would be wearing a Carhartt flannel and jeans in ninety-four degree heat? Not a soul in this world but your friend’s own lying, piece of shit, hopefully-soon-to-be-ex boyfriend, you guessed.

The game that Old Fuckstick Miller had decided to play tonight was a dangerous one—he was dumb as shit, and you were drunker than a skunk. He was dating your best friend, and she was not present at the Tipsy Bison to see the barefaced clusterfuck taking place before you now.

She was home, over thirty minutes away. He had told her that morning he would be working late, and not to wait up. You were here, at the bar, approaching one A.M. with a Redbull Vodka clenched in either fist and a Texas-sized frown on your face, seeing the very same man with his hands all over a woman that wasn’t your friend. You’d wanted to puke as soon as you saw them. You knew you could never trust a man who claimed to be an Austin native and couldn’t name a single George Strait song.

Your friend had only been dating the guy for a month, and you’d just seen his face in pictures up until now, but from what you could see less than twenty feet in front of you—slightly blurred from all the drinks you’d had—this guy was him. A dick. There, cheating on your best friend.

And no man would get to do that and walk out unscathed if you had anything to say about it.

Your grip tightened on either one of your fizzy drinks and, barely managing to cradle the phone between your head and your shoulder, you gestured over to another friend.

“Dave. Take it,” you said, words slurring a little.

Dave York cocked an eyebrow but said nothing as you passed him one of your RBVs and shimmied off the barstool. By the time he was able to pose his question, your ass, your phone, and your one remaining drink were already wobbling the other way. Vaguely, you heard him:

“Where ya headed, hon?”

You turned and raised your drink, then seriously doubted he would be able to hear you over the blare of the music, but yelled back anyway, ‘I’M GONNA KILL SOMEONE!’

The age-old pro-forgiveness aphorism continued to thump in your brain as you made your way over and began to contemplate every feasible method of murder.

A gun in the face would’ve been too simple—and besides, you’d never owned or shot a firearm in your life.

Poison could be fun, but from the way you were approaching the man now, you seriously doubted he’d ever let you get within a mile of his drink. You nudged the phone closer to your ear and took a sip from your own.

“Closing in,” you told your friend simply.

She’d already given you the go-ahead to execute the confrontation and beat his ass any way you pleased after the fact. Now it wasn’t so much a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’ you’d finally get to encroach on this little loved up scene at the other end of the bar. The man had had his back turned to you, and the stunning redhead hanging off his neck, likewise, had no idea what was coming. You smiled.

“Promise you won’t go to jail this time?” your friend said.

“Will you bail me out again if I do?” Your grin got bigger.

“Well, duh.”

“Good deal. I’ll be the shitfaced inmate with ‘Fuck Men’ tattooed on her forehead. Wait for Travis County to call.”

“I love you, psycho.”

“Love you more.”

You ended the call.

And you were fully ready to end this man’s life when you saw him lean in to kiss the woman’s neck—that was sick.

You weren’t thinking straight. You weren’t seeing straight

You yelled out, ‘He-e-e-ey, honey!’ without blinking.

The couple turned.

As soon as the man had done a full 180, you flung your drink in his face and made sure the cup struck his nose.

“You cheatin’ FUCK!”

He flinched, sprayed by your vodka-infused energy juice.

The music overhead was loud, but not so deafening as to prevent the bar from hearing your shriek. From the front of the room, a band was playing ‘Gunpowder & Lead,’ and you couldn’t help but feel the song had been fate.

“What the f—” the adulterer started, evidently stunned.

You knocked the Shiner Bock out of his hand and spat:

“Working late, are we?!”

And spilled another patron’s beer reeling back.

“Got a little caught up on the way home?”

Gesturing toward the green-eyed beauty to his left. At first, the girl fixed her stare on you as if you’d sprouted another head, but then, by turns, she was tilting it to him.

“You have a girlfriend?” she hissed.

Cheater McFuckstick was wiping his beard with his hand

Shaking his head.

“Hell no, I ain’t never—”

“LIAR!”

Channeling your inner Representative Wilson circa 2009, you let your mouth fall open and stared at the big, burly man like the Congressman had once done to President Obama all those years ago. The semi-stranger in front of you was far less composed than his political counterpart.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” he snapped.

You felt your cheeks heat up.

“Is she your girlfriend?” would-be mistress said, shrill.

“NO!” you and been-knew asshole yelled together.

You saw the man’s nostrils flare, and at the same time, the woman beside him departed. Quickly. A few people around you cleared the way, while others still stared, gawked, and murmured amongst themselves. The Miranda Lambert cover band continued on without a hitch, though you could tell there had been a stir in the crowd. They probably thought the worst of it was over.

They thought wrong.

“You’re a dick,” you seethed, unrelenting.

You almost expected the man to turn and leave.

You thought wrong.

“You’re a cunt.”

And the man chucked a stray whiskey sour in your face.

The $15 spirits splattered on your skin like the meanest insult of all. His aim was better. Though he didn’t let go of the cup, as you had with him, he did make sure to coat the whole of your twisted look with the liquor, and once it landed, he had had the nerve to do something else, too.

He brought the glass to his lips then drank what was left.

“How’s it feel?” he sneered.

You stood in wet, sticky silence for half a second; arguably, you’d earned that cocktail to the face.

On the other hand, who the fuck did he think he was?

You grabbed a random can of Keystone Light and flung it at his chest to give him a hint—and catch him off-guard.

“You’re a bitch, Tommy Miller!”

“Wh—”

“Maria’s my best friend, you absolute f—”

“What—”

“—and you cheated on her for what? All so she—”

“What did you just call me?!”

“A BITCH!”

“No, the NAME!”

“TOMMY MILLER!”

“I’M JOEL!”

Oh.

Oh.

You and Joel were shortly escorted out of the bar.

Joel’s name, and a trace of bourbon, were still fresh on your tongue when you found yourself stranded in the middle of the Tipsy Bison parking lot two minutes later. You leaned into a car beside you and held your stomach.

“Someone drop you on the head as a baby?” Joel barked.

Presently, for you, the world was tilting sideways, and your head was throbbing at a nauseating tempo.

“Go around slingin’ drinks at any old man you—”

Green. Green must’ve been the color of your face as you braced your hands on your knees and assumed a stance as if to scream at the ground. Rather than expecting any noise to ring out, though, you had only to squeeze your eyes shut and hold onto a hunch for something much less pleasant. And viscous.

Reeking mostly of Red Bull and regret, if you had to guess.

Joel took a big step back, and then he took another.

“Da-a-adgummit, girl, what the—”

He turned away just in time to miss the sight of you emptying your guts on the ground, but not quite fast enough to be spared the sounds of you retching. They were loud. Joel Miller was known to be a largely imperturbable force around these parts, but even he was made to feel queasy hearing that. Out of habit, he clapped his hand to his own gut and stumbled off. He stared at the bar, then at his car, then at the gravel crushed under his feet for what felt like the longest time. Then his gaze lingered to his lower half, and he thought:

‘Please, please don’t gimme no daughters. Please.’

He was forty-five. The time for making babies and raising daughters to be anything like a woman of your ilk was probably long past him. All the same, he kept his gaze on his crotch and sighed. Balls, you better not betray me.

When he heard the crunch of rocks, he turned around.

“HEY!”

Oh, no. No. Not tonight.

You were staggering to your car, keys in hand.

“Hey!” Joel called again, jogging after you.

It seemed the second shout had done him no more favors than the first. You were fumbling to get the key inside the door, and you looked as determined as ever.

Over your shoulder, you tossed back, careless:

“You ain’t the boss of me, Tommy Miller.”

You got the key to turn. You opened the door. You were just about to climb inside what looked to Joel to be the ugliest Dodge Ram pickup he’d seen in his life, when he grabbed your arm.

“It’s Joel,” he growled. Pinching your elbow tight as he tugged it back, “And you ain’t driving anywhere tonight.”

Somewhere in front of him, tilted away from his line of vision, you must’ve been grinning, because the next thing he heard from you was the scoff of a laugh.

“Oh yeah?”

Joel flipped you around to face him.

“Yeah,” he snapped.

Feeling a bit like a kid for mimicking your tone.

What were you, twenty-two? Twenty-three? You couldn’t have been a patron of a place like Tipsy Bison for very long, or else he would’ve recognized you tonight.

Then again, you struck him as the type to have had a fake ID since you were fifteen, so he really couldn’t know.

“I’m twenny-wuh-un,” you slurred up at him, exaggerated, once he’d made you step down from the running board and onto the ground. Answering his last unspoken question with the same, sleepy grin as before. Then lifting one of your hands to wag a finger in his face, “I can drink legal anywhere I want to in this country.”

“Not there,” Joel nodded to the interstate.

You looked to where he’d gestured and whistled. Standing and staring, like he had done to his crotch.

“Well fuck me-e!” you said next, dragging out the sound a childish amount, “You the law or somethin’, Mr. Joel?”

“Ain’t no cop.” Joel rolled his eyes.

You kept smiling. Then you turned on your heels.

And instead of trying to climb back into your truck, you sauntered off—in what direction, Joel couldn’t tell. You were more so bumbling about, turning in circles like the world’s most scantily-clad, semi-intoxicated ballerina. And then you stopped. You put your hands on your hips.

“‘Cause I’m the law,” you resumed in a slow, deliberate drawl. The twang you used was mostly feigned, “And you cain’t beat the law. Don’t nobody get away with that, not even a bunch’a Alabama smart alecks, believe you me.”

Joel didn’t know what the fuck you were talking about. The man was Texas born and bred, and you knew it.

He communicated as much by pinning you with a wide, bewildered stare, and something in that seemed to amuse. You stared back, making your eyes bug out too.

“It’s a quote from a movie,” you said, after a beat, “You’ve never seen Fried Green Tomatoes before?”

Joel couldn’t say that he had.

Joel reckoned there was a lot more than just movies he didn’t share in common with you. Miss Twenty-One. Barely a year past the age he’d been when he’d moved out of the house and tried to make a living on his own.

This woman, this girl he saw twirling out in front of him now probably couldn’t pour piss out of a boot with the instructions written on the heel if he’d asked you to. Joel shook his head and moved his feet, frown etching deep.

“Alright, princess. Up.”

You didn’t seem to understand, until he’d lifted you. Up.

You were thrown over his shoulder and carried to a truck much nicer than yours in less than fifteen seconds or so.

“Stinks in here,” you said as soon as he’d set you down.

Then, sniffing the air—and grinning:

“Aw, hell, Miller…you smoke?”

Joel wished he’d said no.

Wished he’d rolled his eyes and told you to pipe down, stop asking him questions. It would’ve made the drive a whole lot easier, and more peaceful. Nowhere near as painful, either, if he were being perfectly honest—the strain in his jeans had already gotten to be more than he could bear, and all you’d asked for was a pack of smokes.

“They call ‘em Cowboy Killers,” you said, matter-of-fact.

“I know what they’re called,” Joel grumbled in reply. Flicking the radio on and hoping to find a tune that would drown out the too-lovely, cloying voice you’d assumed as soon as you thought you might win a cigarette off of him. More chatty now than ever.

And for one, blissful moment, Toby Keith had you beat. The calm was fleeting. As soon as ‘Who’s Your Daddy’ started to drift through the car’s old speakers, you reached across and turned the knob to the left.

“Gross,” you muttered.

“What?”

“Got a light?”

“Blow me.”

Joel’s harsh, clipped tone was deliberate. The way he’d made himself mean—meaner than he’d been around a woman in a long, long time—was a choice. He couldn’t let your faux sweetness win him now. Not after you’d thrown two drinks in his face, mocked his truck, and foreclosed any possibility of getting laid by way of all your publicized infidelity philippics and shit-talking. Giving in to your charms from where you sat in the passenger seat now would only sink him further in his own esteem. Simply put, Joel’s ego couldn’t take it.

“Okie doke,” you said presently. Shrugging.

“Now keep your—HEY!”

Joel nearly swerved his truck off the road and into a ditch. Your deft little hands had slipped into his lap—and started palming his crotch through the denim.

He’d just managed to right the vehicle before jerking a look your way, staring at your hand, then your face:

“What the fuck was that?!”

“You said ‘blow me,’ Joel!” you huffed, and you seriously appeared as distraught as he was, “Sorry for listening!”

Joel grit his teeth with all the force of a cold steel trap.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts.” He gripped the wheel even tighter.

“I’m aware.”

“Where the hell do you live, anyway?”

You told him.

Your hand slipped down to the seat beside him.

And just as Joel let out what felt like the tiniest sigh of relief—he knew where that was, and the address sounded vaguely familiar—he yelped again. This time, he managed to keep control of his truck, but it was hard.

Your fingers had returned, and they were kneading the bulge under his jeans. Joel flushed from head to toe.

He didn’t have so much as half a mind to make you stop. He didn’t want to see you slink back over to your side of the car. But you were twenty-one, and he was forty-five. And you were both under the influence to some degree. And he was driving, for fuck’s sake. Shit like that only worked in dreams—not on a highway in a town like this.

He turned the radio dial to 75. At length, he heard it loud:

‘WHO’S YOUR DADDY? WHO’S YOUR BA-A-A-ABY?’

He saw you cringe.

“C’mon, Joel,” you groaned, “That’s…yuck.”

The fingers of the one hand kept digging, rubbing, but the other reached out and turned the music down again.

Joel shifted in his seat, feeling the pleasure start to bloom from the pit of his stomach, but not wanting to let you off that easy. Briefly, he looked from the road to you.

“What? You got a problem with Toby Keith?”

“I got a problem with anyone sayin’ ‘daddy’ like that.”

You unzipped his fly. Popped the button of his jeans from underneath the soft shelf of belly hanging over it, and held him, finally. You could only cup his erection through his boxers at that point, but the friction was enough to send a shiver through the whole of the old man’s body. He hadn’t been touched like that by a hand that wasn’t his own in…he couldn’t remember how long. He sighed.

“That why you’ve got your hand down the pants of a man old enough to be your father?” Joel quipped.

He couldn’t help it.

Your hand only gripped him tighter. From the passenger seat, you’d leaned over and started crawling. Scowling.

Your knees swiftly planted themselves on the old, upholstered cushion of the bucket seat, and you slipped a touch beneath the waistband of his underwear. With a hand that was smooth and soft and eager to please, you wrapped your fingers around that base and leaned in.

“You sound like you want me to say it,” you whispered.

Under your hand, he pulsed. His gaze stayed on the road.

“Don’t make no difference to me, sweet pea,” he said, and was amazed how even he was able to keep his tone:

“But those ‘Cowboy Killers’ you wanted…”

Your fingers curled tighter. Your head sank lower.

“…they don’t come cheap, y’know.”

Oh, you knew. He saw a smile snag at the corners of your lips as you brought them to his lap, and he had to force himself to look at the road again. It was empty and dark.

The tarmac stretched out for days. The fields rolling past warned sternly, ‘Don’t let her win,’ and something more in between each tree seemed to invite deliberation—remembrance, maybe. Joel was far too focused on the feel of your mouth to give the woods a second thought.

You’d worked the first inch between your lips in a slick, obscene sort of kiss; you made room for just the head and then toyed with a bead of precum leaking out of his slit. You licked it, squeezed the shaft in your hand, and hummed while the first real moan rumbled through him.

Joel turned to putty with just that flick of your tongue. He didn’t have to see your face to know he was losing.

On the wheel, his grip grew tighter, and he choked out:

“Ain’t your fuckin’ lollypop, kid.”

Then, dropping one hand to push down on your head—make you take him to the back of your throat in one go.

“Daddy wants you to suck him like a big girl, hear?”

At the base of his cock, he felt you gag. From the bottom of his heart, Joel knew there was no sound sweeter than that. He ran his fingers over your skull and tapped gently.

“If you want those smokes,” he told you—and really, with all the warmth and moisture of your mouth enveloping him now, he’d had to try to sound rougher than he was, “You’re gonna do what daddy says and suck him right.”

You gagged again, then squeezed his denim-clad leg with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his member.

Joel yanked you by your hair and made you look up.

Your cheeks were already smeared with spit and tears. Much to his surprise, he found your eyes alight and soft.

Suffused with desire, too, from what he could see.

“Yes, daddy.” You grinned up at him.

Joel knew if he let your gaze stay on his a second longer now he’d either crash his car, blow his load, or fall in love—and he simply refused to let you succeed on any of those fronts, so he shoved your face back down.

You sucked him obediently. Greedily. Mouth growing more pliant and wet by the second, as if your jaw and salivary glands had contrived to get him as close to release as possible, as quickly as they were able.

Joel took a left onto a road he had only a dim recognition as being connected to yours, and he got that feeling again. You were bobbing your head, taking him further, flattening your tongue along the bottom of his member when his pleasure swelled inside him. At the same time, he felt a sense of dread. His hands were shaking on the wheel. He didn’t dare steal a look down to the sweet, soaked, perfect little mouth sucking him dry, because he knew that feeling would only strike twice as hard. He had to cum, or make you stop, or bring his truck to a halt.

As it was, he felt five tiny crescents sink into his thigh as you gripped him tighter, and a noise bubbled up in your mouth. Your breathing went shallow, and your lips stretched wide—you were trying, and succeeding, in deep-throating his thick, throbbing, much-too-old-for-a-girl-her-age member down close to your windpipe, and Joel could feel it. He hit his blinker, not thinking, and saw a sign that marked your street. Trepidation hit him again.

Fully, this time, in a feeling that was more like terror.

He didn’t have another second to question it, either. By the time he had the old, lone farmhouse in his sights and his heart nearly halfway up his throat with fear, your own throat pulsed, and opened the last two inches to him in. Your nose found their home in the rough, grey, wiry hairs at the base of his belly, having swallowed him whole, and Joel quickly sensed the start of what he knew too well.

He came down your throat in one, two, three, four, five long spurts, and didn’t let his foot off the gas even once.

He saw your house, approaching closer now, and paled.

No fucking way.

You’d wanted to skip the whole way up your drive.

Spit still drying on your cheeks, cum resting comfortably in your belly, and a smile as bright as the sun on your face as you waved to the F-150 pulling off toward the road, you’d never felt more alive—or smug—in your life.

“Is your dad…Lucien Flores?” Joel had asked no more than a second after his dick slipped out of your mouth.

“The one and only.”

Somehow, his face got even paler. His jaw visibly clenched, and his palm hit the top of the wheel. Hard.

It was then that you’d learned your father had hired Joel Miller on as a full-time ranch hand sometime last week.

He’d remembered the address, vaguely, but didn’t connect the dots until he’d pulled up in front of your house and damn near punctured your windpipe with his pulsing dick from how fast he’d jumped up—and cum.

His spend had almost shot through your nose with the force of it, but you didn’t mind. Once he’d revealed the wild, gory, and admittedly hilarious details of his newfound employment, you were too busy laughing your ass off to care if he’d torn your throat in two with his dick.

“So you really are a cowboy, then,” you’d said, giggling.

Joel had scowled. Rolled his eyes. Practically turned the color of a tomato when you leaned in and kissed him.

Now you were waving to him from your front door.

Joel’s truck was slow to go. The taste of him was fresh.

And there, weighing light in your back pocket while you said goodbye was a brand new pack of Marlboro Reds.

2:21 AM

You were safely in bed. You checked your phone.

Aside from fourteen missed calls, you saw:

1:09 AM – Maria

DUDE

1:09 AM

TOMMY JUST CAME HOME

1:09 AM

THAT’S NOT HIM AT THE BAR

1:13 AM

IT’S JUST JOEL!! HIS BROTHER!!!

1:13 AM

ABORT ABORT ABORT

1:42 AM

DAVE SAID YOU BEAT JOEL UP???? CALL ME

1:54 AM – Dave York

Ur gonna fuck that old dude aren’t u