i kinda like this sick bastard

  • Stephen King: hey, remember that book you liked?
  • me: yes?
  • SK: remember the main character, the really cool kid with the special powers?
  • me: yes!
  • SK: would you like to read a sequel about them?
  • me: YES
  • SK: a whole new adventure. and now they're all grown up!
  • me: YESSSS
  • SK: and everything is sad now!
  • me: ye-wait, what?
  • SK: yeah, remember all that amazing potential they had?
  • me: y-yes?
  • SK: WASTED! haha, but srsly, their lives are a mess
  • me: no
  • SK: most the people they knew in the last book are dead!
  • me: noooo
  • SK: and they're still REALLY fucked up about that stuff I put them through. y'know, where things kinda looked like they turned out okay? haha, SURPRISE, no, that shit was traumatizing.
  • me: whyyyy
  • SK: look, do you want to read it or not?
  • me: just take my money, you sick bastard
When they fight over a girl...

the ZiNo edition

author notes: hot tension and glares

*You’ve become friends with Minho and Jiho - you guys have been hanging out every couple of days and you’re due to hang out with them at Jiho’s recording studio but you’re going to be later than expected*

*Minho and Jiho are hanging out together in Jiho’s studio when you send Jiho a text to let them know you’ll be late*

[ZC] *checking phone* …oh Y/N’s going to be late… *pout*

[MH] oh… ah well hyung… *they continue their conversation*

*10 minutes later*

[ZC] oh that reminds me of when us 3 went to that really nice restaurant in Gangnam… remember? 

[MH] yeah, that was really good food… i think i have a picture… *he scrolls through his phone until he finds the picture* …this night?

[ZC] ah yeah… that’s the one *smiling*

[MH] …hyung?

Keep reading

Girl Gone missing on holidays..part 2

18-year old Paige’s holiday turned into a nightmare when She got kidnapped by horny perverted slavers. On a first night in a dungeon She was forced to cum countless times.. fingered,vibed,fondled.. until She passed out…

…Paige opened Her eyes next morning… She felt like Her pussy was burning due constant simulation last night…

She realized that She was now lying on a matrass,on a bed..Paige tried to sit up,but Her arms and legs were tied to the bedposts… still completely naked…

“aaargh… damn it…”  She was still too weak to fight off the restraints. She awaited in fear for what the kidnappers will do to Her next..

Paige heard someone approaching.. it was the kidnapper.

“Hey sexy.. I hope You slept well.”

“FUCK YOU ..YOU SICK PIG! LET ME GO!” Paige screamed

“Oh hey.. watch You mouth little lady. For Me it seemed You had greatest pleasure in Your young life,baby ,haha..”

“YOU ARE SICK BASTARD! LET ME GO NOW! I CUT YOUR BALLS OFF!” Paige got angrier and tried to spit at the man.

“I see You still have some fight in You. I actually find it kinda sexy. I brought something for You.” - The kidnapper pulls out the hitachi vibrator. - “ You were cumming like a little whore last night with that toy. It should teach You a little lesson on how to choose Your language”

Paige’s eyes widened due the fear.. She knew She could not take it for long.. Her whole pussy Was burning. She did not say anything. She kept watching the man with hate. Promising herself to stay strong.

The kidnapper attached the vibrator on Paige’s clit and restrained it with bondage around Paige’s hips. She closed Her eyes and took a deep breath..

The Man turned on the hitachi on low vibe.. gently vibing Paige’s teen sex,and left the room. Paige opened Her eyes in shock and was feeling getting aroused between Her legs..   

“Oh shit..no..mmmhh..aah..shit… “   She felt the orgasm slowly building up..She was fingered a lot yesterday,but she passed out quickly after few orgasms from hitachi..  Her clit was still very sensitive…

“aaa..ooohhh…mmmmph…aaaah…shiit..nooo…mmmmph” Paige tried to bite Her lip to get the focus off arousal between Her thighs..

But the longer She tried to avoid cumming,the greater felt the urge to cum..The vibrator did not come off Her delicate spot,no matter how hard She tried..The low buzzing between Her legs felt more and more arousing… She tried hard to endure the orgasm torture,but the wave of orgasm felt building up strongly..

“mmmmmmmmrrrrrrrrr…..uh..uh….mmmmmmphhhh…..” Paige kept fighting off the orgasm… “Uhh..uhh..mmmm….” The vibrator kept on buzzing… “mmmmmmmrrrgggghhhhhhhOOHH UH UH…  AAAAAAAHHHH..AAAAAOOOOOAAAA…”   Paige succumbed to massive orgasm.. Her teen clit turned more sensitive and hitachi kept buzzing without a break.. ripping continuously the second and the third orgasm Out of this poor 18 year old girl….  the hours passed.. Paige’s body was thrusting and pulsating..completely weak to fight off the orgasms.. and the hitachi kept buzzing…  Until Her mind went blank once again..

The Types as Things I've Done

ENTP: I was quarantined and confined to my quarters on a cruise ship, barred from entering Canada and delivering the plague of whatever the hell awful stomach illness I developed to such a docile people.

INTP: I have literally always been so bad about reading true romantic intention, not sexual or just flattery, but definitely real romance. Maybe I don’t trust it? Idk. So I wound up going to the movies with a guy who I thought was just hanging out with me. We ran into friends there. Before the credits started, the girl’s cornered me in the bathroom–one of whom I had a serious crush on at the time–and demanded to know how my date was. I didn’t know it was a date until they pointed out he had paid. It also took me months to realize why another one of the girl’s was so hostile towards him was because she had a thing for me. I thought it was friendly aggression???

ESFJ: For my parents’ fifteenth wedding anniversary, I demanded my brother get out of bed to help me cook them breakfast to bring them before they got up for the day. Unfortunately, my twelve year old cooking skills were subpar and they didn’t eat it even though in my mind they were supposed to. I was crushed lol.

ISFJ: When I was two I had to have my tonsils removed. In pre-op, I hopped off a chair, grabbed the surgeon’s hand and swung it on the way to the operating room. I smiled up at him and told him in my super sore throated voice he was a great doctor and that I would be happy to split my ice cream with him.
(Those bastards gave me popsicles)

ENFP: I somehow convinced my entire senior class to pull the most ridiculous faces for our school ID photos. Someone chugged a container of applesauce, another person pulled a Zoolander face, another wore a spin dial hat and got as uncomfortable looking as possible, someone asked for a close up, another was fed grapes by a freshman, etc. The office was in hysterics when they were shipped in. People were happy. It was great.

INFP: I was super moody and withdrawn and sad my freshman year of college. I literally only left my dorm to eat, go to class, and drink. I had over-idealized school and didn’t fall in with the people I wanted to lol it was stupid. But I became very involved with my writing and drawing so that’s something.

ESTJ: I’m a huge seafood lover. Like gosh, I feel like an embarrassment to my mentor, Ron Swanson, because fish is a vegetable but this information is necessary. I’ve never had an allergic reaction to shellfish before, but one time in Maryland my family decided to have dinner at a crab bar on the Chesapeake. I ordered soft shell blue crab, because I had never tasted soft shell crab before and figured why not. Anyways, not too far into my meal, my cheeks go kind of numb, my throat feels like it’s kind of closing up, and I’m itchy af. I clear my throat and persevere through chewing, but my mother looks at me and asks me if I’m okay or if I want to order something else because by this point it’s pretty obvious I’m having a minor allergic reaction. I swallow, look her dead in the eye, and say even though I’ve discovered I don’t really have a liking for this type of crab, “We spent money on this. I’m going to eat it and I’m going to like it … even if it kills me.”

ISTJ: In my last year of elementary school, my teacher had a creatively lazy way of enforcing order and making the students work in a self-sustained business/government fashion. There was an interdependent hierarchy of monetary, justice, legislative, and operations positions we applied to at the beginning of each quarter, so we could have an opportunity to rotate. For a semester my job was to act as sort of police officer. We didn’t call them that in specific terms, I can’t remember the official title. But there were three of us in this very large class, and my job was to essentially hand out “tickets” for violations on rules our class had voted upon in our little senate. And these tickets were basically meant to reasonably bring about justice, ie: you’re disruptive you have to sit up at the empty desk near the teacher for x amount of time, you throw things at or to people or act like a jerk you help clean after class or grade papers or you lose recess time outside or something. We had a grievance committee who could repeal these tickets at any given time or during a Senate vote. Some of my classmates tried to buy me off after I issued them a warning, but I was unflappable and refused to be a dirty cop. I only had one person who couldn’t corrupt me try to get me fired, his vote was crushed by my classmates, and my teacher later told me I had an impeccable sense of justice.

ESFP: I instigated an intense round of the yellow light game where everyone slaps the ceiling of the car when the driver goes through a yellow light and the loser has to lose an article of clothing. I basically won every light because I refused to lose and just got to sit back and enjoy the show.

ISFP: I straight up balled angry, hot tears at The Museum of Tolerance. The evils of man made me feel physically sick as I walked through the model gas chambers. I remember running my hand over the wall and questioning who had stood somewhere similar, and so much more awful. And even though I felt all dark and twisty inside, I had never felt so proud as I was of the people who were heroic and sacrificed and fought the good fight trying to help the people trying to escape the Holocaust.

ENTJ: In high school I was voted most likely to take over the world. I had previously explained to my entire AP Government class some ‘precisely vague’ steps that a figure like a world ruler would need to take to assure such a position. Apparently, combined with a charming smile and promises of prosperity, it was an impressionable moment.

INTJ: My friend discovered a game where you can take on the role of a contagion with the goal of infecting as many people as possible. We named the plague Stupidity. At the end of the game we were told, “Stupidity Has Eradicated Humanity.” We thought it was hilarious.

ESTP: About a year ago, I spilt a gallon of boiling hot butter onto my hands as I was pulling it out of the microwave. (Yay workplace safety! We never had safety training! What a bunch of incompetent asshats!) It pooled around behind me, I went down, but basically my brain had shut off all higher processing aside from safety. So I calmly yanked myself to my feet, tore off my hat and soaked apron, and ran my hands under cool water. At this rate, I can already feel the blisters, I know my hands are least covered in second degree burn, and I can feel the butter soaking into my socks and probably burning my shins. I look to my coworker who took about an extra minute to recover from shock (which is actually a long fucking time when you’ve been scalded alive) and calmly say, “Please call my mother, I need to go the hospital. But first, help me walk into the back, I need to take my pants off.” And proceeded to fucking wink. So here I am, smirking through the worst pain of my life, and still making it sound like I’m flirting with her. Go me.

ISTP: My cousin took me bar hopping on my 21st birthday, and we wound up walking right behind a fight between these five huge ass men that had stumbled out into the street. My cousin tried to shield me back with his arm, but here I am this scrappy snowflake with a hostile perma scowl as these idiots flailed around on the pavement, and just grumbled back, “These bitches don’t know how to hit. This is embarrassing to watch. Let me end this.”

ENFJ: I briefly started a cult my sophomore year of high school. I didn’t take it very seriously, I was far too entertained, so that’s probably why we never had much footing.

INFJ: My friend and I once found a wandering, lost drunk girl on the beach. And we were like, 'shit we can’t leave you alone. It’s getting dark. Us girls gotta stick together.’ So I offered her my water, and my phone to use but she couldn’t remember any numbers and no one would answer, and asked her where her friends were. Of course, she couldn’t remember, and I was just like okay, do you remember anything about the area where they might be? She had no idea. So I was like, alright, could totes use a sign right now. Next thing I know, I look up and there’s a flock of geese flying in a perfect formation. So I look to my friend and I’m like, alright, let’s help her look in this direction. My friend kinda gave me a wtf face like if you say so. I told her I just had a feeling. Six minutes later, drunk girl’s equally drunk friends cheer upon her return and offer us beers. And that’s how I returned a lost drunk girl with my symbolic reach in bird knowledge.


They’re close to wrapping their second soul eater case when Dean finally works up the nerve to ask what’s been pestering in his brain ever since they left Michigan.

“Hey, um—” He sees Sam’s head snap up from across the research table, but keeps his eyes fixed on his laptop screen. “Back when you said me seeing dead you was ‘comforting’, what’d you mean?”

Sam sighs. “I guess I was glad the soul eater didn’t make you see things you’d have a hard time telling apart from reality, y’know?”

Dean scoffs.

Yeah, right.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

hey never thought i would need to use a curse but this fucker tried to sexually assault me. how could I get him to realise the gravity of what he did and never hurts someone like that again. I have know idea who he is, but i kinda remember his face it was dark though. i'm also going to report it but what if they never find him, don't want him to get away with this and hurting more people.


And while you’re at it, snap a carrot in half and throw that in too, so the sick bastard won’t have a tool to work with.

By all means, report the fucker. Give evidence, make sure they write a report, and don’t let ANYONE tell you it was in any way your fault. And if you see him again, you take a picture and you turn it in to the police.

If anyone tries to touch you again, you fucking stab them. You are a human being and you deserve to be safe and to have your personal space respected.

And in the meantime, assholes like that won’t realize the gravity of what they’ve done or how wrong it was, because they’re entitled little grublings who don’t think we have the right to refuse them. And if he’s done this to you, he’s probably done the same…or worse…to someone else.

Curse his bones to rot.

No mercy for rapists.

“You meet a man who’s owed a dance with Death, and you just cut in with a blank check and a job offer? What kinda sick bastard are you, anyway?”

“I want to know about you. Is that a bad thing?”
“It can’t become a bad thing if we just don’t start.”

“Come on. Ask me anything!”
“You’ll just regret it in the morning. You’re a very private person, remember?”

“Finch. It’s forty degrees, where’s your coat?”
“Mothering me is not a part of your job description, Mr Reese.”

“Mr Reese? Mr Reese? …Mr Reese, can you hear me? Are you okay?”
“Aww. A few seconds of radio silence and you start fussing like a doting grandmother. I think I’m growing on you, Finch.”

“When will you be back? …Bear misses you.”
“Cipher received and decoded, Harold. I’ll be home soon.”

“I don’t think you and I see the same things when we look at me, Finch.”
“It’s really a shame, Mr Reese, that I wear glasses but my eyes see much more clearer than yours.”

“No, no. Don’t tell me things like this, John. It makes me fear that I have misled you.”
“You can try to lead me astray if you like. Just know I’ll always come right back.”

“You said you feel like a broken record, thanking me all the time. And I just sit here, afraid to… No more. 
You have… changed my life. Irrevocably. Changed me. And I’ve been so stupid, not telling you, not…”
“Ah, shit, Harold–”
“No! Wait. Let me say this. I didn’t know what to expect when I offered you this job, I didn’t know if it would even work out, but you are… a godsend, to the city, and to… to me, and…”
“Harold. It’s all right. C’mere. …Never mind, I’ll come to you. Your glasses are all fogged up.”

“Can you see me? … Yeah. It’s me. I, uh… well, this is going to sound weird, but I want to talk to you.
About Harold. About the future. Because … okay, yeah, this does sound weird. But I think you’ll understand.”

“No, John, no, you can’t do this, it was… it was supposed to be me…!”

“You know as well as I do that my number’s been up for a long time. But it’s all right. It’s all right, Harold. I’m here with you now, at the end, and I’m so grateful I made it this far, Harold, so grateful.

Remember what I said to you when we first met?

You meet a man, a blind man, with nothing before him but Death, and you step in, and you take his hands, and you give him purpose, and you give him truth, and now he sees…”

anonymous asked:

my bf wanted to cum on my face & i said no because personally i find it really degrading, but he kept asking why and was kinda annoyed at the end. do you think i'm just prude?

no we all have our own preferences and if he wants to be a 12 year old, next time beg him to let you shit on his face and when he’s like uh no be like wow how dare you have different sexual preferences than me you sick bastard