is he ripped or fat

havesomemercy  asked:

Hey, I've noticed in your Snapchats that you have an Alienware laptop (I believe?). Do you like it? Is it frustrating to use at all for everyday use? I'm shopping around for gaming laptops right now and would like to get people's opinions on ones they have ^_^

I LOVEE IITTT!!!  I have a custom Alienware Mx14r.  ITS AN OLD baby. I’ve had it since 2009. And it keeps on trucking. 

I love alienware laptops for everyday uses because, if it can run CRYSIS is can definitely run photoshop. No problem. Gaming laptops are great not just for gaming (I ran DA1, skyrim, and overwatch on it, all with HD graphics or mods) but because gaming takes such a heavy setup you know it can do other stuff fine. Like video or photo editing or even uploading and downloading mutiple shit. 

And Alienwares/Dells come with a 5 yr warranty. So literally all my repairs on it (and there were a lot that first 5 yrs. I had the guts taken out and replaced twice, and the fan) were FREE. It was awesome. For Alienware specifically, they have local technicions that come out to your place and do the repairs right there.

I highly recommend it. 

Even custom, with i7 processor and a higher graphics card and ram, the whole thing was 850 bucks. 

you die and go to heaven. st peter greets you and opens the gates. “welcome to paradise my friend” he says. as the gates open you see a familiar figure standing on the other side. “b-b-bonglord…. is that you?” he takes off his mask slowly, in the kingdom of god finally revealing his true self. it’s jesus. he takes a fat rip off a gatorade bottle bong with 5 blunts stuck into it. 

youtube

never 4get

time to post about muscles (even tho i feel like i’ve said this before i can’t be fucked to find the post again)

blackwall is built. is it obvious? not necessarily. the best place to see it would be his arms–there’s little fat there and mostly muscle. they’re thick and flex naturally when he gestures and fights. where his muscle isn’t as obvious is in places like his stomach and thighs. yes, his arms get a lot of active, repetitive work hefting a sword and shield around for hours at a time–that’s obvious, and part of why there’s not a lot of fat on his arms too. but his abs are actually very well developed–there’s a lot of twisting at the hips/waist in fighting, pushing, pulling, and lifting going on, and even simply lifting armor (and his shield and sword tbh) that he probably uses his abs more than his arms. if you want to think of it visually, he’d be most likely to have something like six-pack abs or smth–if it wasn’t for the fact that his muscles from the chest/shoulders down are covered in a pretty substantial layer of fat. the fat is there for a lot of reasons–

  • one: the human body naturally carries fat easily. it wants to carry fat. you have to go against THOUSANDS of years of survival instinct to lose fat because your body naturally wants to save fat (aka the body’s potential energy stores) for when things get rough and food gets scarce. your body thinks dieting is starvation. your body thinks excercise means you’re regularly doing stressful activity and you should have more energy stores to compensate. to lose weight and have obvious muscles like  body builders, you have to go against biology
    • note: this obviously isn’t the rule for everyone’s body, as there are many, many different ways to carry or not carry weight. this is just mostly on a whole how things go
  • two: blackwall doesn’t work out the way modern people do. all his muscle is practical–he has gained it from wearing armor, from practicing with his sword, from carrying a massive shield around. he’s developed muscles from frequent fighting, from long marches between missions/battles, from various activities like horseback riding and carving. all his muscle was gained simply from living the life he chose–and his fat is the same way. he eats well, he drinks plenty, and he doesn’t do anything special to get rid of any weight he gains. his weight fluctuates, certainly–off missions, when eating well, he probably gains a few pounds, but out in the field, those pounds are shed easily (as well as probably a few more bc food isn’t as great and he’s burning it off as soon as he consumes it just about)
  • three: it’s just his body type. genetics sure as hell play into it, as well as his age. in his prime, he probably had less fat and more obvious muscles. while he hasn’t lost the muscle mass, he’s gained more fat over the years, not from laziness, but just because his genetics lend to him gaining weight as he gets older. He’d have to go out of his way to lose some of that weight, and he’s just got other things to do.
    • also interesting to think about would be his weight gain/loss over the course of inquisition. i doubt acting as a warden-constable and travelling around orlais/ferelden offered the best/healthiest cusine, or even regular meals that he didn’t make himself. he was probably a lot leaner when you first encounter him on the storm coast and steadily gained more weight after arriving to skyhold, as they began entertaining nobles and had an actual cook to prepare those meals. not to say that blackwall was there for the meals–just that the quality of food went up from haven to skywall because the company they kept went up as well. and when i say he gained weight, i mean a fluctuating ~5-8 pounds, which again, is fairly standard behavior for most human bodies (other people and other races may be different idk i’m human so that’s what i know)

tldr; blackwall is thicc n stronk n can carry all his friends to safety :’) blackwall has muscles, but only his arms appear obviously ripped (when they’re shown bc the boy covers himself from head to toe in clothes). everything else (mostly stomach & thighs) have a healthy layer of fat that is because of his diet, body type via genetics, age, and simply bc that’s how most human bodies tend to work.

Sense... weight???

The actor was spotted with his co-star Brian J. Smith

Miguel Angel Silvestre of recent canceled Sense8 series was spotted with Brian J. Smith in Capri beach in Italy. The actor seems affected for the ending of the series, we can say that he has been “eating his feelings”, well he replaced his ripped abs for a fat belly.

It’s known that they are good friends, they always get fun together while filming. Maybe Brian is helping him to get over the sad time.

Even Miguel Angel’s extra weight is unavoidable he seems comfortable shirtless at beach. Maybe he is tired of being a sex symbol and have to workout and dieting, maybe he’s just relaxed enjoying food and resting.

Originally posted by lynchoid

2

“Why does the enemy keep staring at, y/n?” Chloe asked, hands on her hips. Das Sound Machine had just beat them at the riff off, and now Pieter wouldn’t stop staring at you. You hadn’t noticed until Chloe pointed it out though. You looked up and caught his eye, only for him to shoot a wink at her.

“What is he doin’? I’m gunna rip his knee cap out,” Fat Amy said, storming over to where he stood.

“Why’s he even looking at me?” you asked.

“You’re hot, duh,” Stacey said, flicking hair over her shoulder.

“He’s pretty cute actually,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “oh my god, he’s coming over.”

“Ignore him!” Chloe said.

“I wouldn’t,” Stacey said, only to get smacked by Chloe. “What?”

“You weren’t singing, with the Bellas. You are not one?”

“No,” you said, facing him. He looked really good up close, he was like, a marble statue in a museum. Like on of the ones with the perfectly sculpted muscles.

“Good, I’m Pieter. Let’s get dancing, yeah?”

You looked over your shoulder at the Bellas. All of them were shaking their heads, except for Stacey who was nodding. You said, “yeah, let’s dance.”

After hours of dancing, you and Pieter fumbled back into his hotel room. You didn’t really know what you were doing, but you knew Stacey would be proud.

** After the World Finals **

You hadn’t talked to Pieter since the night of the party. You had let him woo you, ending with you waking up in his hotel room, You hadn’t spoken to him since. But the Bellas had beaten the, so you were standing backstage cheering like crazy for them.

“You were gone,” a voice said, startling you.

“What?” you asked, turning to see Pieter. He looked upset, as he should; he just lost the World Finals.

“When I woke up, you were gone.”

“That was a mistake,” you said, crossing your arms.

“What?”

“Chloe told me that you just wanted dirt on the Bellas to help you win,” you said,

“That is not what I wanted, I wanted you. You looked so beautiful but then you were gone,” he said.

“I thought -” Pieter cut you off with a kiss.

“You were wrong.”

FFXV PROMPTO STORY SPOILERS

HEY IDK HOW TO DO THE UNDER THE CUT THING ON HERE SO UM I WARNED YOU?? FUCK MAN LET’S TALK SOME THEORIES! SCROLL QUICK DON’T LOOK IF YOU HAVEN’T FINISHED THE GAME!! 


So. Prompto. Nifilheim. Let’s talk about some shit. 

Nifilheim breeds humans like livestock to use in their experiments. These humans are branded and numbered at birth. Probably categorized too maybe Idk. So Prompto has this bar code tattooed on his wrist. A key code that can open doors in Nifilheim bases. I always wondered why he always wore that ugly wristband… And now the bracelets but those are cute so I didn’t really question those. He probably has some markings on his arm too. An ID number maybe? That would explain the bandana. We all know it was hiding something. Prompto was born to be turned into a daemon. He somehow escaped the base as a baby or a toddler. He was with Noct in elementary school at age 8, so he must have been too little to remember. I hope his DLC tells us wtf happened and how tf he got into Lucis, Insomnia too of all places damn. So that explains why he had a sad and lonely childhood living alone, no family, no friends, living off of fast food because he can’t cook and it’s cheap so he got fat (I relate rip), and not having a chance to develop or learn any social skills. Thus him being far too nervous to approach Noct when they were kids. Back to the main theory I want to discuss. I am honestly surprised no one has made this connection yet… But I see how it could be very easily overlooked. There is a boss fight in a certain familiar cave we all know. Fociaugh Hollow. We need to go find Ramuh’s totem or whatever, that’s cool. We’ve been in there before in a certain wonderful demo. However, something is very wrong here this time, and it is way more significant than we think. The Naga. She’s a daemon created by Nifilheim, as are all of the daemons. She was once a human… Being breeded… Before being horribly experimented on and transformed into a giant snake daemon. Why does that matter, hmm? Because she says something very, very interesting. She says “My baby…” and grabs, who else? Prompto. She rips Prompto off of the cliff, claiming he is her baby. Is that really what she meant? Possibly. Was she just angry at the intruders? Probably. However, she continues with the weirdly specific dialogue with the boys. She asks Noctis, “My baby… Where?” Now, this might not seem significant, but it’s the answer options that make it so. Noct can answer with “I don’t know”, or “I know where.” Maybe he just wants to bluff to get out of it. Maybe. However if you say you do know where, she immediately claims that you stole him from her. Why would you steal a baby Naga? Why wouldn’t she think “oh you know where he is? Can you bring him here/take me to him?” Maybe because she’s a mindless killing machine? No. She knows where her son is. She wants him back. She misses her baby. She is not just a mindless, heartless killing machine at all. The human who lost her baby is still in there, crying out for her son. Of course, these boys have no idea that’s even the case or that turning humans into daemons is even possible at this point. At this point in the game, they still have no idea where these daemons are coming from, and they still think the MTs are just machines, not daemons inside electronic exoskeletons. Prompto has no clue either. He doesn’t know his mother could be a daemon now. He’s just panicking and freaking out that a giant slimey snake monster just ripped him off of a cliff in a dark scary cave. But that daemon could very possibly be, and probably is, what has become of Prompto’s mother. And the saddest part is, she knows. She knows full well. She recognized him. She knew that was her baby. She knew (assumed) Noct took him from her. When really neither Noct or Prompto have any idea at all who she really is or what happened to her or baby Prompto. She was sad. She wanted her son back. And what’s even more sad? Her son was the one who ended up killing her. 

dragonpressgraphics  asked:

i'm gonna be cliche (sorry) DCJ - prompt : I'm Pregnant . Sorry, i seem to have forgotten what number it was and the screen disappeared when i clicked on this, oops. i think it was mid twenties? but the number isn't important, right?

“I’m Pregnant” 

“Ow fuck!” Dean pulls his hand free of the engine and glares at the blood oozing from the fresh cut on the knuckle of his middle finger.  It looks extra bright against the grease smearing his skin.

His glare shifts to the car he’s working on.  The damn thing has bitten him a few times, and in his head he’s started referring to the old Plymouth as Christine.  

“You okay?” Bobby asks from the open door to the shop’s main office.  

Dean straightens from under the car’s hood and pulls a rag from his back pocket, but realizes using it to clean the cut wouldn’t do much good since it’s filthy.  So he tucks it back in his pocket and heads for the sink at the back of the shop and turns on the water.  Bobby joins him as he starts scrubbing his skin with soap that makes the cut on his knuckle sting.

If it stings, the germs are dying, right?

He doesn’t look up from his hands when he speaks.  “What’s up, Bobby?  Did you need me for something?”  Because there’s enough noise in both the shop and the office that Bobby wouldn’t have heard him cussing over a cut finger, so he must have been there to witness it.

Sure enough, Bobby holds up a thick white envelope.  “You got mail.”

Dean freezes and eyes the envelope.  “Oh.  Uh… leave it there.” He gestures to the counter next to the sink with his chin.  “I’ll look at it when I’m done with Christine.”

Bobby gives him a skeptical look.  The envelope is unremarkable, but Bobby would have seen the return address, which means he knows at least part of Dean’s secret.  But at least Bobby doesn’t prod him for more information.  He drops the envelope on the counter, and pats Dean on the shoulder.  The gesture is accompanied by a kind look, and then Bobby leaves him alone.

Very deliberately, Dean finishes washing his hands, and takes a close look at the cut.  It’s still slowly oozing blood but it doesn’t look like it needs stitches, so he grabs a clean rag and wraps it around the wound.  Finally he lets his eyes fall on the envelope. 

It was pristine white until Bobby smudged it with his fingerprints.  Even working in the office it’s impossible to keep grease-free hands.

He wants to tear the envelope open and find out what it says right away, but his stomach twists with anxiety and he’s afraid to even touch it.  The letter inside it is going to change his life, one way or another.  He’s not sure he’s ready.  Once he reads it, he’s going to have to talk to Jimmy and Castiel about it, and they might not be happy with him for not telling them about it in advance. 

It’s shitty to spring something like this on them.  Especially since his life isn’t the only one that might change because of the contents of that envelope.

So he procrastinates as long as he can, finishing work on Christine, then hanging around the shop a little longer doing paperwork that he usually leaves for Bobby.  At least until Bobby chases him out.  He’s tempted to take a longer route home, but he’s not a complete coward so he drives to the house he’s shared with his husbands.

But he goes the speed limit, and not a mile over.

Castiel’s truck is parked next to Jimmy’s Continental in the driveway, and for once Dean isn’t irritated that they’re blocking him from getting into the garage.  He’s far too engrossed in talking himself out of a mild panic attack.  He pulls up at the curb, and drags his feet on his way into the house.

The envelope is a thick bulge in his back pocket, unopened.

When he opens the door he’s engulfed in the scent of Jimmy’s curry, and the guitar riffs of Metallica’s Black Album.  Castiel’s ruffled dark hair is visible over the back of the couch, and when he hears the door he sits up straight and grins.

“Dean, welcome home!” Castiel bounds up from the couch and into Dean’s arms.  He’s still in his scrubs, so he must not have been home too long.

“Heya, Cas.” Dean nuzzles the curls behind Castiel’s ear and holds him close.  The heat and strength of his husband doesn’t ease his tension as it usually does, because his mind keeps going through all the different ways Castiel might react to the news.

Their greeting alerts Jimmy to Dean’s arrival, and Jimmy appears from the kitchen.  He’s wearing a Kiss the Cook apron that Dean bought him as a joke when they first started living together, and his face is flushed from working over the hot stove.  Castiel releases Dean and steps aside so that Jimmy can have his turn.

“Jimmy,” Dean says on a sigh.  He leans into his other husband and inhales the spices lingering on his skin and hair.

He’s only legally married to Castiel, but the matching rings on their fingers and the devotion they all have for each other transcend a sheet of paper with a fancy stamp and a judge’s signature.  Besides, even if poly marriages were legal, the twins wouldn’t be allowed to marry each other.  So they made their own marriage, and the years they’ve been together have been some of the happiest of Dean’s life.

He just hopes the news hiding inside the envelope in his pocket doesn’t mess it up.

“You’re just in time,” Jimmy says when he steps back.  His hands still rest on Dean’s waist, and personal space be damned.  Both twins crowd him, something that took him time to get used to, but now he loves because too much space usually means someone’s upset about something.  “Dinner’s ready.  Come help me set the table.”

The three of them work together to set the table and set out the rice and fried veggies and curry chicken.  Normally Dean would dig right in to the mouth watering meal, but his stomach is still twisting with worry.  He doesn’t quite pick at his food, but he shows slightly better manners than usual. 

The brothers notice, both of them looking at him curiously, but neither says anything.  Not at first anyway.  It’s not until Dean declines seconds that Jimmy finally crosses his arms on the table and leans forward to catch Dean’s gaze.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” he demands in a tone that says he doesn’t expect any bullshit.  “You’ve been quiet, and you act like you don’t love my cooking, and if you tell me that I added too much paprika, my feelings are going to totally be hurt.”

Castiel joins in on the inquisition, but his voice is gentle, as is the hand he rubs over Dean’s knee under the table.  “Did something happen at work?”

Dean sucks in a deep breath, and let’s it out in a sigh.  “Sort of.”  He hasn’t opened the envelope yet, but work is where he received it, so he’s not exactly lying even though he hasn’t opened it yet.

They watch him silently, their eyes expectant.  Shit.

“Dean?” Castiel prompts when he remains silent.

Because he’s an asshole, he says the first thing that comes to mind.  “I’m pregnant.”

So is the silence in the room as they stare at him in confusion, their heads tilted at the exact same angle, which makes him grin.

“Um, Dean.  Sweetheart.” Jimmy reaches across the table and rests his hand over Dean’s.  “You’re very pretty in panties, but you know you’re a man right?  You’re not equipped for pregnancy.”

“Unless you’ve been keeping something from us,” Castiel adds.

The laugh building up in Dean’s chest collapses, and his shoulders sink.  He pulls his hand free of Jimmy’s and reaches into his pocket for the envelope, dropping it on the table between the plates and serving dishes.  It’s crumpled from being folded in his pocket, and has even more greasy fingerprints smeared across it.

But the KU logo is clearly visible through the grimy fingerprints.

Identical pairs of blue eyes go wide, but Castiel is the first to reach for the envelope.  He turns it over in his hands, and looks up at Dean when he sees that it’s still sealed.  “You applied for college?”

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jimmy asks.

Dean squirms in his chair.  “I didn’t want to get my hopes up.  And if I get in, I’ll have to cut down my hours at the shop and I don’t want to make things harder on you guys, so I’m not sure I’ll even-“

“Oh yes you fucking will,” Castiel growls.  He holds the unopened envelope to Dean.  “I think I can speak for both of us when I say that you’re an idiot if you don’t think we’ll support you through this.”

“What he said,” Jimmy adds.

Heat suffuses Dean’s cheeks under their reproachful glares.  Even though he’s only a year younger than them, he feels like he’s being scolded by older brothers.  Which should probably be weird since the three of them fuck each other almost daily, but since that also includes them fucking each other, it’s not nearly as weird to him as anyone else might find it.

Sheepishly he accepts the envelope and stares down at the KU logo.  He can feel the weight of his husbands’ stares, but they remain silent and let him go at his own pace.  Which is one of the things he loves about them.  And they’re right that he was being stupid by worrying about their reaction. 

So he takes the plunge, and rips the envelope open.  Inside is a fat bundle of paper, which he assumes is a good sign, but he holds his breath until he reads the cover letter.  As the news sinks in, a grin spreads across his face.

“Well?” Castiel demands when he doesn’t say anything.

Dean’s laugh is shaky with the threat of tears, but they’re from happiness and relief.  He passes the letter to Castiel, who brightens almost as soon as his eyes fall on the words on the page.  “Well,” he says, when Castiel passes the letter on to Jimmy.  “I guess I’d better talk to Bobby about those shorter hours.”

The legs of two chairs scrape across the floor, and then Dean is at the bottom of a pile of Novaks.  They’re laughing and congratulating him, and promising to give him all the support he needs, and Dean thinks not for the first time, that he’s a very lucky bastard to have them in his life.

anonymous asked:

Cas and Dean are married and are cleaning out their closet and see their suits they wore on their wedding day and they see that Dean has "outgrown" his a little since then... Take it away!

“Cas! Hey, Cas! Come in here!”

Cas drafts his email and closes his laptop before heading toward his and Dean’s bedroom. He stands in the doorway and crosses his arms, watching Dean rummage through the closet. OK, fine, he watches Dean’s ass as he rummages through the closet.

“This is a nice view, Dean, but why exactly am I here?”

Dean turns around quickly, holding up a tux in each hand. “Look what I found.”

Cas steps into the room. “Are those our–”

“Wedding tuxes, yeah. I didn’t even know we still had these, dude.”

“I didn’t either,” Cas answers absentmindedly as he runs his hands over the sleeve of his own suit jacket. It brings back a lot of good memories, of nervously saying vows and ripping them off in the bathroom for a quickie before the reception and then ripping them off again on the dance floor at the reception and then ripping them off again in the hotel room later that night–

“C’mon, let’s try them on,” Dean says excitedly, already heading toward the bathroom.

“Um, why?” 

“Because! It’ll be fun.” Dean moves in close to Cas and whispers in his ear, “And we can roleplay our wedding night.”

“Dean, I’m not sure that’s a good–”

“Why the hell not?”

Because it’s been 10 years since our wedding, and you’ve put on at least 50 pounds since then. “Fine. Give me mine.”

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He was a skinny business man. But when his job affected his appetite he craved for more greasy fattening fast food. After multiple burgers day his colleagues noticed his weight gain. Day after day of stuffing and pigging out he became a fat slob. His xl vest is about to rip open. His dress pants are as tight as skin around his new flabby thighs and around his fat ass. His double chin sagging so much it stretched out his collar for more of his fat face

anonymous asked:

hnng I love all this twink Ross stuff. Do you think that you could maybe right some twink ross/daddy brian smut? Like Brian fucking Ross super hard into the bed

Hey sorry this took so long, I got a bit carried away and wrote over 5000 words which is almost 12 pages on word. Probably the longest fic I’ve written on here. Hope you enjoy. 

Tutor Sessions

“Mr. O’Donovan I know you have no interest in this subject but can you at least try to pretend that you’re listening?” Dr. Wecht’s tone had a hint of annoyance in it although by now he was used to Ross’s behaviour.

Ross looked up from his arm which he was drawing video game characters on and smirked at his professor.

“I’m sorry Sir I didn’t take an acting class.”

Stifled laughter filled the room, and Brian glared at the class, mainly focused on Ross, his eye’s piecing and Ross felt a shiver down his spin.

“Clearly,” Brian remarked drily before carrying on with his lesson and Ross carried on drawing.

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i hate that popular post that’s like “iron bull isn’t ripped but he also isn’t fat!!!” and like …. my dude …. my guy …. iron bull is strongfat and there’s nothing you can say to convince me otherwise. 

Creepypasta #707: I Tried This Drug At A Party And I Don’t Think I’m OK Now

Story length: Super long

The first time I tried Dante, I killed a guy. After I finished kicking him, I asked Steve if he wanted to. Steve did, so he kicked the guy again. Hard. In the head.

Blood came out. Steve kept kicking him. Blood kept coming out. Other shit too. White shit. I grabbed Steve and told him we had to go, like right fucking now.

Steve was smiling as he stomped him, one more time in the neck. And then we ran out of the alley, our feet echoing. Above us, placed on the edge of the streetlight, cameras filmed us until we disappeared from the scene.

The next day, it was in the news. I googled it, which I realized was a huge fucking mistake. Everything you do leaves traces. Everything you do is a mark in the world.

The dude died. The cops were saying no suspects. He was a lawyer, but just a tax lawyer, not a flashy prosecutor or anything. Not the kind of lawyer who would have dudes trying to kill him. Not “trying to kill him,” I guess. We killed him for real.

Steve and I were coming home from some party and we saw the lawyer walking by himself. My memory feels messed up. I don’t really remember what was going in. I remember the party, but only, like, moments from it. It was really loud. I remember talking to someone about it. Telling them it was too loud. Right when we were about to leave, Steve pulled me into the bathroom.

“Want some of this?”

He had a baggie. Bright white powder.

“Coke?”

“Naw,” he said, pouring some out on the sink basin.

“I don’t want meth dude. Your teeth fall out, you get all Midwestern gothic, it’s —”

“Naw, naw, it’s not meth. It’s Dante. Here,” he handed me a rolled up twenty. “Try.”

He was right. It wasn’t meth.

Keep reading

Fifty Shades Of Clifford

Hood / Irwin


“Quit biting your lip,” Michael growled. “Yeah? Or what?” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “Quit it, Y/N. You know what that does to me.” He licked his lips, staring at me intently. “What are you gonna do about it? You gonna punish me?” I taunted, batting my eyelashes. “You’re walking on thin ice, Y/N,” He warned. “Now, I told you to stop.”

“Make me.”

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. He scoffed, leaning against the kitchen counter. “What did you just say to me?” Oh shit. Time to get on my knees and apologize…or maybe not. Hell, I was already fucked. He was so wound up he was about to burst. Maybe I could give him some help with that tension…I walked over to Michael slowly, dragging my bare feet across the tile. “I said,” I started, raising an eyebrow. “Make. Me.” His light green eyes burned into mine. Oh shit, I was in for it. “You get one more chance, babygirl,” He growled, licking his lips. “What did you say to me?” I chuckled. “Are you deaf? I said-” All of a sudden I was up against the wall with his large, rough hand wrapped around my throat. “Do you want to be punished, Y/N?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “You don’t tell me what to do. So you know what? I dare you. Make me.” He shook his head and sighed. “You asked for it.” He crashed his lips into mine, pressing his body up against me. I tried to grab a hold of his flame coloured hair, but he took hold of my wrists and held them above my head. He circled his hips against me, and I moaned into his mouth. He slid his tongue in between my lips, meeting mine. “Who’s in control here?” He whispered. “I am,” I said defiantly, pushing him off of me. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that,“ He hissed. I traipsed to our bedroom, pulling off my shirt and sports bra and throwing them on the floor. “C'mon, Mikey! Catch me if you can!” I giggled. “Don’t try to play with me, Y/N,“ he warned, getting angrier by the minute. Mission accomplished! He was fun when he was angry. “Too laaaate!” I sang, hopping on the bed. “You seem tense, babe,” I purred, pulling him over to the bed by his tie. “Rough day at the office?” I asked, pushing him down and sitting on his lap. “Something like that,” He said, seething quietly. “Want me to make it better?” I offered, nipping his earlobe. “Awfully naughty today, aren’t we?” He chuckled. “You love it,” I whispered, palming him through his slacks. All of a sudden, he had me flipped over onto my back. “You just can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you, baby?” He chuckled, holding me down. He sat up, straddling me, and undid his tie. “Arms out,” He demanded. I did as I was told, and he roughly tied my hands to the headboard. “That should fix our little problem, yeah?” He smirked, admiring his handiwork. I tugged against my restraints; he had gotten better with knots since the last time we attempted this. “Been practicing, eh?” I smirked. “Shut up before I gag you too.” He narrowed his eyes at me. He placed his lips to my neck, moving down my body slowly with his hands following closely behind. He stopped at my breasts. He took one of my nipples in his mouth and sucked hard, letting his hands drift between my legs, rubbing my core through my flimsy shorts. “Fuck…Mikey,” I groaned, squirming underneath his touch. He kissed down my belly, leaving harsh love bites all over my skin. He ripped off my shorts and panties and licked a fat stripe up my dripping heat. “Oh my God, Michael! No teasing!” I pleaded. He ran his hand gently over my thighs, sending shivers down my spine. “You were a bad girl. You’re going to get punished. So, how should I punish you? You like spanking too much,” He mused. I grinned sheepishly. “Shall we go with…over stimulation?” He paused to ram 2 fingers inside of me. “Fuck!” I squeaked at the sudden pain. “Or…” He stroked my clit softly with his thumb. “Orgasm denial?” He suggested, abruptly pulling his fingers out of me and licking them clean. “You wouldn’t,” I hissed. “Oh, but baby, I would.” He smirked at me. He leaned in and kissed me, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m gonna ask you again, Y/N, and you better hold that smart tongue of yours and answer me correctly. Who’s in control here, baby?” He whispered against my lips. This was it, time to raise the white flag. “You are…Sir.” He perked up. “So now you’re going to be a good girl?” He chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt. I pulled against my restraints, wanting to rake my nails down his chest. “Patience, baby. Stay silent and still, and be good, and you may not get punished at all.” I huffed and went limp as he slowly undressed, enjoying every agonizing second of my hungry eyes scanning his body. He pulled off his pants and boxers, and his rock-hard member slapped against his stomach. “But Sir, are you sure you want me to stay silent and still? I think you’d like that smart tongue of mine a lot more if it was on your cock,” I suggested innocently, batting my eyelashes. He shook his head. “Not only are you blatantly disobedient, Y/N, even after you have gotten yourself in an immense amount of trouble, you continue to try to piss me off. You really need to learn your lesson.” “And what lesson is that?” I giggled. “We’ll save it for next time,” He smirked, lining himself up with my entrance. “Right now I need to be inside you.” He slammed into me roughly. We’d had sex plenty of times, so I was used to his size, but it still hurt every once in a while. My pain quickly turned into pleasure as he began moving, hard and fast. I bucked my hips up to meet his, craving the friction. “Sir…I’m close,” I gasped. I was already in trouble, but I’d be as good as dead if I came without permission. “Cum for me baby,” He whispered in my ear as I hit my high. “Oh my God, Y/N,” He groaned loudly, releasing into me. “You know, we have the best sex when you’re pissed off, Mikey,” I giggled as he pulled out and collapsed next to me. “Shut up and suck my cock,” He laughed. “I am getting a little tired of that smart tongue of yours.” “Um, Michael?“ I asked. “I need you to untie me first.”


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South Park drinking game if you wanna die of alcohol poisoning
  • drink everytime Cartman denies he's fat
  • drink everytime Cartman rips on Kyle for being a Jew
  • drink everytime Kenny dies
  • drink everytime Butters is grounded
  • drink everytime someone says "I learned something today"
  • drink everytime Mr Mackey says "Mkay"
  • drink everytime Stan stutters the word "friend" in "Kenny dies"
  • drink everytime someone says "shit" in "It hits the fan" (only if you REALLY want to die of alcohol poisoning)
  • drink at every mention of wieners in the "Black Friday" trilogy
  • drink everytime a Canadian farts
Ching Chong you're extremely wrong

You and Calum we’re enjoying a nice movie and you were getting kind of hungry.
“Hey let’s get some food.” You said.
“Ok what kind of food?” Calum asked.
“I kind of want some Chinese food.” You answered.
“OH MY GOD WHAT THE ACTUAL FRICK FRACK DIDDLY DACK, Y/N. IM NOT EVEN ASIAN YOU’RE EXTREMELY WRONG, WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT YOU RACIST PIECE OF SHIT?” Calum exclaimed.
He swung his arm toward your head and hit you in the head with the remote. He is just so mad at you and he can’t control his anger. He throws your body to the floor and slowly cuts off your scalp. After you wake up from getting knocked out from getting hit with the remote, he forces you to watch him put your scalp into a blender, liquefying it. He duct tapes your feet to a table and pulls off each toenail with pliers. As the liquid sloshes around in the blender, he drills a hole in your skull and sticks a long piece of iron through the hole and sloshes your brain around. He then shoves all the toenails into the cavity that holds the sloshy brain fluid. He then rips the fat off of your lower back and plugs the drill hole with it. He fills a syringe with the scalp liquid and inserts it into your body through your anal cavity. He used a wine cork to plug your anus and shook your body around for a couple of minutes. The scalp fluid began to degrade your organs and when the mixture was made, he pulled the cork out and shoved it down your windpipe. The fluids all cascaded gracefully out of the cavity of anus resembling the majestic falls of Niagara. He rolls your carcass in the fluid and proceeds to cut off both of your boobs. He put them in the freezer to expand them. Then he sews them onto his own chest. He consumes your entire body except your bones which he makes a swing out of for him and Luke now that he can pass as a female that Luke is attracted to. When they finally decide do the do, Luke will realize that Calums Ching Chong is very much wrong