#gross out

[neryscrossoverparty]

I Know what he's doing here

Mudsy, if you can't prove that you are still worthy of the toilet (IE Doing it properly, not peeing over the stall and into the next one like a weirdo) then you're gonna have to spend some time in Dips, Y'know what i mean!

Capiche?

[onebadpunspoilsabunch]

draw sparky sparkeroni farting pls

I...

Say what?!

I drew him with Hitch once. And as a teenager. But you want me to draw him farting?! No way, José.

BTW, out of curiosity, I decided to look up images of Sparky farting:

What the heck XD

I also saw this:

I don't feel good about any of this, but whatever. It's for little kids. They find poop funny, right?

[secret-bastard-daughter-of-wdf]

Seriously the creepiest Grocery Outlet I've ever been in... also, can someone explain Sweet Dreams *breakfast* cereal???

[jillyb2004]

Warning ⚠️ Fetish Alert 🚨

KEEP

SCROLLING

NOW!!!!!

Happy 10th Anniversary to Sanjay and Craig!

Based on this infamous episode

🥴

[spilladabalia]

Marc Riley with The Creepers - Gross

[lacostaspetshop]

Ugglys Pet Shop lot

[pony-central]

The Gross Out Gang - Sick Boyfriend, DrugFriend, Dave Sides, Nathan Files and PonyCentral

Fun Fact - I started picking my nose in primary school at a school play I did a long time ago. It was caught on camera, and it was kind of embarrassing. Still, everyone's picked their noses at least once in their lifetime, so it's a normal habit of mine

Another Fun Fact - I made my own name for DrugFriend - Daniel "DrugFriend" Handles. Just gotta think of one for Sick Boyfriend

[junkyarddemento]

BUZZKILL

Horror or gore specific animation that's good and entertaining isn't common. So when I come across something like Peter Ahern's BUZZKILL, I can't help to smile and watch it a couple of times. Not only is the animation top notch and beautifully disgusting, but the story is fun and wild. Let's hope Peter continues to make more genre themed content or possibly a series.

[pastelicide]

Fuck all horror filmbros, here’s my controversial opinion

Most gross horror films rely on the element of disgust, not fear. If a movie is disgusting, it’s not scary, it’s just gross.

I saw a TikTok I’m gonna put here when I find it, but subconsciously, a lot of people (usually horror bros) consider being extremely disgusted as horror, when it doesn’t correlate because disgust isn’t the opposite of horror, it’s comedy. Something that is funny can also be very horrifying, and vice versa, however nasty is another element all together.

These horror bros can’t sympathize with legit impactful stories (probably because they’re usually the thing the film is criticizing but that’s another discussion all together) so they assume that nasty shit like A Serbian Film and the Vomit Gore Trilogy are actual good horror movies “because they embody etc. etc.” and it pisses me off

These are the same people that would never sit through Martyrs and would heavily criticize I Spit on Your Grave for the wrong reasons

reblog + in the tags what your controversial horror opinion is

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Just your average male living space.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[scramratz]

Now that I'm in my 20s, the dudes my age who would date high schoolers are even more revolting. I can't even stand listening to two teens having a conversation, and you want to date one???? Electric chair.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

no more fan-ta-sizing about it! everything's already changed~

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[lonelyzarquon]

[aftg4rd]

hell of a workout pt. 2 💪🏽💦

[inkskinned]

we were sitting on the floor and i was cutting out tiny pictures to make a collage for a friend's birthday. you were on your phone and you laughed about something, and i was still in love with you then, so i asked what had you giggling.

"sorry. i was just..." you took a moment and went back to texting. "i was telling someone about how you're afraid of the dark."

i'm afraid of the dark because something bad happened. "oh." i felt a little slinky of shame crawl down my throat.

you glanced up, and maybe it showed on my face, because you rolled your eyes and held the phone to the side casually so i could see the group chat. "what? was it a secret?"

i looked down to the scissors in my hand. "i just..." no, it's not a secret. it just felt like something private, something serious. saying why would you tell someone that just feels like an accusation. it's unfair. i honestly am not even ashamed of it, it's just a fact about my person that i don't usually share.

what a strange experience. is this a human thing or a generational thing? for our grandparents: did they need to worry about how quickly someone can just... share your personal information? again, i didn't even really have a true objection. what could i say? i want any person in my life to feel they can be honest with their friends. it's not like i said don't tell anyone this.

i cut out another letter to complete the rainbow happy birthday, started hunting for the exclamation mark. i heard you sigh dramatically.

"don't make a big deal about this," you said.

this entire conversation was a pattern for us, and this was when we got to my least favorite part of the pattern. i would get my feelings hurt in some oblique not-technically-terrible way, and then it would be making a big deal about something. you'd get frustrated for me for being soft, but i was born soft. you knew i was soft when you pierced me. it's one of the things that made controlling me so easy.

"i'm not," i felt my voice crack. the question came without my wanting. "why are you guys talking about me?" and why are you saying that thing? why not like - i'm telling them how you're generous and kind and pretty.

you let out this low, tragic groan. "oh my god." you tossed the phone away from your body. "there, see? i just won't talk to them if you don't like it."

the rest of the hour went the way it always went, between us: i said i don't actually mind if you talk to your friends but -, you found a way to call my minor expression of discomfort "being dramatic." you got upset that i had been offended. i ended up apologizing, even though i hadn't actually done anything.

afterwards, you picked up the phone again. after texting for a little bit, you snorted. "okay," you said, "but it is kind of funny you're afraid of the dark. i mean, when you think about it."