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When I went into the office the next day everybody ignored me. So I walked up to a coworker and said "Hey, why are you ignoring me, you're a bit sussy!" He reached for the red phone and I was reminded it looked like the Among us character. So I said "When the phone is sus hahahahhah" and I did the Linus tech tips disappointed face. "Get it? Do you use reddit?" He was talking to management when I cut the phone cord and threw it across the office. I said "Red was the imposter! hahahah!" And I did the among us drip song. "Ding ding ding ding ding, ding ding ding!" He wasn't smiling and he punched me but I said "You're sus! You're the imposter I saw you vent!" He was angry and he tried to punch me again but I grabbed his fist and said "Omae wa mo shinderu." He tried to punch me again he is a loser! He didn't even get my anime reference. So I took off my pants and shoved them on my his head. "You just got pantsed! HAhahahah" and I did the pepe smile and ran out of the office. Who wants to talk to an IMPOSTER? Stupid bitch

EU "Expect Unsatisfaction” is known as the fastest region to arrive at the Airport. Since they gave up on the LoL Worlds Championship, they are investing in Speedruns. In particular they are current worldrecord holders in Airport no wins Any %

Donald Trump shuffled toward the entrance of his suite with considerable effort, swiping at his brow and rubbing his fingers together in vexation. All he could think about was Joe Biden's clever, biting remarks about his person and his dress shirt, which has gotten too small for him over the course of a month and now chafed uncomfortably around his shoulders and his stomach. Surely he had won the debate, he thought as he tightened himself around the plug that his wife had wedged inside of him; he was louder than good ol’ Sleepy Joe, and if that is not an indication of winning, then nothing is. He stopped just outside of his room and attempted to fish out his key card from his breast pocket, resisting a strong urge to tear out his hair in vexation as he realized that he had forgotten the damned thing in the room. His secret agents stopped a couple respectful feet behind him, the silence felt almost mocking. He turned around. "What is your name again, Demetri? Surely you have a copy?" He said, the strength in his words petered out as he scrutinized the expressionless faces of the men before him. Though they were dressed impeccably, Don could not find Demetri – or whatever that secret fanfiction poster’s name was – among the men before him. Odd. Did they give him a memo regarding this change? He almost stumbled when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he spun around and found himself face to face with Joe Biden. Oh, the bastard's followed him all the way up here. Don began. “Listen, mister, I don’t know what you are doing following me to my room, and if you don’t stop my man will....” Joe laughed. "Men, stand down and stand by," Joe said with a drawl. Don's tiny pig eyes widened with surprise, but he swallowed all insults and protests bubbling at the back of his throat as soon as he felt something resembling the muzzle of a handgun wedged under his collar and into the back of his neck. Don dared not to yell and merely gasped as he felt Joe’s perspiring hand crept up his wrinkly auburn neck, tugging at his tie. Speechless at the scene unfolding before him, he squeezed his eyes shut as his remaining braincell struggle to come up with something, anything that can make Joe stop. Joe handed his gun to the nearest agent. "Keep your eyes on him, folks." Don almost sagged in relief, but tensed at another hand tracing a careful line from his trembling chest to his half-awakened member and froze as he sensed Joe nuzzling into the top of Don’s head, burying his nose into Don’s flowing blonde curls. Joe sighed and sniffed at his hair; it was a harsh, rattling sound that made Don quiver and whimper. “Will you shut up, man?” Joe said, tilting his head up and crushing his lips into Don’s with such a passion that made Don’s knees weak with desire, a lust that crackles at the point of contact and shots down to his groin, a rippling pleasure unlike any he had felt before in his senile spine. He moaned into the kiss and lifted a tiny orange hand, carding his sausage fingers in Joe’s hair as the kiss deepens, eagerly drinking in the taste of his biggest political rival— peppermint, moth balls, and something that is so deliciously and uniquely Joe that made him shudder at every flick and twirl of Joe’s tongue. He let out a muffled keen as Joe began to suckle on his tongue, making vulgar, wet noises that seemed to reverberate in the hallway. They separated, both dizzy in the heat of their exhalations. Don bit down on his paper-thin bottom lip to suppress another moan, grasping at Joe’s dress shirt with his timid yet desperate little hands. He managed to get his stubby fingers on the first button of Joe’s garment before Joe swatted his hands away, grasping his wrists and pinning it on the wall behind him. “Get the f— fuck off of me, Sleepy Joe,” Don whined, straining against the restraint. Affected by a myriad of permanent health consequences of COVID-19 and breathless from arousal, he huffed with parted lips as Joe leaned in, whose breath fanned hotly over his already churning face. Joe chuckled. “Riled up, aren’t you?” He said. Joe sneaked two pale fingers under the sweat-drenched fabric of Don’s partially unbuttoned top and squeezed at one of his saggy man tits, rubbing and twisting his nipple until the bit of flesh between Joe’s fingers swell with interest. The strange sensation made Don struggle against Joe’s hand once more, aching to lay his hands on his fully hardened member. Yet Joe’s vise-like grip only tightened minutely in response, the other hand explored his squirming form, palming his thighs and cupping his ass, squeezing and touching anywhere but his cock. "I – Let me –" Don said, panting with exertion and watching with desperation as Joe freed his erection from the confines of his own slacks instead, stroking it languidly. Joe said with a chuckle, "What did I say about using your big boy words, eh Donnie? What's the magic word?" Joe let the tip of his index finger graze the exposed patches of pale, wrinkly skin, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as Don arched into his touch. Don gulped audibly, his cheeks burning with shame as he heard himself say, "let me touch myself." "You forgot to say the magic word." "Please," Don said, almost inaudible, and his whole body quaked at Joe's hand nimbly undoing his fly and grasping loosely around his inadequate length, giving it a few purposefully lackluster pumps before it slid down and under his wrinkly ball sack. He felt Joe’s fingers pause as it touched the smooth, circular base of his plug, tracing around it inquisitively. “Naughty, naughty boy, wearing his little toy to a presidential debate, huh?” Joe said, fingers digging between the base of the plug and Don’s skin and gave it a violent twist, shoving his index finger alongside the plug. The sudden movement made Don clinch down on the newfound fullness that was almost painful, which sent a pang of humiliating ecstasy that churned hotly in Don’s stomach. Joe hooked his fingers around the base and pulled the plug out completely, giving Don hardly any time to breathe before sending it back in with a cruel thrust; the lines deepened with a smirk on Joe’s wrinkly raisin face as Don moaned wantonly, bucking his hips back toward Joe’s hand impatiently as he began to fuck Don with the toy at a torturously slow pace. Joe leaned in, nibbling Don’s earlobe after licking a smoldering stripe on the shell of Don’s ear. “Your little cock is leaking, Donnie boy, so eager, so desperate for more,” he said in a rumbling, guttural whisper as he took out the plug, which parted with Don’s hole with a moist pop. Don whined at the sudden vacancy inside him, his watery blue eyes filled with tears of yearning and humiliation, looking at the passionless face of his political rival through the haze of arousal, unsure if he wanted to plead or wanted to kill. He tightened his hole again and felt the loss, the lack. He knew what he had to do. “Please,” Don rasped, tasting the word as it took form as if he was saying it for the first time. Joe mercifully complied without further biting comments, spreading Don’s legs and without a warning, slid into Don’s slick, loosened hole with relative ease. Don groaned at the intrusion, clenching around the familiar width and rutting his hips to the rhythm. Joe cursed under his breath and finally let go of Don’s wrists, lifting Don’s thighs and spreading him out further before he snapped his hips and slammed his cock inside of Don at a relentless pace. Don could do nothing but to hold onto Joe’s forearms as the latter used him, moaning and wailing at every reentry as he worked his tiny hand about his equally tiny dick with fervor. Climax hit him at the rate of the increase in unemployment rate during his mishandling of a global pandemic and every subsequent plunge in his overstimulated hole made him see white, and Joe too came all over Don’s ruined suit after a few irregular thrusts. Don yelped as Joe let go of him, his tub of lard body slammed into the ground with a painful thud. He sat there dazed as Joe tucked himself back in and mumbled lowly. “I am going to fire all of you, and I will sue you, I am suing every single one of you –“ Joe laughed mirthlessly. “Republitard seethe, Joe Mama 2020.” Don’s unfocused gaze seemed to be locked on the floral pattern of the carpet beneath him as the men departed. The door beside him creaked open and from which Mel emerged. “Donald? A good fucking I hope?” He didn’t look at her; he simply grunted in response. Mel sighed with exasperation, tapping the wooden frame of the entrance impatiently. “Can you at least clean up? I arranged a cuckholding session with the Mexican hooker and I want you as a part of it.” “Okay,” Don said. And when he finally looked up, the woman’s face was a stiff, strange marble form upon which a scowl was etched eternally, bearing nothing more than a semblance to the woman that he had briefly loved. As the author I would normally delve deeper into the emotional landscape of our victim as it brings the story to life, but it is hard to imagine that such a two-faced, immoral, unintelligent animal like Don would have the heart and soul necessary for feelings beyond insatiable greed and rage.

you fell off + ratio + you're white + you're british + who asked + no u + deez nuts + radio + don't care + didn't ask + i'm a minor + i'm neurodivergent + caught in 4k + cope + seethe + GG + in 1947 the world's first general purpose computer, the 30 ton ENIAC was created + your mom's + the hood watches markiplier now + grow up + L + L (part 2) + retweet + ligma + taco bell tortilla crunch + think outside the bun + ur benched + ur a wrench + i own you + ur dad fell off + my dad could beat ur dad up + ur aimhacking + silver elite + tryhard + boomer + sksksksk + ur beta + i'm sigma + ur submissive + L (part 3) + yb better + ur sus + this is a cry for help and i'm extremely depressed. + quote tweet + you're cringe + i did your mom + you bought monkey nft + you're weirdchamp + you're a clown

One day jerma got so angry at the one guy in chat who was being mean and spamming residentsleeper, he quite literally stuck his hands into his screen and yanked really hard. Out came this 5'9 brown haired highschooler who instantly began begging for his life. However, jerma growled really loud and started chanting the lyrics to "I'm a Walrus" by the beatles. The mods, the chat, no one could stop what happened next. Chat was spamming PauseChamp. Then Jerma just grabbed the poor highschooler by his neck and lifted him off the floor and began to spin him really fast.. His guts came flying out with the sheer force that jerma used to spin him. The camera was stained with blood and chat was all spamming monkaW and "LULW typical One guy moment". After a couple of moments jerma wiped the red marking from the camera and sat back down as if nothing happened. The weirdest part was that he started talking about soy milk and how he wasn't a sponsor with any soy milk company. He seemed quite annoyed that he wasnt a sponsor but continued to elaborate on how much he loved soy milk, but only that one specific brand of soy milk. I'm telling you, the one guy residentsleeper spammers are annoying as hell. EDIT: Unfortunately that segment of the VOD was deleted due to DMCA issues with Jerma singing The Beatles.

The exact moment I knew I was gay is when I first started watching SpongeBob. I didn't know what it was about him that made me want him so badly, but every time an episode came on my dick became rock solid. I knew I wanted to do more than merely watch this sponge. I wanted to fuck his tight little juicy asshole. For years, I dreamed of pounding him from behind and filling him with my cum and watching it drip out of his pores. However, no matter how many times I choked my chicken to the mere thought of him, my lust for this sexy succulent sea sponge could not be satisfied. I tried everything, body pillows, dolls, even hiring a prostitute to dress up in a SpongeBob costume and suck my cock. Nothing was good enough. So, I made it my number one goal to create a hyper-realistic SpongeBob sex doll, so my fantasies could finally be brought to life. No longer will those who also have a unquenchable thirst for Mr. SquarePants have to dream of releasing their sticky seed inside of his anal cavity, for they can now enjoy the real thing. But, creating this sex doll would not be an easy task, and this I knew. That's why I need your help to fund this Kickstarter. For donating $20, you get a T-shirt that says "I'm gay for SpongeBob SquarePants." For $40, you get the shirt and a coffee cup decorated with the finest SpongeBob rule 34. For $60, you get SpongeBob anal beads. For $100, you get a SpongeBob fleshlight that you can jizz in or whatever, plus all the other shit. Anything less than $20, and I'll just cum in a shoe box and mail it to your door, because fuck you I don't need your peasant change. I would like to make the world a better place with this SpongeBob sex doll, because I believe that everyone deserves the right to stick their dick in a fictional sponge from a kid's show.

You will never be a crewmate. You have no purpose on this ship, you have no tasks, you have no mini games to play. You are an impostor twisted into a crude mockery of crewmatery. All the validation you get is two-faced and halfhearted. In emergency meetings people call you sus. The other players are disgusted and ashamed of you, your friends laugh at your sussy appearance in ghost chat. Crewmates are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of games have allowed crewmates to identify impostors with incredible efficiency. Even impostors who fake tasks act uncanny and suspicious to a crewmate. Your jumping in vents is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a crewmate to electrical with you, he'll turn tail and use the emergency button the second he gets the suspicion that you sabotaged. You will never be a winner. You wrench out a fake task every single game and tell yourself it is going to be a win, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight. Eventually it will be too much to bear - people will vote you out for being sus and will plunge you into the cold abyss. Your parents will report your body, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They will eject you with a headstone marked with your birth tag, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know an impostor is drifting there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably sus.

Among us has ruined a generation. Everywhere I go, I see their divisor. It can't be stopped. I go shopping and I find among us mini figures. I look online for a better bin, and then I find a trash can with a red colour, and I can't stop myself saying "HAHA THATS A BIT SUSSY!" I look for champion clothes, but hold on- if you rotate the c it turns into- oh no... Gen Z wont stop saying a sentence without the word SUS in it. SOS? SUS. I go to Mcdonalds to cheer myself up, but while browsing through my phone, I find that a nugget in the shape of AMOGUS sold for over $1000 dollars, I only wanted peace, but innersloth has become a bit sussy.

Instead of saying ACAB(all cops are bastar*ds) we should start saying ACAS(all cops are sus). Think about it, it's less offensive and it only shows that we think that a cop might be sus(suspicious) of something but not necesseraly guilty of it. It's the same thing in the popular game amogus with thinking that all red players are impostors really. This might sound stupid but hear me out. Statistically, every player regardless of their color has the same chance of being the impostor, yet, there is this social stigma that only red players are impostors. However, players of Amugus have developed this great system that will help them show their suspicion on someone without saying that they are the impostor(in case that they actually aren't). They say that someone is 'sus' so nobody gets their feelings hurt. We can apply this knowledge to the real world, right? If everyone can be an impostor in amongsus, regardless of their color, so can anyone be a bastard in real world, regardless of their task(job as some low inteligence individuals might call it).