Names Brooke Ivy. I live in the middle of nowhere Virginia and wouldn't move away if you paid me. I have a love for music, Harry Potter, fishing, bonfires, and horror movies. Simple things amuse me and I get along with everyone. Ask me anything. I'm always here to talk and I genuinely care I promise.
His head turns fractionally toward me, his eyes darkest slate. I bite my lip. “Oh, fuck the paperwork,” he growls. He lunges at me, pushing me against the wall of the elevator. Before I know it, he’s got both of my hands in one of his in a vice-like grip above my head, and he’s pinning me to the wall using his hips. Holy shit. His other hand grabs my ponytail and yanks down, bringing my face up, and his lips are on mine. It’s only just not painful. I moan into his mouth, giving his tongue an opening. He takes full advantage, his tongue expertly exploring my mouth. I have never been kissed like this.
shout out to all of the custodians, cooks, garbage truck drivers, cafeteria workers, bus drivers, waiters, and every one else whose jobs and entire fucking existences get shit on by the same people who wouldn’t know what to do with their lives if they had to do anything for themselves
Are we really not going to talk about the guy in the back who is attached to another guy’s back while spinning?
WHAT ABOUT THE GUY THAT FALLS OUT OF THE WINDOW
WHY IS IT BACK
no you guys don’t understand, not only is this the first harlem shake out there… these guys aren’t normal military. This is “Telemarkbataljonen”. They’re pretty much the Norwegian equivalent of the fucking black ops. My brother knows a guy in this battalion, and when asked what they do there, he looked my brother dead in the eye and said “That is strictly confidential”. These guys are hard as shit, which makes this even more hilarious