Crowley: Tomorrow Is Garbage Day.

We're on a new platform with a totally different audience...we have to prove ourselves all over again...convince a totally new group of people to think we're funny and worth your attention....so allow me to drop some of my "A" material....the funniest thing I got.......here goes....... jeef berky

Damn .... it's me

Your phone battery percentage determines what year of the 1900s you'll live in.

How screwed are you?

Congratulations!

You reached the bedrock after u scrolled ur feed so deep.

spotify is raising prices again here's the apk that gives you premium for free

WAIT PEOPLE ON TUMBLR ARE REAL FUCKING PEOPLE

Elevator Passions

Warnings

Smut

Y/N sauntered into the bullpen, leather jacket squeaking as she walked. She headed straight for her desk, not making eye contact with anyone. The rest of the team watched her warily. Ever since her blow up with Gibbs last week, she'd been quiet and closed off.

Tony sidled up next to her desk. "So, Y/N/N, you coming out with us tonight?" He gave her his most charming smile.

She didn't even glance at him. "Not really in the mood, DiNozzo."

McGee piped up from his desk. "Come on, Y/N. It'll be fun!"

"Yeah, we haven't seen you outside of work in weeks," Tony wheedled.

Y/N finally looked up, pinning them both with an icy stare. "I said no. Now drop it."

Tony and McGee exchanged a look but didn't press the issue. Ever since Y/N had joined the team a little over a year ago, she'd been like a little sister to them. Former Marine, tough as nails, and beautiful to boot. But lately, something had changed.

Gibbs strolled in then, coffee in hand. "Gear up. Dead petty officer in Anacostia."

The team scrambled to collect their things. As they headed to the elevator, Gibbs grabbed Y/N's arm.

"You good for this?" His steely blue eyes searched hers.

Y/N yanked her arm away. "I'm fine."

Gibbs studied her a moment longer before giving a curt nod. They joined the others in the elevator, tension thick between them.

At the crime scene, Y/N immediately got to work photographing evidence while McGee bagged and tagged. Tony interviewed witnesses while Gibbs examined the body.

"Single gunshot wound to the back," Ducky pronounced. "No exit wound, so the bullet likely fragmented inside the body. I'll know more once I get him home."

Gibbs grunted in acknowledgment. He glanced over at Y/N, crouched low as she took photos. The sight of her ripped jeans stretched tight over her curves made his mouth go dry. Shaking himself, he turned back to Ducky. "Time of death?"

"Based on liver temp, I'd say between midnight and 2am."

Gibbs nodded, then went to check on his agents' progress. McGee had finished collecting evidence, Tony was wrapping up his interviews, and Y/N was scribbling notes about the scene.

Back at the navy yard, the team dug into the victim's background. Petty Officer James Rourke, 25, was a communications technician stationed out of Norfolk. No wife or kids, parents both deceased.

"Looks like Rourke had a bit of a gambling problem," McGee announced. "Some large cash withdrawals over the past few months that far exceed his salary."

"Owed money to the wrong people, maybe?" Tony speculated.

Gibbs turned to Y/N. "Bring up his financials, see if you can trace where the money was going."

Y/N's eyes flashed with anger. "You don't need to tell me how to do my job."

"When you're acting like a probationary agent, then yeah, I do," Gibbs shot back.

Y/N shot to her feet. "Just because I won't kiss your ass like Tony doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing."

"Hey!" Tony protested.

"You make one more outburst like that, you'll be riding a desk till you retire," Gibbs threatened. "You got that?"

Y/N stepped close until they were nearly nose to nose. Gibbs could feel her breath on his face, see the fire in her eyes.

"I could ride you instead" she taunted. "Clearly that's what you'd prefer."

Tony's jaw dropped. McGee's eyes bugged out. The bullpen went deadly silent.

Gibbs clenched his jaw, hands fisting at his sides. "With me. Now." He stormed off towards the elevator.

Y/N followed, chin held high. The doors slid shut behind them. Gibbs flipped the emergency stop switch, halting the car between floors.

He turned to Y/N, eyes blazing. "You ever speak to me like that again—"

"You'll what?" Y/N cut him off. "Spank me?" She stepped closer, breasts brushing his chest. "We both know you've wanted to bend me over your desk since I got here."

Gibbs swallowed hard. "It's against protocol." But even as he said it, his hands grasped her hips, pulling her against him.

"Screw protocol," Y/N hissed before crushing her lips to his.

Gibbs groaned into the kiss, backing her against the elevator wall. Their mouths clashed hungrily as his hands slid under her shirt, finding smooth, warm skin. Y/N nipped his bottom lip as she frantically unbuckled his belt.

Breaking the kiss, Gibbs rasped into her ear, "We shouldn't..." But his protest died as she wrapped her fingers around him. He shuddered, head falling back.

"I need this, Jethro," Y/N pleaded breathlessly. "Make me forget everything else."

Surrendering, Gibbs hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. Their clothes disappeared in a frenzy of tearing fabric and grasping hands. Then he was inside her, swallowing her cries with his mouth as he took her hard against the elevator wall.

After, collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap on the floor, Gibbs pressed a kiss to her hair. "I've wanted this...wanted you...for a long time," he admitted gruffly.

Y/N nuzzled his cheek. "Me too. Rules be damned."

Gibbs smiled and pulled her close. Protocol could wait. Right now, he had everything he needed.

cuntiest thing the boys ever did was own the name one direction like they are the sole owners of the brand name one direction and simon doesn't own shit so that at least now i know that he will never be able to profit off of liam's death

REMEMBER THAT POST WITH CINDERELLA WHERE HER DRESS CHANGES TO THE COLOR OF YOUR BLOG?

THIS ONE DOES IT TOO!!

I found a bunch more!!

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