WHY INTERNET WHY?
WHY YOU SO SLOW AT LIFE RIGHT NOW?
I JUST WANT YOU TO WORK FOR ME AND LET ME STALK THE OSCARS FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF SEEING RDJ WHILE I GIVE WRITING THIS ESSAY FOR WESTERN ART A GO.
CREYS ALL OVER THE PLACE
When asked for a name at Starbucks, I usually tell them “Tony Stark”.
I await the day they call for “Iron Man” to get his order when it’s ready.
The person in the room next to mine is playing violin and it sounds so nice.
I keep closing my eyes, picturing Holmes playing the violin and Watson sitting outside the room, sitting against a wall, peeking around the doorway from time to time; perfectly content, the both of them.
I am such a sap, oh god.
I have reason to believe that this erotic novel is Tony fucking a personified Arc Reactor while in his Iron Man armor.
“His dick is like iron covered in wet rough silk.”
And the
“Electrifying sensations”
“Pure energy pure power”
“Sizzling white hot sensations that fired through her neurons”
“Arcs of flaming pleasure”
“Flames curled around her body”
This novel, this novel.
