Wanderlust...



twiabpaianlatfwnogf:

*sees a dog* *gasps loudly*

(via squidkitten)

itssexualhour:

So I went over to my boyfriend’s house tonight, and we decided to go night swimming. Well, we were kissing and grinding and all that in the pool and suddenly he just hugs me to him and says ‘I love you, and I’m glad you’re mine’ and when he said that I leaned in towards his ear and said ‘mine’ in the same voice as those seagulls from Finding Nemo and then he did it back and we basically sat in the pool shouting ‘MINE!’ at each other for a solid minute.

(Source: itssexualhour, via horny-yunikorn)

"

Sex is not a goddamn performance.

Sex should feel as natural as drinking water.

It should not require confidence.

Sex should happen, because the moment is ripe.

Ripening lips, ripening labia, ripening cock, ripening pupils, ripening state of being. Ripe and augmented and brimming. Your energy goes to your pumping heart, then to every external nerve, then to theirs, on fire.

You bask, roll, play in it. You sigh, moan, laugh.

It’s not about being “good in bed.”

It’s about being happy.

One should never worry if they’re doing it “correctly.” Sex is not factual. I don’t want your cookie-cutter sex, I don’t want your meticulously crafted, calculated, fool-proof fuck. I don’t want a show. I want you. Let your instincts, urges and whims define that. It’s enough.

What do most girls like? Forget about it. Statistics are meaningless when there’s only one. Hello, here’s me. Here’s you.

Don’t worry about taking it too slow. We got time. We got infinite rhythms, combinations, possibilities. Explore each fuck. Take our time. We can do a different one later.

Don’t worry about making me come. I’m here. Right where I want to be.

I am overwhelmed by wanting; you don’t have to convince me. I want you because I like you. So don’t put on a front. Don’t taint this.

I’m frustrated—it’s just authenticity I want.

It’s originality.

It’s passion.

It’s joy.

Don’t say that something I like is ugly. Don’t compare yourself to the rest. You will live and die with and within your experiences like everyone else. If someone thinks you are amazing, they are not wrong. Their universe is as real as any other; it is forged through perception.

I don’t care if you accidentally slammed my head into the wall, if you slipped out, if my arm cracked, if the delightful pressure of your wet lips on my anything made a silly sound. There is no right way and no wrong way.

“Good in bed,” what.

You’re good in my bed. I’m pleased you’re there. I feel it suits you.

Shove your technique. Let your memory swallow it. Fuck me like you’d fuck me, fuck me like you feel.

This isn’t a test.

"

via skwyrtle from reddit. (via nikolaiolivier)

Amen!!!!

(via mssbold)

(via shabbamike)

narcotic:

parents: i want the truth

me: *tells truth*

parents: nope youre lying wrong answer

(Source: narcotic, via succeeding)

coolscar:

*every highschool student when the teacher doesn’t show up after 2 minutes* “you know there’s a rule where if the teacher’s not here after 15 minutes we can just leave”

(via succeeding)

thr-ill:

have no regrets

except all those facebook pages you liked back in 2009, regret those

(via stupid-silly-girl)

deprincessed:

shopping rule no.1: if it’s not black put it back on the rack

(via poetic)

"This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important."

Gary Provost (via tuongexists)

Holy crap, what just happened there… (via cyrusgabriel)

Words, man. Words.

(via bookoisseur)

(Source: qmsd, via eradesent)

crowleysbestie:

I was reading tfios again and I came to  the part where Augustus first takes out a cigarette and Hazel starts yelling at him for smoking and I was thinking what if Augustus actually did smoke and he was just like oh fuck I really like this girl how do I bullshit my way out of this umm A METAPHOR!! Yeah that sounds pretentious enough!! Nice one Waters

(via burdenedwithgloriousfeels)

irrreversibility:

boys cry
girls masturbate
boys can like pink and not be gay
girls can have short hair and not be a lesbian
boys can like ballet
girls can like video games
boys can be hot without a six pack
girls can be hot without a hairless body
boys can have hair down to their waists
girls can have stretch marks, curves and back fat

gender doesn’t determine what you can and cannot enjoy, what you can and cannot look like or what you can and cannot do

(via bellatrixlagleek)

"I’m the jealous type . You wanna know why? Because we started off as “just friends” too"
Frank Ocean  (via
foresket)

(Source: theparkerthompson, via w-an-d3r-lu-st)

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