You’re standing against a wall, holding onto a girl whose knees you’ve shot without touching. Holding, but not in the way you’ve ever known it. Hold like you’re drowning, hold like you’re buried, hold until your arms are trembling from the strength of it. She’s elastic against you, she’s all wilting and drooping and long long lashes hiding eyes painted black from wanting. She won’t look at you because she doesn’t know how to without spilling desire.

You’re both talking a language that neither of you can understand. But it sounds like ‘please’ or it sounds like ‘touch me everywhere.’ But this is more than your fingers or your mouth. This is the five seconds that it takes to peel her self-conscious away from her body. This is the five minutes of holding her hips between your hands and pressing your fingers into the stretch marks there and saying ‘you’re so fucking beautiful.’ This is really meaning it. This is thanking God for your hands and their ability to feel. You think maybe the dip of her sternum is forgiveness. This is how the soft of her against you makes your breath ragged. This is your chest heaving and sweat on your upper lip. The way you’ve forgotten the first name of every girl you’ve ever touched. The way her hair feels between your knuckles when you yank it. The noise she makes.

This is the hour that it takes for her to believe that you want her, skin and all. And when she believes you, you’ll know. Her defences will fall off her like water. She’ll shrug the sweater off her shoulders and that strip of bare skin will drive you so crazy that you’ll think about it for weeks later and it’ll make you hard again. You’ll text her saying that you’re thinking about her and your colleagues will ask why the freckles on your cheeks have connected to turn you bright red and you’ll mumble something about the sun. It’s not the sun. It’s the way she fell apart when you bit her neck and moaned honey into her throat. You’ll both be so brimming the ocean will rise jealous to see you. You’ll meet a girl and she’ll trust you and it will feel like undressing with all your clothes still on. It’ll feel like the raw of a wound and the relief of healing. She’ll put her throat in your open hands and close her eyes. This is what trust looks like.

Dip your fingers into her swollen mouth. Lean closer, breathe the words, you’ll fill her like this: ‘you are so beautiful and I’m going to put my hands everywhere.’

Azra.T  (via wethinkwedream)

(via wethinkwedream)



Angelina Jolie photographed by Max Vadukul for Interview Magazine, 1997

you all know this is my favorite set ever

such a babe

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Don’t let what he wants eclipse what you need. He is very dreamy, but he is not the sun. You are.
Cristina Yang, Grey’s Anatomy S10E24 (via frknvibes)

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becoming older than 10 years old was the biggest mistake of my life

(via the-absolute-funniest-posts)


The Victoria water lily, named for Queen Victoria of the England, is native to the Amazon river basin and can hold up to 70 pounds of weight.


The Victoria water lily, named for Queen Victoria of the England, is native to the Amazon river basin and can hold up to 70 pounds of weight.

(via pronounced)


(via dutchster)


On the Road Illustrated, Paul Rogers

"Flying keys"

"Flying keys"


KANASII - Polyvore en We Heart It.


KANASII - Polyvore en We Heart It.

wear your redhead proud

Morgan. I'm more of a fly by the seat of my pants kind of gal. This is just a place for me to spill my guts, and reblog the crap out of anything that phases me.

humanity is a beautiful waste of matter in our universe.

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