anonymous asked:

Dear Harry, eat me out and tease me so much until I have tears running down my cheeks and my legs are trembling around your head. Put your fingers in me, knuckle deep and let me feel your cold rings. Make me cum so hard, that I forget how to breath and all I see is black. Flick your tongue on my clit when I cum, making me grab your hair. Look up to me with your beautiful green eyes ask me "Do yeh have one mo' fo' me, pet?" . Your dearest, L.



despite being on stage countless times before, they still get nervous 

I’ll never forget the way your laugh sounded no matter how long it’s been since I’ve heard it. I won’t forget how your breaths sounded as you slept, or the patterns your heartbeat would make as my head laid on your chest. I won’t forget the color of your eyes, the scars on your hands, the freckles on your nose, or your silhouette. How could I? I can’t forget that I’m in love with you but I have to love you from afar now. The kind of love where I can’t go home with you. The kind of love where you have to disappear for a while. The kind of love where I can’t call you, I have to rely on fate to bring us to the same place at the same time. I’ll love you from afar because I know that we are better apart then we are together, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.
—  pen-to-paper-bm 
Here we are again: covered in glass,
blood stained blacktop. This makes
sense. The constant collision of us.
In bones, mouths, skin. We are
always pulling in opposite directions
but wind up in the same bed. You can
call this chemistry, or even symmetry,
but we never quite know what it is
exactly we’re trying to mimic. All I
know is that I can’t keep pulling glass
out of my palm. Every time you try to
hold my hand, it gets lodged in deeper.
You’re so deep under my skin at this
point that I don’t think I’ll ever get you
all the way out. I don’t know that I’d ever
call this love, but I don’t know a better
word for this kind of orbit. Some days I
think I forget how to breathe until you say
my name. Here we are again: glass in my
hair, blood on your hands. I’ll still get back
up and brush off my knees. You’ll get back
in the car and find your sunset. We’ll meet
up and do it all over again tomorrow night.

I sleep for twelve hours straight and have trouble leaving my house on the same day that I’m looking up the price of a plane ticket to Chicago, the price of a train ticket to San Francisco.

I am realizing that we have trouble accepting how human it is to be a human. We do not forgive ourselves for how much we feel. We get angry at ourselves for being hurt, angry at ourselves for needing love or attention, as if it is a shame to have any sort of imperfection at all.

I feel like a bad human sometimes and I don’t know what that means. I think it just means on days, I’m really bad at existing.
I forget to feed myself and brush my teeth.
I have trouble getting to sleep and sometimes I even forget how to breathe, how to take a deep breath, how to relax in the face of panic. I think I need to begin reminding myself some days being a human means feeling so much inside you that you need to shut out the world around you otherwise it’s all too much. Because sometimes when I’m alive I can feel everybody’s pain and all their stories of aching and missing. Because some days you can feel everybody else’s heavy and your heavy and you can’t even bring yourself to sit up in bed.

Sometimes being a human means being too quick to forgive the wrong people and taking an eternity to forgive yourself. Sometimes being a human is feeling lost as hell because you have no idea what to do and you have no idea who you are. Maybe being a human means always being terrified of not knowing what’s going to happen next in your life but being there to wake up the next morning anyway. Maybe being a human means knowing you’re loving the wrong people, but loving them anyway to learn a lesson. Maybe it means standing in your own way sometimes. Maybe it means wanting things you can’t have, missing people who already walked out the door. Maybe it means always wanting to be in another place at another time. Sometimes it means feeling brave and exposed, but sometimes it means feeling small and invisible.

Maybe what makes a human a human is as simple as, “We are here. We are aching and alive, full of stories and light, and some days we forget how beautiful it is.”

The problem is
I don’t know how to look into your eyes and not fall deeper in love with you.
When you laugh I think I forget how to breath.
I’m trying to love you from a distance,
From afar in the quietest way I know how.
I have notebooks completely filled with you.
I don’t think I’ll ever run out of poems to write about you because you’re my favourite piece of artwork.
I’m trying to be less.
Trying to be quieter and not suffocate you with my love
and I just hope that one day I can look into those blue eyes and still be able to breath
I hope that one day I can love you for real and not just in the pages of my notebooks.
I hope that one day I can put my hand in yours and smile knowing that all the pain you caused me was worth it.
To me, you are the brightest star in the sky and I hope that one day you will see that I shine only for you.
—  L.S.

Honestly, I’m starting to worry that I won’t actually have the strength to go and see Dunkirk. What if I just start crying? What if I forget how to breathe???? Harry is going to look so fucking beautiful and he will be acting and… I just… I don’t think I can do it without dying. I am worried.

I want so badly to believe that I don’t have these feelings for you.
—  2.26.15
  • me: I've never found male celebrities attractive
  • me: their half-naked bodies do nothing for me
  • me: but when I see a pretty actress all I can do is stare and try not to forget how to breathe
  • me:
  • me: this must be what having role models is like
She’s funny. Really funny. I have a completely different laugh when she makes me laugh. She’s smart. But not the kind of smart that makes you feel intimidated, she’s the kind of smart that makes you want to learn things just to keep up a conversation with her. And she’s beautiful… Like so beautiful that you have to look up at the sky to make sure the world’s still turning - the kind of beautiful that makes you forget how to breathe. Yeah… I forgot how to breathe. But it was like she seemed to notice that I forgot how to breathe, so she kissed me. And it was like her lips sent a shock straight to my heart and I suddenly remembered how to breathe again. Do I love her? The simplest answer? Yes. But even that… Is an understatement.
—  Oko Ninjah