A girl who is in control during sex is my fucking weakness. Like fuck undress me, tease the shit out of me, pin me against the wall, hold my arms, sit on my lap, bite my neck, kiss me hard. Those kind of shit
I want to touch you. But not your skin. I want to see your eyes. I want you to look at me as if you’re trying hard to figure out something. I want to see you smile, the kind of smile that you never show to anyone. The kind of smile that reveals who you really are. I want you. The good and the bad. The confuse and sad. The jolly and silly. I want each and every single part of you —from your body to your soul— from your mind to your heart. I want to hold you and break everything that hurts you. Let me see you. Let me pass through that high wall of yours. Please let me, just let me see you. I just want to know that you’re truly happy.
ma.c.a // Let me feel you (via vomitingwords)
Concept: It’s pouring rain outside. We lay down in your bed, put on so many blankets, and you lay on my chest with my arms around you. I run my fingers through your hair softly as you fall asleep. I kiss your forehead and tell you how beautiful you are. We are happy, nothing is bothering us. All I see is you, all I want is you, for a long time.
I want Sunday afternoons with you, refusing to get out of bed. Legs entangled, laughing about everything and laughing about nothing. Laughing just because. Because we can so we will.
I want cooking breakfast with you. In the kitchen, so enamoured with one another that we burn our toast. I’m caught between your legs as you sit on the counter and I haven’t got the will to escape. But it’s okay, because we’re together. And we’re laughing again. Despite the amount of toast casualties.
I want your hugs that are so tight yet so freeing. The warmth you radiate that leaves me better in an instant, somehow. I know that my heart has a home that isn’t only my chest. And you leave me better.
Love. Love is when even after all these years your heart still beats faster when she looks at you. Love is the way you find her in every song. Love is the way that specific lyrics seem to be written just for you and her. Love is holding her as her new girlfriend hurts her. Love is telling her you have her back despite her still being in love with the reason you broke up. Love is you telling her over and over and over and over again…that she is not cruel…that she is not a bad person…that she is still worthy of being loved. Love is seeing the beauty in her chaos, yet knowing sometimes storms leave destruction in their wake…but you can rebuild…you must rebuild. Love…love is letting her go so you can both grow…but when she comes back, love is never letting her leave again…despite the times she tries to run away. Love is patience. Love is not petty or vengeful. Love is seeing the good in someone as much as the bad, and seeing the combination as a beautiful harmony. Love is realizing that she does not need to be controlled, rather helped and supported. Love is deciding not to pick the wildflower that she is, in order to keep her alive. Love is to not try and control the beauty you hold so dear. Love is recognizing both of your flaws. Love is not just the good times, but holding her throughout the bad. Love is understanding it will not always be sunshine and rainbows, and that sometimes storm clouds may stick around for longer than is easy. Love isn’t trying to get the storm clouds to go away, rather helping to hold an umbrella above her head. Love is not naïve or ignorant, but it is not allowing your heart to harden. Love is understanding that sometimes she gets overwhelmed and needs time to process. Love is knowing that when she says “its fine, everything is fine,” everything is most certainly not fine. Love is knowing she is trying. Love is knowing sometimes a wild thing needs to run free, to remember what home is. Love is knowing she bottles everything up because her parents never let her let it out. Love is knowing that when she stays too quite for too long in the midst of an argument…you better shut the fuck up. Love is knowing that despite hurting each other time and time again, you still love one another. Love is not something to be pushed. Love cannot be defined. Love is knowing there is a time to let go and let be, as is there a time to dig your heels in and fight for what you want. Love is compromise. Love isn’t solely about oneself. Love is promising her you’ll never be like her parents. Love is being a home for her, a safe haven. Love is being her touchstone. Love is as many letters as her name. Love is 5 letters. Love is worth it. Love is worth it.
Worth it (via lez-be-honest-together)
half naked cuddling and slow nasty tongue kissing needed now
@sexual-texts (via sexual-texts)
Source: sexual-texts
millic3nt-bystand3r-deactivated
Girls bodies are so pretty and soft like how did I ever think I was straight
