oxyhaemoglobin:

Nothing beats this kind of intimacy, when it’s about 3am and it feels like you’re the only two people in the world. There are no words or intentions, you’re just happy lying next to each other knowing that you never want to do this with anyone else. Just to consider that you’re each, essentially, a bag of bones and organs and muscles, and yet you’re both so much more than that because you’ve found each other and suddenly everything makes so much sense.

"One day, he’s going to know. He’ll know your birthday, your middle name, where you were born, your star sign, and your parents names. He’ll know how old you were when you learnt to ride a bike, how your grandparents passed away, how many pets you had, and how much you hated going to school. He’ll know your eye colour, your scars, your freckles, your laugh lines and your birth marks. He’ll know your favourite book, movie, candy, food, pair of shoes, colour, and song. He’s going to know why you’re awake at 5am most nights, where you were when you realised you’d lost a good friend, why you picked up the razor and how you managed to put it down before things went too far. He’s going to know your phobias, your dreams, your fears, your wishes, and your worries. He’s going to know about your first heartbreak, your dream wedding, and your problems with your parents. He’ll know your strengths, weaknesses, laziness, energy, and your mixed emotions. He’s going to know about your love for mayonnaise, your dream of being famous when you were five, your need to quote any film you know all the way through, and your fear of growing older. He’ll know your bad habits, your mannerisms, your stroppy pout,r McDonald’s order, how many sugars to put in your tea, how man your facial expressions, and your laugh like it’s his favourite song. The way you chew, drink, walk, sleep, fidget and kiss. He’s going to know that you’ve already picked out wedding flowers, baby names, tiles for the bathroom, bridesmaid dresses, and the colour of your bedroom walls. He’s going to know, get annoyed at and then accept that you leave clothes everywhere, take twenty minutes to order a Starbucks, have to organise your DVD’s alphabetically, and check your horoscope… just incase. He’ll know youy scoops of ice cream you want, and that you need your sandwiches cut into triangles. He’s going to know how you feel without you telling him, that you need a wee from a look on your face, and that you’re crying without shedding tears. He’s going to know all of it. Everything. You, from top to bottom and inside out. From learning, from sharing, from listening, from watching. He’s going to know every single thing there is to know, and he is still going to love you."

(via your-daisyfreshgirl)

(via kisss-me-in-the-raiin)

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 kisss-me-in-the-raiin)

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unheartedbeauty:

helainetieu:

grebnesieh:

Grab her booty in front of dudes who want her.

If a boyfriend or guy ever did this to me, I would slap him across the face in front of everyone to embarrass and disrespect him the same way he just embarrassed and disrespected me. Never fucking objectify me to prove a meaningless point.

all I want is for you to grab da booty….

"Drunk text me. Text me when the music is loud and there are girls dancing around you and you’re not quite coherent and you’re not quite yourself. Drunk text me that you love me or that you miss me or that I’m on your mind. Let the alcohol tell me all the things you won’t say sober."

(via laurenrosenicole)

(via weall-change)

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melthedestroyer:

coffeebuddha:

fujisalci:

i write sins not shopping receipts

Oh,  Well imagine,  As I’m pacing the aisles in a small corner store, And I can’t help but to hear,  No, I can’t help but to hear an exchanging of words: “What a beautiful melon! What a beautiful melon!” says a patron to a stocker. “And yes, but what a shame, what a shame we’re not getting in any more.”

I CHIME WITH HAVEN’T YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF
STOCKING THE GODDAMN STORE, NO