Sunday with 67 notes / reblog / like
Sunday with 13,944 notes / reblog / like

churchvan:

if your boyfriend doesn’t worship your butt then he’s a lame and i’m very sorry you have to deal with that

(via cutebabe)

Sunday with 66,622 notes / reblog / like
"Yeah, nah."
The Australian answer to everything (via hoiist)

(via mustardandplum)

Sunday with 9,198 notes / reblog / like
nevver:

Word on the Street
Sunday with 40,628 notes / reblog / like
boys-r-trash:

brizulz182:

My future husbands wedding vows

but no tho cus why not just have the tv on in the backround u kno
"

Too many men look at me like I owe them something, like the word ‘beautiful’ should mean something to me just because that’s how they choose to describe me. Too many men think that the black heels I wear to the grocery store is my way of saying, “Look at my legs. Do you like the way my dress hugs my curves?” When the truth is I just got off work and need some fucking beer and bread. Don’t look at me like that, the only reason my lips are painted red is because I ran out of Chapstick and this was the only thing I could find in my car.

I once dated a man who said that for Valentine’s Day all he wanted was me in red lace. He said that I would taste like chocolate, that he wanted to show me just how good love can feel. He talked like his sex skills were the best gift he could give me. I wore black lace and showed him how it feels to be fucked harder than the night he lost his virginity to a stripper. He said I tasted like mystery and black coffee as he got down on his knees to find his boxers. He said he couldn’t find the taste of chocolate on my neck. That was the morning he realized that being a man had nothing to do with ‘how hard you can fuck’. If that was the case, I would be ten foot tall and bullet proof and one hell of a guy with nice boobs.

One time I fell into the arms of a drunk man in the backseat of his car, he claimed that he loved me afterwards. He called me a bitch when I said I just wanted to be his friend. I told him if me giving him my friendship made me a bitch then me giving him my heart would make me a cunt from hell. That was the day I stopped kissing boys who had to prove that they were men and started holding hands with men who didn’t realize they turned heads when they walked by.

Love rests in the heart and is spilled from your throat.
Lust rests in your pants and prefers to not ask for a name.
One day those men will realize that sincere, kind words
are the way to a woman’s heart, not a good fucking.
One day those men will realize that their Adam’s apple
is the forbidden fruit,
not their dick.

"
when he asks what drawer you keep your lingerie in//d.a.h (via whisperingbones)

(via porn4smartgirls)

Sunday with 124,975 notes / reblog / like
Sunday with 115,346 notes / reblog / like
Sunday with 404 notes / reblog / like
fidlarcali:

sick write up in Thrasher Magazine
"I paint flowers so they will not die."
Frida Kahlo  (via neon-vagina)

(Source: liamsdunbar, via casaboobcas)