Sex is not a goddamn performance.
Sex should feel as natural as drinking water.
It should not require confidence.
Sex should happen, because the moment is ripe.
Ripening lips, ripening labia, ripening cock, ripening pupils, ripening state of being. Ripe and augmented and brimming. Your energy goes to your pumping heart, then to every external nerve, then to theirs, on fire.
You bask, roll, play in it. You sigh, moan, laugh.
It’s not about being “good in bed.”
It’s about being happy.
One should never worry if they’re doing it “correctly.” Sex is not factual. I don’t want your cookie-cutter sex, I don’t want your meticulously crafted, calculated, fool-proof fuck. I don’t want a show. I want you. Let your instincts, urges and whims define that. It’s enough.
What do most girls like? Forget about it. Statistics are meaningless when there’s only one. Hello, here’s me. Here’s you.
Don’t worry about taking it too slow. We got time. We got infinite rhythms, combinations, possibilities. Explore each fuck. Take our time. We can do a different one later.
Don’t worry about making me come. I’m here. Right where I want to be.
I am overwhelmed by wanting; you don’t have to convince me. I want you because I like you. So don’t put on a front. Don’t taint this.
I’m frustrated—it’s just authenticity I want.
Don’t say that something I like is ugly. Don’t compare yourself to the rest. You will live and die with and within your experiences like everyone else. If someone thinks you are amazing, they are not wrong. Their universe is as real as any other; it is forged through perception.
I don’t care if you accidentally slammed my head into the wall, if you slipped out, if my arm cracked, if the delightful pressure of your wet lips on my anything made a silly sound. There is no right way and no wrong way.
“Good in bed,” what.
You’re good in my bed. I’m pleased you’re there. I feel it suits you.
Shove your technique. Let your memory swallow it. Fuck me like you’d fuck me, fuck me like you feel.
This isn’t a test.
"and then that was the end of the discussion" [x]
I hate liam payne and his dark voice and his high notes and his fucking perfect hair and his dark brown chocolate eyes and his puppy dog smile and his birthmark and his body and his style and his nice personality and his misspelling and his love for the fans and sigh I love him
found a demon (in my safest haven) - 152K words
“You really know how to ruin the mood, you know that?” Liam makes work of the short hairs towards the ticklish spots near Zayn’s neck. He’s spoken, and Zayn’s body did most of the replying, twisting unnaturally in its battle to get farther and closer to Liam’s touch all in the same instant.
“’Cause I said I want to screw you forever? It’s a lot better than fighting, even with the making up.”
Liam snorts, and Zayn tries to make himself comfortable with the flames of Liam’s fingers licking over his skin. From his neck, and down to his side—where the mark of their bond lies—and Zayn grits his teeth, holding on to all that’s good about this moment.
“We like, never have make up sex,” Liam reminds him.
Zayn pioneers his own path of embers to follow with his finger; obviously he makes sure his trail intersects with Liam’s squeamish abs and his stupidly long arms.Zayn wants to do something to soothe the tickling and maybe the burn of his fingertips this close to Liam’s heart, so he whispers. “If it helps, I want to do this with you forever, too. Lie on the goddamn carpet and get all into my feelings.”
Zayn’s face warms without his permission and he has to reel himself back inside his walls for a second of steady breathing. “If that makes me a girl, then fuck you.”
“I didn’t say that, I didn’t say anything.” It’s uncanny how Liam draws him back out with strong fingers jogging through Zayn’s hair, and soft kisses to the helm of Zayn’s forehead. “Tell me more.”
Zayn rearranges his organs inside his skin, scooping his heart out of his throat to return it to its rightful place in his chest. “Don’t be greedy, Liam.”
are girls still pretending they don’t masturbate?
I dunno, is society still teaching girls that anything related to their genitals is dirty and impure?
i’m trying to figure out this style for comics or something and i need practice! so reblog this and i’ll give you a little doodle based on your blog! or even you if you have a “me” tag or an easily accessible page of selfies!
they’ll look something like this but probably with color:
"Twenty five bucks gets you a dance."
I’m genuinely terrified that I won’t ever meet someone who likes me and wants to be with me and I’ll just be on my own forever. That shit scares me so much.
les misérables movie meme;
“gavroche! - gavroche, what are you doing?!”
This is the line that has gotten me through life.
i can talk about liams biceps for freakin days…….. what specifically are we talking about, like how strong he is and how built they are how HOT THEY ARE
WELCOME TO THE PAYNE GUN SHOW GOD DAMN IT
THEY ARE JUST SO NICE AND I COULD PUT A TRILLION PHOTOS OF THEM ON HERE BUT LIKE?? ITS SOOOO HOT??? i wanna touch them and see how firm they are
i bet he’s proud of them so much