a bee is a reasonable insect. it flies into your house and spends the entire time it's inside trying to get out. a fly is an abomination. the second it gets inside your house it moves right in. straight to the living room. like its been an indoor animal its whole life. disgrace
as a woman it's so important that you learn how to be a Problem. I know what they taught you but fuck what you heard. you will people-please your way into an early grave
“Rough sex, but not in the trashy, cheap way you see in porn. I mean the animalistic, all consuming kind, like two people unraveling each other with poetic brutality, somewhere between violence and worship.”
every time i read sylvia plath’s journals i’m reminded of anthony bourdain — these two famous examples of suicide are so far from classic “melancholics.” they’re actually both passionately obsessed with life and were ultimately defeated by a world possessed by the death drive
can I kiss the ti- sorry, I meant, let me kiss it on the tip, FUCK sorry… can i kiss the tip? Okay, what I’m trying to say is… my lips on your tip. I MEAN… may I please kiss the tip? FUCK, just let me kiss the ti-
cockwarming a guy after riding him all day n just laying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while he pets me n whispers ab how good i did and tells me how much he loves me
parallel play is so goated, like we both doing our own shit in the same room, and then every so often i can come over and give you a little kiss or something, ask how your game is going or whatever, or you do the same to me
hell yeah