Apple juice and peach

[eternal-dean]

James Dean in his apartment in New York (West 68th Street), 1955.

[theseboobsareolderthanyou]

[haihl-blog]

[bloodjewel]

I don’t feel close to anyone anymore

[lora-mathis]

I WANT YOU TO UNDRESS ME TO THE SOUND OF ALL YOUR DEFENSES COLLAPSING.

Saying The Same Amount In Sex As We Could In Ten Conversations | Lora Mathis  (via lora-mathis)

[disequilibria]

[docorwho]

[nitrogen]

maybe im not made for anyone

[sirxusblack]

- Missy, run.

[ridleydaisy]

I wish I could tell you this was anyone’s last cigarette,but it wasn’t. But we did eventually all quit smoking for real.

[matt-daddario-deactivated201803]

Matthew Daddario being an adorable little munchkin 

[ikonicgif]

Rami Malek for Vanity Fair Italy

[ridleyrps]

Daisy Ridley being an adorable peanut - 9/∞

[greelin]

i got introduced to this girl who’s an art major in college and while we were talking she told me that true artists suffer for their art and i asked her if she suffers for her art and she kind of sat there for a second and then she was just like “one time i couldn’t draw two eyes similar enough to each other so i curled up on the floor and cried for like fifteen minutes”

[citywolves]

[dailydccu]

Remember when you left Gotham? Before all this, before Batman? You were gone seven years. Seven years I waited, hoping that you wouldn’t come back. Every year, I took a holiday. I went to Florence, there’s this cafe, on the banks of the Arno. Every fine evening, I’d sit there and order a Fernet Branca. I had this fantasy, that I would look across the tables and I’d see you there, with a wife and maybe a couple of kids. You wouldn’t say anything to me, nor me to you. But we’d both know that you’d made it, that you were happy. I never wanted you to come back to Gotham. I always knew there was nothing here for you, except pain and tragedy. And I wanted something more for you than that. I still do.

[adventuringangel]

he is lust. he is sex in the back seat of a car. he is hickies on the beach. he is groping in a movie theater. he is ass grabbing in an empty aisle. he is dirty whispers on the phone. he is pressed thighs and lip biting. he is moaned names. he is trembling and goosebumps. he is breathlessness after a touch. he is frustration and dark eyes. he is insanity and clawing nails. he is the pleas of more. he is the begs of not stopping. he is the fantasies that have your hand between your thighs, wishing it was his mouth instead. he is sex. he is lust. he is a drug. one you’ll take with a scream of pleasure and a whimper for another.

the dangers of dating a boy who knows exactly what he’s doing.