Untitled

Reblog if you think FC Bayern München will win the UEFA Champions League.

x

Some things never change.

thecorporatewhore:

rolledtrousers:

Sun
“Please.” Her voice was soft, a hair’s breadth above a whisper.
He tilted his head to one side. The same side he always tilted it when he was teasing her. “Hmm?”
She frowned. Pouted a little, just enough that it was instinctual, the rest hidden behind a thin veneer of self control. It had never been her strong suit, but she didn’t want him to know that he was getting to her. That would just encourage him, and she was after the complete opposite. She took a breath.
“A little harder. Please.”
His fingers paused, fingers dappling on the skin of her leg with all the weight of sunlight, and just as much gentle warmth. He glanced from her leg to her face, and then back down again. A small smile grew from the corners of his eyes down to the edges of his mouth. Eugh. He was a monster.
The fingers started to move again, fingertips tapping out a staccato rhythm that was just not enough staccato, not enough the beat of the drum and too much the fingering of a woodwind instrument. A saxophone, maybe. No, clarinet. This was delicate jazz. She wanted orchestra, bombast, Wagner. She wanted him to play Ride of the Valkyries on her rear, and instead here he was mucking about on her calf like Jethro Tull on a quiet number.
She licked her lips. No, wetted, her tongue sliding out just enough to make them glisten, her eyes still ever so fixed on his face. A breath was taken. And then another, and she squirmed until he had to pause, or lose his positioning.
“This isn’t fair, you know.” She placed it on the silence, for him to look at, listen to, if he liked.
“And what is that?” He sounded inflated with self satisfaction, the discoverer of the ultimate entertainment.
“Treating me nicely when you know I don’t want to be treated as such. It’s cruel and unusual.”
“You don’t think it’s the opposite?” He paused for a moment, let the question breathe. “That treating you as such is in fact, treating you badly? And isn’t that what you were after.”
Her eyes flared, she wanted to hit him. Not in the face, just the shoulder, or the arm. Cause him a little bit of bodily harm, just enough to let him know her frustration.
“No, that’s not how it works. It’s the action, not the intent.” Huh. That wasn’t right either. It was both, one working with the other, and having this weird half life, where one was present and the other notable by its absence, was making her feel unbalanced, all full and empty at the same time. “Gah! You know what I mean. Just stoooop!”
He did. His hand collapsed onto her leg, heavy palm against smooth skin, and for a moment it almost felt like he was going to concede, give her what she wanted and let her feel whole again. But instead he just sat like that, one hand clasped around her leg and the other resting in his lap. His eyes on hers, the muddy green blending with the black of his pupils, making it seem as though they swirled, a swamp that she was having to wade through. Only she had no idea how to get out.
They sat like that for a long time. Not long enough for the light to change outside, or even for them to be interrupted by a phone call, or the rumble of their stomachs. The moment held, for as long as it was able, for as long as two people can hold a moment without a thought, or some extrinsic interruption, can take it away from them.
And then it passed, just like that. He squeezed her leg, reaching down and sliding the other hand over her cheek, the back of his knuckles feeling comfortingly strong, hard. Then he was there, against her face, stubble and smiles and lips, all hard and happy. Halfway through the kiss she felt him grasp at her chest through her top, find the excited stiffness of her nipple, and give it a sharp pinch.
She squealed, but she couldn’t help but grin.

You love that grin. It seems to fuel you.It’s remarkable how you can make a pout morph to a grin, then a moan… continuing your ruthless assault until only a gasp is left.

rolledtrousers:

Sun

“Please.” Her voice was soft, a hair’s breadth above a whisper.

He tilted his head to one side. The same side he always tilted it when he was teasing her. “Hmm?”

She frowned. Pouted a little, just enough that it was instinctual, the rest hidden behind a thin veneer of self control. It had never been her strong suit, but she didn’t want him to know that he was getting to her. That would just encourage him, and she was after the complete opposite. She took a breath.

“A little harder. Please.”

His fingers paused, fingers dappling on the skin of her leg with all the weight of sunlight, and just as much gentle warmth. He glanced from her leg to her face, and then back down again. A small smile grew from the corners of his eyes down to the edges of his mouth. Eugh. He was a monster.

The fingers started to move again, fingertips tapping out a staccato rhythm that was just not enough staccato, not enough the beat of the drum and too much the fingering of a woodwind instrument. A saxophone, maybe. No, clarinet. This was delicate jazz. She wanted orchestra, bombast, Wagner. She wanted him to play Ride of the Valkyries on her rear, and instead here he was mucking about on her calf like Jethro Tull on a quiet number.

She licked her lips. No, wetted, her tongue sliding out just enough to make them glisten, her eyes still ever so fixed on his face. A breath was taken. And then another, and she squirmed until he had to pause, or lose his positioning.

“This isn’t fair, you know.” She placed it on the silence, for him to look at, listen to, if he liked.

“And what is that?” He sounded inflated with self satisfaction, the discoverer of the ultimate entertainment.

“Treating me nicely when you know I don’t want to be treated as such. It’s cruel and unusual.”

“You don’t think it’s the opposite?” He paused for a moment, let the question breathe. “That treating you as such is in fact, treating you badly? And isn’t that what you were after.”

Her eyes flared, she wanted to hit him. Not in the face, just the shoulder, or the arm. Cause him a little bit of bodily harm, just enough to let him know her frustration.

“No, that’s not how it works. It’s the action, not the intent.” Huh. That wasn’t right either. It was both, one working with the other, and having this weird half life, where one was present and the other notable by its absence, was making her feel unbalanced, all full and empty at the same time. “Gah! You know what I mean. Just stoooop!”

He did. His hand collapsed onto her leg, heavy palm against smooth skin, and for a moment it almost felt like he was going to concede, give her what she wanted and let her feel whole again. But instead he just sat like that, one hand clasped around her leg and the other resting in his lap. His eyes on hers, the muddy green blending with the black of his pupils, making it seem as though they swirled, a swamp that she was having to wade through. Only she had no idea how to get out.

They sat like that for a long time. Not long enough for the light to change outside, or even for them to be interrupted by a phone call, or the rumble of their stomachs. The moment held, for as long as it was able, for as long as two people can hold a moment without a thought, or some extrinsic interruption, can take it away from them.

And then it passed, just like that. He squeezed her leg, reaching down and sliding the other hand over her cheek, the back of his knuckles feeling comfortingly strong, hard. Then he was there, against her face, stubble and smiles and lips, all hard and happy. Halfway through the kiss she felt him grasp at her chest through her top, find the excited stiffness of her nipple, and give it a sharp pinch.

She squealed, but she couldn’t help but grin.

You love that grin. It seems to fuel you.
It’s remarkable how you can make a pout morph to a grin, then a moan… continuing your ruthless assault until only a gasp is left.

spiritualinspiration:

Today let me reassure you that God knows right where you are, and He knows how to get you to where you need to be. Even when things don’t go the way you planned, His hand is on you. Do not be afraid. Trust that God is working behind the scenes on your behalf, and that He will lead you into the life of blessing that He has prepared for you.

manofsteel:

The wait is over. Get your tickets for Man of Steel now: http://bit.ly/MOStickets

ithinkdeeply:

sandrawbossin:

stadography:

jennicaaaaa:

waylie:

MUST WATCH, TRUST ME.

REBLOG FOR EVERYONE TO SEE!

High school student gives teacher a lesson.

Jeff is the students name in case any were wondering.

He deserves a round of applause.

Teacher’s Info:

Julie Phung
World History/Asian American Studies
Grades 10-12: Rm B118
972-708-6510
jphung@duncanvilleisd.org

JEFF IS THAT DUDE, OMG BE MY FRIEND.

Amen !! More people need to be like Jeff. I emailed that teacher too telling her about herself ! A stand needs to be taken. She looks like she doesn’t even care.

most perfect thing i’ve seen amen

This was too great

gq:

gqfashion:

Style Evolution: Leonardo DiCaprio

Before he hits the big screen in Gatsby as one of literature’s best dressed gents, we look back at the leading man’s stylish progression from kid actor to A-lister.

From Jack Dawson to Jay Gatsby.

knowledgeequalsblackpower:

daniellemertina:

satanic2chainz:

basedjaysuave:

The video that no one wants to mention

Such a humble, sensitive dude who literally saved lives and all the media (white corporations) & stupid people can think to do is make a joke out of him. Black men can only be clowns or killers regardless of what we do for other people or for ourselves no matter how selflessly it’s done.

Minstrel. Mandingo. Mule. Mammy. Jezebel.

That’s what we are

Incredible! And the police didn’t even believe him!

I am the definition of a man. I liked that.

teavu:

africanfashion:

For those of you who criticize Janelle’s signature monochromatic look.

From her speech on “Black Girls Rock”:

“When I started my music career, I was a maid. I used to clean houses. My mother was a proud janitor. My stepfather, who raised me like his very own, worked at the post office and my father was a trashman. They all wore uniforms and that’s why I stand here today, in my black and white, and I wear my uniform to honor them.

This is a reminder that I have work to do. I have people to uplift. I have people to inspire. And today, I wear my uniform proudly as a Cover Girl. I want to be clear, young girls, I didn’t have to change who I was to become a Cover Girl. I didn’t have to become perfect because I’ve learned throughout my journey that perfection is the enemy of greatness.

Embrace what makes you unique, even if it makes others uncomfortable.” - Janelle Monáe

she is the coolest fucking chick