Different types of dick

astro-hotline:

Drake dick:it’s for everybody and it loves everybody. Don’t be surprised if this dick comes with tears, emotional baggage, and poetry. 


Chris Brown dick: Assumes he’s the best you’ve ever had. Probably attached to the body of a dancer with a large ego. Cease and desist before you have him stalking your ass

Future dick: is the low point before the high point. Don’t worry, sex with this dick will wake you up and make you realize you deserve better tbh

Wale dick: used to cuddle with you afterwards and watch seinfield. Disappeared and you wish it would come back.

Kendrick Lamar dick:Big fan of pillow talk about changing the world. Ain’t the cutest but his personality makes up for it. Keep that ego in check tho, you can’t let him know how good it is because everyone stays hyping him up.

Jcole dick:will probably tell all his boys about it afterwards. Tries to be rough but wants nothing more than to be soft & sensual with you

Bryson Tiller dick:Raspy voice. Likes to tell you how amazing you are afterwards. 50/50 on whether you should believe everything he says

Tory Lanez dick:Caribbean flavored Bryson tiller dick

Amine dick:new guy you started fucking with who immediately wanted you to call him daddy.

The Weeknd dick: type of dick to get you into a threesome snorting cocaine off of some girls ass while he hits it from the back. Kinky. Not for the light hearted.

Chance the Rapper dick:goofy dick. The type of dick to make you laugh while you guys are having sex. All around a good time.

Kanye West dick: you miss the way he used to put it down. Now it’s just you stroking his ego.

im-only-human-221:

darkparadise2123:

theunamazingauthor:

darkparadise2123:

thegirlyoudontwanttomeet:

iseeavoice:

michichick:

“I’m a writer” I whisper as I look up war statistics

“I’m a writer” I whisper as I look up when the blender was invented

“I’m a writer” I whisper as I figure out how many times you can get shot without dying

“I’M A WRITER” I shout when someone uses my laptop and I left the page open to stab-wound references.

“I’M A WRITER!” I yell as I stare at a wall for hours instead of actually writing.

“I AM A WRITER!” I cry as I buy a notebook to pile on the thousand’s I have.

“I’m a writer?” I say, when my family asks what I’m doing with my life.

“I’m a writer.” I say, when I rewrite the first sentence of my stories over and over again.

“I’m a writer!” I say, when I’m hit with those blazing moments of inspiration.

It got better so I’m reblogging again. Also,

“I’m a writer.” I groan as I face plant the floor because I attempted to scale a couch to get to my notebook.

“I’m a writer.” I murmur as I watch videos on escaping straight jackets.

“I’m a writer, not a serial killer. I promise.” I say as I’m being interrogated for my suspicious browser history.

“I’m a writer.” I scoff when my parents call me anti-social.

“I’m a writer. I got this.” I say as I down more coffee for the sake of one more chapter.

“I am a writer.” I grunt as I try not to write in class because the teachers always glare.

“You’re a writer Harry.”