#and i love mona

[queershakespeare]

they really do put their whole pussy in it !!!

[axoqiii]

shujin trio,,my babies..,.,

[starfish-spencer]

Happy Mothers' Day to Lassie's lesbian moms and Lassie's lesbian moms only

[lotus-pear]

listen persona fivers u guys can all personally hate morgana but to fabricate that joker also dislikes him is absolutely insane. that cat went missing for THREE DAYS and akira was literally going through all five stages of grief. literally picked up his schoolbag and started crying bc he was like “oh it’s so light without mona in it………where is he where are you where is my cat”

that bratty little cat is literally his BABY yes of fucking course he loves him he can’t properly function without that little brat cat

[desire-mona]

the time jumps in i saw the tv glow make me so fucking insane and i can never let it go. 2 years, 8 years, then 20, each jump taking more and more out of owen as we watch him decay into a painstakingly unvariable excuse of a protagonist. no matter how big of a jump in time, we never really feel like we've missed out on anything at all. the only real change we experience is what monotonous, yet colourfully and visually overstimulating job he's trudging through, all to live the unfulfilling life he feels is the most safe. no known ambitions, no known lasting relationships, even the family he says he loves more than anything feels less like a feat, and more like a giant step back in the journey we know he needs to go on.

3 decades pass in the span of an hour and 40 minutes, a speed that would seem overwhelmingly fast, yet we stay tuned into the comfortability of that perpetual survival. we know what's going on, and we dont need to play catch up if there's nothing to catch up on. yet despite that comfortability of knowing where and when owen's stuck, it is killing us to know that the potential of what he could be and experience goes unacknowledged through the painstaking amount of years. and it's made all that much worse when we're forced to remember that the slow death we're watching is all the more real, both literally and figuratively, to owen.

[twinprime]

Mona Patel looks absolutely radiant at the Met Gala wearing Iris van Herpen, complete with moving butterflies on the arms.

[beaulesbian]

Glass Onion spoilers ahead! - long post

These parallels in the movie are so *chef's kiss* ✨️

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what a combo these two make! ♥

[fettuccin-e]

Hey noodle! Congrats babe, you deserve it ☺️ what are your thots on “just a little more” and our messy boy Steven Grant? 😈

Hi Mona!!! omg thank you sm!!! and thank you for requesting!!! and for steven?? PRECIOUS HUSBAND STEVEN??? how could i refuse ESPECIALLY because i know this boy is filthyyy and fucking needy as all hell okay ilysm thank you again!!

Tags: Steven Grant x Reader, afab!fem!reader, fingerfucking (r!recieving), unprotected piv, riding, uhh squirting pls dont fucking look at me i am ashamed, overstimulation, light degradation, so much praise holy shit (w/c: 1.1K)

Prompt: "Just a little more."

It’s honestly not that Steven likes to edge himself, or has some kind of fucking superhuman stamina in bed with you.

No, you’ve sucked him off in five minutes flat before, Steven twitching beneath you while he whined, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck it’s so good, you’re so fucking perfect, shit-” while he spilled down your throat. Marc never let him live that one down.

But you swear that sometimes, when he’s got his face or fingers or cock buried deep, so deep inside your cunt, Steven forgets that he has to cum at all.

He gets lost in it, mumbling about how gorgeous you are, how wet you get for him, how good you taste. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cum, how you cry and wail with every orgasm he wrenches out of your heaving body, he just wants more and more and more. Ravenous.

“Steven, please, I ca-I can’t, oh please-” your pussy makes noises that are utterly obscene, squishing against his hand as he works his fingers into you, jamming relentlessly against your g-spot. You aren’t even sure what you’re begging for at this point; for him to make you cum again, for him to fuck you like you’ve been begging for, for him to show some mercy.

But even then, it’s like he can’t hear you, eyes focused on the way you spread and leak over his fingers, mesmerized by the way you clench around his fingers. He’s been like this since the first orgasm of the night, maybe the second, but God, he just keeps going. He keeps pressing soft kisses to your trembling thighs, using his free arm to brace over your twitching hips while he plays relentlessly with your aching cunt.

It’s too much, he’s been at this for too fucking long, God, you’re leaking everywhere, the bedsheets damp with it. He just won’t let up, your beautiful, treacherous lover, and your whole body locks again with the force of your orgasm, the squeeze of your pussy nearly forcing his fingers out.

His gaze snaps up to your face in an instant, and you can hear his voice through the rush of blood in your ears, murmuring, “That’s it, darling, my God you’re beautiful, so pretty, this pussy’s so tight for my fingers, imagine how it’ll feel around my cock, yeah? How much I’ll stretch this gorgeous cunt apart, right love?”

And it’s so sweet, so gentle, the way he speaks to you, a complete contrast to how he rips you apart with orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

“Fuck me,” you whine, high-pitched and needy, absolutely desperate. “You- you said it, that your cock would feel so fucking good, please Steven, need-need you.”

But all Steven does is chuckle darkly, stretching his fingers out inside you again, and you nearly scream. “Just a little more, darling, one more time for me, yeah?” You can only clench your eyes shut and throw your head back into the pillows.

And when you finally wear him down enough to ease his sticky fingers out of you, you immediately roll him onto his back. If he’s going to fuck you, you’re going to be in charge. You’re going to be the one to make him cum.

You ease his cock into you, hot and throbbing in your hand, and you almost want to cry as he stretches your pussy so good, so perfect, just like he said he would. He moans beneath you, the sound ripping its way out of his chest, as if he’s suddenly realized how worked up he’s gotten himself by playing with your pussy for God knows how long.

You work your hips into his, plunging his cock into you just the way you know he likes. He nudges into your sweet spot just perfectly this way too, and the sensitivity from Steven’s earlier ministrations has lighting arcing up your spine with every nudge, every grind of his cock into your sensitive pussy. 

A mewl escapes you, unabashed and louder than you meant it to,  when you slam down on his cock just right, the hair just above the base of his cock pressed against your achy clit. Steven’s hands fly to your hips immediately, holding you there with an iron grip.

That look is in his eyes again, pupils blown wide and brows furrowed as he rakes his gaze over your quaking body. He punches his hips up, making his hair grind against your clit in a way that makes your head spin, his fat cock somehow reaching deeper into your pussy.

“That’s it, love,” he says, “let me make you feel good. Let me take care of you, fuck, you look so pretty like this, writhing on my cock like a desperate little whore.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head with his words, your hips working of their own volition, on pure instinct as you work his cock into you again and again and again. It’s like you can’t get him deep enough, bouncing on his cock just like he told you to. Making yourself feel good.

When you cum, Steven groans, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips hard enough to leave bruises in their wake as you clamp down on his cock. A shaky moan rattles out of your throat at the feeling, your body aching with exhaustion, your pussy too sensitive as you clench and pulse in his hands. You feel like you could shake apart with the force of it, wrung dry under his unrelenting touch.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, and you open your eyes to see his gaze trained on your pussy, and oh shit, his stomach shines with your wetness, the sheets soaked with it. You’ve never done that before, never-

“Fuck, you made me squirt, oh my God, Steven-” your body burns with embarrassment, and you start to pull off his cock in search of a towel, or something, anything to clean up the mess you’ve made of him. But his hands hold you firm in his lap, using an unseen strength that he keeps under his button-downs and jumpers, his biceps flexing in a way that makes saliva pool in your mouth.

“Don’t you dare, darling,” his voice is a rasp, all dark and ripped apart and feral. Fuck, if it weren’t for the accent, you’d think it was Jake. “One more time, sweetheart, just one more for me.”

“Steven,” you start, but he thrusts his hips up into yours, and the movement of his still-hard cock in your sloppy, sticky cunt makes you choke on your spit.

“Just a little more, sweet girl, just-” he thrusts into you, hard and unyielding, “one more for me.”

[moerusai]

The Art of Snooping

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery dir. by Rian Johnson

[wherestoriescomefrom]

rian johnson took all that time, put in all that effort to make glass onion a fantastic period piece to the first four months of pandemic, a prescient narrative that anticipates the stupidity of rich billionaires, and then pulled the rug from under us because the world of benoit blanc just straight up doesn't have the mona lisa anymore

[turboemmy]

MONA !!!!!!!!!!!!

[theatomickatz]

you are the dark, i'm the vampire

[russell-crowe]

robin williams as john keating in dead poets society (1989)

[mcbride]

#work of art🖼️

MELISSA MCBRIDE as Carol Peletier TWD: DARYL DIXON - THE BOOK OF CAROL 2.03- L'invisible

[bigbluefishi]

one day our noses will meet, in the flesh

[desire-mona]

you GUYS. charlie dalton is not a whore, nor does he have sex at all. he is a teenager who desperately WANTS to have sex but doesnt, ever. and before anyone says anything, im not saying teenagers dont have sex, i AM saying that this particular teenager comes in contact with a woman once a week at most.

we all need to collectively acknowledge once again that EVERY member of the dead poets is a huge loser, even the ones that break rules a lot.