#I'm gonna go outside!! and touch grass!!

[sunnymainecoonx]

They are so old

[normcore-tertiary-character]

Today, instead of liveblogging 9-1-1 I went outside and touched grass. Please appreciate my photos of one of the prettiest natural places I've seen in southern Michigan

[landinrris]

UM max fewtrell just confirmed on stream that LN is currently abroad and doesn't have connection/hasn't had connection the last few days. Seems like it was his social media team posting the last little bit

Oh? Very um.... very interesting... if you'll excuse me...🚪🚶‍♀️

[r0semultiverse]

post essentially venting about a trans issue in a light-hearted format:

some chucklefuck: I don't like the contents of this post, you're a terf now because I don't like you

[till-you-scream-and-cry]

mood board for today:

[scorndotexe]

graduated from sitting in a room and feeling vaguely weird to sitting in a room and feeling very specifically weird

[theotherace]

terfs really think about the weirdest fucking shit.

[dulcetssims]

sorry but so many of these cc creators are fucking delusional like y’all really think people are going to just stop playing the sims now because they... don’t have to pay for cc anymore?? like sorry if you wanna stop playing the game because you don’t make money from it anymore but i do not think every single person who plays the game is going to feel the same way babes <3

[leaf-green-spring]

It's nice coming on here and being told to protest or I'm a bad person but I step outside and... then what

[thearchercore]

wdym they barely interacted before mid-2023 ?? I just joined in this season and the amount of moments they have had me thinking they were besties for years please I'm??

brb gonna touch grass

let's have a lookback at how things looked before mid-2023.

did they interact? sure. they did, but usually the interactions were like... one moment per grand prix. sometimes nothing happened at all. and we have to remember (from what they told us), they did not like each other when they were karting very much, then they were friendly, then austria 2019 happened and they had a falling out and then slowly started talking again. this post-unfollowgate timeline gave us some funny moments of max just trying anything to talk to charles (asking him if the singapore flag, in singapore, was the monagesque one, or when he stopped charles to ask about weather awkwardly in the middle of the paddock).

or just look at this clip from hungary 2021:

clearly, they weren't in the "one austria away from restraining order" mood anymore, but they were awkward and didn't really know how to approach each other with the history they had.

fast forward to 2023, they seemed to get closer but still, they weren't exactly the best of friends and that awkward tension they always had was still around. that seemed to change around the time the infamous padeldate picture dropped. i remember dming my friend "MAX AND CHARLES HUNG OUT OUTSIDE OF WORK" because it was such a big deal. they haven't really done it before. it was an event organised by charles' agency (ran by his brother) and max was the only other f1 driver invited.

that event caused an insane domino effect of them constantly interracting, mentioning each other, clearly being much friendlier and comfortable around each other than ever before. their weird awkward tension was suddenly gone. we know from this time charles was in contract talks with ferrari and also worked on a possible back up plan of going to red bull if things at ferrari went extremely downhill (the infamous "verstappen did not veto the idea of leclerc as an teammate" article) so it's clear around that time they got closer and they did discuss the possibility of being teammates in the future.

this probably got them unlock this huge pandora box of the issues they had in the past that they never openly discussed.

fast forward to 2024, max and charles interact more than ever - max mentioning charles unprompted on numerous occassions, "we get along really well now, but back then we didn't," them hanging out outside of work and playing padel as teammates, max finishing charles' sentences in press conferences.... even their debriefs weren't that intense back then but now they're YAPPING.

we're only 2 races in and probably have more interactions between them than in like.. 2020-2021 already.

a lot of new fans joined during the era when they were already friends but i think it's always good to remind ourselves the journey that makes their dynamic so compelling, they did not always get along that well. they were never THIS friendly with each other. they happened to grow very fond of one another over time and, to quote charles they have joint "memories that were bad but got really good with time."

were they always weirdly obsessed with one another? yes. but were they ever this pathetic and close? no.

what we're seeing now is a complete 180 and we have to remember, they are drivers first. they will always put themselves and their teams first because that's what this sport is about.

the fact that they were never teammates and have this strong dynamic together speaks volumes.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You gnaw on your cheek as you read over the letter. Final warning. You really didn't think much of the first five but that word catches your worry; litigation.   

Your mother grunts and clicks her pen, dropping it as she curses under her breath. She tosses the crossword book away from the chair. For all your life, you remember her working on her puzzles. Now, she can hardly hold pen steady enough to put in a single clue.  

"Mom, you want another coke before I head out?" You ask.  

"Where are you 'headed out' to?" She scowls.  

"Just outside. Try to figure out the mower."  

"Piece of shit," she sneers and for a moment, you're not sure if she means the machine or you.  

"So..."  

"Just go," she snips.  

You purse your lips around the cut of her tone. You leave her in her recliner and you go down the hallway to the back door. You shove your feet into your stained vans and let yourself gently outside.  

You come down the steps and cross the overgrown grass to the garage. You prop the door open with an old paint can and drag put the mower. You haul it over to the little patch of pavement by the house as the sunlight raises beads of sweat across your forehead.  

You shade your eyes and squint. You don't get the thing. It's not even motorized, it just started catching. You can't push it hard enough to make it go. It only bounces uselessly across the ground.  

You squat and put it on its side. You examine the blades, nervous to dig between the mulching teeth. You grab a stick and poke around. It breaks and you rip it out.  

"Dang it," you whisper.  

You stand up. It's too hot to think. As much as you miss the sunshine in the grim winters, the heat is less than welcome.   

"Hey, excuse me," a voice startles you. You ignore it, thinking maybe it's just the neighbours on the other side of the fence. "Um, miss?"  

You turn towards the voice and find a man peeking through the loose slat in the fence. You sigh. Yeah,   

that needs to be fixed too.  

You stare dumbly. You recognise the man. It takes a few seconds to remember where you saw him. He was with the realtor. You hadn't see much yet, not that you ventured outside often. The sign changed to sold and that was that.  

"Hi, uh, so this," he touches the plank, swiveling it on the hanging nail.

You nod and go to the edge of the patch of pavement but no further. You nibble your lip and search for something to say. Talking to mom is easy, you know what to expect, but strangers are different.   

"Gonna fix it," you assure him flatly.  

"Yeah, well, I was actually thinking, I'm just doing a few touch ups right now and I could spare a couple nails or two."  

You tilt your head and bring your hands together, mashing your palms anxiously, "it's rotted."  

He wiggles the wood and little slivers fall away. He hums disappointed, "sure is." He smiles as his blue eyes shine in the sunlight, "no problem then. I'm sure I can find something at the hardware store."  

You hesitate. You should mention you can afford even half a plank. Grandma left you the house and enough to cover property taxes, but mom's monthly cheques are already stretched thin. If he doesn't ask, you won't offer.  

"Steve," he stretches his arm through the opening.  

You look at his hand. Your stomach flip flops. You don't want to be rude as much as you don't want to touch this strange man. Well, no use in making another enemy around here.  

You lift your feet as you trudge through the high grass. As you near, the sweat slakes down your back. You gently shake his hand, just for a second, and pull back.  

"And your name? Neighbour?" 

You stare at the collar of his grey tee shirt and eke your name out. 

“Is it just you over here?” He asks. 

You shake your head. You bend your arm to pick at your sleeve. You don’t mind introductions but you’re not much for conversation. You don’t need him prying into things. If anyone really saw inside those walls, they’d only feel bad for you. You’d rather their apathy. 

“Oh, you got kids? A husband?” 

You wince. It’s almost a flattering assumption yet a reminder of everything you don’t have. You’re not old enough to really think about all that anyway. 

You glance back at the side of the house. You should hose that down and get rid of the mildew. Another tick on the endless list. 

“Mom,” you say. 

“Ah, makes sense. You in school?” 

You shake your head again. He’s quiet. You sway listlessly. 

“Anyway...” he says. 

You put your head down and back away. You go back to the mower, bending down to fiddle with it again. You could see if anyone would lend you one but that means asking and as much as the neighbourhood paints itself in friendly smiles, they aren’t genuine. The letter on the kitchen table is proof of that. 

“Not working?” The man, Steve asks. You cringe and stand up. He’s still there. 

You shrug as you look at him. You turn back to the mower and lift it by the handles. You try to ignore the nosy neighbour and line it up with the grass. You push and it doesn’t move easy. You grunt and it rolls over the grass. You think maybe it’s working but as you turn, you notice the grass stands back up, only slightly bent. 

“You know, I got a nice electric one. Isn’t here yet but I can bring it tomorrow on the truck,” he offers, “I wouldn’t mind doing a once over, if you need.” 

You huff and push the mower over. 

“Can’t pay you,” you stomp back towards the house. 

“I didn’t say anything about money,” he chimes. 

You stop by the steps and cross your arms. You look at him, “too much.” 

“Well, if you change your mind, you can just come knock on my door,” he says. 

You nod and spin around again. You climb the steps, fighting to keep your steps even. You want to run inside and hide but you don’t want him to see how desperate you are to get away. 

The screen door snaps shut behind you. You kick off your shoes and go down the hall. Your mother huffs from her recliner. 

“You figure it out?” She asks. 

“No,” you flop onto the couch. 

“Knew ya wouldn’t,” she snorts as she stares out the window. “Man’s back. Musta bought the place.” 

“Uh, yeah,” you lean back, pulling the collar of your shirt over your face to sop up the sweat. “It’s hot.” 

“Nah, you’re just whiny,” she snickers. 

You don’t respond. You know better than that. You let her have her truth. Whatever she thinks of you, you can’t disprove. The world is she says it is. 

🏠

Your bedroom window shines yellow with the noon sun. The heat beams down on the folding table, warming your hands as you scratch charcoal onto thick paper. You still have grass stains on your fingers from another fruitless attempt at fixing the mower. Another day and you expect another letter isn’t far behind. 

As you focus on the lines and curves left by the pencil, your anxiety subsides. Drawing is the only thing that helps you forget. Really forget. You don’t think about the house or the lawn or the HOA or your mom. It’s just you and the pencil. 

You lean your forehead in your hand as you cross hatch the shadows. The chirping birds and the soft breeze deepen your trance. The world around you is distant and dim. You’re only awoken but the sudden and unfamiliar ‘ding dong’. 

You sit up. It takes a moment before you realise what it was. The doorbell? No one ever rings it. No, even Marge from the HOA waits until you come out to get the mail to accost you. 

You put the pencil down and get up. You go out and peek down the hallway. You creep along and stop at the doorway to the front room. You mom sniffs and wipes her eyes. She must have fallen asleep in her chair. 

“Who is it?” She snarls with grogginess in her throat. 

“I don’t know,” you go to the door and pull the curtain away from the long window beside it. You peek out at the figure on the porch and quickly hide behind the fabric. Too late. “It’s... the neighbour. I think he saw me.” 

“Ergh, don’t be stupid, girlie,” your mother barks, “help me up.” 

“Oh, uh, okay.” 

You go to her and offer your hand. You get her to her feet. She slightly hunched and slow but she makes her way to the door. She pauses and turns to the mirror above the little bench against the wall. She tidies her hair and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

She leans on the door as she grips the handle. She opens it and the man from next door, Steve, greets her with a grin. 

“Hello?” She sweetens her tone. 

“Hello, miss, sorry to bother you,” he says, “I just moved in next door and I’m getting settled in. I was just about to do some lawn work and I thought maybe I might offer to do yours? It’s no trouble, I just thought I’d offer.” 

“Oh, what a honey you are,” she preens, “of course, that would be lovely of you. My daughter,” she sighs and shakes her head, “I’ve been nagging her for weeks to get it done.” 

“Really, it’s not a bother,” he assures her, “I’m Steve by the way.” 

His smile is just as charming as his introduction. 

“Holly,” your mother returns, “I’ll make you some lemonade for your trouble. It’s a hot one, isn’t it?” 

“Sounds good,” he agrees, “I’ll try not to make too much noise.” 

You peek out from behind your mother. Steve’s eyes meet yours for an instant before she blocks her out, no doubt eager to hide the state of the house from him. You back up as she turns to you.  

“What’re you doing hanging on like a rodent?” She hisses, “go make some lemonade.” 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not feeding my mom's dog by hand?

My (F23) mom (F55) has a dog named Lacey who is a 4 year old chihuahua/papillon mix. My mom has turned Lacey into a spoiled purse dog. Lacey refuses to walk on grass, or even leave the house if the temperature is below 68 degrees (20 celsius). In fact Lacey refuses to walk at all most days, and will scratch your leg and whine until you pick her up and carry her. If you're sitting down she'll do the same thing because she wants to be in your lap. If you ignore her she'll yip constantly and shiver until you give in and hold her. She also won't eat any brand of dog food, so my mom cooks for her twice a day. She gets 1/2 cup of ground turkey for breakfast, and 1/2 cup of unseasoned chicken and plain rice for dinner. She also rarely gets stuff like carrots or blueberries as treats.

A couple months ago my mom drove across the country to visit family, and left Lacey with me. She was only supposed to be gone a week, but ended up staying much longer due to a family emergency. She left Lacey with me and gave me very strict instructions on how to feed her (what time, it has to be cooked and unseasoned, you can't cook it all at once and then reheat it it has to be fresh or she won't like it, etc) but she also included something I didn't know about Lacey's routine: the dog won't eat out of a bowl or off a plate, you have to hand feed her. I told my mom that's ridiculous and I'm not doing that. She insisted, because Lacey just plain will not eat any other way. Eventually I told her fine.

I'm not gonna lie: I had no intention of hand feeding Lacey, and just told my mom I would to get her off my back. And Lacey did refuse to eat for the first couple of days, but eventually she would nibble on her food. I came to realize attention was a much more important currency to Lacey than food. If I was even in the same room as her she wouldn't eat, because there was still a chance I might hand feed and dote on her. If I set the food down, then left and closed the door though? Lacey DEVOURED her food in less than a minute. Every time. Even if it was reheated. It made me think maybe she wasn't as picky about her choice of food as my mom says, so I bought some wet dog food and guess what? She gobbled that too. Still wouldn't touch dry kibble though, but hey. Baby steps.

Same thing for letting her outside. If I went out with her she would refuse to even leave the porch, but if I put her out in the (fenced in!) yard and went back in (while still watching her on security cameras and never leaving her alone for longer than a few minutes)? She would go potty and then happily run and roll around in the grass, even if it were chilly out. Even if she wasn't wearing her little coat and booties my mom insisted she needed.

My mom got back and I was kinda smug when telling her these things, I'll admit. But I honestly expected her to be relieved her dog wasn't as high maintenance as she had previously thought. Instead she got mad at me and said I shouldn't have gone back on my word. And that she would never trust Lacey with me again since I admitted to neglecting her. That Lacey had clearly lost weight with me and that was proof I was starving her (it's true she lost weight, but she was a roly poly to begin with and still kinda is, just less so).

Should I have just caved to my mom's ridiculous demands regarding her dog, or maybe I'm wrong to call them ridiculous at all? AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[toxicanonymity]

Close (can read alone)

2.7k, raider!Joel x f!reader | raider master, joel

mood board by @milla-frenchy , stitches edit by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

“You’re okay, baby” he whispers, more to himself than to you.  Both arms are around you and one hand cradles your head.  “You’re safe,” he says as he brings you up and down his length.  His grip around you tightens and his movements become more aggressive.  The hand that cradles your head begins to fist your hair.

SUMMARY: Two men come to the trailer before Joel gets home, and for a second, Joel thinks you're shot. He fucks you hard from the adrenaline. You give Joel stitches and tell him how you feel. Then you do it missionary (for the first time?)

WARNINGS: I8+; unsafe P in V (x2); light manhandling; canon-typical violence; angst; dark fluff; reader can sit on joel and her hair can be pulled; pet names and praise; no use of y/n.

One morning, Joel is making coffee and you're sitting in the nook by the window, behind the little kitchen table. He brings his coffee to the table and tells you he's going on a dangerous trip.  It's all hands on deck, so he's gonna have to leave you by yourself.  He hands you a gun. The same one you used on the girl. 

He takes you outside. "Remember how to fire it?" He taught you how within days of when he first plucked you out of your life and set you in his.   You stand up and show him how you aim it. He gets behind you and helps adjust your form, but it doesn’t need much adjusting.

After you lower the gun, he rests a hand on your head and says, "If somebody threatens you, tries to take you, tries to touch you, you shoot'em." You nod.  

"Good girl."

You're scared about his plans.  If Joel considers it dangerous, you can't even imagine.  He's never said anything like this before, like something might happen to him, despite all the stuff you know he gets up to. He can tell you’re worried and asks what's wrong.

"What if you don't come back?"

"I'm gonna come back." 

-

He doesn't come back that day, even well after you hear the vans return. You’re worried and don’t know what you’d do without him.  If he’s hurt or in trouble, you want to help him.  You want to find him even if it means you get hurt.  You have this terrible thought, and you know it's irrational, but you can't push it away - you’d rather be with him and hurt than away from him unharmed.  

You know it's risky to go down to the house with all the men there.  You’re waiting for the vans to leave and thinking of walking down the hill alone when you hear unfamiliar footsteps outside the trailer.  You get the gun ready and make sure the safety is off.  When the footsteps are at the back of the trailer you peer out the front window and, thank God, in the flickering flood light, you see Joel crest the hill with a bloody face.  

He sees you in the window and raises his rifle. His eyes sweep the area. You signal with your hands that there are guys around back.  He holds out his hand as a stop sign then puts his finger over his lips. He raises his rifle and crouches down as he goes around the side of the trailer out of view.  

You hear a gunshot and splatter, then a scuffle.  Joel and another man are grunting.  Joel interrogates him about whether there are any more of them around, landing a blow after each time he asks him.  Then finally, another gunshot, but Joel doesn't come inside. You hear the sound of a body being dragged. It drowns out any footsteps. Your heart tells you Joel is alive, he's the one dragging the body, but you won't feel okay until you see him.  

After at least ten minutes of silence, you can’t stand it anymore.  He should’ve at least come to the window so you’d know he was okay. You creep out of the trailer, gun in hand, closing the door softly behind you.  You go around to the side where you heard the struggle. There's still a body on the ground. You start looking for a trail - drag marks in the dirt, flattened grass. Something you could follow to get to Joel. 

Then you hear a gasp and a groan behind you.  You jump and shriek at the top of your lungs.  You turn around and the "body" isn't dead, it's on its knees behind you, lunging for you.  "JOEL!!!" you scream.  Then you walk backwards, aim the gun, and fire a shot between the man's eyes. You run back to the trailer and crouch down hiding, suddenly afraid you might have attracted someone else's attention. The front of the trailer doesn’t provide any cover with that light on, so you hesitate to go in the front door just yet. 

—-----

“SWEET PEA!” When Joel comes into view, he's running, holding his rifle, ready to shoot.  There's a look on his face you've never seen on him before – fear. He looks panicked.  "Oh, god," he says to himself before he sees you, then booms, "WHERE ARE YOU BABY?" 

"Here," you croak and only then realize you're crying and shaking.  

He rushes over to you and crouches down at your level. "You're okay, you're okay." You can see his pulse pounding in his neck.  He puts his rifle behind his back and hugs you so tight it hurts, then grabs you, forcing you to your feet roughly. He drags you inside.  

—---------

He sits you down on a chair at the kitchen table. 

"What happened," he asks urgently as he takes off his gun. He pries the pistol from your hands.  

"He wasn't dead." You take in the extent of Joel's facial injury, and he's bleeding badly from the forehead. You reach out to touch it and he dodges you. 

"Why'd you go out there," he demands gruffly.

"Are you mad," you sob. 

He takes in your face, then his expression softens and he shakes his head. " No," he says, still catching his breath.  "Fuck, it don't matter sweet pea." He holds you by the back of the head and puts his forehead against yours for a few seconds.  Your tears are dropping onto the hem of your dress, diluting a spot of bloodsplatter.  

Joel pulls back, chest still heaving, and palms himself over his jeans. "C'mere," he says and urgently grabs you off your chair and pulls you into straddling him. He quickly wipes his own blood off your forehead with his thumb.  You wrap your arms around his neck and he unbuttons and unzips his jeans.  He takes his hard cock out, gathers saliva in his mouth, then looks down to his lap and spits on it.  Then he wraps an arm around you, holding you into his chest, and lifts you up to get clearance.  He pulls your panties to the side and you gasp as he impales you. 

“You’re okay, baby” he whispers, more to himself than to you.  He holds you with both arms around you with one hand cradling your head.  “You’re safe,” he says as he brings you up and down his length, stretched by his cock.  His grip around you tightens and his movements become more aggressive.  The hand that cradles your head begins to fist your hair.  He breathes vocally, then he groans as he forces you all the way down.  He keeps you down, with all of him inside you, filling you all the way up.  His hips rock up into you and he comes in record time, pulsing enormously against your walls, so many times you lose count. It's like he just needed to plant himself in you, feel that you're real, you’re truly still there, and claim you all over again. 

He puts his head against yours as he catches his breath.  Then he brushes your forehead with his thumb again and looks back and forth between your eyes. You don't let yourself try to kiss him.  He clears his throat and says, "Go clean yourself up. I've gotta dump that guy.  Won't take me too long."

"Ok."

"Lock the door." He helps you off his lap and when his cock slides out, a mess of cum comes with it. 

—----

There’s blood and grime on your face from contact with Joel’s.  You take a shower and lay down on the bed in your nightie.  Joel staggers in wordlessly, locks the door, puts his gun down on the table, and goes straight to the bathroom. “Shit,” he mutters to the mirror. The sink turns on.  While he's in the bathroom, you go to the kitchen table where he left the light on and you wait for him.   

He emerges with a washcloth, bottle of liquor, sewing needles and thread, scissors and tape.  The scissors are bloodstained.  He haphazardly sets it all on the table, then sits down in a chair next to you.  Now that the dirt is gone you can see he has quite a gash across his eyebrow and it's still bleeding.  He's sweatier than you've ever smelt him. 

"Can ya sew me up or got a weak stomach?" He pours some of the liquor onto the cloth and dabs his eyebrow. Then he takes a swig of it. 

You don't want to sound too eager but you want nothing more than to help him. “I'll do my best.”  You sterilize and thread the needle and he dabs the wound again, then lays his head on the table for you. He barely flinches as you stitch him up.  

“You’ve done this before,” he says. 

“Yeah.”  You cut the string then dab the stitched wound with alcohol. “We shouldn’t tape it yet.”

He sits up and looks at you. “Do I look scary now?” he smiles.

You shake your head.  It actually looks sexy.  

-

"I was afraid you weren't gonna come home," you say. "I'm glad you did."

He scans your face and his eyes seem to glisten. “Me too, baby. C’mere.”  He lets you into his lap facing him and he gives you a tight squeeze. 

"I was scared," you whimper. 

He strokes your back and says, "Shhhhh.”

You keep thinking, what if he didn't come home. You know he won’t say it back, but you still need him to hear it.  You can't resist whispering, “I love you." 

His body tenses.  He pulls back and studies your eyes for a few seconds. He takes a deep breath.  His voice is more gentle than his words.  “Damnit, sweet pea.”

He gently nudges you out of his lap and you sit back down in the chair next to him.  He takes your hand in his and looks down at it as he brushes his thumb lightly across your knuckles.  When he looks at you again, he’s squinting.  His mouth is moving like he's fighting with his tongue.  He opens his lips, but doesn’t speak.  You wait patiently for his rejection. His face hardens, then he looks you over. 

His eyes and voice are soft, but his tone is cautionary and his words are careful.  "You belong to me, baby.  It’s not how you think."

That wasn't too bad.  Somehow it wasn’t as bad as the time you kissed him.  You could leave it at that, maybe offer a "yes sir" to show you understand the power dynamic, and move on with no harm done, but that's not what you do.  You can’t resist protesting, "can't I belong to you and also love you?" 

He's silent for a few more seconds as he reads your face then swallows. "Ain't gonna tell' ya what to feel," he grumbles and looks away again. 

Against your better judgment, you continue, "but you don't love me, right? I get it."

He breathes in deeply through his nose and you worry for a second that you’ve pushed him too far again until his gaze meets your sad eyes. He's silent, but his eyes are reaching out for you. You can feel it: his heart won't let him say he doesn't love you. 

He breaks the silence. "I think you're confused, baby. That's all." He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses it, tells you to go to bed. 

-

By the time Joel finishes showering and getting ready for bed, you're half asleep.  He doesn't put any clothes on before he comes to bed.

He throws the covers off, uncurls you from your fetal position, and puts you face-up on your back.  You observe the silhouette of his naked body looming over you like you’ve never seen him before.  He pulls your nightie off like he's undressing a doll.  He’s hungry in a different way now. You can feel it in the way he’s moving. He gets between your legs and buries his face in your chest, nosing at your nipples then sucking them hungrily.  His beard scratches you painfully, and it feels good, like anything from him. 

He spits on his hand and reaches down between you to add it to your growing wetness and guide his tip inside you.  He shudders as he shoves himself into you and bottoms out in one go, enrobed in what remains of his own cum and the tight hug of your walls. He retreats and your legs wrap around him. He plunges even deeper and grunts.  He looks down at your face, but after a moment of eye contact he abruptly yanks his eyes up to the wall behind the bed. He braces a hand on the wall and curls his other hand over your shoulder, holding you down toward him to stop you from riding up the mattress and hitting your head with his powerful thrusts.

You gasp and moan and watch the outline of his naked body flexing each time he moves his hips forward.  He’s spent from the day and night, you can tell.  But he’s still releasing some kind of tension. and meanwhile, you feel it gradually building deep in your belly.  After a few minutes of railing you, he pauses to rotate so you’re diagonal across the bed.  He brings his forearms down on the mattress and fucks you missionary with his naked body on yours. 

With his pelvis grinding into yours, the rub on your clit is nearly too much.  He begins to bury his length in you slowly, except for the moment he bottoms out each time with an animalistic punch from his hip flexors. 

“Joel,” you gasp. “I–Joel,” you whimper and your hips lift into him, seeking even more contact.  The tension releases all at once.  As your body writhes under his, you whimper his name again.  

His face is hovering over yours as he continues to slowly fuck you through your orgasm.  You restrain yourself from trying to kiss him.  He gets up on his hands, triceps bulging.  He hangs his head and watches your body take him, your breasts jiggling with each punch of his cock. Then he lowers himself again.  He bites and sucks your neck, marking you up as his length fills you to the brim.

He whispers, “god damn, you feel good like this” then slides his hands palm-up under your upper back to hold onto your shoulders from underneath, resting his weight on his forearms.  “Fuck,” he breathes and slams into you hard a few more times.  Then he groans as he plunges to the hilt and begins to pulse. He lowers his bare chest against yours and slowly thrusts twice more as his balls empty.  He rests some weight on you for a second and all your skin against all of his feels like something really special before he pulls out and rolls over onto his back.  

He lies there apart from you for a minute, then whispers, “c’mere,” and slides his hand under your neck.  You move closer and he pulls you right up against him.  You’re facing away and your back is flush with his side.  Your neck rests on his bicep and your head on his pillow.  He falls asleep quickly.  

-

You wake up in the middle of the night and he's holding you tighter than ever. "Joel, I can't – I can't breathe." You cough and pry his arm loose. He relaxes and you take in a deep breath as he presses a kiss into the back of your neck. A kiss he'll forget while the feeling lingers on your skin for days.  You wish you could understand why, but you’ll take the kiss.  You're still savoring it when he kisses your neck again. Then he gently cups your breast and sighs, "sweet pea," in his sleep. 

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thank you so much for reading and engaging! your reblogs and comments and discussion mean a lot, ESPECIALLY SINCE IT GOT A LABEL RIGHT AWAY lol <3

#9 is planned / has a scene written.

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All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore  @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy  @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk  @filthfairy  @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles  @harriedandharassed  @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy  @cutesyscreenname  @weddingfairy  @pedropascal-whore  @spideysimpossiblegirl  @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot

[miracledarling]

maybe YOU need to change...

[an loa rant, ⚠️blunt, honest not sugarcoating !!]

i usually try to be nicer BUT i just needed to put this out there.

i love answering asks and helping everyone. i love hearing when people get success. but sometimes i get the same asks over and over again and I'm repeating myself over and over again. and then i see a lot of bloggers getting the same ask. honestly, this is the law of assumption. it's nothing more than assumptions creates reality.

baby, if u feel tired, take a break. practice self care and pamper urself. if ur gonna constantly scroll on tumblr or whatever, then that's on u. if ur donna decide to overconsume instead of apply, instead of deciding that your desires are already yours, well i can't do anything about that. only you can change yourself. only u can change ur reality. nobody else can manifest for u. only if you change yourself first, you 3d will change. it's the law. aint nothing can be done about that. either apply and get ur desires or do nothing and get nothing.

and literally manifesting should take no effort. it's just thinking and accepting and knowing that it's already happened. if ur too lazy to even do that, then what are you gonna do? u didn't even need to move a finger to do this and yet you decide it's too much "work" for you? you keep copy and pasting the same ask to 9999 bloggers and that aint enough for you? you keep asking for "motivation" when you wouldn't even put in the work? and this "work" you refuse to put in doesn't even require lifting a damn finger? what?? i don't understand then. you gotta put in that "work" before you even feel motivated. trust me, you won't feel motivated until you get started and start applying and get towards ur goal. get off ur damn phone already. please. at least go outside and touch grass.

sweetie, you don't need to put ur life on hold either. literally give urself a break. let go of those non-existent "doubts." go take a walk, do some self care, spend time with friends and family. enjoy life while manifesting. if 3d circumstances are tough, be tougher. don't let it break you down. use ur imagination. take care of responsibilities in the 3d but persist in ur assumptions still. oh my god, what else is there that u need to know? please apply it alright.

i wrote this in this ask but i feel like i should put it in a separate post.

get off tumblr stop reading this info u already know what to do u don't need bloggers to give u advice or motivate u. u need to change and control urself. i keep getting the same asks again and again and i keep repeating the same thing over and over again. apply. accept and know it's done bc creation is finished. persist. be consistent. I'm so sorry if this sounds cold or blunt but i feel like I'm sugarcoating way too much when i answer asks so they never actually apply what i say. doesn't matter if there's motivation or not. u need to actually apply before u feel motivated.

[viathecloset]

Taehyung and jungkook's relationship is overlooked by 90% of the fandom solely because they are so controlled by the narrative of the fandom/company that they cannot quite accept that anything outside is even a remote possibility. Ive been more of a quiet observer for years now [my sister's an army since 2015] and I've seen the boys, moreover I know how marketing and kpop works. It's quite evident if u observe close enough of the pattern on how this group of seven guys who genuinely love music is marketed you would understand to what extent you're being brainwashed. Im not talking about this like a conspiracy theorist. It's quite simple and right infront of you. Yall refuse to accept it that's all.

1. There are a certain set of stories that are made to be told by them, over and over again. Even if it disturbs them or they are bored. E.g: 2018 disbandment story, vmin dumpling incident, jikook rain fight/tokyo trip, mind you there are many things that happend between people who lived together for 10+ yrs but if it cuts the flow of events you are made to believe happened you aren't gonna hear from it, ever.

2. Like stories there are dynamics that each pair is supposed to portray Taegi as annoying/annoyed duo, taejin/jikook as flirty HS boyfriends, namseok/taekook the awkward old friends and no matter how much the relationships change or evolve you won't see it cuz again, it won't FIT the narrative that has already been shown.

3. Like relationships there are characteristics that thankfully some members chose to break out of during their solo era: hoseok always being sunshine and loud ( he's quite serious and very dedicated infact ), jungkook being that muscle dude who only knows how to follow his Hyungs ( he's very independent and has a lot of targets he wants to achieve individually, he's very thoughtful and organized) and Taehyung being WEIRD and weak ( he's extremely intelligent and super strong he's strategic and disciplined)

4. This brings us to the whole Taekook narrative, the fact that they've been seen so much during solo era yet people had the audacity to still call them distant and awkward solely cuz it wasn't via company but through Taehyung's ig or jungkook mentioning him in interviews etc. I think it's needless to say they aren't comfortable being touchy and showy on camera for content, hell if they were to shoot everytime Taehyung and jungkook hangout there would he enough CONTENT till 2067. They're supportive of eo and have a very big shared friend circle, when jungkook went missing for almost 2 months we got to know Taehyung was the one he was with.

5. The thing is everyone [ including my own sister ] thinks that Taehyung is being desperate or such whenever he mentions Taehyung cuz a. Yall have actually led jokers run so fucking rampant that everytime the man mentions him actually doing something you're ready to throw him under the bus and call him a liar or such. b. Im not saying jungkook isn't close to anyone else but when he isn't working or shooting content and just wants to be himself the one you saw him most was around Taehyung and yes it matters. In the name of hating shippers yall have not only dissed the quite frankly PRIVATE bond they seem to share but went as far as dissing Taehyung himself cuz of the extreme level of manipulation yall are under.

Ik imma find armys [jikookers ]under this sooner or later calling me names but to be honest I'm sick and tired of yall dissing very real people and their very real human relationships solely based off the content yall are made to believe is 100% candid. Go touch grass, get friends, go date, don't obsess over them for a while then come back and try seeing it from a neutral perspective.

[highpri3stess]

Alright, Imma say it anyways.

Tw. Racism death threats etc

First, I'd like to thank people who told me to do other stuff outside tumblr today. You are real ones and I am grateful because I would have lost my mind if I didn't do something else today. To people who texted and checked up on me. You are real ones. I was getting to a level where my mental state was spiraling and yall talked sense into me. I'm gonna let this go, right after this.

Now, to the controversal statement.

This is the last thing I'll say before I do other stuff on here.

If you expect me to be quiet after seeing "Monica deserves fifty lashes, she's a slave n-word bitch that needs to be decapitated and her boobs cut off" you are racist. No, no, no don't gasp, don't gasp you know it's the truth.

If I unfollowed you after that issue and you blocked me, you prove to me, you are an enabler of racism. No, no, no, don't gasp either, you know it's the truth.

If you were a black creator who followed me and then got mad at me and unfollowed me because if that issue, you are also an enabler of racism. No no no don't gasp, don't gasp hold your breath I'm not done talking.

You know why I said this thing?

Three of the people in these categories were actually defending that guy caught with shota shit. Yes. You people were so ready to defend that guy, one of you even made a fucking alt account to defend that piece of shite, as if his life was in danger. I saw some people I'm exmoots with liking posts defending him while saying "oh his actions are gross". Who are you trying to deceive?

And when I started getting racist anons, some of yall had the nerve to tell me I am a drama blog and yall don't want to hang out with me no more. I was literally getting threats and slurs and that was all some of you said on anon. And you have the guts to still reblog shit on my account? Is it because I didn't expose you? Because I know it was you. Yes you. One of you even caused the entire issue by sending the post to that person. I know you. You caused this. Fuck you.

And yes I called some of you inhumane. You all were ready to jump on that guys dick but to defend someone who was recieving SLURS all of a sudden "I'm not a discourse blog". And when I said it, some of yall appeared in my dms saying I was being too mean. No. That was me being TOO nice, I could have called them something far worse and they would have deserved anything I called them.

And hell, some of you that are black jumped in my dms. I know you would not have the balls to open your damn mouth if it was not your fellow black authors, since you decided you wanted to kiss ass. And I know you don't have the balls because you did not go to the perpertrator and disrespect them like that.

All of you involved plus that weak ass fool going on people's accounts saying those slurs are spineless. Spineless weaklings. Since all of you in these groups of people have decided to be afraid of some disgraced mf who cannot do shit off anon, you all are the weakest links. And you deserved to be dragged by the root of your hair because you rather defend a pedo than stand against racism.

And if this offends you and your Kabal, or your queen mother, since you people are shaking in your boots when you see her, you have yourself to blame. Look in the mirror and reflect. Maybe grow a pair or two.

Anytime I feel bad, I remember you mfs and I feel better about myself. "I may be having a hard time, but at least I'm not spineless."

I am glad I broke mutuals with some of you weird bitches and I am glad my anons are off. Trust, if you ever get harrassed, you do not have my sympathy. In fact, I will tell you word for word, exactly what you told me and I will do it off anon- "Why are you being a drama blog?" "Just stop being angry and touch grass"

If the shoe fits. If you like, send this on your discord server and groups. Fuck y'all.

- love, Monica