#tell us about you love story pls

[amoeba05]

the class trying to get the teacher to talk about his life so we don't have class

nah, but fr tell us your lore I'm interested

[bananaguyboi]

I love how the fandom collectively agrees that Cho sam is either a wholesome bean that must be protected at all cost, or a normal dude with no(?) personality whatsoever outside of being normal. ( Maybe he's more of a troublemaker idk, but atleast he's less worse than chung myung heh-)

And whether you think he's confident or not, You just know he'll be scared shitless of what ever the fuck is going on in Mount Hua Sect.

Anyhow, no matter what cho sam's interpretation in your mind, I need more fics, and art of him- PLEASSE🙏🙏🙏

[not-so-superheroine]

[sweetgaleria]

Help a college student graduate by answering a survey!!

Hey!! Are you over 18 and in the miraculous fandom? Then this is for you!!

Hi everyone, this is my last semester of uni, and one of my final projects to be able to graduate is to write a scientific paper. I'm writing an article about adult fans of children's animation, specifically Miraculous Ladybug. My goal is to understand what makes adults (like us) want to join fandoms centered around shows aimed primarily at children, and to do that I'd love to hear directly from the source! The survey takes around 10 minutes to answer, it's 100% anonymous and it would help me immensely!

>>Click here for the survey<<

I need at least 30 people to answer, but honestly the more the merrier! I've also made a little thank you gif at the end, so if you see it let me know! If you have any questions feel free to send me an ask, as well!

Please reblog so it can reach more people! Thank you so much!

[moongothic]

On the train of your last ask, what are your thoughts on dragons sexuality?

Personally I think he’s Demi something (more attracted to personality than looks or gender)

Honestly because we don't know that much about the guy it's kind of hard for me to form an opinion, and if Crocodad Real then we're going to find out his orientation eventually (since we gotta find out if that was a contributing factor to the Dragodile Divorce (assuming they're divorced)) so I'm kind of okay with not forming any headcanons, since the headcanon could get thrown out the window

If anything, what interests me is how Dragon's orientation could impact the story-- like when I've discussed the Dragodile Divorce I have mainly focused on speculating how Crocodile would've felt about it, but how Dragon felt about that is interesting too

Because if he's straight then yeah that probably contributed to The Divorce, but how did Dragon feel about it? Learning that the love of his life is now happier than ever before after transitioning and being happy for him, while also losing the version of Crocodile that he fallen in love to begin with? No longer feeling thet draw to him because of the thing that has brought him so much joy and comfort? Knowing that even if they did take down the WG the family Dragon had hoped to have would never come to be, because their relationship would now end? And that it would be on some level his fault, because he's not attracted to Crocodile anymore?

Like even if Dragon took things well and the divorce happened "on good terms", it would've been sad for Dragon too.

But then there's a slightly juicier option, because what if Dragon was bi, but the Divorce happened under unpleasant circumstances (be it Dragon lashing out or things getting violent because he couldn't recognize Crocodile) and he didn't figure it out until it was too late?

Because you'd still have Dragon going through some if not all of those previously mentioned feelings, of having to come to terms with the version of his significant other whom he had fallen in love with no longer existed, the family had pictured in his mind would never become a thing, that those things were be kind of his fault and that he had hurt Crocodile deeply in the process. But then he'd be looking at some news article of Crocodile's most recent heroic stunt, seeing his handsome face with that usual, unbothered expression, and realizing he still loved him? That he still wanted to be with him, wished they were together, even now that Crocodile was a far more handsome man than he was? And then the realization that he's bi hitting him like a fucking truck But it's too late. The divorce already happened. He already hurt Crocodile too deeply. Knowing Croc, he had probably already moved on. There was no fixing it, the relationship was over. At least for now, trying to go see Croc could be dangerous due to the WG and not wanting to risk the WG finding out about them and The Kid and Croc would probably be furious if Dragon even risked that at this point, after what he had done. Oh, and then Crocodile killed thousands of innocent people attempting to usurp a country by manufacturing a civil war. Something Dragon can't forgive. (Not to mention, hearing he had been taken down by their own son... Oof)

But what if despite all that, and not knowing the full circumstances behind what had happened (like the fact that Crocodile didn't know who the hell Luffy was), Dragon still loved Crocodile? What then?

[revasserium]

狐と蛍の物語 (the story of the fox and the firefly)

harrison; 4,064 words; fluff and angst a/n: for @violettduchess and @aquagirl1978's summer days, sultry nights event -- prompt "fireflies" (obviously); i'm also gonna say this counts for my 31 days of au prompt -- reincarnation!au; inspired by hotarubi no mori e and catheryn m valente's deathless and honestly, i'm so proud and happy with this one that i'd encourage you to read it even if you have no idea of the fandom/character. u__u i would love, love, love to know what you guys think!

once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there lived a girl who only danced to the firefly’s light and a fox who could tell nothing but lies.

01.

for as long as you can remember, there’s always been the wood. and it has always been behind your house, it’s leaves and branches foreboding in the winter wind, and somehow less so in the simmer of mid-summer afternoons, when the sunlight dappled light across the soft, forest floor. it isn’t a very large wood, but it’s a wood nevertheless, and deserves all the respect and fear afforded to bigger woods in faraway places. woods that warn of teeth and terrors, woods that hide both dreams and monsters.

you’d been wandering the wood from when you were a little girl, and to you, there’s not a single rock you don’t know, a single tree you haven’t tried to climb. and the forest knows you, as forests do the people who frequent them, and it welcomes you with open arms, it cradles you to its chest, whispers stories into your ears, carves itself open to show you it’s secrets —

“you’re late.”

you crinkle your nose at the familiar voice, letting out a huffing breath as you drop your picnic basket in the middle of the small, sun-lit clearing, taking your time with laying out the checked picnic blanket and two cups and saucers for tea, and finally, pulling out a tray of confections, covered by a thin, linen baking towel.

“no, i’m not! you just want me to think i am so i’ll give you more than half of the sweets.”

a boy settles over the picnic blanket, cocking his head at you before you narrow your eyes.

“well? isn’t that true?”

“ahh… i wonder if it is…” he says, but you can hear the grin in his voice, even through the material of his fox-faced mask, which, after a few more seconds of posturing, he pushes up onto his forehead. he shakes out his milk-tea hair and slates you a poison-ivy grin. you know that grin like you know the woods— and you know the woods like you know the backs of your own hands. better, even, you think sometimes.

because for as long as there’s been the woods, and as long as you have wandered it’s depths, the boy with the fox-faced mask has always been there.

“there were fresh strawberries at farmer’s market today,” you say, setting up the tea service as you nudge the opened picnic basket towards the boy with a foot. he peers in with wide, curious eyes before letting out a soft noise of contentment as he reaches in to pull out a slice of freshly baked strawberry cream cake.

“your grandmama makes the best pastries in the world,” he says, and there’s such sincerity in his voice that for a moment, you almost believe him.

but you nod and take the compliment in stride, “she sure does!”

he digs in with gusto even when you tut that the tea hasn’t steeped properly, but you laugh as he smears a large dollop of whipped cream across his cheeks. you point it out to him with a dainty finger, and as always, you fight the urge to reach over and wipe it off for him. instead, you hold yourself still and sigh as he finally gets to it, smudging a bit into his hair in the process.

“clumsy fox,” you giggle, pressing a hand up to your lips.

“picky girl,” he snipes back, but there’s that full, sated grin on his own lips as he leans back, his elbows propped up on the soft grasses of the clearing.

after a moment of pleasant silence during which the leaves sang on their trees and the grasses swayed beneath the breeze, the boy turns towards you.

“so. no dancing today?”

you turn your head towards him before casting your eyes up towards the still bright blue sky.

“you know it’s not time yet.”

the boy heaves a melodramatic sigh, sound much bigger and larger than his 14-year old body should be able to hold.

“ah… right, right — because you can —”

“— only dance by the fireflies’ light — yep!”

the boy regards you with an imperious sort of look before breaking into a fit of bright, open laughter.

“you’re the strangest girl i’ve ever met!”

“just you saying that tells me it’s not true,” you stick out your tongue at him, even as heat washes up into your cheeks.

the boy shrugs, lying back down on the picnic basket, “i don’t always have to lie, y’know.”

and it’s your turn to regard him with the imperious look, and, a the cock of a singular eyebrow, his lips tug into a lopsided grin. his eyes flash, the color of budding spring.

“liar,” you say, but you’re smiling too as you lie back down to watch the clouds pass.

he makes no sound to correct you.

02.

once, you’d asked him what his name is and he simply shook his head and said —

“call me whatever you’d like.”

“but i want to call you by your name.”

“what’s in a name anyway?”

“uhm… nothing’s in it but…” you’d frowned then, your eight year old mind spinning to try and catch up with this strange, strange question and this strange, strange boy.

“see? so why should it matter what my name is? just… call me whatever!”

but you’d only frowned hard enough for him to roll his eyes.

“fine then — uhm — what’s the name of the current prince?”

you’d blinked, “harry.”

“then call me that.”

“but is that your name?”

“well, now it is.”

you hadn’t been convinced but you liked it better than not calling him anything at all.

“harry, then,” you’d said, smiling. and the boy — harry — had smiled too, slipping his fox-faced mask back in place as he led you further into the forest.

03.

“y’know…” harry says, his voice light as the sun dips beneath the horizon line, leaving behind a blaze of reds and pinks. you turn your head, eyes catching on the shape of him, inked out against the dying light.

“you’re the only person i’ve ever met who’s wanted to be cursed.”

you take a long breath and turn your eyes back up to the bleeding sky.

“well. you’re cursed, and you seem just fine to me,” you try to keep your voice strong, resolute and steady. grandmama had always said that if you keep your voice strong, people are more willing to believe your words. you wonder if that’s why harry’s voice is always soft, always lilting, his words slippery as moss-covered stone.

“yeah, but you can’t even touch me,” he says, and for once, his voice is harsh, his words sharp and hard as broken glass.

“that’s okay though — once i get my own curse, i’ll be able to touch you, right?”

harry fights back the urge to turn, to take you by the shoulders and shake you till you push him away. he wants to scream, to howl at the moon like the mother wolves and the hungry cubs that live in the heart of the wood. he wants to run through the woods, crash into things, climb up the trees and shake off all their branching leaves.

but he can’t, and so he doesn’t.

instead, he turns to look at you and look at you and look at you.

he wonders if it’s a strange thing, to like looking at someone so much, to find something new about a face every single time it’s looked upon — the wisps of hair fallen loose to frame your face from the velvet ribbons holding it back, the curve of your button nose, the dip of your cupid’s bow. he wonders if this is a normal thing, the thick weight of it in this chest, the truth of his curse sitting heavy on his tongue.

“yeah… probably,” he says — and the lie is smooth as milk, sweet as just-spun sugar.

“good. then we won’t have long to wait, hm?”

04.

there’s a story, so you’ve been told, of a fox that lives in the woods — and the fox can tell nothing but lies, lest the truth cut open it’s throat. and when it bleeds, because even monsters bleed (oh especially monsters), it will bleed in blue and silver, which everyone knows is the color of magic.

“but why would telling the truth kill it?” you’d asked, your eyes wide and round as the full-bellied moon.

your grandmama had sighed, rocking you in her lap as the forest outside shivers and shakes with the steps and breaths of creatures unseen.

“that’s what curses do, my sweetest… they’re unfair things, they are. and they don’t like to make a lot of sense.”

and that had been that. she’d moved onto a nicer story, a sweeter story, a story that was not so much truth and mostly lies — because the truth, as your grandmama had said, is sharp and unfair and makes so very little sense.

lies are much, much the better for the makings of stories.

05.

he has never complimented you on your dancing, not even once — not in all the years you’ve been dancing for him, by the light of a million and one fireflies.

you’d been eight when you made the promise, it’s been ten years since then.

and at eighteen, you wonder how many more years it’ll be before the moon or the forest or whatever it is that chooses people to curse will take pity on you.

it’s just after sunset, and you’d just finished your customary sunday afternoon picnic. harry is sprawled out on the picnic blanket, his fox-faced mask lying in the soft, long grasses, an arm thrown over his eyes. you wonder if he’s asleep, though you don’t think you’ve ever seen him fall asleep, not in all the time you’ve known him.

“music, please…” you announce to the clearing, and after a long pause, as if the forest itself is coming to life, the wind picks up — the leaves rustle on their branches, the birds sweep up into a twitter wingbeats and song, the grasses around the clearing hish and hush the thrumming baseline to a music that only you and harry and the forest can hear.

slowly, harry pushes himself up, making a show of rubbing his eyes, and in the darkness you can only see the shape of him.

you don’t see the prickle of tears at the edge of his eyes as he wipes them away.

instead, you close your own eyes and wait.

and wait.

and then — at the first flicker of a firefly’s light, you lift your hands and start to dance.

06.

once, you’d asked him how he’d gotten cursed in the first place.

“it’s a long story,” he’d said.

“i’ve got a long time,” you countered.

he’d crinkled his nose, pursing his lips as the pair of you hopped over a narrow stream, him watching as you teetered on the edge of the water.

“hm… well, if you do something a ton of times in the wood… the wood decides that that’s all your good for, and it becomes your curse!”

you’d blinked up at him from over your shoulder, a soft smear of mud on your cheeks.

“oh… it’s that easy?”

“easy?”

“i mean, to get a curse.”

he’d narrowed his eyes, “why would you want a curse?”

you’d straightened up, pressing your palms down your rather sullied dress.

“because — you said that i can’t touch you cause i’m human, right?”

“uh-huh…” harry had nodded, uncertain of where your child-logic had taken you.

“but other cursed things can touch you, right? like the wolves and the shadows and the queen of ravens.”

harry bit his lips. but you seemed to have taken his silence for consent and happily skipped off further into the forest. he’d never corrected you even as he heaved another world-weary sigh and followed after you. because technically, you hadn’t been totally wrong.

and his curse was only that he couldn’t correct you.

07.

your mind wanders as you begin to dance, and these days, it’s been doing a lot of that — wandering. so your grandmama says that it’s a part of growing up — learning when to let your mind wander and when to reign it back in, hold it on a tighter leash and tell it to wander no more. it’s a blessing to be able to let your mind wander, and so you do.

it’s just that these days, you can’t help but notice that it’s less of wandering and more of… well, a straight-shot descent to a well-known destination. and you know from a whole childhood of actual wandering that if you know the way and you know what you’ll find at the end, then it’s not wandering at all.

it’s just going.

but still, you let your mind go where it wants, and lately, it’s been going and going and going... to harry.

harry and his soul-soft laughter, harry and his knife-edge smiles, harry and his loose, lethargic movements, unhurried and always so certain. back when you were both still children, he’d led you through the forest with nothing but his voice, spouting out random facts that were much too outlandish to be true, and later, when you were both a bit older (and you’d long since memorized every bit of forest there was to memorize), he’d walk alongside you in companionable silence.

you knew his favorite trees, his favorite flowers, his favorite birds and colors, his favorite season, his favorite sweet, his favorite fruit and so many others.

and still, it feels as if you don’t know him at all, even though you’re certain he knows everything there is to know about you.

except…

you spin out on the long grasses, the light of a million and one fireflies dancing across your skin, dancing with you, singing with you as the forest does. and above you, a crescent moon cuts a sinister smile into a lonely, starless night.

years later, you’d wonder if the night had known — if the wood had known (of course, of course it had known, because there are no secrets the woods do not know, no secrets the waning moon doesn’t keep from the sleeping earth), if the entire world had conspired against you and for you that night.

when you finish dancing and the last of the fireflies flicker down to rest on the long, soft grasses, you’re breathless with exertion, luminous with exaltation and drunk on the song of the forest and a million and one lightless stars.

in the middle of the clearing, harry is smiling, you can see it even from here, and for the first time since you’d danced for him the very first time, he brings his hands together and claps.

“that was… beautiful,” he says, and his voice is deeper now, supple and sweet with the night air.

“th-thanks! phew — i really think that might do it,” you say, plopping down on the picnic blanket next to him, spreading wide your arms and staring up at the velveteen sky above you.

08.

once, you’d been told another story, though you don’t quite recall who you’d heard it from. maybe your grandmama, and maybe the old man who sits in the village square after all the longest days of the year, smoking his pipe and telling his stories.

“do you know why the cursed forest creatures can’t touch humans?”

“why?” a village boy had asked before you had the chance to.

“because… if a cursed creature touches human flesh, the cursed creature will die.”

“oh…” you said, clutching your hands to your chest, and you’d never really thought about dying. because really, what ten year old in their right mind would? but you knew of the concept from when grandmama talked about grandpapa — how he was there one day and then the next day he just… wasn’t.

“he died in his sleep,” she’d said, a tone of sadness in her voice that you’d never heard there before and wished you’d never have to hear again, “it was the best way to go.”

you’d wondered then if there’s really such thing as a “best” way to go. wouldn't the “best” thing to be not going at all?

“then… do the cursed creatures get to live forever?” you asked, before the village boy could cut in.

the old man took a long sip from his pipe and blew out a few concentric rings of smokes before coughing and waving it all away.

“no… you see, if the cursed creatures get to pass on their curses, they’d get to be reincarnated into being a human once more.”

09.

“do you… really want to be cursed?” harry asks as the pair of you share in the silence after your dance.

you suck in a long breath before pushing yourself up to sit in front of him, careful to keep your knees from bumping his.

“of course i do! it’s… it’s what i’ve been trying to do since i was like — eight!”

“but… why?” and harry’s voice is small, smaller than you’ve ever heard it, even though now, his eighteen year old body should carry a much heavier, harder sound.

“because,” you say, resolute as you’d always been, “once i’m cursed, i’ll be able to touch you.”

“and why… is that so important to you?”

harry casts his eyes towards you; you catch his gaze with yours, holding it steady. and in that moment, you mind lets go of the story that the old man told you. because it was a long time ago, and the story was so, so far away. and sometimes, the mind chooses which truths it wants to listen to, which truths it wants to believe in.

sometimes, it chooses truths that don’t look like truths from the outside in, but from the inside out — they’re the truest things to ever be true.

like this one —

“because i want to touch you. because… it’s what i’ve wanted since i was a little girl. because… sometimes, i think i want to do more than touch you — sometimes —” your voice catches on a hitched breath, lost somewhere in your chest, somewhere between your heart and your throat.

but then, darkness descends over your vision and it takes you a long moment to realize that you’re staring at the inside of a mask, thin but solid — the fox-faced mask that harry always wears.

and then pressure, and warmth, right where the fox’s dagger-carved grin usually is, so close to your own lips you can feel the heat.

it holds for a long, long moment, and then it’s gone.

the light returns as harry tugs the mask from you, grinning that teasing, lopsided grin of his, though there’s something about it tonight that makes your heart seize.

“tell me, one more time…” he says, and his voice is jagged with something that sounds painful and true and so, so terrible.

“i — i want the curse…” you say, before you really realize what you’re saying, and it takes you a moment to realize that this too, is the truth.

“okay then… it’s yours.”

and he leans in to press his lips to yours.

the truth, harry realizes, is always bitter, and harsh, and much too sharp. when he pulls back, he presses his palms to yours and lets the moon wash the clearing in blue and silver. you gasp as you feel the magic creeping into your bones, tugging you under, dragging you through the cracks in the world even as harry is tugged away from you back to the world of the living.

“w-was this all a lie?” you ask, because inside you, your heart is fighting for it’s last few beats.

“no,” harry says, his voice is pained, and his expression even more so, because every truth he tells cuts him a little deeper, and he feels his throat constrict over the words, “your dance really was beautiful… and…”

he swallows hard, feeling the knife-edge of this one final truth slicing through him, sharp as moonlight, sweet as the lightless stars.

“i love you. please… don’t forget me.”

and already, you can feel the truth starting to hurt, starting to constrict inside you like a curse. but still, you force it from you as harry flickers and fades along with the light of a million and one firefly lights.

“i — i won’t.”

10.

“but how exactly do you transfer a curse?” the village boy asked, his voice loud and jarring.

the old man takes another long sip of his pipe, puffs out a few more smoke rings.

“through a kiss,” he said.

you blinked. a kiss?

“ew!” the village boy recoiled then, shrinking back from the thought of kissing — because that’s what children are taught to do at such grown-up concepts as kissing.

you, on the other hand, you stayed right where you are, but a frown has creased your tiny, child-like brow.

“and the trick,” the old man continues, his smile going wide and a little lascivious, “is getting someone who will take their curse willingly… to accept the kiss.”

01.

for as long as harry can remember, there has always been the wood. and in the wood, there’s always been a girl with a fox-painted mask who danced to the light of the fireflies.

once, when he’d gone exploring (even though his grandpapa had warned him time and time again about going into the wood by himself), he’d nearly run into her and she’d cocked her head when he’d fallen face-first near the bank of a tiny stream, smearing mud across his cheeks.

“you’re strange little boy,” the girl said — and she could be no more than his age, harry thinks.

“and you’re a weird little girl,” he counters, his eyes catching on the bright red of the fox’s painted mouth.

there is magic at work here, harry knows, though he doesn’t know what kind, and all he really wants is to explore the woods behind his house, to know all there is to know of the world, and perhaps — he thinks as you turn and make your way deeper into the forest — to one day hold the hand of the girl with the fox-faced mask.

but that’s a wish for another day, he decides as he follows after you, jogging to catch up and ask for your name.

“ah… what’s in name,” you say, you voice light and languid, even as he frowns, “you can call me whatever you like.”

02.

once, harry had asked his grandpapa what the truest feeling in the whole wide world is.

and his grandpapa had answered —

“that, harry, would be falling in love…”

“falling in love?”

“yes, my dear boy — and the thing about love is that it’s like a curse… but it’s also like a blessing.”

“but… how can a thing be a curse and a blessing?”

then, his grandpapa had smiled, a smile that is starlight and wolfsong and all the secrets the forest ever has to tell.

“because we are doomed to always, always fall in love, my boy — and it will always, always be like handing someone and knife and asking them to cut open your throat.”

[nadiajustbe]

Everytime a person reablogs my hmc book post as "#studioghibli" an angel loses his wings

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

tomorrow is my first day of classes as I go back to school for the first time in eight years and my family has picked today to blow up at each other and drag me into it

[freelancerwizard]

Crying and sobbing how the main cast of ffxiv is treated with love and respect to their growth, how they are given scenes to lovingly written and crafted to their character's journey - you see them grow, hate, love, accept death, accept life and love, and become your trusted friend until the end

wwwaaughhh

[peaceeandcoolestvibes]

Yall: being famous and rich is amazing

These bitches:

[gasmeros]

"please update" what if i said no ._.

[noorsh11]

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[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @lavender-constellation

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for commissioning, means a whole lot <3 This is a part 2 of this post, and we have this other post as a continuation. This piece is a longer version of the second one with two sex-scenes. Hope y’all like it!

Request: I’d love a part two to the monster kissing booth story, upgrading to a sex booth (but like not officially if that makes sense? Like it’s still a kissing booth but in the middle of the market, fem!reader just can’t take it anymore and it becomes a sex booth) with maybe a little bit of emphasis on a tentacle monster and orc coming to the booth 👀 Just no vampires pls!

Naughty booth

Orc x fem!reader + Tentacle monster x fem!reader || tentacle sex, size difference, oral sex, cum play (lowkey), free use, double penetration, squirting

You are coming down from an orgasm when someone screams: “Dude, come on! There’s more of us waiting!” You giggle, the werewolf (who woks two booths down, at the art booth) between your legs sighs as he grabs some tissues to help clean you the best he can so the next monster can have his turn with your soft human flesh.

“Don’t be impatient, you’ll want your sweet time when you get there,” someone else retorts. The line is so long you can’t really see how many monsters are still waiting.

You are way too fucked out already. Your pussy feels stretched even though there’s only been like three monsters so far. You are in heaven, everything feels great. A succubus gave you some of her special magic, and made sure you were extra sensitive and you could fit every size of monster. You will have to find her later and thank her. Maybe even ask her on a date… But that’s something for later.

“Leave it, come on! I don’t care about your jizz, I’ll use it as lube,” a rough voice says behind you.

The werewolf leans down and pecks your lips, promising to come later with some food. You smile softly at him, and see him go as you wait on the table he set you onto. He fucked you so good you still can’t feel your legs. But the next patron doesn’t care about it.

A big orc with a grumpy face appears over you, his erection already out and making your mouth water. “Can you take an orc, little human?” He’s so big… You pray to the goddess that he’d fit inside of you, but the succubus said every size of monster would fit, and you believe her. You really should thank her later.

“Ye- yes. I can,” you tell him. You can’t move much, too tired to participate much, but eager to get fucked all over again.

You can still feel some of the werewolf cum dripping out of your pussy, but when the orc’s fingers tease your entrance, you groan all over again. He pushes some of the cum back inside, scissoring his fingers to make sure you are prepped enough for him. He sits down on a chair and grabs your body, manhandling you until you are on his lap, your body little in comparison to his big physique.

“Prove it,” he tells you holding your body with one hand and his dick with the other. You try to fit him inside, but you can’t get the correct angle. “Come here,” he says. He moves you until your pussy is right over his dick, and you start to descend. He doesn’t wait, though. He puts his big hands against your hips and lowers you completely, making you arch your back and cry out as you hear cheering behind you.

The fact that everyone is looking and enjoying themselves with the spectacle only adds a new layer of heat to your growing arousal. You can’t believe you are still horny after all the orgasms you had, but the movement of the orc inside of you is driving you to the sky once again. He fucks you like a fleshlight, moving your body up and down like a toy and making you groan and moan in a symphony of depravity.

“Come on, little human, your pussy is perfection, let me feel you flutter around my big dick.” His words should be cringy, but at that moment, you can just groan as he keeps using your body and you get closer and closer to the edge. With precision that shouldn’t be legal, he moves your hips until his dick is rubbing against your perfect spot, making you come apart instantly. “That’s it, good goddess, I love your pussy.”

He keeps going, fucking you restlessly as your body gives up and your skin gets tingly. He pinches your nipple as he comes, the combination of the amount of cum he’s shooting inside of you and the pain-pleasure sending you into another orgasm that has your eyesight blacking out for a few seconds.

You come back to a tongue between your legs and your thighs pressing the sides of the orc’s head. He’s kneeling between your legs, at some point he manhandled you into a sitting position in the chair. He hums happily against your clit. You think you can’t take anymore, but the thing the succubus gave you is potent, so a new wave of heat fills your insides as you sigh happily as the orc cleans you out with his tongue. He makes you come around his fingers and tongue one more time before the next in line starts complaining.

“Dude you made her come three times already, let some other people enjoy!” You chuckle, but it’s lost in a loud groan as the orc sucks on your clit, his tusks framing your pussy in the most amazing way.

“They can’t stop complaining, little human, I guess is time for me to go. I hope this is not a one time thing… I had fun with your pretty pussy.” He kisses said pussy one more time before saluting you with his hand and walking away, fastening his pants as he goes.

Anticipation fills your insides when the next patron appears. You see his tentacles before you see him. Fuck, you never had tentacle sex.

“Look at that, the sex-princess is all fucked out…” The tentacles around him are moving like crazy and you have to hold your breath as one slowly approaches your body. The first contact is cold and a bit slimy, but in a good way. It feels like cooling-lube over your body, and it’s so good you groan. “Yes, like that… You love a good tentacle, don’t you, sex-princess?” You want to answer him, but he waits no longer to latch two suckers to your nipples, making you scream as the next in line laughs.

“Don’t tease her too much, I want her to still be there when my turn comes around,” she says. You can’t see which kind of monster she is, but you silently agree with her. There’s still a lot of monsters that want to try your soft human flesh.

“Okay… Okay.” The tentacle monster’s voice is reluctant, but he moves his tentacles around your body, positioning you spread over the table again.

You lay there, looking at the ceiling as you feel more tentacles join the fun. The two on your nipples start sucking harder, enticing more groans out of your mouth. Another tentacle finds your pussy and goes in without preamble. You cry out again and the crowd cheers. You think he’s going to fuck you like everyone else did, but instead, he latches another sucker inside of you, right over your G-spot. You scream at the feeling. Too good, too much.

You feel tears rolling down your cheeks as he adds another sucker to your clit, making you see stars. The combination of sensations is so good you feel something inside of you building. Something unknown, like you are going to break if he keeps going like that. When you think you can’t take anymore, he adds another tentacle to your pussy, stretching you impossibly wide as he starts fucking you with the second one.

The combination of suckers and fucking is too much and you feel something explode inside of you, a gush of liquid leaving your body and making him gasp in surprise.

“Did she just squirt?” Some monster asks, amazement filling their voice.

“Yes, she did.” The tentacle monster looks so smug you feel a bit embarrassed, but too fucked to complain. He keeps going, making you come two more times around his tentacles. “Good job, sex-princess, you did great.” He tells you before disappearing.

The next monster is already waiting, strap on and a big smile on her face.

It’s going to be a long day… and you are going to enjoy every single second of it.

[pomegranatesarchive]

PR nightmare | oscar piastri

paring: oscar piastri x singer!reader

summary: y/n is considered a pr nightmare. let’s watch her get into her first relationship.

notes: yet another repost from my old account, i tired to make it exactly the same, enjoy!

— y/n has posted new pictures!

liked by mclaren, f1, yourbrother, and 737,938 others!

yoursername: my manger told me to tell you guys that the illuminati is NOT real and i was just joshing around !! 😂👍👍😂

view comments below!

user1: ugh this is SO BELIEVABLE

user2: | WAS WAITING FOR THIS POST

user3: yeah let's all ignore the "i wrote songs about an f1 driver!!!!"

user4: the pictures 😭

yourmomsuser: pic credits?

yoursername: you're like 60 why do you know what pic credits are ??

user5: the illuminati is totally real 🙄

mclaren: 👀

yourusername: NO THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING PLS LOOK AWAY

user6: no offense, but how did you stumble across F2 oscar???

yourusername: my brother is like a HUGE f1, 2, AND 3 nerd and he always forces me to watch races with him 😣

yourbrothersuser: you literally ask me to tell you when oscar's back on the screen???

yourusername: okay kill yourself????

yourbrothersuser: @/yourmomsuser

yourusername: GOD YOU ARE SUCH A SNITCH

ynupdates: y/n and her brother; jacob, were seen at the airport earlier today, she later posted the picture on the right, on her story, confirming that she is in fact traveling. y/n has no shows coming up, and she rarely travels with jacob. thoughts?

view comments below!

user7: guys guys..the monaco grand prix in literally in two days.

user8: SHES GOING TO THE GRAND PRIX. I KNOW IT.

user9: why's her brother kinda??

user10: you can't even see his face 😭😭?

user9: I CAN JUST TELL

user11: everyone saying she's going to the grand prix are like getting my hopes up??????

user12: WATCH HER GO SOMEWHERE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT 😭

user13: okay guys..but we never talked about what songs could be about oscar

user14: IVE DONE SO MUCH THINK ABOUT THIS!!!

user13: GIRL PLEASE TELL

user14: OKAY OKAY!! one that REALLY stands out to me is "my love mine all mine" because, we all know y/n has never had a boyfriend before, SO when she writes love songs, obviously people speculate that she's in a relationship

user14: WHEN SHE WAS ASKED ABOUT THE INSPIRATION FOR "my love mine all mine" she said "i sadly do not have a boyfriend yet. but there is someone i've had my eye on for some time." SHE COULD HAVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT OSCAR AND WE DIDNT EVEN NOTICE

user15: istg if y/n doesn't show up in the paddock tomorrow, i will throw a fit.

liked by mclaren, f1, yourbrother, and 837,938 others!

yourusername: i could tell you where i am and what im doing, but its funny reading the theories

view comments below !

user15: are you going to a secret illuminati meeting user16: pls y/n pls just tell us

user17: this is cruel AND YOU KNOW IT

user18: pls lord, let y/n go to the monaco grand prix🙏🙏

user19: there's no way she ISNT going to the grand prix, i mean she's with her brother, and he's literally like the biggest f1 fan ever?? why else would they be traveling together

user20: maybe they're traveling together because they're siblings😭😭 ?? it doesn't have to connect to f1

yourbrothersuser: y/n pls put the phone down. i need a good nights rest for tomorrow.

user21: TOMORROW ???? IS ??? THE ???? GRAND ??? PRIX ??? ARE ???? YOU ??? GUYS ???? GOING ????

ynupdates: it seems like the rumors are true! y/n and jacob are currently at the grand prix!

view comments below!

user 22: 1 FUCKING KNEW IT

user23: everyone knew it...

user24: WHOO CAREEESSS oscar and y/n interaction WHEN ???

user25: ugh i NEED grid x y/n interactions RN

user26: y/n this, oscar that. WHAT I NEED IS TO SEE Y/NS BROTHER MEET MAX

user27: omg can you imagine how happy he is rn

— mclaren has posted new photos!

liked by yourusername, f1, yourbrother, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 837,938 others!

mclaren: monaco was a dream! thank you y/n for joining us view comments below!

view comments below!

user28: 1 SHOULVE BEEN THERE. I COULDVE METY/N. THAT SHOULDVE BEEN ME.

yourusername: thank you for having me🧡

user29: okay now make oscar and y/n kiss

yourbrothersuser: thank you for making my dream come true 🙏🙏

redbullracing: @/yourusername our garage next

yourusername: i think @/yourbrothersuser would enjoy that more then i ever could

redbullracing: he's always welcome to join 💙

yourbrothersuser: AHHHHHH OMG OMG

user30: okay now more grid x y/n content

user31: the way this became like a meet and greet for y/n was INSANE

user32: who would've thought there would be so many y/n fans at a F1 race??

user33: everyone's a y/n l/n fan.

— y/n has posted new photos!

liked by, mclaren, landonorris, oscarpiastri 763,928 others!

yourusername: do you think he'll try weed with me now that he's my boyfriend?

view comments below !

user34: EXCUSE ME BOYFRIEND???

user35: OMG Y/N GOT HER FIRST BOYFRIEND!! АННННН

user36: OSCAR AND Y/N??? HELL YEAH

user37: okay let's just pretend that doesn't say what it says 😭

yourmanger: y/n please change that caption.

yourusername: i don't know how ☹️

user38: WHO CARES ABOUT THE CAPTION!!! Y/N AND OSCAR SHIPPERS RISE

mclaren: in case that caption isn't a joke, y/n please refrain from getting our drivers high.

yourusername: YOU GUYS ARE NO FUNN

user39: i love how public y/n is. like she genuinely acts like she doesn't have millions of followers

oscarpiastri: love i already told you, we cant get high.

yourusername: YOU WOULD IF YOU LOVED ME.

maxverstappen1: i'll get high with you y/n 🙋‍♂️

redbullracing: no you will not.

[ccwpidsblog]

crashing out — onyakopon

⭐️: nsfw 18+ in which you learn why your fiancé retired from his old ways

cupids arrows: if you’re new here pls ignore my old post 🙏🏾

Onyakopon was the chillest man you’d ever met.

You remember the first day you met your fiancé like it was yesterday. Your puppy had slipped her leash and bolted after the two of you got caught in the rain. Mud was everywhere—on her paws, on the soaked sidewalk—and you watched in horror as she ran straight for the tall, dark-skinned man with deep waves and glistening golden grills, his baggy jeans and fresh Dunks standing no chance against the chaos she brought.

The muddy paws left stains all over his jeans, and you were mortified. You snatched her up quickly, firing off apology after apology, even offering to clean his shoes and pants. You were so embarrassed you swear you felt your soul leave your body.

But he just shrugged it off, his low brown eyes soft, paired with a small smile that eased your panic.

“You good,” he said simply, his voice calm and mellow, while you were seconds from collapsing in shame.

That day never left your mind, especially after you somehow ended up in a relationship with the man. Ony was so... nonchalant.

You yapped his ear off from morning until sundown, never running out of things to say, and he never once complained. When you accidentally knocked over his grinder, spilling his entire stash of weed, he didn’t get mad—he just kissed you on the forehead to quiet your babbling apologies. When you bleached his Chrome Hearts hoodie, almost crying over it, he shrugged and said, “It’s just a hoodie. I’ll get a new one.” And he did.

He was a sweetheart through and through. He spoiled you, listened to you, and made you feel like you could do no wrong. Even when he proposed—after three years together—it was the most emotion and the most words you’d ever heard him say all at once.

Most of your love lived in unspoken gestures. A look, a kiss on the temple, his hand resting on your knee when you ranted about your day. You always seemed to read his mind before he had to say anything. And you were okay with it—Ony’s silence spoke volumes.

So when his friends sat around telling wild stories—about your Ony chasing some guy down three blocks for stepping on his shoe—you just blinked, completely dumbfounded.

“That was not my Onya,” you said, shaking your head.

It was one of those late summer days where the air felt heavy with heat and conversation. You and Ony were at one of Sasha’s backyard barbecues—loud music, too much smoke in the air, and way too many faces you didn’t know. You didn’t mind, though. Ony always brought you along, hand warm in yours, whispering low in your ear, “You good, ma. I got you.”

But today, Ony had disappeared somewhere in the crowd. Probably off somewhere smoking a blunt to cool. You didn’t mind. Coco was leashed at your side, her tail wagging as she sniffed around, and you were content grabbing a soda from the cooler, letting the afternoon sun warm your shoulders.

Until you noticed him.

Tall, built like Ony but rougher around the edges. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and something about him set you on edge.

“Cute dog,” he said, nodding at Coco, who barked happily.

“Thanks,” you replied, polite but wary. “She’s a menace, but she’s ours.”

The man chuckled, eyes lingering on you. Too long. “Yours and Ony’s, huh? Never thought I’d see the day Ony got himself all... domesticated.”

You blinked, thrown off by his words. “Yeah. We’re engaged.”

For emphasis, you lifted your hand and showed off the engagement ring sitting proudly on your finger. Ony had picked it out himself, saying something about it being “the only rock that could keep up with you.”

The man’s grin faltered for a second before turning sharp again, something ugly flickering behind his eyes. “Man... Ony really cleaned up. Bet you don’t know half of what he used to be on.”

You shifted your weight, suddenly uncomfortable. “Do you know Ony?”

Before he could answer, you felt it. The shift in the air.

You turned to see Ony stepping up, shoulders squared, jaw tight. His calm, lazy demeanor was gone, replaced with something cold and dangerous.

“Yo,” Ony’s voice was low, sharp like a blade. “What the hell you doin’ here, Ricky?”

The man, Ricky, smirked, completely unfazed. “Relax, bro. Just catching up with your girl. Didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to say hi.”

Ony ignored him and stopped in front of you, his hand gently brushing your elbow, like he needed to feel you there, steady and safe. “You okay?” he murmured, voice softer now.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, searching his face. “Who is—”

“You don’t talk to her,” Ony cut you off, his voice sharper again as he looked back at Ricky. “Ever.”

Ricky barked out a laugh, shaking his head like the whole thing was a joke. “Damn, Ony. You really changed, huh? Wife. Dog. Family barbecues. You think this erases all that sh*t we did? Think it makes you better than me?”

You looked between them, confusion swirling in your chest.

Ricky’s smirk widened. “You ain’t gonna tell her? About Kev?”

The name hit Ony like a physical blow. His whole body went rigid.

“Who’s Kev?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Ricky grinned, ignoring you. “The one who didn’t make it ‘cause we were out there actin’ reckless. But you remember that, huh?”

It happened so fast you gasped. Ony’s fist collided with Ricky’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.

“Ony!” you cried as Coco barked wildly.

The crowd turned, the music seeming to dim as Ony’s voice rang out. “Keep my name out your mouth!”

Ricky spat blood and grinned like he’d won. “Same old Ony.”

Ony let Eren drag him back, but his face was still tight, his body vibrating with rage. He didn’t stop to explain. He just scooped Coco into your arms and pulled you out of the backyard, his hand gripping your waist.

“What the fuck was that, Onyakopon?” you hissed as you reached the car.

“Get in the fuckin’ car,” he snapped.

The tone stunned you into silence. It was the first time in three years Ony had ever raised his voice at you. Before you could argue, he lifted you off your feet, set you in the passenger seat, buckled you in, and slammed the door. 

The ride home was silent, the tension so thick it choked the air. Ony’s jaw was set, teeth gritted as his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. You sat stiff in the passenger seat, arms crossed over your chest as you stared out the window. Even the low hum of the engine felt deafening.

When you got home, the silence followed. Ony unlocked the door, opened it for you like he always did, and set your purse down, but his movements were robotic, like he was on autopilot. You didn’t move—just stood there staring at him.

Finally, you snapped.

“You don’t get to act like nothing happened, Ony!” Your voice trembled with anger, eyes blazing as you threw your hands up. “What the hell was that back there?”

Ony didn’t answer. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the couch, walking straight to the kitchen like he hadn’t heard you.

“Don’t walk away from me!” you shouted, following him. “Don’t you dare—”

“I said it don’t matter!” he barked, whirling around. His voice was sharp and raw, cutting through the air like a blade.

You flinched but stood your ground, refusing to let him shut you out. “How can you say that? That man knew you, Ony. He knew things about you I don’t! And the way you hit him? Who was that?! Because it sure as hell wasn’t the man I know!”

Ony ran a hand down his face, pacing back and forth. “You don’t need to know that part of me.”

“Why?” you shot back, stepping closer, fists clenched at your sides. “Because you’re ashamed? Because you don’t want me to see who you used to be?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, his chest heaving as he looked at you, eyes dark and stormy. “It ain’t like that.”

“Then what is it, Ony?” you pushed, voice trembling. “You can’t stand here and tell me you love me—ask me to marry you—and then keep this huge part of yourself locked away like it doesn’t exist.”

“You don’t get it!” he snapped, voice booming. “I was reckless, alright? I was a dumb kid, running around, doing shit I ain’t proud of. You really wanna hear how bad it got? You really wanna know the kind of man I used to be?” His voice cracked, his fists shaking at his sides. “I ain’t that man anymore. I can’t be.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “I want all of you, Ony,” you whispered fiercely. “Not just the version you think I deserve. I don’t care how ugly it gets. I’m not some fragile thing you need to protect from the truth.”

He froze, shoulders slumping as he stared at you, something breaking behind his eyes. “I’m tryin’, ma,” he said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m tryin’ so damn hard to leave that shit behind. You don’t know what it’s like, carryin’ that with me every day. Losin’ Kev... I don’t ever want to feel that again. I don’t want you to look at me like I’m some monster.”

Your face softened, tears spilling as you stepped closer. “I’m not gonna look at you like that,” you said, your voice shaky but sure. “But I need you to trust me. I need you to stop pushing me away.”

Ony’s gaze flickered to yours, the fight finally draining out of him. He let out a long, unsteady breath and sank down onto one of the kitchen chairs, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice rough. “I’m sorry I scared you back there. I just... when I saw Ricky talking to you, all I could think about was keepin’ you away from that part of my life. Away from him.”

You took a deep breath, the anger still simmering but softened by his words. “I’m not going anywhere, Ony. But you gotta stop keeping me out.”

He looked up at you then, eyes raw and vulnerable. “You deserve better than the mess I used to be.”

You stepped in front of him, taking his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. “You’re not that man anymore,” you said softly. “I see you, Ony. I see who you are now. And I’m here because I love you—all of you.”

His expression cracked, something deep in him finally breaking free. He let out a shuddering breath, his hands sliding up to rest on your waist. “Damn, ma,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Stop saying that.”

Ony’s hands tightened on your waist, his eyes holding yours. “Let me make it up to you,” he said softly, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You blinked at him, breath hitching. “Ony...”

His gaze darkened, the tension between you shifting—charged and electric. Slowly, he stood up, his towering frame forcing you to tilt your chin up to keep looking at him. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so soft it made your knees weak.

“Please,” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky and full of promise. “Let me make it up to you, baby. I got you. Always.”

His hands slid up your sides, slow and deliberate, his touch both gentle and possessive. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he deepened the kiss—soft and tender at first, then hungrier, like he couldn’t get close enough to you.

“Ony,” you breathed, your voice trembling as he kissed down your jaw, his lips trailing warmth along your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your neck, his words punctuated by soft kisses. “For everything. I swear I’m gonna be better. You just gotta let me show you.”

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping his shoulders. “Show me, then.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours. “I will,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “Starting right now.”

And that’s how you found yourself lying back on the bed, your body a tangled mess of need and warmth as your fiancé, lost himself in your ocean. His hands gripped your thighs with a possessive force, pulling them up and against your chest as his tongue worked in ways only he knew how to, bringing you to places you’d only ever reached with him. Every motion was deliberate, skilled—each flick, each touch of his fingers pushing you further, deeper into pleasure. His strength held you in place, leaving you no space to escape the sensations he stirred in you. His mouth, hot and insistent, tasted you, marked you, as if he couldn’t get enough, as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

The pleasure became too much. Your body jerked, squirming away from the relentless skill of Ony’s tongue, but he was quicker, stronger. His grip tightened on your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His large palm landed on the side of your thigh with a sharp smack—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you freeze and gasp.

“Where you think you goin’, mama?” His voice was low, husky, as he leaned up, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. His golden grills caught the light, making him look both dangerous and divine. “Why you runnin’ from me? I’m just tryna apologize.”

Your whine came out incoherent, the words caught in your throat as his dark, smoldering eyes stayed fixed on you. He towered over you now, his body an imposing figure as he crawled over you, caging you beneath him. His breath was hot against your cheek, and you stared up at him, dazed, your vision swimming with glassy tears of overwhelming bliss.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips pulling into that half-smile, wet and sinful. His smooth, dark skin gleamed, catching the dim light in a way that made him almost unreal, too beautiful to belong to one person alone—but he was yours. Completely yours. “So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he praised, brushing a thumb over your cheek to catch a stray tear.

Your body trembled as he shifted, lining himself up with slow precision. Then he pushed into you, your shared groans filling the room as he sank in deep. Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he stretched you perfectly.

“My pretty fuckin’ wife,” he growled against your lips, his voice thick with possession and reverence.

You didn’t have the strength to reply—just a soft moan as your legs locked around his waist, anchoring him to you, letting him take you to where only he could.

The slow, deliberate roll of Ony’s hips sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you trembling beneath him. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “You feel so good, baby. Perfect—just for me.”

You could only moan in response, your hands sliding down his back, nails raking gently across his skin. Every movement he made was precise, deliberate, and meant to unravel you. His pace quickened, his control slipping as he pushed deeper, his grunts mixing with your cries.

“Ony,” you gasped, your voice breaking. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them tighter around his waist, desperate to feel all of him.

“I got you, mama,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Ain’t lettin’ go. You hear me?” His words were both grounding and intoxicating, pulling you further into the bliss he created with every stroke.

The heat built between you, your breaths turning shallow and ragged. Ony’s forehead rested against yours, his dark, hooded eyes never leaving your face. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, his voice deep and low.

Your glazed eyes fluttered open to meet his, and the intensity in his gaze made your chest tighten. “I love you,” he said suddenly, his voice raw, almost breaking.

The words hit you like a tidal wave, a sob catching in your throat. “I love you too,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as your hands cupped his face.

His lips met yours in a searing kiss, his pace growing erratic, matching the desperate beat of your heart. “You’re mine,” he growled against your lips, his movements growing sharper, deeper. “All mine.”

Your body tensed, pleasure coiling tight in your core until it finally snapped, sending shockwaves through you. Your back arched as you cried out his name, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Ony wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, a guttural groan escaping his throat. His body shuddered against yours, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he whispered your name like a prayer.

For a while, neither of you moved, the only sounds in the room your mingled breaths and the faint rustle of the sheets. Ony’s weight was solid and grounding on top of you, his hands still gripping your thighs as though he was afraid to let go.

Finally, he shifted, pressing a gentle kiss to your collarbone before rolling to the side, pulling you with him. He tucked you into his chest, his large hand splaying across your back.

“You good, mama?” he asked softly, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“More than good,” you murmured, your voice still shaky. You tilted your head up to look at him, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his gaze. “I love you, Ony.”

“I love you more,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. He kissed you again, slow and sweet, before resting his forehead against yours.

As your breathing evened out and sleep began to tug at your senses, Ony whispered, “Ain’t nothin’ in this world I wouldn’t do for you, baby. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you replied softly, nuzzling into his chest. “And I’d do the same for you.”

The last thing you felt before drifting off was Ony’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your back, his lips pressing one last lingering kiss to your hair.

[bbrattywise]

SEEKING VALIDATION FROM THE 3D IS SOOOOO LAST SEASON

HEAR YE! HEAR YE! ladies & gents, boys, gals & non-binary pals, i present to you another post brought by urs truly, @bbrattywise : this post was ib: this reddit story

anywho, intros done, let's cut straight to the chase, i think the reason why most ppl struggle with validating themselves from the imagination is we're scared its "lying to ourselves" & its "being delusional" *red buzzer to both answers because those are FAR from right!!*

1) the imagination is REAL, realer than this reality in a sense that whatever u persist in the imagination will quite litreally materialise into ur 3D (because thats litreally how the law of assumption works. You assume in ur imagination/4D and it materialises into the 3D, ya get me??) So no matter what, ur dominant thoughts/assumptions (a.k.a ur dominant thoughts u persisted in ur imagination whether thats being tiktok famous or having ur dream yacht) have no choice but the manifest into the 3D.

2) u not feeling happiness/any sort of positive emotions when visualising/imagining living in end w/ ur desire ≠ it being fake. Because obviously, u having something = u being quite used to it so ofc u are not gonna feel all giddy everytime u think about it. Thats totally normal!! that is the same principle for experiencing "negative emotions". You experiencing any sort of emotion doesn't change the fact that you ALREADY HAVE ur desires in ur imagination, so chillax buttercup! you are not doing anything 'wrong'.

3)"but how do i imagine having my desires?" pls dont overcomplicate yall, i swear its as easy to do as it is to say. Basically pick what u want & acknowledge it being in ur imagination. For example, whenever i be stressing about the 3D i be like "oh yea, i already have it in the imagination which is my true reality" and go about my day. Its as easy as thinking, think as u already have it (because that is quite litreally the case). As Neville Goddard says "creation is finished" which i love falling back to whenever i am in doubt because once you've imagined ur desire, thats it. Thats all you gotta do.

4) find ways to make ur imagination ur fun place. When i started utilising the imagination, i was like "huh, wdym i can litreally imagine WHATEVER?!!" lemme tell u, the imagination is limitless!! It's like playing sims 4 without the restrictions put in place by the developers. You make DA MF RULESSSSSS!! Wanna visualise owning a pet dragon?? the sky's the limit!! its so fun picking things & living out ur imagination knowing that it materialises into the 3D regardless <3

the law of assumption (though a mundane, universal law) is such a beautiful thing to be aware of so utilise this information. Don't dwell in old circumstance because you're scared of change. Trust me, take this leap of faith and really have fun with the law of assumption. After all, its practically a life cheatcode, might aswell use it, right?

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