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#oh to be dancing in the moonlight. ..

thewisestdino · 5 months

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song 10 with twilight sparkle

We like our fun and we never fight You can't dance and stay uptight It's a supernatural delight Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight

#twilight #pinkie pie #my art #mspaint #mlp #my little pony #mlpg4 #twipie #LOVE THIS SONG #oh to be dancing in the moonlight. ..

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astral-athame · 2 months

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What Kind Of "Hot" Are You?

drunk girl in the bathroom hot

you're both wasted, she just somehow does it so much better. you're crying, about something your stupid ex did or said. and suddenly she appears, looking like an angel aside from the slight sway in her step. she's helping you our of your slump on the floor when you grow pale and catastrophy strikes. you're the most disgusting you've ever been, and still, this stranger holds your hair and rubs soothing circles in your back. gives you a breath mint and sits you back against the wall, asking what happened. you tell her, and her glittery, perfectly made face turns sour. with her heels in hand, she loops your arm around her shoulders so she can help you walk to an uber she called for you. your ex says something snarky to you in passing on the way out, and for her it's the final straw. she whirls around, fire in her eyes and a set in her brow and she slaps him hard across the face. calls him a jerk or a dick or something like that, you can't remember, you were busy smiling at the stunned look on his face as she drags you both outside. before you get home, she gives you a hug and kind words in a bubbling voice and you're thankful for her. thankful there are people out there who look out for people like you, who stand up for people even when they might have trouble standing themselves.

Tagged by (stolen from): @southern-belle-outcasts Tagging: Anyone who wants to take it <3

#( what if we rewrite the stars ⋆｡°✩ ) about #((This actually works pretty well for a few reasons:#1) Cass is absolutely that girl who's drunk too but she'll help you out and talk to you and make sure you're comfortable and safe #even if she doesn't know you.#2) As with most people- her inhibitions are lowered when she's drunk. That also means some of the sweetheart act falls away and she's more #free to let out some of that pent up anger that she's so good at hiding; and #3) Sober Cass will stick up for anyone else even if she can't stick up for herself and she will *fight* if it comes to it.#Sober Cass will not initiate a fight though. She'll just scold someone or chew them out with words unless things get physical.#DRUNK Cass though? Oh you can be SURE if someone was being a jerk she'd SLAP THEM. And it that turned into #full on FIST FIGHTING so be it. Should she do that? Probably not. But she's got some self defense training and she will USE IT.#She's small and she's quick and she knows how to use someone's weight against them if need be. She also has a pretty high pain tolerance tb #So she's in no way *guaranteed* to win. She might end up getting the hell beaten out of her #BUT SHE'S GONNA TRY. She might even put someone in their place by doing so. (She won't use her powers tho. She's smarter than that ^^;)#Keep in mind that she'll (drunk) slap someone for being a jerk but she wouldn't really be thinking about the possibility #that it might turn into an actual fight soooo... she's not technically out here trying to start anything.#Just that drunk Cass would slap someone if they deserved it even if that meant accidentally getting into a fight ^^;))#((Tho even drunk Cass won't usually put up much of a fight for HERSELF. She'll let t most things slide if they happen to her.))#( dancing in the moonlight ⋆｡°✩ ) dash games

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haelvetia · 11 months

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i acknowledge that i wish by one direction is just a corny generic pop love song. on the other hand the bridge makes me feel insane so...

#oh how i wish that was me with my hands on your waist while we dance in the moonlight!#i wish it was me that you'll call later on 'cause you wanna say goodnight!#pers

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readymades2002 · 1 year

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i dont know what other retail playlists look like so i don’t know what’s overplayed to other people though really there are very few songs i hear enough to get sick of. fun fact my store has constant craving AND fast car on their soundtrack. HELLO? who can continue to shop or work in peace when fast car comes on. i have to go sit in the bathroom so i can listen to it in quiet with my eyes closed

#im wondering who is hearing landslide though i feel like that one is too somber to get much airtime #but then again like i said i hear fast car every few shifts so i guess my metrics are off?#i dont know. oh that tournament is making me so cross. im just going to listen to dancing in the moonlight

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starlightnavis · 1 year

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the P3D soundtrack is on spotify now!!!

in case you hadn't seen the news, they have finally put the soundtrack on spotify so now we can listen to all the epic remixes jashkasdh here u go!! also it's a shame iwatodai dorm wasn't remixed for P3D but oh well akhkdh i'll just vibe to the regular version

#persona 3 #persona 3 dancing in moonlight #video game music #currently vibing to the paulownia mall music #*dances* hell yeah #p3 has some epic music honestly #like im not very into rap but iwatodai dorm is just so good #wish it was included in p3d... but oh well #squishy rambles

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forsworned · 10 days

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IT'S (NOT) JUST SEX ft. SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

Warning(s): Sexual Content, AFAB!reader, (Sorta) Daddy Issues, Half&Half Proofread idk

Author's note: Guess I'm drowning in Simon right now, I just have so many ideas for him and honestly this is not original but fuck it I think it's cute mwah

"It's just sex."

But he's literally paying attention to every staccato of your moans, as he angles his hips perfectly to hit your sweet spot every fucking time. The way you arch your back, and your whimpers are elongating with every stroke, adding just the right amount of pressure to have you cumming all over his dick. And he doesn't even care if he's finishing anymore, as long as you're getting yours he's more than satisfied enough. And he's definitely not flipping you over on your back every time without fail just to see your pretty "o" face.

"It's just sex."

But he's waking up before you with your coffee exactly the way you like it, down to the milk preference, brand and roast. Your eggs perfectly fried, and a tender kiss to your temple asking you,

"How'd ya sleep, love?"

"It's just sex."

But he's always fixing your hair when it's out of place, the collar of your shirt when it's tucked in incorrectly and making sure he's holding your hand when you're crossing the street together.

"It's just sex."

But he's talking you down over the phone when you get into a catastrophic argument with your dad and moments later he's showing up at your door with your favorite snacks and beverages. His arms are enveloping you in the most snug bear hug, kissing your temple and rubbing your back while you cry it out. And then you're watching reruns of your favorite tv show and until you're passed out in his arms.

"It's just sex."

But he's letting you in. You're seeing all the sides of him that he never shows to anyone else. The scars under his mask, the way his lips curve up into a smile when you're doing you're little dance to oldies on the radio, and the genuine, hearty chuckle that effortlessly escapes his now loosened sternum.

"It's just sex."

But then you're under the steamy water coming out of his showerhead, as he sings in his off-key baritone while he suds up his loofa to clean you up after he fucked your brains out on his loveseat. Memorizing every mole, stretchmark, and crease in your skin as he's exfoliating your pretty skin.

But,

It's not just sex.

Because he's sitting there on the sofa, wondering how the fuck he ended up with the prettiest, vintage engagement ring you pointed out when you two were antiquing (antiquing? he doesn't bloody go antiquing) between his stout, scarred fingers, glittering in the moonlight and all.

"Si?"

He turns from the ring to the most stunning woman that's ever graced his miserable presence, leaning against the doorframe with his shirt hanging loosely over her thighs, hair disheveled in the cutest way humanly possible. Her playful smile etching into her dulcet features as she sucks in her bottom lip. Oh yeah, she's a fuckin' stunner.

"Are you coming back to bed?"

His eyes visibly softening as he drinks you in.

"Ya, dovie, I'll be right there." He murmurs, licking his dry lips, and you're already padding back to his room, making sure you sway your hips provocatively. That causes his lips to kick up into a genuine smile and a chuckle to escape his chest. And then he's up, carefully putting away the precious metal in a false bottom drawer under the utensils, and then he's jovially treading back to you. Face first into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, natural musk. He could bathe in this shit.

Fingers carding through his hair and he's oblivious to the knowing smirk on your sly face. That fucker thinks he's so slick.

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 2 years

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Cinderella rewrite where Cinderella’s father is an unusually successful fisherman due to his secret friendships with the shy and mysterious mermaids, successful enough to attract a moderately wealthy and ambitious bride with two daughters. Once he dies, her stepmother, determined to make sure her daughters inherit the fishing business as dowries by marrying before Cinderella, forbids her from going out on the fishing boats or into town and makes sure she spends as much of her time as possible doing drudgework, hauling offal and cleaning fish. When the Prince’s ball comes around, an important occasion for young women to make good connections, the stepmother forbids her from going, telling her that she needs to get the latest salmon catch gutted and ready for sale instead.

Cinderella’s mermaid godmother calls upon her people to clean the fish and gifts her a dress and shoes of shimmering fish scales that wreathe her in rainbows under the moonlight. She makes an impression on the Prince at the ball so strong that he immediately falls in love with her, and when she’s forced to flee before her stepmother notices her (no masquerade mask or dancing rainbows will disguise her from her own family at close range), the Prince is left with only a delicate fish leather slipper left on the front steps to try to find her again.

He goes around the houses, seeking the owner of the slipper, but Cinderella is once again working in the fish sheds. He stepmother, desperate and determined and having found Cinderella’s other shoe that very morning, realises what has happened and takes a knife to the feet of her prettiest daughter, telling the prince that she suffered an injury that very morning but those are definitely her shoes, see, here’s the other one, and they still fit.

The daughter is pretty and witty and charming, and while the Prince doesn’t feel the same spark and instant sense of connection that he did at the party, he reasons that she’s overwhelmed and in pain and once she’s healed, all will be well. There are no birds to whisper of blood in the shoe -- the Prince has seen the bandaged feet already -- and the daughter slips on the shoes (the only shoes she has that will fit her, now,) and accompanies him to the palace.

But the stepmother is no doctor, and by the time the Prince gets her to the palace doctors, it’s too late -- his beloved has contracted an infection in her feet from the shoe leather, made unclean in its travels. She will survive -- it is an infection of a common filth of fish and birds, one that the doctors have potions for for the occasions where dangerously cooked food causes outbreaks -- but in her raving, she confesses the whole scheme to the Prince who, furious, returns to the village to find the girl he truly fell in love with, the girl hidden from him.

“Oh, yeah, the fish cleaner,” the villagers shrug. “We don’t see her around very much, she’s probably in the sheds. Her family calls her Salmonella.”

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qingxin-dream · 8 months

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“Moonlight Showing”

summary | lyney whisks you away after his performance, wanting to make the most of his last night with his secret lover for awhile. (art credits: @/kiyonvmi on twitter).

warnings | profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], female-bodied reader, exhibitionism/public sex (creampie), a sprinkle of dominance, breeding, honestly fairly vanilla otherwise bc lyney is such a sweetheart, lyney speaks a little french

genre | smut

word count | 1.6k

pairing | lyney x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Long after the crowd had dispersed from the picturesque Opera Epiclese at the close of Lyney and Lynette’s show, the beautiful gardens lie vacant under the moon’s silvery gaze. All the guests and staff had long taken the aqua-bus back to the Court of Fontaine to return home. There was not a soul in sight at this late hour.

However, even as the city sleeps, Coppelius and Coppelia—a mechanical wonder gifted to the Opera by the Fontaine Research Institute—continue their romantic dance in the courtyard. They never failed to captivate any audience as the reflective metal of the star-crossed lovers glimmered under sun or moon, rain or shine.

Atop the many steps leading down to the outdoor stage is a hand-carved throne of stone hidden behind the cypress trees encircling the scene. From afar perhaps it appears that there are indeed still two people lingering from the night’s magical performance, sitting together to admire the lovely dance.

To any innocent passersby, the sight was undoubtedly endearing and romantic. There’s nothing quite like the rush of young love. It was a good thing no one was here to bear witness; and even better that your lover was so cunning and clever, choosing such a secluded spot to have you in his lap.

Lyney’s gloved hands gripped the curve of your waist firmly, the pads of his fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he sinks your hips back down onto his hardened cock with a soft grunt of pleasure. You were forced to hold onto the cool armrests of the throne to keep yourself steady, the unexpectedly cold surface causing your walls to spasm and flutter around him. Groaning lewdly in your ear, Lyney was practically hypnotized by the way the white ring of your essence coated the base of his cock.

Your poor little legs were shaking. You couldn’t count how many times Lyney had made you cum, and yet he was utterly insatiable tonight. The erotic mixture of your fluids lubricated every inch of cock nicely. His smug, seductive laughter was a beautiful soft melody in your ears as the magician teased the tip of his length at your entrance, watching the nuances of your orgasmic expression once more.

With the ends of your sexy little red dress lifted up in his right fist, his other hand smacked your ass loudly. “You wore this on purpose, didn’t you, mon amour?”

A bratty whine rumbled in your throat as he forced you to continue fucking yourself on his throbbing length. You couldn’t possibly muster up a coherent response in your cockdrunk state. Cute little pants adorned the sound of your sex slapping onto his pelvis lightly smeared with your juices.

Lyney yanked you back by the hip to bury his needy cock into you, abruptly pulling the front of your dress down so your breasts spilled out into the open air. He loved feeling the enticing, malleable flesh between his fingers, occasionally pinching your adorable nipples to earn a sweet little moan out of you.

“Oh, fuck,” he murmured from behind, taking his thumb under the string of your lacy thong to get an unobstructed view of how your slutty hole gripped and swallowed his cock over and over. Lyney’s voice was deep and honeyed, enough to have you whimpering under your breath in anticipation. “Don’t you cream on my tights now. You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, (Y/N).”

“Mm, mhmm,” you nod obediently, focusing intensely on the sensation of his cock continuously stretching your walls in the most delicious rhythm. You swear he must have memorized the exact spot that drove you wild. “Y-you fuck me… so good…”

“Mon amour, please, you’re doing all the work,” Lyney’s voice resounds lowly into the shell of your ear, smug and soft as velvet. He leans into your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. A seductive giggle warms your shoulder and sends shivers prickling down your spine. “Why don’t you let me work my magic, hm?”

You settle yourself completely onto his pretty cock, resting your back gently against his chest. Lyney continues to encourage you with sweet nothings, distracting you with his words of praise while gloved fingers cup underneath your plush thighs and spread your legs. He gently guides your legs apart to set your calves onto the cool armrests on either side of you.

You hear him draw in a sharp breath as your spongy walls suddenly tighten again. “Are you trying to milk me dry, mon cœur?”

“I’m sorry. C-can’t help it,” you mumble, practically a whimper as this position has your cunt clenching down and damn near feeling every curve and contour as Lyney’s cock angles into you from underneath.

He smirked, presenting the pink petals of your wet flower long decorated in cum to the empty gardens of the Opera Epiclese. Though it was just the two of you and the mechanical dancers below, the mere thought of anyone catching a glimpse of how his thick cock split you open was beyond thrilling to Lyney. Call it a showman’s pride in his performance.

And for Archon’s sake, every little bit of movement had you rolling your head back with a litany of soft-spoken profanities and prayers leaving your lips. Yet you found yourself curious, leaning forward slightly, mesmerized by the way he stuffed you nice and tight.

Lyney chuckled, always one to study and revel in his audience’s wonder, and even more so with his secret lover. He drank you in like fine wine, pupils dilating and swirling with endless pool of desire as you struggled to take him like this.

“Give me your fingers, ma chérie,” he asks, though his tone is surprisingly firm. It wasn’t really a question. You reached around your shoulder to offer him a shaky hand, your breath catching as something hot and wet envelopes your index and middle finger. “Touch yourself.”

Heat flushed your cheeks as Lyney’s warm saliva drips from your digits. Parting your folds, you liberally massaged in circles around your clit, already a bit swollen and puffy from your previous lovemaking sessions on the throne. You curse under your breath between moans, reaching further down to trace your fingers at the bottom of his cock and marvel at the way he disappears inside of you.

The magician groans faintly, the brush of your fingers leaving him extra sensitive as you grind your hips into him. His words come out as a desperate whisper in the night air, a plea only your delicate ears are privy to. “H-hah, fuck, it’s so perfect… ‘n’ made for me.”

Lyney’s hands trail down your sides lovingly, making sure you’re well adjusted to his length in this unique position. In the wake of his fleeting touch, he plants featherlight kisses wherever possible on your spine. He presses a final chaste kiss on your shoulder blade before leaning back, cupping the bottom of your thighs to support you.

“Call my name, mon cœur, that’s all I ask,” he groans, thrusting his cock fully into your dripping hole. You cry out, gasping as his tip reaches the deepest part of you and rubs against every lovely ridge of your walls. Lyney hushes your loud moan, not to deter you but rather to comfort you.

Caressing the innermost parts of your thigh, the magician effortlessly holds you from underneath to help you relax around his cock. He can see your back muscles loosen up, and he whispers to you, “Look up—look at the moon—she’s our spotlight, yeah?”

“Keep your pretty eyes on the heavens. I promise I’ll take you there,” Lyney coos, the timbre of his voice laced with longing. You were hopelessly ensnared in his web of passion and temptation, more than willing to submit to his saccharine words and whims. He smiled, praising you as your eyes drifted up to the full moon. “Je t'aime.”

Just as your reply was on the tip of your tongue, the magician squeezed the bottom of your thighs and finally bucked his hips up ruthlessly into your cunt. Despite how much Lyney prepared you for this position, he still stole your breath away. It was all you could do to meet the intensity of his thrusts. “L-Lyney…! Oh my god, fuck… keep going, p-please…”

Your orgasm was already stirring in the depths of your pelvis with Lyney pounding against your G-spot repeatedly without fail. His grip on the flesh of your hips became possessive, a low growl following his rapid thrusts. “Did I say to stop touching yourself? I want you a fucking mess on my cock.”

Apologies weren’t what he wanted. This was the final act of the night before you were to be separated for Archons knows how long. Lyney wasn’t about to waste this precious time without giving you the moon, the stars, and the whole damn universe—rocketing you to your climax after you fingers messily flitted across your clit.

“Lyney! I’m cumming, a-ah!” you nearly screamed in pure ecstasy and amazement, your legs quaking and threatening to collapse onto him. Waves upon waves of pleasure wash over you. You couldn’t believe how he relentlessly fucked your release into your sopping pussy, utterly blissed out and wishing for his seed like a whore.

Coaching you through your strongest orgasm yet, he exhales heavily and clutches you tightly, “That’s it, that’s it. Yeah… Sing for me, mon amour. You feel so, so good.”

Just as your climax reached its crescendo, Lyney’s cock twitched inside you and dribbled cum out of your abused hole when he pulled out. His fingers were buried into your skin, certainly enough to leave a bruise on your hips in the morning. Even though the magician was exhausted after the night’s worth of lovemaking, he spun you around and captured your lips softly—wanting to taste your post-orgasmic pants for air.

“It’s a shame,” Lyney chuckled warmly into your mouth, seemingly unable to detach himself from your decadent lips. “I really liked this dress on you.”