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#i just wanna feel included

asliceofzosan · 5 months

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i've seen figure skater sanji and hockey player zoro before. idk if its been explored but i'd love to put it out there:

hockey player sanji (specifically goalie bc he desperately wants to avoid being checked) and then pairs skater zoro.

pairs skater zoro's long time partner has been nami. though many people ship them together a Lot, they just know each other super well. Well enough to try dating and both of them realized they don't swing that way. in fact, it makes them a really good team. they fought long and hard to claim top spots in competitions because they portray a chemistry that's separate from the rest. plus zoro can carry nami like she weighs fucking nothing. so their lifts are so much more dynamic. they even have a whole next to impossible combination that they're trying to get the ISU to name after them officially.

sanji plays for the East Blue Straw Hats in the Grand Line Hockey League – a formidable rookie group that took down lots of big names in the preseason. they want to make it all the way to the postseason playoff finals but always seem to fall short. but theyre so determined. they reignited a lot of old sparks that were no longer there for old fans and brought in new and curious fans. sanji is the starter goalie and a damn good one at that. it makes sense bc goalies are often doing splits on the ice just to make a save. he's perfected the technique that utilizes just his legs to make saves that make the crowd go fuckin insane.

we have the usual "i booked the rink to practice before you did" trope but a little more spice. in actuality, sanji loves watching pairs skating competitions. his favorite pair rn is franky and robin (mostly for robin). and he adamantly does not want to admit to anyone that he watches zoro and nami's routines much more frequently. (and if anyone asks, he always says its bc of nami. its never just bc of nami.) and zoro's besties with luffy so he always watches their matches even if he barely understands the rules. and he definitely does not stare at a certain blond starter goalie most of the match thats fucking ridiculous

one day zoro and sanji are invited to do one of those comparison videos between hockey players and figure skaters. both get to laugh at the other even Attempting to do their sport. zoro frankly looks ridiculous in all of sanji's usual goalie get-up. and sanji couldn't land an euler to save his life. the video producer suggests they try a simple pairs skating routine. sanji is like "oh i couldn't do that–hEY WHAT THE FUCK MOSSHEAD PUT ME DOWN" because zoro lifted sanji and had him sat on his shoulder like it was normal.

zoro smirks, "you might be lighter than nami, actually. wanna be my new partner?"

sanji knees him in the stomach before skating away while blushing so hard he could melt the ice beneath him.

#listen #both figure skating (most especially pairs skating and ice dancing) AND hockey were my hyperfixations at one point #and zoro? built like a pairs skating man #sanji? has the ass of a hockey player #iT MAKES SENSE TO ME !#but also the dichotomy of zoro doing a graceful sport and sanji in a fast paced brutal game #idk man im too tired to psychoanalyze why i think pairs skating actually works well with zoro's philosophy on strength and balance #and sanji's phobia of being checked tied to many little league games that led him to become a formidable goalie #i COULD GO ON #But i will sleep instead #one piece #sanji #roronoa zoro #zosan #niki's log: op #niki's fics: checks and balances #dO YOU GET THE PUN IN THE TITLE GOD IM SO ANNOYING !!!!!#lowkey my contribution to zosan week even if it might not fit any promprs #i just wanna feel included

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harrysmimi · 1 year

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Can any insta blurb writers use a brown person as a face claim??? 😭

#mimi talks #i just wanna feel included

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wildtalon8 · 1 year

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I’m off tumblr for a few days and y’all made a false film without me??

I mean i wouldn’t have contributed or anything but..

#i just wanna feel included #goncharov #i was sick

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ghouljams · 8 months

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thinking about cowboy ghost babies..... ghoul loml write whatever you want about those two ill read and reread it idgaf

chubby ghost babies....

(my cousin gave birth like 3 weeks ago and its still giving me baby fever.)

The biggest babiessss, I love thinking about Ghost's sausage-y babies. When the man said he wanted to have stupid fat babies with Goose he meant it, those babies are so chubby. Here's some baby fic.

You push Simon's legs out of the way as you sit on the couch. He's made himself comfy laid out over the length of it, your daughter is settled against his chest, sleeping just like her daddy. You don't think the baby has touched the ground once since she was born, someone is always holding her. You've even had to sway Simon away from co-sleeping, something that clearly hasn't taken.

You reach to tickle your fingers against the baby's back, she hardly squirms at the touch. Simon cracks on of his eyes open at the slightest twitch, settles a big hand over her back to keep her quiet. Already a daddy's girl, you think.

"Having a good nap?" you grin, watching Simon shift to make a sliver of room for you. You eagerly squish yourself between him and the back of the couch. His arm wraps around you, keeping you held impossibly close. His whole world in his arms.

"Just got a lot better," he mumbles, letting out a quiet huff as you make yourself comfortable. You pinch her chubby arm, feeling Simon shift to kiss the top of your head. She looks like a balloon animal, like a sausage shaped like a baby. It’s adorable. She's the prettiest little thing you've ever seen, so soft and sweet you can't believe she came from you.

You watch her yawn, little nose pinching in a way that makes you want to pop out a million more of her. Simon hums, strokes her cheek with a gentle finger. Even with as big as your baby is, she's still tiny compared to her father. Something you know makes Simon anxious, such a little thing under his protective care. You can't help feeling something similar.

Babies are so fragile. You worry over every little sniffle and sneeze, every scrunch faced cry, even things she hasn't done yet. She can't even roll over but you find yourself worrying about her walking.

"Do you think we're good parents?" You whisper ask. Simon lets out a big breath, you can feel the rise and fall of it, see the way it moves the baby on his chest.

"Fuck no," he grumbles, "you use murder ballads as lullabies."

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost x reader #ghost x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley x reader #simon riley #x oc #oc: goose #baby is named Mary but ends up getting affectionately nicknamed frog #yeah i'll just give yall that #i feel like im never gonna finish this fic #i have a million things i wanna include in it #cowboy!ghost

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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months

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OH SAY LESS 14 WITH ASTARION PLEASE

so this is my first time publicly writing and posting astarion, so please be gentle. higher word count solely because i felt the need to add lore because, ya know, first time writing him! also, i changed the line just a tiny bit to better fit the character and scene. ALSO, uh... this is a little fade to black. i'm sorry. it just got too long.

14. "Oh, you're hard to please."

warnings: foreplay, sorta fade to black smut (it's there if you squint your eyes), an ungodly amount of pet names, mentions of past sexual abuse and healing from it, technical game spoilers, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact

pairings: astarion x afab!reader (no pronouns used)

wc: 4.4k+

join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character

How long had it been since Astarion had actually enjoyed sex? Craved it, even?

If he recalls correctly, it had to have started to become tainted well over a century ago. Somewhere between the first and the third victim, when he’d realized how every single beautiful soul he had entrapped were simply being lured to their own death. And then, the sour taste left in his mouth only became more pungent the longer it went on, the more he came to the realization of just how used he felt. His body was no longer his own – it technically hadn’t been his from the very second he’d emerged from his own grave, and Cazador had been waiting for him – and everything about the act became an old rehearsed dance that he’d grit his teeth through. A chore, something to make his stomach churn, something to regret. A means to an end.

Plainly put, it had been a while.

But then you happened. You, who hadn’t blinked an eye when the first time you met him, he’d literally threatened you with a gods damned blade to your throat. You, who had repeatedly trusted him, even when it had been an objectively stupid thing to do. You, who had always offered him the utmost patience and genuine understanding, to the point in which if he thought about it too hard, he’d probably cry. You, who had led your group of misfits with brain worms right into victory, with plenty of personal demons defeated along the way.

Personal demons including Cazador.

Maybe that’s when things changed for Astarion. He’d already fallen for you before your group had reached Baldur’s Gate, he’d already gotten to know your body intimately before ever laying eyes on that ridiculously oversized brain you somehow made look easy to defeat. But that had been different, hadn’t it? He hadn’t really wanted to do that (not meant as an offense to you – certainly not after all was said and done), but had thought he needed to. To gain your trust, to gain your protection. And in the end, it turned out he never needed to do such a thing. You’d never said it outloud, probably at risk of making him feel even more regret after you’d learned all his secrets and darkest corners, but he knew.

And knowing that you didn’t view him as something purely sexual, as a means to an end, as an item to use – well, it had the opposite effect of his request to no longer be viewed in that light.

“What are you doing?” he says as he quickly looks up from his current book he’d been pursuing the moment you’d entered the room. He hardly cared for the words on the page – he just needed a way to pass the hours until you were available again.

It was a hard habit to kick. Being so codependent on you, even with the end of the world resolved and the gift of safety being handed over to him on a silver platter.

“We received mail,” you’re grinning wickedly as you hold up an embellished envelope, delicate fingers pinching the parchment as if it were the greatest gift to ever exist. He’d argue the real gift at hand was the last three months – time spent with you, in a place he can call home. But nothing could impede on your good mood as you throw yourself down on the mattress beside him, “From Withers, of all people!”

His brows shoot up for just a moment before his face twists up with something akin to distrust, “Withers? What in the Hells does that sack of dust and bones wan-”

“A reunion,” you cut him off, the look on your face warning enough against his attempt at an insult. “He’s reaching out to all of us to bring us together for a celebration, to check in on everyone, let us see each other again. Apparently, we were the easiest of the bunch to find.”

Astarion quickly lets out a tut as he snaps the book shut and discards it on the bedside table closest to him, “Well, we certainly need to fix that. Soon enough all of those little shits are going to end up on our doorstep, preaching about the power of friendship and how they want to check in on us.”

You snort at that, laying flat on your back with your hair wildly spread out in a makeshift halo behind you. The sight causes something to stir within him, his gut twisting as he watches the way your knees knock together before slowly falling apart, your legs settling down as flat as the rest of your body.

He hadn’t taken you since that night at his grave. Before the epic final battle, before the two of you had made the decision to settle down somewhere for some well-earned peace and quiet.

The moonlight dances past the open curtains, and his breath catches in his throat at the way the blue shadows dance across your skin. It almost reminds him of the first time he’d seen you fight. It hadn’t just been the blood splattered across your cheeks that had really gotten the better of his curiosity (even if that’s what he had told you when you asked), it had been the sunlight. Those rays of gold that had mingled with your own aura of warmth after you had helped the tieflings for the first time.

You put the sun to shame, truly. And he missed it – Gods, did he miss it – but he was content to bask in the peace of night for a few months more before he finally cut you loose from the leash to begin your next phase of adventures to find him a cure. You had promised him you would, had already dedicated plenty of free time to research, and all you really needed was his word to begin.

He’s selfish. The two of you can find a way for him to walk in the sun once more another day; all he wants right now is to bury himself in your warmth, to slot his body between your thighs, to hear every breathy gasp and the way you’d practically sing his name-

“Star?” you’re looking up at him from an awkward angle, eyes owlish and chin tilted painfully far back as you clearly await an answer to a question he’d been too lost in a daydream to overhear, “Did you hear me?”

He clears his throat and adjusts the pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up as he admires you, “Of course I did, darling.”

“Then what did I just say?”

“Something about how we’re absolutely not going to this reunion, yes?”

Your smile is nothing but patient as you flip onto your stomach. He watches the way your shorts ride up your thighs, how the top of the soft fabric bunches at your waist. His fingers practically twitch with the need to weasel their way under it, to press his cold fingertips into warm flesh and hear you preen.

Whenever you’re ready, you had whispered to him one night shortly after saving the world. Just tell me when, and I’m yours.

He was ready. Insatiably ready, really.

“Very funny. I said we should go, though. It’d be nice to see everyone again, wouldn’t it? All our friends?”

You’re still talking about this damned reunion. Astarion has half the mind to figure out a way to summon the insufferable skeleton right here, right now, and drive a dagger into his bones until he’s truly nothing but dust. Solely for the distraction.

“Your friends, my dear,” he corrects gently, “We both know they’re only overly fond of one of us in this relationship, and it certainly isn’t the one that they repeatedly threatened to stake.”

The furrow of your brows is impossibly cute – he knows that look of determination. It’s the same one you wore when he mentioned it was likely that the two of you would never find a cure to his condition.

“Our friends,” you insist, “Karlach adores you, Star. And Wyll has always been proud of you, whether he told you as much or not.”

“And what of Gale?”

Your lips twitch at that, “Gale… certainly wouldn’t stake you on sight.”

“Ah, yes,” he flourishes, trying to keep his eyes from wandering anywhere but where your hands press into your cheeks as you prop your face up to speak to him, “Not staking me. The ultimate sign of kinship.”

Focusing is a losing battle when you roll your eyes, and he finds his mind overtaken with insatiable lust again. Imaginative ways that he could have your eyes rolling for him under different circumstances.

“You’re not getting out of this. They are your friends just as well as mine – so argue all you want, but we’re going to the reunion.”

“Are you sure there’s no other way I might be able to…” he pauses with intent, finally lifting one of his docile hands to your cheek, letting his finger graze the skin with a feather light touch before it travels back into the mess of your hair, “Persuade you otherwise?”

You almost fall for it, too. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tilts into his touch as if you were starved for the connection. But even with the lack of sexual intimacy, you both know there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last three months where Astarion hasn’t found a way to get his hands on you.

Holding your own, resting his cheek on your shoulder, spinning you like a child in the kitchen – he had quite the sudden arsenal of romantic gestures that didn’t involve old wounds. It had been awkward here and there, some of them landing and some of them leaving you both looking like fools, but he was trying.

Almost as hard as he was currently trying to not jump your bones.

When you recognize the innuendo for what it is, however, you harden immediately. Your shoulders set, a frown settles, and your eyes open with set determination he knows he can’t falter without speaking plainly to you.

“No.”

“No?”

You’re quick to lift yourself up onto your knees, putting distance between yourself and his hands, “The days of weaponizing sex are over. I don’t even want to joke about that.”

And, oh, he’s finding himself in quite the mood tonight, because as soon as you’re retracting, he’s following. As you settle on the haunches of your calves, he’s lifting up from his reclined position, leaning forward so that his face is breaths away from yours.

“I mean it,” you warn, narrowing your eyes and holding up a finger in that small space between you two.

He tests his luck, wasting no time in snapping his fangs just millimeters from your skin. You both know he wouldn’t actually bite you, but it still humors him to see the way you whip your hand out of his reach.

“Were you not the one who insisted that we ask before we bite?” you snap, and his smile only worsens. Like a cheshire cat, like a child never scorned by the world – he’s radiant and basking in the moment.

He lets out a small hmph before saying, “You’re no fun, my dear. Come on – just play with me for a moment, won’t you?”

Your face softens at his teasing tone, and he can see the way he’s withering away your defenses one by one. There was once a time where he’d done it with malicious intent, but this time around, it’s with nothing but good intentions.

If you asked him, he’d go as far as to swear it on his own grave.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as if you’d done something wrong, and it makes more than half of his own playfulness drain from his face in absolute displeasure. Before he can so much as open his mouth to scold you about unnecessary apologies, you’re continuing on, “I just… After everything we’ve been through, it’s not something I find particularly joyous to joke about.”

What a rare thing, to have found someone to bare your soul and all your burdens to, and watch them offer to help you shoulder the weight without second thought or regret.

He’s never met someone like you in all his years, and he might never again.

“And if I told you I wasn’t joking?” he asks slowly, carefully, trying to choose each word with the utmost care, “I’m not weaponizing – I’m offering.”

Whenever you’re ready. Just tell me when, and I’m yours.

He was ready. Very, desperately, sorely ready.

The topic of the reunion is all but forgotten as you process his words, nose twitching as you decipher all that’s he laying out before you. “I want more than an offer.”

“Excuse me?”

He can’t help the small laugh that leaves him as he sits up properly, leaning into your space fully now with one hand pressing into the mattress just beside one of your thighs. He can feel the heat radiating from you, smell your blood rushing to your head as you try to be sensible. It’s a pitiful excuse for an internal war; all he has to do is close that conveniently small distance between your lips with his own, and you’ll have lost all sense of logic.

“You’re…” you trail off, searching his eyes as if he holds the answer you’re currently looking for, “You’re sacred to me, Astarion. You must know that. And it will take much more than some joking offer to convince me to have sex with you when I know-”

“I’m not joking,” he’s nearly whining, letting his forehead fall forward to press to yours, “Gods, I am not joking about this. Cross my heart and hope to die again.”

If he has to beg, he will.

He’s spent two hundred years in an insufferable position of pure misery, pure shit, and the realization that he’s finally free has everything clicking into place. Proof of the change exists solely in the fact that he could have resorted to his tired old seduction routine from his life before to get what he wanted, but instead, he’s trying to just communicate.

It was a novel moment.

But he could appreciate it later, when the crotch of his pants wasn’t becoming increasingly uncomfortably tight and he wasn’t watching you closer than prey. When his stomach wasn’t so tight with desire and anticipation, just waiting for your word to indulge.

“Do I need to beg?” he sighs, his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly from proximity. He catches the shiver that runs up your spine. “We both know I’m not particularly fond of it, but if I have to get on my knees for you- well, actually, that’s the entire point of what I’m asking.”

You laugh at that, and his gut twists again, because it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever had the opportunity to hear. Something more breath than any vocality, something sharp and spelling out the loss of words on your tongue.

Your silence is enough for him to push it all a step further. Forehead still leaning against yours, he properly presses his lips to yours this time, slotting them between softer than a feather’s caress. Finding home as he can physically feel himself steal your breath away. His fangs just barely nip your bottom lip, unintentionally but still eliciting a delicious reaction of a gasp that makes him graze you a second time just to feel the way you’re leaning into him more, becoming absolute putty in his hands. Pliable for his taking, and Gods, he wants to take you.

Something snaps.

All hesitation has vanished as he grabs at your hips quickly, making use of the way your brain has gone blank from a simple kiss in order to lay you out below him. He moves you with ease, incredible speed in slotting himself between your legs before he’s caging your entire body in with his own. The squeak that leaves your lips from his manhandling affects him even more than your gasps had, a low growl shaking his chest as he kisses you deeper. Tasting, begging, searching – he wants this, but he needs to know that you want this just as badly.

Your hands find purchase on each of his shoulders, squeezing tightly as if needing something to tether yourself to. You pull him in closer for a second, eagerly returning the kiss, almost feverish in the way you drink him in. But the next, you’re pushing him away, a game of want and sensibility still clouding your judgment impossibly.

You always were stubborn about things like morals. And, well, it wasn’t very moral to just jump right into sex with your traumatized boyfriend who had explicitly said not to view him in terms of sex, was it?

It was Astarion’s own damn fault.

He could have just acted like a normal person, initiated a normal conversation in which he renegotiated his boundaries. But you’ve been on his mind all day, and he’s long since proven since the very day that you met him that he has little to none impulse control.

“My, my,” he murmurs, pulling back from the kiss, eyes wild, looking at you with even more hunger than he had the first night you’d given him a taste of your blood in camp, “You’re just an impossible thing to please, aren’t you? Do you want me near, do you want me far? Tell me, my love, what do you want?”

He settles all his weight onto one of his forearms as the other slowly brings his hand to your side, caressing over the soft fabric of your shirt – a shirt he’s quickly realizing is actually his own. He recognizes those flowy sleeves, that lacing across the chest, the off-white tone that had seen better days. Given all its wear and tear, he’s almost sure that it’s one of his shirts he had grown most comfortable wearing during the nights of your adventures against the Netherbrain.

It’s cute. A sort of domesticity that he can ponder over later, when your legs aren’t hanging on his hips and your breaths aren’t coming out staccato as he hovers just out of reach from you.

“I want whatever you want,” you whisper. Your eyes flutter open, looking at him with pupils so dilated they could swallow him whole.

“Let me be very clear, then,” he hums, cold fingers creeping their way to the hem of the shirt, slipping beneath with practiced ease to find the smooth skin of your hips below. They dance and skitter up, up, up until he’s brushing against your ribs, “I want you. I want that warm cunt of yours, I want to feel every gasp and breath as your walls squeeze around me. I want to fuck you until you’re unable to walk on your own two legs, until you can only remember my name. I want to watch you come undone, my dear, and for it to be my own undoing.”

Your lips quiver in anticipation, and he feels your thighs tighten their hold on him, “Such pretty words. And… and no ulterior motives? No sense of obligation?”

“None at all,” he smiles, a predator closing in on his prey, “I’m choosing this. If you want it, if you’ll have me, then I’m ready, pet.”

Pet. The nickname rolls off his tongue, and he can imagine your walls fluttering just as your eyes do.

Your hands lift from his shoulders to bury in his hair instead. One cradling the back of his head, the other resting on the nape of his neck as you toy with a snowy curl. It unfurls him further, has him humming lowly as he dips down to recapture your lips and bring you into him even closer. Closer. He needs all and any space between the two of you to become nonexistent. To feel every inch of your skin pressed to his, to allow you to physically curl up into his chest just as you had his mind all those moons ago, to make a home in a room with your name on it already somewhere between his third and fourth rib.

“Do you really have to doubt if I’ll have you, my love?” you mutter against his mouth, smile breaking the kiss momentarily before he’s back with a vengeance. You don’t care – you’re apparently in a chatty mood, dodging his kiss to get your last words in, “There’s been a space in my heart for you since the moment I first met yo-”

“Yes, yes, very romantic,” he interrupts urgently, suddenly tugging your shirt up, “But, truth be told, love? I’m hoping there’s a space between your legs for me at this moment.”

You snort, eyes pinched shut as you attempt to shake your head at the ridiculousness of the words that just left his mouth. At any other moment, you might point out how the outrageous comment is just another defense mechanism, veering him away from having to acknowledge the gentle sentiment behind your own words, but now’s not the time. When you open your mouth, probably to say something exactly along those lines, he rolls his hips down against yours, pinning your lower half deep into the mattress. You feel just how hard he is through his trousers – it’s impossible to miss, but he’s deliberating being sure that you feel it as he lets the tips of his fangs sink into your bottom lip.

The resolve of fighting against his wishes is quickly dissolved. One thing after another, and Astarion has you bare beneath him before any other distractions or annoying conversation can send the two of you further off track. Your, his, shirt is tossed to one side of the room. Your parents fly to the other side of the bed. Only once he has the entire spanse of your body nude and vulnerable to him does he take the time to pause, to look down at you with absolute adoration.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.”

He’s said those words to you a million times before. Consistently greeting you with them, muttering them in the dead of night, whispering them as he kisses you awake. But they never lose their weight. And certainly not now, as he’s looking down at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen that freckle on your chest or the curve of your stomach barren before him.

“Please, if you’re comfortable with it…” you start, voice laced with desperation, but he shakes his head.

He’s full of interruptions tonight, “Consider me comfortable with anything unless stated otherwise for this moment, my sweet.”

“Take off your clothes, Astarion.”

His giddy smile should annoy you. That smug satisfaction in finally, finally getting his way as he undresses himself at almost twice the speed that he had stripped you. And yet he knows you’re enjoying yourself just as much as he is. You’re reveling in drinking in the bare caricatures of his body, every inch and every curve exposed to you just as you are to him. And when his cool skin meets yours again, his body sinking right into that space between your thighs that you’ve granted to him, you let out a short gasp that reminds him that you want this just as badly as he does.

You’ve waited just as long as he has.

It almost mirrors that night on his grave. The slow descent of his body against yours, the way he slides a leg up to spread your own even further for him as he crawls his way back home to your lips. Unlike that night, however, he isn’t taking quite as much care, his movements far faster and far more needy.

He’s been waiting long enough. He’s denied himself long enough.

It really doesn’t matter when the last time he had enjoyed sex had been, because all that he cares about is that here and now, in this moment with you, there’s not a trace of imperfections to taint his enjoyment.

Cazador is dead. The brain has long since been defeated. You are both safe.

As he sinks into your heat, the only thing on his mind is that contentment, overwhelmed with the feel and smell of just you.

He’ll never be a slave again. Never be viewed as something to simply be used and disregarded again, if you have any say. And one day, some day, he’ll even feel the warmth of the sun again. Thanks to you.

But until that day, the warmth of your love is enough.

When you sigh his name out so delicately, jaw all but unhinging itself in bliss as your back arches in reaction to his touches, he knows he’s made the right choice.

And he supposes he lied, in a way, earlier.

You’re not that hard to please – not when it comes to him, at least. Not when it’s his hands trailing along your skin, not when it’s his lips and fangs nipping at every opportunity. And certainly not when it’s his name that’s being chanted like a prayer from your lips in time with every thrust, every stroke, every single movement with the sole purpose of making both of you come undone.

Astarion no longer questions when the last time he enjoyed sex was in the aftermath of it all. With you, pressed into his side, sweaty forehead nuzzling his chest, the only thing he cares about is the next time he’ll be able to do so.

“We’re still going to that reunion,” you murmur, half asleep, fading away from him quickly to fall into blissful unconsciousness.

He almost doesn’t breathe in fear of disturbing you. He’ll waste the night away, laying here, still as a statue for your comfort.

It’s no surprise when he refuses to put up a fight, instead his hand simply drawing soft stars across the back of your bare shoulder blades as he sighs, “Yes, dear. We will. Now sleep.”

“I love you.”

The words tumble from your lips so carelessly, so easily and without hesitation, he nearly shakes you awake to hear them once more. Again and again, he needs to hear them, to be reassured that you feel for him as ardently as he does you.

But he has the rest of your forever to hear them. So he lets you sleep, sending you away with a simple press of his lips to your temples as your breathing evens.

“And I love you, my dearest sun.”

#ghost's stories #smutty party #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion x you #my writing #there's a line in here that my best friend watched me write in real time IN PERSON that we both cackled about #i went 'i really shouldn't include it' and she went 'but it's HIM'#it's giving 'i'd rather be the only dark power inside you'#idk if this is good but it is what it is ya know #if the ending feels rushed it's because i felt terrible for how long it was getting lol #i just wanna love on the boy #i just wanna love him and he love me is that too much to ask #so many pet names i considered editing but the voices won

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feelo-fick · 5 months

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WELCOME TO PHIO'S EXTREMELY SELF INDULGENT AU HOUR!!!

"Oh, FINALLY, another visitor! It's so quiet in here, it's unnerving..."

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This AU was meant to be posted on halloween but eh.... Happy Thanksgiving? HAHAHHA

still dont have a name for it, but basically, back in october i was suddenly hit with the need to have a halloween au, so now we have ghost-ified prismo and vampire/witch-ified scarab :D ( although didnt finish the scarab reference spread in time because uh, school and i lost motivation unfortunately )

au synopsis and rambling below the cut!!

the premise of this au is simple : scarab is a real estate agent whos known for his manners ( never barges in, always waits to be invited! though it is a little weird how he keeps asking to be let inside even if they already agreed that he was going to come over... ) and efficiency at his job - that is, convincing people to buy high-end housing for a good price. although his social skills need some... work, his ability to persuade people isnt something to be laughed at.

unfortunately for him, persuading the higher-ups is a completely different story - which he learned the hard way after flunking something big for the company. they dont choose to fire him, no. instead, they put him through a trial, assigning him to sell their most unprofitable property : the mansion in a small town locally known for being haunted by an "evil spirit". if scarab manages to sell it (for good profit) within six months, he is excused and is able to go on with his job. if not... well, best not to think about it, yes? after all, he'll succeed with ease - all he has to do is dispel any worries about some fake "ghost" that only exists as a result of filthy rumors. maybe clean up the place. not too hard, right?

meanwhile, stuck inside said mansion is an extremely bored prismo. hes been hangin around this place for like... how many years now? forty? a hundred? meh, all the same, lately the place has been quieter than usual. i mean- of course people dont just walk into a creepy mansion every day, but there would usually be at least a few bold kids or vloggers coming in now and then for him to entertain but even then they wouldn't stay long ( for obvious reasons ). and now, just some unbound spirits or dumb animals would pass by and thats about it. a guy can only entertain himself for so long, yknow?

that is, until today. when some posh-looking business man entered the premises and started snooping around ( whats the deal with that, by the way?? ). must be prismo's lucky day!! this is the perfect chance to pull out all the stops and play the FUNNIEST prank ever! hah!

... oh. looks like things've gotten a little out of hand.

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WOOT WOOT WOOTTTTTTTTTTT!!! im so so happy to finish this because ohhhhh my god this has taken ages for no reason other than the fact that ive been really dragging myself to make presentable art JSNDJSJXNSJX.... i realize that i have never worked in real estate ( or at all ) which means i have probably fucked something up but uhh um ill deal with the backlash later :"D im also realizing how many odd unanswered bits and bobs this au is going to have in the future, which... i am ignoring for the most part for now, but there are SOME things that i DO have figured out like ghost lore... but thats for another time, for now i leave you with this >:)

#again i do apologize for not including scarabs reference SOB it was taking so looooong and if i didnt finish it by now i wouldve just never #posted it at ALL so im glad im able to get this out now #again still dont have a name... but would love suggestions if people have any :D #ive been thinking so hard about the name and havent landed on aaaanything dude #creepy crawlies? tell-tale?? witching hour?? GAHH THERES SO MANY OPTIONS AND I DONT KNOW WHETHER I WANT TO GO WITH SYMBOLISM OR SILLY SIMPL #but anyways time for real tags #prohibitedwish #prismo the wishmaster #scarab the god auditor #uhh idk what else to put HAHAHHA #dont wanna tag fionna and cake cause i feel like thats just a lie idk #ACKKK I CANT BELIEVE IM FINALLY POSTING THIS I AM. SO NERVOUS MY HANDS ARE SO SWEATY YOU DOTN EVEN KNOW #okay okay. sending post now oh god

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genericpuff · 4 months

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what people assume i'm thinking while i'm working on rekindled: "GRRR I HATE LO AND RACHEL!!! I HATE HER SO MUCH!!! THIS WILL SHOW HER AND HER FANS! THIS WILL SHOW ALL OF THEM! I HOPE RACHEL SEES THIS AND CRIES!!!"

what i'm actually thinking while i work on rekindled: "man i'm having a great time working on this but i can't wait to be done with this panel that's driving me nuts. i wonder how i can get that cool splatter effect rachel did in S1. bright colors make brain go brrrr. i can't wait to get to the part where hades clowns on himself. oof i'm hungry, i need to figure out what to have for dinner tonight. oh look, an 11 hour retrospective on the simpsons-"

#fr i'm vibin' y'all i'm having a great time #ppl see me joke about rekindled being a spite project and just automatically assume i'm SEETHING the whole time i'm working on it #i wouldn't waste time working on something purely out of hate y'all lmao #it's easy to cling to the idea that i hate lore olympus with a blind seething passion due to what i get up to here #and it undoubtedly makes for the easiest explanation that doesn't require any nuance #but i promise you that i still have a lot of love for how LO used to make me feel and what it meant to me once upon a time #i wouldn't be trying so hard to make it emulate the style of S1 to begin with if i didn't love it deep down lol #you're just on an LO critical blog so ofc a lot of what you're gonna see is LO critical stuff LMAO #don't miss the forest for the trees pls <3 #i didn't even include all the times i'm sitting there drawing thinking 'i wanna play video games i wanna play video games i wanna play vid-#lore rekindled #self post

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welcometogrouchland · 1 year

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I also think it's nice that they made Camilla a sci-fi nerd and Luz a fantasy nerd. They're genres that are often seen as completely opposing one another by many people, which is what we're led to believe about Luz and Camilla in season 1. Luz is silly, nerdy, frequently in over her head and irresponsible and loves the boiling isles. We're led to believe that Camilla is the normal, conventional TV mother who'd be disgusted and terrified by the demon realm if she saw it.

Then yesterday's lie gives us a lot of nuance to this, and we realize that while they're still very different and now on opposite sides of a conflict, both mother and daughter are incredibly kind people (seen in their treatment of Vee) who love each other but struggle to make the right choices without hurting one another.

Then thanks to them drops all this Camilla characterization and we realize! She was a nerd too this whole time! The wedge between Camilla and Luz is motivated by past traumas and grief! and for the future has them switching sides on the central conflict of where Luz should stay (Camilla now wanting Luz in the demon realm because it's what's best for her, and Luz believing that staying in the human realm is what's best for the people she loves). They finally talk and realize that, like Willow pointed out earlier in the ep, the two are so alike. Camilla reveals that she's a secret nerd too! That she had a hard time growing up and accidentally hurt Luz trying to save her from the same fait! It's so important to me that Camilla keeps calling Luz a good witch. It's affirming her interests and goals, reminding her that she's just as good as the hero of her favorite story. And Luz finally only realizes that she wants to be understood...when she's finally able to understand her mom. When she realizes that the woman she loves and admires is just as much of a nerdy screw-up as her and that there's hope for her. Her palismen ends being multiple animals at once, showing both how Luz making unconventional choices (like carving an egg) keeps paying off for her and how her potential is limitless now that she finally knows and accepts her own goals, but to me it also reminds of the fact that Camilla is a vet and passed a love of all the weird and unliked animals (like wolves, possums, snakes, etc) to her.

It's just so so sweet and it really shows how much love and thought the crew put into this mother daughter storyline (FTF haters are not welcome on this page, respectfully). I can't wait to see how both of these misunderstood but healing women (who radiate "little/big sister" and "mom" energy respectively) are gonna interact with a) the lonely, easily manipulated and well intentioned but ignorant collector (a mix of both their interests as a magic being with a space motif! I just realized that lol) and b) the nasty puritan white man who's really obsessed with conforming to society's norms even when it literally doesn't benefit him at all.

Anyway, I believe in noceda( AND clawthorne 👀) family supremacy 💙