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boneandfur · 11 months

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Choices Flash Fic! DarkFic; Tobias x F!MC

Angels in Hell

@choicesflashfics #36. Uses prompt #2, "You’re allowed to fall apart a little."

A/N: I started writing this before I thought to grab a prompt, and it went to dark places. It was supplied to be a Harper x Ethan, but F!MC started talking... That's it. This fic is dark and I'm not sure why it came out, since it seems like the first chapter rather than a one shot. // Words: 1150 // Pairing: light f!mc x Tobias, acor MC x Antony (implied) // implied age gap relationship.

I always knew I'd end up working for the Outfit, from the time Uncle Tony caught me with a plastic stethoscope in my hands, to the day that Uncle Sam signed my soul over to the combat medical corps.

We need good people... like you, Chiara. You're the brains and Sy is the brawn. There will always be a place for the both of youse in the Outfit.

Is that because of Mama? I asked as I stood in front of Uncle Tony's desk and watched him swallow his grief along with his Campari, gold rings glittering. The shadow of two days beard was heavy on his jaw, and I yearned to reach out, to touch him, but instead crumpled the acceptance letter to Edenbrook in my pocket into a smaller and smaller ball, trying to keep my breathing steady as I watched him, the hero of my girlhood, the master of us all.

He set the glass down on his desk, the sound of it like the funeral bells that had gonged as the hearse pulled away from the cathedral steps in Little Italy, and I felt my throat tighten too. I swallowed my grief with my wine, clinking his glass in a toast. To her, then. I would always live in her shadow, until I could prove my worth.

Uncle Tony's eyes glistened wetly. Arin was a good woman. Bellissima... my tiger. You remind me of her, Princess. That blonde hair, and those eyes... Dio in paradiso, but she was a hurricane. And you are her very image...

Even though he'd married Octavia, I knew Mama had been the love of his life. Uncle Tony would have died for her, and nearly did. That was why I gave him my pledge of loyalty, right there in that room. A pledge for love, the kind that lasts beyond the grave.

And when I returned, I was no longer Chiara Valentine, Arin Valentine's little princess, but Chiara Valentine, combat medic and fast tracked through medical school due to all the strings pulled by Uncle Tony. It wasn't that I couldn't have done it on my own recognizance, but time was a luxury we didn't have after Doc Claudius had gotten his brains blown out by the Family, out in Drakovia. And Sy was in the clink. Again. For stealing cars from some gang in LA, connected to the Yakuza.

The Campari on the desk turned into the Negroni at the bar, and I was staring up into the golden eyes of my boss's and biggest mistake's biggest rival, the one and only Dr Tobias Carrick.

"Valentine." His upper lip curled, and I itched to smack the smugness right off his face, but I'd probably break a nail. After all, I was the Brains. I'd never fought anyone closer than fifty paces in my life, and we'd been in a tank. "Am I really that ugly, little princess, or do you scowl like that at all the plebs?"

If it were up to me, men like him would be six feet under, but I'd promised to hold my peace on mob soil, and the last thing Uncle Tony needed was a war with the Irish. Not that he'd do it for my sake -- it had been Mama who held his heart, and always would. So when I opened my mouth, what came out next surprised me. "I lost ... I lost someone. Today... it's the anniversary of her death."

"Bartender!" Tobias waved down the hipster serving white claw spritzers to the masses. "Get us a bottle of -- what's your poison, princess?"

"Limoncello." I didn't have to hesitate when the bartender slid the bottle down, and poured us two, on the rocks.

He prepared to knock back the entire glass when I caught him on the sleeve, for a moment looking thrown off his game, like he'd never seen a woman before. "Whoa there, Princess."

"Do you know what they say, Dr Carrick? They say that only the dead have seen the end of war. That's Plato. And don't call me princess." That's Antony's name for me.

"You’re allowed to fall apart a little." He touched my cheek gently, and it was only then that I realized I was crying. "Was it... a patient?"

What could I tell him? Of Afghanistan, and the starless desert skies that seemed to reach into the abyss, or of that single moment when my life changed forever? Or of how my life now seemed laid out before me in a single straight line with only a few stops along the way, Chicago to Afghanistan, to Boston and soon, soon, sooner than anyone could ever know, back again.

A pledge for love, the kind that lasts beyond the grave.

"She's been dead a long time." I wiped my cheek angrily with my sleeve, streaks of mascara coming away on it. "My mother. She died, and no one ever figured out what it was that killed her. That's why I'm here, really." I had never admitted the truth out loud before, to anyone.

Antony had come to find me at the barracks. I'd been barely eighteen, and one year in the army already. We'd drunk Limoncello til midnight, Arin Valentine's favorite drink, and we'd held one another and wept. In the morning, he'd left me with blood still drying on the sheets and an ache in my heart that no amount of Limoncello would ever ease.

A pledge for loyalty, until I stepped out of her shadow and proved my worth.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Tobias rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw and held out a hand. "We can just walk, Chiara. You look like you need some air. I won't talk about old business tonight, and it's not a trick, I... I promise."

I took his hand, Dio in paradiso, heaven and hell. Eyes as gold as the sunless desert sands. "You can talk about it all you want, Tobias." I don't care if we win, after all, a snap of the fingers, a pouch filled with thirty pieces of silver, a handshake in a back room, that grant will end up lining the pockets of Edenbrook instead of Mass Kenmore, whether Tobias Carrick likes it or not.

I'll be going back to the Outfit, my mother's daughter, back to Antony. For I owe so much more to him than blood. Life and loyalty, and a love that never dies.

"Valentine?" Tobias waited by the door, jacket thrown over one shoulder, looking at me with a troubled question in his eyes. If I slid off the stool now, I'd have to make that choice. I'd have to face the truth about what drove me to this place, to Boston, to Edenbrook, and to stare at my own reflection in a glass of Limoncello as I counted the stars like the drops of blood in a vein, all the way down the bloody years.

Blood on my hands, blood on the sheets, washed clean by my tears.

Demoni in paradiso, angeli all'inferno.

Only the dead have seen the end of war.

#playchoices #open heart #a courtesan of rome #acor #choices oph #f!mc x tobias carrick #mc x tobias carrick #tobias carrick #marc antony #Marc Antony acor #dark fic

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choicesruinedloveforme · 1 year

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Happy Ides of March!! Marc Antony will always have a tight hold on my heart❤️

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #acor #a courtesan of rome #mc x marc antony #marc antony #pixelberry

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michaelirby · 2 years

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*antoni porowski voice* sometimes Bishop doing laundry and being domestic can be so personal

#i love two (2) men #antoni and bishop #mayans mc #mayans fx #bishop losa #bishop losa fluff #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa imagine #jexxy yells into the void #my stuff

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a-cloud-for-dreams · 2 months

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Aesthetic Quote Post Masterlist

🚧 Will Continue To Update... 🚧

~ Playchoices ~

Cerise Hexley, First Vampiric Inhuman, in 9 Quotes

Mal and Salem in 9 Quotes

Nymeria, Princess of Gaul, in 10 Quotes

Anitha and Griffin in 9 Quotes

~ Romance Club ~

Gabriel and Amala in 9 Quotes

Radha and Devi in 9 Quotes

Malbonte and Vicky in 9 Quotes

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averagetastesofonelittlebird · 1 year

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When fucking Caius Vergenius disturbs your peace at the Forum.

#marc antony x mc #a courtesan of rome #acor marc antony #choices fanart #playchoices

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thefirstcourtesan · 1 year

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it was JUST NOW that i realized you were the one who wrote a lot of my favorite acor fics from years ago !!! (went through your tag after i saw the last couple of asks you got about the book ahaha i hope you don't mind !!!) i love the fics and the meta you've done for portia and for moira, but i'd also love to hear more about your cassius and sabina MCs (if you did any playthroughs with them) and how they're different from your MCs that romanced antony and syphax

Awwww! Thank you! And never apologize for going through my tag, I have actually been loving the notification and the walk down memory lane.

I never ended up creating an MC for Sabina, I intended to but it just never happened, but my Cassius MC Brighid did end up as fleshed out as Portia and Moira and I did do a full play through with her.

Basically, Brighid is who I originally thought Portia would be (literally, I actually originally intended for Portia to be her Roman name and Brighid her Gaul name and ended up abandoning it and making Brighid a seperate MC). When I first started playing ACOR, I envisioned Portia as loving Cassius but wanting Antony and I saw her as bent on revenge at all cost but as I played the book and I started writing her, I realized that wasn’t her.

Portia, at her core, is a survivor. She was determined to not just survive Rome, but to thrive. If she had to become more Roman than Gaul, so be it. Not only that, but she would become the best Roman she could. She would show them all. And that is what made her so well suited for Antony. They were both survivors, both determined to prove the Roman elite wrong and they both wanted power. Portia became a woman who would adapt when she had to (like sparing Aquila to regain Antony’s favor) and who’s end goal wasn’t just to kill Caesar, but to claim Rome and rule it. I originally intended fo r her to love Cassius, but that just didn’t fit her. He was too idealistic for her, so in the end, I had her use him to help her kill Caesar.

Moira, my Syphax MC, is her exact opposite in every way. Moira’s whole focus has always been her family, revenge was a means to an end. Rome is her prison. She can’t lie as well as a courtesan should. She hates everything Antony stands for and lets him know. Moira wants Caesar dead, but mostly she wants her own freedom and she wants to leave Rome and everything attached to it behind. Moira was created to be the opposite of Portia.

Brighid, is more complicated. She is far more like Portia then Moira. As I said, she is the Portia that might have been. She shares many of the same qualities of Portia, the ability to lie and perform and adapt to Rome. But while Portia is a survivor at her core, Brighid is more complicated. Brighid has never forgotten Gaul, never let go of who she was and she has never forgiven Rome for what they did to her. So she wants Aquila to die and Caesar. She doesn’t care anything for Rome or the Republic, she just wants her own revenge.

But she does love Cassius. She loves his kindness and his ideals. She loves that he helps her see a new side of Rome and his people. She love that he makes her feel safe. However, as much as she loves Cassius, she is drawn to Antony like a moth to a flame. She does not like him, but she understands him and more than that she burns for him.

I chose the hate sex for Brighid and it was perfect.

She doesn’t love Antony. She doesn’t even particularly like him. But she desires him. Even as she is set on a life with Cassius, she needs that moment with Antony, one last tumble in his bed. She can tell herself it is the best way to distract him, but the truth is that she wanted it, wanted him.

But she still chooses Cassius. She loves Cassius and she is thrilled to get a life with him. A life that involves returning to Gaul, because she need that (which is also why Antony is a bad match for her, as he is the LI that will not accompany the MC to Gaul).

With Portia, I created an MC who had become Roman, who had chosen to adapt her surroundings. Brighid is who she might have been if revenge had been more important to her than survival and if she had never let go of Gaul. Brighid is not a woman that could have ever chosen Antony in the end, just like Portia would never have truly been content with Cassius. I see them both as very different from Moira, because Portia and Brighid were both willing to do whatever they had to for their goal, in a way Moira would not. Portia and Brighid are two sides of the same coin, while Moira was something else entirely.

Thank you so much for this ask @mrsstavizzi I love talking about my ACOR MCs, they have such a special spot in my heart.

#ask misha #playchoices #a courtesan of rome #Cassius x mc #Marc Antony x mc #my MCs

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dummie-vaughn · 2 years

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Me having a nice day: :)

Me remembering Marc Antony never says “I love you” back: :(

#Mc x Marc antony #Marc antony #acor #marc Antony acor #A courtesan of rome #arin of the catauni #Antony acor

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sloanesallow · 3 months

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give you my wild

Nearly a decade into their marriage, Sebastian and Sloane lead a peaceful, idyllic life in a coastal cottage with their toddler-aged son, Antony. As their anniversary approaches and they have the opportunity to spend some much-needed alone time together, Sebastian wonders if it is time for their family to grow. ✨Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Tags: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), body worship, overstimulation, dirty talk, and Sebastian's fanon breeding kink. Also domestic bliss, sharing a bath, tooth-rotting fluff and Dad!Seb. [Read on Ao3] | [Read on Wattpad]

The Sallow homestead is a quaint, modest cottage on the English coast, surrounded by rolling hills and sprawling fields as far as the eye can see. It is paradise for Sebastian and his wife, their own little slice of heaven away from the hustle and bustle of the wizarding and muggle worlds.

Wife—Sebastian’s lips turn up in a lopsided grin at the word as he thinks about how lucky he is to have Siobhan—Sloane—as his bride. Ten years now he’s known her, and for ten years they have been inseparable, blossoming from friends to lovers to soulmates to parents. Every day is a blessing, the peace hard-earned and well-deserved after the turmoil of their younger years.

The decision to settle down came only after the birth of their son, Antony. His arrival was not necessarily planned, but welcomed nonetheless, allowing the married couple to retire very early from their Ministry positions. Instead of traveling the world as a curse-breaking-healer duo, the two focus on research while raising their young tot. To Sebastian’s everlasting surprise, fatherhood comes naturally to him, and he thrives, wondering why he ever cared about notoriety when life’s greatest treasure is family—home.

Despite the isolation, their location is in close enough proximity to Nottingham, where Sloane’s father resides. A few hours by muggle means, Mr. Sloane—Grandpa Sloane—is always ready to lend a helping hand. He is the type of parental figure Sebastian always dreamed of after losing his parents, forever grateful for the older man’s patience and guidance. That, and Mr. Sloane’s willingness to care for his grandson.

Even though Antony is a quiet and well-behaved child, he gets into his fair share of messes if left alone for even a second. At nearly three, he is an avid explorer, constantly covered in dirt from the garden, running in and out of the house to show off whatever bug or amphibian he’d dug up. His interests would not be an issue if Antony wasn’t also obsessed with sticking anything and everything in his tiny mouth, as if to learn more by taste.

Maintaining intimacy while nurturing such a curious child is not an easy task, especially when Sebastian and Sloane are still so enamored with one another, even after all these years. The so-called honeymoon period has endured, a bliss neither seem interested in losing. More times than not they are interrupted by the pitter-patter of feet in the hallway, and even when they do manage to copulate, it is usually with hushed whispers and rushed movements to avoid waking their son.

There’s been even more of a dry spell as of late, between Sebastian’s research and Sloane’s travels to Hogwarts and Beauxbatons to lecture students on advancements in Herbology. Antony has been rather clingy too, insisting on sleeping between his mummy and duddy every evening.

Suffice it to say, Sebastian is eager to spend some time alone with his beloved wife. Very eager. With their wedding anniversary on the horizon, it is the perfect opportunity for Antony to stay with Grandpa Sloane in Nottingham for the weekend. His son barely mumbles a goodbye, too distracted by the barn cats and the promise of a sweet treat to notice his father apparating away.

The sun is setting by the time Sebastian returns to the seaside cottage, the chilly salt air tousling his dark hair as he makes his way up the stone pathway. Smoke billows from the chimney and he can smell the Shepard’s pie Sloane is cooking as he approaches the front door.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!”

Sloane doesn’t seem to register his return, continuing her idle humming in the kitchen. Sebastian quickly shucks his boots, hanging his cap and coat on the nearby rack before moving closer to where she’s standing in front of the largest counter, diligently kneading a large mass of dough. He watches her as he rolls up his sleeves, a content smile on his face as he wonders for the millionth time what luck or divine intervention led her to him, made her stay. There’s a nervous flutter in his gut when she peeks over her shoulder and greets him with a bright smile.

“Welcome home, dear.”

Is it possible to fall more in love every day? They’ve grown up together, matured from the fire of youthful love to the deep, abiding connection of a shared life. Well, mostly matured. That passion is still present, a burning flame ignited each time their eyes meet. Sebastian struggles to tamper it down as he closes the distance, resting his hands on her hips, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek.

“How was the trip?” she asks. He can feel the muscles in her back and shoulders flexing as she continues working the dough. “Is Ant alright?”

“He’s fine,” Sebastian murmurs, already distracted by his racing thoughts and the anticipation of what the evening might bring. “I think Ant loves his Daideo more than us.”

“I think Ant loves ice cream,” Sloane suggests, plopping the rolled dough into a large baking dish and setting it aside. She dusts the countertop with more flour, white specks sticking to her fingers and apron. “That’s at the top of every toddler’s hierarchy.”

Sebastian hums in response, unable to resist the urge to kiss her exposed neck. He smirks when she sucks in a sharp breath, the subtle tilt of her head inviting him to continue. Still, she squirms when he wraps his arms snug around her waist, pressing himself close and trapping her between his body and the countertop.

“Seb!” she playfully scolds as he nips the soft skin, kissing a trail up to the shell of her ear. “You can’t wait a few more hours?” she asks. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He slides one of his hands up to fondle a clothed breast. “Starved.”

“Sebastian!”

“Can you blame me?” he softly chuckles, not-so-subtly rolling his hips so she can feel how impatient he really is. “How long has it been since we’ve had the house to ourselves, hmm?”

Sloane sighs, melting under his touch. Too easy. “At least let me wash up, first. I smell like…mashed potatoes, hardly an aphrodisiac.”

“You don’t know that,” he jokes, barely pausing in his lavishing of her neck. He undoes the first few buttons on the back of her blouse so he can kiss her shoulder, too. “Sweetheart, you could be covered in troll guts, and I’d still devour you.”

Sloane’s laugh melts into a delighted moan as Sebastian continues, bunching the fabric of her skirt up until he can snake an eager hand beneath. He strokes her thigh before squeezing the flesh of her bottom, grinning at the silky feel of her underwear.

“These are new,” he comments, appreciatively.

“From my last trip to Paris,” she explains with bated breath.

“Bénis soient les français.”

He slides his fingers between her clenched thighs and groans at the warm slick he finds, the thin fabric saturated with her arousal. Slipping past the barrier, he rubs two fingers through her folds and up to circle her clit with a featherlight touch, one that makes her buck against his palm. Sloane’s head lulls even more to the side as she whimpers and rocks her hips, seeking friction.

“That,” he whispers against her ear as he slowly sinks his fingers inside her heat. She clenches around him and moans as he drags his digits back before plunging back in. “That is my favorite sound in the world, love. The sound of you falling apart under my touch.”

“I’ve been dreaming about tonight, Sloane, of having you all to myself,” Sebastian is reminded of just how long it’s been since they had the freedom to be loud, how long it’s been since she’s screamed his name in ecstasy. “Do you still want to wait?” he teases, darkly chuckling when she quickly shakes her head.

He crooks his fingers, expertly finding the sweet spot that makes her gasp and knees tremble. Sloane grips the edge of the counter as if it is the only thing anchoring her to the earth, and Sebastian presses his weight against her to keep her upright.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coaxes, lips trailing down the slope of her shoulder. “Be a good girl and come on my fingers. I want you drenched before I take you properly.”

Sloane’s core is a vice as she unravels, the back of her head resting against his shoulder as her mouth falls open in a silent scream. A surge of possessive pride courses through him—he is the only man who can gift her this pleasure, he is the only man with the honor of seeing such vulnerability. She is still shaking when he retracts his fingers, bringing them to his lips to taste her sweet nectar.

She slumps forward a little, breathless. “Jesus—”

Sebastian knows he’s done a good job when she gets sacrilegious. He doesn’t offer much of a respite before spinning her around, swallowing her surprised shriek of laughter with a hungry kiss that is all teeth and tongue. He effortlessly lifts her by the waist, perching her on the edge of the flour-dusted countertop. Sloane senses the urgency, humming against his lips as her hands drift from his messy hair down to the clasps of his trousers. He leans away for a gulp of air and to watch as she tugs at the fabric, bunching up his shirt and pushing his pants down just enough to expose his cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses as soon as her delicate fingers wrap around him, the softness of her palm threatening to make him come right then. He blinks hard—he won’t last, but they have all evening, all weekend, to be slow. Right now, he’s desperate, needy for the feel of her cunt around his throbbing shaft. Her name comes out as a deep grumble, “Sloane.”

When he snaps his eyes open, her stormy gaze is already locked with his, pupils blown and expression just as wild as his. Sebastian doesn’t mean to be so rough when he yanks her hips to the edge of the counter, but her breathy laughter and sound of approval as she falls back is enough encouragement to spur him on. He bunches her dress up again, scooping her legs up so her ankles rest on the width of his shoulders.

With one hand he grips himself, pumping his length with a few strokes as he presses against the crux of her thighs. He pulls the soiled band of her panties to the side and drags the swollen tip of his cock against her entrance. If it were any other time, Sebastian might tease her more, edge both of their pleasure until it is too much to bear. But he is already hanging by a thread, the friction of silk and the tight, velvet heat of her encompassing him, welcoming him home.

He grips her thighs tight, pulling her closer as he slides halfway before snapping his hips forward to fill her completely. Sloane’s sharp gasp morphs into a deep moan and he repeats the motion over and over again. The recoil of his frenzied pace rattles through her body and she grips the edge of the counter, knuckles white as the flour that dusts the air and their bodies.

The kitchen is filled with the sounds of their labored breathing and slapping flesh, names murmured between pleading whimpers and desperate moans. Sebastian is unyielding, transfixed by the sight of his wife spread out beneath him, so beautifully undone as the pleasure he gives pushes her ever closer towards another release. As glorious as the image is, he can’t wait to shed their clothes and have his way with her more thoroughly, to worship every inch of her skin with his tongue and hands until she’s a writhing mess, begging for more.

He can feel the tight coil of his own release winding in his gut, his movements erratic as he pushes them both over the edge. With one hand braced on the countertop, he leans forward, almost folding her petite body in half as he loses the tempo and ruts against her like the uncaged animal he is. Sloane grips his forearm, nails biting into his flesh as her inner walls flutter and her body seizes. She cries out in blissful agony, and Sebastian echoes the mind-blowing sentiment, collapsing against her after spilling himself deep.

When there’s enough energy for their eyes to meet, they share a knowing grin—the night has only just begun.

After taking some time to satisfy their more practical hunger, the two eventually make their way to the bath, leaving the kitchen a mess to be cleaned up in the morning…or perhaps the morning after that. If Sebastian has it his way, they aren’t going to be leaving the bedroom any time soon.

For now, however, the two lay comfortably in the large, claw-footed bathtub of their ensuite, the heated water relaxing their aching muscles and washing the day away. Sebastian rests his head back against the porcelain rim, eyes closed as the steam soothes his body and soul. Sloane is settled against him, her back flush with his chest, their arms resting across her waist beneath the bubbly surface.

Silence used to be unnerving until he met her, learning that two people could simply exist. Sloane is the only person who understands him without the need for words, interpreting his moods and emotions with a simple glance or touch. To think only ten years have passed when it already feels like a lifetime—he hopes the love between them lasts for an eternity.

She lets out a contented sigh, her pinned up hair tickling his chin as she adjusts. He peeks open an eye, letting out his own cozy hum. His words are heavy and mumbled against her temple, “dun wunna get out.”

“Me either,” she whispers with a breathy chuckle. “Are we losing our youthful energy?”

“I certainly hope not,” Sebastian huffs, tightening his hold around her. He and Sloane have always had a very active sex life—fervent, wild passion, unable to keep their hands off one another. “The day I can’t pleasure you with my body is the day you take me to St. Mungos to be put out of my misery.”

“So, in ten years?”

Sebastian pinches her thigh in response to her tease, causing her to yelp and squirm with laughter. “At least we’ll have more privacy by then, to experience embarrassing sex injuries without traumatizing our son.”

“Ant will be off to Hogwarts, and we’ll have an empty house.”

He smiles at the shared assumption Antony will inherit magic. It’s not always a forgone conclusion with wizarding parents, but he doubts their inquisitive son is a squib. Another thought crosses his mind, and he shifts to sit up a little, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Would we really be on our own?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Sloane is momentarily puzzled. “Oh, well…I suppose father will still visit, though as he gets older it’ll be best if we go to him—”

Sebastian traces his fingers across her abdomen until his palm is flush against her skin. “I’m not talking about Daideo.”

Judging by her soft inhale, she realizes her husband’s meaning. The thought of growing their little family has been tickling at the edges of his mind, the idea of Sloane growing round with another child and glowing with maternal beauty—it is a vision that makes his heart swell and his loins ache with excitement.

“You know…” he drawls out his words, carefully pressing his lips against her damp skin. “I always thought we’d have more. A whole brood to envy the Weasley’s. Mornings filled with the patter of tiny footsteps and laughter…a house full of so much love.”

She doesn’t respond at first, her body somewhat tense beneath his touch. He glances up at her profile to see a hesitation in her expression he didn’t expect. As long as he knew Sloane, he thought she wanted the same—a large family to call their own. Had something changed?

“You don’t—”

“I do,” she quickly affirms, turning sideways in his embrace to look at him. “Perhaps I’ve been selfish in wanting to keep things the way they are. We’ve been so blessed with Ant…a part of me is…a little scared of changing that.”

Sebastian’s gaze softens and he dips his face closer to kiss her mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he whispers, smiling against her lips. “I’m scared too. What if…our baby is a dark wizard, or worse, a Gryffindor?”

“Be serious!” she chides through her snickering, playfully smacking his chest.

“I am!” Sebastian is equally amused, snatching her hand to lace their fingers together. She studies him, as if trying to determine how sincere he is about expanding their family. He brings her hand up to kiss her knuckles, the cold metal of her wedding band against his lips. “I want another child, Siobhan.”

The silver flecks in her storm-colored eyes shimmer as Sloane realizes immediately this isn’t some flippant suggestion, but a genuine choice, a heartfelt desire for their future. He studies her face, watching as she thickly swallows and slowly exhales, processing his words. The corner of her lip twitches as her cheeks flush with a brighter shade of pink, and not from the steam.

Sebastian takes that as a good sign.

“Even if I were to agree,” she eventually replies, not quite conceding to the idea, even as she bites back a smile. “It wouldn’t happen as soon as you say. I’d have to stop taking my contraceptives, not to mention the herbal tea you think smells like feet.”

“Because it does smell like feet,” he mutters, leaning forward to pick up the slow trail of kisses along her neck and collarbone. “Doesn’t mean we can’t…practice in the meantime.”

His grin widens into something wicked as he thinks to himself; “aren’t those the same precautionary potions you were taking when you fell pregnant with Antony?”

“That’s…beside the point.”

“Is it?” he hums. “That just means…well, I managed to beat the odds before, so who says I can’t do it again?”

Before Sloane can respond, Sebastian is lifting her from the tub as he stands, the soapy water splashing over the edge and onto the oakwood floor. She clings to him, a surprised shriek quickly turning into laughter as he carries her from the bathroom to their marital bed. He places her carefully across the fluffy duvet, her blonde hair spreading out across the pillows like a golden halo.

He covers her body with his own, hips slotted between her legs as he kisses her, their breaths hitching as his arousal presses against her belly. The levity fades as Sebastian’s hands smooth over her body, slow caresses pulling little sighs from her lips. It’s a struggle to hold back from ravishing her like he did before, his movements measured as he places kisses across her chest, balancing his weight on one arm so he can cup a breast in his hand.

Sloane arches into the sensation, her craned back as his lips wrap around a nipple, sucking it into a pebbled peak. He repeats the action with her other breast, spurred on by her labored breath and tiny moans. Her skin is still rosy from the heat of the bath, flecked with droplets of water that he laps up on his slow descent to the apex of her thighs. Sebastian spreads her a little wider, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs as he settles before her bared sex.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, hot breath fanning across her sensitive skin. He glances up to lock onto her gaze. “The mother of our child—our children.”

Sloane’s only response is a strangled moan as he drags his tongue along the seam of her folds, licking up from her entrance to her clit. He wraps his lips around the bud, alternating between gentle sucks and flicks of his tongue. Her hips twitch up against Sebastian as he expertly coaxes out her pleasure, quickly bringing her to the edge of ecstasy.

Her breath hitches again as he moves one hand to assist, spreading her arousal with his tongue before plunging two fingers past her slick petals. Her core clenches and flutters around his invading fingers, a sharp whimper escaping her throat with each thrust and curl within her core.

“Right—right there,” she rasps, her words dissolving into another shaky moan as he strokes deep, fingertips rubbing against the spongy spot within her that sparks a tidal wave. Sloane trembles, hands snapping to clasp at Sebastian’s hair as her body tenses. “Ahh—Seb—Sebastian!”

He lets out an appreciative groan against her, lapping up her sweet release like a man starved. He’s consumed, rocking his hips against the sheets to give his aching cock some temporary relief. The exquisite sight of Sloane writing under his touch is something he’ll never tire of. Sebastian keeps his fingers wedged inside of her, gently coaxing her through the sensations as her walls flutter with the aftershocks of her climax.

“Mmm…” Sloane sighs as he gradually pulls away, giving her sensitive folds one last pass with his tongue before kissing her quivering thighs. He eventually pushes himself so he’s kneeling before her, one hand caressing her leg while he strokes his length with the other.

“Sloane,” her name comes out as a husky sound, a plea and a question all in one. He lowers himself, teasing the tip of cock against her, ready to plunge into her depths. “I need you to say it. Tell me you want—” he darts his tongue out to lick his lips, prodding against her entrance. “Tell me you want another child with me.”

“Yes,” she pants, eyes wide as she stares up at him. Sloane reaches for him and begins to loop her legs up around his waist, guiding him to her heat. She manages a reply between gulping gasps. “Sebastian, yes. I want—I need you to—” a moan interrupts her train of thought, and she presses her hips up, needy as ever for him to take her. “Mmm…please, please—f—fuck—a baby into me…”

Not expecting such filthy words from his wife’s mouth, something wild takes a hold of Sebastian’s mind. He lets out a gruff sound, something between a deep growl and rumbling moan.

“Roll over,” he grunts, not bothering to wait before leaning back on his knees to help flip her onto her stomach. Sloane lets out a surprised squeak as he yanks her up by the waist so she’s on her hands and knees.

He traces over each knob of her spine with his thumbs, squeezing the flesh of her arse as he widens his stance behind her, spreading her legs further apart with his own. She pushes back against him, seeking his touch where she needs it most.

“Please,” she whimpers, looking over her shoulder at him with a half-lidded gaze.

Sebastian struggles to maintain his composure, steadying himself as unfiltered desire spills from her lips. Her plea, laced with the promise of creating new life, stokes the fire within him into a blazing inferno. With a less than gentle grip on her hips, he positions himself once more, pushing the crown of him just past her entrance before pulling her back to fill her in one powerful stroke.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, the hot stretch of her around his girth wiping his brain of any coherent thought. All that is left is the primal need to claim what is already his, mark Sloane from the inside and plant his seed deep within her fertile ground. It’s an overwhelming feeling, all encompassing, and one that surges through him with every thrust.

At first his movements are slow and deliberate, eyes locked on the lewd sight of his cock pulling out of her before driving back in. But it doesn’t take long before Sebastian picks up the pace, his pelvis slapping against her thighs as she rocks back to meet him. Every sound that escapes Sloane’s mouth is pure sin—sweet, high-pitched cries intermixed with the most ragged moans he’s ever heard.

He can feel the tension of her body as it responds to his unrelenting force, his rhythm faltering as her core clenches tightly around him. Sloane’s orgasm shakes through her entire body, her limbs spasming as she cries out, her back a beautiful arch. Sebastian control frays at the edges and he spirals, falling over the edge after her with one last surge of his hips. With a loud, guttural roar, he comes, the intensity of his release blurring his vison.

Sloane’s arms wobble until her front half collapses onto the mattress. Sebastian keeps her propped up as he gasps for breath, clutching her waist and hips as his cock continues to twitch inside her. The overstimulation causes her to shiver, and she whines into the pillow as he lets out a litany of curses and incoherent praise.

When he finally, painstakingly pulls away, his eyes snap down to the pearlescent evidence of his release trickling out of her and staining her thighs. By some miracle, Sebastian is able to stay upright, swaying a little as he rests on his heels and tries to blink the haze from his vision. Sloane slumps and he catches her boneless form, easing her down against the sheets where she practically melts with a sated sigh.

As soon as she is splayed out on her back again, Sebastian collapses across her petite form, barely keeping his weight from suffocating her as he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the aroma of her sweat-slick skin. Her arms lazily encircle his neck, and he grins as a raspy laugh falls from her lips.

“Oh my God,” she softly exclaims, her hands smoothing across his shoulders, one threading through the hair at the back of his neck. “What was that?”

“Dunno,” is all he can say with equally breathless amusement.

Perhaps of his own volition, or because he’s still burning with a longing to see her fat with his child, he lowers his groin down to drag against her mons. They both hiss at the contact, Sloane’s nails biting into his skin. Sebastian lifts himself up just enough so he can glance down between their bodies.

“Is it too much?” he whispers, wondering if he’d even be able to stop if she says it is.

But Sloane shakes her head and arches against him, silently pleading for more, as if she is also being driven by some unseen force. He shifts his balance, lifting one of her legs to slip around his waist before guiding himself back to her awaiting centre. It might be his imagination, but he can almost feel his cock pushing his come back into the depths of her channel. Sebastian bites down on his bottom lip until the taste of copper hits his tongue.

He stays close, their chests pressed against each other as he rolls his hips, keeping a languid pace for both their sakes. Sloane sighs, hitching her other leg up to ensure he strokes deep, and rests her head against his as he pants against her shoulder.

“I love you,” she declares, and it doesn’t matter that it’s the thousandth time she’s said it, the words encompass Sebastian in a warmth he never wants to leave.

He finds the strength to lift his head so their lips can crash together, matching the fervor below. He reaches to grab one of her arms, interlocking their fingers before pressing her hand into the mattress near her their heads. “I love you.”

Sebastian slips his other hand under her and lifts her hips, supporting her lower back as he grinds down, straining to keep himself balanced so he doesn’t crush her. It’s a gradual build this time, but the lingering sensitivity brings about their shared climax much sooner. Sloane’s breath hitches and her thighs tighten around his waist, her barely audible whimper preceding more whispered declarations of love. He spills again with a strained grunt and remains nestled against her as they gradually float down from a kind of bliss they write stories about.

Sebastian could drown in the storm of her eyes and the way she looks at him with all the affection in the world. He slides his hand across her waist to splay his fingers across her belly, the two sharing a quiet, knowing look. Realistically, he knew it was unlikely anything would come from their union—unions—this anniversary weekend. But that didn’t mean Sebastian couldn’t hope or pray that he and Sloane would be blessed with a child once again.

Little does he know.

Five years later

“Pancakes!”

“Oatmeal!”

“PANCAKES!”

“OATMEAL!”

Sebastian flicks his gaze from one child to the next, feeling a little more than frazzled as his twin boys argued, Cailean and Finlay debating as fiercely as any four-year-olds can. Their shouting turns into menacing glares, prompting Sebastian to glance at his eldest who was sitting at the table watching his siblings with an annoyed expression.

“What do you want, Ant?”

“To be excused,” the eight-year-old mumbles in reply.

Sebastian frowns, still unsure of how to deal with Antony’s sullen mood-swings. He looks at his youngest, Ewan, who was sitting in the highchair with a cheeky, toothless grin. At least he hasn't started talking in complete sentences—yet.

“PANCAKES!”

“OATMEAL!”

Cailean and Finlay start shouting again, this time chasing one another around the kitchen, prompting Ewan to erupt into a fit of giggles. Antony rolls his eyes and shakes his head, letting out an exasperated sigh that sounds well beyond his young years.

Sebastian never thought in a million years that at the age of thirty he would have four sons, his genetics wreaking havoc on his peaceful life and blessing him with nearly identical copies of himself. With the exception of the twin’s blonde locks and Ewan’s grey eyes, most days it feels like he is surrounded by children under the guise of Polyjuice. And they don't just look like him, either. They all have some aspect of his wild personality, making him mumble apologies to the afterlife—was he this much of a handful for his mother and father?

Maintaining his patience, Sebastian manages to stop the toddlers in their tracks, trying not to laugh at their scrunched-up faces when they attempt to protest.

“Hey now, remember we’re supposed to be quiet so mummy can sleep,” he explains in a gentle tone, thinking of his wife who has been plagued with a cold for the last few days. “Why don’t you all go outside and play—”

“NO!” the twins shout simultaneously, and Sebastian really considers he’s been cursed, the universe delivering him his karma in the form of two rambunctious offspring.

Cailean and Finlay wiggle out of their father’s grasp and attempt to run out of the kitchen, only to skid to a halt when they see their mother standing in the archway. She’s a little bleary from a restless sleep, but as beautiful as ever. The two flash sweet smiles, folding their hands behind their backs.

“Now you’ve done it,” Antony mutters, scooting his chair up to stand. He plucks Ewan from the highchair, the babe reaching out to squish his older brother’s cheeks. They exit through the nearby door to the garden.

Sloane tilts her head as she observes the remaining two, who are trying their best to appear innocent. She tuts, shaking her head. “You heard your father.”

They are out of the house as if they’ve apparated, dashing through the kitchen door. “Yes, mother!”

With all four children outside, Sebastian sighs, welcoming Sloane’s embrace as she comes to stand next to him. He greets her with a soft peck, “sorry if we woke you.”

“It’s alright,” she says softly, plucking a stuck piece of parchment from his back that reads, dummy. Sloane stifles her laughter as Sebastian groans. “I’m saving this for later.”

He smirks, wrapping his arms around her waist as he rests his chin on her shoulder, the two glancing out the kitchen window to watch their children play. Antony is sitting in the grass with Ewan in his lap, chatting to his babbling baby brother about the plants and flowers that surround them as Cailean and Finlay run themselves ragged, screaming incoherent, toddler obscenities.

As hectic as the days are, Sebastian enjoys his life as a busy father and husband, finding comfort in the chaos. He kisses Sloane’s cheek, smiling against her skin. “I love you.”

She tilts her head back to look up at him and he raises a curious eyebrow at her devious expression. He nervously chuckles, “what is it?”

Sloane grins.

“I’m pregnant.”

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow fanfic #domestic fluff #fanfic

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ghostlynimbus · 2 years

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Okay so I am sick and feeling a little miserable atm so i decided to try coming up with an ask game.

I'll list my playlists along with the number of songs in them, and if anyone wants to they can send me a playlist and a number and I'll shuffle that playlist and tell you what song ended up in that slot? and/or y'all could ask questions about a song/playlist.

I have a lot of playlists (and all of them are WIPs) so... this is going to be a bit of a long post. xD

Playlist - # of songs

(Apocalypse AU) Reddie - 2

(BAU) - 49

(BAU) Country B - 2

(BAU) Draco - 5

(BAU) Drarry - 3

(BAU) Fleur - 1

(BAU) Ginny - 1

(BAU) Harry - 5

(BAU) Key Themes - 1

(BAU) Lucius x Narcissa - 1

(BAU) Riddle - 3

(BAU) Wedding at Malfoy Manor - 1

(BNHA) Kiribaku - 1

(Complex) - 16

(Complex) Antony - 1

(Complex) MC - 2

(Complex) Rudy - 6

(Complex) Rudy x MC - 2

(DCU) Dick Greyson - 6

(DND) - 71

(DND) Apathy Oathbreaker - 4

(DND) Archer - 1

(DND) Nemain - 2

(DND) Phoenix - 7

(DND) Raav - 1

(DND) Warpath - 2

(Glee) David Karofsky - 1

(Glee) Kurt Hummel - 1

(Glee) Kurtofsky - 13

(Glee) Santana Lopez - 1

(HP) Drarry - 1

(INTSIAF) - 1

(It) Losers Club - 3

(It) Reddie - 46

(It) Richie Tozier - 17

(MP100) Mob - 2

(MT) Monster Town - 63

(MT) Alabama - 2

(MT) Dr. Frankenstein - 1

(MT) Harbinger - 1

(MT) Harbinger's Daughter - 1

(MT) HDxCD - 5

(MT) Keith - 4

(MT) Kroila - 2

(MT) Lance - 2

(MT) Old Man Ocean - 3

(MT) Phoenix - 8

(MT) Preacher - 3

(MT) Sheith - 2

(MT) Shiro - 4

(MT) Siren - 1

(MT) West - 3

(MWU) - 2

(OC) Annie - 1

(OC) Nicky - 40

(Roam) - 60

(Roam) Gil - 5

(Roam) Tyson - 25

(S) Supernatural - 1

(S) Dean - 22

(ST) Billy & Max - 8

(ST) Billy Hargrove - 77

(ST) Chrissy Cunningham - 10

(ST) Eddie Munson - 19

(ST) Harringrove - 112

(ST) Hidden Hawkins - 1

(ST) Hopper - 1

(ST) Max Mayfield - 6

(ST) Munningham - 32

(ST) Robin Buckley - 3

(ST) Steve & Dustin - 1

(ST) Steve & Robin - 2

(ST) Steve Harrington - 39

(ST) Superhero AU - 1

(VLD) Lance - 4

Cafe - 10

Hot Pavement - 5

LITW - 17

Love Songs - 46

Melancholy - 12

Midnight - 40

Midnight Kitchen - 4

Motivation - 4

Rainy Coffee Shop - 8

Road Trip - 48

Spouse - 20

Sunday Morning - 12

Sunflower - 6

Sunrise - 4

T Shirt Shop - 15

Witchy - 7

ZR - 49

#long post #ask game #music #harringrove #eddissy #munningham #drarry #reddie #other things that arent tagged bc its a long list

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pixelsandkink · 3 years

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Battle

Marc Antony x MC

Rating: E (please look away)

Words: ~395

Notes: For Misha! @thefirstcourtesan. Some form of this idea has been knocking around in my head as a Antony fic that will never see the light of day, so thanks for giving me an excuse to explore it a little!

---------------

He's looking at her with that water's surface expression. It ripples: is one thing, and then another. Serious. Amused. Curious. Frustrated.

“And no one ever asks what you like?" He continues his slow circuit around her naked body. She can only hear the frown, the laughter. "No one ever asks how they can please you?”

Amina schools her face into placidity. “On occasion.”

“And you say?”

“'What pleases you, pleases me, domine.' Among other, less intelligible remarks. It is not often a topic of conversation.”

Antony snorts. He's stopped behind her. He radiates heat as if he is the very sun. “And they believe you?”

“I confirm what they like to believe.”

"Ah." It's soft.

The hand in her hair is not. It's urgent and commanding and she folds over the bed with a sound that tramples the line between gasp and groan.

"Good," he says. "Good."

Her toes curl as he moves her, adjusts her, folds her legs to his liking, to make room for himself.

"Beautiful little liar." Affectionate and irritated. His fingers find her cunt and sink deep. "You're very wet."

Then he's inside her and the gasp is louder. There's no theater in the way her body grinds back against him. In the way she has to remind herself that this is business. This is a necessary step in the plan, a building block.

But he means to have his pleasure and hers too. His touch is both certain and experimental, drawing sighs and moans and when she arches her back he grips her thighs until she thinks she might bruise.

She is lost to it. To him. If they are at war he has taken the battle. Because she has resorted to stuffing the heel of her hand in her mouth, just to pretend at quiet.

Antony slaps it away. It knocks her off balance, driving her down to her shoulders. She loses the privilege of that arm, he's wrenched it behind her.

“None of that. I want to hear those sounds you make for me."

Again, twin flames of annoyance and amusement flicker in his tone. He is certainly mocking her when he speaks next, when she's at the precipice. Sweating and on the verge of begging.

"What do you like?" he whispers. "How do I please you?" He laughs outright.

Very much. Very much. The most.

#marc antony #antony x mc #a courtesan of rome #n/sfw #i almost wrote something else bc i was like #this is very revealing #but honestly #if you've read anything by me nothing here is shocking

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tyrilblue · 4 years

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WIP - Like a King

ACOR Marc Antony x MC (Alba)

Word count: 470

A.N.: This is a small preview of the fic I'm working on at the moment, my personal take on the end of the civil war between Antony and Octavian that started soon after Caesar's death. What's the truth behind what history tells us? What role did MC have to play?

If you want to read more, let me know and I'll add you to the taglist when I post the first part!

Alba felt a single tear roll down her cheek as she once again read the same words she already knew by heart. The pointy, decisive handwriting was familiar, but some ink blots and stains betrayed the writer's feelings here and there, showing his haste, doubt and fear clearly to the eyes of someone who knew him so well.

«Should you not receive word from me by the beginning of September, then you shall know the worst has come to happen. I cannot bear the thought of you falling into the hands of our enemy, but it will only be a matter of time before our fate finds you. This is likely to be the last you will ever hear of me. Though I do not give up hope of holding you once again in my arms, I want you to know that in the end, I would always choose you over Rome.

You are forever the first woman in my heart.»

Her breath got stuck in her throat every time she read those lines, torn between happiness and dread. Antony had to be truly desperate to write down such words for her to read, and because of that, she also knew that the feelings they showed were real. In a few hours the sun would dawn on the kalends of September, and still, not a word from her love. Alba kept touching the small, cool vial full of aconitum she always kept hanging from her neck, while praying for the sound of a messenger's hurried footsteps on the cobblestones. She closed her eyes, her mind travelling far up high and over Rome, beginning its descent along Italia. She caught a glimpse of the Vesuvius and Pompeii, then she smelled the cedar and lemon trees of Sicilia, before beginning to cross the Mediterranean sea towards the lands of Africa. She turned slightly eastwards, heading for Egypt, and her thoughts finally alighted in the sprawling palace of queen Cleopatra, the core of Alexandria. She pictured Antony there, his skin darkened by the months spent under the harsh Egyptian sun, trying to carry out the plan they had conceived together. Alba could almost hear the velvety words he used to stroke the queen's pampered ego, convincing her of his love to keep her a close ally in his fight against Octavian. Her heart clenched in jealousy every single time she thought of his hands on her body at night, of his whisperings of passion in her ear, but she found new strength in knowing his heart was still in Rome, right where she was.

Deep down, Alba couldn't help feeling that he was still alive. She was sure the gods would let her know if she was to lose all hope, and that was why she kept delaying the fate she and Antony had designed for themselves.

@choicesficwriterscreations I hope it's not too late to submit this for WIP Wednesdays! Thank you for your work 🥰

#a courtesan of rome #acor choices #marc antony #marc antony x mc #marc antony fic #antony x mc #choices fanfiction #work in progress #a courtesan of rome fanfiction #choices marc antony

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silversparrow1112 · 4 years

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This has been sitting in my phone unfinished over a year.. oops 😶

The quality isn't very good because it's done in my ooold phone and the app isn't in vector :/ I'm kind of nervous posting this heheh..

*Click picture for better resolution*

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queenzoeywade · 4 years

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When you romance Antony and you actually love him,it's hard to know if he loves you back or if he's using you, but when you just romance him to manipulate him, you know you have the upper hand and you see him as a weak dummie who fell in love with a courtesan.

#choices #choices pixelberry #pixelberry #pb choices #pb #acor #choices acor #a courtesan of rome #marc antony #marc antony x mc #mc x marc antony #antony x mc #mc x antony

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choicesarehard · 5 years

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