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#more ✨modest✨
prvtocol · 7 months
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Director Landry's North Oak Estate #1 (c. 2075-2077)
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romancemoon · 2 years
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my writing can be a little terse, to-the-point, and plain but i really like it... no words wasted. everything builds the scene and the mood.......... i am applauding myself.......
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chingyu1023vick · 8 months
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Zodiac Signs Mod
✨ Zodiac Signs have minor effects on personality and can affect Social Compatibility & Autonomy between any two Sims!
**Base game compatible.
**Compatible with all my other mods.
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The social compatibility pairings and sign descriptions originated from Sims 1 and 2
Addon to assign Zodiac Signs based on current Seasons/ randomly when a Newborn Baby aging up to an Infant
Cheat to pick Zodiac Signs manually (All Ages)
Cheat to let the game determine a Sim's Zodiac Sign based on their personality traits (Child+ Ages)
Social interactions to share Zodiac Signs info/ learn other Sims' Zodiac Signs (Child+ Ages)
Addon to pick in CAS mode and display as Personality Traits to show up in other Sims' info panels.  (Child+ Ages) Please notice that using this addon will take up a personality traits slot (out of six default personality traits for adult Sims if not using mods to give more personality traits slots.) 
Without the addon, zodiac signs are by default GAMEPLAY traits that won't take up a personality traits slot and won't display in other Sims' info panels.
Gives occasional low-intensity +1 moodlets relating to zodiac personality. 
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Signs Descriptions & Minor effects 
Each Zodiac Sign can have minor effects on moods, autonomy, and relationship gain rates. No intrusive buffs. Sims now get occasional low-intensity +1 moodlets relating to zodiac personality. (Only available to Child+ Sims & when Sims are not in very negative moods)
♈️ Aries (March 20 - April 20)
Dynamic and confident, most Aries never shy away from the opportunity to strike up a conversation with anyone. However, they can be somewhat impulsive and quick-tempered.
Mood: Angry x1.2; Confident x1.2
Autonomy: Social autonomy x1.25; Angry autonomy x1.1; Hotheaded autonomy x1.2
Buffs: Angry/ Confident +1
♉️ Taurus (April 20 - May 21)
The typical Taurus is strong-willed and determined. That can often mean being determined to have a good time.
Mood: Focused x1.25; Uncomfortable x0.9
Autonomy: Fun autonomy x1.05; Focused autonomy x1.1; Foodie autonomy x1.2
Buffs: Focused/ Happy +1
♊️ Gemini (May 21 - June 21)
Youthful and lively, many think Gemini has enough energy for two. Also energized by conversation, it isn't surprising to find them bouncing from one topic to the next at parties.
Mood: Energized x1.25; Inspired x1.1
Autonomy: Social autonomy x1.2; Fun autonomy x1.1; Energized autonomy x1.1; Inspired autonomy x1.1
Funny social priority +1; Romance social priority +1
Buffs: Inspired/ Playful +1
♋️ Cancer (June 21 - July 23)
There is nothing extreme about Cancers—they are very balanced. They can also be very changeable which can be good or bad depending on the situation.
Mood: Angry x0.9; Fine x1.1; Tense x0.9
Autonomy: Family-oriented autonomy x1.2
Social Buffs decay faster x1.2
Buffs: Fine/ Happy +1
♌️ Leo (July 23 - August 22)
The ultimate "people" people, Leos are complete extroverts. Unfortunately, this makes them deficient in other areas.
Autonomy: Social autonomy x1.3
Friendship gains faster x1.15
Skills gain Social x1.1; Creative x0.95; Mental x0.95
Buffs: Confident/ Energized +1
♍️ Virgo (August 23 - September 23)
Modest and shy, introverted Virgos take pride in their meticulous and practical approach to life. Unfortunately, these same traits can result in a very fussy individual.
Mood: Focused x1.25; Tense x1.2; Uncomfortable x1.1
Autonomy: Social autonomy x0.8; Neat autonomy x1.2
Funny social priority -2
Buffs: Focused/ Tense +1
♎️ Libra (September 23 - October 23)
Romantic and charming and incredibly sociable, it's hard not to like a Libra. However, their social pursuits leave them little time for more practical endeavors.
Mood: Flirty x1.2; Focused x0.8
Autonomy: Flirty autonomy x1.1; Romantic autonomy x1.1; Social autonomy x1.1
Romance gains faster x1.15
Romance social priority +2
Buffs: Confident/ Dazed +1
♏️ Scorpio (October 23 - November 22)
While somewhat withdrawn from social activities, Scorpios are forceful and determined in more practical pursuits.
Mood: Fine x1.2; Focused x1.2
Autonomy: Social autonomy x0.85; Focused autonomy x1.2; Bookworm autonomy x1.2
Buffs: Confident/ Focused +1
♐️ Sagittarius (November 22 - December 22)
Jovial and carefree, Sagittarians are also blessed with boundless energy. Unfortunately, this combination can make them restless and careless.
Mood: Energized x1.2; Embarrassed x0.9; Tense x1.2
Energy needs decay x0.95
Autonomy: Fun autonomy x1.15; Energized autonomy x1.2; Hotheaded autonomy x1.2
Buffs: Energized/ Happy +1
♑️ Capricorn (December 22 - January 20)
Armed with a dry wit, Capricorns can often be found telling a good joke. Also being very practical, they strive for order and discipline.
Mood: Focused x1.2; Playful x1.1
Autonomy: Focused autonomy x1.1; Playful autonomy x1.2
Funny social priority +2
Buffs: Fine/ Focused +1
♒️ Aquarius (January 20 - February 18)
Friendly and amusing, Aquarians are excellent companions. Being well-balanced in other areas helps to make them the most agreeable sign.
Mood: Playful x1.2; Happy x1.1
Autonomy: Happy autonomy x1.1; Good autonomy x1.1
Funny social priority +1; Friendly social priority +1
Buffs: Happy/ Playful +1
♓️ Pisces (February 18 - March 20)
Selfless and kind, Pisces are one of the nicest signs. They're active too. However, this combination can make them emotionally restless and indecisive.
Mood: Sad x1.2; Energized x1.1; Inspired x1.2
Autonomy: Gloomy autonomy x1.2; Sad autonomy x1.1
Friendly social priority +2
Buffs: Happy/ Inspired +1
Social Interactions
Sims with any of the Zodiac Signs can "Ask About Zodiac Signs". Located in Friendly ---> Small Talk. Actor Sim will learn about Target Sim's Zodiac Sign.
Sims with any of the Zodiac Signs can "Enthuse About Zodiac Signs". Located in Friendly ---> Interest. Target Sim will learn about Actor Sim's Zodiac Sign.
How to give Zodiac Signs to Sims
Four ways to add zodiac signs to Sims:
1) Auto-assign Zodiac Signs based on Seasons/ randomly when a Newborn Baby aging up to an Infant
2) Assign Zodiac Signs based on a Sim's personality (vary greatly) (located in Action menu, Child+)
3) Pick Zodiac Signs in GAMEPLAY mode (located in Action menu, All Ages)
4) Manually Add Zodiac Sign in CAS mode with Addon (Child+)
When you click on Randomize Likes and Dislikes in CAS mode, it will generate one Zodiac Sign. It won't be saved after you exit CAS mode if you have already picked Zodiac Sign for your Sim.
With chingyu_addon_ZodiacSignAutoSwitchVersion installed, it will auto-turn the infant/toddler version into the child+ version when a Toddler Sim aging up to a Child.
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Autonomy: More social autonomy towards compatible signs; Less social autonomy towards incompatible signs
x2.3 toward attracting signs; x1.5 toward the same sign
x0.5 towards incompatible signs
Compatibility (Main Module): Attracted To +3/ Complementary (The Same Sign) +2*2/ Repelled by -4
Compatibility (Stronger addon): Attracted To +5/ Complementary (The Same Sign) +2*2/ Repelled by -6
Compatibility (Subtle addon): Attracted To +2/ Complementary (The Same Sign) +1*2/ Repelled by -3
👑  View Zodiac Signs Compatibility Chart HERE
🧡 Download HERE Now!
Public Access: Sept 3
🔆 Changelog in August 2023 HERE
🔹 Links to ALL My Traits, Game Mods, and CCs
🔹List of IDs for creators who want to refer my traits to their own mods 
🔹 List of Chingyu’s CC Traits Name and Descriptions for mod users
🔹 Check Mod Status after a patch & Compatibilities
👁‍🗨 Learn how to install a mod & FAQs
👁‍🗨 Terms of Use
👁‍🗨 Ask Questions/ Suggestions/ Bug Reports on Discord
▶ I need to see a screenshot or LE report to help you figure out what’s wrong!
👁‍🗨 Download on my Patreon
👁‍🗨 Follow me on Twitter
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hijackalx · 13 days
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Headcanon thingy, but who would the boys (Gale, Astarion, Wyll, and Gortash) react to seeing their lover trying on lingerie?
felt like testing my drabble skills so i added a lil something extra to them 😎💗 enjoy pookie!!
GN!reader
SLIGHT NSFW BELOW
GALE
likes when you surprise him with it. wear some under your clothes as a little treat for when he’s undressing you 😌✨
you look so good that it makes him trip over his words. he’s too busy ogling your body to pay attention to what he’s saying. will have him laughing like a nervous virgin 😹
LOVESSSSS garters. can’t keep his hands off of them. particularly loves the way your thighs strain beneath them when you’re on your knees
instantly wants to enchant the bottoms to make them vibrate and watch you get off like that (don’t ask if that’s actually possible my brain functions on horny not logic)
your outfit is inconspicuous, plain— perfect for covering up the lingerie hiding beneath. you wait patiently in his lap as he unwraps your silken robe, biting back a smirk.
he pauses to take in the sight of the lace hugging your skin, how it flows so delicately around your shape. he tuts, shooting you a familiar, frivolous grin. “feeling naughty tonight, are we?” just moments later, his hands move to rest on your bottoms, a seemingly harmless action that results in a soft buzz and a gasp. “i can work with that.”
ASTARION
insists on going with you to pick some out. follows you into every dressing room to “make sure it fits right” lol. so picky but mostly because he loves watching you try them on
his favorites are flowy/frilly types, like babydoll tops or satin robes. also LOVES stockings of any kind
makes you feel like an actual doll ✨🌸 repeatedly tells you how perfect you are and can’t keep his hands off you. will also try to get you flustered by whispering really dirty stuff about how you look into your ear
likes when you have fun with it and show off for him— be cheeky. do a little spin. bend over in front of him. be prepared for him to pinch or smack your ass though
he sits comfortably on the dressing room bench as you approach him. “how about this one?” you pull your bottom lip in playfully, placing your hands on his shoulders as he takes your body into his grasp.
“mm,” erupts from his throat, watching as his lithe fingers slip over and under the fabric sparsely covering your skin. “now, this one i like.” he places a slow and deliberate kiss to your exposed abdomen, his ruby gaze flitting up to meet yours; there’s an impish glint to them that tells you he doesn’t plan on waiting to have you any longer.
GORTASH
likes to make sketches of you wearing it. has so many drawings of you in compromising positions with it on. definitely keeps them for when he’s alone
loves corsets and bustiers because of how they emphasize your chest, especially in blacks and reds. crotchless panties also drive him INSANE
the sluttier you act while wearing it the better. don’t try to be modest (there’s honestly no reason to be anyway, he’s a freak fr 😹😹)
a sucker for fishnets. likes to take them off and use them to tie your wrists together. will also shove them in your mouth/gag you with them on occasion
his dark irises glance up from his work every so often to study your decorated figure; they follow the arch of your back, the heart shape of your ass, and linger on the exposed area between your thighs more often than not.
“lower,” he directs, and you immediately respond by deepening the angle of your back. he hums contently, scribbles some more, then adds, “spread your legs further.”
you comply once again, happy to flaunt your body under his gaze. the corner of your lip pulls upward, anticipating your reward for being such an obedient little muse.
WYLL
bust this out on your honeymoon and he gets SOOO flustered. i’m talking stuttering/looking away/rubbing his neck
his favorites on you are lacy teddies— especially in blues, purples, and whites. more traditionally sexy styles really get him going
lowkey so obsessed with how you look in it. the kind of thing that’s on his mind 24/7. almost always asking you to put it on for him at the end of the day with a little pout 😹💗
LOVES when you strip for him nice and slow, especially how you tease him by carefully revealing each skimpy garment beneath your clothes. a lapdance is also mandatory
you spot the anxiousness simmering beneath his lax surface— he longs to touch you, but you’d rather toy with him a little more.
prowling closer to where he sits, you slowly unbutton your blouse. with each maneuver of your fingers, you reveal the lingerie lying beneath, watching how his hungry, needy gaze fixates on it.
he inhales sharply as you straddle his lap and take his hand in yours. he lets you guide it over your ornamented body, his eyes heavy with desire as he mutters a low and raspy, “you’ll ruin me.”
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astrologyinterests · 5 months
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✨ s p i c y ✨
astro observations. 18+
hey y’all. ✨ it’s been so long since my last post! i kind of fell into a depression & lost my passion for astro & pretty much everything else in my life. i’m still not 100% yet, but i felt inspired enough to make this ✨ s p i c y ✨ post. so enjoy! ps. these are just my observations!
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🌶️ i’ve noticed that those with a natal venus square mars are freaks. i have this aspect & lemme tell you.. 👀 my venus causes me to act shy & modest; giving off a certain innocence, but when i truly desire someone, i won’t be shy about it! but with the square, it makes me come across as very bold & forward, almost brash. which is sometimes to my detriment. (i’ve kinda scared guys off 😅) they just couldn’t handle the heat. 😌🔥
🌶️ having venus square mars in synastry causes intense, sexual attraction. but while the attraction is off the charts, it can cause the timing & desire to be off, i’ve noticed. if you’re mars, you can come across as aggressive or too forward for venus‘ liking. or one of you could want it, and the other isn’t really feeling it at that time. or the times when you both do want it, something hinders y’all from getting down n‘ dirty!
🌶️ does anyone have the experience of someone with their jupiter on your moon wanting to get you pregnant? lmao i like a guy who has his jupiter conjunct my moon, and he has said he wanted to get me pregnant. but i think it’s because he wants to see me “big & full of his kids” 😭 with the moon having to do with the mother & jupiter being expansion. also, jupiter could just absolutely love the moons fullness & curves.
🌶️ people have talked about this aspect many times, but since i’ve experienced it, i have to talk about it too! mars conjunct ascendant. woowee! baby listen! the palpable tension & attraction is like nothing you’ve ever experienced. you can literally feel the heat radiating off each other. it’s to the point where y’all could rip off each others clothes right there & not care who’s watching. he was mars, and i was the ascendant and he couldn’t keep his hands & eyes off me.
🌶️ having mars trine/sextile jupiter in synastry could possibly lead to y’all hunching a lot. there is a lot of passion and energy here. can’t stop, won’t stop!
🌶️ someone with a natal mars-jupiter aspect could have a lot of stamina! so be prepared to go aaall night. 😏
🌶️ having your lilith on someones midheaven could possibly cause scandal. with the midheaven/10th house having to do with the public & ones reputation, you could be the “bad influence” on the 10th houser; you could bring them to do things or act in ways they know they shouldn’t. i know someone who had her lilith on a married man’s midheaven & let’s just say… they had an affair, people found out and things didn’t end well. obviously. having this synastry aspect makes the 10th houser view lilith as irresistible & forbidden.
🌶️ do cancer risings enjoy nipple stimulation? because i can’t get off without it. lol it’s my favorite type of foreplay!
🌶️ also, i know someone who has a cancer moon, which tightly conjuncts my cancer rising and he is obsessed with my breasts. he loves sucking my nipples & i love getting them sucked. 🫣 its just something about cancers & breasts. it’s crazy. lol
🌶️ having natal venus square/opposite saturn could indicate someone who is sexually repressed; they could feel shame for their sexual desires or have trouble expressing these desires. (just know that there is nothing wrong with being a sexual being!)
+ having this aspect could also point to someone who likes ‘em older & “more experienced”. they could have a kink for the whole “younger, naive, inexperienced person gets taught & “opened up” (both literally & metaphorically 😭) by the older, more experienced person.
🌶️ mars square saturn could indicate someone who is super into power imbalances. they have a kink for this kind of dynamic. boss + employee. police officer + inmate. teacher + student. you name it.
🌶️ show me your search history aquarius mars. 🤨🔎 you can’t convince me these ain’t some freaky mfs. but it’s really that aquarian “weird, eccentric & unique” influence over their mars. aquarian energy i feel is always curious & wanting to challenge the “norm”. this could also apply to mars-uranus.
🌶️ i heard virgo mars will do anything to please their partners. 👀 that virgo energy causes one to pay attention to details. they love to be thorough & efficient.
🌶️ i’ve said this before in another post, but i swear capricorn mars gives big dick energy! 🔥 they could be not that tall and/or not that built, but they just have this air of confidence (even if they arent all that confident) that screams “let daddy take care of you.” and i just know they will. definitely in the bedroom. 😩
🌶️ mars in gemini are turned on by interesting & stimulating conversations. they love humor as well as playful & witty banter. if you can keep up with them mentally, hold a conversation and keep them interested in talking, they’re yours!
+ they looove dirty talk. they come up with the nastiest, freakiest shit to say that will have you like.. 🥴
🌶️ do you guys have any experience with mars-mercury aspects in synastry? i feel like this could cause two people to always say inappropriate & sexual things to each other. maybe a lot of sexual & flirty energy.
🌶️ mars square lilith in synastry brings about so much sexual tension & could indicate such an intense & magnetic attraction between two people. this aspect could lead to some of the most passionate & wild sex you ever had! but it could also point to a lot of fighting when y’all aren’t bumpin‘ n‘ grindin’.
🌶️ taurus mars may be the type to take their time with pleasing you. 😏 that’s because taurus is thought to be a slow moving sign; they don’t like to rush or be rushed!
🌶️ you may have casual flings with people who have planets that fall into your 5th house.
🌶️ if you have cancer placements, you have a breeding kink. i don’t make the rules. 🤷🏾‍♀️🫣 you like the idea of someone “filling you up”, huh? nasty devils. 😏
🌶️ aries venus may be the type that rush through (or skip over completely) foreplay. they could learn a thing or two, from taurus placements about taking their time. 😒
+ they can kind of be animalistic when it comes to sex. they could like it rough & aggressive.
🌶️ i feel like virgo placements in women love to play the “pure, innocent virginal” role. i feel virgo placements are super submissive. (i’m talking about myself 😭)
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that’s all for now! ✨
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nicksolemnlyswears · 4 months
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WAYS TO COME UNDONE
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this is part 2 of WAYS TO DESTRESS but can be read as a standalone
summary: coriolanus keeps his promise about making you squirt all over him. what better way to do it than in front of the mirror.
pariring: young! coriolanus snow x capitol! reader
word count: 4.3k
warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, fingering, sex in front of mirror, squirting, pussy spanking, p in v, use of safe word, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it people), I DESPERATELY NEED A CORYO IN MY LIFE
a/n: hi 🌚 many wanted this, myself included hehe. it took a turn towards the end where it basically wrote itself. i have no control over what tickles my brain. i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i do. hopefully this oneshot shows more about the machinations of their relationship.
requests open ✨
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From the moment Coryo showed you the racy clip of him using you while asleep, you have not been able to stop the waves of heat that consume your cunt.
You're a stellar student who always concentrates on the lectures and participates in class. Today, you find yourself in the back of the classroom, daydreaming about Coriolanus and his tongue. Focusing was out of the picture for you as you tried not to sneak your hand between your thighs and soothe the ache.
One of the many reasons your relationship works so well is that both of you are extremely perverted. Coriolanus has always been more in tune with that side of himself, but you needed assistance to bring that side out. Coriolanus saw it in you long before you did, and he patiently gauged it out and molded it to fit his crooked ways.
It's why Coriolanus using you while you were knocked cold has you acting this way. He pleasured himself when you were at your most vulnerable, and instead of feeling violated, you thanked him. You savor that instead of finding another whore to fuck his frustration out, he stays with you, no matter the state. If that makes you sick, then be it.
When your last class was over, you rushed to the apartment. You needed Coriolanus to stop this burning inside you. Sadly, he's a teacher's pet and workaholic who only managed to get home at eight at night.
He walks into the apartment calmly, humming under his breath while you watch him like a hawk. Coryo sees you on the living room couch 'lounging' and approaches you to leave a kiss on your head. Your eye twitches when he announces he's going to shower.
His upturned lips give him away. He's tormenting you. As if waiting for him all day wasn't torture enough. It could be worse, though he could've stayed longer at the lab. God knows he has a ton of experiments to work on.
With a huff, you follow him into the bedroom.
"How was your day, darling?" He asks, taking his clothes off.
He's like a masterpiece that has escaped a museum. His fair skin is unblemished except for the scars on his back that you've spent hours running your fingers over. Sometimes, he feels them burn, a reminder of what he's done in the past, but then you're there kissing over them to ease the pain.
"Long," you dryly respond, crossing your arms, inadvertently accentuating your chest.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Coryo says humorously, stepping into the steaming shower.
The foggy glass hides him from you, but you remain watching by the bathroom door. Despite your short answers, he continues to talk to you, successfully getting under your skin.
He's entertained by your lingering presence. Privacy is not in your vocabulary anymore. Coriolanus likes it when you get this needy. It's like an experiment where he tests how far you're willing to go.
It's not complicated; all you have to do is ask, and he'll give you the world, but you're too modest for your own good. It prevents you from coming right out with it. You could've had him the moment he stepped into the apartment if you had only asked.
You look at him hopefully when he steps out of the shower. Shamelessly, you take every inch of him. Coriolanus strong shoulders, his chiseled chest and abs, his pretty pink cock that hangs half hard most of the time.
He deprives you of it as he wraps a towel around his hips. Coriolanus approaches you, water droplets falling from his blonde hair and down his body.
Coriolanus is so close to you, and when you think he'll dip his head down to kiss you, he grabs your hips and moves you to the side to give himself passage into the bedroom. "'Excuse me."
You want to throw him with the vase of roses settled on the bathroom counter. You resist since you need him to be conscious for what you have planned. You're aware of how Coriolanus can read you like a book. So why isn't he asking about your mood or if you need anything?
He sits against the headboard, wearing only his pajama bottoms, his cock clearly outlined by the fabric. Coriolanus doesn't wear underwear to bed, he doesn't like the tight fabric when he's asleep. Having you hugging him throughout the night is enough.
With a huff, you strut over to the bed and straddle his lap. Expecting it, Coriolanus reaches for your hips, holding you tight onto him.
"Do it again," you say, placing your hands on his chest and provocatively arching your back as if offering yourself to him.
"What, darling?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow. He tilts his head towards you as if he didn't hear you properly.
You roll your eyes, annoyed. "Make me squirt," you say blatantly. It sounds wrong coming from your lips.
Coriolanus chuckles, shaking his head, "I said another time, darling. I'm tired tonight."
You punch his naked chest weakly, with your frown turning deeper. He grabs your hand midway through the air as you try to smack him again.
Amused at your boldness, he opens your palm and laces your fingers together. He kisses the back of your hand and holds it to his chest.
"You are mean and cruel, Coriolanus," you spit out, hoping to annoy him by using his full name. Maybe this will make him do it or at least provoke him to do something.
"You knew that when you accepted to marry me." His gaze hardens as he taps on the engagement ring on your fourth finger.
It glints delicately, catching people's attention and letting them know you're taken. He spent months searching for the right ring for you. Coriolanus had to find the perfect balance: nothing too simple where it would pass unseen but nothing too gaudy where you wouldn't wear it.
"I don't care how cruel you are to others as long as it's not me," you respond, cradling his jaw in your hand.
"Give me a good reason why I should do it," he asks, kissing your palm.
"I'll do anything, Coryo. I'll suck you off in the lab, cockwarm you in my father's office, let you tie me up, fuck my throat, anything! Hell, I'll even let you try anal again," you huff, winding yourself up.
You must really want it if you brought up anal. It's the one thing you've tried and haven't wanted to do again. You're pretty open to his suggestions, but that one is your hard limit.
He won't make you do it again. Seeing you needy like this is enough. Although he might take your offer of blowing him under the desk in his lab.
"You make a compelling case," he hums, looking at you carefully. You're flushed without him even touching you, and your nipples are hard under your nighty.
This isn't a whim, your body is visibly begging for him. Coriolanus has to pat himself on the back. This is all his doing.
"Coryo, you don't know how many times I've watched that video," you say as if to prove how much you need him.
"Kiss me," Coriolanus sighs, giving in.
You slam your lips against his, eagerly kissing him until you're breathless. Your fingers curl around his hair, tugging the strands and making him groan into your mouth. Taking the opportunity, you slip your tongue into his mouth, tasting him.
Coriolanus smacks a hand down on your ass cheek, leaving a red imprint behind. In retaliation, your teeth bite harshly onto his lower one, causing a drop of blood to surface.
"I love you, darling," he growls as his eyes darken with lust, and he cups your face with both his hands. You've turned so bold under his tutelage, stealing pages from the book he wrote.
"Yeah, I love you too, come on," you pant, taking off your night dress to reveal yourself to him.
"I've created a monster," Coryo murmurs, pawing on one of your breasts as he mouths the other one.
"Don't act like you don't like it," you moan, rolling your hips down on his bulge. Your lack of underwear is apparent as a wet patch forms on his pants.
Coryo involuntarily unwraps you from his body as he stands from the bed. You chase his lips with a whine when he pulls away from you. Coriolanus sets a chair in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of the room, sitting on it and motioning for you to sit on his lap.
If he's going to give you what you want, he will do it his way. You need him to make you squirt, so he's going to have you watch so you never forget about the moment. He'll engrave in your brain how it was he who made it possible.
With his hands on your waist, he turns you to face the mirror and pulls you down to sit with your back to his chest. Just like a doll, he positions you with your legs propped up on his knees, exposing your dripping cunt.
"No matter what, you're going to look at yourself in the mirror, or there will be consequences," he growls into your ear, licking the shell of your ear and biting your earlobe.
"Yes, Coryo," you moan, excitedly biting your lip.
Looking at him through the mirror, you notice his wicked stare. He begins to roll your clit on his fingers steadily, earning a sigh of contentment from you.
He's memorized everything about your body. Each stage of arousal is burned into his brain at this point. It's how he knows you've been touching yourself today.
"How many times did you touch yourself?" He questions, digging his nose into your neck to smell the remnants of your lotion and perfume.
"Two before I left for university, one during lunch, and two when I got back," you admit between moans as your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
You were late to class because of Coryo's video. Still, your arousal persisted so much that you locked yourself in one of the bathrooms of the university and rubbed your clit till your legs shook with an orgasm. You walked out of the bathroom, ashamed of your behavior, but it got you throughout the rest of the day.
When you got home, you fell on the couch, pressing one of the decorative cushions between your legs. You rocked against it for nearly an hour, edging yourself to give Coriolanus time to get home. The last one was in the shower with the detachable head minutes before he arrived.
"Five times and one in public," he chides with a click of his tongue, "What do I do with you?"
Your confession is music to Coriolanus' ears, but you can't know that. So he delivers five sharp slaps down your spread cunt. He covers the reddening flesh with his hand, putting pressure on it to ease the sting.
"Ow, Coryo," you cry, digging your nails into his thighs where you are barely hanging on.
"You should've come to me. I could've helped you much more than your fingers," he tells you mockingly.
Uncovering your cunt there is a dash of red on your skin. Coriolanus didn't hold back with his slaps. It's hard to explain why, but you like it when he manhandles you like that. He makes you cry just to console you later.
"You're busy," you sniff, hiccuping when he gathers your slick to spread it over the stinging skin.
Coriolanus takes his studies and lab work seriously; you never wish to interrupt him in any way, no matter how many times he reassures you it's okay.
"I'm never too busy for you, darling," he responds, resting his chin on your shoulder. His touch returns to your clit, rubbing it round and round until you're moaning out his name.
Finally, Coriolanus slips his finger into you, giving you the relief you desperately want. Even if it is your pleasure, his fingers are better than yours. They are long and strong and know precisely how to curve to give you the pleasure you seek.
The relief that takes over you is so much that you let your head fall back with your eyes closed. In an instant, the fingers are gone, and another slap is deposited on your sensitive skin.
"Eyes on the mirror," Coriolanus reminds you. He wants you to see how he's the only one that can make you crumble.
His free hand, which had been wrapped like a vice around your waist, comes up to your chest to squeeze your breasts and nipples. His eyes darken as he observes how your supple flesh spills between his fingers.
"Look at how pretty you are," he whispers in your ear as he adds another finger into your dripping cunt.
A sense of bashfulness settles on your chest as you do as he says. You follow his hand as it trails down your sweaty skin, your face and chest flushed because of the heat. He traces your nipples with his fingers, and you watch how they turn hard in response. Next, he touches your stomach, his fingers ghosting your belly button from which he has licked his own cum from.
It's like your body harbors memories of Coriolanus Snow, from the multicolored lovebites in your chest and neck to the thick arousal that coats your thighs. Each one was caused by him, for him.
Sensing your mind is slipping, he lightly taps your thighs, bringing you back to focus on the body he considers so beautiful. He takes his wet fingers out of you and spreads your cunt even farther with them.
He traces your pearl, which is bright red, frustrated from arousal and the constant touching it has endured today. Then, your pussy lips that puff out as blood surges to it.
Coriolanus gathers the drop of slick that hangs from your fleshy pink opening. "See? All beautiful and all mine," he says. Only now does he allow you to turn from the mirror because it's to kiss him.
Remembering why you're in this position, Coriolanus slides two fingers into you, fucking them with precision into your g spot. No more teasing and prolonging.
"It feels so good, Coryo," you whine, holding onto his arm as your hips grind further into his hand.
"It looks good, too," he mutters, hypnotized by the way your cunt swallows his fingers. Not even your nails digging into his arm snaps him away from the pretty sight.
With hooded eyes, you keep looking into the mirror, waiting for the moment Coryo promised you. Coriolanus hand presses down on the spot above your mound. It's the key to make you squirt. His fingers bully your spot more forcefully, feeling your walls clench with an impending orgasm.
"Oh, fuck, C-coryo," you choke out, breathing heavily. It's like an orgasm is coming but so much better than the needy, desperate ones from today. It feels much more fulfilling.
"Relax for me," he prompts, slowing his pace. You're always so fucking tense even as he fucks you senseless.
"Ah, ah, ah," your moans staccato as you near your precipice and tears accumulate in the corner of your eyes.
It's a constant climb where you feel the excitement of nearing the top, and then suddenly, you slide back down. A sudden burst of pleasure consumes you as a gush wets Coryo's fingers and mirror. His fingers whip out and furiously rub your frustrated clit, causing a smaller gush to stream down.
Your mouth is ajar as you gasp, your hands bunching up the fabric of his pants. Your cunt visibly spasms as your orgasm prolongs itself.
"You did it, darling," Coriolanus sweetly says, kissing your cheek as he looks at you adoringly, "How did it feel?"
He touches you all over, spreading the drops of squirt that adorn your thighs. Your legs fall down limply as you relax back onto Coryo. He continues stroking your skin, looking at the beautiful, wet mess he made.
"I-I don't know, there was this just sensation of release like everything left my body," you say between pants as you try and catch your breath.
Coriolanus smirks and hugs you tightly, lost in his own world. It's like the post-orgasmic bliss affected him rather than you.
"Can we try again?" You ask minutes after, feeling the spark reignite by just thinking about the stream of fluid that came out of you.
"Whatever my darling wants," Coriolanus agrees, spanking your ass playfully when you get up from the chair.
You kneel on the floor to pull down his pants and find his leaking cock. Going straight for it, you suck him off like there is no tomorrow, swallowing around him and taking him deep till your nose rubs against his pubic bone.
Coriolanus doesn't allow himself to cum, even if his body screams at him to shoot his load into your warm mouth. Pulling you up from the floor, he pushes you towards the bed. You get on your knees and hands, shaking your ass for him cheekily.
Coriolanus has a feeling that today it will be a quick one. You're both too wound up to prolong this any further. His hand curves over your hip as he pushes his cock through your folds, wetting it. Without a warning, he snaps his hips, stretching your walls.
"Love your cock, Coryo," you moan as he fucks you harshly. "So big and thick and so deep," you mumble, acting cockdrunk.
You bury your head on the sheets, arching your back so your chest presses against the bed as you splutter nonsense. The tension of the day gets to you, and you allow yourself to go dumb on his cock.
"It's all yours, darling," he grunts, gripping your waist to push you back onto his cock. At this point, you're a cocksleeve to him as he chases his release. The sounds of his balls slapping against your clit are loud and obnoxious.
Keeping a steady rhythm, he fucks you until you're fluttering around him again. Coriolanus bends over your back, splaying his hand on your pelvis. He had promised he'd make you squirt again. It works as you drench his cock again, soaking the sheets and his thighs.
"Oh my god," you cry as your legs shake. You would've fallen flat on your face if it hadn't been for Coryo, who holds you up as he continues to push into you.
Tears soak the pillow you're hugging. It's too good. His cock is brushing repeatedly over your spongy spot. You don't want him to stop, ever, but you're so sensitive. It's a push and pull. You want more, but you're unsure if your body is up to it.
In a moment of lucidity, a wave of emotions grabs you and pulls you down. It snaps you out of your trance and hurts your chest. Shame, pleasure, desperation, joy, embarrassment, arousal.
Questions invade your brain. Since when have you been like this, letting yourself be treated this way? How are you not ashamed of yourself? This is not how a lady behaves. You're no better than a whore in a whorehouse. You should be ashamed of yourself.
"Rose!" You cry out with a sob as the shakiness localized in your legs spreads all over your body.
Immediately, Coriolanus stops all movement, startled by the use of the safe word. Your soft cries snap him out of his shock, and he, as gently and carefully as possible, pulls out of you.
Your whole body shakes as you cry, worrying Coriolanus to no end. He questions if he did anything that hurt you but comes up empty-handed.
"Darling, are you okay?" He asks, helping you sit up on the bed. He takes the clean blanket by the end of the bed, covering your body.
"Too-too much. I-I'm sorry," you hiccup, hugging the blanket tighter against you.
Coriolanus carefully respects your private space since he's unsure if you want or need his touch. He sits beside you, though, listening to anything you might need.
Humiliation fills your body. You were the one to ask for more and couldn't handle it, worrying Coryo about something that was not his fault.
"It's okay, nothing to be sorry about," he speaks with the softest voice he can muster, "Do you want me to bring you water?"
"Just hold me," you say as more tears trickle down your face.
So, he does. Coriolanus kisses your temple and runs his hand across your back until your sobs settle. He holds you close and whispers reassuring words in your ear.
You desperately want to tell him it's nothing he did. He wasn't being terribly rough or mean. You loved every moment of tonight until your emotions and unwanted thoughts got the best of you.
In your vulnerable state, the pent-up frustration of the day and the negative emotions you kept locked bubbled up and caused a sensory overload. Even now, you can barely speak, trying to regulate your emotions again.
"Don't go," you hiccup, reaching for his hand when Coryo stands from the bed. Terrified, he believes the same things your brain is feeding you.
"I'm not going anywhere, darling. Just looking for our clothes," he says, squeezing your left hand and kissing your knuckles.
Coriolanus grabs his pants from the floor and slips them on. Digging through the drawers, he finds one of his t-shirts and grabs a pair of your underwear. Your comfort is his priority, and he knows how comforting you find wearing his clothes. He helps you put the garments on, wrapping you back up on the blanket.
Leaning back on the pillows, he pulls you towards him, hugging you to his chest. You hug his middle, burying your head in his neck, falling asleep like that.
He stays awake, feeling the puffs of breath on his neck. Coriolanus hand keeps running up and down your back, under your shirt. It works to comfort himself as well.
You've only used the safe word twice, and both times, you had been doing worse things by far. He had understood twice and had been alert in any case. Today took him off guard, and it scared him.
Coryo debates on waking you the following day. He decides to do it to check how you're doing. You can decide if you want to go to university or not. He will walk you there personally if that is what you choose.
He wakes you by running his hand up and down your arm, softly shaking you out of your slumber, "Darling?"
"Mmm," you groan, your eyes fluttering open. He'd kept the curtains closed so they wouldn't bother you.
"How are you? Do you need anything?" Coriolanus asks, brushing your hair away from your face.
You stay silent momentarily, gauging your mental state, "I'm good. Am I running late?" You ask, sitting up on the bed.
"No, it's still early. Want me to walk you to school?" He asks, watching as you get up and head into the bathroom.
"Please?" You ask, turning to look at him before closing the bathroom door.
"Of course," he nods.
"Coryo, I think I know what happened last night," you speak loudly through the door, not a moment later.
"And what's that love?" He asks, standing by the door.
"I got my period," you say simply.
The blood staining your underwear is the reason you lost yourself last night. Your hormones must've been all over the place yesterday. It explains your sudden breakdown and why you were acting like a bitch in heat before that.
"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. He's glad it's just that and nothing he did. He feels calm now as most of his worry is swept away. "I'll go make breakfast," he tells you before he heads out to the kitchen.
His worry is replaced by disappointment in himself. He lost track of your damn period because he was so busy at the lab. He has to share part of the blame. Ever since he started living with you, he noticed those subtle mood changes you got as your period neared and passed through.
First is the neediness, constantly touching him and asking to be touched. You got freakier when you were ovulating. Then there is the bad mood you get whenever he just as breathes the wrong way or places something where it doesn't belong. You try hiding it and holding back your scoffs, but he notices. Lastly, it's the tears. Your emotions are delicate when this time of the month comes around.
Last year, you got your period around the time of The Hunger Games and couldn't watch them. Tears instantly tracked down your face when you usually don't care. Coriolanus had to record them for you to watch later because you wanted to see everything that was implemented, thanks to him.
Because he recognizes how you get, he took it upon himself to make those days more bearable for you. Not to say he tiptoes around you, but he's gentler, more restrained. He tries not to be too mean. Had he known your period was right around the corner, he wouldn't have teased you today or made you wait for it.
He scolds himself as he pieces the puzzle together. That must've been why you took the sleeping pills the other day. You had an emotional day, and your overthinking mind didn't let you sleep.
Sensing he's kicking himself, you hug Coryo's waist from behind as he places the food on the table. "I love you, Coryo," you say sweetly, pressing a kiss on his spine.
Now, this is more in line with your normal, sweet behavior.
Coriolanus turns around in your embrace, hugging your shoulders and pulling you tight against him, kissing your hairline. "I love you so damn much," he speaks into your hair. "You had me worried last night," he admits, kissing your lips slowly before he lets you go.
"I don't know what happened. One moment, I was alright, and the next…well, you know," you shrug, sitting on the chair Coryo pulls out for you.
"Your emotions got the best of you. I know how that feels," Coriolanus nods, understanding better than anyone how it feels to lose yourself in the moment.
That day in the forest of District 12 will forever haunt him.
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There we go! That was the part 2 I promised you! It took an unexpected turn but it felt right to me. Sorry it couldn't be kinkier :(
If you'd like to read more of this pairing you can also read The Mentor. It's a small prequel to this one shot set around three years back when they started dating. That being said The Mentor Pt. 2 is FILTHY.
If you liked it don't hesitate to let me know!
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tarjapearce · 7 months
Text
~Iridiscent (Pt. 3)~
PirateAU! Miguel O'Hara x Mermaid! Reader
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WARNINGS: Historical figure use, historical figure research, Historical timeline inaccuracy just for the sake of the plot. Angst, betrayal, GORE, feels, slow burn.
Summary: Enemies rise, loyalty is shaken and a new purpose is born.
Disclaimer: Edward "Ned" Low belongs to history ✨
Pt. 4
His men were nowhere to be found, And the sailing time approached. He'd go to Kingston, and then sail up towards the Honduran coast to get a hold of a Spanish brigantine. The wood extracted from the country were surely one the best, after all many of the carpenters used it to repair their ships.
Even though he said two nights the urge to go just sunk in deeper, not because of the mermaid, but rather for safety. He never remained more than 3 days in a same place, not when the Spaniards and English men were hunting and executing pirates, and press ganging the remnants of the crew.
He went to a tavern to get something to eat. He wouldn't waste the chance to try good food, cause once on board fish would turn into his main protein source.
Mostly of his crew were men that just like Mundaca had once said to him, were people that were pushed into a life of piracy due poverty and lack of chances at a modest yet deserving life. Most of them used to be underpaid farmers, workers, common people that none would actually believe to be now pirates and ransackers that preyed on spaniard and english ships.
The Red Eyed Demon had a penchant for attacking the english navies, after all, the man that had killed his biological mother was one of them. In fact, the first thing Miguel oathed to himself to do once he'd turn into a feared pirate, was to plunder and destroy as many english ships he could in name of his mothers.
An english man had killed his mother, an english boat had brought Adia to his old home and it was an english doctor that had left him without hope since he refused to actually give any further aid to his daughter.
With the spaniards he meddled little to nothing, unless they had valuable cargo. Sadly for him, most of the valuable cargo seemed to be slaves. Slaves that whenever he could, would free them, and drop them in the nearest port.
He'd been there, in their tattered shoes and sullied flesh. Some flogging scars were still etched into his back, always reminding him where he came from.
Some of the slaves would stay with him and offer their lives in gratitude. As messed up as their logic was, he wouldn't waste the talents offered to him.
But right now, he couldn't see none of them, but a few passed out in the tavern. The supplies were being loaded into his ship. Flour, a couple of live cattle and farm animals to keep fresh food on board, and of course, grains and  legumes.
He ate a stew, some bread, cheese and rum. He wasn't picky with his food, life at sea supposed a vast array of issues, inanition, dehydration, scurvy and other sickness. As soon as one of his men presented symptoms of incurable disease, he'd put him down and throw him over the plank, even if they had been there for more than six months.
Life at sea was slow, like time had froze. But in land, changes were always happening. And of course he'd adapt to survive.
Right now his food was all that mattered, unbothered by the raucuos carousing around him, he ordered another plate, until his appetite was satisfied. He left a couple of gold coins and headed to his ship. A man however bumped into him, red eyes fixed on him but quickly dismissed him, knowing his conflictive nature.
"Watch your step" Edward Low mumbled as he deepened into the tavern. Miguel left, not really in the mood to give the man the attention he craved.
A few of his crew members were rounded up in the threshold of a hut, they seemed to be discussing but one of them shut up as soon as he saw Miguel walking to his galley.
The rest just watched him with  unreadable expressions on their faces. Their captain, always busy and so reserved, but a good and fair captain nonetheless.
A bit too good at times for their own likings. Specially when he treated slaves as equals.
But none of that mattered as their gazes trailed up behind him, their goosebumps making a presence in their skin as none other than Captain Edward 'Ned' Low waltzed his way towards the dock, in the same direction as Miguel.
They rose and followed Low's little group from a safe distance, watching and ready to jump if needed.
"Oi! O'Hara!" Low called as Miguel stopped, annoyed brows furrowing deeper.
"Mind to share where'd ya'get this... beautiful shiny pearl?"
Hijo de puta (son of a bitch)
His mind cursed, and of course reprimanded himself for not paying enough attention. Edward had been a petty thief his whole life, but pick pocketing was his best attribuition. The bumping back in the tavern was enough for his nimble hands to scourge his pants pockets.
Miguel wasn't really interested in the pearl, he could have it. What actually had pissed him off was the audacity the man, although tall by everyone's standards still seemed small compared to him, had to actually tried and pick pocketed him.
"Merchant back there have more of those." He turned to face him, hulking figure stepping closer, hand stretched towards him with a glacial stare.
"Give it back."
"Didn't know you were into this mermaid nonsense"
The men behind sneered at him, as Low toyed with the pearl with his fingers.
"Do you know what I'd do if I ever get my hands into one of them?"
"Kill them in a horrible way only you know?" Miguel’s face showed nothing but boredom at Low. He had heard about the many and different kind of torture methods he used to get people's information, and even those who surrendered peacefully ended up being treated abominably by him.
Thirty four years, just like himself. Same age, yet different mentality. Same age yet different motivations. Low's was madness and making a name for being a possible psychopath. Miguel's was more purpose oriented, a call that he had attended long time ago.
"You seem to know me, sweetheart" the last word was spat with venom, "Mind if I keep it?"
"Give. It. Back." Miguel seethed, and even still kept a calm attitude. The least he wanted was to cause unnecessary trouble or to draw attention. But Edward surely was making it difficult. The day seemed to have risen with the only purpose of annoying him.
"Just looking, just-" He munched on the pearl trying to prove it's authenticity. Much to Miguel's dismay the pearl was coated in his saliva and sand as Edward spat it in the floor.
Miguel kneeled to pick it up, and it was the perfect chance for Edward to attack, or at least attempt to do so. Miguel connected the first punch in his stomach knocking the air out of him, but  Low wasn't giving up that easily. He connected one on Miguel’s jaw.
Both men seemed to be fighting but in reality, Miguel was just containing him. A hard butt head on his forehead however made him grind his patience to dust. He took Low by the collar of his shirt with one hand to punch him square in his right eye. Low cackled as Miguel bared his teeth at him. Some gasped upon seeing pointy canines underneath his lips.
"Como vuelvas a intentar robarme, me aseguraré de que nunca vuelvas a usar tus manos de nuevo, ¿¡Entendido?!" (If you ever try to rob me again, I'll make sure you're never able to use your hands anymore, understood?)
"Sorry mate, can't understand shite!" He tried to punch Miguel again but his arms only flailed. A click of a gun was pointed at Miguel and it only unleashed a domino effect as everyone pulled out their guns and pointed at eachother. O'Hara crew vs Low's.
A knife however was thrown in between the two. Red silky lace flowing at the end of it; a clear warning to behave.
Sheng Hyun pulled the knife back and glared at the both.
"Edward Low..." Miguel threw him on the floor as he went back to his business. He'd let Sheng to deal with him.
"The fuck y'want!?" Edward spat as he staggered while standing up.
"This is your second warning. We will not tolerate your instigations any further."
One thing everyone knew about Low was that once his derangedness started, nothing but blood could stop it. He lurched for Sheng, that as gracefully and fatal she was, neutralized him with a kick at the last minute, knocking him against the wooden board, Sheng's right foot stretched enough to reach his throat, pressing tightly against him, refraining herself by crushing it completely.
A set of curses in her native language flew out of her mouth as she hurled Edward to the ground. She was small, but vicious and lethal. Exactly why she was part of the council and perfect for her role as the peace keeper. Miguel understood that men like Edward, pushed people's buttons too fast and too rough. It was pathological at this point.
Edward enjoyed torture and the bloodshed, it was rare if ever when he showed mercy.
Miguel’s crew finally gathered up after the ruckus and immediately tended to prepare his ship.
"I'll fucking hunt you down, O'Hara!" Low kicked dirt as he yelled his promises.
"And when I do?! I'll take everything you hold dear away from you, you mixed bastard!"
His eyes settled on Low for a moment, red eyes cold and sneering
"La vida se te adelantó en eso." (Life beat you to it)
Ignoring the ongoing provocations of Edward, Miguel sailed away. Rested with a restocked ship, ready to get the wood for future upgrades.
------
The soiled pearl was washed from all impurity and tucked back into his pants.
"We gotta fish out, Cap!"
"Set the course. Tighten those rigs well cabrones!"
By the position of the sun he'd guess it was around midday, their usual fishing spot would take them another hour to get to. Some of his men still recovered from the hangover and the excess of enjoyment they had the previous night.
The quarter master, Elliot Jackdaw, the few of the english people he actually tolerated, approached to his office.
"Men are quite confused, Cap. Thought you had said two nights, why leaving so soon?"
"A hunch."
"Oh..."
Miguel's intuition often served as a life saver, and the crew soon learned to trust him. And if his intuition deemed necessary to go, he would.
"Right. I'll let them know."
"Elliot?"
"Aye, sir?"
"After restocking, set the course to Honduras. Wood exportation season just begun."
"Aye, Captain."
He remained inside, removed his hat and half tossed it on one of tables nearby. He removed his coat and pulled out a little thin gold necklace, a little shell shaped locket. The only tangible memento he had from his little girl.
The awestruck and dreamy eyes she gave him when he showed it to her for the first time was still burnt into his core memories. Gabriella loved to hear the stories about the mermaids, something her long gone mother had told her in hopes to quiet her down. The locket had been a bit too large on her small neck, but that didn't stop her from wearing it.
It'd be quite the disappointment to tell her, if she'd had the chance of surviving, that they didn't exist. His hands rubbed his face, and then tucked the locket inside his pants as well.
Miguel’s nose flared, exhaling tiredly at his upcoming thoughts. He removed the weaponry off his body. Belts filled with little knives he used to throw at front coming enemies, gone. His gun attached to his hip, removed and placed on his desk. The arm braces loosened and removed, leaving his wrist bare.
His armoring was stripped off his body, the ever human reminder of his flawed and sullied flesh thanks to life's hardships only made his lips to curl softly. He had many scars that were worn proudly, each of them an experience that made him who he was.
Leaning to his chair, he closed his eyes and gave a final shaky breath before letting tiredness to take over him. It was little times like these that allowed himself to be weak enough to be unguarded and physically vulnerable.
---
The clicking of a gun jolted him awake, eyes snapping open as he saw three men standing before him, Elliot in the middle, sneering at him.
"Sorry, Cap, but I think we need a new administration aboard."
Miguel's hands fisted in anger, but knew that retaliating was futile. His weapons were out of reach and his men knew his fighting style. But the two weren't his men, surely had snuck in as the ship was getting restocked.
" Just when I was getting a change of heart about your english scum fellows you just prove to be the worst of them all."
"Get over it, Cap. Pretty sure you'll end up with an english woman."
"Your point is?"
"It's not personal, Cap."
"It feels very personal to me, Jackdaw."
"Too fucking bad. Do you know how much the english and spaniards are offering for your head alone?"
The hollering outside at a bounty fishing made the ship to tilt to the right.
"Captain! Come see this!"
The distant voice of the cook he knew so well called him, and that's when he realized, The mutin had only been planned by a few insiders, it still hadn't reach outside. Or it all could be a trap.
None really was safe from the mistrusting fits that took over Miguel.
He tried to stand on his feet but another clicking of a gun echoed behind him, he was surrounded. He was forced to stand up and pushed out of his quarters, guns aimed to his head.
"Alrit' you fuckin' city rats. There is a new Captain in this fucking ship!"
The men quieted down as they stared both in surprise and in awe as Miguel was brought to the deck, circled slowly bit by bit, by not only the traitors but those who had held a silent grudge against him for quite the time but were patient enough to let a chance like this to rise.
" Set the course for the American shores, we're dropping him to the english, we'd get paid and split the loot."
"And you think an english man betraying his captain is a good example of good faith?"
"Shut yer'gob, you bastard. You know how humiliating is it for us to have a mixed bred slave to boss us around?"
"Then make it quick, cabrón. If I am to die here, don't waste your fucking time and do it!"
"Gladly so, Cap."
As Elliot pulled out his gun, the fishing net, full, wriggled violently, the rusted chain creaked until it snapped under the weight. Several fishes flailed in the air as everyone stared at the bulging fish mountain that moved, as if something was trapped underneath.
Some men were cautious enough to drag with long tridents the fishes above, Elliot however approached, gun in hand. Sidling around the fish mount that was slowly descending in height.
Miguel's hands were contained, shackles adorned his wrist, chains clinked. But his feet remained steady on the floor. Eyes settled on the fish. His heart thumped miles per hour as a collective round of gasps echoed through the ship.
Bit by bit the fish were removed, only to reveal the biggest fins a man had seen so far. A fin that was attached to a long tail, clad in scales that none had seen before; pearly white, green, rose gold scales, intricately dressing it, the rainbow's grandeur making a show of its presence as the light shifted on them. Iridiscense at its finest.
The men marveled at the colorful pearls that seemed etched into the creature's skin. Hair cascading off her shoulders, her hand, donned with a little see through membrane between her fingers. Her torso seemed designed by a superior being as it was adorned and covered with pearls.
Miguel's eyes couldn't widen more cause they'd surely pop out of their sockets.
A mermaid. A mermaid laid before them. A creature he had refused to acknowledge a good chunk of his life, was now there, before him and the crew.
A creature that seemed confused, a beauty that surpassed everything he had know so far. His eyes tried to blink as little as they could, not wanting to miss any detail of the being that seemed to have swam out of a fairy tale and dragged into human twisted fantasies.
Everyone's breath stilled as her eyes settled on Miguel. The courtesan was right, He could see the stars on them, and to be acknowledged by such thing, bestowed his mind with something he couldn't quite explain. None really could.
"H-Hello" Elliot tried as he approached. Miguel swore that the mermaid's irises narrowed into a sharp slit as she saw the weapon, but quickly went back to their full round shape as Elliot put it away.
"I... I won't hurt you. It's ok!"
The mermaid stared at him, eyes tracing his form. Crouching, broad shoulders, pale skin that seemed to burn red under the sun, blue eyes, short beard, prominent nose and dirty blond hair. A gentle grimace in his face.
The Mermaid extended a hand towards him, and the ones that had weapons, pointed it at her. A defenseless face made Miguel to shout an order. To leave her alone. Her gaze once more on him, and his skin crawled.
"Elliot, step away" Miguel ordered but Elliot was gone. Too enthralled by the siren's beauty to actually pay attention to what Miguel was saying. Even worst when the mermaid seemed to caress him.
A soft tune played in his head, a tune that only Elliot seemed to hear as he relaxed. Another collective gasp as the creature slithered to where the quarter master was. Hands cupping his cheek to finally deliver a kiss on his lips. Everyone was in awe, looking at eachother, unsure of what to do. They looked at Miguel that seemed too stunned to actually do something.
His muscles however twitched once the kiss ended. The mermaid licked her lips and smiled, revealing a harrowing sharp smile for teeth. It was the exact moment Miguel knew Elliot was doomed for good. The lovely irises he was initially met with turned into this sharp slit again, face contorted into something wretched, wicked and evil.
Her tail recoiled behind, ready to pounce, the prey was subdued, and her hunger only seemed more evident the more she crawled onto him.
"ELLIOT!" Miguel shouted but it was no avail, the mermaid pounced on him, biting with sharp pronged teeth at his mouth, ripping his tongue off with a bite. The men around them recoiled to themselves, genuinely scared as the creature kept on devouring Elliot.
The man could only wail in pain as chunks and pieces of his own flesh were munched away and devoured. The initial beauty was tarnished by the cruel reality that were behind the romanticism a mermaid portrayed.
Her pearls were smeared in blood, just as her scales. Dainty fingers were now donned with elongated talons that tore flesh and held the prey still.
The iridiscense was now tainted crimson, and to everyone's horror the light in Elliot's eyes was dulling as the being took a hold of his head and munched with a lurid crunch on his throat, finally stealing the vitals from his body.
Even though he was shackled, Miguel took the weapon of one of the traitors and fired at the air, stopping the entity's attack. She snarled at him, only to give an inhuman and shrilling wail, before chomping down on the corpse and dragged it to the border.
"Don't let her escape!" Miguel ordered and the few that remained on his side, dared to throw one of the tridents at her, but missed. Miguel fired again and this time the bullet grazed one of the upper fins, making it bleed, but no matter how much of a ruckus they made, the mermaid's task was seen through.
Talons dug through a man's throat, killing him instantly, blood oozing like a pipe had exploded. It made some men to slip and fall. With a final glance at Miguel, the Mermaid smirked before going back to the sea with a body trapped in her mouth.
Men rushed to peek their heads, carefully, overboard to see if they saw any traces of their old quarter master.
Another splash was heard, as Miguel's tried to keep himself a float.
"Captain!" Some of the men were shot immediately as they tried to save Miguel. Their bodies were thrown over the plank board.
Miguel's eyes could only witness as his ship, a ship that he had worked so hard for, a ship that he named after one of the biggest heartbreaks he had ever experience, the last memory of his skewed father figure, sailed away without him to command, without him to look after it.
Keeping himself a float was harder when his hands were heavy and the constant struggle was wearing him off. His head collided with a loud thud against the moving ship.
His ears didn't hear anything after the hit. All sound was drowned, and his lungs felt a burning sensation, distant heartbeats turned weaker, his blood obscured his sight, nothing but darkness below. Darkness that seemed to pull him closer and deeper into a deadly embrace.
His arms felt caged in a hug, and the sea waves lulled him to sleep.
Fight
The distant cry of his survival instinct thrashed in his mind.
Wake up!
Darkness and calm were way too inviting for him to turn his back on them.
Not your turn yet, Papa
His eyes snapped open. Stars above him, like a distant blanket that refused to fall ontop of him yet. His lungs were no longer burning, even though his head still spinned. His body was drained of any traces of energy.
The soft coming and going from the waves, kept him grounded. Anchored to life. He was alive. Pulled away last minute from death's grasp.
He was on land.
---
Taglist:
@nerdykat @munixumai @raiirai @sarapaprikas-blog @deputy-videogamer @rizahawkeye1380 @littlenyx @marit332 @iz-iplier @mad-hatter-rici @viriexo @obi-mom-kenobi @allysunny @tayleighuh @lishdfish @not-ur-average-fangirl @freehentai @darksidecorner @winteringfalls @ellasarich @eustashh @nyxismoon
@murnsondock @pluviophilis @oooof-ifellforyou @tojismommymilkers00 @plusultrayokai @teacoffeeflavored @ctizu1 @dickfartcheesy @s0lm1n @vonev
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dirtytransmasc · 6 months
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ok but like, Modest!Alicent Hightower au (more modest than she already is) cause I feel like it, it adds ✨layers✨
Alicent who veils her hair during her day to day life, elegant laces and silks adorning her long ginger-brown hair, covering it completely at the Sept.
Alicent who wears dresses with long heavy skirts and always covers her elbows with billowing sleeves.
Alicent who conceals her silhouette with thick shaping garments. they also just helped her back during her pregnancies and taking care of kids (her servants recommended them so she'd have full range of motion and support)
Alicent who was stripped of her modesty, her dignity and sense of security whenever Viserys wanted her. stripped of it by her own father when he sent her to Viserys's chambers in a dress that didn't cover as much as she would have liked, especially when she visited a man with those (silent) instructions.
Alicent who lets her hair down around people she trusts. covering it around Rhaenyra after she abandoned her, a blow to Rhaenyra, a blatant "you hurt me and broke my trust". letting Criston see her hair after he becomes her sworn sword. covering in front of Viserys until he demands she stops. Alicent putting a little makeshift veil on her daughter, who wanted to look like her mum, promising it would protect her from how loud the world was.
Alicent who only trusts her closest servants to dress her, and even then insists on being in a full shift before they can come in.
Alicent who felt stripped bare while giving birth to her children.
little Alicent looking up to her mum who was also very modest, and spending her childhood playing in long skirts.
Alicent who wears shawls and scarves out in public or at events. Criston watches to make sure she remains properly covered. her hands fiddling with the patterns or tassels while she talks to others.
Alicent doing this with her kids:
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Criston offering her his cloak when she's put in bad situations like sudden crowds or outings.
wearing flowy but opaque fabrics during the summers, looking ethereal and goddess-like with her layers skirts and sleeves.
the whole Larys situation being even more sickening.
all 3 of her sons being protective of her modesty alongside Criston, always offering their cloaks to her or standing to block her from the wind or wandering eyes. Aegon holding her veil in place when it's windy, Aemond placing a cloak over her in public, Daeron fiercely defending his mum from lusting glances or lingering stares.
Helaena continuing to veil with her mum when they go out, they love matching veils and trying ornate styles.
Alicent fixing her daughters veil in attempts to get it to stay in on dragon back. it doesn't. but they don't mind the extra bonding time none the less.
gold veils that literally make her look like she's dripping in gold.
tucking her babes in her shawls or holding them against her skirts that are practically swallowing them whole.
Alicent collecting layers. Ornate undergarments that cover her arms in gold and embroidered patterns, some almost like tapestries others more simple. undershirts that cover her neck, with "choker" patterns and sewn in jewels. modest nightgowns and robes made of the softest, most breathable fabrics in existence.
covering her face on holy days/days of importance.
I just have so many thoughts.
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the-nysh · 10 months
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Rewatching Trigun's 98anime (subs this time, being used to the eng dub) since I was curious to note the characters' shifting pronoun usage.
For reference, Stampede Vash always uses the softer, more humble, modest, boyish 'boku' - as expected (like Trimax Vash), even after his glow up in ep12, he still regards himself the same way. While Knives (Nai) exclusively uses the harder, more assertive, masculine 'ore'...ever since he was a little baby, which immediately differentiates them apart, but is...extremely (lmao) edgy of him.
But in the 98anime? Oh my god, it's all flipped around and completely different! Which quite interestingly reveals a lot of contextual nuances to many characters, and quite frankly rewatching in Japanese trying to catch all these things only thoroughly kicked my ass throwing in so many difficult-to-understand, unexpected curveballs; I'm both shook and humbled by what I've heard!
Because 98 Knives refers to himself as 'boku' O____O;; even during his most 'villainous' lines yelling at Vash too. Him having that casual but 'polite' poised dissonance in his voice comes off extremely unnerving;;; when he speaks of horrible things thru such an 'innocent' self-perception like that. (Even Legato uses 'boku' like him! Same in Stampede.) Damn I'm disturbed. He and Vash notably both used 'boku' when they were kids, but Knives in particular never really stopped saying that from their childhoods, so that says a lot about him. (His "did you just shoot me [boku]!?" comes off very uncannily childlike. No wonder Vash freaked out in guilt.)
But 98 Vash? Whoa, he requires a whole damn essay flips around ALL the time, interchangeably using BOTH! :O Often switching pronouns between 'ore' & 'boku' within the same episode, or even as quickly as every other sentence, even towards the same person. Depending on the immediate context/topic of what he's saying and the emphasis on how he's saying it. Via all his posturing, which 'persona' he switches into, his familiarity/humbleness/honesty/trust--even hostility towards certain people, and his mood's silly vs seriousness levels. Often reflective of how determined/confrontational/casual he is vs being walled off (masking) to openly repentant, lost or distressed too - but not always! It's Extremely inconsistent fascinating but confusing!!! Because there's no....fixed 'rules' to his usage. For ex he'll often use 'ore' casually within his own internal monologues to his more bombastic public self-introductions, or even when he's at his most serious in private moments about grave matters, like settling his past during his scar scene with Meryl. Even Eriks!Vash still uses 'ore' when confessing his guilt to Wolfwood about the Fifth Moon! So there feels to be a general preference for using 'ore' when he (internally and externally, both in casual and serious contexts) needs to show his 'determination' - aka being the man (the ideal 'Vash'?) he wants to become.
But then he'll flip around using 'boku' for some of his most exasperatingly fake ✨playful✨ bits when he's kidding and messing around in mock courtesy (bonus: he even uses 'watashi' as a joke for his ridiculously long 'formal' name introduction to Wolfwood).....AND 'boku' will be used for his most sincere humble (polite) conversations back with family members he knows at Home, and when he connects back to his childhood with Rem in his dreams. The Diablo ep is a good example: he uses 'ore' throughout the ep until he reverts to 'boku' after speaking to Rem deciding not to kill, and that humbling shift, like to that of a lost younger boy, makes so much sense. The shift happens again when Eriks!Vash thinks about Rem feeling just as lost: "what should I [boku] do?" And after the tragic incident at Home when he's depressed and masking himself behind his glasses, while quietly reflecting to Wolfwood with a reproachful, "Everyone who touches me [boku] dies." ...Before immediately changing back to 'ore' in the next sentence firming his resolve to face Knives.
But in general it really depends and you have to listen hard (pay close attention) to hear how much contextual teasing, sincerity, irony, genuine respect, or...humbling self-reproach and self-depreciation he uses. Indicative towards how much (or how poorly) he internally regards himself and how he externally presents himself to others, because it changes. All the time. His personal pronouns aren't fixed! ...Basically, I'm just as confused as Meryl (and it really makes narrative sense why she's so confused by him), not knowing which 'persona' is the real him! x'D
...Oh but a really good moment, in ep24 when Meryl pleads at him to be honest with her for once about all the tragedies, he uses 'boku' explaining everything to her about Knives. That's....really good. :O Like umm...him using 'ore' before with her (in the scar scene) kind of erected a subtle barrier when he refused to elaborate further, but using 'boku' so sincerely for her request.....like it..extends her the same humble level of courtesy/trust he'd use towards the 'family' he loves back at Home (+Rem)....but it's so loaded, cause he's being honest but still...distant telling her why he's better off alone. :')) Man...(the aaangst) Oooooh, but then ep25 is very telling too, cause he's mentally lost for the whole ep, always using 'boku' so anguished and self-deprecatingly....until Meryl saves him and he gives her his softest genuine 'boku' yet, after he recovers back to himself donning the red coat again, thanking and assuring her he'll be alright. :'D (Hooray~) Before internally switching back to 'ore' on his final quest setting out alone for Knives. Ep26: he still keeps that distinct assertive 'ore' in front of Knives "I [ore] will survive!" and 'boku' for Rem: "I [boku] will continue to believe in you, but will look to my own [jibun] words for guidance." :')) (Bonus: 'jibun' is added when he philosophically thinks in terms of 'oneself'/'myself' from now on.)
Bonus nuance: while younger Vash may have dependently followed Knives' lead around--back when they both used 'boku' together, older (current) Vash--using 'ore' with him, feels like he's grown to assume the role as the more independent, responsible older brother now, when he finally understands how to put Rem's last words to 'take care of Knives' into practice. :'))
So tl;dr: Vash tends to have a casual leaning preference for using 'ore' in most situations both private and public, but especially for whenever he asserts his determination involving Knives with a confrontational edge. 'Boku' is used exclusively (politely, with genuine deference & care) towards extended family members he loves (like Rem, Brad, Doc, and eventually.....Meryl; using the softest 'boku' towards her I've ever heard. ;.;) And for whenever he humbles himself in distress, feeling lost in turmoil or self-reproach. But it's not set in stone! Since both pronouns can be used sincerely or ironically in jest, for whenever he's feeling silly or playing a bit (donning a mask), easily switching depending on presentation or context too. 98 Vash simply does what he wants! While Meryl screams in confused exasperation!
As for 98 Meryl, she often uses the book-standard, more formal/professional 'watashi' when introducing herself (Stampede Meryl too), and her speech patterns are typically very polite and pleasant to listen to (with many lovely 'desu-wa' sentence finishers.) ...Until she changes to the informal, more feminine 'atashi.' Ex: when screaming at Milly to let her go (to Vash) as the city blew up during the Fifth Moon incident. The raw sincerity in her voice for that change is so...🥺 of her. Note, cause most other girls - from Rem, Milly, younger kids like Lina, to older (but youthful) grandma characters all informally use 'atashi.' So for Meryl to drop her usual formalities when her honest feelings come out ("I [atashi] need to go there!" - to the epicenter where Vash is) means a lot. :')) ...Ah! Cause she slips to 'atashi' again in ep25, in front of Vash (while he uses 'boku' at his most mentally lost and openly wounded state) at his bedside. o///o Oh my... Using 'atashi' again while crying to Milly in regret that she couldn't confess anything yet to Vash on his sendoff. So yes, Meryl's feminine 'atashi' side shows whenever she expresses her honest feelings. :'3
Now 98 Wolfwood is a special case, cause he speaks primarily in Kansai dialect, which is extremely hard for me to understand what he's saying in modified/shortened slang all the time. (Compared to say, Meryl who speaks very cleanly and polite.) I've heard him use 'ore' when offering kids food, the more rural/casual form 'oira' when confessing his turmoil to Milly at his most vulnerable, 'uchi' when talking about 'our orphanage,' 'washi' (the 'old man' form of watashi) when speaking in more formal/aged terms of 'God', to the slang form 'wai' (he casually prefers this one a lot, and Stampede Wolfwood uses 'wai' too, esp when introducing himself to new people, for most of the few eps he's even in, and it makes him sound like...way older than he actually is?) to even 'jibun' when talking about himself with distance in flashbacks. The impression he gives off is like that of someone who's come from a rural/street kid (orphan) background...but who speaks like a chill elder now?? who's aged far too soon for his years. That's my best interpretation of what's happening. (His slang 'wai' even slurs to sound like 'oira,' almost like 'wai-ra' sometimes; gah it's really hard for me to discern, I'm sorry.) Bonus: he teasingly calls Milly 'my honey' in english, while she playfully answers him back with the pronounced 'a-na-ta' (dear), so they def have an inside thing going on. Bottom line, he's very complicated *bangs head on desk* and his accent is too unfamiliar/beyond my meager course level to fully grasp! :'D
To sum up (to the best of my hearing comprehension):
Stampede Vash: always boku, modest and unassuming towards everyone 98 Vash: BOTH ore & boku; not fixed. Casual preference for ore vs more humble courtesy using boku, but it's extremely context/mood/persona dependent, since he can mask & switch for jokes. Has a serious confrontational/determined edge using ore vs Knives--as if Vash becomes the older brother here, but always reserves the softer boku towards Rem and the found family he loves Stampede Knives: always ore, ever since he was a baby; so much edge 98 Knives: boku, coming off unnervingly childlike vs Vash's ore Meryl (both): watashi, but changes to atashi (98) when her honest feelings towards Vash show Wolfwood (both, Kansai dialect): primarily wai, but can use many other forms Legato (both): boku Roberto: ore Milly: atashi, but can mask using watashi when she's not fine Rem: atashi (98) & watashi (Stampede) Stampede Luida: watashi, but atashi when casual with teen Vash Brad (both): ore Dr. Conrad: watashi Stampede Elendira: watashi Stampede Zazie: boku
Now besides the animes, since Trimax is a whole other overwhelming complicated beast, and since I don't have access to check (nor would I even be able to easily read/understand) the Japanese raws, I'd be VERY interested in someone's investigation and breakdown into the manga's pronouns, especially for Trimax Vash, since I've heard that beyond 'boku,' he shifts and evolves throughout his journey too, possibly ending on a very soft wizened, matured 'watashi' that I'd love to hear more!
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celestialtarot11 · 4 months
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More astro notes 🤗🤍
Hey ya’ll! Grab a drink or a snack because this post is juicy 💭☕️ hope ya’ll enjoy!
I’ve noticed Sagittarius and Jupiter placements don’t often follow higher education, and in fact natives with this placement drop out. It’s as if they are meant to expand outward, and not stay shackled to a capitalist society 👏 as they should honestly. These natives work hard from a young age especially, they’re all about getting that bag. As they get older they get efficient with making money. These natives are always seeking to be efficient.
Venus in the first probably grew up around a modest family, a family that praised modesty. Depending on the aspects, the native embraces this or rejects it entirely. Venus in the 1st is here to find themselves ultimately. They are their own soulmate, and realizing this truth will help them to give to their partner/friendships 🤗 such a sweet native. But this native has the tendency to conform and fall into codependent tendencies.
Mars in the 1st…have ya’ll had leg injuries in your life? Someone I knew with this placement has a massive leg injury from work. Be careful! Mars in your chart indicates surgery/injuries. Where it falls in your chart will tell you where you’ll have injuries or surgery, and when it’ll happen.
Leo, pisces & gemini in someones big three makes for a very interesting person. Elusive, yet known. Out there yet hidden. Talking to them one on one creates pressure on this individual, because there is that feeling of wanting to run, but stay open. This native constantly battles hiding and opening up. If ya’ll don’t put down that wine glass and take off that trench coat-😤 this ain’t mission impossible. Anyway, good luck trying to get anything out of this individual 🤗 if they share to you anything, they trust you.
Libra men…please stop comparing yourself to your partners. If you’ve had a history with people looking down at you, it’s understandable why you’d continue this cycle. But if ya’ll want that commitment, that relationship, see your partner in a different light and yourself included. You can’t look at yourself the same way those people never saw you. Your partner does not want to repeat that hurt (that’s if you’re in a mutually healing relationship, not an unhealthy one) Your fears can easily distance you from your partner.
Wherever pluto aspects in the natives chart is where personal information is out in the open. For example someone I know with pluto in the 10th aspecting venus in the 4th, family often tried to separate her relationship, and was the cause of significant problems. Many people knew of the relationship and spread gossip like fire, even after the breakup people still bring him up. And it happens when it’s not even related to her, they’ll find any excuse to bring her ex up in any conversation/argument. Pluto in the 10th can signify having a relationship with the boss or coworker which eventually turns public. These natives need to be careful with where pluto aspects their planets! ✨🌀
Alternatively, Pluto in the 10th is often read as the native having an infamous career, or personal information affecting their career. While that may be true for some, look closely to the aspects and which planet its touching, and which house. Again, Pluto in the 10th touching venus in the 4th, the 4th house ruling family, that’s where a lot of the natives issues were gossiped about. Career place went by fine, only issue was putting herself out there as she liked to keep herself hidden.
Another example of Pluto bringing personal information out to the public: Pluto aspecting the natives sun. Issues with the father were widely known, because the pluto person had the father moving in and our constantly of their apartment. The father had no financial support for himself. Sun in the 3rd house trine Pluto in the 2nd, this persons travel plans were an indicator to others that they were sitting on a pile of cash. I mean, flying to these places? Damn, you must be rich. And the natives job included flying out to different locations. This caught peoples eye, and it turned into jealousy. Eventually, the native with this placement had a massive injury at work (mars 1st house) and it lead to a huge financial scare because of the debt (pluto 2nd house) . Because of the sun trine pluto aspect, everyone did not laugh at him, rather they couldn’t understand how he was still there and doing well despite the injury. Somehow to others, he was still carrying on. People put him on a pedestal shortly after the injury, and he couldn’t return to work because he knew his coworkers would constantly talk to him about the injury, and want to know every detail. In a way, people idolized his bravery and strength. So again, look to your pluto placement, aspects, other planets, houses everything! 😤
Thank ya’ll so much for reading 💗☺️ hope this was informative and cool! Please feel free to reblog, comment and like!
Book a reading with me here 🤍
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sunshine-and-moonshine · 11 months
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Thick!Fem!Survivor in a Bikini
Requested: Yes! [love your works. never stop doing those please.. also just see your request are open so.. i want to request for ghostface, the legion (frank and julie), wesker, the trapper and the doctor react to their fav fem!survivor in like a bikini outfits (also if you could make her have a big boobs or maybe like some sort of chubby body then i would love it even more :))]
Warnings: ✨Spice✨, FEM!Reader
A/N:
Ghostface
Pictures. So so many pictures, each one more perfect than the last in his eyes. And there was never enough, no matter the fact that he had so many that his card read as full. Good thing he had a spare on him! This one empty of any photos, though soon to be full as well. He’ll waste away the whole trial following you around, his hands running along the thick curves of your body whenever he can get close enough without you noticing him. But even if you did notice him, it’s not much of a deterrent. Did you really think you could show up in front of him while wearing that and just get away?
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Frank
Drooling. Drooling SO much. He’s staring the second he sees you, immediately reaching out to grasp your thick waist in his bandaged hands as he presses his chest into your back, his mask on the ground as he bites and sucks on the back of your neck, grinding into your plush ass through his jeans. Frank is such a sucker for big girls, it makes him look stupid and by the end of this trial you will be sitting on his face, your thick thighs smothering him to death. Legit doesn’t even care if you actually kill him while doing it, since he’ll just be resurrected by the entity anyways. He hopes.
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Julie
Much like Frank, Julie is drooling, wanting to bury her face between your thighs and just suffocate. But Julie is just a tad bit more subtle than Frank. She’s not just outright groping, she’s fingers trailing softly down your spine, plucking at the strings of your bikini. She’s not deep bites and bleeding scratches, she’s a whisper in your ear, carrying the most sinful promises. She and Frank are two people that compliment and contrast each other perfectly in almost every way. Brawn and Brain, Force and Manipulation, Fast and Slow. She’s likely to invite you to share both her and Frank’s bed, once she’s done making you ride her fingers in this trial.
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Wesker
Wesker is definitely surprised to see you in such an outfit at first, staring you down from a distance, slowly getting closer to you, taking in the shape of your body from every angle he can see, and once he gets close enough? He can’t help but let ouroboros wander over your skin, slipping under your scant clothing, between your thighs. Even when you’re crying and shaking from everything he’s doing to you. How could you ever expect him to resist when you just looked so good like that? Like a present just for him.
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Trapper
N I C E. You can’t look at Trapper and tell me he doesn’t like thick girls. He fucking LOVES thick girls, remembers how he used to trail after daughters of the miners with chests so thick they almost popped out of their modest gowns, hips so thick that they showed through all the layers they wore. Part of him enjoyed indulging in thoughts of how it was money that his family gave their fathers that kept their bellies so full, kept them as thick as they were, their healthy pallor. He’s reminded of those thoughts as he looks at you. Granted, you’re not so modestly dressed as them but he actually likes it, likes the way they scant fabric clings to your skin. But what’s even better is when he rips it off you, clutching you to him even as you squirm, feeling along your curves, between your folds, cupping your full breasts. Yes, he really enjoyed this.
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Doctor
Very bold of you to assume that the Doctor didn’t carefully plan this all out, to the very last detail. Down to convincing the Entity that yes, the bikini was necessary, and that no, he definitely didn’t have anything particularly heinous on his mind. Not that she believed that at all, but he had been doing particularly well in trials and she thought he deserves to be rewarded. Which is how you ended up Adrianna Imai’s bed (she was going to KILL you in all your future trials with her), The Doctor’s hands emitting little pain-pleasure sparks as they roamed your skin, snapping at the strings of your bikini while emitting his usual maniacal giggles.
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hazelfoureyes · 17 days
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going off anon to say . i am speechless you have rewired my brain i don't even know HOW you did it but i am a different person after reading that absolute masterpiece . thank you mighty goddess of alastor smut
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In Tokyo I was called the “thotphet”, Thot+Prophet, for my modest harem of men around the city. This—— this is so much more satisfying, an evolution I didn’t anticipate. 🥺✨
click below to check the holy writings
•─────⋅☾Alastor Smut☽⋅─────•
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wanderingelvis · 1 year
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Sparkly Little Thing ✨🧚🏻 | A Yandere!Elvis fic
Summary: Reader isn't dumb per se, she's just sweet but she's also the latest signing on Elvis' label. Elvis just wants to protect her, and make sure that she won't fall into the same traps that he did during the earlier years of his career - even if that means taking advantage of her.
Pairings: Late 60s/Early 70s!Elvis x Naive F!Reader
🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻 Warnings: Soft Yandere themes, emotional manipulation, parental abuse, potential headspace regression - if I've missed out any, please send me a message, I'll update accordingly.
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Tomorrow would be your first day as the latest signing to RCA and your whole life had turned upside down. You'd come from a pokey little town, out in the country, far, far away from the dazzling lights and hustle of Los Angeles.
You grew up in a modest, converted barn with your mother, where you both got by with the basics. You were perfectly content with the basics, you liked the basics - the little lawn that backed onto the barn and the chickens you both kept, the porch that you'd sit on to read your books in the daytime, and watch stars during the nighttime. 
 Your mother had always wanted more though, more money, more notoriety and more everything - and you were her ticket to that. She'd dragged you to auditions throughout your childhood, neglecting your education and your personal development to prioritise photoshoots for television advertorials or small background roles in a television show. Naturally, you never saw a dime, but why would you when you were a child? But the money that your mother promised to set aside for you as you grew up, would still never appear. 
Still, you'd hit the jackpot after wowing executives from RCA after a rendition of 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' from The Wizard of Oz, a movie that you'd actually never, even seen. Your mother sat there, her smile was wide and her eyes were filled with dollar signs, as the executives told you that you'd be doing some backing singing for some other artists as you would be trained to grow into their latest sparkly little thing, producing your own records and performing small shows.
You never wanted to be famous - in fact, you were perfectly content with just sitting in your front lawn with your books and cats, contently watching life go by without anyone knowing your name. Obviously, you were feeling a little nervous about the whole thing. Actually, you were feeling very nervous.
You had a friend from home who was an integral part of the label. Peggy worked on the sound systems and was a little bit older than you were. She'd come from the same small town as you, in fact, she'd grown up just down the same street as you. She was almost like a big sister to you really, she'd always been protective of you and loved you dearly. Your mother knew that too, and Peggy was the reason you'd even bagged an audition.
Your mother had written to her, practically begging her to talk to her boss, which Peggy was happy to do as she knew you were a talented girl. In fact, it was Peggy that took you to your first ever grown up party, one that one of the label executives was hosting at their large villa.
"It's okay, Y/N. You look adorable! Stop your frettin', will ya?" Peggy laughed, batting her hand at you, who was just trying to smooth out any creases and crinkles in your dress. You frowned. You felt like you looked silly, you loved your outfit but you were worried about wearing it to a real grown up party, full of movie stars and singers that you admired and you felt like you were going to stick out like a sore thumb.
The party was bustling, the smell of spilled champagne and cigar smoke consumed the rooms and it was all a little loud for you, but you loved it. You were in awe of it all, the curious little thing that you were.
You and Peggy mingled with the other guests for a while, well, actually Peggy chatted away to the fancy looking people whilst you smiled nervously, not saying a word whilst looking down a double and triple checking your dress looked okay.
"Honey, c'mere. I need'ta go in the drinks room with my friend Tommy, 'kay? I need ya to stand guard for me? Not let anyone in? Can you do that for me honey?" Peggy asked you. She didn't want you to wander off into the sordid party, but she could equally use someone to just make sure her time with the cameraman wasn't to be interrupted. 
"Sure can Peggy! I'll make sure no-one comes in! Promise!" You said eagerly, nodding along with her. She smiled at you, squeezing the top of your arm before taking Tommy's hand and he lead them into the drinks room, giggling. 
 You quietly stood by the door that was tucked away a little. You could see a long corridor near a stairwell and lots of passersby. You saw some people you'd seen from your audition and tours around the label, but you didn't run to say hello, even if you'd liked to. No, you had a very important job and that was to make sure Peggy was going to have a nice and uninterrupted time with her friend Tommy. 
 You looked down at your shoes, furrowing your brows when you noticed that they were a little scuffed and more worse for wear than you'd like. You were at a big Hollywood party for goodness sake and here you were with shoes that were nearly falling apart.
You - well, your mother - hadn't been paid yet so you weren't exactly in a position to be buying new, shiny, things even if you'd like them. You frowned and chewed your lips as you looked down on the shoes, trying to work out how you could neaten them up so they'd look a little more presentable. As your mind was busy focusing on your shoes, you were snapped out of your thoughts by a deep voice and two large shadows appearing to loom over you.
"Move out of the way, hon." A short, clearly agitated man, said to you. "No, no! You can't go in there!" You said, trying quickly to get between the door and the two men - particularly the shorter one at the front.
"Get outta the way, kid. Elvis can do whatever he wants." The short, little man grunted as the two stood tall over you. The man, who you quickly realised was perhaps the most famous man on the planet right now, and definitely the most important person on the label, was the Elvis Presley.
Elvis stayed silent, grinning smugly, down at you, who he thought was awful cute.
"Nuh-uh! My best friend, Peggy, she's in there! She said no-one can go I and I gotta keep guard for her so you can't go in, even if you are Mr Presley! I'm real sorry, I-I just made a promise." You stammered, not exactly making eye contact. You felt extremely nervous and cornered.
The smaller man, practically seethed at your words. "Look here kid, I don't give a damn if you've made a promise, we're going in, now move!" He said, forcefully grabbing your arm in a tight grip, making you yelp and stumble over your own two feet at the jolt, falling forward directly into Elvis Presley's chest.
"Goddamnit Billy, you hurt the little lady. Get outta here, go find me another cigar, goddammit." Elvis growled, wrapped his arms around you, whilst you tried to find your feet, your cheeks scarlet red with embarrassment at the scene. "You okay there, little one? Sorry about Billy, he gets it into his head that he's more important than he actually is. Are you hurt, sweet thing?" Elvis asked softly, once Billy had turned a corner.
"Um -" You stuttered. "I'm real sorry. I should've let you in." You said quietly, your eyes glossy.
"What the fuck is going on out here?" Peggy snapped, as the door flung wide open as did her eyes when they landed on the Elvis Presley rubbing circles on your back - a sight that she never thought she'd see. "Jeez Louise." She sighed.
She and Elvis knew each other, Peggy often fixed sound problems for a lot of Elvis' recordings and they got on well. However, Peggy knew, just like everyone who'd been around at RCA for long enough, that no-one would dare to mess with Elvis. Elvis could be the most charming, charismatic man in the room, and he always was, but everyone knew that he got what he wanted and he would do anything to get it - and he could be scary.
"Oh hey Pegs. Your friend here was determined to let you to your privacy and Billy got a bit... well... he got a bit like Billy, didn't he?" Elvis chuckled with a slightly fed up tone in his voice.
"You okay, flower?" Peggy asked you in a softer tone.
"Uh-huh, was just bein' stupid." You muttered, suddenly shy at the attention that Peggy and Elvis were giving you.
"No honey, you were just doin' what I asked, I shouldn't have put you in that position. What about me and you go get a drink?" Peggy suggested.
Elvis watched as Peggy looked back at whichever fella she had been schmoozing with, he knew that she'd been having a good time and that her cute, little friend could sure give him a good time too.
"Pegs, you go and have your fun, I'll get this little lady a drink." Elvis said.
"No, I'm sure you're real busy anyway Elvis, besides, I told her Momma I'd keep an eye on her." Peggy said.
"It really ain't a problem, Matty has been chasin' me like one of 'em rabid dogs trying to get me to sing for everyone so he can boast to all his friends that he had me do it at his party." Elvis said. It was true, but Elvis also just wanted to get to know you better. "Now, I'll get her a drink, and you can get back to that fella of yours." Elvis chuckled. He'd always liked Peggy.
"Non-alcoholic." Peggy warned Elvis firmly, who nodded.
Elvis extended his hand for you to take. You glanced at it and looked up at Elvis, who just laughed a little at you. "Ain't gonna bite you, honey." He insisted with a smile.
And in that moment, you decided to trust him.
Elvis took you upstairs, where it was a little less crowded and little more quiet. Elvis spotted you as soon as you walked in with Peggy, he'd kept an eye on you and it wasn't until Peggy had finally left you alone that Elvis decided it'd be the perfect time for him and Billy to head over to you, all under the guise of wanting a drink - that's what he'd told Billy.
He'd noticed you jump a little every time a bottle of champagne was popped, or someone hollered a little louder than usual. You were a skittish little thing. He'd also noticed how you were relentless in trying to smooth out the pleats on your pretty dress and how it was so obvious that you kept comparing your dress to all the other women that were at the party. As Elvis watched you from the other side of the room earlier, he'd noticed that you were growing increasingly insecure at your appearance at the party.
But it was understandable, you looked more conservative than the rest - you looked virginal and Elvis could tell from a mile away. You didn't exactly look like a woman, you looked like a girl, like a little deer in headlights and completely out of place, even if you so desperately wanted to be there and fulfil your mother's dreams. 
Elvis had observed how you'd picked up one some snickering from other women at the party at your appearance, making you feel shy and embarrassed. You really did like your dress, you thought it was so pretty but you realised it wasn't exactly the right thing to wear to a record label party and the feeling made you very self-conscious.
 Elvis lead you to a quieter bar and you watched as he greeted and joked around with the barman, it was like he knew everyone at this party. He radiated an almost scary energy as you watched him, he had more charisma in a single hair on his head than most people you'd met had in their whole body. You could see why he was considered the King of Rock 'n' Roll.
"I'll take a Gin Rickey and a fruit punch for the little lady, hold the alcohol." Elvis said cooly before continuing to talk to the barman about a previous party they must've been at. 
"One Gin Rickey and a Virgin fruit punch, comin' right up." The barman said, getting to work on making your drinks.
You stayed quiet by Elvis' side, feeling incredibly small and insignificant next to him, but the feelings were intertwined with those of comfort, no-one would give you any nasty looks for your dress if you were stood by Elvis, no-one would be looking at you if he was there, and you didn't mind that.
You were brought out out of your thoughts by cold glasses slamming on the wooden bar, one being placed directly in front of you. Your eyes widened at the drink, you'd never had a drink like this, it looked beautiful. 
"Wow..." You whispered quietly to yourself, your doe eyes trained on the tall glass that had a cherry in it along with a slice of pineapple and had different colours layered in the drink.
"Impressive, ain't it?" Elvis chuckled, sipping his drink. You fluttered your eyes up to him, giving him a bashful smile, still a bit confused at why Elvis was so attentive to you. You quietly nodded in agreement, offering Elvis a shy smile. "How about we go somewhere a little quieter, doll?" Elvis suggested, placing his large hand on the small of your back, guiding you to a large, unoccupied couch in a quiet corner.
Elvis consumed the couch, dominating all the space around him to the point that he was intimidating yet inviting. He placed and arm on the back of the furniture, allowing space for you to sit by him.
You were nervous, naturally, this was the biggest star on the lot, and if your mother knew you were sat beside the Elvis Presley, she could quite possibly faint. Your heart rate picked up a little, knowing that even though your mother wasn't here, there was an unbearable mountain of pressure on your little shoulders to impress him.
But you didn't need to feel any pressure because Elvis was already obsessed with you.
You perched on the edge of the couch, holding your ice cold drink with both hands, the cool droplets making your hands wet but you didn't really know what else to do. Elvis could see that you were tense and nervous, but he didn't need to rush you, he could play the long game.
"That's a pretty lil' dress you got, ain't it sweetheart?" Elvis observed and your brows furrowed. You liked the dress a lot - it was the only one you had, but Elvis was Elvis, your tatty little dress was hardly impressive. But, Elvis was the first and only person to give you a compliment all night on the outfit that you'd really tried hard with, and that meant something to you.
"Really? You like it?" You said softly, your fingers delicately tracing the hemline of the skirt, being carefully not to cause and creases or mess up the pleats.
"Mhmm." Elvis hummed, leaned all the way back on the sofa as opposed to you, who was practically hanging off the edge of the front of the couch. He could only see the side of your face and you couldn't see his at all, unless you moved your whole body, but you were too scared to face him just yet.
"It's my only party dress." You told him quietly, your eyes still trained on the skirt, though you could feel Elvis' eyes trained on you. "Well, um, it's not really like the other dresses at this party." You said, your insecurity and innocence shining through.
"You're right, it ain't, it's prettier." Elvis commented, knowing the remark would draw you to him.
In some kind of twisted way, he didn't mind that other women at the party had snickered at your outfit. Elvis knew the little babydoll dress would make you look inexperienced and not fit in with the crowd, but he still thought you were the most angelic little thing he'd seen at any of these parties. Had other people at the party actually have been nicer to you, maybe you wouldn't have stayed so close to Elvis' side. Elvis revelled in the fact that you were feeling down, so that he could be the one to bring you back up again.
You turned your head to look behind you, staring at him to check if he was being serious, and oh boy he was. You blushed and chewed a little on your lip, taking in the words.
He was kinder than you thought he would be. You'd heard lots about Elvis Presley, but here he was, practically babysitting you for Peggy when he could be anywhere with anyone.
You were a bubbly, outgoing little thing who loved making friends but Elvis sure did you make you nervous. It wasn't just his status as the King of Rock 'n' Roll but his whole demeanour exuded a dominance and power that was overwhelming, causing you to be a little more shy and reserved than you normally would be - even if you did desperately want to be his friend, he'd been nicer to you than anyone else at the party.
Naturally, it wasn't the first time that Elvis had made a girl go all quiet and shy but it was a rare occasion. Anyone would've thought that many girls would become shy and intimidated by him but in reality, most of the women he met were adoring fans and women at the label that knew they had one chance with him so would throw themselves at him.
"So you're Peggy's friend huh? Or little sister?" Elvis asked.
"Oh, um, no Peggy's not my sister but I always used to wish she was, and um, I guess she is sorta like a big sister! We're friends, she used to live on the same street as me and Momma and we grew up together, she's kinda like my best friend 'spose." You told Elvis fondly, you absolutely idolized and adored Peggy. "She's real cool," You giggled angelically, making Elvis' heart rate pick up at the sound.
"You here visitin' her then, doll?" Elvis asked as he watched you shake your head with a soft giggle as you revealed to him that you were the latest signing to RCA.
You began to slowly open up to Elvis, babbling on about how you were actually very nervous about being at RCA and all you wanted to do was make your Momma proud, and Peggy too. Elvis nodded along, humming at the appropriate times to show he was listening as you answered all of his many questions. 
The minutes turned into hours and you began to feel totally comfortable in Elvis' presence, he still intimidated you, there was no denying that, but equally, he was making every effort to make you feel relaxed and to make you trust him.
Eventually, Peggy found the pair of you, you were now sat much closer to Elvis, curled up on the big couch with your fifth drink.
"There you are flower! Havin' a good time?" Peggy beamed.
"Oh yes! Look at my drink! It's a fruit punch without alcohol, what was that word, um, the word that the barman called it?" You asked Elvis, looking for his help.
"Virgin, honey." Elvis said cooly.
"And it was so good Peggy! D'ya wanna try?!" 
"No honey, we gotta get you home! You got your first proper day tomorrow!" Peggy said.
A little yawn escaped your lips, the sleepiness and exhaustion from the overstimulating party taking over your small body. Elvis and Peggy both watched fondly as you rubbed your eyes with your balled up fists, making the mascara that Peggy had applied for you smudge ever so slightly.
"Now, I think it's definitely time to go home and into bed, flower." Peggy smiled, smoothing out a stray strand of hair of yours.
A pout formed on your plump lips at the words, you'd been having such a fun time with Elvis, you really didn't want it to end. "Oh Peggy, Elvis was gonna tell me about his first day at RCA and I really wanted t'hear it, can we stay for the story? Please?" You said with those bush baby eyes that anyone would find it near impossible to refuse, but Peggy managed.
"Not tonight, hon, you know I made a promise to ya Momma to have you back home before 1am." Peggy smiled.
"I know." You mumbled in defeat with a hint of sadness, you knew Peggy as just doing her best by you even if you did want to stay and spend all night talking to your new found friend, Elvis. 
"Pegs is right darlin', you don't wanna be all sleepy and yawnin' on ya first day, do ya baby?" Elvis chided, leaning over to comfort you by rubbing gentle circles on your back, which just made you feel all the more drowsy.
"Nuh-uh," You agreed cutely.
"Say goodnight and goodbye to Elvis, Y/N." Peggy instructed as you and Elvis rose from the couch.
You didn't really hesitate in wrapping your arms around Elvis' torso as he towered over you, the height difference appearing to be quite noticeable. You usually wouldn't be so forward as to hug somebody that you'd only met a couple of hours ago but there was something inviting and comforting about Elvis that you craved. 
Elvis reciprocated your hug, cuddling a little and chuckling at your sweet action. 
"Am I gonna see you again?" You asked nervously, blushing vulnerably.
"'Course baby, you're comin' t'see my studio and trailer remember?" Elvis said, reminding you of one of the interactions in your long conversation with the man where he offered to show you a tour of his recording studio and his trailer that you eagerly accepted without much hesitation.
 Peggy watched the interaction between you, her little childhood friend and the most famous man in the world. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she didn't exactly like what she was witnessing.
"'Kay," You giggled adorably. "Buh-bye Elvis." You said, taking Peggy's outstretched hand. 
"Bye baby." Elvis said fondly, watching as Peggy promptly led you out of the room and away from him, but not before you managed to turn back and wave goodbye to him enthusiastically.
Two things were certain as you left the party: 
1. Your first grown up party had been a success.
2. Elvis was obsessed with you.
🧚
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sloanesallow · 2 months
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give you my wild
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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.
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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.
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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.”
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srbachchan · 3 months
Text
DAY 5799
Jalsa, Mumbai Jan 2/3, 2024 Tue/Wed 6:28 AM
🪔 ,
January 03 .. birthday wishes to our Ef and greetings to all ..
Ef Himanshu Srivastava .. Ef Nandkeshor Dattatreya Paatil .. Ef Omnia from Egypt 🇪🇬 .. Ef Anuradha Raheja from Madurai .. and Ef Megha VJ from USA 🇺🇲 ..
.. ✨
🌹
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Babuji .. a prominent member of the Freedom Fighters for Independent India .. and how his modest home was opened for secret meetings and a place to hide, for the freedom fighters ..
In one of his conversations with me he did describe how the great freedom fighter Chandrashekhar 'Azaad' had sought refuge at his home and remained rolled up in a 'bistar band' .. बिस्तर बंद .. the 'HoldAll' of my times, a canvas type rolled packaging with straps to tie it up, inside which was laid a mattress, pillows, your shoes and other essentials for travel .. all then rolled up and tied in leather straps, which then became an essential baggage element during travel .. it would and was opened up by releasing the straps, unrolling it and viola, a ready made bed - mattress pillows and all .. open it up on the bed or floor or a train berth .. most convenient and the most important baggage material for travel .. well on train and cars and bus travels .. until the airplane arrived as the more, now common mode of travel ..
So 'Azad' remained rolled up in the 'holdall' - a most convenient and descriptive word coined for this kind of baggage essential - and secretly spent a night there at Babuji's home .. rolled up in a holdall !!
The dedication and will of the freedom fighter ! Incredible !!
Chandrashekhar 'Azad' later took on the British forces, a large contingent, in the famous Allahabad park, then known as Alfred Park, alone, hiding behind a tree, firing bullets from his pistol , until when his ammunition was exhausted and when he felt he would be caught, he ended his life behind that tree, by shooting his last bullet .. at himself .. not wanting to give himself up to the British ..
The park has now been renamed in his honour .. The Chandrashekhar Azad Park ..
I spent a large amount of time at this park, for picnics etc., and this was where the popular Allahabad Flower Show used to be held, where I went with Ma .. she won several cups for Best Garden, and Best Flower, the rose, competition !
I remember seeing that famous tree, behind which Azad took shelter and fought the British contingent ..
The park was a large expanse of green and flowers and trees right almost in the centre of the city .. a canopied structure in the middle of the park, was inhabited by a Band, every Sunday, playing old tunes of the time ..
The park also had a most well kept grass tennis court, where I saw some great International players during their tournament, organised by the Allahabad Civic authorities .. I cannot remember their names .. was too young for that .. but they were from Britain, and some European countries , I think ..
They were invited for a tea reception at Justice Mootham's residence, the then Chief Justice of the Allahabad High Court ..
If my memory does not fail me .. Justice Mootham ! yes that name is correct in memory ..
7 :00 AM
a bit misleading the time , for I have been up since 4 .. loitering about in my room, nursing a muscle pulled back in spasm, unable to sleep or rest .. so a selective spray, that boasts of 'pain relief' within minutes - they all do - was generously applied and ..
And ..
Well, the discomfort remains .. ahahaha ..
🤣🤣🤣
The greetings of the New Year, the greetings for the Birthday have all been overwhelmingly large, and this has provided an enormous amount of space occupation on the mobile .. which as I try to address, is becoming a most arduous task ..
SO ..
may I just acknowledge all that have sent their wishes and greetings here and express my inadequacy in making personal responses ..
PLEASE ..
my gratitude then and my love for this ..
❤️
Laziness persists .. and that induces a temperament , which is difficult to describe ..
The absence of routine may sound odd, but routine puts and gathers the body in a way that keeps it going .. else , one never has a solution as to what can be done to occupy time .. and several essentials loose their essentiality !
Making sense ..
No ..
Well then too bad ! 🥹
Was going to suggest, you get lazy to experience and endorse my words, but that would be so ethically incorrect ..
Hence its a wish for the effervescent day ahead .. and my love 😍
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Amitabh Bachchan
PS : I was right .. 👇🏽
Orby Howell Mootham
Sir Orby Howell Mootham (17 February 1901 – 19 July 1995) was a British lawyer, legal writer, and judge who was the Chief Justice of the Allahabad High Court from 1955 to 1961, the third-last British judge to serve in India.
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dairy-farmer · 2 months
Note
The caped community finds out Tim is a meta by virtue of ✨something I'm too lazy to think up✨. His power? Tim can choose when he's gonna be pregnant. Like a duck that can prevent unwanted fertilization. It becomes this thing in the caped community (and rogues who somehow found out) where they try to fuck Tim and get him pregnant. The problem isn't fucking Tim. Turns out Tim is quite the slut. The problem is that he doesn't want to get pregnant. It's like a ginormous dick measuring competition that no one can seem to win. And then one day, they find out Tim is pregnant. The baby daddy? Some random civilian Tim met at a bar.
On Tim's part, he would love to get pregnant. He just doesn't want to carry any babies with a meta gene (he does NOT want to know if those babies can develop superpowers inside his womb and he's not eager to try it out) or carry the baby of someone with as many deep-seated mental issues like the bats (he read somewhere that babies can inherit depression and anxiety and have worse issues. His babies are about to get his, he does NOT want to get them double more). It left him with a very, very narrow pool of sperm donors. Good thing sex with these people are great.
-🦆
😍😍😍😍 tim's power being built-in birth control!!!! and tim being very logical and focused on who he wants to father his baby. because tim loves sex, he loves it A LOT despite his more...modest reputation, some might even say prudish.
but just because tim is willing to fuck a whole manner of people doesn't mean he wants them to knock him, despite how often that seems to be a fantasy of the many people he lets fuck him. sex is one thing but a baby? that's something tim does not take lightly.
before tim had been born his mom and dad had a pure bred show dog as a pet. her name had been biscuit and her picture had been higher up on the mantle piece than tim. tim had heard all about her growing up and he'd also heard about how other competitors in the show dog scene had tried striking deals with tim's parents to breed their dogs with biscuit.
"but it's not that simple timmy," his dad would tell him. "you can't just let any stud mount the bitch, otherwise that's how you get bad pups."
bad pups, like pups who didn't like to listen, who had bad temperaments, who inherited dispositions to diseases, and worst of all- pups who were ugly.
it'd been the same reasoning his parents used when they chose a sperm donor to have tim. tim supposed it was that "parent" who he had to blame for his meta abilities of being able to choose who impregnates him. he supposed it made sense they were a sperm donor since if tim had a sort of hyper awareness of his reproductive organs then it was likely they did to. after all, it was how he was able to stop his period without having to go on any medications. it was just a matter of reabsorbing the egg that wanted to descend back into his system.
so that's what tim does. he refuses to present the seas of ejaculate in his womb with a nice little egg to fertilize because he can tell they wouldn't be suitable. tim can 'feel' out the genetic material in him. can tell which sperm contains the right genes to be born a meta human (approximately 75%). can tell which ones will result in phenotypes like blonde hair or brown eyes. he can detect genetic predispositions for disease contained within them.
mental illnesses like depression, anxiety, addiction, and even bad temperaments like anger. diseases like pku, sickle cell, and cancer.
tim isn't perfect either. he has an increased risk of bpd and colon cancer, a higher chance of developing diabetes, a predisposition to vision problems and cavities. that's not even mentioning the actual problems he has.
tim's ptsd, depression, and naturally elevated cortisol levels from being so stressed all the time might have an impact on the fetal brain development.
and even though tim can't control that he can still mitigate the risk.
tim has already carefully selected a handful of eggs from his ovaries with the lowest risk and is carefully watching over them, keeping them safe until he finds a perfect genetic donor father.
which...tim is keeping his hopes realistic. the father likely won't be a cape because even if they don't have inherited issues, their accumulated issues will likely leak into the baby. plus tim doesn't like the idea of his baby having another parent that could just swing by and bother them. no, tim would much rather prefer a stranger, preferably a one night stand who would have no rights or ideas about his baby.
but until that happens tim has a large pool of willing participants to fuck him even if he wouldn't consider using their genetic material. and that's how it is. until tim has a business trip in st. paul minnesota and meets someone at a fancy lounge downtown.
not overly tall but a decent height, a nice musculoskeletal structure, a nice face, not pushy, sweet laugh.
it's after they have sex and are lazily making out in bed that tim realizes he's hit the genetic lottery jackpot.
no history of mental illness, at all. no elevated risks for diabetes, cancer, or a whole host of diseases. tim's genetics have a slight disposition for alcoholism but the donor is a rare drinker and doesn't smoke. no cardiovascular disease issues, low chance of allergy to pharmaceuticals, all blood, skin, eye, muscle, and tissue disorders appear to be low risk, and the only risk for autoimmune disease comes from tim. his donor even has the right genes for his babies to have straight teeth and clear skin through their adolescence unlike tim who had been forced to liberally use zit cream and braces throughout middle school.
yeah tim has hit the jackpot. he's so excited he gets horny again.
the donor is already more than tim ever dreamed of and the genetic material he already has is more than enough for him to get pregnant.
but could tim be blamed for wanting to widen the pool even more and give his baby the best of the best?
tim rides his donor hard and fast, bouncing and trying to thank the father of his future child for this gift with every whip of his hips.
he'll be coming back for more. all of his children will need to be fathered with this person because there's no way tim can let someone with such beautifully perfect genes slip through his fingers (also it helps that the sex is nice).
tim stares down at the gorgeous brown eyes all of his children will have (tim's light blue eyes carry an increased risk of basal and squamous cell carcinoma) as they roll back from the bliss of another orgasm, their balls clenching and cum shooting into tim's more than welcoming womb. tim's cunt clenches around the throbbing length, satisfaction purring in his chest as a fresh load of material for him to parse through fills him.
tim spends the plane ride home carefully choosing out the perfect sperm and gently guiding his egg to it. he carefully makes sure the two fuse perfectly, joining his egg and the material of his lovely donor (who tim has carefully memorized the name and address of for future reference). after all he'll be back in a few years to fuck his brains out for another sweet baby. it's what tim always wanted after all.
tim already knows he's pregnant weeks later but takes a test for his medical records, after all he needs to get started on all the proper vitamins and treatments to make sure his baby is born with the least risk possible. he also needs to inform bruce as quickly as possible so he can be benched. no need for unnecessary stress after all, it would be bad for the baby if tim's levels rose any higher.
news of tim's pregnancy spreads quickly and practically everyone tim has slept with in the last few weeks are stumbling over themselves to try and find out who the father is.
tim supposes he'll let them keep guessing for a few more weeks before their inevitable hovering gets annoying and he shoos them away.
because while tim might have the baby he's wanted for so long, he still needs help satiating his desires. orgasms always help with lowering his stress and the flood of hormones that are to come will, of course, make him too horny to function.
but at least he'll have help with that. afte rall, ever since people found out tim could control whether he got pregnant or not more than a few people showed up on his doorstep, desperate to be able to fuck bare back without any risks.
and tim, well who was he to say no?
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