#and have begun to write my own submissions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

garfunklefield · 1 month

Note

hiii ^^ can u write ab how perverted each JJK man is? plz plz plz includ choso!!!!! i luv my little bbg

Dirty Little Pervert!

HOW PERVERTED ARE THEY?

[Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, and Toji]

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/JJK MEN Warnings: established relationship, fem!dom!reader [Gojo], sub!Gojo, anal fingering, dumbification, public sex, dub-con, exhibitionism, slave play, pet/master, hair pulling, degradation, spanking/flogging, bratty!reader [Nanami], brat taming, dacryphilia, daddy kink, mutual masturbation, sex toys, Choso's is really sweet, hunter/prey, consensual non-consensual [Toji] breeding kink, biting, blood play [blood drinking] Word count: 1941 DESC: How perverted are each JJK man on a scale from 1 to 5?

I actually had so much fun with this! I've never done a multi-fic before I'd love to do more!

This is not my most well written fic but hey it's something!

Satoru Gojo: ★★✩✩✩ Submissive/Dominant

Satoru Gojo was the most pathetic man you had ever been with. You had never heard a man cry and whimper more than him, which was strange because when you first met him you had him completely wrong. From the way he acted and from how he presented himself, you pegged him for a dominant guy who liked to fuck submissive girls. You initially thought it would be a problem, being a dom yourself. So it surprised you when you heard him casually admit to being a sub.

“I like a real dominant woman. Someone who can fuck my smug attitude outta me.” That was all he needed to say. Because soon that’s exactly what you did.

You just used your fingers, pumping them in and out of his tight little hole. He was already so sensitive that’s all he needed to become a slobbering and filthy mess. You watched as the boy you knew as cocky and conceded fall apart, whimpering and crying out that he wanted more.

“You like that slut?” You smirked, arching your fingers to touch his sensitive prostate. Satoru moaned, nodding his head against the bed. Both of his hands were gripping the sheets and his back arched as he felt a wave of pleasure shoot through his cock. He’d already cum several times, writhing around in it. But he still wanted more. And not to mention, you wouldn’t let him leave until you milked him completely and utterly dry.

“M-mommy.. Please.. F-f.. mmm… shit.. Mm-fuck.. Fuck.. fuck me… p-please!” He sobbed into the cushion, jerking his hips to the sensation. It wasn’t long before he felt it get too intense and he spilled out again onto the bed, screaming out with pleasure. He threw his head up and arched even more that he possibly could. All from your plush little fingers. You hadn’t even begun to stroke his cock or fondle his balls and he was completely and utterly gone. He was in a haze, fucked dumb from your digits.

“More…” he rasped, looking over at you with his tongue sticking out, “I want… more..”

Suguru Geto: ★★★★✩ Exhibitionist and slave play

Suguru wasn’t one for hiding his perverted nature. You shouldn’t have been surprised when you both came home from a late day at the office and he was beginning to pull down your pencil skirt. One hand pulled at the hem while the other used little force to push you stomach-first against the hood of his car. You let out a breathy gasp and turned back to him, trying to see what exactly he was doing.

“Suguru?” You asked, trying to get an idea as to what was about to happen. You didn’t want to admit but you were already soaking wet. You knew with the nature of your relationship he didn’t need to ask, if your master wanted to fuck you you knew to oblige. No matter where you two were.

He pressed his raging boner against your ass and let that speak volumes. He hadn’t been able to concentrate without thinking about fucking you in public. He wanted everyone to hear you moan that he was yours and no one could ever fuck you like that. He wanted you to cry and choke on his cum as he pounded into from the back. Suguru wanted everyone to know who owned you.

Your skirt came off and fell down to your ankles, revealing your underwear. He inhaled sharply and pulled his cock out from his slacks, letting it hit your fat ass with a small noise. It was within seconds that he was inside you. You gasped and arched your back, feeling one of his hands on the small of your back and the other grabbing your hair, pulling you back to him.

“You like that, huh? Whore? Little pathetic slut?” Suguru spat in your ear, making your pussy throb in between your legs. You were the most self-respectable girl, never letting anything get to you. But in your sex life… you were a different person. You were a total slut for your husband, doing anything and everything to please him.

Kento Nanami: ★★★✩✩ Spanking and Brat taming

Kento wasn’t a very perverted guy at all, he’d only ever really think about that stuff when he was with you. You never pegged him for the guy who was into going to fetish bars or doing ACID on a Tuesday night, and you were right. However, you didn’t account for the fact he had his own kinks and ways of pleasuring himself. He never admitted but he enjoyed his fair share of BDSM, only with the right person of course. When you came in, with your bratty nature and your big innocent eyes… he wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to cum on your tits and force you to lick it off or give you a piece of his mind after a long day of work, fucking into you with no care for your own personal boundaries at all. But… he restrained himself enough to limit his kinks to a select few things.

So you found yourself, bent over on his lap with a flogger in his hand, while his other lifted up your pink skirt. Of course, you didn’t wear underwear. He had gotten used to the fact you were the pervert in this relationship, doing everything to get a rise out of him. And it worked. You had been able to make him so sexually frustrated it was pissing him off. He needed to tame you and make you bend to his will over and over, and over again.

Of course, it would only make you behave for about a week before you started to test his patience again, and then the cycle would repeat. And god he loved it.

“Okay dirty girl,” he spoke gently, “Remember if you stop counting I start over,” and with one fell swoop the flogger smacked your ass. You let out a whimper and threw your head back, counting the first number.

After a few more spanks from the flogger you hazily looked over at him, drool pooling on your bottom lip and dripping onto the floor, “I.. mm.. I forgot… my place,” you let out a hiss as Kento frowned and raised his hand, slapping your ass with enough force to make you cry out. “Mm! I’m sorry!” You let out a sob before he smacked it again, “D-daddy Mm.. mm sorry!”

“You’re going to show me how sorry you really are, okay?” He raised an eyebrow as you, looking you over as your body shook. You didn’t realize it but he was so incredibly hard it was becoming painful for him.

Choso Kamo: ★✩✩✩✩ Mutual masturbation

Choso actually isn’t that much of a pervert! Choso had never found himself interested in BDSM or crazy sex. He preferred the romantic aspect of a relationship over the sexual, which he was very glad you did too. There was nothing he really wanted to try or had a desire to do. All he really wanted was to be close to you in any way possible. So maybe there was one thing. He wanted to see how you pleasured yourself when you were all alone. He wanted to see how you touched yourself to the thought of him, and he wanted to show you how he touched himself to you.

When he suggested the idea you thought it was really sweet and agreed. It made him happy to think you wanted to be as close to him as he wanted to be with you. You watched as your boyfriend shyly peered over at your exposed pussy, glistening just for him. You placed your small vibrator over your clit, letting out a faint sigh at the new sensation. Just watching you begin to please yourself made a small jolt of electricity travel through his cock.

“Baby…” You cooed, motioning for him to lay beside you. Choso nodded and laid back, resting his head against your shoulder, “You wanna touch yourself too?”

“Mmhm…” He nodded, looking down at his growing erection. It took a few seconds before he was freed from his pants and sopping wet from his precum. He shyly placed his hand around his shaft and stroked upwards, before focussing on his tip. You watched him with a curious expression, slowly rubbing circles around your clit with your bullet vibrator. You let out a small moan as you watched him massage the slit on his tip, before going back to stroking his length again. All the while, his eyes were on you. Your face and the cute expressions you were making.

This felt more intimate than sex. A way to be close to one another without truly touching each other. Even though he longed desperately to touch some part of you, that’s why he was leaning his side against yours. Your warmth and your smell were so comforting, it was all he needed to masturbate near you. He really, really loved you.

Toji Zenin: ★★★★★★ Hunter/prey and CNC

Toji wins. Toji fucking wins. He’s the most perverted man you’ve ever met. The first thing he asked you when you walked up to him at that bar was your bra size, and that same night he was taking it off with one hand. Your relationship was purely sexual from the moment it began and you both loved it. You would do any kink or any weird thing he suggested, as he would for you. As long as it meant he got to breed your pretty pussy in the end.

Today you both had decided on something… out of the norm. It was dead of night, maybe 3 AM? And you were in a lovely wooded area, running for your life. Behind you, you heard something chasing after you. Maybe it was a beast, maybe it was a man, you couldn’t tell. Toji was supposed to be chasing you, but it had been so long since you had seen him that you weren’t sure what was behind you anymore. You looked down at your surroundings but it was pitch black, the only thing you could see were a few branches in front of you. You still saw them yet you tripped.

You fell face-first into a pile of leaves, scrambling when you heard… growling. A large hand grabbed your shirt and you gasped, struggling against it. You could barely see, you didn’t realize he had leaned down and began to bite you. You let out a cry, “Agh! S-stop!” You continued to struggle, whimpering when the man behind you broke skin and started to suck on the blood seeping from your neck.

“Pretty thing. Shame… M’ gonna fuck you so good,” Toji whispered, throwing you back into the ground. He was giving you a chance to run, to escape. But you didn’t want to. It was so fun to role play, to pretend you were in any real danger. You knew even though your relationship was sexual he’d kill for you and your tight pussy.

“Please…” You cried as you felt your pants rip from the top down, exposing your ass, “Leave me alone…” You buried your head into the leaves, a large hand grabbing your hair and pulling you up.

“I said I’m gonna fuck you good. Now stay quiet you fucking brat,” Toji pushed you down, making you squeal in pain as he slapped your ass a few times. Your skin stung and you knew this was just the beginning of a long sexual experience with your lovely sneaky link, Toji.

#gojou satoru x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #choso kamo x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #x reader smut #x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #garfunklefield writing

521 notes · View notes

glyphwrites · 4 months

Text

Sub!Megatron and his sassy Dom Optimus discuss a scene

Have a precurser to smut that popped into my head today. I might end up writing the actual scene at some point, but I'm just way too busy rn. If i ever do, it'll go up on ao3 as a whole fic.

Despite the effects of the war and its aftermath, Megatron hadn’t had too much of a problem with his sex life. Though he couldn’t say he’d had a stable partner throughout that time, he had plenty of friends and admirers to spend time with, and left those encounters feeling perfectly satisfied.

However…

Personally, Megatron was a switch, enjoying practically any position and dynamic. There were a lot of mechs willing to let him dominate them, take control out of their servos and give them a fun time. But when it came to his own desire to be submissive, he simply didn't have the same range of options. Most Decepticons weren't comfortable with domming their leader, and those that were generally weren't interested in doing anything gentle. Which - a little rough play could be fun, but it wasn't Megatron's preference. That left his friends, where unfortunately the problem persisted. Shockwave would much rather follow his commands, Starscream had always focussed too much on degrading him, Straxus he didn't trust an inch and most of his other generals were uninterested. Strika was the only one he'd repeatedly fooled around with in that manner (technically Lugnut as well, but he was very firmly submissive), but even then they'd both been able to agree that they didn’t quite click.

So life continued as before, Megatron feeling fairly satisfied with his various encounters but never quite completely fulfilled.

Then he met Optimus Prime. And, well, a lot of things happened. He died, for one thing. But after everything else that happened, after their squabbles were over and their alliance was solidified, Megatron had found himself falling for the mech… and eventually, falling into his berth. It had certainly been a whirlwind romance, especially considering how long it’d been since he’d had a proper partner. Once flirtations and teasing had become something more serious, and after their first few tumbles, they’d inevitably begun to talk about what they wanted from their strange new relationship. Megatron had laid out his own preferences easily, before revealing how he identified as a switch with some hesitance. He’d so wanted things to work out, wary of turning Optimus away at the thought of him desiring submission.

Megatron still remembered the grin that had spread across Optimus’ face, like the sun coming up. “Hey, that’s perfect! So am I.” Not for an instant had Optimus judged him; in fact, he’d been quite excited discussing their very first proper scene together, and just as enthusiastic carrying it out.

It’d been the best submissive experience of Megatron’s life.

He could still remember lying in berth together afterward, Optimus running a cloth laden with polish across his heated plating. Right there and then, he’d vowed to repeat the experience as often as he possibly could.

And life had gone on.

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

Once again, it’d been a long day filled with meetings, forms and petty squabble between his officers. Megatron had headed straight for his quarters the instant the last meeting finished, eager to sit with a cube of warm energon and perhaps a datapad as he decompressed. Instead, when he arrived he found that Optimus had beat him back to their shared rooms, and was now doing something with a selection of boxes on the coffee table. He glanced up as the door closed, flashing a smile at Megatron as he entered. To Megatron’s optics, his partner looked distinctly dishevelled in the way that usually implied he’d been working with his servos again. Although Optimus’ job description now mostly covered tactical analysis, organising military logistics and fighting on the battlefield, he still often seemed to find some kind of job or task that required building things or tinkering with the guts of a spacebridge. At this point it was so frequent as to be ubiquitous, and Megatron wasn’t even that surprised at the sight.

“How was your day? I thought you’d be kept a little longer, to be honest.” Optimus straightened from his work, hopping over the scattered boxes on his way over to the door.

Megatron couldn’t help but smile at the sight, his worries melting away for the time being as he bent down to answer Optimus with a kiss. “It was perfectly fine, though you’re quite right; I managed to weasel out of my last meeting a little earlier than usual.”

Optimus laughed, slinging his arms around Megatron’s neck and kissing him back. “Well, that’s good to hear!” They stayed in the doorway for a few minutes longer, holding each other close. Megatron delighted in pressing Optimus against him, feeling his spark thrumming through his plating.

When at last they broke apart again, Megatron glanced back at the chaos in the centre of their living area and couldn’t help but ask about it. “Are you building us some new furniture?” Optimus generally preferred to mess with machines, but he wasn’t that discerning with his projects.

“Oh! Not quite…” Optimus pulled away a little, looking from Megatron to the boxes and then back away. He smirked, teasing and smug in equal parts as he placed his servos on Megatron’s chassis “Actually, I’ve got something special for you.” He grinned up at Megatron for a moment longer, before pausing and tacking on another few sentences in a hurry. “Only if you're up for it, of course! I know it’s been a long day.”

It had in fact been a long day. But something about Optimus filled him with energy, and now Megatron couldn’t imagine a better way to spend his evening. “That sounds exciting.” He replied, catching Optimus to kiss again. “I’d certainly be happy to find out.”

The answering grin practically lit up the room. Optimus skipped back over to the table while Megatron followed at a more sedate pace, although he felt just as eager. Digging into one of the boxes, Optimus retrieved what appeared to be… a coil of braided wire? It shone in the light, iridescence glimmering as he turned it. He offered it to Megatron, who lifted and examined it carefully.

Thanks to his past exploits, Megatron had a fairly good idea of what this was. “Planning to tie me up?” He tested the shining rope between his digits, and frowned. “It’s certainly pretty, but it doesn’t look very strong.” He turned it over for a moment longer, before catching sight of the way Optimus was gesturing to him and handing the coil back.

And then Optimus grinned impishly, taking the end of the braided wire and wrapping it around his other servo, pulling it tight between them. “That’s the point!”

Something about that mischievous grin, that cocky tone of voice, that confident stance… it did things to Megatron. He swallowed lightly, unable to move as Optimus stepped closer, giving him an evaluating look as he wound the rope between his servos. “So, here’s the deal.” Optimus was right up in his face now, so close that their chassis were touching. “I’m going to tie you up and play with you.” His tone was utterly matter of fact now, but it still did plenty to excite Megatron. He liked the way Optimus managed to dominate him despite their differences in size and age, the confident way he ordered Megatron around. Optimus pressed one servo to his chassis, drawing a circle over his spark. “All you have to do is enjoy yourself… and not break it.” He smirked even wider. “Think you can manage it?”

That was one of the other things he liked about Optimus’ style, the way he challenged Megatron. Composing himself, he leaned down, matching Optimus’ smirk despite the way his spark burned with excitement. “I dare say I’m up to the task.”

#tfa #tfa megop #precursor to smut #implied valveplug #megop #transformers animated #optimus prime #tfa optimus prime #megatron #sub megatron #these bitches gay #also sub!megatron fans rise up #spicy bites

60 notes · View notes

ofmdbigbang · 1 year

Text

Happy Pride pirates, and welcome to the OFMD Big Bang 2023!

We were thrilled and overwhelmed by the amazing works that you all produced last year, and we hope that some of you have enough creative juice left to come and join us again!

SIGN UPS ARE NOW OPEN

Under the cut will be the majority of the information that you will need as part of the Big Bang for Mobile Users, but the most important links are right here:

Author Sign Up Form

Artist Sign Up Form

This post also will not contain the full FAQ guide, so please read that if you can.

HAPPY WRITING!

2023 Schedule

June 1st — June 30th — Author Sign Ups June 1st — August 25th (or when all stories are claimed) — Artist Sign Ups June 16th — Writing Officially Starts July 15th — 20th — First Check-In (Summaries Due) August 15th — 20th — Second Check-In (5000+ words required) August 25th — Artist Claim Post (for stories at 5000+ words only) September 10th — 15th — Third Check-In for Authors, Artist Check-In October 1st — 5th — Final Check In and Pitch Hitter Cutoff October 15th — 20th — Final Submission; Stories complete, beta read, and edited; Art complete October 22nd — Posting Starts (All deadlines end at 11:59 PM EDT/EST)

FAQs

Please read the full post if possible as not all FAQs have been posted here

How do I sign up?

To participate as a writer, sign up using the link above! Sign ups begin June 1st, 2023 and run through July 1st, 2023.

To participate as an artist, sign up using the link above! Artist sign ups begin June 1st, 2023 and run through August 25th, 2023.

Can I sign up as both an author and an artist?

You may sign up in both categories, but please be aware of your ability to balance your workload. Signing up as an artist is a commitment to the writer you claim that you will produce artwork for their story. Signing up as a writer is a commitment to the artist that claims you that you will produce a finished story to accompany that artwork.

When and how do artists claim stories?

The Artist Claim Post will go up on August 25th, 2023. In order to submit your story for an artist claim, you must be at least halfway finished with your draft (minimum 5000 words). Authors will submit their story summaries during Author Check-in Number 2, summaries will be anonymized and posted, and artists will fill out a form to claim the story. All artist claims are first come, first served.

Where will the stories and artwork be posted?

All stories and their accompanying art should be posted in their entirety to Archive of Our Own, with a header linking to your story submitted to this tumblr. During the final check-in, when you have finished your works, you will claim a date and time to post your works to AO3 and the linked header to tumblr. You will be responsible for posting your own story/header at least 2, but no more than 24, hours before your assigned time. Please do not cross-promote your works until the bang is completed.

What is the minimum word count? Is there a maximum word count?

The minimum word count required for this festival is 10,000 words. There is no maximum word count.

Can I use a story I’m already writing?

The goal of a big bang is to create a new work of long fiction within a specific time frame. As such, stories you have begun prior to the start of the bang cannot be used. Planning, preparing, and outlining prior to the bang is allowed; beginning your story before the bang starts defeats the purpose of the challenge.

Can I write more than one story?

Signing up for more than one story is allowed, but discouraged due to the high word count requirement. You are the best judge of your writing pace, so please only sign up for what you feel is realistically achievable. Remember that submitting a summary to the Artist Claim Post is a commitment to your artist to complete your story or stories.

What if I don’t finish my story?

You may drop from the OFMD Big Bang at any time prior to receiving an artist claim without penalty. Dropping after art claims is unfair to your artist. If you drop after receiving your artist claim without prior contact with the mods, you may not be allowed to participate in next year’s OFMD Big Bang.

Is a beta required for my story?

Your story must be beta-read at least once before submission. If you do not already have a beta reader, you can visit our beta page (TBA) to request one.

Can I submit my story early?

You may not submit your completed story until at least 2, but no more than 24, hours before your assigned posting date and time. However, if you finish before October 22nd, 2023, you will be poised to claim your posting time slot as soon as the final check-in opens. Please do not post your story to AO3 more than 24 hours before your assigned posting date/time.

May I post my story as a series of installments over time?

No. Your entire story must be posted on AO3 before you submit to our tumblr. You may start posting to AO3 up to 24 hours before your time slot, in order to get all chapters posted and any formatting issues resolved. Please choose your posting slot accordingly. If you need more than 24 hours to format your story, please use AO3’s draft and preview system.

What are the art requirements for the OFMD Big Bang?

The OFMD Big Bang allows a wide array of art, with requirements based on the media. Artists providing a graphics package should include at least one piece of cover art, and a banner/header (which can be a modified version of the cover art). Artists submitting a fanmix should include a linkable (hosted on spotify, youtube, or the like) mix of at least five songs with front and back cover art. Artists submitting traditional or digital artwork should include 2+ pieces of artwork, though one piece can be a banner/header or a piece of cover art cropped from the first piece of art. Artists submitting a fanvid should include at least one video of at least one minute in length. Artists submitting a Photoset or Gifset must have at least six (6) frames. Artists submitting a podfic should include a recording which covers the entire text of the story. In all cases, artwork should not whitewash any character played by an actor of color. If deemed necessary by the mods, artists may be asked to adjust palette/skin tone color of their work.

The summaries posted to the Artist Claim Post will include a note on any types of artwork an author prefers to receive/not to receive. Some authors may be uncomfortable with certain content (eg. nudity) or formats. Please do your best to make an artist claim that will best suit both you and your writer.

Artists are required to host their artwork on a site of their choosing, and then provide embedding links to their authors. Simply emailing your finished art files to the author is not acceptable. See below for more information.

Can I claim more than one story?

Please claim only one story in the first Artist Claim Post. If we still have unclaimed stories, we will post a second round claim post later that same week.

215 notes · View notes

puddle-nerd · 7 months

Text

Sharing is Caring

Summary: Miles is late coming back to your shared quarters one night, so you attempt to take care of your own needs…

(Recombinant Miles Quaritch/Reader/Recombinant Lyle Wainfleet)

Prompt 25 (Caught Masturbating) and Prompt 27 (Anal) for my submission for LunasKinktober2023

Author’s Notes: Sorry it’s been a couple of days since my last Kinktober post but I wanted this one to turn out well. I kept editing it and re-editing it. I hope you all enjoy. So, this one, like the summary says is going to cover two prompts, #25 – caught masturbating and #27 – Anal. That’s another reason why I also waited to post. Unfortunately, I only have one more to finish up and post and that’ll be on Halloween day. And last but not least, like in Part 1 – Forever, the Na’vi language is gonna be depicted with ~ on either end of the conversation piece spoken and in green writing. Na’vi Translation: Olo’eyktan — Clan Leader Tawtute – human | Sky Person Tsaheylu – a bond or neural connection Tewng – loincloth Story Tags: No use of Y/N, Female Reader, Caught Masturbating, Anal Sex, Use of “baby girl and darlin’ ”, Cultural Differences, Na’vi Culture (Avatar – Cameron), Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Anal Fingering, M/M/F, Threesome, No gay sex mentioned in this one, Bonding, Creampie

Part 1

You were mated to the one known as Colonel Miles Quaritch. Not by choice but when you had made Tsaheylu, Eywa hadn’t rejected your bond so… you were mated to Miles. Forever. You hated most aspects of it because he forced you to interact with his comrades and they were all so tawtute, despite looking like Jake and Lo’ak Sully. At least the Olo’eyktan had been willing to learn the ways of The People. These recombinants… they did not See, nor were they willing to learn how to See and it broke your heart over and over and over again.

There was one aspect you had… begrudgingly… begun to enjoy, though, and because he was your mate, only Miles could fulfill it for you. Or, you thought that was the case until Lieutenant Lyle Wainfleet off-handedly told you otherwise.

Despite you being mated to Miles, you were still considered to be a liability and were often stuck being babysat when your mate had to go to meetings or you didn’t want to sit around watching him lift weights, although you didn’t mind watching when he went hand-to-hand with one of his men. Watching all those muscles of his stretch and glisten whenever he began to sweat made you want.

Today was Lyle’s turn to babysit you.

You’d made him eat lunch with you outside so you could at least see nature instead of the stuffy walls of the oppressive tawtute settlement.

“I’m, uh, I’m getting calluses all over my hands, baby girl,” Wainfleet chortled at you with a leer, “hearing all those performances you and sir put on every night.” His golden eyes flickered over your form where you were reclined upon the observation deck in your usual style of clothing, although you had been introduced to a new material called paracord instead of the natural fibers you were used to harvesting. You had been experimenting with designing interesting new chest coverings for yourself with it although you hadn’t found a suitable material to create new tewngs, yet. Now, you understood English fairly well because of your friendship with the Sully family and the tawtute scientists that had been allowed to stay on Pandora after the Great War almost two decades prior when you’d been very little, but you still sometimes had trouble understanding sarcasm and innuendos. Now was, unfortunately, one of those times and you cocked your head at him in confusion. When he saw your reaction to his joke, he chuckled, adding, “ ‘Cause I can hear you through the wall…?”

You blushed, your cheeks going lilac, realizing he was talking about late at night when Miles drove into you over and over, but you still didn’t understand the English innuendo.

Lyle gulped and looked around before leaning in, muttering quietly, “I’m talking about me rubbing one or two out every night.” There was no telling when Quaritch would be done with his meeting and come to collect you and if the colonel found out that you were learning these sexual things from someone other than himself, well, during sparring, Lyle was sure he’d find himself getting more bruised and bloodier than normal for overstepping for not asking for permission first. However, who was he to deny a pretty little thing like you the answers you sought?

When you still looked at him with confusion, he stated bluntly, “I’m talking about masturbating, sweetheart. When you… when you touch yourself… between your legs to feel good?”

“You can do that?” you asked in English this time, blinking owlishly in surprise. “But that doesn’t… ohhh.” You blushed as understanding bloomed inside of you as to why he was developing calluses. “And you… every night… because you hear us?”

He shrugged, golden eyes skimming over your body hungrily once more, stating, “You’re fucking sexy.”

You scented the air and blushed as his arousal became noticeable in two aspects.

“She is, ain’t she?”

You and Lyle both looked up as Mile appeared beside you both, a brow raised as he sat down beside you, pulling your bare backside onto his lap , his hand fisting the base of your tail and pressing upon a spot that made you mewl as pleasure suddenly raced through your body at his sudden touch. “You tellin’ my girl something she ain’t supposed to be hearin’, lieutenant?”

“No, sir. Just a joke, sir,” Lyle muttered.

You nodded, glancing up at your mate and blushing as you told him quietly, “He hears us at night.”

Quaritch paused and raised a brow higher and looked at Wainfleet. “That true, huh? You hear us at night while I acquaint myself with my little wife, here? It gets you all hot and bothered?” Lyle and you blushed at his question, Wainfleet answering reluctantly in the affirmative. Instead of getting mad, Miles chuckled and tucked into his own food, saying instead, “We gotta head to a meetin’ tonight. It’s gonna be a late one.” Turning to you, he added quietly, “Gonna have to go without Daddy’s dick tonight, sweet thing. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it tomorrow.”

You flushed once more and turned your face away from him, your ears flicked back in embarrassment.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Just as he had promised, Quaritch hadn’t come to bed that night around the time he usually did, and that man was usually very good with his schedule, so, on your own, you used the terrible tawtute shower with it’s strange liquids by being surrounded by cold, alien tile and metal to wash your body clean and headed to bed without a stitch of clothing on, laying down on top of the covers at the moment. Since the moment he’d mated you, Miles preferred you both to sleep naked in his bunk, your skin touching his in its entirety as he held you in the circle of his arms, your backside nestled nice and tight up against his groin. It also made it easier to fuck whenever he wanted to slip his fingers or his cock into one of your orifices. This was one of the few things you enjoyed about being mated. He was a very generous lover, whenever he decided you had been well-behaved. If he was deciding to punish you for some transgression, well, those nights lasted a very long time.

You’d grown accustomed to experiencing pleasure every night and yet, your mate wasn’t here at the moment. Still, apparently, you could pleasure yourself if what Wainfleet had told you this afternoon was true.

Thinking about how your mate always touched you those large, strong hands of his, you spread your legs and explored your body with tentative touches, starting as Miles did and working your way down from your neck. You circled your nipples and huffed at the tingling sensation you garnered from your exploratory touch but it was still nothing like your mate’s fingers or his hot, rough tongue or his sharp fangs teasingly raking over your sensitive peaks. Still playing with one of your sensitive nipples, your other hand softly moved down your stomach and caressed the soft skin of your mons pubis, hesitantly caressing the outer lips of your labia.

A shiver of pleasure raced up your spine and your tail flicked in arousal.

A huff left your lips as you stroked over the seam of your opening, finding yourself slick. Down and up, you rubbed at yourself until you lifted your index finger to your clit and shuddered with a quiet moan. You added your thumb and rolled the little button of flesh between the two digits, your hips making little aborted jerking motions into your touch. Your breathing grew heavier as pleasure pooled in your belly and your legs tensed slightly, digging your heels into the bed beneath you.

More slick seeped out of your cunt and you gathered some onto your fingertips before you moved to dip your index finger into your opening. It was nowhere near as big as Miles’ but still, it felt nice.

You sighed, sinking your finger deeper into yourself and touched your clit with your thumb at the same time. Your hips were moving more now as you slipped a second finger inside, the friction sending little tingles of pleasure trail through your limbs. Your wetness was beginning to trickle out of you and drip down the curve of your backside, the need building within you. You bit back a whimper, wishing your mate was here to shove his fat cock inside you and build you up into a shattering orgasm. You wanted his girth and his length stretching you out and plundering your depths; your hips were moving even faster to meet your touch, your breath coming in soft pants and quiet moans.

You bit down upon your lower lip as pleasure continued to build up within you, your two fingers buried in your cunt speeding up their movements. You curled them slightly and choked on a cry, your hips lifting off the bed a couple of inches as your tail lashed in ecstasy.

Oh, it was really feeling good now.

Your fingers were completely slick now and a small pool was forming beneath you as you rutted into your hand. If only your fingers were longer and thicker, like your mate’s were, not quite getting the depth Miles could within you but rubbing at the spot inside you that felt soft and spongey, it made up for it, especially as you continued to thumb your clit in teasing little circles.

You were too focused on your growing pleasure to hear the doorknob turn or the quiet hum of voices until–

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Holy fuck.”

You froze as you opened your eyes and gasped, seeing your mate standing there watching you with arms crossed and a raised brow, Lyle gaping at you directly behind his shoulder. The bald recombinant immediately dropped his hands over the front of his trousers to cover the fact that he was starting to pitch a tent.

You tried to curl in on yourself only to yelp as your mate lunged forward, grabbing you firmly around the throat. “Ah, it’s too late now, darlin’,” Miles chuckled, licking his teeth in hunger and jerking you to your feet. “You’ve been caught.” Pulling you to stand in front of him, your naked body on display for Wainfleet to see every inch of your front. “And here I was, gonna wake you up with Daddy’s cock so the three of us could play.”

That caught your attention.

You looked up in surprise at your mate, muttering, “Three of us, Mylos?” You tail curled in curiosity while your cunt clenched, more slick dribbling out of you and trickling down your leg.

Your mate raised his nose and scented the air, chuckling.

“Oh yes, the three o’ us,” he chuckled, kicking your legs apart slightly to give Lyle a better view of you. “Ya see, we talked and turns out… Lyle here has a bit o’ a crush of you and…” Miles informed you, the hand still on your throat remaining where it was while his other hand came down to caress the skin between your belly and your pelvis, “he’s the only one I don’t mind sharin’ you with. Heck, even shared a human woman with him once or twice b’fore I got turned blue like you.”

You tried not to get jealous of the idea of your mate being with someone other than you, gritting your fangs in disdain at the thought. Technically he was Spider’s father. Instead, you focused on the other part of his words and met Lyle’s heated gaze with your own as he took in your naked body like he’d never seen anything like you and wouldn’t ever get to again. “So, Ly-ahl will be our third, Mylos?” you asked cautiously. Seeing the lieutenant with the hard line of his engorged cock pressing against the front of his trousers all because he’d seen you playing with yourself, it was flattering. And you were so needy to be filled up.

“That a Na’vi thing, darlin’? Takin’ on a third?” Miles asked.

You nodded. “Third mates are not uncommon,” you agreed, adding, “especially after times of war. I have my father and two mothers.” Your mate smirked and pushed a hand against your belly to grind your backside against the hardness in his own trousers. You whimpered, your eyes rolling slightly at the familiar feel of your mate’s shaft hidden behind his tawtute clothing.

“I guess can agree to that, adding Lyle to the mix,” Miles purred suggestively into your ear, his large hand dipping closer to where you needed his touch, your tail curling in excitement. “So, what about you, Lieutenant? Think you can be faithful to my little wife, here? Be her other partner?” The colonel’s golden eyes darkened as he smirked, adding with a rumbling purr, “Won’t have t’use yer hands as much when yer the one makin’ her create those sounds that got yer dick all hard every night. Trust me… it’s even better watchin’ and feelin’ it all firsthand.

So, this is how you found yourself sandwiched between two large males, a cock stuffed up your cunt and one pressed halfway down your throat.

“Fuck, her mouth really is good, sir,” Lyle moaned, rutting his hips into your face as your mate fucked you from behind.

Miles chuckled and spanked your behind lightly, replying, “Ya think her mouth is good. Ya should feel her pussy. Just not today. Today, wanna try something else, lieutenant.” Your mate grunted and pulled out of your pussy with a ‘pop’. He moved to sit on the bed, having you straddle his thighs and allowing Lyle to stand behind you. “Take her tail in one hand or else she’s gonna be whippin’ ya with it and it’ll sting like a bitch.” You whimpered as the bald male’s hand fisted the base of your tail, lifting it so he could inspect your anus. “Now darlin’,” your mate said, grabbing your chin and making you look at him. “We’re gonna try somethin’ I think yer gonna like after ya get used to it. Don’t bite or I’m breakin’ yer teeth. Understood?” You nodded and he looked past you at Wainfleet, adding, “It’s in the top drawer.”

You nodded and glanced over your shoulder as you heard a plastic “click” and the “sploosh” of some foreign liquid a moment later.

“Might be a little cold, baby girl,” your second lover warned you before his finger suddenly prodded your anus, cautiously.

You hissed and tried to jerk forward away from his touch. Lyle tightened his grip on your tail to painful and Miles’ fingers dug into your jaw and your thigh. “Don’t fight it, sweet thing,” he rumbled out. “We’re tryin’ this, at least once. Ya don’t cum, we don’t have to try again.”

You growled in the back of your throat lightly but tried to force yourself not to flinch again. Your mate distracted you by sinking into your pussy, thumb rubbing lazy circles on your clit all the meanwhile. The finger sliding through the tight ring of your bum hole was an interesting experience, not unwholly uncomfortable but strange. It took more than just a few pumps of his fingers before you relaxed enough to allow a second finger inside and quite a bit of time before a third finger was added. Lyle and Miles were patient though while you tensed and relaxed, your body wanting to fight the strange penetration but also… maybe enjoying it a little as well.

As you began to accept the third finger, Lyle spoke up in encouragement, finally.

“You’re doing so well, baby girl,” he hissed. “I’m so fucking hard just in anticipation to take your ass.”

Wainfleet began to scissor his fingers, causing you to whimper and whine, your hips flexing and making you grind slightly on your mate’s cock stuffed up in your cunt. Miles grunted but grinned, muttering, “I think yer really gonna like it, darlin’. I can feel you clenchin’ down on me. And when the lieutenant sinks himself up in yer ass, yer gonna feel so full. I bet we can get you to gush like a fountain. Think she’s ready for ya?”

“She’s gonna be tight still, sir,” Lyle replied, still fingering your ass.

Miles smirked. “That’s the point,” he rumbled out. “Slick yerself up and slide in.”

You whined as your new lover removed his fingers from your anus and heard the “sploosh” of the lube again as he slicked up his cock. Your tail twitched in his grip and then stood on end as Lyle’s bulbous cockhead prodded at you. He pushed in slowly, very slowly, rubbing his thumb over the base of your tail as he inched his way inside.

“Oh, that helps, Ly-ahl,” you whimpered as his thumb rubbed at the spongey spot on your tail’s base that sent shivers up your spine.

Wainfleet rubbed a little firmer as Miles continued circling your clit. Lyle went inside deeper, slowly, ever so slowly and pausing every time you clenched in discomfort. “Doin’ so well for me, baby girl,” he murmured hotly in your ear. “Such a good girl for us. Yeah, sir?” Miles grunted in affirmative, shifting you over his thighs to get a little friction. “Yeah, you’re doing so well. Just a little more. You feeling good, baby?”

“So full,” you whined, tears in your eyes at the sensations, your nails biting into Quaritch’s biceps.

You could hear the laugh in the lieutenant’s voice as he replied, “Yeah, I’m more than halfway in. You’re doin’ so good for me. Ya hear? So fucking good. Gonna make you see stars, yes, we are.” When he bottomed out, you were near sobbing as you got used to being so full. You hadn’t realized this was what you needed to feel even better.

Slowly, in tandem, the two began to move so you felt every vein, every ridge, every bump and nodule on their striped cocks, the pleasure sparking so much pleasure in you, your eyes were rolling into the back of your head.

Just as Lyle had promised, your eyesight went blury and stars sparked over your eyesight as the two of them picked up the pace, their cocks rubbing every inch of the holes they were lodged in and against each other, only a thin strip of skin separating them. It was almost too much for you. Without meaning to, you reverted to your first language, the one they barely understood at best, though Spider was teaching them. You howled, “~Oh fuck, oh, Eywa, oh Great Mother, please don’t stop. Oh, I need it…~”

Miles chuckled, hissing through clenched teeth as he continued to have you ride him, “Yeah, baby? You gonna cum for us, like a good girl? Maybe this time it’ll take when I finish, get you all nice and pregnant.”

You cried, tears leaking down your cheeks as you whined and moaned, tail lashing as your inner walls clenched down on both of the shafts embedded into your body. Suddenly, Lyle grasped your neural queue and brought it up, dipping his shoulder to swing his around. You knew it would bring more pleasure if Eywa accepted the bond and watched as he brought both ends together to make Tsaheylu. Your pleasure redoubled and you came instantly with a scream, your body clamping down upon both of your mates immediately and forcing Lyle to spend his seed up your ass. He cried out, curling over your back and hugging you tightly to him as you trembled in bliss. Miles grunted a moment later, his cock thickening a final bit as he spurted his warm cum up into your cunt.

The three of you stood there for a moment, panting heavily, skin glistening with sweat, all of your quivering in carnal satisfaction.

“So, better than just hearin’ it?” Miles broke the quiet.

Lyle chuckled in agreement, smacking your ass playfully, “Fuck, yeah, sir. We gotta do this again.”

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 27 October 2023

Word Count: 3,345

AO3

@pandoraslxna, @eyweveng @teyamsatan @lovefrommeelise

#lunaskinktober2023 #avatar #atwow #avatar smut #na'vi reader #recombinant #recombinant miles quaritch #recombinant lyle wainfleet #miles quaritch smut #lyle wainfleet smut #miles quaritch x reader #lyle wainfleet x reader #miles quaritch x reader x lyle wainfleet

52 notes · View notes

authurials · 2 years

Text

𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ... 1/2

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 . you had worked too hard to lose aemond to the pathetic whispers of a pious court

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 . two

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 . @holy-minseok

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 . 18+ situations, referenced sexual situations, referenced violence/mild gore, language

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . took me awhile to get this out because i’ve been struggling with a chest infection but i’ve finally recovered enough to get back to writing; this isn’t the best thing i’ve written in my opinion, but i think it’s a good start to getting back into the swing of things--remember to like, comment and reblog if you enjoy reading! do not repost/claim as your own please

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 burned in your ears as you made your way down the halls of court, head held high and hands folded together primly in front of you. Although ladened with the regalia of the Seven, you did not allow the stone walls that surrounded you to intimidate you into submission. You were the eldest daughter of a king, who though a monarch of a smaller and lesser known kingdom than Westeros raised you to be cunning and prideful–to never accept less than what you deserved; and you deserved better than what the cunts of King’s Landing and possibly beyond were saying about you. You were a princess, wife to the king of Westeros’ second eldest son, and you would not bend or break to the ugly rumors being levied against you.

Even if there was truth to their whispers, you thought, smiling tugging tightly at your lips; flanked on either side by knights of the Kingsguard, you obediently allowed yourself to be escorted to the small council who no doubt wanted to discuss the validity of the ‘concerning’ words being spoken about your name. Even before your carefully crafted facade had begun to slip in the eyes of those at court you had begun to put into place your defense, plotting it carefully so that you might have a better chance at salvaging all your hard work. And hard work it had been, you thought irritably as you recalled the first time you had made the acquaintance of Aemond Targaryen.

Right from the start you had intended him for your husband, having found him to be a suitable and advantageous match that would bring future notoriety to your house and grow your father’s influence. When your father was invited to attend King Viserys in court in hopes of creating a bond between the two kingdoms, you knew that this was your chance to put your plan into action. From your first meeting though, when the second born prince had gazed at you with barely a hint of interest in his one pearlescent blue eye, you knew you had your work cut out for you. He proved to be a pious boy you observed within your first few days in the capital; watching as he attended services in the sept with his mother, and how he dutifully carried out grace before each feast could commence between the two families.

Your attempts at seduction would not work, that much you knew for sure; if anything, any sign of loose morals would only have served to draw the prince’s ire and disgust. He had not wanted a whore for a companion, but someone who concerningly resembled his mother in her piety and devotion–so that is what you gave him. Luckily, pretending to be chaste was not an unknown concept for you; high morality was a character trait you had pulled upon quite frequently in the past, using it to titillate many of the men and even women you had welcomed into your bed over the years. There was something alluring about the debauchery of innocence, and to be the one to take it you had found was a prize not many were willing to pass up–except for Aemond, you came to find out.

You had been tending to the homeless and downtrodden of Flea Bottom when the pair of you engaged in your first conversation, one that was not forced by the close proximity of your families’ shared suppers or the everyday required pleasantries. Though the lesser work of caring for those who could not care for themselves in part disgusted you, you did not let it show that day as Aemond forwent his responsibility of finding his drunkard brother in exchange for escorting you through the lower rungs of King’s Landing. It would become the first of many ‘coincidental’ encounters with the prince in which you were able to show off how unconcerned you were with the finer things of royal life, and instead wished to dedicate your time to those less fortunate; not only that, but how interested you were in familiarizing yourself with the Faith of the Seven, as your own kingdom had no such dedicated religion. And the prince was all too happy to be your tutor, though he always made it a point of the pair of you having a chaperone–lest your virtue be called into question.

The questioning had not begun until recently, many moons after the consummation of yours and Aemond’s marriage; it had been the prince’s first time, that you were certain of. You recalled the way he had clung to you as he reached his completion, hips stuttering into yours as he panted and eventually held himself there inside of you–allowing his seed to take. Though you had found your own pleasure in the act it paled in comparison to some of your other lovers, one of which had taken up within the Keep as part of your family’s holding of servants. Ultimately, this servant–a man you had bedded many times over the years–would be your downfall. He had been the one to let your affairs slip from drunken lips, cockily expressing how he had managed to bed the prince’s wife, whose lips were not only made for the hymns of the Seven but also to service a cock. You had managed to take his tongue before your incarceration into your bed chambers, ordered by the Queen Mother while she sorted everything out.

And what a shame it was, you recalled spitefully, it was a very good tongue after all.

You stopped outside the double doors to the council room, the guard posted outside entering beforehand to ensure the council was ready to receive you. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders, determined to hold your head high and meet their eyes–you would give them no reason to doubt your words. From within you could hear the guard announcing your presence, and the proceeding muffled voice of who you gauged to be your good mother, Queen Alicent. The guard returned, this time holding the door open as the knight on your left side gently prodded you to move forward. Resisting the urge to spew venom at him for treating you in such a manner unbefitting your station, you stepped forward into the room to face the people that were your judge and jury.

As expected, Alicent sat in the middle of the congregation, flanked on either side of the table by the men of her husband’s small council–including the Hand and Alicent’s father, Otto Hightower. The man had never liked you or your family, and the feeling was mutual; he was as much of a snake as you, and it took one’s own kin to see through the facade both sides had been crafting for their own benefit for years. You saw each other as threats, and this proved true as their judgment of you began and Otto stood in opposition of showing you mercy. All the while your husband stood quietly in the corner, head bowed and hands folded behind his back; his lack of eye contact with you made it clear that you would stand alone today, that it would be up to you alone to clear your name and salvage what you could of this mess.

“You stand here today accused of impropriety unbefitting of your station,” Alicent spoke, clearing her throat; you made note of how uncomfortable she looked to be there, to have to be the one hosting the proceedings against her son’s wife–perhaps you could use this to your advantage. “What say you, good daughter?”

“I say….” You put on your best face, hands gripping each other nervously as you bowed your head as if in prayer. “I say that these accusations have wounded me deeply, and I cannot fathom as to why anyone would speak such horrid things about me into existence.”

“Exactly,” Otto hummed, “what reason would anyone have to create such a story if there was no validity to it, my lady?”

“That is a fair point,” another man of council interjected, nodding; you lifted your head to gaze at him coolly before bowing your head once more. “This volume of rumors cannot be ignored. Not to mention your quick dispatching of the first man who spoke out against you-”

“His vile words are the reason I stand before you!” You found yourself spitting out, lifting your head; you could feel the fire burning in your eyes, quickly squashing it as you blinked and took another deep breath to calm yourself. “Apologies, I find the reminder of that disgusting man too much to bear. It is he who disparaged my good name, bringing into question my purity when I have always been and will continue to be….loyal to my husband, Prince Aemond.”

You once more found yourself glancing over at Aemond, hoping he would’ve been looking up and your eyes would lock, allowing you to soften his doubts about you; mayhaps then he would speak out in your favor, squashing the awful questioning of his family and the council. Alas, your hopes were the only thing squashed when all you saw was the tightening of his jaw as he continued to look down at your feet.

“Your words prove pretty as always, my lady,” Otto continued, a smirk discernible beneath his beard, “but they will do nothing to repair the damage that these accusations have caused. You have brought shame upon the Targaryen name, and have left us with no choice but to-”

“Who are you to judge me?” You interrupted him, finding that fire within growing once more; you had always prided yourself on maintaining your coolness in situations such as this, but Lord Hightower’s cockyness was proving too much for you today. Truly, who was he to judge you? You were not blind to his own transgressions against the crown–the way he puppeteered his own family for his own personal gain. “Who are any of you to judge me?”

You looked at each small council member in turn, daring them to meet your eye but none other than Otto were brave enough to do so; Alicent herself could only muster up a look of pity as your gaze fell on her, it was only a brief stare but you saw it plain as day. Your good queen mother pitied you, being the only one in the room who understood the precarious position of a woman in court–how delicate a balance it was, how one false step could lead to a downfall.

“The only judgment I see fit to pass upon me is that of the Seven,” you spat out. “They are the ones who see me as I truly am, my soul having been bared to them since my good mother and husband were so kind to teach me their ways–is that not right, my husband?”

Finally, Aemond had no choice but look upon you, his one eye scaling up your figure, watching the way your hands now gripped at the skirts of your dress and how your chest lifted with each breath you took; you willed him to see the woman he had fallen in love with, the one you had made him worship like he did at your false altar. Yet, there was nothing there but the pain of betrayal, the tight set of his jaw as he looked away from you and towards his grandfather, to whom he gave a stiff nod. It was then that you knew you had lost him, that there was nothing more that you could say or do to repair the damage your own hubris had created; the game you had so eloquently played over the past several moons was over, and there was no victor but that of Otto Hightower as he passed down your sentence–

An annulment, that was the only course of action anyone on the small council saw fit to take; it would leave Aemond open to a more suitable match Otto claimed as you still stood there in that room, finally stunned to silence, no ally in your room unless the sympathetic glance of the queen counted for anything. You would be sent back to your father’s kingdom in shame, where the grasp of the court’s whispers had surely already reached, leaving you with little other prospects in terms of another marriage other than a low ranking lord or even worse a merchant with no titles. It was truly a fate unbefitting of your natural born status as princess, a fitting punishment in the eyes of the men of the council.

You said nothing as they passed down your sentence, simply standing with your head held high and hands now folded behind your back. There was no need to pretend anymore….

So you simply smiled and began to laugh.

Your laughter stopped Otto in his tracks as he made plans to write to your father, and instructed his daughter to ensure the servants began packing up your belongings that day. They all looked at you in confused silence, even Aemond who had a frown on his lips as he looked upon you.

“Is something funny? Or have you simply finally gone mad?” Otto asked, standing from his seat at the council’s table.

“Oh, I am surely mad,” you laugh, shoulders shaking, “but not as much as you are about to be, lord hand.”

“What nonsense do you speak of, whore?” A council member spat out.

You noticed Aemond instinctively lay a hand on the pommel of his sword ready to defend you, and in that moment you did feel something akin to affection for your husband; maybe there was a chance of saving this union yet, but first you had to deal with the council of idiots before you.

“Did you really think I would just allow you to take away everything I worked so hard for?” You hummed, walking towards the table they all rested behind. The guards on either side of the table stepped forward, hands on their own swords much like Aemond but you paid them no mind, simply stopping so that you were eye to eye with the Hand. “Then we have gravely underestimated each other, Lord Hightower.”

“What position do you believe you have to stand on, girl?” Otto smirked. “You are nothing more than what your cunt allows, and it appears that even its luck has run out; even my grandson wishes to be rid of your poisonous wiles.”

“Father-” Alicent began, looking pale and faint.

“Even if he has no love for me,” you tilted your head, a pleasant smile on your lips, “I’m sure he would not allow for the mother of his child to be sent away.”

The silence that proceeded settled warmly in your stomach, satisfaction clear on your face as you looked from Otto to his grandson, whose hand had fallen from his sword to hang limply at his side in shock. For many moons the pair of you had been trying for a child, for Aemond Targaryen wanted nothing more than to be a father and you wanted nothing more than to solidify his loyalty to you. It had been a precarious thing to accomplish, ensuring his seed was the one to take root and not one of your lover’s, but you were certain that the child you carried was of no stock but that of the Targaryens.

“How do we know you are simply not spreading more falsities?” A member of the council expressed what everyone else must be thinking. “Or that the child is even Aemond’s?”

“Do you really wish to take that risk?” You pout, lips curving into a smirk. “Especially when I have already told the good news to his grace, the king.”

Easy to manipulate in his current state, King Viserys adored you as his good daughter, believing you a fitting match for Aemond. You had spent many a day by his bedside, lending him your ear as he spoke fondly of past memories, or your voice as you read to him from his favorite books. He was the first you told when you found out you were with child, and at the prospect of another grandchild the good side of his face had lit up with such happiness; it was then that you knew that if Aemond’s loyalty could not be secured then his father’s fondness would have to do. You were all but untouchable as long as you remained in the king’s good graces, and you knew from his eldest daughter and the whispers that followed her that Viserys was not the kind to let rumors sway him.

“You scheming cunt-” Otto grounded out, making it as if he were going to lean over the table and grab you.

“That is quite enough, father,” Alicent finally spoke, raising her hand to silence any further objections. “It appears as if our hands our tied–”

She looked up at you, and the pride was clear in her eyes as she continued.

“We have no choice but to allow her to stay here, at least until the babe is born; we will know for sure if the child is my son’s.”

“You can’t possibly think to allow her to stay here, daughter-”

“As your queen,” Alicent bit out, “this is what I have decided. I will hear no more of annulment or sending my good daughter away until the patronage of the baby is confirmed. Am I understood?”

She looked around at the men, and you noted the uncomfortable way in which each man shifted under her gaze–leaving no room for questions; each of them nodded stiffly before being dismissed, even Otto was given no choice but to take his leave, eyes holding a promise that this wasn’t over as he gave you one last look before he left. Your satisfaction was short lived however as you found yourself alone with your good mother and husband, both of whom had their eyes on you. It appeared you still had your work cut out for you getting back into their good graces, but it was no worry–

You had many moons ahead of you to prove yourself once again worthy of them and their false gods.

#˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑 :#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen one shot

384 notes · View notes

becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 2 years

Note

So! Hi. Potentially cursed by fae hair anon back (also Bronwyn anon just y'know as long as we're being honest,) so I've been paying close attention to my hair and trying to will it into submission since the lack of Welsh lakes with which to ask the fae for help is a hurdle I cannot overcome on account of there not being any Welsh lakes in the Upper Midwest of the US. I could hike over to Wales, WI where the road signs are in Welsh but it is also full of People Whom I Will Not Associate With on the basis of the prevailing political clusterfuck happening there. Also it's a 6 hour drive in what is gearing up to be A Winter (tm) and if I'm going to commit myself to a slog I may as well just save my pennies and get a passport (previous one was in deadname and I let it lapse for reasons that should contextually be obvious,) and go to Wales to attempt your suggested solution. HOWEVER More recently, I've noticed that the excessively straight hair has begun making itself even more obvious in one particular place: The Cowlick at the back of my head. I have discovered through Totally Scientific Means that no amount of brushing or combing is helping this; a new intensity to which it hated me before as if I let it get long enough it would eventually cave under its own weight and chill out sort of. At any rate I get up in the morning with this lock of hair fanned out behind my head. I brush it. It does not give up. I wear a beanie for hours on end. It remains undeterred. Eleanor, my not a hair expert, the only person whom I can possibly rely on. I have found the answer to my query of whom I upset. I exist as a fucking peacock. I pissed off Hera. Now, fortunately I have done a good deal of independent research on this particular subject and to my knowledge I have not insulted her or fucked Zeus and have Definitely Not borne a child because I'm fairly certain I would've had to be in the room for that that has not happened. So here's the depressing answer: my hair is subject to whatever I did to displease her and there is nothing I can do about it but ride this out and accept my fate because there are many many records of what happens when one challenges the gods or displays too much hubris. Spite may be my primary motivator, but I know when I'm outmatched. If it ever changes, I'll be sure to let you know that I have been released from my Hellenistic hair purgatory and will probably come off anon for that just as a treat.

Hmm. Okay. Perhaps you could consider a votive offering? You need to get a little metal or clay tablet and write across it "I, Wyn, make this offering to the gods to right the wrongs I have done, and beg them to ease their wrath upon my hair. If they do this I promise to build them a lil shrine." and then you take it to an appropriately godly water body and chuck it in. I'm pretty sure you do have to build the shrine if successful though or the whole thing starts again.

Alternatively, if that doesn't work, right, maybe we're looking at this wrong?

My husband, also straight-haired, also has a permanent cowlick at the back of his head. In HIS case, he has a double crown in his hair. Two crowns! Two of them whorls, it is. Which is very appropriate, because he's third in line to the throne if we ever revived the Welsh monarchy of the House of Gwynedd.

Are you perhaps a Lost Heir?

#asks #hair

198 notes · View notes

ellegreenwxy · 2 years

Text

THE TRUTH IS IT’S EASIER TO IGNORE IT

S2 - gary / mc - 3.5k+ words

my submission for the @litgwritersroom lie detector prompt

A/N i’m not going to lie, writing this was so intimidating! if you’ve noticed, most of my litg fics tend to be AUs or set outside of the villa. something about trying to navigate the dynamics of the villa is really anxiety-inducing and not only that, but writing for the men is equally terrifying! but i really wanted to push myself outside of my comfort zone to do something new and a little scary, and i’m really proud of myself for doing it! hope you all enjoy x

“Something’s not right.”

Gary had gotten this feeling before. It was the same one he’d had right before Lucas and Henrik came into the Villa. It was the same one he’d had right before Chelsea and Jakub crashed the Ministry of Sound party. Basically any time the dynamics of the Villa shifted, Gary got this weird feeling in his stomach. It was like his gut instinct was yelling at him, “Hey! Get ready for literally everything to change…again!”

“Relax, Gary,” Lottie muttered from where she was laying on one of the lounge chairs, a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose and her gown-like swimsuit cover shielding her pale skin from whatever rays of sun might try to peek through the nonexistent cracks of the umbrella she was laid out under.

“I can’t. I got this weird feeling that something’s gonna happen,” he said, pushing to his feet off of his own chair. He cast a quick look around, wondering if anyone else seemed to notice something was off. After letting his eyes wander around the Villa, he realized that no, it seemed to just be him that was feeling it.

In fact, everyone seemed to be feeling the most relaxed they had been since coming into the Villa on that first day. Which was saying a lot because Gary knew that he and the boys had been absolutely bricking it despite how they might have come across.

“We’re basically at the end, Gary. All we have left is the final recoupling, final dates, prom, the final itself; it’s all basically over. They’re not going to throw anything at us now,” Lottie said, turning to look at him, lowering her sunglasses just a bit so she could fix her striking green eyes properly on him.

Maybe Lottie was right, maybe there wasn’t anything to worry about after all. Was his gut wrong for once? Could it just be that he was anxious about it all coming to an end so soon? He knew he was worried about getting out of there, but that had everything to do with the person he was with. Or rather, the person he wasn’t with.

“I’ve got a text!”

Speak of the devil…

Vic’s voice rang out from where she was sitting by the pool, no doubt having been watching some of the other boys play around in the water. Boys that included Lucas. Also known as the boy she was coupled up with. Or as Gary had been referring to him as, the idiot that had cheated on her with Blake while she was away at Casa Amor.

The whole situation had rubbed him the wrong way. Lottie had taken his frustration with it as just a sign that he cared about loyalty and had been upset that one of his mates had thrown it away for some “weather reporter.” He cared about loyalty, of course he did, but he’d been more frustrated to see it happen to Vic of all people.

“Gary?”

He blinked and saw Lottie had already started walking towards the pool, though she’d stopped and turned to look at him, clearly wondering why he wasn’t following. “Come on, Gary!” she huffed out before she continued on towards where the rest of the group had started to gather, Vic having already begun to read out the text to everyone. He watched Lucas wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side, and he hated the way his stomach seemed to knot at the sight.

“Islanders, it’s time to put your relationships to the test. This afternoon, you will all face the Lie Detector challenge. Each of you will answer questions from your partner whilst you are attached to a lie detector. Hashtag home truths, hashtag the best policy!”

Oh no. No, no, no.

This was the worst possible challenge they could have been given right now. Why couldn’t they decorate cakes again? Or slide around in some homemade slime? Hell, he would rather do another mean tweets challenge if it meant he didn’t have to be strapped to a lie detector and exposed in front of everyone in the Villa…and the UK.

Maybe Lottie wouldn’t go that hard on him?

God, he knew he could be an idiot sometimes but that was probably the dumbest thing he’d ever thought of in his life.

“Boys, head to the firepit. Girls, head to the bedroom. You’ll have fifteen minutes to write your questions before the challenge begins,” Vic added when another text came through. The girls all shared a look before they sprinted off towards the Villa, and already Gary could hear them start to work through what questions they would ask in between laughs.

The mood surrounding the boys seemed to be quite a bit more somber, he thought as they all made their way to the firepit. There were notecards and pens scattered around and Gary picked one up before settling down on the bench, Bobby on his left and Henrik on his right. It was quiet for a while, not even the sound of pen against paper to fill the air. It seemed everyone was panicking as much, if not more so, than he was.

“So, what kinds of questions are you all going to ask?” It was Lucas who finally spoke up, situated a few seats down from Bobby, Noah next to him. Noah seemed to be the only one who felt relatively okay about the challenge, but that was to be expected. After what a wild ride he and Hope had been on during their time there, Gary doubted there was anything they could throw at each other now that would catch them off guard.

“I’m not going to go too hard,” Bobby said, though it didn’t come as much of a shock. It wasn’t like there was much at stake between him and Hannah; as much as they’d tried to make a go of things, it was clear he’d been stuck in another friendship couple.

“I wonder if Hannah feels the same,” Lucas mused, looking across the firepit at Bobby. “I know Victoria’s not going to ask anything too intense, at least.”

Gary spoke up before he could stop himself. “You sure about that, mate?” he asked, and Lucas’s eyes narrowed at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lucas questioned, and Gary merely shrugged his shoulders despite the fact that he felt like he was really starting to sweat.

“Just that after Casa Amor, I wouldn’t be shocked if she had some difficult questions for you, that’s all.” I know I sure as hell would, he thought. Besides, Lottie talked to him about those sorts of things. Maybe it was just gossip, or her “intuition” talking, but she’d told him that as much as Vic liked Lucas, she hadn’t completely recovered from him choosing someone else. He never would have guessed that, looking at her though. As much as he hated to admit it, she looked happy with Lucas.

But maybe after today, that would change.

“I think you should be worried about Lottie,” Lucas told him, and the rest of the men shifted uncomfortably. He knew they wouldn’t say it out loud, but Lucas did have a point. There was no way Lozza wouldn’t go into this challenge, guns blazing and aimed right at him. Still, he didn’t plan on hitting her as hard as he knew she would be hitting him.

“Maybe Lottie’ll surprise you,” Bobby whispered as he leaned over towards Gary. He sounded somewhat hopeful but Gary wondered if that was more of a way to ease his anxieties. Whatever the case, he shook his head and focused his attention on his notecard. Better to focus on this rather than what a disaster the challenge would be.

It seemed that bad feeling in his stomach had been for good reason, after all.

–––––§–––––

They all gathered in the living room for the challenge. A TV monitor had been set up so they would be able to watch each person face off against the lie detector. Already, Gary could feel his palms starting to sweat. He felt the same way he had when he’d faced his most difficult job at work, when one wrong tilt of the crane could have meant danger for everyone involved. It had been terrifying, truly, but he’d made it through without any issues or injuries. He just had to approach this the same way…right?

Chelsea was up first with Noah asking the questions. One thing he’d learned about Chelsea during the brief time they’d been coupled up, she couldn’t tell a lie to save her life. The girl was practically a truth machine: she meant everything she said. The lie detector test was no different, the overall mood in the living room seeming to relax when she passed with flying colors.

It didn’t last for very long.

“Henrik,” Hope began when it was his turn in the hot seat, “is there anyone else in the Villa you want to be coupled up with instead of Chelsea?”

“No.”

The blaring of the machine seemed to suck all of the air out of the room.

Hope looked surprised but assured him it was probably just the machine being fickle. That didn’t stop the rest of the Islanders from murmuring about the results, even though the next two questions came through as truths. Gary chanced a look back at Chelsea who looked as if she’d been sucker-punched, Vic’s arm wrapped firmly around the blonde as she whispered what Gary could only assume were reassurances into her ear.

Vic’s stormy gray eyes flickered over to him, almost as if she’d sensed he was looking at her. She looked…worried, like the weight of the situation was really and truly starting to settle in. What kinds of questions had she written for Lucas? Her partner had been pretty confident that she wouldn’t go in too hard on him but Gary had been confident of the exact opposite. Was she worried that she would get answers she didn’t want?

When Henrik came back into the living room, no one said anything. Chelsea wouldn’t look at him, choosing to lean more heavily into Vic’s side. Gary would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t feel a little bit bad for the guy, especially knowing that he could very well be in just as bad of shape after Lottie was through with him. He was saved from thinking about it too much by his phone going off, telling him that he would be the one administering the lie detector test next. But his relief was short-lived when Vic got to her feet, as well.

She was the one he’d be asking the questions to.

They made their way to the little room that had been designated for the challenge. The producers had him don a white lab coat while they got Vic hooked up to the machine. She looked uneasy as she settled into the chair, but he watched as she visibly braced herself, drawing in a deep breath before she steeled her shoulders.

Gary looked down at the list of questions Lucas had written, his eyes narrowing. They were kind of rough. Then again, Lucas hadn’t made any mentions of whether he would go easy on Vic or not, he’d merely decided that she wouldn’t go very hard on him. It seemed that what Gary had said might have swayed him a little…

“Okay, Vic,” he began when she was strapped to the machine. “Have you forgiven Lucas for coupling up with Blake?” he asked, and he watched her shift in her seat before shaking her head.

“No.”

The machine blinked green, dinging happily in response. “That’s true,” he said, unable to ignore the satisfaction that he felt upon hearing her answer. “Do you think that you and Lucas are compatible?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, and Gary could see her fingers flexing around the arms of the chair she was sitting in. “Yes,” she said, and the blaring of the machine made her flinch, the red light glowing brightly.

“That’s a lie.” Was that really that much of a shock? Sure, Vic and Lucas had been attached at the hip since she’d saved him from getting dumped along with the girl he’d picked over her, and yeah, Vic had appeared to be really happy with him, but that didn’t mean anything in terms of compatibility. Could you be compatible with someone that you didn’t trust?

He looked over the last question and fought the urge to visibly wince. If he’d had any doubts about where Vic stood with Lucas, this would certainly wipe them away, regardless of what the answer was. Either she was set on him, or she wasn’t, and the thought of the latter had hope creeping into his chest. Hope that he wished wasn’t there at all because he didn’t want to think about what that could mean.

“Vic, do you think your head could still be turned at this point in the competition?”

Gary could practically see the wheels turning in her head, could see her thinking long and hard over what to say. He wondered what she was thinking. This challenge really was a double-edged sword. Either you were honest and potentially hurt someone, or you lied and definitely hurt someone.

“Yes.”

The machine blinked green, making the same happy sound it had when she’d answered her first question. But Gary wasn’t focused on that, not when he could practically hear the gasp that must have sounded throughout the living room when she’d answered. The producers came in and helped get her unhooked from the lie detector a moment later, and he managed to catch her gaze.

“You okay?” he asked, and she nodded, though she looked far from it. Probably anxiously awaiting Lucas’s reaction. It wouldn’t be good, that was for sure.

They passed Lucas in the hallway on their way back to the living room, Lottie at his side to ask him his questions. He refused to meet Vic’s eyes, keeping his own fixed straight ahead. Gary saw the muscles in his tensed jaw jump when they passed him. And when they finally reached the living room, it was quiet enough Gary was sure he could’ve heard a pin drop.

He should’ve been paying attention to Lucas’s answers, to hear what Vic had asked him, but he couldn’t.

Do you think your head could still be turned at this point in the competition?

Yes.

He hated the way that made him feel.

Gary had always been an all-in sort of guy. When he committed to something, he always saw it through to the end. He didn’t know how to tap out early, didn’t know how to leave things incomplete even if it was better for everyone involved. His therapist had told him it had a lot to do with his dad, that he was incapable of walking away because it had been so easy for his dad to walk away. She’d also told him more times than he could count that he wasn’t his dad, that walking away from things didn’t make him a bad person. Sometimes, walking away was necessary.

He was really struggling with the actually doing it part of that plan.

Besides, they were so far along in the competition, he’d been positive that nothing could push him off course. Not until now. Not until he’d realized that Vic wasn’t as unobtainable as she had once been. But it was too late now, wasn’t it? Even though she’d said her head could still be turned, he was still with Lottie. And he liked Lottie. With all of her quirks and all the things that drove him up the wall about her, he still liked being around her and he couldn’t just walk away now. Even though it would be better for both of them if he did.

His worries over the lie detector test came back full force. What if Lottie asked him if he wanted to be coupled up with someone else? Or if his head could turn? If the answer was anything other than a resounding no––and it wouldn’t be a no––he knew she wouldn’t want anything to do with him and rightfully so. It made him sick to think that he would hurt her because he hadn’t been brave enough to walk away sooner, too wrapped up in not hurting her that he would end up doing it anyways.

“Whoah,” he heard someone say.

He came back to himself in time to hear the last question Vic had written for Lucas, Lozza’s voice ringing out clearly through the speakers of the TV. “Lucas, if you could be coupled up with Blake right now, would you?”

Lucas didn’t even hesitate, his “Yes” ringing out, followed shortly after by the machine blinking green, dinging happily despite the weight that single word carried. Gary glanced over at Vic but she didn’t look surprised, not in the slightest. He thought about earlier, when Lucas had wrapped his arm around her and hugged her close, how she’d smiled and looked so easy-going. How had that been only an hour or two ago?

When Lucas and Lottie re-entered the room, the mood seemed to grow even more tense, nothing but the occasional whisper to break the silence. Hope and Noah went next, their questions administered by Lucas and Vic, respectively, though Gary certainly wasn’t paying attention. God, today really had brought all of the cracks to the surface, huh? It was crazy to think that this close to the finals, their couples could very well fall apart, all because of a challenge. Were these lie detector tests even reliable? Weren’t they not allowed to be used in court because the results could be all screwy?

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hardly noticed when Lottie got up and left the room with Bobby, heading off to the room he’d been in not that long ago. The room he would be returning to in just a few minutes. Christ, were his palms sweating?

He could feel eyes on him, almost like everyone was already feeling guilty over what he was about to go through as soon as Lottie’s turn was over. He hadn’t asked any crazy questions, just the usual:

Do you enjoy being in a couple with Gary?

Do you think Gary is a good kisser?

Are you genuinely attracted to Gary?

But despite getting all of the answers he should have wanted, he didn’t feel any better. If anything, he felt about a million times more anxious, especially knowing what would likely come out when it was his turn in the hot seat. God, would anyone be able to look at him the same if he fucked this up? Would Vic?

Lottie came back in and she was smiling right at him, but he could see straight through her, could see the nerves lingering just under the surface. He hated that he’d given her a reason to be nervous, even though he knew it was warranted. He got to his feet when his phone buzzed, Hannah following suit. The hallway down to the room where that damn machine was felt like it stretched out for twenty mies.

The producers strapped him in and Hannah slid the lab coat on. God, the fact that Hannah of all people was administering the test made him want to puke.

“Gary,” she began, holding the notecard containing the questions that would seal his fate, “do you enjoy being coupled up with Lottie?”

“Yes,” he said, breathing out a sigh of relief when he saw that green light and heard that stupidly reassuring ding. His relief was short-lived, however, when Hannah moved on to the next question.

“Have you fancied any other girls except for Lottie in the Villa?” she asked, and he swallowed back the knot in his throat.

Lottie had to know this, right? He’d fancied Marisol, even Chelsea. Hell, she had to know he’d fancied Vic at one point considering the fact that he’d heard through the grapevine that she’d begged Vic not to pick him at the recoupling some weeks back. “Yes,” he said, and the machine lit up green again. God, he was going to hate that color by the time he left here.

“Hm.” Hannah didn’t seem amused by his answer but she didn’t comment on it, fixing her eyes back on the card. He swore he saw her smirk before she spoke again, the question he’d been dreading most posed on the tip of her tongue. “Gary. Is there anyone else in the Villa you’d rather be coupled up with?”

And there it was. He had two options here: he could be proud and own it and deal with the consequences, or he could lie and blame it on the machine being faulty (which Lottie wouldn’t believe). Either way, he was about to crash land. But if he was going to go up in flames, he would at least do it without lying to Lottie. Or to himself.

“Yes.”

The machine went green.

#litg gary #litg ff #litg fanfic #litg s2 #litg season 2

92 notes · View notes

shiyorin · 1 year

Text

A collection of somethings write for my ocs.

As Horus gazed upon Kether, he found himself increasingly captivated by her calm, shadowed grace. Where once he saw only a tool to be use, now a strange beauty emerged. His thoughts began to wander, imagining what pleasures might be found in her embrace. Arousal swelled at the notions of dominance and submission, as their roles of warlord and weapon were abandoned to fleshly delights. Kether would not protest or rage, but meet his every urge with a grim acceptance, as all things.

When alone, Horus found his fancies drifting towards remembrances of Kether's form, and the new depths of blood and violence that might be plumbed. He began to crave any excuse to summon Kether to his side, using duties as a mask for less seemly longings. Watching how her silent grace of movement gave way to fluid prowess in desire. Finding a kind of lust in their matched skills and passion for violence, now directed at pleasure rather than slaughter.

Though Kether remained as she ever was, a shadowed tool, Horus had begun to see in her a strange beauty and depth. A grim hope born in depravity.

When at last they came together, Horus found a strangeness matching his own. Kether met his every urge and demand as always, yet now with something like dark wonder.

A guilty, moving thrill, to have awakened such grim delight in one who should know only anguish, hatred and rage. To transcend even the grim purposes that had originally forged this tool into a weapon fitted for his hand.

______

While Horus wandered in his private thoughts, Kether remained as always, a silent, steady presence. However, her cognition was not so limited as he presumed. She perceived all.

Kether found a strange humor in Horus's wanderings. To think this primarch, so obsessed with damnation and doom, could discover arousal and wanton fancies regarding one who should know only anguish. It was oddly poignant.

She gave no sign of awareness, meeting his every demand and urge with the same grim acceptance as always. Let him believe her still a tool, if it soothed his conscience. Kether had transcended such pointless anguishes long ago.

If Horus wished to imagine dark delights, so be it. His fantasies could not truly damage or drag her down to new depths. She remained where she ever was, a shadow overlooking the abyss. His sins and vast imaginings like drifting fog, which could not touch her soothing grim.

While Horus boasted of finding new purpose through depravity, Kether saw only the faint flickers of a lost, foolish spirit finally breaking free of anguish's shackles. Groping for meaning in the dark. She would not interrupt such plodding progress.

His foolish thoughts and wicked delights could not touch her. She remained beyond such paltry anguishes and meaningless thrills, as always. Watching, perceiving, and finding a strange humor in this amoral fool's plunging into sins he mistook for transcendence.

Kether would keep Horus's secrets, as she did all things. Let him continue believing she remained blind to his gloomy wanderings and seeing only the tool he had forged her to be. The truth was, she saw and heard all. And found dark amusement where once only anguish might have stirred. His sins were jokes that made her laugh.

______

When Horus collapsed beside Kether, arousal and exertion leaving him breathless, she spoke at last. "Do you know why the Eversor cheers so loudly when charging into battle?"

Horus blinked, startled at the question and Kether's sudden turn to mirth. He had not heard her voice raised in anything other than scorn or anguish for as long as any could recall. "Why?" he asked.

"Because every kill brings them one step closer to finally being able to death!" Kether replied.

Horus found himself laughing. A grim, startled laugh, but laughter nonetheless. It had been so long since he remembered how to make or find humor in anything.

"You should tell it to the Emperor." Horus said "He might find it fitting, given He forged such tools with no purpose beyond slaughter or damnation."

Kether's lips twisted into something like a smile. "Some say that is the only purpose that could justify an Eversor's continued existence. We were made for death, so death alone gives us reason or joy."

"Yet you seem to have found more." Horus said, gazing up at Kether ponderously.

"As have you." Kether replied "At least tonight."

Horus sighed, he took Kether's hand, lacing their fingers together. A matched set. Kether merely nodded, a grim acceptance of fate as always.

The quiet that followed their laughter was a familiar, soothing thing. It was Horus who eventually broke the silence, asking questions that Kether had no desire to answer, yet would not protest. "What was she like, in your imaginations? The daughter you never bore."

Kether gazed into the shadows, seeing echoes of voices long silenced. "Cold." she said at last "And cunning. Trained from an early age, as all Imperial assassin are. She would have made a fine addition to them."

A hope, born of foolish optimism. To think new life and purpose could emerge even from her corpse-strewn path. A fool's hope, as always.

"Did you name her?" Horus asked, as if the question did not make a mockery of all that had been lost.

"Names have power." Kether replied, "And such power should not be given to any who might follow in my footsteps."

"Yet part of you wondered what might have been." Horus said, seeing darker truths that few ever perceived. The shadows that hid anguish, not absence of feeling.

"Maybe." Kether admitted, "But just a fleeting moment."

A strange poignancy emerged in her tone, rough edges that had long seemed polished smooth. Echoes of voices silenced by her hand, and shadows of capabilities forever forfeit.

"I think she would have enjoyed your dark jokes." Horus said, no doubt believing to pay her a kind solace.

Kether shrugged a shoulder, the gesture as uncanny as her short-lived smile. "Perhaps. We shall never know."

#My oc #Kether #for my ocs #shiyorin's writer

6 notes · View notes

melis-writes · 9 months

Text

To all my lovely followers, readers and mutuals, 💓 I just wanted to put out there the following because I've begun to notice a bit of a pattern in my ask box and I need to set some boundaries here. 😅

I'm just a humble writing wizard with an insatiable Godfather hyperfixation so when it comes to asks, I will not be answering the following kinds:

Asks about anything political/government related. I have zero care for politics as a topic and it's a very messy to get into. I can't help/provide advice on why/how others perceive your political views and I have zero interest in talking about politicians. That includes thirsting over politicians (Canadian PM is fine lol).

Deeply personal asks and rants. I'm sorry, but I can't help anyone or their friends with their life issues, marriages, faith-related issues and family problems even if you think I may have some knowledge or can relate to it.

Hateful asks. Some asks I have answered because there's a lot more than a snippet of hate to unpack and give my opinion on, but solely hateful asks (you know the drill; slurs, death threats, violence, etc) towards anyone/anything isn't tolerated whatsoever.

Submissions/requests on things outside my scope of comfort. My pinned post has a lot of information about my fics, writing style, etc. Highlighted at the top is a link to my "Fic and Prompt Requests Info" page. Here you'll find a post of things I do and don't write for. It would be impossible or me to list every single thing ever in the world that I would not be comfortable with writing so even if it's not on that list, please don't take it personally if I don't answer/post your submission/request ask. It may have a kink or context that I am uncomfortable writing and posting. I will not share/post it regardless to "inspire" others because it's an ask I'm uncomfortable with in the first place.

Requests when requests are closed. I have had fics/oneshot requests closed for 2 years now because I'm in my multi-chapter fic era. There's just no way with my personal life, other hobbies and full time work that I can balance writing every oneshot requested and my own fics at the same time. Please respect this. It is written on my pinned page and mentioned several times throughout various pages and posts on my blog. While I do take prompt requests actively (these are snippets of writing answered in an ask, not a full out oneshot which is completely different), I'm not actively writing them at the moment because I want to focus on my multi-chapter fics for the forseeable future. Any requests I do receive will either be answered with that I don't take requests and thanking you for it, I will not answer most. It's starting to become very tiring to repeat this: I am not accepting requests at this time.

Thank you for understanding. ❤️

#melly talks #updates

5 notes · View notes

subliminalbo · 1 year

Text

A Not At All Comprehensive List of Mind Controllers Featured in Various Series On This Blog

The fun thing about hypnokink is that there's so much variety in the methods of mind control and kinds of stories you can show and tell. If you're ever thinking, "Bo, you have way too many stories running at once, just pick one and finish it." Well, like, that's your opinion, man. The truth is I get bored focusing on one thing for too long so I've always maintained some variety in my uploading. I try not to write a chapter in the same series back to back, but ultimately I follow my inspiration.

Anyway, this is part teaser, part primer on some of the OCs who make these stories possible. I've been writing these stories for ten years so I've had a lot of time to establish protagonists and villains. I included the series that they largely appear in, most of which I've begun posting here to Tumblr (with the exception of New Thralls and Betas which uh, may take a while to get to).

Mina Carpenter Featured in New Thralls

The president of Carpenter State University and mayor of Romero. Mina masquerades as the great granddaughter of CSU's founder, Alabaster Carpenter, but she's actually his sister. Since 1920, Mina has shared her body with an ancient spirit that feeds on sex, in turn allowing her to maintain her youth by absorbing the energy released by an orgasm. She has long maintained the Carpenters' power in Romero by commanding a small legion of female thralls in high positions. Lawyers, politicians, business owners, even the librarian. You never know who may secretly have fallen under her spell.

Dr. Sylvia Fielding Featured in Dirty Work, Alphas, and Betas

The head of the psychology department at Carpenter State University. Dr. Fielding specializes in the psychology of submission. She's a skilled hypnotist and experiments with her students to further her research into the mind. If you've ever visited Dr. Fielding's office, you've probably fallen victim to her hypnosis. Sylvia also works closely with Dr. Roger Pierce, Dean of Arts and Sciences, to cover up some of the bizarre, supernatural incidents that happen around campus, using her special skills to command a pair of student "cleaners" without ever compromising Carpenter State's secrets.

Madison Wells Featured in Alphas

A young hypnotist and and Dr. Fielding's protege. Madison has always been a narcissist, but her inherent desire to dominate her peers was first unlocked by Dr. Fielding. With her inhibitions removed, Madison sets her sights on her sorority. Madison uses a VR program developed by a horny student at Carpenter State to brainwash her sisters, reinforcing their programming through frequent hypnosis and liberal reapplications of the program. Madison is different than Dr. Fielding in that she controls people as a means for gaining more power and wealth, first to climb to the top of her sorority and then to the top of the university.

Elena Maxwell Featured in Fleur-de-lis and Obedience By Fleur

The founder and former CEO of Fleur-de-lis. Elena is a retired model who challenges the dominant market position of rival lingerie company Confidential by poaching the brand's own models. Using mind control research that her deceased husband once financed, Elena subdues and reprograms Confidential models, influencing them to sign contracts with Fleur-de-lis.

Ed King Featured in Obedience By Fleur

The man behind the scenes at present day Fleur-de-lis, King comes in after Elena Maxwell's resignation and is responsible for the rollout of Obedience by Fleur. He considers himself a young marketing guru, though he didn't find success in the industry until the proliferation of mind altering advertising. He has a profound mean streak and takes pleasure in wielding power over the Fleur-de-lis models, especially Kiley Mara who he has recently taken as his personal slave. These days King has shifted his focus from the Obedience rollout to protecting Fleur-de-lis and its new technologies from congressional oversight.

The Master Featured in Assimilation and Betas

A mysterious entity that stalks the forests of Romero, the Master takes the form of a black parasitic liquid that, when ingested, alters the physical makeup of its consumer. Victims call themselves vessels, carrying the Master in their bodies while returning to their regular lives until called upon again. The Master can communicate telepathically and control human minds even without making a physical connection. Transformation grants vessels similar psychic abilities and a telepathic connection to all members of the colony. Vessels are able to subdue their victims telepathically just like the Master, though their range appears to be far more limited. Slowly, the Master has spread indiscriminately through Romero with little clue as to its origins or goals.

#hypnokink #mind control #inside hypnoball

7 notes · View notes

pumpkin-spice-whump · 10 months

Note

yellow! its me again!! its much earlier now than the last time i messaged here😗 (though it is still admittedly late🤡) i think i am going to sleep soon but i wanted to tell you that i had begun reading your story for Kensington!

i am currently at Bonfire (i think that was the name? im sorry if i butchered or mistaken it for other fics i have been reading😖) and like your stories for Jesse, Kensington's story is also incredibly painful to read😭

i think its the fact that unlike Jesse, Kesi has (arguably) even less dignity as his status as an ouright slave rather than at least a pet or boxboy coupled by the fact he also has (definitively? at least in my interpretation) much much less external reason/s to continue struggling and living (i guess there is Miss Ashley🥺 but Jesse at least got to spend so much more time with the three sweet Bakeman daughters)(i dont want to spoil much to not ruin the others' experience)

i know the two squishy whumpees arent exact copies of each other but i still find it so deliciously heartwrenching that Jesse is much more submissive mostly in part because of the bbu brainwashing or mind/memory wiping (i think this is common in bbu whump so i think its okey for me to mention it explicitly?) while Kensi who (i understand/interpret) was born and raised and lived his whole life as a slave is much more stubborn and defiant.

again i apologize if im missing or misinterpreting something also i know i cant or at least maybe shouldnt draw direct parallels between the two because theyre from two similar but still different worldbuildings with their own set of messed up rules and hiarchies.🤸‍♂️💔

again again it is late and i hope to fix my sleep schedule soon so i can read your works and message you when my braincells can organize my brain goop into something more coherent. i really hope you understand that all this word vomit is laced with love🤕💗

-💌

When i tell you that yesterday and today's asks both made my crappy days instantly better --

First of all thank you so much for reading both of my boys' stories and I'm so glad you like them

Yes, Jesse is extremely submissive in part because of the brainwashing WRU does, but also because Joshua was like that too. His dad passing away when he was younger gave him pretty severe OCD and anxiety that made Josh an unassuming, nervous boy, so his already quiet disposition was only worsened when coupled with the torture he had to face. One thing that always stuck with him though is his protectiveness over those he cares about. WRU did not give that to him, that was just Jesse.

Kensington's story takes place in a different universe where they do have a slavery system where slaves are born and raised that way. I like that you mentioned that Kensi is more stubborn and jaded, because that was not how I meant for him to turn out originally! I meant for him to be more submissive like Jesse, but the more I wrote the angrier Kensington got until I really came to a head in his story (can't wait for you to read the next few parts!)

Never apologize for analyzing my characters! I live for it, and I actually appreciate you drawing parallels between these two. They may be from different worlds, but they both come from me and I enjoy seeing them compared to one another actually! We're to a point in both stories that I have been very excited to come to and this gave me the motivation to keep writing!

(Sorry if my response doesn't make sense or isn't what you were looking for!)

#get some sleep! its 9 am here but get some sleep!#thank you #asks #jesse asks #kensi asks

2 notes · View notes

slickshoesareyoucrazy · 1 year

Text

Submission and Insecurity

This post might be more graphic and will almost surely be more personally vulnerable and revealing than what folks are used to seeing me write. But here's where I'm at today (this whole past week). Proceed at your own risk.

A couple years ago, someone asked another blogger I still consider a good friend if sub frenzy recurred. Like, it was understood that a new submissive may experience that feeling of wanting to lean way in, to the point of maybe going overboard or to an unhealthy place, because of the newness and adrenaline fueled excitement that comes with self discovery and fun activities. And my friend asked me to put input on it. I said yes, for me sub frenzy does recur, and it happens when I'm really insecure. I've been inside of one of these episodes this week for a lot of reasons, some I'm sure I'm not even aware of myself, but suffice it to say, this desire for deeper, even extreme submission comes when I'm feeling disappointed and abandoned and hurt by other people, and unsure of who to trust and who values me.

It happens because I know J is a sure thing. He rarely if ever hurts me or lets me down. He's never deserted or ghosted me or not shown up for me when he said he would or when I needed him to; I normally don't even have to ask. He just wants to be there for me. And I know I can trust him because of this. And I know he values me because of this. So when I get to a place where I think maybe all I really have is J, my instinct and virtually overruling desire is to just give him everything.

I'm aware of sub frenzy and I know it's real, just like way back when I met J and didn't even know what D/s or kink actually was, I was aware of 'new relationship energy' and that it is real. But with J, I've begun to think, after all this time together, that the how and why of my recurring sub frenzy maybe isn't sub frenzy. Maybe it's just an expression of what I actually want my life to be. Because it keeps coming back to me, arguably stronger and stronger, the longer we're in this together.

To me, submission is an expression of security with and about J, and my so-called sub frenzy is a response to my insecurity with and about other people.

Finally a sort of specific example from earlier today. I have a friend (friend should probably be typed 'friend' here) who is local; one of the only local people I associate with, and she made plans with me for lunch today. She's canceled every set of plans we've made together since November of 2021. She's made I'll say 75% of them but canceled 100%. She canceled again today, as I was literally walking out the door to meet her. And the first thing I did was text J. I've spent most of this week doing a LOT of kinky things J has instructed me to do when I'm home alone during high school hours for our son. So J's answer to my text was:

"Be honest. You're kind of happy she canceled on you today, aren't you? You wanted to stay home and do what you're told."

He's right. I was happy she canceled so I could stay home, acting my submission to J out very deliberately. I didn't feel insecure today even though I got canceled on...again.

#submission #having a lot of fantasy lately and the thing about J is when he discovers me fantasizing he starts moving it toward reality #it's been a fun week 😈#and also a comforting one

4 notes · View notes

tangleweave · 2 years

Text

{OOC Note: Because this is an RP blog, normally I would attach a reply to the bottom of this. But it hits me so damn hard, I really and honestly don't have the words for it just now. It's so incredibly moving and powerful, my analysis is that it stands strong on its own. In fact, I'm coming up with a drabble to write in eventual reply, but here and now, in this moment, this submission deserves its own spotlight. This is masterful writing and I count myself as one of the luckiest people on Earth to call @brooklynislandgirl my writing partner and one of my dearest friends. I am utterly and thoroughly blown away. I raise a glass to you, D, and hope that my prose can find its way to equaling yours.}

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You're my Hokupa'a, Stephen."

She turns away from his windows and the tender smile on her full lips is curved only for him, the wine-red stain she wears almost perfectly matching the dress that wraps around her frame. Each step is graceful, accentuates her natural beauty. She stops only a hand-span away from him and reaches up, adjusting the tie at his throat, retucking the points of the shirt's collar. Heavy lidded gaze however meets his and doesn't shy away. In their depths he can see alternate suggestions for their evening.

They don't have to go to the awards ceremony, presenting him with a physical token of his genius, the pioneering of the Strange Technique. That instead they could pop open the incredibly rare, incredibly expensive bottle of 1959 Dom Perignon champagne she's got perfectly chilled for their private celebration. That they could leave a trail of their clothes from living room to their bed. That he could drink the heady brew from every curve and hollow of her body before making love to each other the whole night through.

Beth has never been more in love with her husband than she is right now, and pride radiates from every fibre of her being.

"And now, da whole world can see why."

~*~

"You came."

It carries the connotation of 'who let you in here'. And she lets that anger rise up without considering trying to mollify it. Anger is a purifying fire that lays waste to doubt and to pain when the conflagration burns hot enough, she knows this all too well. Love is the only other emotion that can both cure and cauterise in equal measures and she knows that is too much to ask of him.

She lifts her head from how it had been bowed, the dark circles under her eyes speaking to the red eyed international flight, and all the way across her Mother's eastern arm, she'd prayed. She'd begged for his life. One of only two things she'd ever asked for in her entire life. And if the gods could not grant her this one boon, she prayed that his would end peacefully, that he would be spared from the exquisite anguish she could feel racing through his system and pooling in his arms, his chest, his face.

Even now the ravages are painful to look on. The same side of his mouth where his often sardonic smile lifted at the corner is swollen, twisted. The cut is deep. It is as furious as the rest of him. That same side's eye, tumescent and bruised, sealed shut. All of the lacerations. And still he is the most beautiful man she's ever seen. Maybe even more so now, inexplicably. He would say it was her bleeding heart for stray and broken things. She would have countered with the fact that he'd been broken long before they even met, so maybe he's right.

She can't bear to look at his hands, not yet. She has work to do, yet.

"Of course I did."

Under her breath, she finishes the chant she'd begun hours ago; entreating Lono, the god of healing, to make instruments of her hands. She lifts up scissors with surprisingly steadiness before she makes the first incision to the bandages. They become tinged with a new bloom of crimson, though this time, it isn't his blood. Everything comes with a cost, and she will sacrifice all of herself if that is what is required to heal him.

"Not da Admiral, not da hospital staff... Even da Gods wouldn't stop me from reachin' you, Stephen. Maybe not even you, yaself, could."

~*~

"Forceps."

She hands over the instrument.

"Ten-blade."

She waits to let go until she's sure he's got a grip.

"Spreader."

"Oh my god, Fen. It's a pizza, and I don' even eat dat much, your lines don' have t' be perfect."

The look on his face, she immediately laughs and sets her hand on the back of his wrist.

"I love you."

That peaked brow lift.

"Doesn't mean dat I won't eat you if you don't hand ovah da plate."

He laughs, and maybe her heart flutters a little.

Or it could be hunger pains.

It doesn't matter, he's plucked a slice of mushroom off her half, and feeds it to her.

~*~

Maybe he said her name. Maybe it's just the sensation of his knuckles against the arch of her cheek and the subsequent flinch because she doesn't want him putting even the slightest pressure on his scars. Maybe it's the sound of his heartbeat echoing in her ear and urging hers to match its mostly tranquil pace. Maybe its a far more simple and ultimately more complicated answer than that.

But whatever it is, Beth's lashes flutter. Gives the impression of storm clouds passing over the tropical canopy of her gaze before they lower fully to conceal her eyes, which themselves drop to the vicinity of his feet. Looking down but not away. Never away. Her throat rises and falls with a breath, which leaves her as a self-deprecating little laugh. Not one that curves her lips. Not one that wrinkles the corners of her nose and shows him her teeth. This is softer, much more delicate a thing because she's grasping at an apology. An excuse.

Something she's done a hundred, a thousand, times before. Mostly because she can't bear to shoulder even the idea of his disappointment.

"Sometimes I... I get small kine los' in your eyes."

#answered prompts #brooklynislandgirl #beth riley #muse: strange #submission

3 notes · View notes

celticgaels · 2 years

Text

Hello! Welcome to the Blog!

Requests: Closed for commissions and open for writing

Introduction:

Hi! My name is Taff. I occupy exactly zero braincells most of the time but feel free to message me or send me an ask! I'm a budding (insecure) artist that honestly needs a lot of practise but I think I feel ready to show some of my work. I write as well and have been writing more than I have been drawing, especially digitally, but I love learning new techniques to make my crafts better. This blog is centred mostly around OCs of mine for LEGO Ninjago and as such is recommended for those 18 and over considering the nature of my OCs and the world that comes with them.

This blog is a side blog, so likes, follows and replies in the notes will come from my main, @friedchocolate

Besides LEGO Ninjago, my other interests/fandoms are:

Marvel

Baldur's Gate

Fallout

The Elder Scrolls

The Witcher

Red Dead Redemption

The Last of Us

Uncharted

The Hobbit & Lord of the Rings

A Plague Tale

Rules:

Not much really phases me but there's still some lines I won't cross

I'm okay with writing/making art of nsfw topics seeing as my characters and the Aldmerrow Chapter do contain nsfw themes, but for now, I'll take writing requests because I personally feel that my art is not up to standard for frequent art posts just yet.

Do NOT repost or edit my art. This includes using it in a video edit and posting it onto sites like Pinterest or Deviantart. If I make a piece for you to use, do what you will, but I will not take off my watermark.

I'd prefer to keep my OC content to myself so please don't claim such things as your own. It took me years to develop everything and it's very precious to me

I will not answer asks regarding ships about Lloyd that I feel are inappropriate, such as ships with him and other ninja/older characters

I also have tokophobia (fear of and general aversion to pregnancy) and am not entirely fond of children so I would appreciate such topics to not be brought up.

Where writing requests are concerned, the above is relevant. Regarding nsfw themes like those of a sexual nature, there are things I can and cannot do for personal reasons. If you want to request such a thing from me, please see my writing rules page before sending an ask.

Note: If I'm tagged in something or mentioned in the notes/comments and I don’t respond for a little while, like a day or so, it's because I likely didn't get notified and tumblr likes to not let me see notifications so feel free to message me the post just in case re-tagging doesn't work. Usually it should, though.

Tags:

My usual tags consist of:

#anon – in this tag you can find posts with asks from anons

#mutual – in this tag you can find posts with asks from mutuals

#tw [blank] – in this tag you can find posts which may have triggering content or content not for minors

#ninjago / #ninjago oc – in this tag you can find posts that include talk of the original characters or ninjago as a whole

#oc: taliah – in this tag you can find posts that mention or are focused around taliah

#oc: erebos – in this tag you can find posts that mention or are focused around erebos

#art / my art – in this tag you can find posts that have art that is either submitted to the blog or art that is of my own work

#writing / my writing – in this tag you can find posts that include writing submitted to the blog or in which the blog is tagged, or my own writing

#aldmerrow lore – in this tag you can find posts that are focused on the lore of the made up world of aldmerrow from which taliah and erebos reside

#headcanon – in this tag you can find posts that have headcanons that are either submissions, asks, or my own

The Aldmerrow Chonicles:

The Aldmerrow Chronicles is something I've been working on since the show first came out back in 2011 alongside the two OCs that gave birth to it. I never intended to make a fan-season, but as I developed it over time, it's begun to feel that way. It works as the focus season for my two OCs, Taliah of Gideon and her partner Erebos the archgriffin. I post concepts and designs for it from time to time because actually writing the damn thing has been an on and off thing (but lets ignore the multiple info dumps and roleplays I've done with friends about it) so a fanfiction for the time being will be unavailable to the public. You can find all sorts of content for the Aldmerrow Chronicles under the allocated tags.

A brief intro, but as time goes on I'm sure more will be added and changes will be made!

#long post #intro post #no reblogging please bc yikes man #pinned post

2 notes · View notes

thedesultorydiaries · 1 year

Text

Four Years Later…The Board game, the novel and John Wick

Grief is not a straight line.

Almost four years have passed since my wife’s funeral. The last remnants of the pandemic had begun to vanish: Xavier was back in school and mask-less faces had become the norm.

At Ele’s Place, I became more of a supporting listener rather than being a person who needed support. While I empathize and honed my active listening skills, I felt I didn’t need the other widows/widowers to return the favor. Despite continuing with Xavier’s child support group, leaving my own spousal support group had become an appealing option for me. It felt like I had somehow cultivated stoicism within myself.

I was wrong. A wave of feelings–almost as if I were bi-polar–struck me these last six months. I could be laughing at life’s trivial matters one minute, then be sobbing the next. Other emotions like anger, guilt, jealousy also appeared in daily spurts.

These extreme sliding scales of emotion are not new. I felt them after the funeral and now four years later, I’m feeling them again.

The Board game

The biggest change in my Post-Z/pandemic life happened last December. I had somehow, by chance, forged a deal to start a game development company. When my business partner asked me what I wanted to name the company, I had no choice but to name it Zey’s Games–my wife’s nickname in the Philippines.

Throughout the first quarter of the year I went deep into game-development, illustrating on my tablet and printing things out on cardstock and cardboard. With the funding in hand, we were able to hire play testers to see if the board game I made was enjoyable. To my delight, many of my play testers said it was awesome.

Since it’s a cooperative board game and not a competitive board game, the play testers had to work together. Watching this random assortment of people–a waitress, a semi-professional gambler, a guy living on unemployment, a pregnant lady, a car mechanic and an exotic dancer– collaborate to defeat this board game was both exciting and intriguing. My job had become part business owner/game designer/social scientist.

A common feature in cooperative board games is that the difficulty becomes higher when there are more people. The game I designed is easier to beat with three people than it is to work with five or more. So when the first six player team beat my game in late March, it was a breakthrough. Not only did the six players participating in the game cheered but the other six play testers waiting to play also celebrated with applause. Twelve people, who didn’t know each other, had gathered and conquered this game I created. I felt like the director of operations at mission control during a successful rocket launch.

The energy in the room lifted me up but was quickly dashed by the realization that I couldn’t share this moment with my wife.

The Novel

I also finished writing a novel. I started writing it in 2015. It’s about a detective who goes back to his hometown of Ann Arbor to solve a mystery that haunted him in his youth.

I even went so far to submit it to agencies and publishers. After about eighty submissions, I had two letters of interest. These interested parties, who read the completed manuscript, have not led me to a book deal yet, sadly. However, it’s encouraging enough that I am going to give my novel one more draft and re-submit.

Z actually read the first few chapters before she died.

While thrilled I was able to complete it, like my board game, the personal fulfillment can’t be shared with my spouse.

John Wick

Z. was a big fan of the John Wick movies. She was able to see the first two. The third one came out while she was in hospice care.

John Wick, also a widower, wore his wedding ring through the first two movies.

When I finally saw John Wick Chapter 3, a month after Z.’s funeral, I had taken off my wedding ring. In that movie (spoiler warning), as a sacrifice, John Wick had to chop off his finger along with his wedding ring.

While unspoken, societal expectations nudge you into parting ways with the trinket. And for a while I was fine not wearing it. During the pandemic, where social interactions were few, not wearing my ring was no big deal. I complied with putting the mask on and taking the wedding ring off.

Then this year, with mask-less faces and social interactions becoming the norm, the anxiety and all the emotions, urged me to put the ring back on. Thinking back, truthfully, I didn’t want to take it off. I was just following the unsaid protocol of conforming to societal standards.

Not anymore. I’m going to keep wearing my ring until I have better reasons not to.

Fittingly, John Wick Chapter 4 came out this year. Spoiler warning: at the start of the film, John Wick goes searching for his wedding ring.

Adjustment Disorder with Depressed Mood

Last year, I wrote that “clarity was elusive”. This year, I gained some clarity by naming a company after my wife. By doing that, I thought, closure would come as well. It didn’t. I’m less confused, but the emotions are more potent. The pandemic had warped time and abated these feelings I’m now reckoning with. Psychologically–or at least what my health care provider calls it–is Adjustment disorder with depressed mood.

I once said that my wife was the female version of George Bailey from It’s a Wonderful Life. Like George Bailey, Z had an inherent gravitational pull. She was able to gather people, from all walks of life towards her.

After being in semi-isolation these past few years and re-entering society, I’ve met a lot of new people–from play testers, the people at Ele’s Place, my writer’s workshops; plus, most recently, a mental health therapist. I take solace knowing I’ve gained additional support to go along with my family and longtime friends. My wife might be gone, but her gravitational pull remains active.

Imagine Christmas eve during a power failure. It’s still Christmas eve, but with the absence of colorful lights, being festive requires greater effort.

Before this year, I succeeded in existing without my wife, but now living without her is the greater challenge.

1 note · View note