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fushitoru · 3 months ago

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chapter 8: the lake a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, making out, touching bare skin pre-marriage (the scandal), eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ both you and gojo discover contradictory feelings lodged deep in your heart, and a confrontation (with an unexpected ally) leads to a rather....wet conclusion. (4.6k)

a/n additional warning that this chapter is not beta read. this may seem like a short chapter but it has TEAAAA (if you didnt already guess from the summary). i pushed myself to finish this for the peeps who finished finals this week so it may be a bit messy. anywho see u down below <3

prev. the rebound | next. the embers

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Dearest gentle reader,

This Author finds herself most intrigued by the unfolding events of the Inos' recent ball. It appears that Her Majesty has not yet abandoned her faith in the diamond she so carefully selected. Will her confidence prove to be misplaced? Only time shall reveal the truth. Yet one cannot deny that fortune seems to shine—dare this Author say, sparkle—upon Miss Itadori of late.

Last evening, she graced the ballroom with a strikingly altered appearance, one that left tongues wagging and gazes lingering. Most notable, however, was the company she kept. Duke Nanami himself was seen at her side, engaged in conversation that appeared both earnest and uncommonly animated. A rare sight indeed, for His Grace has shown little interest in the charms of other young ladies this season. Could this be the beginning of something extraordinary? This Author will watch closely.

And who could forget the Gojo house party, where the drama rivaled even the most lurid novels of the circulating library? Whispers abound of a certain Lord Naoya Zen’in, who, it seems, departed the event looking rather... bruised, both in pride and in visage. What transpired to cause such a spectacle? Alas, my sources have yet to provide all the particulars, but one can only assume that tempers flared—and perhaps fists followed.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Satoru wipes his knuckles on a spare handkerchief, marring it with streaks of crimson. After the blood coating his hand is cleaned off, it reveals light bruises.

He always abhorred such physical entanglements. Let other men soil their reputations in drunken brawls or duels over imagined slights; Satoru prided himself on wit and charm, a tongue sharp enough to parry any insult.

However, for the first time, it seemed that the blasé duke-to-be Lord Satoru Gojo, ever so apathetic to others and their struggles, was not so blasé anymore. What affected him was contradictory; after all, he had made a big decision to avoid being affected by the woman herself. So why was he so…inconsistent? Perhaps it is this unpredictability, capriciousness the reason he has to distance himself from any others who may be in harm’s way—the way forged by Satoru himself. There is no space for inconstancy, irresponsibility, whimsicality, or contradiction in his life, especially not with his duties and the weight held over his shoulders.

But he allows himself this, one last time. Your expression lingered in his mind—the way your lips parted in shock, the stiff set of your shoulders as you brushed past Naoya’s lecherous words without deigning to respond. He had seen the moment your composure faltered, a crack in the armor you wore so effortlessly. The crack only he was supposed to cause.

It was intolerable.

As soon as pale pink ribbons trail out of the room, he moves toward Naoya, completely ignoring the lady who was talking to him and her trailing protests. When he’s right in front of the other man, he gives him a curt nod. “Naoya.”

The other man’s eyes—which were before no doubt prowling on other unsuspecting ladies—flit to him in surprise. “Lord Gojo, what a pleasant surprise. I daresay—”

“Meet me in the courtyard,” Satoru interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Naoya’s brows shot up, but he recovered quickly, a sly grin curling his lips. “A private word? How intriguing. Lead the way, my lord.”

Satoru didn’t wait to see if he followed. His stride was steady, his purpose unwavering.

The cool air of the courtyard carried the faint strains of music from the ballroom, the chatter of guests dimmed by the stone walls. Satoru turned to face Naoya, his stance deceptively relaxed, one hand resting on the pommel of his cane.

“Now, my lord,” Naoya drawled, his smirk widening. “To what do I owe this rather dramatic summons?”

The reply came not in words but in the swift arc of Satoru’s fist, connecting solidly with Naoya’s jaw. The sharp crack of the blow shattered the stillness, and Naoya stumbled, clutching his face as shock registered in his eyes.

“What in blazes—”

“Hold your tongue,” Satoru bit out, seizing Naoya by the lapels of his coat and slamming him back against the cold, unyielding wall. His tone was calm, his voice low, but it carried a menace that silenced all protests. “You will not speak of her in that way again. Do you understand me?”

Naoya grimaced, his defiant eyes narrowing despite the pain. “Ah,” he sneered, a breathless rasp laced with derision, “this is about Miss Itadori, isn’t it? Playing the chivalrous hero, are we, Lord Gojo? Or is it your own wounded ego driving this display?”

The next punch silenced him mid-taunt, burying deep in his abdomen. Naoya doubled over with a strangled gasp, his knees threatening to buckle, but Satoru held him upright, his grip vice-like.

“Speak her name again,” Satoru hissed, leaning close, his voice cold enough to chill even the night air, “and I swear you’ll find yourself in far worse condition.”

The tension between them crackled like a storm. For a fleeting moment, Naoya’s lips twitched into the ghost of a sneer, but his words died unspoken, arrogance muted by the sheer force of Satoru’s fury. Satisfied, Satoru released him with a sharp shove, watching dispassionately as Naoya crumpled against the wall, gasping for breath.

“You are mad,” Naoya spat, wiping at the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You’ll ruin yourself over this.”

“Perhaps,” Satoru replied evenly, smoothing the cuffs of his sleeves as though nothing had happened. “But I’ve never much cared for your opinion, Naoya.”

He turned on his heel, his steps measured, his expression impassive.

The sting in his knuckles was a small price to pay. Unfortunately it seemed that for you, it was a price he would pay again and again.

He had told himself the decision was rational. Logical. Your match had to cease because it had begun to unravel him. You were a distraction, one he could not afford. His life was designed for control, every action measured, every move calculated. A match with you, he had realized, would be unlike any other. It would mean more. It would demand more.

And yet, how could he feel this jealousy? This fierce protectiveness? It was contradictory, maddening even. His resolve to avoid entanglements of the heart warred against the memory of your laughter echoing through his mind. It was absurd, but he could not dismiss the sharp ache in his chest whenever you looked at another man, especially one so undeserving as Naoya Zen’in.

He had known from the start that you were different. No coy smiles or simpering obedience. No easy conquest to stroke his ego. Your instant rejection of him during your first meeting had been a blow to his pride and a revelation he had been too stubborn to acknowledge then.

Satoru was not a man who chased after women. He had no need to. And yet…

But even as he walked away, Satoru couldn’t help but feel the cracks in his own carefully constructed armor widening. What, indeed, was he doing?

You startle in your sleep, sitting up abruptly on your bed in the dark.

The season has taken a turn for the good, so far. With Whistledown singing your praises and the Queen not yet deciding to behead you, you were on the path of securing great prospects, whether it be with Duke Nanami or someone else.

“But you’re missing something, aren’t you?”

The voice is a low murmur, brushing the shell of your ear like the ghost of a touch. Your heart leaps to your throat as you twist toward the sound, your eyes darting across the dimly illuminated room. The corners of the chamber remain steeped in shadow, the moonlight doing little to ease your apprehension.

“Who’s there?” you whisper, clutching the sheets tighter, your knuckles whitening around the fabric.

The silence stretches, thick and oppressive, before a figure emerges from the shadow near the mantle. He moves with a predator’s grace, his steps silent against the floorboards. Even before he fully steps into the moonlight, you know who it is.

Gojo.

“You look startled, my lady,” he says, his voice carrying an infuriatingly casual lilt, though his gaze fixes on you with unnerving precision.

“This is a dream,” you murmur, your voice trembling despite your effort to remain calm. “You are not real.”

“And yet,” he replies. “here I am. Curious, isn’t it?”

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat refusing to budge. He’s closer now, standing at the foot of your bed, his pale hair catching the silvery light like a halo—an angel or a devil, you can’t decide. “What do you want, Lord Gojo?” you demand, your voice sharper than you feel.

His eyes sweep over you, lingering for a moment too long before meeting your gaze again. “To commend you, of course,” he says. “You’ve been doing well—dancing with dukes, charming the Queen. The season’s darling.”

His words cut, though you can’t say why. “Why does that matter to you?” you snap, sitting straighter, as though defiance could shield you from the heat simmering in his gaze.

“It doesn’t,” he replies smoothly, though the corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk that betrays him.

“Then why are you here?”

His answer doesn’t come in words. Instead, he steps closer, his boots brushing the edge of your rug. Slowly, deliberately, he reaches out, his gloved hand catching a strand of hair that’s fallen loose. He rolls it between his fingers, as though testing its silkiness, before letting it slip away. “Because I can’t seem to stay away,” he murmurs. His voice is low, meant only for you, and it sends a shiver through your body.

You scoff, though the sound catches in your throat. “You’re insufferable.”

His chuckle is soft, a deep rumble that seems to linger in the air. “And yet, you don’t look away.”

Your fists clench around the sheets, anger flaring in your chest—anger at him, at yourself, at the fact that he’s right. Before you can stop yourself, you throw the covers aside and rise to your feet.

He doesn’t step back. Instead, he stands still, a study in casual defiance, though his gaze flickers with something you can’t name as you move closer. His eyes lazily drag up and down your frame, which you notice is only covered in a flimsy, almost translucent nightgown.

“If this is a dream,” you say, your voice trembling with fury and something unspoken, “then it doesn’t matter what I do, does it?”

His smirk falters, replaced by a glimmer of uncertainty that only fans the reckless fire inside you. “Perhaps not,” he murmurs, though the tension in his voice betrays him.

Your hands shake as you reach out, your fingers curling into the lapels of his coat. His eyes follow the movement, then stare back at you, into your eyes. For a brief moment, his breath hitches, and his hands twitch at his sides, as though warring with the instinct to touch you. But the flicker of surprise in his eyes tells you he didn’t expect this.

With a sharp tug, you pull him closer, your lips meeting his in a collision of unspoken longing, yearning, and pining. The kiss is unsteady at first, as if both of you are testing the waters, but it quickly deepens, becoming a clash of fire and desperation. His hands find your waist, his grip firm but not demanding, as if he’s holding on to something precious.

You press closer, letting the reckless freedom the dream gave you sweep you away. His lips part against yours, and the kiss turns slower, more deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment, savoring you, devouring you. But then, his hands shift, moving from your waist with a slow, tantalizing seductiveness. They skim over your hips, his touch deliberate, before trailing down to the curve of your thighs. His fingers brush over the soft fabric of your nightgown, the heat of his touch searing through the barrier like it isn’t there.

Your breath hitches as he lingers, his thumb tracing a path along the sensitive skin just above your knee. The sensation is electric, and yet it feels like forbidden ground—an intimacy you’ve never dared to imagine, even in your most audacious thoughts.

It’s then that the dream begins to unravel.

His form flickers, as though caught in the haze of a mirage, the sharp lines of his figure softening. The room darkens, the corners of your vision blurring as though the world is folding in on itself.

“No,” you whisper, the word barely audible over the sound of your own pounding heart.

He looks at you one last time, his eyes filled with an intensity that feels as real as your racing pulse. And then he’s gone, the dream dissolving into nothingness, leaving you gasping and clutching the sheets. When you wake, the echo of his touch lingers, the heat of his hands on your thighs an ache you can’t explain. You press trembling fingers to your lips, your breath catching as though the kiss was still happening.

But no matter how much you try, you can’t shake the memory of his hands, of the way he’d touched you like he belonged there. Like he had always belonged there.

You choose to blame the irregular slumber you have gotten this past fortnight as the reason why you are being so discourteous. For Duke Nanami’s words drift your mind, never truly being registered, as you both had strolled, promenading hand in hand.

It is not merely His Grace who suffers from your inattentiveness. Any suitor who dares to approach is met with the same distracted gaze, your thoughts elsewhere. Whether it is the lingering remnants of that unbidden dream—one you’ve tried and failed to forget—or the fleeting moments where you think you spot Lord Gojo across the green only to realize it is a figment of your imagination, your mind is a battlefield.

A few awkward conversations—where you are not truly present—pass and go, until you sit by the lakeside of Surrey Park, deciding to take a break from the conversations that awaited you if you were to stroll towards your family’s pavilion.

But not now, for here, nature offers solace. The gentle ripple of water, the soft rustling of leaves, the occasional bird song—all soothe the cacophony in your head.

You settle onto a bench, your gown fanning around you, and allow yourself to breathe. But even as you close your eyes and tilt your head toward the sun, the peace does not come. Your thoughts betray you, circling back to him—his infuriating smirk, his piercing gaze, the way his voice seemed to linger in the air long after he was gone. The dream was completely unbidden, unexpected. You had only started to move on and start this season anew. It seemed as your consciousness was working against you in an effort to bring fictional desires to life.

You knew clearly that Gojo was infuriating, and had colored your name. So why must your mind actively go against what was clearly a certitude?

Before you could ponder on your thoughts for much longer, you heard her.

“You do seem terribly at ease for someone of your…reputation.”

The voice startles you, cutting through your reverie like a blade. Your eyes snap open, and there stands Lady Mei Mei, her expression a mask of genteel venom. You sigh inwardly, and bring on your best smile, albeit artificial. “Lady Mei Mei,” you greet, striving for composure. “To what do I owe this very unexpected…interruption?”

“Interruption?” she echoes, feigning offense. “How quaint. I merely wished to congratulate you on your newfound popularity. Though, I must say, the…boldness of your wardrobe choices does make one wonder.” Her gaze drags over your form, disdain dripping from every word. “Are you seeking a husband, my dear, or something far less respectable?”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of your skirt, but you maintain your poise. “Boldness, Lady Mei Mei, is often mistaken for confidence by those unfamiliar with either.”

Her lips twitch, but the venom remains. “Confidence, or desperation? It is difficult to tell with one so eager to flaunt herself before the ton. Tell me, do you find it tiring? Whoring yourself out for attention?”

The word lands like a slap, sharp and stinging, and you feel the surge of heat rise to your cheeks. Slowly, deliberately, you rise to your feet, smoothing the folds of your gown as you stand. Your chin tilts upward, a shield of composure against the venom Mei Mei has hurled your way. You desperately fight the urge to slap her into nonsense, but there are eyes, no matter how hidden from public view you may think yourself to be.

“I find it far less tiring than wielding envy as one’s primary weapon,” you reply, your voice cool yet cutting, every syllable sharpened to a blade. “But then, I would not expect you to understand.”

Mei Mei’s lips twist into something that might have been a smile, had it not been dripping with malice. Her eyes narrow, the sunlight catching the cold glint of her stare. She shifts closer, the deliberate grace of her steps at odds with the tension crackling in the air. For a moment, you think she might lash out—a slap, a shove, something physical to match her words.

But before the storm can break, a voice, smooth and deceptively warm, cuts through the charged silence.

“Lady Mei Mei.”

Your breath hitches, and you whip your head around to see him. Lord Gojo strides toward you both, his movements as fluid and effortless as a ripple across the lake’s surface.

For a moment, your mind stutters, unable to reconcile the sight before you. He’s here. Not lingering at the edges of the crowd, not offering a polite nod of acknowledgment before disappearing into the fringes of Surrey Park. No, he’s walking toward you with purpose, the light catching in his silver hair, his focus unerringly fixed on the scene unfolding before him.

The man who had, for days, seemed to find every excuse to avoid you (and you him), whose gaze had flicked past you as though you were nothing more than a fixture of the lawn—he was now approaching with a startling intensity, his presence impossible to ignore.

His expression is inscrutable, but the faint furrow of his brow betrays something darker beneath the veneer of his charm. The tension in his jaw, the faint set of his shoulders—it all speaks of an intent that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Lord Gojo,” you whisper under your breath, your voice barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears. What is he doing here? And why, when he looks at you, does it feel as though the air has shifted?

Lady Mei Mei recovers first, her voice cutting through your disarray like a blade. “Lord Gojo,” she purrs, her saccharine tone a stark contrast to the venom she had wielded moments earlier. “What a surprise to see you here.”

But you can’t take your eyes off him. You’re too stunned, too disoriented by his sudden appearance and the sheer force of his presence. Why must he appear now?

His gaze flicks briefly to Mei Mei, his lips curving into a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before his attention returns to you. And when it does, it’s as though the world narrows to the space between you.

“Not half as surprising as overhearing this delightful conversation,” he says, his tone light, almost lazy, but there’s an edge to it—a sharpness that wasn’t there before. His eyes meet yours again, and this time, the intensity in them is impossible to ignore. Your breath holds itself in, your confusion and shock colliding with something you can’t quite name. There’s no teasing quip, no playful smirk to soften his words. Just the weight of his gaze, pressing down on you as though he’s searching for something you don’t understand. Then, he returns it to Mei Mei. “I was unaware you had taken to dispensing moral judgments, my lady. Though I suppose one must occupy their time somehow.”

The barb lands, and Mei Mei’s smile falters. Her spine stiffens, her fingers twitching at her side, but Gojo doesn’t stop. He steps closer, his boots crunching against the gravel, and the shift in his demeanor is subtle but unmistakable.

“I would suggest, for the sake of civility,” he says, his voice softening to something far more dangerous, “that you refrain from such remarks in the future.”

The crowd, drawn by the commotion, murmurs from a distance. You feel their gazes prickle against your skin, their curiosity thickening the already-tense air. Mei Mei’s cheeks flush a pale pink, and her hands clench at her sides, the effort to maintain her composure palpable.

“You dare—” she begins, but Gojo cuts her off, his voice a degree colder now.

“I dare a great many things, my lady. Do not test the limits of my patience.”

The words hang heavy in the air, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. Mei Mei’s breath quickens, and though her lips curl into a sneer, the fire in her eyes dims. After a moment, she dips her head again, but this time it’s no longer polite. It’s forced, a concession.

“Very well, my lord,” she says, her voice tight. “I can see when my presence is no longer welcome.”

Lady Mei Mei walked past you to exit the scene, clearly disgraced after Lord Gojo had surprisingly butted in to your defense. Her turn was sharp, and her skirts flared. Then, she did something you hadn’t expected. After all, you were nonplussed from Gojo’s appearance in of itself that you did not have much awareness of your physical environment. Foremost of all, you were furious. How dare he waltz into the scene, aiming at playing hero and gentleman after all he has done to you this season? The anger consumed you, leaving you ignorant to Lady Mei Mei's schemes.

The movement came quickly—a flick of her hand, subtle yet purposeful, as though she intended to brush away an inconvenience. Only, her target was not the hem of her gown or an errant lock of hair. It was you. That is, that was the intention of the action. However, fortuitously enough for you, Lord Gojo had noticed it.

With a sharp tug, his hand closed around your wrist, pulling you aside just as Lady Mei Mei's push landed—on him.

The splash was enormous.

For a moment, the world stood still, the lake swallowing the ripples as though it too were stunned by what had just transpired. Around you, gasps echoed, punctuated by the soft clink of champagne glasses dropped in surprise. All eyes turned toward the water, toward the spot where Gojo had disappeared.

Your pulse pounded erratically, caught between the shock of it all and the mortifying realization that everyone was watching. Watching and waiting.

And then, like something out of a scandalous painting that no young lady of good breeding ought to admit having seen, Gojo emerged.

The water clung to him as though reluctant to let go, his white shirt turned sheer and pasted to his torso, revealing every lean muscle and curve beneath. Droplets trailed from the tips of his silver hair, tracing maddening paths down the sharp edges of his jaw before disappearing beneath the soaked fabric. His black necktie clung damply to his throat, accentuating the hollows there, and when his eyes met yours—gleaming with mischief and something darker—your breath hitched.

It was obscene.

The crowd seemed to agree, though their response was far less scandalized than you might have expected. The ladies weren’t laughing; no, their gazes were riveted, their fans fluttering in a feeble attempt to hide their obvious fascination. Their admiration was palpable, their whispers laden with awe.

Flustered, you took a few steps back to give him space and to not drench yourself (a/n lmaooo you’re drenched already bestie), but you mentally noted to yourself to make his pectorals bigger in your dreams (not that you would continue to have such salacious dreams, of course. It was the mind creating desires you never had, obviously.) It was apparent that you were still very distracted, for you did not notice the two pairs of footsteps rushing towards your direction, towards Gojo.

“What happened?” Duke Nanami looked at Gojo’s very…wet state, concerned and alarmed. “What did you get yourself into this time, Satoru?”

Gojo, who was still wiping water from his hair and grinning like a fool, gave him an exaggerated look of innocence. He ran a hand through his damp, platinum hair, the gesture almost too casual for someone in his drenched state. As he did so, the hem of his shirt inched upward, revealing a tantalizing sliver of bare skin, a sliver that led downward to a trail of white hair disappearing beneath his waistband—

“Kento,” Gojo laughed heartily, as if there were nothing amiss. “You worry too much! A little water never hurt anyone.”

Lord Geto, on the other hand, had been trailing behind Nanami. At the sight of Gojo, he started laughing, snickering mischievously at the sight. He had a knowing look on his face, as if he were fully aware of the scene he was witnessing—Gojo’s accidental plunge into the lake being just another moment of unintentional chaos.

“Oh, Satoru, you're impossible.” Geto stepped closer, shaking his head in mock disbelief, but his smile was far too amused to be truly accusatory or reproachful. "Did you get knocked into the lake by your own... charm?" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he glanced at the crowd of ladies now eyeing Gojo as though he were some mythical creature freshly emerged from the depths.

Nanami sighed, his brow furrowing as he crossed his arms in that ever-earnest manner that seemed to constantly play contrast to Gojo’s reckless energy. “This is exactly why you need a keeper at all times, Satoru.”

Gojo, still basking in the odd mix of amusement and the lingering attention of the nearby ladies, merely shrugged. “I’m fine, Kento. Just a little... refreshment is all.”

“By the looks of it,” Geto continued with a raised brow, “I’m more concerned about you than you are of yourself.” He gestured with a lazy wave, motioning toward the way the water had soaked through Gojo’s shirt, revealing a lot more than was likely intended. “And, I mean, look at that—those ladies aren’t gazing at you for your intellect.” (a/n LMAO ate him up)

Before Gojo could lob a retort, Nanami interjected with his trademark no-nonsense tone. “Enough of this,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re soaked to the bone. Let’s get you inside before you catch a chill—or create an even bigger scene.”

Gojo lingered for a moment, casting a leisurely glance around the gathering. The ladies, previously locked in their own conversations, now shamelessly ogled him, their fans fluttering uselessly against the rising heat in their cheeks. Their gazes trailed after him as he started to walk away, and you swore you caught more than one wistful sigh among the crowd.

And yet, even as he moved farther from the lake and closer to the house, his steps deliberate and unhurried, he suddenly stopped. Slowly, his head turned, and his piercing blue gaze found yours with unnerving accuracy, as if he’d felt your bewildered stare all along.

His smile appeared—lazy, confident, and maddeningly seductive. The corner of his mouth tilted up just enough to make your stomach flip, and his eyes... Oh, his eyes. They gleamed like a predator’s, sharp and teasing, and yet impossibly inviting.

The world seemed to tilt, the air around you thickening. Your chest tightened with the realization: that smile wasn’t for the crowd, nor for the fawning ladies he left in his wake.

It was for you.

Your cheeks burned, your thoughts a chaotic mess as he turned back and sauntered away, water still dripping from his hair and shirt. The ladies continued to gawk openly, but you remained rooted to the spot, your heart pounding erratically.

Oh, that bastard.

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a/n so....erm this was definitely a CHAPTER.....BUT AH POOKIES ITS HERE i got so excited bc i got the idea to write his lake fall so i finished this chapter. it's a bit messy, like i said, but i hope you liked it <333

I WANT TO SUCK GOJOS DICK BADLYYY i think this chapter was posted so fast after the last bc im on my period and im horny so hence the lake scene was born like i rawdogged this shit in five hours

ANYWYAS THERES PUSH AND PULL YEARNING PINING...so much contradiction hmmmmmm

miss itadori malfunctioning when gojo got out of the water (like a complete SLUT)

anyways i hope some of you WHORESS that simped for bridgerton!geto will be coming anew to simp for our main MAN. this debauchery i approve of. i fear all anons, especially zaynesbathrobe anon and anon in my walls, will be having a field day with this one

thank you for readinggg! please comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :3 (esp reblog, a lot of people have been binging bridgerton!gojo recently and spam liking. tumblr daddy might lock me up and shadowban me/mark my account, so reblogs would be appreciated <3)

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prokopetz · 11 months ago

Note

Do you happen to know the origin of the fantasy trope in which a deity's power directly corresponds to the number of their believers / the strength of their believers' faith?

I only know it from places like Discworld and DnD that I'm fairly confident are referencing some earlier source, but outside of Tinkerbell in Peter Pan, I can't think of of any specific work it might've come from, 20th-c fantasy really not being my wheelhouse.

Thank you!

That's an interesting question. In terms of immediate sources, I suspect, but cannot prove, that the trope's early appearances in both Dungeons & Dragons and Discworld are most immediately influenced by the oeuvre of Harlan Ellison – his best-known work on the topic, the short story collection Deathbird Stories, was published in 1975, which places it very slightly into the post-D&D era, though most of the stories it contains were published individually earlier – but Ellison certainly isn't the trope's originator. L Sprague de Camp and Fritz Leiber also play with the idea in various forms, as does Roger Zelazny, though only Zelazny's earliest work is properly pre-D&D.

Hm. Off the top of my head, the earliest piece of fantasy fiction I can think of that makes substantial use of the trope in its recognisably modern form is A E van Vogt's The Book of Ptath; it was first serialised in 1943, though no collected edition was published until 1947. I'm confident that someone who's more versed in early 20th Century speculative fiction than I am could push it back even earlier, though. Maybe one of this blog's better-read followers will chime in!

(Non-experts are welcome to offer examples as well, of course, but please double-check the publication date and make sure the work you have in mind was actually published prior to 1974.)

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #dungeons & dragons #d&d #tropes #media #literature #religion #death mention

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charmedimsure · 2 months ago

Note

could you do a jun ho fic where the f!reader is a new officer and he's training her. she is fully convinced that he hates her (maybe she isn't the best at her job) but at the end of the week he asks her out and she's so shocked. turns out he was dropping hints the whole time and she's an idiot

A TOUGH CASE TO CRACK || hwang jun-ho

pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x f!reader

summary: No matter what you do, you just cannot get on Jun-ho's good side. Normally you'd brush it off, if he wasn't the man who decides whether you get promoted to detective or not.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: police work, murder case, guns

A/N: i love this request sm omg. everything i know about detective work is from brooklyn 99 so i doubt it's very accurate. if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

When you found out that the detective training you was none other than Hwang Jun-ho, you were ecstatic. You've worked with him a few times before, doing general beat cop tasks for his cases and seeing him around the precinct.

Not only is he an extremely respected detective, he's also really cute. You hate to be the girl at work who's fawning over one of the boys, but come on. You have eyes.

Now though, as you're sitting in the squad car together staking out a suspect for one of his cases, you're starting to wish you had gotten assigned to anyone else.

You've spent nearly two hours together and you can count the number of words he's said to you on one hand. He's barely even looked at you. It's not like you were friends before, but you've worked together since you got transferred to the precinct a few months ago. And now this man will be the deciding factor in whether you get the detective promotion or go back to being a beat cop.

About a week later, Jun-ho approaches you. "We've been assigned a case. Small, straightforward, perfect for training. Get ready, we're gonna head over to the scene. I'll give you a run down on the way over."

You nod, a smile on your face. It may be small, but it's your first case as a detective and you're excited to prove yourself. This may be your first case, but it will not be your last.

"Cool. Let me grab my stuff, I'll meet you at the car in a few minutes."

Jun-ho gives you a curt nod and turns, walking back to his desk to get his things.

You let out a sigh. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to describe a case as 'cool'.

You grimace at the gruesome sight in front of you. A man's body lays on the ground, blood splattered all around the room. A gun lies in his hand.

"First impression," Jun-ho says, taking out his notepad, "suicide."

You take a step closer, wanting to get a better look at the scene. As you try to take another step, a hand grabs your arm, yanking you back.

"Watch where you're stepping!" Jun-ho's voice booms at you. You look down to notice that you had, in fact, been very close to stepping directly in the victim's blood, which would have messed up the evidence badly.

You look down at your boots, embarrassed that you almost made such a rookie mistake. "Sorry, I'll be more careful." You step closer to the body, but his hand is still keeping you in your place. You huff. "I'm not going to step in the blood, you can let go."

He looks down at his hand and quickly releases your arm, allowing you to approach the scene, this time being extra cautious to make sure you don't disturb anything. You crouch down by the man's head, examining the wound.

Jun-ho gives you a questioning look. "What's wrong?"

You shake your head. "Something just feels off to me."

He continues jotting down notes. "Take a look around the place. I'm gonna talk to the wife. Please be careful not to touch anything. Wear gloves if you have to."

You sigh as he walks away. You had wanted to do this together, to learn how an investigation is done as a detective. He probably thinks you're incompetent now. Looks like you're gonna be working separately.

You take a quick scan over the interior of the room, trying to find little clues that may give you a hint as to what happened here. The house looks normal enough (save for the dead man on the floor, of course). Looking towards the windows, you notice that they are all locked, except for one. It could be nothing, but you write it down in your own notebook anyway, not wanting to overlook anything. You'll be damned if you make another mistake.

Jun-ho walks away from the victim's wife, who is crying outside the home.

"Hey, I might have found something," you jog up to him. "All of the windows are locked except one. Seems a little off to me."

Jun-ho sighs. "I don't think that's something to focus on until we get more evidence." He puts his notepad back in his pocket. "Come on, we gotta go back to the precinct."

You feel yourself deflate at his comment, slowly following him to the car.

You march into your chief's office, hands on your hips. "Chief, I'd like to put in a request for a different trainer."

The man looks up at you from the plate of food on his desk. "Why?"

"Because I know that Detective Hwang is going to give me a bad review," you huff. "If I had done badly, I'd accept it, but I can't help it that he doesn't like me."

He gives you a questioning look. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't think he's said one nice thing to me," you rant. "He doesn't talk to me unless he absolutely has to, he barely even acknowledges that I'm there! The only time he talks to me is to criticize me. He doesn't even work with me on our case!" You stop, catching your breath from you long tirade. "You could have assigned anyone to train me, why did you have to choose him?"

The chief cocks an eyebrow at you. "When he found out you were applying to become a detective, Detective Hwang personally requested to train you."

You look at your chief as if he has three heads. "What?"

He picks up a piece of chicken from his plate, bringing it to his mouth. "He said he saw potential in you, wanted to work with you." He looks up at you again. "He hasn't said anything bad about you or your performance. He's actually said you're doing very well."

Your head feels crazy as you try to process this information. The detective training you, the one that hates you, doesn't actually hate you. He asked to train you and praises you to the chief.

"But why would he do that? He acts like he can't stand me."

The chief shrugs. "You're training to be a detective. Solve the case."

You deadpan at him as a smirk grows on his face. "You're so proud of yourself for that one, aren't you?"

"Absolutely I am. Now, get back to your case." He points at the door with his chopsticks. You can't help but let out a small laugh as you walk back to the bullpen.

The next day, you're sitting at Jun-ho's desk, looking through the files on your victim. A crumb from the sandwich you're eating falls onto one of the photos of the crime scene and you quickly flick it away.

"What are you looking at?"

You jump a bit in your seat. Jun-ho is standing over you, looking at the files in your hands. You put your hand on your chest, steadying your breath.

"Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me."

He gives you a barely there smile. "Sorry." You watch his eyes move to the sandwich in your hand and any trace of the smile he once worse disappears.

You sigh. "I know I'm not supposed to be eating on the job, but I was so hungry that I couldn't focus." You put the remainder of the sandwich on the napkin. "And in my defense, it worked. I think I found something," you say, moving over so he can get a better look. You look up at him. "Do you want your chair?"

"No, it's fine," he says, leaning over you to inspect the files. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, making you stiffen.

"Take a look at this," you point to a description of the victim to Jun-ho. "He was left-handed." You then pick up a picture of the body, handing it to him. "Look where the gun is."

He takes the picture, his eyes widening when he realizes it. "It's in his right hand." He puts the photo down, looking down at you. "You said one of the windows was unlocked, right?"

You nod.

Jun-ho grabs his jacket off the back of the chair you're sitting in. "Go get your jacket. We gotta go back to the house."

You slam the door to the squad car, rushing behind Jun-ho as he moves toward the house. "Which window was unlocked?"

"The middle one on the side."

You run to the side of the house, stopping a few feet away from the window. "This one here."

Jun-ho crouches down. The window is over a small flowerbed, the area covered in mulch that couldn't have been laid down more than a week ago.

You hear Jun-ho gasp. "Here! A footprint!"

You come closer, crouching near him. Sure enough, the print of a large shoe is visible in the mulch, leading away from the window.

"You were right," the man next to you says. "This is a murder."

You stand by the coffee machine, brewing a cup for the woman waiting by Jun-ho's desk. He had reached out to the victim's widow, hoping to get some information that could lead to her husband's killer.

You see Jun-ho leaving the Chief's office and call him over. "Do you want to handle the questions?"

"No, I think we should do it together," he says. "I want your opinion, too."

You try to fight the smile growing on your face, nodding. Jun-ho leads you to his desk, pulling up a chair for you to sit in. You place the cup in front of the woman, as well as a tiny bowl with creamers and sugar.

"Thank you for coming in, ma'am," Jun-ho says.

"Is everything alright?" she asks.

"We just want to ask you a few questions," he says. "We've been going over your husband's case and we have reason to believe that this was a murder staged to look like a suicide."

The woman gasps, bringing a hand up to her mouth as her eyes water. "I knew it," he softly cries, "I knew my Jin-young wouldn't have killed himself. We don't even own a gun, and he was such a happy man."

You shift forward in your seat, grabbing the box of tissues from beside Jun-ho's computer and placing them in front of her. She nods a thank you as she takes one. "Ma'am, is there anyone who you think could have done this? Had anything happened recently?"

She takes a moment to think. "I know he was having arguments with a man he worked with, I don't know his name though."

"Do you know what they argued about?"

"One of them was going to be promoted," she explains. "The promotion would give a significant pay raise. The other man had been there for longer, but Jin-young was likely to get it. He was a very likable man, a very good worker, so nice to everyone. The other man though that he deserved it more."

You write down the details in your notebook. Jun-ho leans forward. "Thank you, ma'am. We'll be in contact."

You walk into the building, looking for the suspect. You had done some research and found that the man you're looking for is Kun Yong-ja, a man with a history of assault.

"Ready?" Jun-ho asks you. You nod, and he knocks on the door of the apartment.

The door opens, revealing your suspect. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, sir. We're with the police. We were hoping we could ask you a few questions," Jun-ho says.

The man's face falters for a moment. "About what?"

You pick up a photo of the victim, turning it to show him. "We're aware that you worked with Mun Jin-young. He was found dead in his home a few days ago."

Yong-ja looks between the two of you before slamming the door shut.

"Shit," you say, taking your gun out of its holster.

Jun-ho kicks in the door, taking his gun out as well. You follow him into the apartment. You run to the back, finding a window open by the fire escape.

"I'll follow him down this way, you go around, try to cut him off," Jun-ho tells you.

You nod, rushing out the door and down the stairs. Leaving the building and turning into the alley beside it, you see the back of Yong-ja, who is currently pointing a gun at your partner. As Jun-ho tries to talk him down, you sneak up behind him. With all your strength, you hit his head with the butt of your gun, knocking him unconscious.

"Thank you," Jun-ho says. He takes the handcuffs off his belt, securing them around Yong-ja's wrists.

As the beat cops bring him to the station, you and Jun-ho check his apartment. Sure enough, you find mulch-covered boots that perfectly fit the prints left in the victim's yard, as well as a small book with information on the victim, including his home address.

"Hey."

You turn, seeing Jun-ho walking up to you. You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Hi."

"The chief asked me to give this to you," he smiles as he hands you a small leather booklet.

You take it and open it, gasping when you see what's inside. The right side is blank, but the left holds a badge, the words "National Police Agency" engraved on it.

"Holy shit," you say, a big smile on your face. "I got it! I'm a detective!" You're so happy that you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him in an unexpected hug. You feel him tense and pull back. "Sorry, I'm just really happy."

"It's fine," he chuckles. "Actually, this is something that I wanted to talk to you about."

Great, here we go. He's going to tell you how you need to be more professional, that you can't make mistakes while in the field.

"Now that I'm not your superior anymore," he smiles, leaning closer to you, "I was wondering if you want to get dinner with me this weekend?"

Wait, what?

You stare at him for a good ten seconds, mind processing the words that just came out of his mouth. You open your mouth and close it a few times before you're finally able to come up with some words. "Like, as in a date?"

"Yeah, a date. If that's alright."

You continue to stare at him, absolutely baffled.

He starts to shrink, his face dropping. "Please don't feel like you have to. It's okay if you don't want to, I won't hold it against you."

"No!" you blurt out. "I mean, yes, I would love to get dinner with you." You smile at him. "Sorry, I just honestly was not expecting that at all."

"Really?" he asks, brows furrowed. "I feel like I've been kind of obvious about it. I mean, I could barely look at you at first because you made me so nervous. One day I finally got the courage to ask you to lunch, but you were already eating and that plan went out the window."

It finally clicks in your brain. Everything you had assumed he'd done because he hated you, not talking to you and giving you looks when you ate at his desk, it was because he liked you.

"But I made mistakes," you say. "I almost stepped in the victim's blood."

Jun-ho chuckles. "My first case, I put filed a knife under the wrong case, would've blown the entire thing if someone hadn't noticed. I got a good yelling at, and now I always make sure I file evidence correctly. I can guarantee you will always be careful around crime scenes, now."

He's right. After that, you had been much more careful. "Damn," you say, "I really got this wrong."

"Yeah, maybe I shouldn't have recommended you for detective," he teases.

You lightly slap his arm. "No take backs!" You gasp. "Wait, is that why you requested to train me?"

Jun-ho blushes, looking to the floor and kicking his shoes. "The Chief told you about that, did he?" He looks up. "And I'm guessing that you asked for a different trainer because you thought I didn't like you?"

"Man, the Chief really can't keep his mouth shut, huh?" you chuckle.

"Not at all," Jun-ho says. "So, I'll pick you up Saturday night?"

You nod, smiling. "It's a date."

Squid Game Tags: @thebiggestigurosimp @vvnbxz @lov3yy @miltzzy @l5byrinth @come-as-you-are-111 @starkeyszn @learninglinesintherainn @galactict3a

Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game season 2 #squid game fanfic #squid game x reader #x reader #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho #jun ho x reader #wi ha jun #jun ho #jun ho squid game

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shizunitis · 9 months ago

Text

no cause it’s better that it was shen yuan who was born in the modern world instead of binghe. imagine his unhinged ass in the forums. his fandom legacy.

the “What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals” type copypasta he’d bestow upon the most innocent of mischaracterisations (of shen qingqiu, of course) in the comments.

there would be t-shirts sold of his handle. how he secured ‘heavenly pillar’ we cannot prove but highly suspect wasn’t without bloodshed.

he would not think himself above dabbling in fanfiction, both enjoying it and writing it. he would absolutely re-write the entire novel if airplane dared do what he did to pidw to shen yuan’s story, and he’d win. he would overtake airplane in the rankings, and his stories aren’t even monetised.

he doesn’t need the money. hell, he’s probably offered to pay airplane to just fix the story but was dismissed as a troll!

he’s doing this for shizun, his own entertainment and to punish the gaggle of idiots that try to ragebait him.

oh, you said shizun is one-dimensional and stupid just for the fuck of it? very funny! here’s your 24-hour live location and the last transactions registered on your bank account. godspeed🙏🏻

he keeps getting banned and yet his handle remains the same whenever he pops back up.

airplane is too afraid to drop the story and wash his hands of the whole thing. last night he got an email from an unknown address and he needs to work up to opening it

#svsss #svsss au #luo binghe #bingqiu #airplane shooting towards the sky #god binghe please. please transmigrate already and spare us #villains love him systems fear him

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margotw10bis · 9 months ago

Text

Daydream.KTH [m] "Baby" 01

boyfriend!taehyung x female reader

Genre: drabble series; smut; fluff

Words: 2.8k

Synopsis: Your boyfriend is daydreaming about how he fucked you last night.

Warnings: talk about babies; protected sex; spanking; oral sex (f. & m. receiving)

"Hey, Kim, focus please!"

The voice of the superintendent makes Taehyung jolt. Even if he is quite bruised in his ego to have been called out in from of the whole team, he cannot deny that he wasn't daydreaming while he should listen to the meeting. It's not even that he finds is job boring — he actually enjoys being a police officer — but something is stuck in his mind.

Something as you.

Taehyung knows he has to get his head in the game otherwise his colleagues, especially the older ones, won't stop teasing him and he is not fond of sharing that the reason why he is so deep in thoughts today is because he fucked you good the night before.

₊˚⊹♡ YESTERDAY

You roll your eyes for the millionth times. Your boyfriend and you know that it's a never ending debate — well, perhaps Taehyung doesn't really acknowledge that.

"Why are you so insisting anyway?" You ask with despair

"And why are you so against it?" He replies, trying his best to make his puppy eyes but it's not working — not with this subject

You do your best to escape the conversation by heading to the kitchen and attempt to make food but, obviously, Taehyung won't let it go that easily. You know the man, he is stubborn on certain topics and this one is definitely one of them.

"Y/N, answer me" He says, more softly, sounding almost hurt "Why don't you want to have kids with me?"

You sigh, your heart squeezing in your chest.

"It's not that I don't want kids but I don't want kids now" You try to explain

"Why not?"

"Because it's too soon" You reply firmly

"We've been dating for two years!" Taehyung exclaims, scandalized

"We have time" You de-dramatize, patting his cheek

"Please" He whines

And here you go again.

Your boyfriend has been begging for kids for months now. You don't know why this sudden urge appears but you suspect the birth of one of his colleague's baby. You know that Taehyung wants children, the talk arrived early in your relationship, but you don't want children right now. For you, 26 is still young.

"Tae..." You sigh

"I just want a mini you walking around" He pouts and brings you closer by grabbing your hips

He even draws light circles with his thumbs like he knows you like. That man is definitely a menace for your sanity.

You know damn well that he is trying to seduce you and you hate to admit that it's working. To be honest, Taehyung is really, really handsome. A lot of your friends are burning in jealousy that you got to get the hot police officer with the whole honey-tanned skin and muscles set.

"Don't you think it'd be adorable?"

Oh, you forgot to mention the harmonious deep and sexy voice in the set.

"Baby, you don't want one child, you want five!" You point out

"Five mini yous walking around is cuter!" He states

"Do you know how hard is it for a woman's body to have a child? Then, think about five!"

"Please, baby" Taehyung pouts again "I'll do anything"

You think for a minute, trying to prove that he is actually not ready to 'do anything'.

"You'll massage my feet after I come back from the gym?" You tease

"Before and after your shower" He answers without hesitation

"You'll let me win every argument?" You raise your brow

"Isn't it already the case?" Taehyung jokes, slyly kissing your neck

Instinctively, you wraps your hands around his neck to appreciate more his lips on your skin.

"You'll really do anything?" You whisper because you know that if you talk too loud, you'll moan

"Anything. I'll eat you out everyday"

Tempting.

"Even when I'm on my period?" You cock a brow

Taehyung pulls back his head from the crook of your neck and looks at you with big black eyes. He doesn't say it but his face spots a light disgust and you're having a hard time concealing your laugh.

"Even when you're on your period" He finally concedes

"Wow, you really want kids, do you?" You say, genuinely surprised that he is ready to go this far

"Yes" You can see on his handsome face that he is dead serious "With you" He adds and gosh, you can't help but blush

Taehyung is not only the most good-looking guy on Earth, he is also the sweetest one. When you first met him, you were attracted by his physical appearance of course, but you fell in love with him because of his personality.

"I'll think about it"

"You promise?" You spot the excitement in your boyfriend's voice

"Yeah" You smile widely at him

Taehyung secures his arms around you and lifts you up to head to the bedroom. His happiness that you are simply thinking about having his baby drives him beyond clouds. He loves you, so much. Yeah, he has been wanting to have (a lot of) kids since he was young but when he met you, he knew that you were the one. He is just tired that his fantasizes of you as the mother of his babies are, well, fantasizes.

He makes sure to land you safely on the bed and wastes no time in getting rid of his t-shirt, blessing you with his strong upper body, while you keep giggling. Seeing you smile makes him happy and he can't help but send you the most charming smile ever.

"Why are you laughing?" He questions, raising a brow in a comic way

"Because I was wondering if your colleagues knew that the intimating and buff Kim Taehyung was actually crazy for cute babies" You joke but your smile doesn't last as your boyfriend lays on you to capture your mouth

"Not any cute babies" He states "Ours"

Gosh, he makes it very difficult to say no.

He doesn't really give you time to think about that because he starts pulling up the hem of your t-shirt that you might have actually borrowed — stolen — from your boyfriend. Taehyung grunts against your lips as he squeezes your bare breasts, not believing that you hid the fact that you didn't have a bra underneath his large t-shirt.

Actually, he is not complaining: he loves your tits. But well, he loves everything in you.

He starts going south to reach your boobs and kiss them. He even licks and sucks your nipples until they are hard and you start whining with impatience. Taehyung knows you so well and he knows that his ministrations on your breasts bring wetness to your core. And even if he didn't know yet, the way you are starting to buckle up your hips so you can gain some friction is a clear sign of it.

Sometimes you miss his longer hair because you can't really tug on it anymore. But it's okay because you have to admit that Taehyung is really hot with this hair-cut.

"Baby..." You moan when his teeth tease your right nipple, threatening to bite

You gasp when a vicious and quick lick replaces his teeth.

"Can I fuck you?" He asks and smirks when you nod frenetically because gosh, you really want it

His experts fingers hook the hem of both your sweatpants and soaked panties and pull them down your legs so Taehyung can fully appreciate your wet cunt. And let's say that he is not disappointed at all: your arousal is clearly noticeable and he can't resist.

He makes himself comfortable between your open legs, squishing the flesh of your thighs as he dives into your pussy. His mouth is nothing shy, settling messy kisses and licking your juices from your entrance. The way he is eating you out like a starved man makes you shake with pleasure, especially when he sucks on your clit. If your boyfriend wasn't holding your thighs this tight, you would already close your legs or kick him with the spams that control your body.

The sounds coming from your mouth are a mix of moans and gasps but you don't even acknowledge it as you are resting on your elbows to watch your devilishly handsome boyfriend's face between your legs.

"It feels so fucking good" You praise him as he enters you with his tongue and your head roll back

"This little pussy is the sweetest one, I swear" He mumbles to himself, giving one heated kiss to your cunt

When he stands up you first notice the way his face is glistening with your arousal and then how tight his pants look at this crotch area. With a little smirk, you reach out your hands so you can open his pants and caress his hard cock through his briefs.

"Eating my pussy got you hard?" You tease, faking an innocent voice

Taehyung grunts when you squeeze his tip but doesn't stop you — and you know that he secretly likes it.

"Loving you makes me hard, baby" He replies and you feel butterflies in your stomach

You are always amazed by how easily he can switch between pure hotness that burns your skin and the softest and loving words that make you sure that you're living on a cloud.

Your eyes leave his covered dick to his warm dark eyes. This man is the love of your life, there is no doubt about it. And if you don't say it to him, you make sure that he knows it as you are kissing him in the most passionate way.

Taehyung's hands slide to your ass, hugging you tight.

"I love you" You whisper against his swollen lips

"Then get on all fours for me" He commands with a light spank on your asscheek and you oblige

You arch your back and rest your head on the mattress to make sure that Taehyung can see how you clench around nothing while waiting for him. Before him, you thought that you knew what good sex was but god you were wrong. No one fucked you the way Taehyung does and there is only one word to describe it: addictive. After your first time with him, you begged him to fuck you every single day for two weeks, afraid that you won't feel the same way as the first time. However, now that you cannot count how many times you had sex with him, you can confirm that he never disappoints.

Your boyfriend looks away from your appealing pussy to grab a condom in the nightstand — secretly hoping that he won't need one soon — and wraps his long dick after taking off the rest of his clothes.

You feel the mattress sinks as Taehyung takes place behind you. He makes sure that you feel him, sliding his hard dick between your asscheeks and you can't conceal your surprised moan nor control the way your hips push back against him.

"You want it, don't you?" His deep voice is full of cockiness but how can you be mad when he is speaking the truth?

"Yeah" You try to make him quit the teasing with a honey tone but you only earn a good spank on your ass

"Are you sure you deserve it though?"

Your head turns abruptly because you don't understand how Taehyung can resist when his dick is this hard — and you cannot resist anymore yourself either. Does he want to punish you because you refuse his demand of having a baby? You know that he is not cruel and that he won't force you to do anything, especially something as serious as that but you can't deny that the thought is crossing your mind.

However, you sigh with relief when you spot on his face his playfulness and you know that he is just playing his 'male alpha' fantasy or whatsoever. You roll your eyes and bite back:

"If you don't want to fuck, I can take care of myself in the shower"

To support your claim, you feign to move away and a wave of panic raises in your boyfriend's chest. He quickly grabs your hip and says:

"No, no, no, no! Please stay, I was just teasing you"

You hide your smirk and let Taehyung lands a sweet kiss on your ass as an apology.

You return to your comfortable position with your head down as Taehyung slowly enters you. You love how careful he is with you — only the first minute because after that he turns into a sex machine that only stops after making you cum.

Once settled inside you, he grunts of out deep he is inside you and how tightly your walls squeeze around the intruder. You love having his cock in your cunt, really really much and the impatient whine that escapes your mouth is a sign.

Taehyung gets the message and starts moving, slow at first but it doesn’t last. You beg him for more and it’s like a switch in his handsome head: he harshly grabs the flesh of your ass to keep you in place and pounds into you. The bed shakes the same way your moans are shaky.

Pleasure. That’s all that feels your mind right now. Your boyfriend’s dick is stretching you so good that you can’t think straight. Your fists grab the sheets in a desperate attempt not to sink too much into horniness.

“Oh my god, Tae!” You exclaim when he spanks your beautiful ass

“How does it feel when I fuck you like that?” He cockily asks

“So fucking good” You reply nonetheless because you feel no shame in confessing that he is good at sex — and he knows it

Actually, it’s so good that you could cry. Your eyes are watery and you close them to focus on the sensation in your pussy.

Taehyung slightly changes the angle when he shifts to rest on his right foot rather than his knee, allowing him to go even deeper. Extra pleasure is added when his balls slap your sensitive clit at every pound.

If you could care, you’d hope that your neighbors don’t hear the bad smashing into the wall or your loud moans or your skins clapping. But you don’t care because you are close to a great orgasm.

Your walls throbs and your hand tightly grabs your boyfriend’s forearm, provoking a smirk on his face. He doesn’t mind that your nails bruise his skin or make him bleed. He has a hot girlfriend and he doesn’t mind showing that he is fucking her the way she deserves.

He lightly and lovingly caress your ass with his thumb, soothing you before you reach your orgasm but it does little against the huge wave of pleasure that washes over you.

You cum so hard that you have no strength left and that your knees doesn’t support you anymore, especially with how you're shaking with endorphin. Taehyung gets it and makes you rest on your back, facing your exhausted yet blissed face.

“You think you can it five more minutes?” He asks

You consider it but when your eyes land on his messy dick, you have another idea.

“How about I suck you off?”

“I love you so much” He replies at that, making you laugh

You let your boyfriend resting comfortably against the headboard and you massage his dick after taking off the condom. Light grunts escape Taehyung's mouth and it spurs you to take him in your mouth.

You love how heavy he feels. With his thickness, you have no choice but to open your mouth wide and someway, it makes you horny. Your tongue swirls around his tips to conceal your moans and it doesn't take long for you to bob your head.

Taehyung helps you by putting your hair in a ponytail and pushing your head at a pleasant pace for you both.

"Fuck, baby, you're so good at that" He whispers almost to himself "You suck my cock so well"

To thank him, you go even deeper until you gag. You know damn well how much your boyfriend loves it and you can't conceal a smirk when his breathe hitch out of pleasure.

You decide to push him a little further and caress his balls.

"You naughty" He says but you know he loves it "Keep going I'm gonna cum"

You nod lightly and enhance your pace. You bob your head, let sloppy sounds fill the air and tighten your throat around his tip when you choke on it. It's a mess, full of saliva and pre cum but you both love it.

You feel your boyfriend's body tense right before he cums down your throat.

You, just like Taehyung, are panting but your heart squeezes when he delicately wipes your swollen lips with his thumb.

"You were perfect, baby" He says and you smile at him "I love you very much" He adds as he kisses your nose, making you giggle

You should really consider having his babies...

#bts fanfic #bts #bts smut #fanfic #kim taehyung #kth #kth x reader #bts taehyung #taehyung #taehyung smut #v #bts v

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laughhardrunfastbekindsblog · 11 months ago

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I cannot get over how much this one scene informs us of Tech's priorities, personality, and how much he cares about his squad.

THE SCENE: "Replacements," season 1 episode 3; the Marauder is in dire need of repairs

This scene is often played for laughs (and let's be real, it IS hilarious). There's Tech, completely ignoring Echo's not-so-subtle hints to help fix the ship, instead prioritizing tinkering with his gadgets because his definition of "critical systems" is apparently vastly different than others'. Result? The ship crashes.

But... Tech is RIGHT to be concerned about the chips.

He has been warning his brothers about the chips since Order 66, multiple times throughout "Aftermath" and "Cut and Run."

2. He suspected Crosshair was susceptible to the effects of the chip early on.

3. He saw firsthand the friction caused between Crosshair and the rest of the squad due to the chip, with the ultimate result that Crosshair attacked the squad and shot Wrecker.

OF COURSE he is going to prioritize creating a device that will test the functionality of their own chips - and I think he has two reasons for this.

First: Prevent further catastrophe by making sure no one else on the squad is at imminent risk of acting out like Crosshair did.

Can you imagine what could happen if anyone else became susceptible to the chip's effects? (Oh yeah, we can: we see exactly what happens with Wrecker on Bracca.) Tech's not losing another family member the way he just lost Crosshair.

Second: Support his theory that Crosshair's actions ARE a result of the chip. (Omega talked to Crosshair about this (in a roundabout way) in the brig, but it's Tech who mentions this possibility to the squad.)

And if they can find a reason, a solid explanation, for why Crosshair has turned on them, maybe they can find a way to help him.

Tech is logical and rational. He understands people by analyzing them, finding reasons to explain their motives and actions; and by understanding them, he can come up with a plan to fix the situation. And that's exactly what he's doing here: by proving his theories about the inhibitor chips, he can better help his family.

So, as much as I still laugh over Tech's nonchalant "We're fine" as they're LITERALLY CRASHING, I also find it so dang heartwarming and sweet that Tech was SO focused on saving his team in other, equally crucial ways ❤️

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #clone force 99 #star wars #star wars the bad batch #headcanon #yep tech is my fave #save crosshair #just some random thoughts that turned into an essay #nope i'm not crying

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misswynters · 8 months ago

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Tempestuous Alliance

Gwayne Hightower x Baratheon! fem!reader

[a/n: i had to make a short drabble and cheesy for gwayne cuz there is a lack of. enjoy!

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

The storm raged outside Storm’s End, but within the castle walls, warmth and laughter echoed. You stood by the window, watching the waves crash against the cliffs. You had always loved the ferocity of the sea, finding it a kindred spirit to your own tempestuous nature. Yet tonight, your thoughts were not on the storm, but on the man who had arrived unexpectedly at your family’s stronghold.

Ser Gwayne Hightower, heir to the Reach, had come to Storm’s End on a diplomatic mission, or so he claimed. You suspected there was more to his visit than the pretense of strengthening alliances. The Hightowers were known for their strategic minds, and you wondered what plans were brewing behind Gwayne’s courteous facade.

You turned away from the window as the door to your chambers creaked open. Gwayne stood in the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow across the room. His silver hair, a mark of his noble lineage, caught the firelight, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

“Lady ___,” he greeted, his voice smooth and calm, a stark contrast to the storm outside.

“Ser Gwayne,” you replied, inclining your head. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “I wished to speak with you privately. There are matters of importance we must discuss.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Important matters? In the middle of the night?”

Gwayne smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Sometimes, the most pressing issues cannot wait for the light of day.”

You motioned for him to sit by the fire, taking a seat yourself opposite him. “Very well, Ser Gwayne. Speak your mind.”

He settled into the chair, his expression growing serious. “House Hightower and House Baratheon have long been allies, but we live in uncertain times. The realm is fractured, and we must secure our positions. I believe a stronger bond between our houses would benefit us both.”

You studied him, your keen mind considering his words. “And how do you propose we strengthen this bond?”

Gwayne leaned forward, his gaze intense. “A marriage, my lady. Between you and me.”

You were taken aback by his directness. “You propose an alliance through marriage?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “You are known for your strength and wisdom, qualities I greatly admire. Together, we could unite our houses and ensure our families’ futures.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of deceit, but found none. Gwayne Hightower was a man of honor, and his offer was genuine. Yet, the thought of marrying for political gain rather than love troubled you.

“You speak of duty and alliance,” you said slowly. “But what of love, Ser Gwayne? Can a marriage founded on strategy truly thrive?”

He reached out, taking your hand in his. “I do not offer you a loveless union, my lady. I believe that in time, we could come to care deeply for one another. Respect and admiration are strong foundations upon which love can grow.”

His touch was warm, and you found yourself drawn to his sincerity. “You have given this much thought,” you remarked.

“I have,” he admitted. “For I see in you a partner worthy of standing by my side, not just in name, but in spirit.”

Your heart softened at his words. You had always been wary of suitors seeking your hand for your family’s power and influence, but Gwayne was different. He sought a true partnership, one built on mutual respect and shared goals.

“Very well,” you said at last. “I will consider your proposal, Ser Gwayne. But know this: I will not be swayed by mere words. You must prove your intentions through your actions.”

Gwayne smiled, a look of relief washing over his face. “I would expect nothing less from you, my lady.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the crackling fire providing a comforting backdrop. Despite the storm outside, a sense of calm settled between you.

“I will prove myself to you,” Gwayne vowed. “And together, we will weather any storm that comes our way.”

You felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this alliance could be more than just a strategic move. Perhaps, in Gwayne Hightower, you had found a partner who could match your strength and spirit.

As the night wore on, you spoke of your dreams and ambitions, discovering a shared vision for the future. By the time the storm subsided, a new bond had begun to form, one that would shape the fate of your houses for years to come.

And so, amidst the lingering echoes of the storm, a promise was made. Not just a promise of alliance, but of a partnership forged in the fires of mutual respect and growing affection.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood

#house of the dragon #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd season 2 #hotd x reader #house baratheon #house targaryen #hotd smut #hotd greens #gwayne x you #ser gwayne

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onskepa · 1 year ago

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Yay requests are open!

What about a platonic Ronal x scientist? Yes they study the planet but ronal cannot help but like them because they respect the culture, her medical skills and only seems to find the silver lining in her stiff comments. Like come on human I am trying to make you leave through the power of rude and you just gave me a freidnship bracelet? Wtf I imagine tonowari just snickering every night as she complains about her new best friend

Hellooooooooo darling~!!

Yes! Another ronal fic! Thank you for requesting and I hope this cute fic will satisfy you and everyone else! Enjoy~!

Irayo pt2

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

Irayo

“You are good to go, if anything goes wrong or if they are not very welcoming, just say the word and we will get you” the head director of the ocean na’vi program says. In front of him was the new girl. Determined and open minded to learn new things, and was given the ultimate task.

Make the first human contact with the reef na’vi.

Nodding in excitement, the new recruit gets into a canoe with her prepared items. Making sure she is set for sail, she looks at her comrades. “I will let you know everything. Hopefully, this can go well. If doctor Agustine has faith in us, we can't lose” she says with optimus in her voice.

Saying her last farewell, she sets off to the Metkayina island.

“This will be good, I can feel it!”

She arrives at the island, her eyes in awe as she gets closer to the shore. So many na’vi! They all stare at her, many in fear, others in curiosity, and many ready to fight her. Raising her hands, she gets out from her canoe and displays she is of no harm.

“I come in peace, I bring no harm” the human girl announces in perfect, fluent na’vi.

Many, from what she suspects are warriors, stare at her in surprise.

“You are a sky demon! Leave or we will not be easy on you!” one of the warriors warned her. Another warrior follows after.

“We heard what you did with the forest na’vi, leave! You only bring death and sorrow wherever you go”.

The tension was building fast among the other people. Mothers protecting their children, might warriors standing in front of the weak. Any wrong move and she might end up dead. Which is a high factor.

The crowd breaks as two significant looking na’vi walks through, from how they are dressed and the others willing to step aside, the human knew exactly who they were.

And it gave her excitement. Already the first and she is seeing so much!

The human was quick with the traditional na’vi greeting of “I see you”. In hopes that the tension can lessen if she displays their ways.

The Tsahik and Olo’eyktan looked at her carefully. Observing her every move and detail. Small hint of disgust but also confusion as to why a human is here.

“Hello, I bring no harm. I am here to learn your ways. Allow me to prove myself to you, perhaps you have heard of the dark stories of what the humans did to other na’vi, but I promise you that I only bring peace. Please, teach me your ways”.

Ronal doesn't know what or how or even why. But after a lengthy discussion with Tonowari, they granted the human permission to enter their home. And learn their ways. As best a human can learn. While Tonowari was more loose on letting the human in, Ronal felt different, at first she came defensive and was always on alert should the human do something that seems bad under her eyes.

But the human was aware where the line drew, only did what she was allowed to and dared not to push boundaries. Ronal wasn't making it any easier for the human. None whatsoever. In fact, Ronal planned to make things so difficult for the human that she would have no other choice but to leave.

Now if only it worked that, and not Ronal making it harder for herself.

“Put more strength in your arms. It must be thinned out and easy to separate. Any thicker and it will be difficult to mix” Ronal instructed the human with a harsh tone. She was teaching the human how to make crushed, thin, dust-like green material. Very dry leaves that were thoroughly picked from their small forest.

The human woman smiled and obeyed, “alright tsahik”. Doing exactly what she is being told. That is the thing that irks ronal. The human doesn't fight back. She doesn't do anything!

“A child can do a better job than you,” Ronal says with a snarky tone. The human just takes it, “I don't doubt it. This is more of their ways” the human replies with such calmness in her voice. Not a hint of anger, impatience, nothing.

“Dont think this will be enough, there is still much more to grind down” Ronal says, as she places a lot more dried grass in the already big pile. The human stops for a few seconds to look at the bigger addition. Ronal smirks, surely this will be it? “Guess I better grind faster to finish all of these” the human says in glee and continues to grind.

Ronal’s smirk left her lips, fine then. Tomorrow will be worse.

Harsher insults, harsher training, harsher practice. Ronal threw everything at the human, but nothing breaks the human girl. And it infuriates her to the core. Why wasn't she fighting back? Why was she accepting everything? Why was she letting ronal belittle her?

Ronal’s anger grew to where Tonowari had to enterfier.

“Ronal, perhaps you are pushing her too far?” he asks her one day. Ronal scoffs as she does her small tasks in their home. “The human can bare it. Anything I give her, she accepts. That utter fool” she replies. Annoyance heavy on her tone. “She won't break so easily. Not made of sea glass” she continues.

Tonowari sighs, walks up to her and places a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps not, but your tolerance is thinner than these fibers. Perhaps by surprise, it will be you who will break first”.

The human began to make and wear her na’vi like clothing to fit in more. And as she talked more with the other clan members, more began to welcome her with open arms and even into their homes. Adapting more into their culture and ways of life. They began to accept her.

Ronal wasn't so ready to accept the human.

Not yet at least.

One night, after the communal dinner, Ronal took the human away from the noise and into a more quiet part of the small forest. Yet, along the way, the human not once asked where they were going. Never questioned ronal’s actions, her odd behavior. Nothing.

When they arrived at a beautiful blue glowing waterfall, Ronal kept a bit of distance from the human.

“Tell me human, why do you accept?” Ronal asks after a few minutes of silence.

The human blinked once, “accept what tsahik?”.

Hissing in frustration, Ronal turns to look at the human in anger.

“Why do you accept everything?! I keep pushing you to do beyond what you physically can. Accept any insulting word I give you. Force you to do things clearly you are not very comfortable with. Why do you accept my harsh treatment towards you?”

The human sees Ronal and sees how she truly feels. Taking a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders, the human does what she does best.

Give her an honest smile.

“You have every right to treat me that way. While I am not personally responsible for the thousands of killings of the na’vi, I still feel ashamed and guilty as if it were my own crimes. My kind has treated your kind terribly. So, I understand if you feel any anger or hatred towards me for simply being human. But I accept, I accept it all. If it means to be part of your world, your clan. I would gladly accept anything you throw at me. This is a dream come true for me. This planet, the life it holds. The environments, plants, animals, you. I love and respect everything about your world. All I desire is to learn how things are. From learning about Eywa to learning of the na’vi ways. My only desire is to learn. To have you personally teach me, it is a high luck I could never get anywhere else. So that is why I accept all that you give me. A price to pay for the things I can see and experience. So Tsahik, that is why I accept it. As my way to thank you”

Ronal saw the human, looking deep into her eyes to detect any lies, but all she saw was the truth.

“You fool…”

“Irayo, just in time for breakfast” Ronal welcomes her human friend. Irayo, that is what Ronal calls her ever since that night. It's been stuck to her ever since, not that she plans to defy the tsahik wishes.

Irayo sits in the home of ronal and tonowari. Accepting the food, she begins to eat. But not soon after, she felt a little tug from her wrist. Looking down, Irayo sees little tsireya playfully tugging at her bracelet. Taking it off, she hands it to tsireya who tries to bite down on it.

“Has tsireya began teething?” Irayo asks, ronal nods but gives a disapproving look.

“She will rip off the beads. You worked so hard to make it for us” Ronal says as she points to her own matching bracelet. Irayo laughs, “that is fine. It will give me an excuse to make better friendship brackets for us. I will even make another for cute little tsreiya” Irayo replies as she playfully pinches tsireya’s chubby cheeks, making the child squeal in delight.

Tonowari sits down to join them.

“Today irayo and I will attend to the elderly, tsireya will be under your care until noon” Ronal says to him.

Tonowari nods, but couldn't help but smirk a bit. Leaning in, he whispers into Ronal’s ear. “Your friendship with irayo has improved greatly. I still remember when you called her many foolish names”.

Ronal rolls her eyes and taps his forehead lightly.

“I recall no such things. Irayo has been my good friend from the start”

Aaaaaaaaand that is all for this one! I hope you all enjoyed this fic! Until next time, see ya!

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Irayo = Thank you

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neousfics · 5 months ago

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Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs (Miscommunication Edition)

If you liked my fic Miscommunication, here are the fics that inspired it!

I'll let you go if you kiss me goodbye by shadowquill17

Word Count: 5,440

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Edwin and Charles have been kissing regularly for months.

Edwin is under no illusion that it is because Charles is attracted to him. Clearly Charles misses physical intimacy and he cannot get it in a tangible way with anyone living, and while one day he will no doubt find someone who is both dead and attractive to him… in the mean time Edwin is happy to fill in, as someone who is one of those two things.

Only now Charles has met someone, and it seems the day has come for Edwin to let him go.

Review: I've read this one, like, 10 times. It hurts, it comforts. What more can you ask for?

Bright as a Morning by IntoTheUnknown

Word Count: 9,161

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

“You trying to court me like one of your old-fashioned girls?” Charles says, and he doesn’t sound displeased with that idea.

Or:

Edwin tries to navigate a relationship he refuses to believe is reciprocated, while Charles tries to prove that it very much is.

Review: This one is a bit more cute and wholesome than the others on the list, but I love it regardless. We get a fun exploration of Charles and Edwin fumbling through that "we're dating-are we dating?" mess that many early relationships face.

Won't Fear Love by coloursflyaway

Word Count: 10,265

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

„We should go a date“, Charles says on a perfectly bland Tuesday, looking up at Edwin from whatever he is doing at the moment.

If Edwin wasn’t dead already, he would suspect that Charles is trying to kill him.

or:

Five times Charles takes Edwin on a date to figure out if he could fall in love with him, and one time when he has an answer.

Review: We always love a coloursflyaway fic and this is no exception. The dramatic irony of, as a reader, watching Charles fall in love through Edwin's eyes yet also watching Edwin persist in willful ignorance of that love makes the hurt/comfort conclusion all the sweeter. 10/10 love this one.

you can have the best of me, baby (and I will give you anything) by aletterinthenameofsanity

Word Count: 7,466

Rating: Mature

Summary:

So they start kissing, and it turns into more. Into scientific exploration of the sort that Edwin finds himself dedicated to. Too dedicated to.

And Charles is good about it all. Too good about it all, as dedicated to the pursuit as Edwin is.

But that's all it is. Of course it is.

Because the thing about what they're doing is that they should really talk. They should really, really talk. They should say something before their mouths trace each other’s, before Charles helps Edwin shed far too many layers, before Edwin carefully peels Charles out of his own clothes and treats with them as much delicacy than he does any case, because Charles' ripped jeans and beat-up black coat patched with nicked pins is more precious than any artifact ever could be.

But they don't talk.

Of course they don't talk.

Because to talk would make this real, and Edwin needs it to be real, but it can't be real.

Review: I love the way the tone of the fic really changes when we switch from Edwin to Charles. It makes for a lovely bit of reader-frustration that makes you want to bash these boys heads together until they sort out their shit. Of course, the reward is just as sweet when we finally get to see them together.

Kiss You Better by coloursflyaway

Word Count: 4,068

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

The first time Charles kisses him, it wipes Edwin’s mind clean like nothing else ever has. No case, not Hell, no amount of exhilaration or fear or devastation, none of it compares to the moment their lips meet, nothing even comes close.

They have been talking about… something, Edwin cannot even remember the topic, and Charles gets a look on his eyes that he has never seen before, something far away and yet so aware, and one second, Edwin is talking and the next, there are lips pressed against his, soft and warm and tender.

Charles kisses him and it’s like Edwin is finding a new home in his lips, a new purpose in the hand Charles raises to cup his cheek, a new, yet familiar destiny in the little sigh he breathes into Edwin’s mouth; a kiss of life.

----

10 times Edwin thinks Charles is kissing him to figure out if he loves him, and one time he knows better.

Review: Oh look, it's another coloursflyaway fic and its also amazing. How shocking. This has got some fun poetic language in it and of course some good hurt/comfort.

Caravan of Love by Hse11z5

Word Count: 2,442

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Charles and Edwin are both undercover, trying to solve a supernatural mystery on a caravan site. Charles decided, to keep their cover, they must stay the night in the caravan, say disguised, and pretend to sleep like real people do. Unfortunately, there is only one bed. [Written for Painland week - day 6- free day]

Review: Just a classic one bed moment where we get to watch Edwin desperately try to convince himself this is a totally platonic moment while Charles desperately tries to hit on his bestie.

#payneland #dead boy detectives #charles x edwin #fic rec #fic recs

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vibratingskull · 1 month ago

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Hello, I had an idea for fic but it's a bit different to what you typically write so I understand if you wouldn't want to write it.

Imagine some rebels...maybe members of ghost crew intercepts some of Thrawns correspondence thinking that it's really important intel only to find it's some sweet back and forth between him and his SO.

They would be so surprised to find the big bad Grand Admiral being all cute in his messages. 👀

Interesting idea, let's see what it looks like!

⁺ 　 . ✦ Thrawn x F!reader ✦ . 　⁺

Tags: Kallus POV, pregnancy mention, Thrawn and reader are secretly married

Kallus types on the keys, eyes fixed on the screen.

Everyone is asleep in the Ghost but Kallus cannot sleep. They have been hunted mercilessly and now they are exhausted, Hera found a hideout and everyone fell face first in their pillows.

But Kallus is obsessed with a thought, something he did not have time to investigate while he was still a mole in the Empire.

He still needs to prove himself to his new rebel companions and he hopes that lead could be his ticket! Back when he was under the Empire he noticed ghost communications emanating from Grand Admiral Thrawn’s personal comms and terminals and while he found them suspicious they were not coded as orders that he needed to dig for the rebellion.

But now those communications shine in a very suspect light and he wants to get to the bottom of it.

He is no master hacker and Thrawn evidently changed all the codes of his ship to prevent Kallus from recovering them now that he is a rebel, but Thrawn cannot decide how to modify such encryptions, it obeys a very specific bureaucratic imperial logic.

Logic Kallus grew accostumed to.

For 4 weeks he tried to break the code, spending sleepless nights on this forsaken screen destroying his eyes in the dark and tonight he finally got it!

This is a one-time thing, knowing Thrawn as he does he will realize someone broke his security and stole his secrets.

And considering the encryptions on those communications, he will be absolutely furious and the hunt will get worse.

Kallus knows it

He enters, gathers a maximum of information, eliminates as many proofs of his presence, and runs to wake up Hera to change hideouts immediately!

He thought he would discover a one-way channel through which Thrawn transferred his plans to the Imperial palace to the Navy’s siege or even Lord Vader or the Emperor...

But he noticed those data left the Chimaera to return straight back to it...

Internal ship discussions do not use the triads to be sent and use an intranet and a computer to communicate informations. But Thrawn decided to muddy his trail by sending the data to a triad that recodes it again before sending the data back to the Chimaera.

With whom was he communicating and about what!?

He finishes typing his command and a new window pops up before his eye

A Discussion

To a certain “Ch’acah”

He never encountered that word. Is that a title? Nobody on the Chimaera is named Ch’acah.

...

What the hell...?

Ch’acah: ”How was your day, Thrawn?”

Thrawn: “Uneventful. My planning brought us to victory again and we are gaining in the rebels. Only Konstantine remains a wild card.”

Ch’acah: “Again? When will he learn that we need his cooperation for the plans to work as intended? He can’t allow himself to do what he wants like that!”

Thrawn: “I agree.”

Ch’acah: “I will try to have a word with him.”

Thrawn: “Thank you for your concern Ch’acah, but I would prefer you refrain. It will only had to your stress, and you do not need stress right now.”

Ch’acah: “I am pregnant, not dying, silly.”

Thrawn: “I prefer to be safe than sorry.”

...

Kallus blinks and reread all of that.

Pregnancy? Daring to call Thranw ‘silly’?

What did he stumble across?

He keeps reading

Thrawn: “I would never forgive myself if something happened to our baby.”

Ch’acah: “Nothing is going to happen to me or the baby, especially when I am with you on the Chimaera. I know you will do your best to protect us.”

Thrawn: “I am doing my best. Nothing will ever reach you two while I am alive, I swear it Ch’acah.”

Ch’acah: “Hihi, I know my love, I know.”

Thrawn: “I miss you daily even though we see each other every day. Hiding ourselves from the world tear my heart to pieces.”

Ch’acah: “You can reenact your marriage proposal on the bridge before everyone else if you want! <3”

Thrawn: “ (Y/n)... You know I cannot.”

Kallus almost spat out his caff

YOU?

You and... Thrawn are together? A couple? And you are pregnant?!

He remembers chatting with you from time to time and honestly praising your performance when he was still loyal to the Empire, when he turned to the rebellion he started avoiding you, judging you as a danger to his cover.

He always found you competent and intelligent, and visibly Thrawn thought the same and got seduced.

He would have never guessed Thrawn would get his heart stolen! And by you?

You were more dangerous than he first judged!

Thrawn: “If we are revealed you would become a target. The rebels and the Empire will try to get to you, to the baby, to reach me.”

Ch’acah: “I know... I was joking. Me too I would prefer to be free to hug you whenever I want...”

Thrawn: “Soon, Ch’acah, soon... When my true plans will succeed, when I know everyone in the galaxy is safe from that exterior threat, we will be together and free. I love you, ch’eo Ch’acah, more than anything.”

Ch’acah: “Me too, my love, more than anything.”

Kallus takes a minute

This is not what he expected

Not at all even

He feels like he walked in on something he should have never seen...

He never suspected that... softer... side of the Grand Admiral Thrawn.

He doesn’t know if that humanizes him in his eyes or gives him the creeps.

Thrawn is deadly and Kallus doesn’t really want to discover how he is when someone were to stand between him and you...

Between him and his baby...

Kallus thinks, does he even have it in himself to target a pregnant woman?

Would it not be what an Imperial would do? A rebel would probably have more morals than that...

Kallus contemplates the messages, the love that was hidden even to his eyes. He remembers you as a diligent and loyal officer to Thrawn and the Chiss showed respect to your person and gave a lot of consideration to your opinions on his tactics and plans in retrospect.

Now that Kallus has those informations, a lot of things click in his mind, about you and Thrawn’s behaviors in the presence of the other.

A secret couple

A hidden pregnancy

Thrawn is right about one thing, the Emperor will certainly try to get that baby, the offspring of his most prized tactician

This is literally a death sentence for you, it is only a matter of time. No rebel will even need to intervene: if Thrawn does nothing, the Emperor will get to him himself.

Kallus decides to exit the conversation

Destroys as much proof of his visit as he can

And stand up to wake up Hera and flee somewhere safe.

Thrawn will never allow such secret to spread and will do his best to hunt the intruder until he slits his throat

But somehow

For some reason

Kallus sympathizes with his new enemy, he would not want to be in his position

Never.

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @thrawnspetgoose @thrawnalani @twilekchiss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @obbicrystaleo @elise2174@davesrightshoe @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @princesslunamoon19 @janjtje @helrose8

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x y/n #fanfic #vibratingskull

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nothorses · 4 months ago

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Regarding the Congress bathroom thing. I cant help but think their strategy is to try to cast it as 'dems are wasting time standing up for trans people instead of focusing on real issues' while making a hostile workplace so they can just make her look crazy. A lot of people think trans issues are a waste of time bc there aren't that many of us, and it's in their favor to make it look like other people are the ones wasting time on it. It's bait - fighting it would be falling into a trap.

I think the problem with this is that Republicans are actually literally passing very enforceable laws that make it illegal for trans people to use the bathrooms that correspond with our gender, and by extension also put us at greater risk of transphobic violence- and MUCH greater risk of police brutality- if a visibly gnc/trans or passing trans person uses any other gendered bathroom, too.

It's dangerous for me to visit my fiancé's family in Florida right now, and I haven't tried in over two years, because they passed a law there that makes it essentially impossible for me to safely use the bathroom in the airport after I land in Florida (and many other bathrooms!).

Anyone who suspects me of being in the wrong bathroom can tell me to leave, and I have to comply immediately or risk arrest (and police brutality as a result). If I don't leave immediately enough when told, they can call the cops to "verify my sex assigned at birth", a thing that there is currently no documentation to prove, meaning I'd have to show my genitals to the cops... and again risk police brutality! Even if I'm in the "right" bathroom by their standards!

Either I try the men's bathroom and hope I pass well enough to everyone there that nobody thinks to question it/that there are no "transvestigation" freaks feeling particularly inclined towards vigilantism that day, or go to the women's bathroom and hope even harder that the only people in there are trans allies. Again: even in a women's restroom, I would have to leave or risk the cops. Because I do not and cannot look (or sound) like a woman.

This is so much worse for people who actually live in FL, and who can't just, like, choose not to fly in. And this is happening in other places, too.

Bathroom laws aren't a silly niche unimportant issue that can be sacrificed to Republicans in pursuit of more meaningful justice. They actually literally matter, in real life, right now.

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ignylinn · 3 months ago

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Okay, it all makes sense with the Crows.

So, imagine Caterina. A very dangerous, a very very clever woman. I mean, she is old. You don't get old in her profession if you are not exrtremely clever and careful. She has a clan to protect, she is old, and she thinks about the future. What does she want for the Crows? How does she want a sustainable future for them? I think her goal is legitimizing the Crows: for the people of Antiva, for the powers of Antiva, and for other nations.

She manages to acquire a bastard son of the king.

She feeds him an idea of "the Crows rule Antiva". She gives him power, but never too much power. She does not want him to become the First Talon, though he is much more competent as a leader than Lucanis and Illario combined.

Lucanis is meant to be a new Crows figurehead: a highly competent, but somehow kind and soft hearted guy, a very safe person to present to legitimate governments and organizations.

Illario was probably meant to manage real Crows assassination work, but proved to be too stupid for that.

She, of course, means for Viago to become a king eventually. She cannot outright assassinate the king without a lot of preparation. She needs the people and neighbours on her side.

She waits for the opportunity (and I'm sure does a lot of things to achieve her goals anyway). The first opportunity comes in the form of Antaam invasion.

The Crows become extremely patriotic. They oppose the Antaam, help the poor, save kittens, etc., all the whole doubling down on the idea that the central power does nothing, and it's only the Crows standing between ordinary people and Qunari.

The invasion also lets them abandon child stealing practices: traumatized, politicized pro-Crows war orphans, child soldiers, can't wait to be enlisted into the People's Army of Antiva. Crows, of course, accept them. A very dubious practice; the whole Jacobus story is... bad, from in-world perspective.

The people are on their side.

I also suspect that the war with Antaam goes at a necessary pace.

Then the second opportunity presents itself: the Veilguard. The very best dudes from various countries and various political factions start to just casually wander around, and also want an alliance. They are presented with "new Crows", and provided with Lucanis - as was his role. They are also fed with the idea that the Crows are the real power here.

Thankfully, the world does not end, and by the end of the Veilguard all necessary pieces are in place for Caterina.

It is so good now, that the events will unfold as she intended even if she dies.

What do I think happens next? I think the King will be killed - not through assassination, but through rebellion. Viago will be welcomed as a king by basically everyone.

The Crows will be legitimized and transformed into something new. They won't need to continue their assassin business on such a scale - they are rich, they are powerful, they are popular, and they can play safer now.

And last thing. Why Caterina did not side with Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain? That's cause she is clever)) If the world does end, none of it will matter. If it does not, those who are now in the opposition will rule the world. Being friends with them is a much better option.

#dragon age veilguard #antivan crows #caterina dellamorte #lucanis dellamorte #viago de riva #illario dellamorte #dragon age lore #jacobus egrativi #datv

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waterlilylullabies · 1 month ago

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Study Session: Vol. 1

Gale x OC Smut, MDNI!

Pure smut. Total nonsense, enjoy.

CW: Softdom Gale, AFAB

As Gale steps into the room, a copy of Azebin Jeqor’s Ars Magicka very nearly glances off his head. The projectile is swiftly followed by a cry of “Oh Gods Gale, I’m so sorry! Did I hit you?” He bends to retrieve the book, checking it over for damage before turning to Roslyn, who has spirited herself towards him and is hovering about him with frantic concern. He places a swift kiss to her forehead “I’m fine dearest, though I do strongly object to you attempting to pulverize the only surviving copy of one of the greatest treatises on conjuration ever put to parchment”, he gives her a look which he hopes is stern, one that he often gives his students, but he can tell from the smile she is only barely biting back that it’s a lost cause. “I’m sorry” she says, batting her lashes at him. He sighs and goes to the bookshelf to return the tome to a place that is safely out of Roslyn’s reach. “May I ask what inspired you to throw it?” He suspects he already knows the answer. Roslyn has collapsed onto the settee in the corner of the room. She chews absentmindedly at her thumbnail. “Tedious” she harrumphs. “Ah” he smiles, “I take it the summoning spell Jeqor outlines is proving more challenging than you anticipated?” He settles himself next to her and she drapes her bare legs over him.

He runs his hand along her calves, her skin is warm and soft and he notes with no small amount of interest that she is wearing, what to his mind is the most perfect, if entirely impractical item of clothing ever created. It is a burnt orange silk slip, which sets off the pale pearlescence of Roslyn’s complexion and leaves perilously little to the imagination. The day he bought it for her she joked that she loved it so much she’d never take it off. She’d slipped it on and stepped out from behind the ornate changing screen she’s propped in the corner of their room. The sight of her, glowing and delighted and achingly beautiful had him half hard before she even laid a hand on him. “Leave it on.” He’d growled in a voice so full of hunger that Roslyn had blushed. His hand twitches involuntarily at the memory of silk beneath his hands and his lips against her throat as he’d thrusted up into her.

He’s shaken from his musings by Roslyn’s disconsolate sigh. She’s gazing mournfully at the ceiling. “If it’s any consolation Ros, it took me almost a week to master that spell” he smiles. She laughs softly “that’s no consolation at all Gale” she closes her eyes “I’ve been at it for nearly a month”. She sits up abruptly, swings her legs off him and goes to stand in the centre of the room. She speaks the incantation. Her enunciation is clear and the quick decisive flick of her wrist is perfectly timed. Still, the porcelain vase which she had placed on the small table on the balcony a month before remains resolutely in place. He frowns, crosses the room, comes to stand behind her. “Try it again”, he observes more carefully this time, taking note of her stance, watching the careful way she summons up the weave before releasing it. The vase stays put. She turns to him with her fists balled “why isn’t it working?” her tone sharp with impatience and frustration. He paces slowly around her, “are you focusing on the vase?” he asks. “Yes!” She snaps exasperatedly, “that bloody vase is all I think about! I can sketch the pattern around the lip from memory, I know how much it weighs, I know it’s exact dimensions, I know-“. He cuts her off “therein, my dearest one, is the source of the problem.”

She is scandalised “I’m trying to summon the vase Gale. I think it’s probably helpful to focus on it”. He comes to stand in front of her “Ros, you have more innate magical ability than most wizards could ever hope to wield” he pushes back her dark tangled curls and cups her face in his hands “but you have yet to learn that you cannot approach spell work with sheer stubbornness”. She groans “you’re making even less sense that that bloody book.” Her eyes are fixed on the vase and she shifts her stance, about to try again, but he steps behind her, wraps an arm around her waist and bends to her ear “try focusing on yourself, not on the vase” he whispers. “What?” she snaps. He grazes the side of her neck with the back of his hand. “Relax, stop trying to force it.” She sighs, then turns to look at him over her shoulder. “Yes professor” she says sardonically rolling her eyes, but all the same, her voice is pitched ever so slightly higher.

“Close your eyes, good. Now breathe in. Hold it. And breathe out.” She does as instructed. “Keep your eyes closed” He says softly “and don’t move”. He presses a lingering kiss to the back of her neck, breathes in something like honey and spice, the ineffable scent of her. She shudders. “Do you trust me Ros?” He murmurs against her neck. She nods. He moves to stand in front of her, presses a kiss to each closed eyelid and then kneels.

“Have you ever wondered” he asks, lifting her right leg and propping it on his shoulder “why wizards are so insufferably arrogant?” He kisses the inside of her knee. She clears her throat “Frequently, yes” she replies. He trails kisses along her the soft skin of her inner thigh. “Well I’ll tell you a secret Ros, a hard earned trick of the trade. Contrary to popular belief, Wizard’s don’t exert their will through the weave” he bunches the fabric of her slip in his hands, lifts it higher, exposing even more of her to him. “Magic is much more akin to a dance, between two partners who are intimately familiar” he reaches the apex of her thighs and inhales deeply. Roslyn suppresses a little whine “A wizard trusts their partner will follow their lead, even through the most complex of dances. They don’t watch their partner’s footwork, they focus on their own” He looks up at her, her cheeks are already flushed and her breath is coming faster. He smiles “Any decent wizard knows, that they needn’t force anything, they need only trust that the object of their desire’s will come to them”. He flattens his tongue against her core and suppresses a smile as she moans.

His eyes flick to her face, she is looking down at him, mouth agape “Keep your eyes closed Ros”. She does as he asks and he buries his face deeper between her thighs.

He laps at her slowly, methodically, His nose bumps against her clit and her fingers come to tangle in his hair, urging him on.

He notices that she is hovering slightly, trying to keep her weight off him. No, he thinks, that won’t do. He reaches around and grips her left thigh and pulls her down firmly and decisively. “Gale” she sighs. He’s already hard, but she speaks his name and he wonders, and not without justification, if that alone will tip him over the edge.

He traces circles around her clit, he knows it is almost, but not quite enough to undo her. He wants to ruin her completely. He wants to coax from her those noises that he loves so much. He wants her to come undone on his tongue over and over again. He wants her under him; insensible,shuddering, and sated. He wants all of this, all of her, all of the time, with a ferocity that would frighten him if he didn’t see that same hunger mirrored in her eyes. He pulls away for a moment “Are you still focusing on the vase?” He pants “No, Gods no, don’t stop”. She whimpers. As if he needs to be told, as if he has any intention of stopping. All the same, hearing her ask for it, beg for it so sweetly, stokes a fire in him.

He squeezes the trembling thigh propped on his shoulder and she moans, loudly and shamelessly. “Gale I’m close, I’m so close, I’m so close” she chants and he knows she is, he can taste it, sweet and perfect on his tongue. He hums against her and suddenly she is crying his name brokenly and then he is holding her up and then she is laughing in disbelief.

He looks up at her, she is holding the vase. He grins. Roslyn turns it over in her hands bemused “Did you know that would work?” She asks, her cheeks are flushed so prettily and she looks so very happy that he can’t help but smile wider. “It was, I’ll admit, a novel and highly experimental approach” he says struggling to his feet.

Her eyes sweep to his crotch and she grins, “Well, it certainly warrants further consideration. Perhaps you’d like to join me on the bed Gale? I could use your help summoning that tea set”

#baldurs gate gale #bg3 gale #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x oc #gale x reader #gale x tav #bg3 smut #gale #gale smut #galemance #gale thoughts

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