#Thrawn does sex work

[spaceasianmillennial]

How Thrawn got the Nightsister Mothers Help

The Witches: We want... a mutually beneficial arrangement, if we are to ally.

Thrawn: I can arrange that.

Plot Twist: It turns out Thrawn performs excellent sex work for the Witches, like how Max Bialystock in The Producers sorta does sex work with old ladies to produce his musicals.

Thrawn: The art of sex work takes skills and experience.

#Adult joke #thrawn #ahsoka #nightsister #Thrawn does sex work #nightsisters

[ceapa-mica]

Grand Admiral Thrawn - The NSFW Alphabet 💋

I had the autistic urge™ to put my Thrawn thots into alphabetical order. This Thrawn NSFW alphabet is the result of my three month Thrawn brainrot. Enjoy! ❤️

There is no mention of the reader's gender btw.

🔞 This is 18+ content, minors stay away! 🔞

First of all, congratulations! 🎉 You successfully managed to seduce the Galaxy's smartest, most emotionally constipated, art loving, morally grey character. That's very brave of you!

Now let's get started!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Thrawn makes sure you're cleaned up and comfortable. If you're big on cuddling, this could be something he has to get used to first. He would also remind you to use the refresher after sex to avoid catching a UTI.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your human eyes fascinate him, he likes to imagine what a painting done with the color of your irises would look like. As for himself, it's his arms. He loves how you seem to fit perfectly into his warm embrace. He holds you close with them, safe from any harm.

One day after taking a shower with you, he looks at the reflection of your nude bodies in the mirror and realizes that you two look like a piece of art together. He loves the contrast of his blue skin and your [your skin color] skin together.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man cums a lot and I imagine it tastes slightly different from human cum. He likes cuming inside you but also likes seeing you covered in ropes of his cum like a work of art. Where he cums depends on where you want him to cum, and if you don't care, it just depends on where he wants it to go. If he had to choose one, he would always cum inside you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When he first felt attracted to you, he had searched for erotic art of people that resemble you to figure out if those feelings are in fact attraction.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Thrawn only had very few partners before you, but he's a quick learner. He definitely knows the basics and should he be unfamiliar with something you wanna try, explain it to him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that offers him a good view of your body. He loves seeing you on top, looking up and admiring you riding him. To him your body is a work of art, this man worships every inch of you!

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc

Thrawn is a serious person. His sense of humor is very dry and he wouldn't use it during sex. He's focused on you, and you only. Making you feel good and leaving you satisfied afterwards is something he takes very seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

You can't tell me this man doesn't have a hair and body care routine. I imagine Chiss don't have much body hair in general. (To keep warm on Csilla they have thicker skin and a high metabolism.) He keeps his looks clean and tidy, and yes, the carpet matches the drapes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Look, this man wouldn't just go and sleep with anyone. He's a Grand Admiral and has a reputation to maintain. If he sleeps with you, you must mean a lot to him if he decides to take that step with you. To him it's a way to connect with you on a deeper level. He continuously tells you how beautiful you are and what he loves about you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you he used to masturbate rarely and during your relationship he stopped masturbation altogether. He simply prefers sex with you over his own hand. Unless you're separated for a longer period of time, that's when he would masturbate only while calling you via holocomm where you can see each other and satisfy each other's desires from afar.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He has a competency kink™. Watching you work on something you’re good at, being all professional, it makes Thrawn melt. He will keep up his mask until you're alone with him in his quarters, then he will be all over you, praising you for your good work and fucking you senseless.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Thrawn has a reputation, he's a Grand Admiral, you wouldn't catch him in the act in a supply closet or anywhere else on board of the Chimera that isn't his quarters. He wants his private life to remain private. Inside his quarters he has a large bed and a comfortable luxurious sofa, and he likes to take you on either.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Like I said before, he's into competency, and there's nothing more attractive to him than you passionately talking about work or hobbies, anything that you love doing. The passionate spark that appears in your eyes makes him want to support you unconditionally and at the same time makes him want to take you to his bedroom to show you what you mean to him. Oh and you explaining a piece of art to him he doesn't know much about yet? Instant turn on!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Thrawn draws the line at degrading or hurting you. He doesn't understand how anyone could actually enjoy that. To him, you are the most beautiful person in the Galaxy, and he makes sure to remind you of that whenever he can. He always asks for your consent too, just to reassure himself you actually want this.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Thrawn clearly prefers giving oral. To him your taste is something he didn't know he needed, and now he could spend hours down between your legs, lapping up your juices and stimulating you, making you cum over and over on his tongue. He doesn't mind receiving oral, but definitely prefers cuming inside your pussy or on your body instead of inside your mouth.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Thrawn is very thorough when it comes to sex. He wants you to feel all of him, so he prefers being slow and sensual. Unless you crave a fast and rough fucking or when he's had a bad day at work (some pent up frustration over Krennic’s antics idk) then and only then will he go for fast and rough sex.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn't like them and he doesn't do them. He wants to take his time to love you properly, and that can't be done in a ten minute quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sure, he's up to anything you're willing to try, unless it's something that could hurt you or involves other people. Thrawn would never share you with anyone, that's unheard of where he comes from.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His enormous self control allows him to go for hours. An average human body would be exhausted after two rounds with him. So the question should be how many rounds can YOU go for?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Thrawn is open to new ways of pleasuring you. Initially he doesn't know much about sex toys, but after you explain what you want to try with him, and after some research on it, he's willing to try out toys with you. He prefers using them on you instead of himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's a patient man, and he knows about the perks of delayed gratification. When he's in the mood to tease, he will edge you. He loves watching you squirm underneath him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Thrawn is not very loud. Labored breathing, moaning into the crook of your neck and occasional grunts when he picks up the pace are the only sounds you can expect of him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

With your consent, he would either paint a picture of you in the nude, or pay an artist to do it, so when you're separated, he can have a piece of you with him, that's only meant for his eyes.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thrawn has a healthy muscular body with several scars from past battles. I imagine his cock looks pretty much human, safe for the color of his skin of course. It's just slightly bigger and it has alien ridges that feel incredible when inside of you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not very high until you came into his life. He didn't know he could feel this way about anyone. With you his sex drive is average, he makes time for sex when his busy schedule allows him to. You better have nothing planned for that period of time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Chiss don't require as much sleep as humans. While you doze off next to him, he works on his datapad some more before falling asleep, or he simply watches you sleep peacefully next to him while being the big spoon. You should get used to red glowing eyes in the dark when you stay overnight or move into his quarters.

If this has inspired any additional thots, pls let me know in the comments. ❤️

#grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #thrawn x you #thrawn x reader #thrawn headcanon #star wars rebels #ahsoka series #thrawn fanfiction #star wars #thrawn smut

[al-astakbar]

☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ The Gift ☆part 7/?

> summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

> pairing ☆  Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [2.2k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ sex, mentions of bondage > series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7

> posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

When you get back to his quarters, he puts you over his desk and gives you a slow, thorough fucking. Compounded with how you had denied yourself the night before, he leaves you tender and aching with need. 

It need not be like this every time. 

He cleans you up again. Gentle attention that you think the schedule of a Grand Admiral should not have time for. He does it as intently as you’ve seen him do everything else, a lingering touch as he wipes his spend from your thighs. You can’t help a quiet moan nor the quiver that goes through you when he runs the cloth over your labia.

“Would you like to be alone?” His voice is low, soft, his expression knowing. 

Damn him, you almost--almost-- say yes. “No.”

**

For you, the rest of the day is quiet. You stay in the small sitting area, reading on the datapad, or else looking at the art or out the viewport at the blue stream of hyperspace.

If this is a template for how your days will be aboard the Chimaera, you suppose you will have to get used to monotony and loneliness. In the time Thrawn is at his desk, he hardly acknowledges you. After a lunch without conversation (he eats nothing), he goes into another room of the suite that is locked to you and does not come out for several hours.

By dinner you are restless, and almost glad for his company.

Two serving droids bring the meal and lay out two place settings at the small dining area next to the huge viewport in his main cabin. 

When the meal is cleared away, Thrawn’s plate again untouched, he tells you that you may spend the rest of the evening reading. That is better, you suppose, than what was permitted during your training in the cloister on Coruscant, where you couldn’t access the holonet. Still, you miss having embroidery to work on, and nameless, faceless friends to whisper to while doing chores.

Several times, you glance up from the datapad to find Thrawn looking at you appraisingly, as if trying to decide what to do with you. 

**

The rest of the trip to the Outer Rim passes in much the same way. You were expecting the passage of time in space to feel strange, after so long planet-side, but for the most part it doesn’t. The ship maintains its own day/night rhythm. The lights cycle on and off. The crew work in shifts, though there isn’t much to do yet, this early in a deployment. 

Thrawn wakes you at the same time every morning, you go to the bridge with him and observe silently from a corner. Ronan, to your frustration, continues to pretend like you don’t exist. 

You find little ways to annoy your new master: leaving your clothes all over the floor, blowing bubbles in your drinks, persistently asking him questions while he’s trying to work. More than once you push him too far and he strips you naked, ties you kneeling beside his desk. Sometimes a gag if he particularly wants quiet. Every time he does, you sit there fuming, petulant and humiliated, but you never fight him on it. Not really. You’d never admit it to him, or to anyone, but the restraint is almost calming.

Thoughts of your time on Coruscant linger in your mind most days, especially with little else to occupy you. The datapad, you’ve found after more searching and testing, has limited accesses, so you can’t get much new to read or watch. Thrawn’s art collection, while interesting at first, becomes familiar and mundane. By this point you think you could name each piece in order with your eyes closed. 

“I miss my friends,” you say aloud one evening. You don’t even really mean to say it to him, he’s just there, as always, reading quietly. 

He looks up. “Your friends on the city planet?”

You nod, suddenly a little shy. He actually sounds interested.

“The two who were with you at the ceremony did not seem friendly.” 

“Not the ones you saw. Mirri and Solis. They weren’t-- they weren’t nice. They were always there, they made sure we didn’t misbehave.”

Something flashes in Thrawn’s eyes-- perhaps he has something to say about the ineffectiveness of their methods when it comes to your own behavior. But instead he just asks more about what it was like, and you find no reason not to tell him. You were not supposed to use your own name, or anyone else’s. Your face was nearly always covered, so you had never really known what any of the others being trained looked like-- only brief glimpses. Shadowy impressions, a beautiful girl with light hair and eyes, a boy younger than you with curly brown hair and full lips, countless others.

None of you were supposed to acknowledge each other in any way that could remind you of your individuality, but you had still talked to them. Learned who they were by their voices and brief glimpses of exposed hands. You could tell a lot from that. From the skin tones and length and number of fingers. Not all were humans. You had seen other skin tones, like blue and green and yellow and orange, and some you could tell had to be Twi’leks from the way the hoods draped over their heads and lekku. Some wanted to be there, thought it would raise their social standing. Some were like you, unwilling and defiant. Some were broken, with no voice. 

They were all strangers, essentially. You had traded stories in hushed whispers, of others who had come before you, and their fates with cruel or kind masters. But most who left the cloister just disappeared. You would have no way of finding them again. 

“They were still my friends,” you add, a little defensive.

Until now, Thrawn has listened intently as you tell him all this, but offered no comment or reassurance. “I have no doubt,” he says softly.  

In his quarters, he fucks you efficiently and regularly, driving you closer to madness and relief every time. He knows what he is doing to you. He tells you he can feel how slick and tight you are, how good you feel, your lovely cunt takes my cock so well. He knows how his voice affects you, he feels you push your hips back to meet his when he murmurs obscene praise against your neck. He knows you still deny yourself pleasure, even as you moan his name and spread your legs to take him deeper.

At meals, you eat methodically while he watches you and eats nothing. Not even a sip of water, caf, nor the emerald wine served with supper, which is delicious. It makes you lightheaded, since you haven’t had alcohol since before arriving on Coruscant, over a year ago. The food is much richer than you’re used to as well. You mention both of these things to him one evening, instead of accusing him of being a creep for just sitting there staring at you. 

“It’s the standard meal served in the galley,” he explains. “Breakfast and lunch, too. Other than these accommodations and my pay, I claim few privileges. I eat the same as my crew does.”

You snort, taking a pointed sip of wine. Was that pronouncement supposed to win you over? “I’m sure the crew appreciates your humility and all the sacrifices you’ve made.”

“Perhaps.” 

“I’m willing to bet they don’t get a wine ration either.”

“They don’t,” he confirms. 

You have a moment to feel smug, having gotten him to admit some small hypocrisy. 

“You speak as if you’ve been in their position,” he says. “Have you served aboard a starship before? Prior military, perhaps? Or mercenary work.”

You freeze, glass halfway to your lips. For a moment, you consider denying it, but he misses nothing. Your reaction has already given it away. But if he guesses anything more specific-- it’s something you’d really rather not admit, especially to a Grand Admiral. “How’d you get that from wine rations and humility?” 

“You aren’t particularly… cordial… with officers. You know enough about ships to be impressed with the Chimaera-- on the approach the other day,” he specifies. 

“Anyone would be.”

“You have a sense of how ships function, how information flows among the crew-- “ he pauses with a slight frown. “My apologies. There is a word for it in my native tongue. I do not know its equivalent in Basic.”

“Gossip?” 

He shakes his head. “It is slang for the spread of rumors among the junior enlisted, as both an information network and a pastime.”

“How do you say it in your language?”

Thrawn hesitates. You think you might see some odd reluctance in his expression, but he masks it quickly, and answers. “Csarrob.” 

You try repeating it, but can’t quite form your lips and tongue to mimic the sounds. “The ships I was on called it the underground. Or the mafia, depending on what ship and what part of the galaxy.”

Thrawn goes quiet for a moment, the type of quiet you’ve come to recognize as the times he is thinking, and about to say something inconveniently perceptive. He sits back in his chair, one arm crossed over his chest, his other hand touching his chin. You’ve seen the same pose on the bridge-- with a dangerous edge to his usual even tone, he says one word that makes your heart drop. “Rebel.” 

There’s no way he could have known, nobody could have told him-- coming to the cloister, everyone’s identity was wiped clean. No one there had known, there were no records. You’d been given a new name, a new chain code. 

“You served on Rebel ships,” he presses.

You swallow a large gulp of wine and nod. 

His eyes seem to glow brighter. “And your position? Not very high, I would imagine, given that you’re here.”

Your mouth feels too dry. “Yeah, I was-- I was nothing, really. I was nobody. I served meals and mended uniforms. Fixed radios, cleaned blasters. Anything that needed to be done.” And though you’re loathe to admit it, your time so far with Thrawn has been luxurious compared to your short stint in the Rebellion. You had barely thought about it for so long, you’d almost forgotten. It had been buried, deep, and you’d never even thought to worry someone might find out.

“And you believed you needed to conceal this from me,” he says. “Explain your reasoning.”

“Other than…” you gesture at him. At his uniform. His rank. He gives you a level stare, as if to say ‘continue.’  “Fine. Well, I wasn’t trying to hide anything. It’s not a very exciting story. I was captured. Eventually sent through the ISB system. They interrogated me and then recommended me for the training.”

“So. You’ve been… domesticated.” He puts a sly twist on the word, suggestive in a way that makes arousal knife through you.

Your instinct is to glare at him, but you only manage to sound petulant. “Should I be kneeling at your feet during meals?”

“Perhaps. You might find that you enjoy it.”   

This sets your mind spinning, and it’s all you can think about the rest of the evening as you try to read on the datapad. He has unbalanced you so easily. The incisive deductions about your past -- ‘Rebel’ in his smooth, modulated voice replays in your mind over and over-- though he does not seem angry about it, or hateful, like you would expect of an Imperial. Only intrigued. 

As for the idea he’d put in your head… kneeling at his feet. During meals, or maybe while he’s working. He already makes you do it while restrained, but to settle there at his side by your own choice… Somehow the thought of it is calming, almost a fantasy. Sitting on the couch, you steal a glance at Thrawn, who is engrossed with something at his desk. You take a deep, slow breath. He might let you lean your head against his leg. Stroke your hair idly as he occasionally reads aloud from whatever he’s working on, his voice cool and soft. He seems to like your hair. He often touches it when he has you over his desk, brushing it off your face or combing his fingers through it as he fucks you and fills you over and over. 

Later, through the night and the following days and weeks, you try to keep yourself at a distance from him. It doesn’t really help. You find yourself unable to keep your eyes off him. Even in the privacy of your own thoughts, he holds this power over you.

You sit up attentively when you hear the hatch opening which signals his return. You listen when he speaks, though that isn’t often. He rarely chooses to share with you, and it only makes you more curious for information about him, his thoughts-- anything. In the meantime, you watch him, observing carefully, entranced by his quiet manner and his utter command over himself and his ship. 

Noticing that he was attractive before that was different, you rationalize. Anyone could see that. Just as anyone could pass a particularly attractive person on the street and notice them, but not spend the next month falling under their thrall. And each time you spread your legs for him, you tell yourself it’s because you agreed, because he convinced you that all the alternatives were worse. Not because you might, just a little, like his attention.

☆ link to part 8 ☆

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#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn fic #star wars #thrawn x you #thrawn fanfiction #thrawn x y/n #thrawn fanfic

[thrawns-babygirl]

Sensations (Thrawn x F!Reader)

Okay ya'll the moment I saw Morgan Elsbeth in Ahsoka and she said she was a witch of Dathomir my brain immediately was like "Alright crazy hot magical witch sex with Thrawn" and then I had to write something for it. This has no spoilers for Ahsoka in it obviously lol, its pure filth. So please, enjoy :)

Reader is a Nightsister of Dathomir, just ignore why a nightsister is on the ISD Chimaera and enjoy the smut. Okay? Okay.

Ratings: E (18+)

Warnings: Oral (F!Receiving), Magicks, Edging, Sub!Thrawn (Kinda?), Unprotected PiV, Creampie,

Word count: 2100+

Masterlist

He wasn’t entirely sure where it all began. The lingering touches, the heated eye contact that would last far longer than either of you could consider professional. All that Grand Admiral Thrawn does know is that he is very happy with where it all ended.

You’re seated on the end of the bed as he walks into his quarters, a breach of protocol for sure, but he’s never been too fussed with strict imperial procedure. You have a regal air about you, seated naked on the soft sheets, thin whisps of green energy slithering around your fingers as you lock eyes with him, a challenge, an invitation. One that he is all too eager to accept.

The crisp, white uniform is quickly shed, folded, and placed neatly on his desk until he too is naked, his cock already half hard with the knowledge of what’s to come. His eyes track your form as you stand and stalk over to him, your poise is captivating, your footsteps silent as you gracefully glide across the dimly lit room towards him.

“You worked longer today Grand Admiral” you purr in that exotically alluring Dathomirian accent as you run your hands along the broad muscles of his shoulders, the energy from your fingertips dispersing into his skin. Thrawn barely supresses a shudder as he feels the lightning from your touch. He’s not sure if the sensation is from the mysticism of your art or if that is simply the effect your touch has on him at this point. As if you have his body so finely tuned that a single brush of your fingertip is enough to make his heart race and his knees weak.

“Were you perhaps concerned I had forgotten about our rendezvous?” you chuckle in response and this time Thrawn doesn’t manage to supress his body’s physical reaction to your presence. You lean up to whisper in his ear “Never Grand Admiral… you and I both know you crave this…” and despite his carefully constructed façade of power and control, he cannot help but concede your point. He is addicted to this, addicted to you.

Once again, he’s not sure if this is a result of the supernatural power you wield, if you are slowly warping his mind to thirst for you or if this is simply the effect of his baser animalistic desires he’s always tried to supress and control. But the moment he feels your soft lips kiss along his neck and jaw, he does not care, he simply closes his eyes and allows the magicks of your touch to consume him.

“Tonight, I would like to show you something” your melodic voice pulls him out of his thoughts as he opens his eyes. The first thing he notices is the green haze surrounding the both of you as you stand naked together in his room. He simply nods as you lead him over to the bed, well aware that whatever you wish to show him is beyond his understanding and will make itself abundantly clear very soon.

He lays down on the bed, his cock having grown harder since you began your teasing touches along his body now rests against his abdomen, a small bead of precum smears along his abs as it twitches in anticipation. You give him a sickly-sweet smile, the kind you only give him when you’re about to take him to new peaks of pleasure he didn’t even know his body could experience and it makes his length throb.

“I want you to close your eyes for me Grand Admiral, close your eyes and open your mind” you only ever refer to him by his rank. Part of him wonders if it is out of respect or if it’s a reminder of the power you hold over a man of his station, either way, he closes his eyes as he feels pinpricks of energy make their way over his body.

He feels his body grow sensitive, his nerve endings alight with new sensations. He wants to open his eyes, he wants to watch as you work your magicks over him, but he resists the urge and allows the new feelings to wash over him.

“You may open your eyes now Grand Admiral… How do you feel?” you cock your head to the side as you ask, a gesture that could almost be considered innocent if he didn’t know that you were anything but.

“I feel relatively unchanged” it’s not a lie, but it’s not the entire truth. He feels an odd sensation simmering in his pelvis mingling with his own arousal, his nipples are hard and feel more sensitive than normal, but nothing vastly out of the ordinary.

The melodic sound of your laughter makes his arousal twitch again.

You stand above him and run a finger up the length of your body towards your breast and Thrawn swears he can feel the ghost of your touch on his own body. You tweak your own nipple and he gasps, the sensation spreading throughout his nerves and sending a jolt of pleasure down to his pulsing cock.

Your laughter once again rings throughout the room at the sight of his reaction and you gracefully move onto the bed, sitting just next to his head, running your fingers through his hair. “Are you prepared for a lesson in perspective Grand Admiral? Are you prepared to learn how effectual of a lover you are?”

Thrawn knows that no matter his answer, he is about to find out.

You lean down and kiss along his jaw and neck again, giving soft nips and bites to the skin as your fingers run along his abdominal muscles, your nails dragging along the hard flesh causing goosebumps to prickle along his skin.

“What to show you first… perhaps your fingers… your cock…? No, I believe I wish you to experience your silver tongue first” you muse, more to yourself than him as Thrawn attempts to quell the rising wave of desire in his body.

Thrawn as had many encounters, with many men, women and everything that lays between or outside the binary. But for the first time, he considers that he may in fact, be out of his depth as you move over him, your plush thighs caging his face as your soaked folds hover just above his face. As his red eyes gaze up at your arousal, he’s determined to see this through, the grand admiral is nothing if not capable of adapting after all.

You lower yourself down onto his waiting mouth, his tongue lathing over your clit and he feels it, the white hot pleasure that causes him to groan into your cunt, his hands reach up to grip your thighs, his fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises.

Its nothing like he’s ever experienced. He knows, physiologically speaking of course, that females tend to have more nerve endings down there, but he never expected anything to feel quite so euphoric as your magicks transmit the sensation of your pleasure to him. He eats you like a man starved, his lips and tongue working with a fervour even he didn’t know he was capable of as his untouched cock strains and twitches with the foreign feeling.

He’s moaning, groaning, he’s never usually this vocal, but each moan sends vibrations through your body to your core and in turn, sends those same feelings straight to his length. He feels the coil tighten, the molten hot pleasure in your belly about to burst and he knows that he will fall along with you, that if the band snaps and you climax, he won’t be able to withstand the sensations that will go along with it.

He doesn’t stop however, the desire to finish you and potentially himself is too strong. He stops breathing as his mouth and tongue bring you over the edge, he feels the wave as it crashes over you and him, he feels himself reach the peak along with you and lets out a sinfully loud moan that he would almost be embarrassed about if it didn’t feel so euphoric.

But just as he’s sure that he is about to spill ropes of his seed all over his belly, he feels a pressure at the base of his cock. He looks up at you from between your legs as you sit on his face as if you were some ancient queen and he was your throne, your hair mussed, your body slick with sweat and another one of those smiles gracing your mouth as you stare back down at him.

He knows he looks desperate. He knows that if his lips weren’t still occupied with your folds that he would be demanding, begging you to let him cum, to relieve the pressure and grant him release.

It’s never that simple with you though, is it?

You climb off his face, your legs shaking only slightly as you move around the bed, settling yourself down on his thighs. Thrawn feels the residual effects of your orgasm wash over him, the lingering pleasure subsiding as you stare down at him, your eyes fixed on his throbbing erection, the copious amounts of precum that he’s been leaking all over himself since the moment you sat on his face.

He wants to say something, anything, to attempt to regain some control, but he knows the moment he opens his mouth he’ll dissolve into a mess of begging and grovelling. He remains silent as he watches you, licking his lips to taste the last remainder of your release, feeling a pulse of arousal flow through him from your shared connection as he does.

“How do you feel now Grand Admiral?” your voice is steady; he wonders how anyone can remain so composed after feeling that amount of pleasure.

“I am now feeling relatively… affected” his voice is shaky, husky, a ghost of the commanding tenor he usually employs. You take him in your hand, your touch on his cock causing the both of you to let out a satisfied moan that mingles in the cold air of his quarters.

You position yourself above him, the blunt head of his length nudging your entrance and his mouth goes dry. Despite having been penetrated in the past he knows that this is going to be a vastly different experience. He’s proven correct when you sink down onto him, the both of you crying out in pleasure as you slowly lower yourself onto him.

It’s pleasure beyond anything he has ever experienced. The feeling of your warm, wet walls surrounding him, combined with the phantom feeling of being so full would be enough to send him over the edge into oblivion if it weren’t for that intangible pressure at the base of his cock stifling his release.

It’s when you begin moving that he feels as if he is about to white out from pleasure. The sound of skin on skin and your combined moans fills the room as you ride him. Thrawn can do nothing but grasp the sheets as your body moves up and down on top of him, as he feels the pressure begin to build from your connection again. He grits his teeth, letting out an almost animalistic growl as he feels your muscles tighten around him, his hips moving on their own accord pounding into you in sync with your own movements as you cry out his name.

Not his title, his name.

The phantom pressure releases from the base of his cock and he cums. Moaning and groaning as he experiences the most powerful orgasm of his life, shooting rope after rope of hot cum into your cunt, filling it so completely that it spills out of you, down his shaft, running over his balls and spills onto his sheets.

He must have blacked out for a second because when he opens his eyes you are already standing up on unstable legs, his seed running down your thighs and the whispy sensations appear to have left him.

Sitting up in bed, he fights a bout of dizziness as he looks over towards you, his breathing still ragged as he takes in your form, moving around his quarters as if you command his ship and not him.

“How do you feel Grand Admiral?” your voice is softer now tinged with a small amount of concern as your gaze travels over him, inspecting him.

“Satisfied” is all he says as you walk back over towards the bed and snuggle next to him, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

Yes the Grand Admiral is still not certain about how this engagement began, but he is very happy with how it ended.

@ele-millennial-weirdo @thrawnspetgoose @69fandom-fanatic69 @al-astakbar @blackmonitor @vibratingbonesbis @khapikat222 @novemberblueskyink

#thrawn smut #thrawn x reader #admiral thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn x reader #thrawnposting #grand admiral thrawn smut #mitth'raw'nuruodo #mitth'raw'nuruodo smut #admiral thrawn smut #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #admiral thrawn

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

okay. here's the scene. sicely is forced along at a fancy party bc THRAWN is forced along at a fancy party for high command and political leaders in the outer rim. pryce got her own ticket bc shes the governor of lothal and her plus one is Publicity Boytoy #4, a human man whose name she will forget by the end of the evening but it is still likely enough that he'll annoy her to a high enough degree for her to want to have sex with him (i do not believe pryce is capable of non-caliginous attraction). even if she could she wouldn't want to go alongside thrawn again because his capability to infuriate and exhaust her beggars belief. and thrawn hates her with an icy seething passion. and due to the aforementioned caliginous-exclusive romance one might think this would mean pryce would be attracted to thrawn and you would be right. but it's really not worth pursuing that at all, because thrawn has the romantic capacity of one of those self-guided museum tour casettes with the anodyne voices, or maybe a picture on r/malelivingspaces where a bunch of Ayn Rand books are displayed prominently on a shelf in a clearly-inherited house. and also he annoys her with his constant questions and generally helpless demeanor in any context where he does not have complete control and authority. so going with her is out. and eli cant come because he's off in the unknown regions listening to a holodrama in Cheunh and getting happy he understands 85% of it (he is missing a decent amount of cultural context due to grammatical cases and familial-standing based honorifics and sentence structure). faro has her own ticket too because her uncle is a patron and benefactor for many Outer Rim charities and gentlemen's clubs, and he dotes on her. so she cant be thrawns plus one nor can he be hers because she's going to spend the entire time at this thinly-veiled diplomatic insider trading scam of an event having her first normal conversation in a year with family, and if thrawn goes with her he will be introduced to that family (nightmare scenario. never again). so thrawns option is his only other friend, a 16 year old he more or less kidnapped and has entered an uneasy truce with. is this pathetic? profoundly. the depths of thrawn's patheticness and overall dysfunction is some kind of ocean trench or hole in which i seem to be the only bastard blazing bravely downward.

SICELY: I don't want to go. THRAWN: It is not optional. SICELY: Why the hell not? THRAWN: You are a cultural attaché and a diplomatic representative of your people. There will be many ambassadors there. It is a learning experience. SICELY: Can you put it in writing that I hate thiS, I hate partieS, I will go kicking and Screaming, I hate you, and if you make me wear a Stupid fancy outfit I will Screech like a branded banSheeSteed?

Thrawn wordlessly opens up his datapad, types it all out, attributes the quote to Sicely, and turns it around to show them.

SICELY: Thank you. 

Sicely agrees to go to the party and even gets convinced to put on a nice outfit (given as they dislike being unable to wear anything than an officer's uniform, Faro frames it as a break from monotony and Sicely says it must be difficult being right all the time. Faro concurs). Thrawn, being only able to analyze fashion within the context of it being an artistic statement, is the kind of guy to wear white to a wedding. It takes the combined effort of nearly every woman in his bridge crew (which is most of them, Thrawn hates working with men) to convince him to not just wear his standard uniform and gives him a catalogue full of options.

Anyways. The commute to the party is mostly painless after this point and the party itself is mostly the same as usual, Sicely haunting the air by Thrawn's elbow like some sort of wraith comprised entirely out of teenage spite, Thrawn trying to hard to remember the difference between his polite eye contact face and menacing inquisitive eye contact face that he keeps missing what people say to him. there's music playing. ronan is there, being insufferable. tarkin is there, being insufferable and terrifying. if krennic is also here there will inevitably be A Scene. eventually sicely gets bored of trying to subtly help Thrawn save face when talking to people (he just called a woman's outfit "appropriate for the ocassion" and even Sicely is aware that that's ruder than when they said she looks draped in tinsel) so they wander off, like a husky whose owner dropped the leash, or a balloon halfway filled with helium and halfway filled with a suicide's ghost. everyone at this party looks garish and varying degrees of miserable to talk to, which does in part remind sicely of home, but the kind of diplomatic misery present here is an altogether different breed one could expect from highblooded children, and most of the parties sicely went to as a kid were shindigs, hootenannies, barn-burners, and halloween parties where everyone drank age-appropriate drinks which were not illegal. so one can imagine they feel a bit lonely.

and then finally they hear it: one adolescent voice ringing out above the rest. there is one other teenager at this party. sicely makes a beeline for it. it's a brown-haired human girl dressed in all white, and shes chewing out some senator with as much vitriol as can be acceptable in such a setting as this. this rather quickly scares off said senator, and sicely (holding their mocktail) steps in before someone else can command her attention. the first thing she sees is, of course, their stupid cactus antlers. the second thing she sees is the chimaera insignia on their stupid suit.

SICELY: Um. Hi-- LEIA: You're a bit young to be a Navyman terrorizing the Outer Rim, aren't you? LEIA: Or are you simply a fan of the works of the Seventh Fleet? LEIA: I don't know how you people find the gall to come here and rub elbows with senators and charity organizers outright working to undo the very damage of the atrocities you and the rest of the Navy cause.

Sicely can't help it. They grin.

LEIA: You ought to be ashamed of yourself if you think this is funny. LEIA: Surely your people are among the ones being subjugated by Tarkin's great work? SICELY: Oh, nah-- my people are off Subjugglating elSewhere. LEIA: Oh! Lovely to know there's scum anywhere you go in the galaxy. SICELY: Can you yell at me some more?

It's only when they find out that she's a princess that Sicely realizes they have one goal in life: become dashing butch knight. pull Princess Leia.

#cecil drawls #long post #YOU SEE MY VISION #SICELY VC IM SCRUFFY IM ROGUEISH IM HANDSOME DO YOU LIKE GIRLS #sicely nohell

[vibratingskull]

"Hai, tis me again 🫡 Putting in a Thrawn x Ar'alani smut request! Thrawn returns to the Ascendancy for reals this time. When Thrawn arrives, things are way too hectic for him to find some genuine alone time with Ar'alani. The pair have some serious sexual tension that comes out when they find themselves alone in an elevator together. They're fighting for dominance over one another - sloppy and messy "I miss u" sex. Ar'alani is frustrated and angry with Thrawn, Thrawn misses Ar'alani ALOT." - @thrawnalani

First time i write for a ship. It was rather difficult but pretty fun 😊

Thrawn x Ar'alani

Tag: smut, cunni, p in v

Thrawn steps into the elevator and breathes deeply once the doors close. The Ascendancy didn't change, it worsened even. Too much political agitation, too little factual military responses. He had to meet with numerous aristocras and syndics and respond to numerous nonsensical questions, apparently they are worried about the political repercussions of his return. Apparently the Mitth Patriarch was furious when he appeared with his fleet at the Ascendancy's door. It's Roscu who found him; she welcomed him back as he expected with disdain and defiance. Some things did not change and he finds it comforting. 

He loosens up his collar, those questions really took a toll on him, he has the head ready to burst. If only they could give him just 5 minutes of peace, 5 minutes alone…

He didn't stop for a second after he arrived. He's getting old, he chuckles, his patience is getting slimmer. He stretches his neck and shoulders as he's alone in this elevator. 

Where is she now ? 

Surely on patrol somewhere… Away from him. 

He sighs, closing his eyes. 

He would have loved to see a glimpse of her face, a smile in his direction, the hand of a friend extended to him.

That would suffice for his happiness. 

Just a touch. His finger grazing her hand. That would surely suffice. 

The elevator stops to welcome someone else, he opens his eyes and he straightens his stature. He takes a step on the side to let them enter. 

The doors open. 

And the air is punched out of his lungs. 

Her eyes widen for a demi second before the mask of imperturbability is back on both of their faces. 

It is her. 

In all her glory.

She comes and places herself next to him, without a single glance.

- Grand Admiral Thrawn, she politely salutes with distance in the tone.

- Admiral Ar’alani, he tilts his head.

He remains calm, but inside his heart is racing.

- Not anymore, I am now a Fleet Admiral. I took after Supreme General Ba'kif work.

- I have not been made aware of that. My congratulations.

She tuts without responding. The elevator resumes its ascension in the stone building. 

They remain silent, without exchanging glances, but her scent comes and invades his nose, he inhales the fragrance deeply, welcoming it far into his lungs, a mix of honey, wild flowers and chemicals. It makes his mouth water. He licks his teeth to gather self control. He does not turn his head to her, preferring to admire her through the mirror in his peripheral vision. She's getting older too, little wrinkles come adorn her eyes and the corner of her mouth, gray and white strands of hair at her temples. She’s never been more beautiful to him.

-You collar is loose, she says out of the blue without looking at him.

- Yes, I needed to be a bit less constricted for five little minutes.

-It’s unprofessional, remedy it now, she orders.

-Yes, Fleet Admiral.

He ties his collar again. He do no let it appears on his face but he’s smiling internally, even though he regrets her cold tone he always admired her way of giving order, even to him. Her imposing presence, her hard stare...What a women.

-You’ve created a certain commotion by coming back, she finally lets out, her head fixed straight on the door.

- It appears so, even though I do not understand the political ramification of my return.

His breath shortens as his heart race quickens. It feels like he’s going crazy. After so long, she gave him the cold shoulder and deprives him of her beautiful gaze. This is unfair! He abandoned everything for her and the Ascendancy, he left everything behind to come back stronger than ever to bring help to his people. And she won’t even grace him with a smile? Might as well stab him in the heart, it would be less painful.

She lets out a snarky snarl.

- Of course you do not. You didn’t back then and you won’t now.

- Maybe you could teach me? He tries an approach turning his head to her to be welcomed by her unmoving profile. He's never been too good at this game but it won’t prevent him from trying. For her he would try anything. He keeps an eye on the elevator’s indicator, soon they would reach the floor and be separated again… In those conditions? Without a smile ? Without staring longingly in her gorgeous eyes? Without grazing her hand once ? 

He cannot let that happen. He spent all those years thinking about her, the only thing keeping him sane in this Empire of vipers.

- Right now? We do not have the time. And I doubt to be able to teach anything to an old blinkered person like you.

Then…

Something switches in his head.

He silently and oh so calmly turns towards the control panel, opens it, and very simply tears the wires. The elevator stops instantly in a jolt, plunged into darkness, only a small emergency light bulb lightning crudely the metal box.

-Grand Admiral Thrawn! She shouts indignant, finally looking at him.

He fully turns towards her.

-Now listen, Fleet Admiral, I had some very rough years and a notably rough day. I am in no mood to take this unfair beating: I have been sent to find allies for the Ascendancy, and came back with a full fleet. I succeeded in my mission. Now I do not want the honor of the victor nor any medals. The only thing I ask for is the warmth of a friend, a welcoming smile or friendly salutations, of which I have received none and especially coming from you this is particularly cruel. Now we can remedy it or never speak again.

He can’t believe what he just said, it was totally unprompted and involuntary. He would never cut their bound and renounce her friendship, but something in her demeanor made him snap. 

They look into each other's eyes in silence for a whole minute when she finally raises an eyebrow, looking at him like a curious insect. He fully braces for the storm coming, she has every right to be beside herself.

- You’ve changed, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. You used to have more patience, she states calmly.

-It has been ten years, Ar’alani. People change, I am not immune to it.

She holds his gaze before finally lowering her eyes and sighs.

-You’re right, it’s been ten years… Ten years of tumult, ten years of uncertainty, ten years of hope of you coming back against all odds. Ten years without any news, any signs of life…

He presses his lips in a thin line, feeling a bit gauche now.

- And I am truly sorry for that, he assures, it was due to parameters out of my control.

 -I know… 

Her voice is so weary suddenly, like years of stress coming crushing down upon her suddenly. 

- But you don’t know what I feared happened to you…

He gently takes her hands and squeezes them.

- But I am here now, I have returned.

- Things have changed. The Ascendancy is in great peril, eating itself from within. You might have returned home to lose it definitively.

- This defeatism is not like you.

She giggles tiredly.

- Maybe I’ve changed too.

He holds her face, forcing her to look at him.

- Whatever might happen, we will face it together.

And without thinking of consequences, he puts his lips against hers delicately, annihilating more than thirty years of friendship in one simple gesture…  It is so soft, softer than what he ever imagined with a sugary taste. She doesn’t respond, neither inviting him or pushing him back. He slowly parts, searching her gaze, holding his breath, waiting to discover if he just made the biggest error of his life…

She gasps lightly, and seizes his head with force, pressing their mouth together. His heart skips a beat, but he welcomes it. He deepens the kiss, caressing the back of her head, the low of her back, pressing their body together like they could fuse as one. He pushes her against the wall, squeezing her harder in his arms while making out. She’s disheveling him, clawing his back through the fabric, pushing her tongue in his mouth, hugging his tongue, moaning in the kiss.

Oh this is such sweet music to his ears, angels could not sing softer.

Finally…

A hunger of thirty years will be satiated tonight.

And he’s ravenous.

She looks as starving as him, which makes his heart fluster. It is so satisfying to know you please the other person as much as she pleases you. He tastes blood and realizes she’s biting his lower lips. He growls in response. 

She moves away, tearing him apart, but it is to open his tidy uniform. She hurries in her movement, a bit clumsily with such haste. He resists the temptation to just tear the fabric of both of their uniforms and instead choose to help her. He quickly ends up in his black tank top that he discards as quickly. She also opens her jacket while he kneels down to open her white pants, he pulls them down with her undergarment and caresses his way up her legs. He grazes her inner thighs and looks up at her, panting and with messy hair, he sees her chest moving up and down as she breathes. Without breaking eye contact he approaches his head to her vulva and gives a long, wet lick at her slit. She closes her shiny eyes and throws her head backward, so he does it again, teasing her entrance, slips up his tongue between her pussylips, his nose buried in her pubes. He inhales the musk deeply. He laps at her cunt with the flat of the tongue, sucking and flicking his tongue at her clit, he does it conscientiously, thoroughly, like his savoring a rare dish. She gasps and whines, holding his head, pressing it further against her wet, slick sex. He thought he could die happy suffocated between her legs. He tonguefucks her until a tremor shakes her and she comes in his mouth with a moan. He drinks it all like a thirsty man. He licks his lips with a satisfied grin, looking at her purple and panting face, a drop of sweat at her temple. He kisses her public mount and rises on his feet, unbuckling his pants. She slips her hand in his boxer to feel and stroke his length, appreciating the circumference of his girth. He sighs with pleasure at the delicious sensation, he kisses her cheeks and she bites his ear.

-Hurry, she breathes.

He pulls down his boxer, freeing his hardening dick, he gives it a few rough strokes and presses the tip at her cunt, coating it as he trails her pussylips, nudging her hole with his tip. She bites her lower lips, her hands at the back of his neck. He kisses the tip of her nose and aligns himself with her, he slowly enters her, moaning as her tightness strangles his veiny shaft, he pushes and buries himself to the hilt. She jumps and circles his waist with her legs as he carries her his hand under her thighs. Taking support on the wall he starts rutting inside her, thrusting his hips sloppily, they mewl in unisson, making out again. He feels his cock get swallowed by her wet warmth, she grips him as he stuffs her full and she’s not embarrassed to let her pleasure be known by the most obscene noises. It only fires him up more, giving him even more energy and vigor. He rolls his hips languorously, as she bounces on his cock, he languidly plunges into her soft flesh, feeling her spasms and contracts around his length.

-I missed you, she mewls

It makes his heart beat faster and heat up his cheek even more.

-Me too, my love, me too.

They kiss languorously, until his thrust becomes erratic. He’s close, he knows it.

-Stay with me, she grunts.

- I will.

He feels all his lower body tensing up, but when he tries to remove himself she locks him between her legs until he finishes inside her. His orgasm his mind shattering, pushing air out his lungs. She clenches around his cock when she cums and he put her down, legs trembling, short breath and glossy eyes. He rests his forehead against hers, catching his breath, he brushes her hair out of her face. She holds his hand and rests her cheek in it. They remain silent, smiling, grazing their nose tips, savoring this quiet moment before getting back to real life.

-We must get back, she sighs

-I know, but he doesn’t stop pampering kisses on her face.

-Thrawn, I’m serious. We got work to do.

-I know… This time he’s the one sighing

She smiles contritely and pecks his lips.

-Come to my place tonight? I will let the door open for you.

-I am afraid I will finish late, he reluctantly admits.

-It is okay. I waited for you for ten years, I can wait a little longer…

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar

@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #admiral ar'alani #ar'alani #thrawn smut #fanfic #vibratingskull

[thrawnspetgoose]

How it ended:Epilogue. ThrantoxF!reader

Kinktober contribution.

Warnings: The completion to the thranto x reader series with some serious smut. There should be nothing said. Bandage guy on girl. Threesome anal oral teasing.

As always read at your own risk and enjoy.

It had been adventurous when you blue husband returned to the Ascendancy. And even more so when he declared he was going to marry you and Eli.

When conflict ended and everything was said and done, the three of you had settled down on a back water world in a decent house to raise a family.

Eli still worked for the CDF on his Skywalker data analysis while playing the homemaker to you and Thrawn, who were the breadwinners. Thrawn to still did the odd commission but was becoming a renowned art dealer, with your art being his main product.

Your family was big. Biologically you had 9 children on top of a handful of Skywalker who wanted to stay with Eli. Un'nee being one.

It was your anniversary, and Thrawn had booked a sex dungeon resort. Yes. A sex dungeon. An exotic resort with the purpose of being a place for couples to explore kinks.

It's been glorious, no kids, having left a begrudging Ar'alani and company to babysit, which meant the sex wasn't hurried.

Currently, Thrawn had tied you to a chair and was heartedly kissing your cowboy. Eli looked glorious his tan skin flushed, gorgeous dick standing at attention with a cockring at his base.

You whimpered at the sight straining wanting in on the action, only to jolt and whine into the gag as Thrawn pressed the remote springing to life the vibrator in your dripping cunt.

The blue bastard smirked at you, pulling away from Eli, who whimpered as he allowed Thrawn to gently pushing the younger man to his knees.

Eli eagerly engulfed the beautiful blue cock in his mouth which also had a cockring at its base. As the warmth of your cowboy's mouth took in your blueberry's cock the vibrator in your cunt stopped.

You whine only to whimper loudly as Thrawn reaches over, retrieving the device with gorgeous dexterous fingers and he lefts the vibrator to his lips. Tasting you.

"Mm. Exquisite as always" He pulls Eli off him who gasps and happily sucks the vibrator when it is offered. He moans as he tastes you and Thrawn looks very delighted watching him.

Eli's hands are tied behind his back but he looks happy to let Thrawn lead this room, one he had requested and wanted it to be the last room of the weekend.

Thrawn presses a kiss to Elis forehead before guiding him to kneel on the bed across from the table you're on.

"Keep it there." Thrawn instructs pressing the vibrator between Elis lips once more as glowing eyes turn to you roving your form.

Like a predator, Thrawn walks towards you, stroking his beautiful length as his eyes ravage your naked restrained form. He reaches out and runs cool blue fingers up your belly, stroking the stretchmarks left from 9 children. All beautiful like their fathers. But Eli claims that he sees you in all of them. Thrawn does to, and is mostly the reason you have that many. The man just loves you being pregnant and the knowledge that he and Eli did that arouses him.

He leans down, kissing you sloppily, not caring for grace, wanting you to taste yourself and Eli on his lips.

Eli moans as he watches you both eyes darkened with lust and desire for the two people he adores most.

The hand not holding the controller for the vibrator reaches down, and expert fingers slide through your folds and circle your clit barely pushing in.

You whimper, hips pushing up to meet those glorious fingers. Thrawn growls in warning delivering a quick slap to your pussy. It stings and burns pleasantly.

You moan loudly now that you are free from you gag and Thrawn smiles pleased. He deftly undoes the binds holding you to the table. "Be a good girl and remove my cockring."

You do as instructed watching as he exhales heavily before strong blue arms lift you up bringing your legs to rest around his hips as he lines up with your pussy before dropping you with practiced ease.

Your back arches as you hiss with pleasure. Thrawn moves still standing, giving Eli a good view of the show about to begin.

Slowly. Agonizingly slowly Thrawn begins to bounce you on his cocktail as you choke back sobs of pleasure clinging to his shoulders.

Eli settles back watching, sucking the toy still between his lips as Thrawn increases the speed with which he is fucking into you, roughly bouncing you on his glorious blue cock.

Suddenly, you're slammed onto the bed beside your human husband, your back arching as you gasp and whimper, insuprise from this show of surprising strength.

Thrawn takes a moment, wrapping an arm under your hips to tilt them at an angle, letting him hit that spot that has you keening.

You openly whimper and wreath in the Chiss' grasp as Eli watches hips jolting as he watches his husband and wife fuck like lothcats beside him.

Reaching out a hand to touch Eli the man shudders when he feels your hand on his need seemingly forgotten length. Eli thrusts into you hand with abandon moaning around the vibrator as he chases relief.

Thrawn drops the remote beside you, his hand joining yours on Eli's dick.

You feel it it as a sudden crescendo stiffening and shaking as you orgasm around Thrawns cock. The man stiffens as this pulls his from him spilling inside you. He gives you a quick kiss remaining inside and leans over, undoing the cockring on Eli's dick. He dips down and takes the dick of his husband into his mouth sucking noisily teasing the younger man's balls.

Eli throws his head back moans as he finally gets the relief of Cumming. Thrawn collects all the spill before returning to your lips and delivers Eli's salty goodness silently, ordering you to swallow it. You do so eagerly before finally relaxing from orgasmic bliss as both men move to snuggle beside you, holding each other tight.

Taglist: @thrawns-babygirl @al-astakbar @khapikat222

"Thank you, my loves," You whisper, drifting in the haze of sleepiness that comes from rough play.

Eli smiles, kissing your temple, and Thrawn kisses your hairline, placing a large blue hand on your belly. "And we you." He replies in that gorgeous voice tired.

You smile. Yes the three of you were no longer young, but times like these are truly worth cherishing.

A couple of months later and from the ensure you share with your husband's, "FOR MAKERS SAKE THRAWN!!!"

Eli doesn't even need to ask and gives the Chiss who looks far to pleased with himself a look. "You are in for it."

A/N: thank you for reading. I hope you all liked this. I have some more Chiss content as well as some other stuff planned for kinktober plz enjoy and keep an eye out. Happy Kinktober

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #eli vanto x reader #thranto #thrawn #kinktober #thranto x reader #thrawn x reader x eli vanto #thrawn x eli vanto

[kalevalakryze]

Engine Room

Pairing: Sabine Wren/Shin Hati Characters: Sabine Wren/Shin Hati Warnings: Smut, (nsfw tags under cut) Fellas Is It Gay To Hunt Down The Woman You Want To Rail (You)? She/They Shin Hati, Lesbian Shin Hati, Lesbian Sabine Wren, Force Sensitive Sabine Wren Notes: I got stuck for four hours on the middle two paragraphs, I don’t know why this was so hard. Anyways, I’ve written too much soft and had to get back to the smut, because; I am gay. Also, I decided Shin Hati gets to speak Cheunh, Thrawn taught her over space skype or smth idc, it’s a thing for right now, Word Count: 1,616 AO3 Link: Here!

NSFW Tags: Oral Sex, Fingering, Face-Sitting, Light Choking, Minor Orgasm Denial, Does It Count As ‘Public Sex’ If They’re In A Private Ship And People Don’t Understand Feral Shin Owns The Airspace?, Shin Lives For The Ways Sabine Makes Her Feel On And Off The Battlefield.

Both of Sabine’s hands were fisted into Shin’s hair, nails digging into her scalp as her back arched up and off the cot. “Gedet’ye!” The Mandalorian pleaded in a cry, hips twisting to chase the wicked tongue torturing her clit. Two fingers worked inside her, pulling her closer each time the other woman’s fingers pushed further and curled, tickling that achingly sore spot at the core of her being. “Kurs’kaded, gedet’ye,” The Mandalorian’s voice was low and breathy, gasped into the air of the tight compartment aboard the small fighter.

“Meh gar gevar, ni ven' kyr gar,” Sabine cried upon deaf ears as the tongue and fingers working her over slowed.

The ache in her chest was strong enough to transcend lifetimes as the blonde lifted their head from between her legs. Sabine’s release shined on their chin in the low light, through lidded eyes, she caught them licking their lips, wiping the rest off on the back of their free hand.

“Shin Ha-‘ Her needy reprimand was vanquished to ash when their shifted their weight, before she found her hips pulled flush against their own, her legs wrapping around their waist, trapping their hand at what had to be an uncomfortable angle between them. “Ti-“ Her voice trailed off before her lips were taken prisoner by the demanding softness and the taste of herself on their lips. Her hands moved from the mop of tangled hair to cup the sides of their face, pulling them impossibly closer, even as soft gasps with each rock of their lips had her lips parting and threatening to turn her head back to the ceiling to let the makers know just how she felt about the pressure rebuilding between her legs.

Their lips did not stay meshed together long before teeth were biting at her bottom lip, unsatisfied until a canine managed to snag a small slit across Sabine’s lip and she could taste blood on the tip of her tongue.

The supports to the small cot creaked and groaned as Shin’s hips rocked into her, driving their fingers deeper into Sabine as their free hand wrapped around the base of her throat. A low whine sounded deep in her chest as pressure was applied. “Ch'ah csarcican't ch'atvun'bovah vah ch'at csoen'ehah,” The language was as lost to Sabine as Mando’a was to Shin.

Shin’s breath ran ragged against Sabine’s strangled gasps for air around the hand pressing down on her throat. Their lips trailed in a path of beautiful pleasure and pain down to her chest. “Kurs’kaded!” Sabine cried out when their hot tongue pressed against a nipple, swirling around to catch on the small metal balls on either end of her piercings.

When their hand left her throat and she could take in gasping deep breaths, pale skin blooming in a perfect rendition of her handprint, nails scratched a mirrored path to pinch at her other nipple, experimentally and surprisingly carefully maneuvering the piercings until the combination of pleasure pain stimulation at her chest, the aching quivering of worn out muscles with each thrust of Shin’s hips and the drive of her fingers against her most delicious spot, and the heel of their hand catered perfectly to allow her to grind up into each thrust had the Mandalorian coming with a shout.

Her muscles shook and spasmed, her breathing came hot and heavy, the lewd noises of Shin’s fingers pumping in and out of her worked well with the creaking supports of the cot. It was like an out of body experience, staring down at Shin’s lips wrapped around her nipple, the flash of silver poking between their mouth as a pretty tongue changed direction. The next, she felt as if she were floating, staring down at Shin.

Sabine saw more than felt when the Mercenary pulled out of her and parted their lips just enough, when her nipple was reluctantly released so hot breaths could be spread across her chest. The hand that had been trapped between them was placed against Sabine’s abdomen for support before the other hand abandoned the Mandalorian’s chest to search for pleasure at the apex of her own thighs.

When Sabine found her body once more, Shin was a shaking mess against her, forehead pressed into the space between her breasts, the hand that had been on her abdomen was now fisted up in the bare thread sheets, their hips were practically humping into their hand, enough space between them that when Sabine managed to look down, she caught the sight of long fingers buried past trimmed dark curls and into her glistening folds.

Concentration and frustration met Shin’s hurried actions; whimpered moans turned to quiet growls as she chased a high that was fluttering away. “Fuck, Shin,” Sabine grumbled, voice low in her throat as her legs released the strong hips locked between them. “Just, come here, please,”

Her hand reached back for Shin’s hair, if only to guide the other apprentice’s attention. Nose crinkled cutely in her frustration, Shin obeyed easily, following as Sabine’s hand moved from her hair to her chin, guiding her until the merc had to clamber up the bed, there was a brief moment of uncertainty in their eyes as Sabine was finally able to reach and guide the woman’s hips. “If this is how I get to go, my ancestors will call me a god,” Sabine grumbled as she guided their knees to either side of her head, lips pressing against the soft skin of sweaty thighs.

“What a way to go, then,” Shin commented with bated breath. Sabine’s tongue pushed into paradise like no other, an ecstasy she could only find with Shin on her tongue. The blonde’s forehead dropped with a heavy thud against the wall, their back was arched down so her head didn’t smack against the ceiling of the cramped room.

It had been hot in the room before, nestled up near the engines, though with Shin’s cunt in her face and thighs squeezing either side of her heat, the temperature neared unbearable. Though, for a woman who’d dressed in layers of clothing and then piled armor on overtop, it was nothing in comparison to patrolling a desert in the afternoon.

Shin’s hips ground against her face, the blonde’s hand reaching to card through dark purple hair while the other kept herself upright against the wall. Sabine’s hands pressed against their thighs, guiding each roll of their hips against the flat of her tongue.

Each flutter of their walls on her tongue was divine, amber eyes shutting to fully immerse herself in the sweet taste, nose brushing against their clit as oxygen became harder to come by.

Her tongue dipped into their entrance as far as she could reach, groaning when her kurs’kaded ground down against her with a renewed fervor.

Darkness pulled at her vision as Shin came, a powerful wave that she could feel in the very core of her being, or, as she was coming to understand ‘An Inappropriate Use Of The Force That Breathed Life Into Her Veins’. The thighs around her ears muffled the cry from the woman above her, though she could make out the foreign cry of something she couldn’t hope to understand echoing off the walls of the small room.

Her affections only lasted as long as the mercenary could take it, when Shin raised her hips, she did not force her to stay down. Settling back against her chest, their fingers carding through her hair to ease the irritation from her pulling and scratching. “Me’suum’ika,” The Mando’a was foreign on Shin’s tongue, pulling a laugh from the overheated Mandalorian below her.

A faux pout crossed the blonde’s lips as she ungracefully pulled herself off of Sabine’s torso, steadying themselves on the edge of the cot on warbling legs. “What?” Sabine asked with a laugh, raising her hands to cover her face with the pillow Shin had picked up from the floor to smack her with.

“I’m telling Baylan that you’re being rude,” Sabine finally sat up, bare legs dangling off the side of the cot. She made grabby hands towards the blonde until they’d begrudgingly stepped between her legs, allowing her to rest her face against her breast. “Okay, maybe not, but you are like, really hot,”

“You have said this already, many times in the past,”

Sabine gently shoved shin away from her. “No, I mean, it’s hot as balls in here, but...” A smirk pulled at her lips, Shin waited distrustfully for her lips to open once more. “I’d fuck you even on Mustafar,”

Reaching to press on Sabine’s forehead, Shin shoved the woman back onto the cot. “You are a riot, moon, and very lucky it is too warm to put a lightsaber in your stomach.”

“So… if it’s so warm, can I convince you not to put your clothes back on?”

“No,” Shin was already doing the clips to their bra and starting the process of winding her robes and armor back over her body. “But nobody says that you do not have to… perhaps the co-pilots seat can hold your items, and I can hold you?” She did not wait for Sabine’s answer as she clipped her shin guards in place, slipping out of the small closet while tugging her cloak over her shoulders.

If the New Republic patrol that passed them jumping out of hyperspace caught sight of Commander Wren’s bare back tucked against an unknown blonde, they were smart enough not to hail the starship, or stick around for much longer to see anything other than the way the Rebellion commander’s hips rock once before they shot to their next grid point in their patrol.

Translations: Cheunh: “Ch'ah csarcican't ch'atvun'bovah vah ch'at csoen'ehah,” - I will bring you to ruin Mando’a: “Gedet’ye” – Please “Meh gar gevar, ni ven' kyr gar,” – If you stop, I will end you, “Kurs’kaded” – Wolf “Me’suum’ika” - Moon

#minors dni #wolfwren #ahsoka spoilers #ahsoka #wrenwolf #shin hati x sabine wren #shin x sabine #shin hati #sabine wren #mando'a #Shin Hati is a little shit #Sabine Wren Is A Little Shit #The Adrenaline From Sex #Or #The Adrenaline From Battle #Shin Cannot Decide Which Is Better #lesbians #fic writing #star wars #star wars fic

[roguemonsterfucker]

I've never seen a Star Wars thing in my life, but as someone in the other blue guy fandom (Avatar) you're doing good work. That dick sounds amazing, and I'm probably gonna read it now despite knowing nothing about SW lol.

Cause seriously, would it kill someone to write a story where a Na'vi has something other than a basic human penis???

I'm hoping my 131k word kinky Thrawn fanfic will be pretty readable even to folks who don't have much context for Star Wars.

I will warn you, however, there aren't a lot of scenes where Thrawn uses his alien cock because most of the kinky sex scenes actually involve minimal contact, but I think the few times he does make up for it lol.

I don't know much about the Na'vi or the fandom but I sympathize with you greatly. When I first got into Thrawn, I asked folks what their headcanons were for his genitals and everyone was just like "human but blue" which is so fucking boring. Luckily I've found some very nice fanfics ranging from ridged cocks like what I've gone with to tentacles and it's very exciting. 😳

#fifty shades of blue

[undulinoted]

What are your Star Wars rare pairs?? (Very curious!!)

Hi anon, hope you're well!! This is a good question bc the more I thought about it the more I was like... ARE these rare?! lmao, I'm sure there are fans with much rarer pairs out there than these but my favourite rare pairs atm are:

- Darthfett (Vader/Boba)

- Satidala (Satine/Padmé)

- Windwalker (Mace/Anakin)

- Palpakin (Palpatine/Anakin) - here's the part where you run away screaming from my blog lmaooooo

- Droidcaptain (K-2SO/Cassian)

- Melshian (Melshi/Cassian)

also special shoutout to my fav Star Wars pair ever, ✨Thranto ✨, but I felt it wasn't quite rare enough to include, even though Eli is a novel character and not gonna be as recognisable to some fans, it's still Thrawn's most popular ship I'm pretty sure, so :') and i also rlly love Kalluzeb 🥺

I started writing some reasons for why I enjoy these pairs below but only got two done bc I'm currently sick and my brain is not working so well lol but yeah, if anyone ever wants to hear more ask away!

-----

Darthfett

lando knows what's up lol

Imagine trying to crack something, anything, the tiniest spark of affection, between these two bucket heads. Honestly just such a fun challenge lol. This pair kinda stems from how if Vader needs a bounty hunter? He hires Fett. This is obv meant to imply that Boba is the best at what he does ofc but I have a very active imagination and when you ALSO ship Rexwalker then it adds some lovely angst to the ship. Also. These two men are seriously closed off, lonely and harboring resentment. They get each other 💁‍♀️ Boba also has balls of titanium steel bc he's one of the only people in the galaxy not protected by Palpatine that can talk Like That to Vader and not get force choked to death on the spot, so. I think Vader likes that 😏

I've read some pretty good fics for these two! Quite a lot of the time Boba is very turned on by just the Look of Vader's suit and how ominously powerful he is and like... same?!? 💚🖤

boba is me 🫠

ALSO also, I just have to throw this in here

jsghxhdh it's so funny, Vader's just like ffs NO but there's no real heat behind it he just looks done lol

Satidala

Yknow that one Clone Wars ep where Satine and Padmé have to investigate a mysterious outbreak of illness at a school on Mandalore? I've watched that ep an unhealthy amount of times lmao - the way Satine greets Padmé and their little moments 🤭

👀👀

They also have dinner together!!! And they change their outfits so many times throughout the ep, which, according to my calculations backed up by zero proof, was done in the same room as each other which all points to the logical conclusion that they were having lots of lesbian sex. Anyway, I just think they look neat together, and imagine the Longing 🤌 They're both so busy but will always put their duties first so in true wlw fashion they would be writing in their diaries about the other and doing a lot of window gazing :')

queens 👑

to be continued maybe lol, thanks anon!

#undulinoted asks #undulinoted ships #darthfett #satidala #palpakin #melshian #droidcaptain

[starsinmylatte]

Is this going to be the exact same thing I posted on discord? Yes, yes it is. But I’m excusing myself because I’m not feeling very cash money rn

My uterus is currently trying to kill me and I’ve been thinking of headcanons to distract myself from it. I 100% could see Thrawn researching how to help with bad cramps and I see one of the conversations going a little something like this.

Pairing: Thrawn x afab!reader

Rating: Mature (18+) MDNI

Warnings: discussion of periods and sex. This is really just a short, funny convo.

You laid on the bed clutching a heating pad and praying that the medicine would ease the cramping soon. A cool hiss of hydraulics signaled the opening of your door, and it could only be one person.

Thrawn strode into the room, data pad in hand, “Ch’eo ch’acah, I found a rather interesting article on the holonet regarding the human female menstrual cycle.”

“Oh?” You responded absentmindedly, the pain distracting you from any attempts at conversation.

He continued on, “Yes, it seems your medicine is taking a while to work, so I found something to help until it does.”

“Really, what is it?”

“An orgasm.”

*WHAT*

#thrawn #thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn #star wars

[al-astakbar]

☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ The Gift ☆ part 2/?

> summary ☆ As congratulations for his recent promotion to Grand Admiral, Emperor Palpatine gives Thrawn a gift -- a young woman who has been trained as a pleasure companion.

> pairing ☆  Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [3.8k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ brief sexual language ☆ series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7

> posted on ao3

author note!! To be very clear, in this story reader is a concubine against her will and is gifted to Thrawn, but there is at no point any noncon between Thrawn and reader. Reader is never noncon with anyone, either referenced or explicitly, and there is never any explicit noncon. However, this is a darker take on Thrawn and he doesn't really have many hangups about putting his gift to use...

Neither Mirri nor Solis know where his shuttle is, and one did not stop a Grand Admiral as he was walking away to ask for clarification about something so trivial, despite you elbowing them to do just that.

They walk you to the turbolift, and just before you get on, an aide comes up and gives directions. Landing platform E-52. The lambda class shuttle. The aide leers at you openly, and wonders to his superior officer, “what do I have to do to get one of those?” 

The Commander snorts. “A Prasad?” the formal term for the type of trained, indoctrinated pleasure companion popular among the Empire’s elite; you are surprised he knows it, though any good Imperial citizen would recognize what you are just from the distinctive robes. “Gain more favor than you’ll ever hope for in a lifetime. Or make friends with someone who’s got one. I hear they share the best ones around. Get invited to the right party and all you’ve got to do is wait in line for a turn.” 

You stiffen and stumble, nearly managing to turn towards the two men, with no real plan of what you might say. Mirri catches you. 

“Do you think he’ll be-- he’ll be nice?” You ask in a small voice once the lift doors have closed. Or at least gentle. Mirri and Solis do not answer. The walk to the platform is quick, just a short ways outside through more elegant, richly appointed halls. These ones have hanging gardens, trailing vines and foliage beneath a huge glass ceiling and bursts of flowers, the entire floor a mosaic of millions of black and white stones. You try to dawdle, slowing your pace to spend just a little more time. Given to a Grand Admiral, you will likely spend at least the next six months in space, on a warship, and you don’t know when you might be planetside again, let alone on one with greenery.

But Mirri and Solis lead you through it too quickly, and after a short walk, you are there on LP E-52.

Private platforms such as this one have small, luxurious waiting rooms, so that the senator or whoever is being flown that day does not have to wait out in the elements. Mirri and Solis choose not to use it, and you know they would have happily made you stand there in the wind, until you are bone-chilled and shivering despite the bright Coruscant sun.

Luckily-- one small mercy on this day-- the Grand Admiral arrives within minutes, walking ahead of a small contingent. 

Nausea has been a constant, rising bloat in your stomach since walking into the throne room but now it threatens to overwhelm you. A wild, horrible thought comes to you, that maybe if you’re quick enough you could run for the edge of the platform, and just be… done. But you know it wouldn’t work. There are safety measures. Systems of repulsor barriers and simple old fashioned nets to catch people in case of falls or accidents. 

“Be sure to mind him,” Mirri whispers to you harshly. 

“The last nine to be presented before you all went to lower ranking officers or minor dignitaries—“ Solis says. 

“And all were better behaved than you.” Mirri’s tone is venomous. 

Then they both step back, bowing deeply to him, and you stand alone. Strong winds buffet the platform, whipping your robe against you like a sail. 

Instead of his aide approaching you, the Grand Admiral himself advances. Up close, he is even more imposing of a figure, his bearing imperious and assured, his skin unmistakably blue and his hair sleek blue-black, like indigo. In this light, he looks magnificent, a paragon of an Imperial officer. His uniform is blindingly white, gold shoulder bars, silver collar insignia, and code cylinders glinting brightly, the broad expanse of his chest interrupted by the large rank plaque. The jodhpurs and black jackboots only make his legs look longer-- most Imperial officers you have seen do not carry off the look so well. 

You have heard of Gifts kneeling when presented, and always thought it was stupid, but the urge to sink down in front of him pulls at you now. Somehow it would feel so natural. Just the idea of it feels traitorous to everything you believe.

“Come,” he says, bringing one white leather-gloved hand from behind his back to gesture for you to walk beside him. He is stern, but not hurried. He is a Grand Admiral, meaning everyone else bends to his schedule and never the other way around. A cadre of four black armored death troopers fall in step behind— they must be his personal guard. You gawk at them a moment too long, turning your head to look over your shoulder, then the Grand Admiral’s hand is at the small of your back. 

“Watch your step,” he murmurs, a second before you trip— the hem of your robe, the uneven surface of the boarding ramp, or both— and he catches you, sets you right. 

“I’m fine, I don’t need help,” you say sharply, even as your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

He lets you shrug off his assistance with another quiet word. His accent is like nothing you’ve heard before-- not that you are particularly well traveled-- but it certainly isn’t from any Core world.

“Where are we going?” you ask, feeling strange and a bit guilty for wanting to hear him talk more. 

Once you, the Grand Admiral, the complement of troopers and a handful of aides are inside the small loading bay, the ramp closes with a prolonged hydraulic hiss. 

“This way,” he says. You follow him through a narrow passageway to the main cabin. Unlike the rest of the shuttle, which is drab, Imperial-issue grey, this cabin is furnished with plush leather seats, what looks like a small bar, and a shiny stone surface desk in one corner, all in sleek black and white.

The Grand Admiral motions courteously for you to sit, while his aide, a pale, light haired young man in an olive-drab lieutenant’s uniform takes a post standing by the hatch you just came through. 

“I meant-- are we leaving the planet? What system are we going to?”

At that moment, the shuttle’s engines kick on, and light streams into the cabin as the wings unfold while the craft slowly lifts off and rotates. Strange. From the outside it looks like the only transparisteel on the shuttle is around the cockpit. 

“Yes,” the Grand Admiral says. “To my ship, the Imperial Star Destroyer Chimaera. Lieutenant Tyvo, send word ahead for the stormtroopers to begin preparing their cold weather uniforms and kit. And during the next week, have the section chiefs ensure forward chasing tractor beam targeteers run through another training cycle.”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant says, and immediately begins typing on his datapad.

The Grand Admiral continues speaking to the lieutenant, giving instructions about maneuvers and training schedules and meetings and briefings, and you realize he will not be sharing any more information with you. So you settle deeper into your seat-- much more comfortable than any in the austere cloister where you had spent the past year-- and gaze out the starboard viewport. The city flashes by, spire after spire, growing quickly smaller as the shuttle rises. No waiting in traffic, but of course a Grand Admiral must have his own priority lane. 

“Anything else, sir?”

“No, that is all. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

You look over to find the Grand Admiral standing, as he seems to like to do, with his hands clasped behind his back. He regards you for a moment, cold and appraising, before sitting opposite, and his authoritative bearing makes you sit up straighter. Somehow his starched white uniform doesn’t wrinkle. “What is your name?”

The question gives you pause. It is customary to only speak a companion’s given name in private. “They didn’t tell you?”

“I would like to hear it from you.”

He does not seem cruel or pushy, and that unbalances you. With less reluctance than you feel you ought to have, you quietly give him your name so the Lieutenant can’t hear, and then ask his. 

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” he says. “But you may find it easier to call me Thrawn.”

You repeat his name with a small nod. “Thrawn.”

His glowing red eyes do not have pupils, and though you can’t tell quite where he might be looking, you feel the weight of his attention pinning you down nonetheless.

You feel your face grow hot. Is he going to have you here, now? It would be well within his rights. He is entitled to anything— everything. The thought makes you squirm with anger and… something else hot and deep in your chest you can’t give a name to. 

Quickly, you pull your gaze down to your lap. Demure, as you had been taught. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?”

“Staring. You probably get stared at a lot.” Hold your tongue. Mirri and Solis would have seen that you were punished for this impertinence. There had been one girl who had been with you, retraining after her first master had been terribly displeased with her. At least, that is as much as you could glean. He had removed her tongue before sending her back, and the threat of having all her teeth pulled out too kept her obedient. 

Thrawn raises a blue-black eyebrow. “Indeed.” 

For a time, he says nothing more, but studies you closely. His eyes seem to roam over your form, and you feel somehow naked, exposed for his discernment. You watch him back, thankful for your veil once more, studying his face. His features are even, well proportioned, though severe, and his dark hair slicked back from a widow’s peak makes him distinguished. Perhaps he is considered handsome among his people. The third time he catches your gaze, you get the distinct sense that he knows exactly where you are looking. 

There is a definite hunger in the way he watches you, intent and completely still. As if waiting for you to act first. The tiniest movement. You exhale slightly, and it makes the fabric covering your face flutter. 

Caught again. 

“Remove your veil.”

You jerk at the order, and in a split second of gut instinct, almost obey, such is the authority in his voice and bearing. Thrawn’s aide gives a start too, fumbling the data pad he’s holding. 

“Give us the room, Lieutenant,” Thrawn says without looking away from you, and his aide hurries out. 

Thrawn rises, unfolding his long limbs gracefully, and crosses to you in two steps. “My apologies.” He stands at his full height, broad shoulders square and hands behind his back. It gives him an infuriating air of calm superiority. And still, you can’t shake a foreboding sense that he is very, very dangerous, and not to be crossed. “It is customary for those of your position to remain covered at all times, except during… intimate situations. Is it not?” 

“Y-yes. Yes sir,” you say, relieved that he understands. 

A beat passes, and then he prompts: “we are alone now.”

You feel your face heat at the implication. “I don’t want to.” 

His mouth presses into a thin line. “That is of no concern to me.”

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

His red eyes gleam. “It was not a request.” 

You stand up, meaning to move away, but it only puts you closer to him, and his height dwarfs yours. “I don’t want to lay with you!” 

“Is that what you imagine necessitates showing your face?” His voice drops to nearly a whisper, full of dark promise. “When I fuck you, it need not be so personal.”

At that, your heart thuds in your chest. 

Before you can think it through, you try to slap him. He catches your wrists, dispassionate and unflinching as you struggle against him. “Enough. There will be no need for…theatrics. I was given to understand that those of your Order are all volunteers. Is that not true in your case?”

You can’t help your wide-eyed expression. It is an open secret that many young men and women were pressed into this sort of service, and your Order is no exception-- but nobody spoke that secret aloud. And it certainly wasn’t brazenly stated by an Imperial Grand Admiral to his new companion. You nod in confirmation, hoping that this isn’t some sort of trap or game to get you to admit something he could punish you for.

“I see,” he says, considering for a moment. “Then, you have a choice to make. An unwilling partner is of little use to me.”

You wrench against his grip, but it’s futile. “Oh so I guess that makes it all right then. You don’t want to— to fuck me but you’re going to anyway,” you say hotly. He doesn’t rise to the accusation, merely waits for a beat, allowing you to continue. When you say nothing more, he speaks. 

“As I said, I would prefer your cooperation, but it is not required.  However, there are… complexities… to our situation. Our Emperor—“

“Your Emperor.”

“--Will expect me to fully enjoy the gift he has given me. This is not in question. He will know, if I do not take you to bed. I have no intention of slighting him by refusing his generosity.”

“But how would he know! Couldn’t you just tell him that you have?”

“No,” he says, his voice cold and soft. 

You stare at him for a moment, breath catching suddenly at how close you are, and then you start struggling again. “Let go of me!” 

His hands tighten around your wrists like shackles, squeezing so hard it feels like your bones grind together. 

“Please!” A note of panic, breath tight in your chest. It had been your last, foolish hope that whoever you were given to would be understanding, would find the whole practice barbaric. “Just let me go, pretend I ran away, just leave me somewhere!”

Thrawn, evidently, is not that person.

“Think,” he presses, red eyes flashing with impatience, though he reins back in to calm just as quickly. “Under what circumstances might you leave my service?” 

It takes a moment for you to realize that this is not a rhetorical question. Most of the time Mirri and Solis had considered answers to such questions as just another form of backtalk, worthy of punishment.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer,” he says, rather sharply.

Another trap? You try to gather your thoughts, calm your breathing, but your pulse is wild with high emotion, and your voice shakes. “I could… run away.”

“Yes. What else?”

You draw in a deep breath, and smell the starch and wool of his uniform. “You could let me go.”

He nods but stays silent, expectant. A third option? You frown, then venture: “someone else takes me. Without your permission. Steals me away.”

“Indeed.”

Your mind flashes to the ones who were returned broken and maimed. “I could misbehave,” you say, with a touch of defiance. 

“Yes, you could,” he agrees. “The circumstances of you leaving my ship would be altogether unpleasant, but more so for you than for me. You are a gift that cannot be refused, so your removal would be necessitated by your own behavior. Now, what do you imagine the consequences would be like?”

You swallow thickly and shake your head, unable to find the words.  

“At best, placed with somebody else with less concern for your… consent. At worst��” his voice trails off, letting you reach the obvious conclusion silently. 

He is right, which is all the more infuriating to admit because of the matter-of-fact way he had stated it. Gifts who came back were, if deemed ‘salvageable’, subjected to months of remedial conditioning and then reassigned, almost always to someone less desirable than the previous recipient. Lower ranking, or particularly hideous or cruel. It was whispered that there was one Outer Rim Governor whose appetite for a fresh face had been the demise of at least four Gifts. 

“There are functions, too,” he adds quietly, with just a hint of something in his voice that you imagine to be embarrassment or reluctance, “ that I will be expected to attend, with you by my side.” 

“And by functions you mean…?”

“You might call it a party. Others who have been recipients of the Emperor’s goodwill would also be there, with their gifts. We will be… observed.”

He waits for that to sink in. 

No… You have an idea of what he means, and it makes your blood run cold. 

“It is imperative that we demonstrate our appreciation of His generosity.”

Your stomach turns. Not quite ready to confront the reality of what he’s telling you. “Can’t you just send a ‘thank you’ holo or something?”

He remains silent.

“How… how many people?”

“Hundreds.” 

“Hundreds…” you repeat hollowly. “Observed… doing what? Having dinner together? Do you fuck me right there on the table between courses or could we get away with waiting until after the meal and finding a dark corner?”

Thrawn says nothing for a moment, just gives you a rather irritated look. “Understand,” he says flatly, “that I did not ask for you. You are a distraction.”

You have to swallow down the insult of this rejection. 

“Then leave me at some spaceport. Outer Rim, I don’t care.” You say, voice cracking. One more try, even though he’s already convinced you of the futility of it all. 

“I did not say I don’t want you. But— as I said, I cannot. If I let you escape, I show incompetence, and lack of control over those in my care. If I let you go, it would be seen as rejecting the Emperor’s goodwill, disobeying his command, even.”

It clicks in your mind, then. If you do not give him a certain degree of cooperation, it could hurt his career and reputation— whatever that might be. He is concerned enough to mention it, though his attempts to cajole you into compliance so far have been baffling. This strange Grand Admiral claims to have no regard for your wishes but he is actually trying to convince you instead of ripping off your clothes and holding you down. He’s taken the time to explain it all and seems to want you to understand his reasoning.

You take a deep breath, trying to slow your heart pounding. Thrawn still holds you close, and he is so tall his rank plaque is just above eye level for you. 

“The embroidery on your robe and veil — tell me about it.”

This catches you off guard. “I—it’s part of our traditional— I don’t know what to call it. Our uniform, I guess. It’s added during our Vigil.”

“It is very fine work.” He sounds intrigued, and picks up the hem, holding it closer to look at and brushing his thumb over the stitching. “And the other two with you before, their garments had similar work to yours, also done in the same type of thread,  though not as intricate. The motifs were simpler, and the execution… adequate. This was done with great skill and care.” He grasps your wrist in such a way as to closer inspect the embroidery; it draws you clear to him so you are pressed against his body. You squirm, knowing he can feel your breasts against him, as you can feel his heavy belt, and that he’s half-hard and hot against your stomach. 

“Be still,” he murmurs, making no effort to conceal his arousal.  He takes a few more moments examining the work, then lets it fall.

“Now,” he says. “Will you remove your veil?”

With a cooler head, you realize he had done nothing to punish your outburst, nor any of your other little jibes. Stars, you had tried to hit him and he hadn’t even been angry about it. This doesn’t mean you’re safe with him. Doesn’t earn him even a little trust. But for now, it seems wise to acquiesce. This will be okay, or at least not so bad. He will not demean or abuse you. And he is right. There is no good way out of this, for either of you. 

Heart pounding-- no one outside the cloister on Coruscant has seen your bare face in over a year-- you sweep the fabric up and over, so that it trails down your back as if you were a bride. The change in light makes you blink and squint for a moment. Thrawn leans forward, as if he can’t help himself, and strokes a lock of your hair off your face. 

You try not to flinch away from him, nor to let any emotion show.

But he traces his thumb over your lips and you feel a hot prickle of tears that you can’t hold back. It would almost be easier if he were cruel. 

“When they train you,” he says, voice dangerously quiet, “do they fuck you?” 

You feel a pulse through your core at his question, and immediately shove the feeling down. “Why? You don’t want someone who’s been used before?” Mouthy again. His expression stays mild.

“Previous experiences do not concern me. I only wish to know what your training entailed.”

“No. They don’t. In most cases the recipients want to be able to be the first, you know, to be in control of…that.” You finish lamely, a vivid blush creeping up your neck. 

“It is believed the recipient will wish to shape the desires of his companion,” Thrawn offers. 

“Yes. Not because of anything like— like purity.”

He takes a moment to consider this, then asks, “are you pure?” 

You blink, meeting his eyes, and immediately regret it, as you feel tears well up anew. You quickly look aside, and can see the dark edge of space out the viewport, just where it meets the muddy orange-gold of the atmosphere. “No,” you say, then look right back at him, lifting your chin. “Are you?”

One blue-black eyebrow goes up. “No.” 

Then he lets you go, saying nothing more during the ride except to direct your attention to the Chimaera on approach. It is a magnificent ship, and you press against the transparisteel trying to see more of it, though its bulk quickly fills the entire view. On the underbelly of the ship is painted a huge, stylized chimaera, twin heads crossing over the wedge line. You have to restrain yourself from asking him a million questions about everything you see as you pass beneath the bow and into its massive shadow. 

An escort of four TIE fighters sweeps in to escort the shuttle to the hangar bay. The distinctive high roar of their engines is somehow audible inside the shuttle. You had never understood that, though admittedly your knowledge of physics and space travel is limited. You almost ask Thrawn. He would know, and he is still standing quite close to you. You can feel him at your back, watching the same panorama, and the one time you brave a glance over your shoulder at him, his gaze is distant and his expression inscrutable.

☆ link to part 3 ☆

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#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn fic #thrawn fanfiction #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x y/n #mitth'raw'nuruodo #thrawn fanfic

[ellie-tarts]

Hi ellieeee !! I wanted to ask if u have some book recommendations? You always have great taste :3c

hi ash hiiiiii

first off! the thief (1996) by megan whalen turner- gen is a proud thief, and his boasting lands him the impossible task of stealing an object of legends for the crown. but gen has his own plans, and perhaps the king is a fool to trust a thief this series is one of my favorites of all time. the first book is a fantasy heist novel set loosely in the byzantine empire, and gen is such a loveable rascal who i also want to punt across the room. and! after the first book of the series, political machinations start to come into play and things start to change as gen grows up and interacts more with the wider world around him. this series is a lot of fun, and truly some amazing pov work and dramatic irony happening as it unfolds

the left hand of darkness (1969) ursula k le guin- genly ai is a human sent as an ambassador to gethen, a planet where it is always winter (by his standards) and the people who live there do not have a biological sex the majority of the time and don't really have the concept of gender. however, ai definitely does, and it's a point of friction between him and the aliens. whether or not this is a queer story is a difficult question, but it is still a wonderful book about what it means to be human and what it means to be alien. and also what is a country and where do we owe our loyalties and! it is also a story about going on a perilous journey and coming out the other side with an understanding and an unbreakable bond

iron widow (2021) xiran jay zhao- i feel like i'm late to the bandwagon, but i just read this last month and loved it! and now i want heavenly tyrant so bad _(:3」∠)_ iron widow is a queer mecha scifi reimagining of the rise of the chinese empress wu zetian. zetian is such an outspoken character who won't stand for anything getting between her and her goals, and the book follows her as she carves a path through the society that raised her. she is a delight. i support women's wrongs

the traitor baru cormorant (2015) seth dickinson- baru cormorant is a young child when the empire of masks comes to her home. instead of conquest, they offer trade and money. educated in an imperial school, this book follows baru in her first posting as the imperial accountant in a country up north that has also recently been subjugated to the empire. as political unrest brews in the north, baru has to consider what choices to make and how far she's willing to go. is baru cormorant a traitor? i hesitate to recommend this book, but i sure thought about it for a month straight so i suppose it can go on this list. it's. kind of a slog to get through. life in the empire of masks can be a string of attrocities, and baru faces racism, sexism, and homophobia everywhere she turns. but also i do love baru bc she is messy and multifaceted and loves to lie 👍🏻 i wish life was kinder to her. im afraid to keep reading book 2 bc i know her life is just going to get worse

other things i have read recently and enjoyed: padawan by kiersten white and the new canon thrawn trilogies by timothy zahn. but these are star wars books, and probably not what you're looking for lol

anyways! thank you for asking mwah mwah. i hope you find something good to read even if it's not one of these. and possibly send some book recommendations my way 💕💕

#i have never written a rec list b4 and it probably shows #but i hope this is something along the lines of what you are looking for #tqt #tlhod #iron widow #baru cormorant #book rec #my post #if there's any particular content warnings anyone wants to know about these books hmu #there's like one essential moment in left hand and it's like. well. your mileage may vary #and everything happens in baru. man. #also #i found this ask in my drafts one month back (and waaaay before it was asked) #and like. why #but also glad i found it #ask #answer

[separatist-apologist]

Ok but like, we've seen your ACOTAR ranking of who is best in bed, can we have a SW ranking too?

As agreed, it's MY top ten. MY top ten. If you're new to the rankings, please remember that my opinion is infallible and if you disagree you gotta fill out a claim with the claims department which is offsite and file a complaint before it can be reviewed.

10. Luke Skywalker- How I wish they'd let this man fuck Mara Jade. Dedicated to the force 1000%. Too busy righting the wrongs of the galaxy to take time for self-care.

09. Hux- REPRESSED. It's not fun OR nice.

08. Obi Wan Kenobi- Probably DID fuck but at what cost, is what I imagine he thought afterwards. Guilt x 1000, worried about attachment. Always under the cover of dark so the force does not see.

07. Cal Kestis- Just awkward. Sweet bean, fumbling and endlessly apologetic. Takes direction well but it always feels like the first time. Droid watching from the corner of the room doesn't help.

06. Thrawn- He's mean about it but also why is he TALKING so much? Sir, a time and a PLACE thank you very much

05. Din Djarin- On the one hand, his aesthetic is absurdly hot and I would 10000% let him fuck me in the helmet. On the other hand, does not radiate experience or even interest, for that matter. Dedicated to the job.

04. Poe Dameron- this personally hurts me. It's GOOD but he's not looking for anything but a good time. Another droid just chilling out in the corner of the room. Love 'em and leave 'em, the resistance is his one true love.

03. Han Solo- Talks a big game, backs it up for the most part. Clinglier than you'd think. Radiates daddy issues and that translates to the most disgustingly hot night of your life. Is it in his ship? Yeah. Ten feet of space? Most definitely. Did he choke you into filth and call you his good girl? Mmmhmm.

02. Kanan Jarrus- DADDY you mean? ABSOLUTELY all about it, locked down HERA you know she wasn't putting up with mediocrity. Good with his hands, you know what I mean.

01. ANAKIN SKYWALKER- mommy AND daddy issues. MAJORLY repressed. Not working on your feelings any other way than externally through sex. Only way he feels close to someone. Nothing off limits. Breeding kink

#im not tagging this star wars fans scare me #also swap out anakin for darth and i think it stays the same #this was maybe the dumbest list ive made yet

[myevilmouse]

What's your favourite theme or trope in writing to work with?

Thank you so much for this ask @takadasaiko!!! I love asks and appreciate the chance to think about fic at the moment, as we're in the midst of craziness and tumblr has become my little fandom oasis over the last couple days.

I thought long and hard about this, because while I have written to specific tropes (huddling for warmth, there was only one bed sleeping bag, sex pollen, fuck or die, undercover as a couple, etc.) I never really thought I had a favorite or one I repeated enough to become a theme. However, when I started skimming my fic titles to think about your question I realized I -do- have a favorite trope apparently, which I have written three times, which is Fuck or Die (Kinetic Countermeasures, Infectious, Corporeal), and also one sort of "theme" that dominates a lot of my fic, and that is namely clueless/hopeless woman finds unexpected romance with determined/attentive man. Does that count? I hope so!

For fuck or die (similar to sex pollen), I like the excuse to write semi-noncon or dubcon, where choice is removed from the equation. Chalk it up to recovering Catholic, perhaps. I really love the idea of oh no we have to! It works well for stubborn characters like the ones I write, and I admit I am very fond of my fics that tiptoe around this issue (like Camera Obscura) as well as the ones that confront it head-on, like the three mentioned.

As for the theme of dude into clueless woman, mainly this comes up with Thryce and Luke/Mara, which of course are the ships I write the most. I think I like the idea of flipping what is so often the opposite in reality, in my personal experience, where the dude is oblivious and requires smacking over the head with a love stick to figure out she's into him.

So here, the guy is totally into the woman, but the woman has convinced herself for a variety of reasons (often imagined) that he'd never want her or it would never work. Is there a name for this type of trope? Not sure...

It's by no means the only thing I write--I have made women the determined ones at times--but I think my natural penchant for the alpha male has translated into this romanticized version of these characters, where Luke and Thrawn are often amused, exasperated, confused, and thwarted by the refusal of their chosen partners' to admit/accept/surrender to their own feelings/happiness.

I hope you liked this answer and I thank you again so much for this fabulous ask! Have an adorable Jedi in gratitude!!!

Edit:  rereading this I also think I wrote huddling for warmth thrice hahaha but I forgot about the Jaime/Brienne fic since I was skimming evilmouse only (aka Star Wars only) stuff.  So I guess that’s also a fave trope!!!

#asks #i like asks #fandom friends #myfic #my thoughts #tropes #fuck or die #sex pollen #fanfic is for fun #welcome to my kinks #thank you!

[kitewithfish]

Wednesday Reading Meme and a note about Storygraph for fanfic readers

I'm traveling this week so I'm going to be out of ambit tomorrow (aka actual Wednesday) so I figured I would write out this week's reading in advance and add to it if I finish anything on the plane.

Also, useful little note for Storygraph users- they now have a way to log things as Not A Book! This was specifically added so that people could use Storygraph to track their fanfic without having to clog the Storygraph databases with non-book items. Since it does not add the fanfic to the larger catalog of books, it also doesn't put fic authors in the awkward position of having to ask people not to link their fanfic to a non-fanfic audience. Full details here: https://roadmap.thestorygraph.com/features/posts/-not-a-book-status

What I've Read Homeworld Elegy by Ashcroft_Writes - part 2 of Gunslinger's Paean ( sprawling and wonderful AU from Epsiode 4:07 of The Clone Wars) - Technically an unfinished series but existing works each are complete. I found this to be just... solidly one of the best books I've read. Any genre, but in particular for sci fi. And it's about CAD BANE from the fucking Clone Wars cartoon. After the events of the first fic, which lead to Cad maybe sort of kind of sidling sideways towards considering maybe his current way of life is not working for him exactly as it is, he has to return to the space station he grew up on. This fic takes its original characters and just soaks them with meaning and builds metaphor and culture into everything - it feels incredibly sci fi and incredibly real. Highly recommend both works in the series.

Honorable mention for a shorter fic - On the Side by spicedrobot - Maul/Cad Bane, sex work, mind sex - just a great take on an interesting concept!

What I'm Reading Thrawn: Treason - Timothy Zahn - book three - I skipped book two because it did not have Eli Vanto, and I'm a simple creature.

What I'll Read Next

Darth Maul: Lockdown Whale Rider Thrawn -Heir to the Empire Maybe Spinning Silver Tiger's Daughter

Things I own: Might re-read City of Lies in order to get back on the page for the sequel book. Hunting Towards Heartstill -blackkat Think of England - KJ charles True Colors - Karen traviss

#reading meme #star wars #cad bane #ashcroft_writes #storygraph