mentions of swearing, spoilers (nanami's part), suggestive (toji's part) fem reader in gojo's and sukuna's
texts with... BOYFRIEND!JJK BOYS
you have an argument with your significant other, how might things unfold?
SATORU GOJO ꩜ 𓂃 ࣪˖
SUGURU GETO °₊ˎˊ˗
KENTO NANAMI゛ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀
TOJI FUSHIGURO⠀ ┈─★
RYOMEN SUKUNA ♡𓈒
CHOSO KAMO ₊˚ ⋅ ۶ৎ
hii! so umm, i haven't been active in quite a bit, and i apologise :(
I've been really unmotivated to do anything, and everything in my life takes a lot of effort, but I'm hoping I can find the joy I used to in writing/making these for you guys!
honestly, your support and comments have encouraged me to keep posting!!
getting zandik to relax is no easy task. you have to physically pull him away from his work, steal his cane and pick him up so he can't run away. he may grumble and complain, but he does appreciate your care more than you'll ever know. once he's comfortably sat on the couch, offer him some tea and dark chocolate on the side, and watch the old man basically melt into the cushions.
he likes to rest his head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat soothes him like nothing else ever could. once he's drowsy enough, you can get away with pressing kisses against every wrinkle and mole on his face. he'd usually call that meaningless affection, but now that his guard was down, he was putty in your hands.
8 and 18 were bickering again, sprinting down the hall to find zandik as fast as possible. they needed his opinion on a discussion they were having, wanting to know which one of them was right. as they ran inside the lounge room, you shushed them, gesturing to the sleeping scholar.
after making sure no one else was around, 8 delivered a swift kick to 18's shin, before jumping on your lap for a snuggle. he likes to pretend that he's mature and grown up, but given that the others weren't here, he couldn't resist the cuddle pile.
18 wanted to strangle the little brat, but the scene in front of him was oddly domestic. he'd rather die than admit that he craved to be the one receiving your affectionate touches, wanting nothing more than to lock the geezer somewhere where he can't steal all of your attention.
he was about to leave, but once you called out to him, it didn't take much to convince him to stay. 18 sat beside you, stiff as a board, until you tugged him to lean against you, as he slowly accepted that he was in fact enjoying himself. 8 was already asleep, mumbling something about dumb segments and aranaras.
with your free hand, you caressed 18's face. seeing him scowl and blush was always so much fun. and now that both zandik and 8 were dozing off, he didn't want to be loud and risk waking them up, opting to roll his eyes to show his (fake) displeasure.
soon enough, the only sounds that filled the lounge room were soft breaths and the occasional snore from your favorite old fart. such moments you cherished deep inside your heart, knowing that with each night that passed, your lover was slowly slipping away from your embrace, and into an eternal slumber.
here is the final part to the mini series of dottore’s segments having their way with you <3
warnings: mutual masturbation mentions (lmk if i missed anything!) || heavily unedited
characters: 65 and 85 || part 1 || part 2
65
It appears after 45 years old, his mood and behavior start changing. This segment is more grumpy, easily to be irritated but can make a joke or two. Often his interactions with you were nice. He’d ask how your day was, how far you got into your research, if you needed help with anything. 65 was more quiet than the rest (most likely because he did not want to be bothered) but he definitely still argues with the other segments.
He may be grumpy but he did enjoy a tea time every so often. In his mind, he worked so much from his younger years till now, he knew he deserved a break every now and then.
He thought of you as a sweet girl but sometimes he thought you weren’t at your full potential. Unfortunately 65 became one of those older men who thinks that ‘younger people’ are full of themselves — a complete 360 from 45’s attitude who thought of you as extremely intelligent. Therefore, leading him to constantly finding ways to correct you.
“I see what you mean, but to be frank, that is simply incorrect and impossible.” Oh he definitely ticked you off often… but you couldn’t deny the obvious attraction you had to the older man when he would rebuttal your claims.
How you ended in this position after Zandik’s permission was unknown. The older man had you sitting on the chair, legs spread open with your pants pooling around your ankles, one hand in between your legs as your fingers pump in and out of your cunt. You whimper, muttering things under your breath as you feel yourself trembling in pleasure and humiliation. The segment sat in front of you, legs spread open as he eyed you intently through the plague mask, one hand lazily stroking his cock.
“Put another finger in. I know you can handle three.” He demands sharply, hissing when his finger grazes over the sensitive head of his cock, using his pre as lube. You nod quickly and slip another finger inside, mouth parting and your head leaning back at the sensation of being filled. As good as it felt for you, the man was deeply unsatisfied with the way you were pleasing yourself. Snapping out from a mindless state, you gaze up through hooded eyelids when the segment appears standing in front of you. “Some things need to be taught, huh?”
65 takes matters into his own hands, quite literally. Both of his gloved hands are occupied on your body. Three fingers are pumping in and out, the leather texture rubbing against your walls just right and the tips hitting that spot that feels as if you’re melting. His other hand holds your face firmly in his grip, forcing you to stare into the red circles on his mask. If you focused hard enough, you swore you could catch a glimpse of his eyes.
“If you can’t even properly please yourself, what makes you think you’re deserving of me, hm?” He asks, leaning closer to you. The tip of his mask bumps into your forehead presses ever so slightly into your skin that you’re sure a mark will be left in place. Your fingers grip onto his wrist, digging your nails into his clothing. Your chest heaves up and down, your nipples erect and reacting to the cold temperature of the lab and beads of sweat trickle down the valley of your chest. You look so erotic in his chair, pleading him to continue as you’re so close and begging him to show you how it’s done to receive your reward.
Nothing turns the older man on that someone so much younger than him was begging for him to show them how to properly please themselves. His cock aches more at the thought of you pathetically playing with yourself in your bed when Zandik neglected you. Your moans bouncing off your bedroom walls, the smell of sinful acts filling the room as you lay naked in your bed. Would you tease yourself? Drag your fingers slowly up and down your folds and rubbing the smallest circles on your clit? Or would you be desperate and try to finish quick? Would you imagine Zandik? Or perhaps did you imagine someone else?
Zandik
Your beloved Zandik, the creator of all the segments that wander aimlessly around the lab. You were the first tester of the Elixir of Immortality, luckily for you it worked, but unfortunately for both, it did not work for Zandik. Every day was borrowed time and you were grateful for each minute to spend with him.
When Zandik first mentioned the idea of splitting his soul into different parts of his life, you thought he was insane — a madman almost. You never told him in fear of upsetting him, but felt as if he was trying to play god and mess with the order of things. However those thoughts washed away when you first met the segments, who equally represented your love at different points in his life, to which you were used to but some did have different behaviors than what was expected (shout out to 25). They were all Zandik, yet different at the same time.
Zandik was the stereotypical perverted old man. Sometimes when he was working, he would love to have you standing beside him and give your thoughts on his paper. A trait that all the segments unfortunately got was how touchy he was. Pale slender fingers would sometimes drag up your hamstring to the curve of your ass and give a small squeeze, much to your dismay. It was his way of making sure his segments know that you were still his.
Occasionally if you wore something a little less lab appropriate, he would click his tongue in disapproval. “I should kick you out of my lab for that. But, perhaps we can work with this.” Due to his decreased mobility, he used his brown cane to lift up the bottom of your skirt to see what panties you were wearing. “So disappointing. You flaunt yourself but couldn’t bother to wear the ones I like.”
Don’t be fooled. Zandik may be 85 and unable to move as he used to, but his cock was very much still active. You just had to do most of the work.
Zandik loves when you bounce on his cock while he sits in his lab chair. Your sinful moans fill the eerie quiet area and echoed off the walls. His fingers grip the skin of your hips, guiding you up and down his aching cock. He leans forward and lets his lips cover your nipple, his tongue swirling around the bud and occasionally nipping at it.
Zandik is VERY possessive of you. He is well aware of his segments and how fond they are of you. They are him after all. His canines sink into your neck, a grin forming on his lips when you cry out his name and slump into him. “Too much.. its too much..” you whine, wriggling your hips in a weak attempt to pleasure the both of you.
Occasionally , Zandik would get that random burst of energy, thankfully. He would have you bent over his desk, his hips moving as fast as his body would allow him. One hand holds onto your shoulder while the other holds onto the steel desk for stability.
It still feels so good. The tip of his cock continuously bruises your cervix with each rut, your walls tightening around him that causes low moans and groans to spill from his mouth. Soon your moans and his deep breaths are drowned out from the skin slapping produced by the two of you. His body is closely pressed up from behind, his lips hovering behind the shell of your ear. Each breath of his grazes your skin and goosebumps appear on your skin. “I know how much you enjoyed my segments. Admit it. Would you prefer I stop and let them have their way with you again?”
Of course no body was better than the original. You whine in protest, shaking your head and moving your hips backward to meet in time with his thrusts. “N-No Zandik! Only want you!” Your fingers begin to lose circulation from how tightly your fists were balled up. The coil in your stomach was so close to snapping and you desperately needed to finish. With the way he was fucking himself into you, you could say that he was close too.
“Tell me you need me, only me. Tell me you hate the others.” He demands, beads of sweat rolling down his face as he focuses on pumping in and out. Only then when you crumble beneath him, squeezing his cock for all he’s worth and telling him what he wants to hear, only then he will finish inside you, panting heavily and whimpering ever so slightly when you rock your hips back. His quivering lips meet the back of your neck, remaining in place before muttering words of adoration. His hands run up and down your back as you come down from your high. Out of everyone, Zandik was the only one to give love and appreciation after your acts on intimacy. You were his beloved after all <3
Summary: What hurts more? To realise that their 'perfection' is purposefully written or how easily it is to be discarded by the one they were written for? They'll find out when you make your final decision.
Pairings: LADS Love Interests x Non/MC
Warnings: Angst with the ending decided. Caleb is turning up the gaslight-o-tron, so just be prepared, but hey, you tell him to KYS, so, uh, just be prepared for that too. But that's just a split second tho. Oh yeah, there's also an attempted murder near the end.
A/N: Yo. This chapter is not edited, btw. I just wanna get it out for those who've been patiently waiting. Once again, thank you for all the support. Seriously. Love y'all. Also, I reccomend listen to that flowers on tomb thing song while reading this. I've been listening it on loop while writing this piece before bed, lol.
Additional note to keep in mind:
MC = She/Her
Non!MC = You
(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4), Part 5
-
In aviation, there are 3 golden principles every pilot must swear by during emergencies:
Aviate: Maintain control of the aircraft. If the aircraft isn't flying, nothing else matters.
Navigate: Know where you are and where you are going. Ensure you are on a safe course and avoiding obstacles or terrain.
Communicate: Talk to the ATC about your situation or seek support.
For Caleb, these 3 became more than just flying. They’re instinctual. Something he lives by. Something he uses to take control in every situation.
Control means security. Control means safety. Something that Caleb refuses to compromise by any means necessary.
So when the Onychinus Leader hacked into his phone to propose a deal regarding his Pipsqueak and you (after respectfully paying him back by infecting his system with a virus), he readily kicked off their plan, which raised the other man's eyebrow.
Aviate.
Because if there's one thing Caleb hates more than EVER, it's unknown variables that he can’t predict.
Qin's subsequent failure is a predictable variable, something that Caleb prepared for the moment he heard that song on the radio. He went in with music to soothe the beast, plying sweet words in order to tame you. Of course, he was set to fail.
What you need is a leather crop, some good rope, and a firm hand.
"Stop trying to mog me before I throw slurs at you. Ok. Well. Maybe not the N-word because my lines are still there, even if they're strings at this point, but, I'm definitely thinking of a hard R. What are you gonna do? Cancel me? Doxx me? Hah!"
...Maybe a gag too.
Somehow, without his men knowing or Caleb's, for that matter, you suddenly appear in the Fleet's newly fortified base right after a particular report about Linkon University and a damaged faculty wing was submitted to his table. You're seething, as he predicted, behind a thinly veneer of nonchalance that they're all accustomed to now. At least from a distance.
But he still remembers how you could summon wave after waves of Wanderers with human-capable intelligence without a Metaflux.
You're the unknown variable that Caleb made the mistake of underestimating, and now, the sheer magnitude of his colossal fucked up is in front of him. Which is why, if he needs to get you to listen, he has to do it as carefully as walking through a minefield.
Navigate.
"I take it that Sylus told you about our deal?" Caleb begins smoothly. He does everything by the book to de-escalate the situation. He's still sitting at his desk, both hands on the table so you can see them. His guns were on the counter somewhere, with some measurable distance between them, so you'll know he's unarmed. The large window behind displays the open sky and drifting clouds, hoping they could lighten your heart. He also spared the courtesy of offering you refreshment because most likely, you'll throw it at his head.
"None of you were ever going to help me go home!" You scream, and all pretense of nonchalance disappears. Hurt and so, so much anger practically drips from your tongue. There's something primal about it, the urge to tear him and probably the others, too, in pieces is clear in your own eyes, and yet, Caleb faces you head-on. "Y'all had me 1-on-1 just so you can figure out how I tick! What part of I don't wanna be here anymore none of you get? I know every single one of you fuckers doesn't give a shit about me, so stop pretending that you do, but Infold writers would've never written any of you to treat a woman so cruelly just to make MC look good, so why are you doing this to me!? The GAME is broken to the point that all of you are semi-aware enough, right? Right!? So all of this is on you, not the GAME!"
The silence that descends feels like a familiar hammer, only this time, Caleb is alone.
Slowly, he pushes himself up and does something that had you utterly flabbergasted and beyond anything you could’ve imagined.
Colonel Caleb Xia, one of the most, if not the most, powerful public figureheads in the world, bows with arms firm at his side in a sincere form of military apology.
"I am sorry. I... from the bottom of my heart, I offer you my sincerest apologies for treating you like a criminal." Caleb's voice is rough. You hate how he actually sounds like he means it. "All I ever wanted was to protect her, and in doing so, I treated you despicably. You deserve the truth, and that is... I was, no, am still afraid." His fingers curl into fists, as if he's mustering the courage to push the words out. "One day you appeared out of nowhere. A woman who shouldn't exist. Someone so impossible who knew things she wasn't supposed to know. Someone who could change things simply by being here." He then slowly lifts his head to stare at you again. "And from the moment you came here, all you did was try to survive. I can barely imagine how that feels like; to wake up in a world you recognise but didn't belong to. Every face was familiar and yet completely different. You must've been terrified." The realisation seems to hurt Caleb and against your wishes... it does something in you. You hate that you can see the man before the explosion changed him. Oh, you know Caleb was always a possessive freak when it comes to MC, but he was vulnerable behind the walls he built to protect himself, and by right, he only showed that side of himself to her. So you have no idea how to react now.
But much to your chagrin, Caleb wasn’t done yet. Oh, God.
"And instead of helping you, I kidnapped and tried to interrogate you. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry. I know what you've lost."
"No, you don't." You interject waspishly, refusing to give him an inch. "What do you know of a healthy family? Josephine was a shitty excuse. I don't even wanna touch your whole deal with MC with a 10-foot poll."
Caleb's jaw ticked, and you would've grinned if you weren't so emotionally exhausted with everything.
"I know enough. You're far away from home and loved ones. Whatever future you've planned for yourself." He swallows. "And I'm sorry for every moment I made that burden heavier. I can't speak for the others but I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you."
"As if the others gave a shit! Pretending to actually—"
"Pretending? I've seen how Xavier's eyes find you even in a room full of people. He mentioned how you light up whenever there's a red bean bun. He loves that about you, the little things about you that he hoard like speckle of stars."
You turn away from him.
"Zayne keeps asking if you've been sleeping. He worries about your health more than his own. Did you know he's been researching patients with immunocompromised? He can't wait to share his progress with you. And Rafayel... he wants another chance. He thinks if he says the right words this time, you'll stop looking at him like he's already lost you."
That got your nose scrunched up and arms folded.
"And Sylus? We all can see how you have him in the palm of your hand. He's utterly fascinated. He sees a woman who keeps fighting, going so far as to defy our world. He admires that about you. And me?"
Caleb exhales once. Deep and heavy. "I envy you."
Your attention immediately snaps back at him. Say what!?
At your shock, a hollow smile adorned his handsome face.
"It infuriates me that... that you don't know how free you are. You move wherever you want. Say whatever you want. You're like a bird." Here, something wistful enters his expression. "You soar through the sky without asking for anyone's permission. You have to know that I've spent my entire life following orders. And somehow you became important to all of us." He then presses a hand on his chest, where the necklace you know is hidden. "You matter to her so naturally... you matter to us too."
The Colonel's office becomes so suffocatingly awkward that you just—
Then you started to laugh, a truly broken sound.
Caleb freezes.
"What does that matter? The GAME can erase me at any point now! I can die in a split second because I'm not supposed to be here, and all of you are too busy trying to play mind games on me, all because of your precious MC! So what exactly is all this love worth, hmm?" You sneer with shaking hands. "And by the way? Apology not accepted. Go kill yourself."
You could tell that your words hit him because Caleb had to stop himself from recoiling. For a moment, genuine pain flashes across his face.
Then something changes.
Something subtle.
Dangerous.
When he opens his eyes again, they are calm. Far too calm for your liking.
"You still don't get it."
"...Get what?"
"None of us chose this world. But you did. You downloaded the App."
A chill crawls up your spine. You... you didn't like the sudden shift of his tone.
With his gaze on you never wavering, you felt like a pinned butterfly underneath a microscope... or a magnifying glass on a hot day. "You chose to enter our lives. That's something none of us can do. Your existence isn't part of the GAME, which in theory, the rules don't own you because you're not MC or any of the side characters. You're a PLAYER... and your choice itself is power. If you stay—"
"Shut the fuck up."
"—you can become real here. You can become one of us."
"I don't want to fucking hear it!"
"If you choose to stay, we'll love you." His voice softens. "The GAME won't be able to delete you. We'll give you a home, a family and you'll never be alone again. All you have to do is choose."
"I don't want that! I want the life that I had! None of you could ever be my family! I want my parents, my siblings, and the friends I made from around the world. Even if my life isn't perfect and I hate my job, at least they belong to me! So no, Caleb. I won't ever choose this world because I will never want to. All of you need to accept that and let me go."
After your tirade and for the first time ever, Caleb looks tired. His shoulders sink with unseen weights.
Then he sighs. A sound heavy with regret. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this."
Communicate.
Alarm bells started screaming at you.
"Sylus and I made an agreement: He was supposed to convince you with music and the promise of a new family. It's kind of funny, but he was supposed to play the part of the good cop due to his sins against you is lighter than mine." Caleb's expression then hardens. "But you're still not listening."
Your eyes warily follow him as he walks toward a nearby table and reaches for a plain black case. An easy thing to overlook, so don't be too harsh on yourself. The heavy-duty locks on it click open.
"Understand that I never want to do this. If you would just give us a chance, then none of this would've been necessary. Once you've calmed down enough, I'll remove it. I promise."
Terror, unlike anything you've ever experienced, tears through your body as panic begins to make you short of breath because...
Because Caleb is holding up a chip.
You don't remember moving. The next thing you knew was that you snatched one of his guns faster than he could react or use his Evol on you before aiming at his head and pulling the trigger.
Can you do Thrawn x reader who is a Tarkin he met at the academy with Eli? They are reunited after the rebels are causing an issue on Tarkins home world.
warnings: Awkward reunion, exes, I made Wilhuff Tarkin reader's godfather/uncle, use of (Y/n),
Part 1 of 2
masterlist | chiss
"Sir?" Eli's soft probing brought Thrawn back to the bridge of the Chimeara. "Are you alright?"
Thrawn blinked taken aback by just how out of it he'd been, "Yes, I am." He cleared his throat and brought his hands behind his back. "My apologies, Lieutenant. My mind is elsewhere."
"I noticed." The young man huffed, coming to a stop beside his commanding officer. "You've been spaced out all day." He paused, thinking. "Since we got the orders, actually."
"Why do you think that is?" Thrawn asked slowly, his eyes locked on Eli's face to watch as he thought it through.
Eli's brow furrowed and his lips pursed as he thought. "Because..." he paused, "Because the orders came from Tarkin himself?"
"There's a bit more to it, Lieutenant, but you are on the correct path." Thrawn looked back to the viewport and the swirling mass of stars before him.
"Because we're going to Eriadu? His home planet?" Eli hedged, stepping into Thrawn's field of view.
Thrawn hummed noncommittally, alerting Eli that he was close to finding the answer. But the young man didn't answer for a long time and Thrawn knew that Eli was stumped. "Do you remember (Y/n)?"
"Vaguely," Eli answered, crossing his arms, "They were in our weapon's history class, right?"
"Yes, and our armaments class, our advanced tactics class, our sparring sessions, and they were my tutor for political science."
Eli blinked, stunned. "I didn't realize they were around us that often."
Thrawn hummed, mildly amused by Eli's obliviousness. "And...we went on a few, how do you call them?" He raised his eyes to the ceiling as he tried to recall the basic word. Eli waited, eager to translate should Thrawn need him to. "Ah," he hummed, the basic word manifesting in his mind, "I believe you call them 'dates'."
Eli's eyes went wide. "You went on a date with (Y/n)?"
"Yes, several." Thrawn raised an eyebrow at Eli. "Is that so surprising to hear?"
Eli stared at him and Thrawn had to wonder if he'd accidentally asked his question in Cheunh. Eventually, Eli seemed to come back to himself. "Yes!" He finally exploded as he furrowed his brows. "When? I never left your side at the academy!"
"You sleep more than I do, Eli." Thrawn pointed out as if that answered everything. "And they are a 'night-owl'."
"So you were sneaking around with each other after curfew?" Eli asked, sounding truly baffled.
"I would not call it 'sneaking around'..." Thrawn considered, "They had enough political sway that our supervisors didn't pay much attention to our comings and goings."
"Political sway?" Eli whispered to himself, trying to recall what Thrawn was talking about.
"Breakout in 5 minutes, Admiral!" Navigation called.
"Thank you." Thrawn replied without looking to the officer. "Have you reached any conclusions, Vanto?"
Eli shook his head. "Only that you're a hell of a lot sneakier than I thought." He fell quiet and Thrawn was content to let him puzzle out the answer a little while longer. "Did you two..." Eli started, slightly trailing off as his face heat skyrocketed much to Thrawn's amusement. "Did you two do anything? Or was it just like getting drinks together?"
Were Eli anyone else, Thrawn might have been inclined to rebuke him for digging into the Chiss's personal life but the admiral wagered that Eli was what he would consider a close friend. And that meant he could be privy to a bit of extra knowledge. "They referred to me as their partner on several occasions."
Eli's eyes went wide. "So you two were proper dating? What happened? Why haven't you mentioned this before?"
"It did not seem like important information." The chiss raised an eyebrow at his Wild Space companion. "And, yes, we were 'dating'." Thrawn frowned as now the whole reason for bringing up his tryst with the other cadet became relevant again. "But, I am afraid I ruined things between us."
"What did you do?" Eli asked, careful to keep any sense of accusation out of his voice.
"When we got our assignments, I didn't tell them that I had been assigned to the Blood Crow until our shuttle was ready to leave. Only then did I seek them out to say goodbye." Thrawn frowned, remembering so clearly the pained expression on their face. "They were upset that I hadn't spoken to them prior. And when they asked if they could com me, I told them to focus on their career."
"Thrawn!" Eli groaned and Thrawn felt himself cringe at his volume.
"I realized too late that that was not the proper way to end things between us."
"No shit." Eli hissed. "That's a really shitty way to break up with someone." He tapped his foot and Thrawn had enough sense in him to feel abashed. "How long were you together?"
"Just shy of two months."
"Maker spare me."
"I thought I would have been doing them a disservice to encourage further communication between us." Thrawn elaborated in a quiet voice. "But after speaking to a few of our fellow officers, I realized that 'long-distance relationships' are incredibly common in the empire and relatively feasible."
"Yeah, they are, especially when you're a higher ranking officer." Eli sighed, a hand to his forehead. "So you know you messed up...If you saw them again, would you ask them out?"
"I don't know, Lieutenant." Thrawn replied honestly. "I'll admit I miss their company. But I do not think they'd take me back after how I ended things."
Eli was silent for a long time. "They're on Eriadu, aren't they?"
Thrawn closed his eyes. At least the young man had caught on. "Their name was on the orders we received."
"Oh." Eli's brow furrowed, "But I thought Tarkin was the one - oh," his eyes went wide and his eyebrows shot clear to his hairline, "Oh no. You kriffed up."
Thrawn huffed. "I am aware, Eli."
"Breakout in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1." Just as the navigation officer finished their countdown, the bridge shook as the ship fell out of hyperspace and the viewport filled with the tranquil blue and white marble surface of Eriadu.
"Comms, hail Eriadu City." Thrawn called.
There was a moment where the bridge was filled with static but then the center console flickered to life and before both Thrawn and Eli stood a figure Eli vaguely recognized as the very person the two had been talking about.
"Good day, Admiral Thrawn." You greeted with a polite smile, your hands clasped primly behind your back. Eli spied a governor's plaque pinned to your chest. Clearly, you were doing well for yourself. "I appreciate your timeliness."
"We were fortunate enough to be close to the Seswanna sector when we received your summons, Governor Tarkin." Thrawn for his part sounded perfectly professional. But Eli could see his shoulders were unnaturally stiff.
"Fortunate indeed." You agreed. "The insurgents have grown bolder since I initially called for reinforcements. However, it is still safe in the capital and I know that Grand Moff Tarkin wishes to discuss our next moves in person. How soon can you be on the ground?" Eli was slightly taken aback by how direct you were being and he wasn't sure if that was just a defect of your station or the strained nature of yours and Thrawn's relationship.
"Lieutenant Vanto and I can be in Eriadu City within the hour, Governor."
As if just noticing him for the first time, your holographic eyes flicked to him and Eli could see some of the hardness leave your expression. At least you held no ill-will towards him. "Excellent," your gaze flicked back to Thrawn and your expression grew hard again, "I will be waiting for you in the space-port. Tarkin, out." Before Thrawn or Eli could say anything, you'd disconnected your com and your holographic self flickered into nothing.
"That could have gone worse." Eli huffed, sparing Thrawn a glance. The chiss man's face was tight, his expression almost pinched in a way Eli had never seen before.
"Yes," he finally sighed and Eli watched as his face fell back into the stoic expression the wild space man was more accustomed to seeing, "I suppose it could have." A beat passed and then without warning, Thrawn spun on his heel and began marching off of the bridge at a hard pace. "Come, Lieutenant," Thrawn's call spurred the brunette man to life and he raced to catch up, "best not keep the Governor waiting."
I know nothing about art. I tried my best to make this seem somewhat believable but I'm not an artist, nor will I ever be.
The "dates" I used were in the form of the 'Coruscant Reckoning Calendar' or C.R.C since the battle of Yavin hasn't happened yet and I hate BBY and ABY as in universe measures of time. However they aren't real dates I just threw random numbers into the format and hoped it looked semi believable
I am aware this is really derivative and I'm sorry in advance lmao
This is my first time writing Thrawn, and while I read copious amounts of Thrawn fanfic, I'm still nervous about how I write him so constrictive criticism is encouraged.
I hope y'all enjoy this, I had fun writing it. Been over a month since i wrote anything and it shows.
Rating: E (18+)
Word Count: 3800+
Warnings: Unprotected PiV, Oral (F receiving), the tiniest breeding kink if you squint and tilt your head sideways, Art
Masterlist
You looked around the halls of the Imperial Palace and sighed. These galas were boring, atrociously so. But alas, if you wished to maintain funding for your gallery you had to at least make an appearance, rub elbows with the Imperial elite, sweet talk some moderately intoxicated senator or delegate into agreeing that your program was in fact not a waste of credits, and was actually something that the Empire should foster. A civilization without the arts was barely a civilization at all. You sigh, swirling the obnoxiously expensive drink you have in your hand as you stare up at a large canvas painting on the walls of the hall.
Pre Republic era, oil on canvas, looks to be-
“Coruscanti in origin, an interesting blend of ancient human styles native to the planet with a Duros influence, I’d date it around 3591.39.5, what do you think?” as smooth, calculated voice drawls from beside you.
You hum in thought, as you continue looking up at the artwork. “Perhaps earlier, the dot work is absolutely indicative of Duros influences, maybe even around 2280.124.43, when Duros traders started using hyperspace routes to explore the galaxy and foster trade” you turn to face the mystery man and stiffen as you notice the crisp white uniform of a Grand Admiral, but perhaps even more intriguing was his cerulean blue skin, and more intriguing than that, his red eyes that glow softly.
Without taking his eyes off the painting he continues “an interesting theory, however, I would date it after that. The artist was obviously human, their style indicating that they grew up around humans, the brushwork is similar to most works of that period, however the Duros influence would indicate it would have been some time after Humans had made contact with other races. Humans of that era were exceptionally isolationist, their artwork reflects that, this piece shows of an artist who is comfortable with outsiders enough to incorporate them into their medium” the man takes another sip of his drink before turning to you, fixing you with those enchanting eyes “what do you think?”
You’re taken aback, this man, this Grand Admiral, knows what he’s talking about, in fact he may even know more than you about the topic, you scramble to think of something, anything to say. Your face heats up as you think back on human art and history from that era and realise, he’s right. You take a sip of your drink to steel your nerves, warmth flooding your cheeks that you hope he doesn’t notice as you turn back to the painting.
“I think you might be right; I forget about how isolationist humans were back then; it would have taken a long time before they would have taken on facets of other species art in their own” you say thoughtfully as you look up at the painting. It really was a beautiful piece of art. You look back at the stranger to find him also gazing up at the painting with a thoughtful look on his face. Perhaps this art enthusiast of a Grand Admiral was the person you were looking for this whole time? Steeling yourself again you turn and give him your name.
“I curate the Royal Imperial Gallery here on Coruscant, a pleasure to make your acquaintance” You incline your head respectfully as he turns to face you again.
“Grand Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo, however you may call me Thrawn, and I am aware of who you are” Thrawn takes another sip of his drink as he turns his gaze back up to the painting. You eye him curiously as he drinks, his throat bobbing as he swallows and turns back to you.
“You do?” your tone slightly more accusatory than you wanted it to be, Imperial Grand Admirals tended to be the types of people who rallied against your requests for more funding, claiming that the money could be better spent on the Imperial Navy or the Stormtrooper Corps.
Thrawn’s mouth quirks slightly, as if he were attempting to stifle a smile before he speaks again, his voice low “Of course, I am a regular at your institution, I also appreciate your holo galleries so that I may appreciate new instillations while I am away on long campaigns. It is obviously, a crude imitation of having the original piece in front of me, but I will make do with what I can” he eyes you seriously. “I especially appreciated your most recent display of Pantoran tapestries. Pantora is a hub of so many different species and cultures, their art always provides an interesting challenge to see what visiting species influenced what pieces”.
You stare at him wide eyed as he speaks, this man, this Grand Admiral, was an art enjoyer, no an art enthusiast. Perhaps this meeting was destined, perhaps he was the one who would help you retain funding for your gallery before it was all syphoned off and spent on warfare. You open your mouth to speak but it’s like he could read your mind. “I have already spoken with the Emperor, he agrees with me that maintaining the fine arts is important for any society. Your funding is secure” he turns back towards the painting and takes another sip of his drink.
He spoke to the Emperor himself? And the Emperor himself agreed to maintain your funding? Your head was spinning. This is not at all what you expected when you came here tonight, you were expecting to have to plead your case to stuffy senators and businesspeople for them to even consider the possibility that your gallery was worth it. You shake your head as you realise you’ve been staring at him in stunned silence for longer than what would be considered polite. “I… Thank you Grand Admiral. That is… that is wonderful news” you fight to keep the emotions out of your voice, finishing your drink quickly “I don’t know how I can repay you” his lip quirks again in that almost smile before he too finishes his drink.
“No thanks is necessary, and please call me Thrawn, although I would love to hear about what new instillations you are planning for the gallery in the coming months, I have some time planetside and would be remiss to not attend a new display should you be preparing anything exciting” he waves over a serving droid as he talks and takes two more glasses of the overly expensive amber liquid, offering you one which you politely accept before he takes a sip of his.
And just like that, the hours melt away as you walk with Thrawn around the hall, speaking quietly to one another about the intricacies of the art hanging on the walls, from paintings to tapestries to the small statues lining the hall, Thrawn had something to say about all of it. For a military man, he was very, very well educated.
And very, very handsome.
You shake your head as you finish your drink, maybe you have had one too many glasses of Chandrillan Sweet Wine you think to yourself as Thrawn continues speaking about the techniques used to weave a particularly intricate tapestry the two of you were standing in front of. You wanted to listen to him, you really did, but watching the way his lips wrapped themselves around the words he was speaking combined with the melodic sound of his voice had your mind wandering to places that could be considered vastly unprofessional.
As if sensing your fleeting attention to what he was saying he turns to face you, raising a single eyebrow as his lips quirked once again in a ghost of a smile. “Apologies my lady, I do tend to get ahead of myself when discussing art, if you wish to take your leave I will not be offended” you falter slightly because no, you don’t want to leave, you could spend forever listening to his peculiar accent and you rack your brain for something that would keep him in your presence. So, you decide to take a small risk.
“No Thrawn, not at all, in fact I was just wondering if you would perhaps like to join me for a small excursion to the gallery. I could give you a sneak peek of the next exhibition we will be opening in the coming weeks, provided traditional Rodian woodwork is a topic you would be interested in?” you say hopefully, willing the heat away from your cheeks as you place your empty glass on a passing serving droid.
He smiles this time, not just a slight movement of his lips, but a genuine smile that has your heart beating slightly faster and your face burning. He too places his glass on a passing droid and gestures with his hand towards the door. “Lead the way”
The speeder ride towards the gallery is quiet, the lights of Coruscant illuminating the cab as the pilot droid takes you both towards the gallery. You shift in your seat, gazing at his profile from the corner of your eye. His long nose and pronounced cheek bones illuminated by the slight glow of his eyes. You wish you could think of something to say as you fiddle with the hem of your dress, but he doesn’t seem to mind the silence, in fact he seems to be the type that enjoys comfortable silence over inane small talk, so you keep your lips sealed, willing yourself to stop acting like a blushing schoolgirl as the cab stops in front of the gallery.
The gallery is dark, quiet, giving it an almost eerie quality as you walk through the halls, you unlock the door to your office and step to the side to allow Thrawn through, turning on the lights to reveal a small room, a moderately sized desk with a few shelves and a window that looks over the city.
“We haven’t gotten all the pieces yet, so this is only a taste of the style of art we will be displaying soon” you unlock another door that leads to a storeroom, pulling on some gloves, passing him a pair and grabbing a few of the intricately carved wooden sculptures to show the Grand Admiral. He takes them off you and studies them closely, his intense eyes scanning over every detail of the wood before moving over to another sculpture, then another. At the last sculpture he pauses, studying it even more intently than the others before looking up at you. “Do you know the importance of this piece?” he inquires as he holds the small wooden figure towards you.
You take it off him, studying it closely, noting the ridges and bumps. Unfortunately, Rodian art and wood carvings in particular have never really been your area of expertise, although you have a feeling that you’re about to learn. “Unfortunately, Thrawn I am not very well versed in Rodian woodworking, I have a few on staff that would know more than I do” you place the statuettes back into the storeroom and lock the door before turning back to him only to find him looking at you intently.
“That particular sculpture is known as a ‘Prwiss’ it was used as part of a fertility ritual on Rodia centuries passed. The statue would be placed near the bed of the couple attempting to conceive as they partook in intercourse in order to increase the likelihood of fertilization” he explains evenly.
You feel heat rising to your cheeks. ‘Definitely too much wine’ you think to yourself. The words ‘intercourse’ and ‘fertilization’ shouldn’t have such a visceral effect on you. All you can think of is having such a statue over your own bed as Thrawn runs his large hands all over your body, as he thrusts in and out-
“Do you know of my species?” Thrawn asks suddenly. You shake your head, mouth dry as you respond “No… I don’t” his shoulders rise and fall slightly, something that could potentially indicate a chuckle from the stoic man.
“I am Chiss” he says slowly walking towards you “and being Chiss has many benefits” he continues approaching you, in any other context, you could almost compare his slow steps to a predator stalking its prey.
“My eyes for example, I am able to see things that humans cannot. Heat for example” he says as he stops directly in front of you. You blush again, a fact made worse now knowing he’s been able to see your blushing so clearly the entire night the two of you have been together. You swallow, not trusting your voice as he stares you down. You take an unconscious step backwards, Thrawn following you until the backs of your legs meet the solid material of your desk.
“At first I simply thought that you were flushed from the alcohol but… now I have come to a different conclusion” he leans his face closer to yours, you can feel his warm breath against your lips as he holds his lips above yours. A moment for you to back away should you not wish him to go further.
You stare into his bright eyes as your face warms further and heat pools between your legs. Would he be able to see that beneath the layers of your dress? Your thoughts are abruptly cut off as he places his lips over yours, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses you against your desk. You meet his lips in a passionate kiss, the heat from the night reaching a boiling point as he removes his gloves and places his hands on your hips, following his lead you do the same before tangling your hands in his soft hair.
After what feels like an eternity he pulls back, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss and a faint dusting of purple along his sharp cheekbones. He presses you further against your desk and you get the hint, moving some small items out of the way before sitting on the desk.
Thrawn attacks your lips again, a hunger present behind his movements as he situates himself between your legs, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he begins kissing along your jaw, down your neck. You gasp as you feel him suck a dark mark into the skin just above your collarbone, you tug at the soft strands of his hair eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest as he moves his hips against your core. You can feel a definite hardness in the front of his pristine while uniform pants as he moves his body against yours, dragging small sounds of pleasure out of you.
His hands begin moving all over your body, running up your sides around to your back where he begins unfastening your dress, his movements pausing for a moment as he looks at you. You answer his unspoken question with another fiery kiss as his hands work methodically behind you to unfasten your dress, letting it pool on the desk as he moves over towards your breasts. His long fingers tweaking and pinching at your nipples through the thin material of your bra as his other hand moves down your side to help totally remove the dress from you.
He pulls the dress over your head, pausing to haphazardly fold it and place it on your desk before his hands are all over you again. One runs along your thigh while the other expertly unclasps your bra, he pulls the fabric away from your body before moving his lips to your jaw and neck again. You move your hands to his hair again as he kisses down your neck towards your chest.
“Watching the blush crawl up your skin” he mumbles against your neck, voice husky “is truly the most beautiful thing in this entire gallery” he says before taking one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking, rolling the nub around his mouth, his tongue lathing over it. His tongue has an odd texture to it, you note, as he shifts his focus to your other breast, and you can’t help but wonder what that tongue would feel like against your clit. You arch into his touch as he kisses along your chest, lightly biting into the soft flesh, leaving dark marks against your skin as he slowly begins moving to his knees, kissing down your body as he goes, pausing at the fabric of your panties and placing a long passionate kiss on the damp fabric before he pulls the delicate material to the side and sinks his tongue into your cunt.
You moan, throwing your head back in bliss as he eats you like a man starved, lapping at your juices with fervour, your hands finding their way back into his soft hair as his tongue works magic against you. He alternates between rolling his tongue around your clit and shoving it as deep inside you as the muscle will go, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
You tug on his hair causing him to groan into you, the vibrations making your walls clench as he focuses extra attention on your clit and suddenly the wave of pleasure crests as you climax, your eyes screwed shut and hips moving on their own accord as you all but ride his face through the precipice of your orgasm.
As you come down you open your eyes and look down at him, noting the sound of flesh on flesh and the movement of his arm another white-hot wave of arousal runs down your spine as you realise, he’s stroking himself.
A Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy, on his knees in your office, touching himself while pleasing you with his mouth. The thought alone is almost enough to send you over the edge again.
His glowing red eyes look up at you, and he slowly stands from his position kneeling on the floor. You hold your breath as he rises, trying not to look too eager to get a look at what is between his legs. Do Chiss look like humans? Is he totally alien down there? Your eyes widen as your question is answered, despite the colour and a few, quite pleasurable looking, ridges, he looks remarkably human. Remarkably human and remarkably large.
The vision of the stoic Grand Admiral, still dressed in his white uniform with his trousers open and his rock-hard length on display is enough to make you lick your lips, your pussy clenching around nothing as fresh wave of arousal washes over you.
He takes himself in his hand, stroking himself a few times, placing the blunt head of his cock against your wet entrance before pausing. “A moment” he says as he looks around your office, retrieving your key card from the desk next to you before walking over to the storeroom and taking out the statue he had spoken about before and placing it on the desk next to you before taking his place between your legs at your entrance again.
He places both hands on your hips as he lines himself up with your slick cunt and slowly pushes inside of you. His uniformed chest rising and falling as he struggles to maintain his tenuous control over himself. The feeling of his girth stretching you open has you gritting your teeth, and screwing your eyes shut. Each ridge of his cock rubbing perfectly against every nerve making you see stars.
You’re both panting as he bottoms out, a low rumbling groan coming from deep in his chest as the feeling of your walls choking his length has him gritting his teeth as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, even deeper.
He lets out a hiss as he begins moving his hips, you resist the urge to close your eyes at the pleasure, wanting to watch each reaction you could earn from the usually pristine grand admiral. Watching the way his jaw clenches, the muscles around his neck tensing, the way his nostrils flare as he struggles to maintain his composure is like a drug to you.
You moan as his thrusts begin to become more forceful, the sound of flesh against flesh filling the confines of your office. He leans over your body, his lips finding yours again as his hips move with more purpose, harder and faster, the ridges of his girth causing you to cry out, his mouth swallowing your sounds as his pace continues to get more intense, more passionate.
He brings one of his hands down in between your bodies, his long, skilled fingers expertly finding your clit, drawing tight circles over it as he pounds relentlessly into you. The sensations becoming too much too quickly as another orgasm begins building in your core, your muscles tensing around him as your walls flutter and tighten, forcing his mouth to part from yours as he lets out a low moan of your name.
Hearing his voice, full of hunger and desperation moaning your name is what does it for you, pleasure cascades through your body as you wrap your arms around his back to ground you, the course texture of his uniform heightening the experience as wave after wave of pure ecstasy rips a harsh moan of his name from your lips.
His pace becomes even more forceful, his hips slamming almost painfully against yours as he chases his own high. His mouth finds your neck again, biting down as you feel his muscles tense, letting out a long low groan against your neck as he finishes inside you. You feel each throb and pulse of his cock as he fills you, his hips moving in short thrusts as he rides out his own high, his breathing ragged.
You both stay there, panting, bodies entwined as you come down. He gives you a long, passionate kiss before extracting himself, pulling out slowly, he looks down at your cunt, his cum slowly beginning to leak out of you and his mouth quirks again, into that ghost of a smile, like he’s proud of himself, before he moves your panties back into place and begins to straighten himself out.
You have no idea what to say as he tucks himself away and smooths his hair, after a short time, he looks immaculate yet again, barely a hair out of place, nor a crease on his uniform, meanwhile you look like well fucked mess, hickeys and love bites litter your neck and chest as you move off your desk on unstable legs to grab your bra and dress, you pause as you see the small statue, the ‘Pwriss’ as Thrawn had called it sitting on your desk. You blush as you move to put it away in the storeroom again.
Thrawn is standing, back straight as he looks at you from across your office, hands clasped behind his back. “I appreciate you taking the time to show me the artwork the gallery has to offer” he inclines his head politely “I’m glad the sculptures were to your liking” you smile at him as you redress.
“Oh yes, I suppose the sculptures were lovely too”.
Not tagging my usual Crosswhore taglist because IDK how many of you are interested in Thrawn, but I'm tagging some people I think might be interested. Let me know if you don't want me to tag you in the future.
