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bakutreats · 4 months

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matchmaking. bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

BAKUTREATS .ᐟ navi. bnha m.list. bakugou 'asot' m.list.

synopsis .ᐟ pro-hero dynamight likes to do one (1) type of pr event, and that's going to schools and talking with kids. when dynamight visits your twins' school, the twins hatch a "perfect" plan between dynamight—bakugou katsuki and you—their mother.

content .ᐟ fluffy, fluff, kids. fraternal twins, single mother!reader, older!reader, pro-hero!bakugou katsuki, ooc bakugou katsuki, flirty bakugou katsuki, shy reader lmao, marupok ka bai, reader is 33, bakugou is 27, extrenely self-indulgent hehe

word count .ᐟ 2.0k+

chapters .ᐟ one | two | three

tag list .ᐟ open! ask and you shall receive ^^

Bakugou Katsuki is usually not the biggest fan of anything related to public relations. He feels as though it's a waste of time trying to look good for the public, maintaining a spotless image and a fantastic reputation, just so that some random people will think positively of you. So what if they do? All he wants to do is be a damn hero. The other shit that's apparently needed to be done is extremely unnecessary in his eyes; sometimes it even feels fake.

But there is a silver lining.

The PR shit that his PR manager makes him do—he hates everything—except going to schools and talking with kids. Sure, they can be little brats, but kids are kids. They're usually more honest and upfront, not really caring about what other people think. The questions that the kids would ask would never be left unanswered (can't say the same for interviewers and reporters, though). This man is pretty honest with his answers too (though with some, he keeps them brief or vague).

So, on a random Wednesday, his PR manager (who finally caught on that he likes being around little gremlins more) told him that he'd be visiting a school around 10 AM. With events like these, it's always a surprise for the kids, because Bakugou absolutely forbids announcements of any kind, not wanting the kids' experience ruined by the paparazzi and rabid fans. The only ones who are informed are the school staff.

It's 10 AM, and Bakugou Katsuki waltzes into the school in his Pro-Hero costume. His PR manager and personal assistant were just right behind him. They met with the principal of the school, a small old lady with a soft smile on her face. She greeted them as well as thanked the Pro-Hero for giving some of his time to entertain the kids. She led them to the first classroom of the day, the old lady knocking on the door before stepping aside, gesturing for the Pro-Hero to stand in front of the door and wait for it to open.

The door opened, and he was greeted by a mature woman with a small smile on her face. "Class, someone's here to talk with you for a little bit. . ."

When Bakugou stepped inside the classroom, the kids immediately shrieked with happiness. Both boys and girls flail their arms wildly and stand up, some even kicking their seats in the process, to go and rush over to the explosive hero. Bakugou picked up one kid, a little boy with a wide, toothy grin on his face.

No one understood how Bakugou Katsuki and his extreme personality would have such patience and understanding with kids. He's rough and gruff, with an attitude that can either make you cower or want to try to fight him—and yet, here he is, standing front and center of a classroom with a rare smile on his face.

"I'm picking up the kids—I'm already at their school—Mina, we can talk about that condo later—why are you so excited. . . ?"

You walked briskly to where the playground area was in your kids' school, more focused on the conversation you were having with Mina, your cousin. You kept walking, seemingly in a sort of trance, or rather, muscle memory, because you've been doing the same routine since they started preschool. It's as if your legs had a mind of their own at this point. But something was amiss. You slow down when you realize there aren't any children playing around and laughing and screaming. Haruki and Harumi weren't there. Your heart skipped a beat.

Luckily for you, there was another mother who was walking away from the playground area, seemingly calm. She has a kid who's in the same classroom as your kids. You were about to walk towards her to ask what was going on when the woman took notice of you, noticing the panicked expression on your face. "Don't worry, dear, the kids are inside talking to a Pro-Hero. I've been informed by a friend of mine who's already inside the school. Our kids are in the same class as hers; they're fine."

Relief washed over you, your shoulders releasing some of the tension they've been holding since your realization and your assumption (though no one can blame you). You nodded and smiled, mouthing a 'thank you' before walking as fast as you could to the entrance of the school.

You opened the double doors of the school, looking left and right before pausing for a moment. You walked straight ahead before turning left, your eyebrows raised in slight surprise when you saw parents gossiping in (somewhat) hushed voices. You heard the words 'Pro' and 'Hero', along with the name.

'Dynamight'.

You couldn't help but slow down, listening to the mothers and fathers gossiping about the Number 2 Pro-Hero. They talked about how surprisingly calm he is around children, how he answers whatever question he throws at them, and how he would even smile sometimes. You make a quiet sound of amusement before going back to your task at hand: seeing if your kids are really inside their classroom.

Lo and behold, there they were. Haruki and Harumi stood tall and proud, shouting out their names to the Number 2 Pro-Hero, Dynamight.

"What're yer names?" he asks the two kids, who were standing with determined expressions on their faces.

"Haruki!"

"Harumi!"

They shouted their names with bright, wide eyes that looked as if they were sparkling, their cheery tones making Bakugou chuckle. "We're twins!" Harumi linked her arm around her brother's, eyes closed as she smiled wide at the blond.

"Yeah, twins!"

Bakugou leaned back against the back of the chair their teacher provided for him, crossing his arms on his chest, his foot tapping the tiled floor. "Whaddaya wanna talk 'bout, squirts?" he hunched over, uncrossing his arms and clasping his hands together. The twins looked at each other as though they were communicating with one another, their brows slightly furrowed, like they were serious and focused. They looked towards Bakugou, who was waiting patiently for them to come up with their questions—

"Are you married!?"

Bakugou was taken aback, his eyes widening slightly as he raised his brows. It wasn't the first time he was asked this question, but it always got him. Kids usually ask about his fights and his quirk, even wanting a little demonstration of how he controls it so well. The very, very few kids who ask this question are either extremely curious or have a crush on him.

"Nope."

Just like that, the twins had huge grins on their faces, nodding to one another before facing the Pro-Hero. Bakugou quirked an eyebrow, straightening his posture and crossing his arms once more. They looked like they were planning something. Haruki and Harumi walked away from their seats, their focus on the door. "Where are you going, kids?" their teacher asked, confused but also curious. She's known them for a few months now, and in those few months, she's learned that these twins always had a knack for stirring up some chaos.

When the teacher opened the door, Harumi bowed before peeking outside and looking left and right to see if their mother was there. Harumi's face brightened when she saw you, and she immediately rushed towards you. Haruki followed afterwards, giggling loudly. "Mama!"

You stumble when you catch them, giggling as they hug you tightly. Before you could ask them if they were okay, though, they immediately grabbed your hands and turned their heads facing the opposite of you, pulling you towards the classroom. Your eyes widened as your affectionate expression turned into a more confused one. "Hey, what's going on?" you ask them gently. They turn their heads back to face you, innocent-looking smiles on their faces. But you know better; they're your children, after all. You knew they were up to something; the smiles on their faces and the shine in their eyes were already a dead giveaway.

And well, since you know them like the back of your hand, that also means they will absolutely not relent on taking you into their classroom. You sigh in defeat, letting them drag you over to their classroom in giddy excitement. When you finally enter the classroom, your eyes immediately lock with Bakugou Katsuki's scarlet eyes. They were so intense and full of fire. You see him eye you up and down before maintaining eye contact once again. Oh. . .

"Marry our mom!"

Your attention snapped away from Bakugou and went to the twins, who were grinning as if they had just made a perfect match of a couple. "Haruki! Harumi!" you scolded, although you couldn't really scold them properly, not when you're all flustered and embarrassed and ohmygod—

Dynamight was laughing—Bakugou Katsuki was laughing. You don't know if you should be honored or even more embarrassed than before. The twins were giggling themselves. You were just standing there, in front of a lot of kids, their teacher, the school's principal, and the parents, just outside the classroom—

"You squirts want me to be yer mama's husband?" He asks with a smirk on his face.

"YEAH!"

"Kids!"

Now you were embarrassed to the third power, good lord.

After that whole fiasco, you retreated back outside the classroom, your head hanging low. The parents were all teasing you to hell and back, and all you could do was cross your arms and grumble incoherent words. When the whole event was done, you wanted to wait for the Pro-Hero to apologize. All of the kids and their parents were mostly gone now, leaving only you and your twins, waiting outside the school, sitting on one of the benches.

You were a little nervous, though. It's not exactly every day you could meet a Pro-Hero in the higher ranks, much less the Number 2 Pro-Hero. It's also not exactly every day you lock eyes with someone so intense and handsome—oh god, no, stop.

"Why're you three still're?"

Your head turns in the direction of the voice, and you start to feel all flustered and embarrassed again. You stood up and walked over to him, trying to maintain eye contact but failing miserably. "I wanted to wait for you to apologize. . . my kids can be too much sometimes—" you cut yourself off when you realized how close in proximity the two of you were. Did he walk closer without you noticing. . ? Or did you walk too close. . . Oh, great, you're even more nervous now.

"And. . . um, thank you for uh—thanks for doin' this for the uh. . . kids, yeah."

You hear him chuckle, and it makes you feel fuzzy. 'Oh my god, what's going on with me!? Why am I acting like such a teenager who's freaking out over their crush!? This is crazy. . .'Sure, you've had your fair share of crushes on Pro-Heroes before, but this was the first time you felt like a schoolgirl trying to have a nice conversation with her crush.

You snap out of your thoughts, with his fingers snapping in front of you and his face right in front of yours.

"Don't be sorry 'bout the kids. It was cute," he tells you, his voice deep.

Bakugou catches the twins out of the corner of his eye, trying to keep their laughter down and their hands on their mouths. He smiles softly before returning his attention to you. "Besides, 's not a bad suggestion."

"W-what?"

"Marryin' ya."

The kids shriek and squeal, running towards the both of you. They spin around yours and Bakugou's legs, intentionally making the space smaller and smaller and. . . oof!

"Yer kids are pretty good with the whole matchmakin' thing, huh?"

Your hands were on his chest, and his hands were on your waist. You already experienced their matchmaking thing before, although they would never go to this extent. You concluded that they were more adamant about Bakugou being with you because, well, he's Dynamight.

"I'm thirty-three. . ."

"So? I'm twenty-seven."

"You're actually considering it."

He flashes you a toothy grin. "You bet I am."

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shuideyuer1113 · 2 years

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Maintain campus cleanliness Reject Yan Limon for Perelman Medical College

#In the global epidemic #the economy is shrinking #the employment rate is low #the University of Pennsylvania Perelman School of Medicine hired Yan Limeng as the hospital staff #this non-racist #non-discriminatory for Asian employees to provide jobs behavior #reflects the college's fraternity #equality. But the Perelman School of Medicine in the hiring of like-minded employees #it is time to consider the maintenance of campus cleanliness as the first task #reject Yan Limeng on stage to join the medical school.

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dushengli · 2 years

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manyrandomfandoms · 1 month

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tw: brief mentions of miscarriage and suicide attempt

the dichotomy of the level of stakes in each episode of Downton Abbey will always be funny to me. Some episodes are like

“Thomas is on the brink of being fired for being gay”

“it’s the actual World War I”

“Sybil could very well die in childbirth”

“Bates has been arrested for a murder he didn’t commit”

“one of the staff caused a MISCARRIAGE of someone from Upstairs”

“Thomas has been found half dead in a self-inflicted bloody bathtub”

And then other episodes are like

“Will Carson let the staff go to the town fair”

“who will win the flower competition”

“The cooks dropped the chicken on the floor”

“Sybil is wearing pants”

“Branson is still fraternizing with the Downstairs”

#The stakes of Downton Abbey #Makes me laugh when I think about it #‘Cause you know you’re just as invested at the flower competition as you are at the war #Downton abbey #thomas barrow #sybil crawley #mr carson #tom branson #mr bates

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faetreides · 1 month

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Modern coryo whos trying to sorta maybe manipulate his gf by being obsessed and then not reading her texts for 3 days but the gf is literally the same so it’ll be like

r: “heyyy” and then a day later he replies “heyaaa” and then it goes on like that for a week until he cracks and sends her 15 messages in the span of 4 minutes

cw: feminization/fem label “gf” but the reader is still only intended to be afab, the ask has she/her pronouns but i don’t use them in the writing, manipulation and toxic behavior, typical coryo/modern!coryo warnings, love bombing, not canon to the main au, black cat reader ish, reader has a shower in their dorm bc i say so 🤫, male masturbation

Now Coryo wouldn’t do this during your relationship, despite his best attempts to play it cool, you make him panic and he’s immediately resorting to rich boy love bombing (trips, those ridiculously expensive boxed roses, 999999999 rounds of oral on his yacht, a summer house, etc.) followed by baby trapping. He’s not stupid enough to try something like that deeper into your relationship, for him it’s about making sure the foundation is as solid as possible and not shaking it up.

This would really only happen before you even start dating, after he’s bumped into you in the dorms enough times to wear you down into giving him your number. He’s still in his “i have to the most mysterious person alive” mindset and he hasn’t quite shed the fuckboy persona yet. He doesn’t seek anybody out or anything, it was love at first sight with you unfortunately, he’ll just imply that that you’re another contact in a long list. (You’re the only one in his favorites 💀)

You’re smart enough to be wary, too involved in academics and proving yourself to go sniffing around Coriolanus Snow. You don’t really talk to a lot of people, and you’re not interested in a swarm of meaningless interactions. You’re just grateful that he stopped calling you so much, learning that you very much prefer texting. He’s the king of the “hey u up?” text, and you have the flattest look on your face as you reply “Yes.” and turn your phone face down. Exchanges like happen over and over.

Does your heart flutter when he insists on walking you to class and pecking your cheek at the door? Yes but you’ll roll your eyes and make a big deal out of wiping it off. Are you intrigued by how much he hauls ass to get you your coffee order whenever he senses that you need it (because he can, he’s like spiderman but lame)? Well, yes, but he must be playing some kind of game with you. Has a cliche bet with his fraternity brothers over your assumed virginity maybe. The more you’re determined to not fall for it, the more you find yourself slipping as the days go by.

Just when you turn your head when he pecks your cheek outside the lecture hall, expecting the gesture more than dreading it, he gives you a blank stare and turns on his heel. You take a second to blink and then shrug, it’s no skin off you back if Coriolanus decides to be normal for once. You definitely do not have a bit of a scowl throughout the entire session. (he nearly lost it when you didn’t react at the lack of a kiss, he kicked the wall and almost broke his foot)

He’s back to the “heyy” texts at random hours, responding to your “Hey.” that came a day later two days after that. He’s screaming into his pillow and pacing his grandma’am’s gardens, glaring at the staff pruning the shrubs. Coryo would rather die than admit defeat though, so he hardens his resolve. You’ll break eventually. You on the other hand are living normally, slurping ramen and working on essays. You’ve learned not get your hopes up over a pipe dream, the idea that someone like him would genuinely care about you being so laughable that you get over it rather quickly. You may be from different economic classes, but a man’s attention is never a necessity. That an he’s far from the only trust fund kid in the world.

A week later, your phone goes off in the middle of the night. You step out of the shower and dry yourself off, walking over to your bed and picking it up. To your surprise, the notification from Coriolanus isn’t another dry message, it’s several videos. They all look dark and fuzzy, ranging from 30 seconds to 10 minutes. In some of the thumbnails you can see flashes of bare skin. You click on the first one and are immediately faces with Coriolanus Snow’s sweaty abs.

You’re frozen as he eventually splatters jizz all over them, the camera work is shaky and the flash exposes too much for your liking. You can see his abdominal muscles twitch in the aftermath of his orgasm. He drags his fingers through his own cum and smears it over the camera, giving you a pov of what it’d be like to have your face covered in it.

Your phone chimes again.

Stalker: turn the sound on for the rest ;) see u at the car wash next friday, babe ❤️

You block him (after you save the videos and check the charge on your vibrator).

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lokischocolatefountain · 4 months

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Javier Peña Masterlist

Series

Married!Javi

Description: A collection of chapters where I reimagine local slut Javier Peña as a married man. My most popular series. Can be read out of order as one-shots. Full of fluff, smut, and angst.

Fraternize

(Congressman!Javi x Congresswoman!Reader)

Description: It was an open secret in Washington D.C. that Javier Peña, Congressman from Texas found her absolutely infuriating. Everyone had, at least once in their time in Congress, witnessed them bickering in the hallways, the staircase, committee rooms, outside the restroom over policy. It would be such a scandal if they found out what the two members of congress did behind closed doors to find common ground. Holdout Summary: Sometimes it was better to talk face to face than to send his lackeys to speak for him. And who knows? Maybe he’ll get a sweet deal out of it. If nothing else, she was at least a good time. Word count: 4.5k

Red Tape, Red Line

(Post Season 3 Javi x State Department Staff Reader)

Description: He’d won. Or at least that was what the ambassador had said. It was hard to feel victorious when crushed under the boot of DC bureaucracy. The job wouldn’t be finished. Not until the hearings ended. Not until he got key informants out. With his old friend nestled high up in bureaucracy, he wouldn’t complain if he got some help crossing the red tape. He sure wouldn’t complain if, in the process, they crossed some red lines. For Old Time's Sake Summary: Javier runs into an old friend in DC. Word Count: 3.4k

One-shot

I Know

Summary: They knew they shouldn’t. It was vile, it would be a betrayal. But God, they couldn’t stop themselves. Word count: 3.3k

Whiskey and Wine

Summary: He drank whiskey and she drank wine. After years of offering her the wrong drink, Javier finally buys her the right one. Word count: 4.4k

Seven

Summary: You and Javi discuss children Word count: 0.6k

Gif inspired Drabble

Summary: Javier anxiously awaits your arrival Word count: 0.6k

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onlyonetifosi · 10 months

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Behind the camera -> Prologue

"Maman, Papa, you promised to tell me something special today," Lorenzo said, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Pascale exchanged a loving glance with Hervé and then smiled at their eager son. "Well, Lorenzo, you are going to be a big brother," she announced, her voice brimming with joy.

Lorenzo's face lit up with delight. "Really? I'm going to have a little brother or sister?" he asked, hardly able to contain his excitement.

Pascale laughed gently and nodded. "Actually, you're going to have both! You're going to be a big brother of twins!"

"Des jumeaux?! Deux frères ou deux sœurs?" Lorenzo asked, his French flowing naturally as he processed the news. (Twins?! Two brothers or two sisters?)

Hervé grinned. "Un frère et une sœur" he replied. {One brother and one sister}

Lorenzo's eyes widened even more, realizing he was going to have a brother and a sister. "C'est incroyable!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around his parents' necks in a tight hug (This is incredible!)

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

Over the next few months, Pascale's pregnancy progressed beautifully, but with the joy of having twins came the challenges of carrying two babies at once. She experienced intense cravings, sometimes even at odd hours of the night.

"Maman, you want pickles and ice cream for breakfast?!" Lorenzo chuckled one morning as he found his mother raiding the fridge.

She grinned sheepishly. "It's the babies, they're making me crave all sorts of things," she explained, trying to balance a jar of pickles and a tub of ice cream in her hands.

As the due date approached, Pascale's anticipation mingled with nervousness. Her pregnancy had been more tiring than the first time she carried Lorenzo, and giving birth to twins presented its own set of challenges

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The day had finally arrived - October 16th, a day that would forever change the lives of the Leclerc family. Pascale, the expectant mother, was lying in her hospital bed, surrounded by her husband Hervé and their eldest son Lorenzo. The anticipation in the air was palpable as they eagerly awaited the arrival of the newest additions to their family

Inside the delivery room, the medical team prepared for the unique challenge that lay ahead. Pascale's pregnancy had been a rollercoaster, and as the time approached, the doctors were on high alert. The twins were fraternal, but it had become evident during the course of the pregnancy that they were different in more than just their gender. Yn, the youngest, had been nestled lower in her mother's womb, making her delivery more complicated.

Meanwhile, Lorenzo was staying with Philippe Bianchi and his family, a friend of his dad. Jules, who was now eight years old, was Lorenzo’s best friend and Charles’ future godfather. The two boys eagerly waited for news of the twins' arrival.

"Do you think they'll be okay, Jules?" Lorenzo asked, his eyes filled with concern.

Jules patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Of course, they will! Your maman and papa are strong, and the doctors are taking good care of them. We'll get to meet the babies soon!"

As the clock struck noon, the contractions intensified, and Pascale's grip on Hervé's hand tightened. "Ça fait mal," she said, her face contorting with pain (It hurts)

Hervé, trying to be the supportive husband he always was, replied, "Tout va bien se passer, mon amour. Les médecins sont là pour nous aider." (Everything will be fine, my love. The doctors are here to help us.)

In the Bianchi house, Lorenzo was pacing back and forth, his nerves getting the better of him. He was excited about having siblings, but the thought of being responsible for two new lives made him feel a mix of emotions. He glanced at his father, who was trying his best to reassure him with a smile.

Back in the delivery room, Pascale was giving it her all. The medical staff encouraged her, "Vous faites du bon travail, Madame Leclerc. Bientôt, vos bébés seront là" (You're doing a great job, Mrs. Leclerc. Soon, your babies will be here)

After what felt like an eternity, the moment had arrived. The first cries of a baby filled the room. Charles had made his entrance into the world. Relief washed over Pascale, and tears welled up in Hervé's eyes as he saw his son for the first time.

The medical team continued to work efficiently, and soon, both babies were cleaned and swaddled in warm blankets. Hervé and Lorenzo were allowed into the room to meet the newest members of their family.

The moment Hervé and Pascale laid eyes on their newborn twins, tears of joy streamed down their cheeks. Pascale whispered softly in French, "Ils sont tellement beaux, nos bébés." (They are so beautiful, our babies.)

Hervé kissed her forehead and replied, "Oui, ils le sont, mon amour. (Yes, they are, my love.) Our little miracles."

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The next day, with the newborn twins cradled in Pascale's arms, Lorenzo entered the hospital room, his excitement palpable. He approached the bed, looking down at his new siblings with awe.

"Hey, little ones," he said softly. "Je suis ton grand frère Lorenzo {I am your big brother Lorenzo} They're so tiny!" he exclaimed, carefully touching Yn's tiny hand and then Charles’

Hervé smiled proudly and placed an arm around Lorenzo's shoulders. "Yes, they are. Meet your baby brother, Charles, and your baby sister, Yn"

"Charles et Yn?" Lorenzo repeated their names with a hint of wonder in his voice

"Yes, Charles and Yn," Pascale said, her eyes shining with joy

"Maman, they're adorable!" Lorenzo said, beaming at his mother. "I promise to be the best big brother ever!"

Tears of joy welled up in Pascale's eyes as she pulled her son into a warm embrace. "You already are, mon chéri. I know you'll be an amazing big brother to them"

The Leclerc family was overjoyed with the new additions. News of the twins' arrival spread quickly, and soon the hospital room was filled with family members eager to meet the newest additions. Uncles, aunts, and cousins showered the twins with love and affection, while their grandparents couldn't stop beaming with pride.

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Jules, the godfather, was ecstatic when he finally got to meet the twins. He bent down and kissed their foreheads gently, promising to protect them and be the best godfather he could be.

Jules Bianchi, Charles' godfather, was only eight years old, but he felt incredibly responsible and honored to be given such an important role. When he heard the news, he rushed to the hospital with a small gift in hand. "Bienvenue, les petits! Je suis votre parrain, Jules." (Welcome, little ones! I'm your godfather, Jules.)

The room filled with laughter and joy as everyone celebrated the arrival of the twins. Yn and Charles were already surrounded by an immense amount of love from their family and friends.

As the days turned into weeks, and the twins grew, their bond with Lorenzo strengthened. They had an unbreakable connection as the Leclerc siblings, and the world was eager to see the adventures that awaited them.

#charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #arthur leclerc imagine #behind the camera fic #charles leclerc x sister!reader #arthur leclerc x sister!reader #f1 drivers x reader #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f2 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #charles leclerc

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dystopicjumpsuit · 4 months

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The Night Before Someday

A/N: Happy (slightly belated) birthday to my dearest @wings-and-beskar! I wrote you some smut. 💛

Pairing: Cody x Reader (GN)

Rating: M - Minors DNI

Wordcount: 1.6K

Warnings and tags: fluff; roofies mentioned in passing; somebody other than Cody tries to hit on you; SMUT; oral sex; teasing; minor dom/sub dynamics; orgasm delay; established secret/forbidden relationship.

Summary: Did you read “Someday” and feel a burning desire to know what happened the night before? Look no further! This is that fic.

Suggested listening:

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

79’s was hot, loud, and crowded. The heavy beat of dance music pulsated through the dense, smoky air of the club. The 212th was on shore leave, and you could swear that all 42,000 troopers in the battalion were currently either in line for the bar or grinding on the dance floor. You weren’t the only nat-born officer in the place, but you still stood out in the sea of clones, and every so often a drunken trooper would hoot your name or cheer raucously as you passed.

The energy was frenetic. To tell the truth, dance clubs weren’t really your usual scene, but it was the first night of leave, and it was expected that the senior command staff would put in an appearance. It wasn’t so bad, though; the troopers were rowdy but unfailingly respectful, and as you headed back to your table after braving the line at the bar for a refill, one of your very favorite trios found you and pulled you inexorably into their orbit.

“Didn’t think we’d see you here tonight, Major,” Wooley said as he slung his arm over your shoulders with an easy (if somewhat wobbly) smile.

“Why not?” you asked.

“Figured you’d have somethin’ better to do than hang out with the same faces you see all day every day,” Waxer grinned.

“What could possibly be better than this?” you asked, gesturing at the sticky, sweaty crowd.

“Probably just about any nat-born cantina,” Boil replied.

“Oh, we have more than our share of shitty dives,” you replied. “Plus my chances of having my drink roofied are probably lower here than just about any bar in the galaxy.”

“‘Specially with us watching your back,” Wooley said. He was slurring his words a bit, and his arm was ridiculously heavy on your shoulders, but you had a feeling his night was just getting started.

“Surprised you aren’t at the table with the rest of the command staff,” Boil remarked.

“I was on my way back when you waylaid me,” you laughed.

“Eh, we’re more fun anyway,” Waxer said with a charming smile.

Privately, you couldn’t help but agree, not that you would ever, ever say it out loud. Waxer, Boil, and Wooley didn’t have to worry about presenting a dignified facade the way the senior officers—including you—did.

You drew a breath to reply, and suddenly, a Mirialan tripped and stumbled into you. She righted herself quickly, apologizing profusely in an Outer-Rim trade language. You replied fluently in the same language, reassuring her and asking if she was all right. She nodded and excused herself quickly, and as she left, you checked to make sure she hadn’t swiped your credits.

“Kriff, it’s hot when you do that,” Wooley said, leaning a little closer to your ear.

“What, check to make sure someone didn’t rip me off?” you laughed.

“No, when you speak Sy Bisti or whatever that was,” he replied.

“Meese Caulf,” you said.

“I don’t know how the commander keeps his hands off you when you’re translating for him,” Wooley said a little over-loudly.

Yeah, he’s definitely had enough to drink, you thought.

If you were honest, you liked Wooley just fine. He was sweet and funny, he had great hair, and he looked like… well… a clone trooper. Enough said. You might have considered reciprocating his interest if it weren’t for two very important factors. One: you outranked him by several degrees, and you’d have felt weird about it even if it weren’t officially forbidden for you to fraternize with him. Ironic, all things considered.

Two—

“Because I don’t fancy a court martial, and I suspect the major doesn’t either, so I’d suggest you keep your hands to yourself,” a voice said from just behind you.

His tone was mild, but all four of you snapped to attention instinctively, and Wooley dropped his arm and put several inches in between himself and you for good measure.

“Yes, sir! Sorry, sir,” Wooley said sheepishly.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to,” Commander Cody replied.

“Er, sorry, Major,” Wooley mumbled.

You kept a perfectly straight face as you reassured Wooley, then extricated yourself from the group and made your way back to the command staff’s table with Cody.

Once you were out of earshot, you asked, “Court martial? Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?”

Cody arched a quizzical brow. “Just looking out for my officers.”

“Careful, Commander. People might start thinking you have an interest beyond strict professionalism.”

Under the guise of steering you around a group of rowdy, drunken troopers, Cody rested his hand on your lower back, and you felt his fingertips graze your bare skin, just beneath the hem of your shirt.

“We can’t have that,” he murmured. He leaned in slightly to whisper in your ear. “I wish I could dance with you.”

You suppressed a smile. “How much longer do we need to keep up this charade before we sneak back to my flat?”

“One more drink ought to do it,” he said.

You glanced down at your cocktail. “Mine’s already half gone. I’ll leave first so nobody suspects.”

“You know, Wooley was right about one thing. You are hot as kriff.” He pressed his fingers into your back gently, then withdrew his hand as you approached the table where the rest of the senior command waited. “Door code still the same?”

“Always.”

You were in the kitchen chugging the galaxy’s largest glass of water when you heard the front door swish open. By the time it closed again, you were already in Cody's arms. As your lips met, he picked you up and spun you around until you shrieked with laughter. When he set you down, he held you steady until you regained your footing, then slid his hand up your back to hold your head as he leaned his forehead against yours and took a deep, slow breath in and out.

“Hello,” you smiled.

“Hello,” he replied. “I missed you.”

“It's only been an hour,” you pointed out.

“An eternity.” He kissed along your jaw until he reached your ear, whispering, “A lifetime.”

You shivered as his breath tingled across your skin. “Welcome home.”

A quiet rumble of pleasure sounded in his chest at your words. “Let's go to bed.”

“Tired?” you teased.

He slid his hands down your body to grip your ass, pulling you hard against him. “Not even a little bit.”

That’s a kriffing lie, you thought, knowing exactly how busy and exhausted he was, but you weren’t about to call him on it when his lips tasted so perfect, and his body felt so strong and solid and warm, and his hands roamed over you, touching and teasing and exploring. You didn’t even notice that he was expertly guiding you backward through your flat until he leaned you slowly back onto your mattress.

“Excellent diversionary tactics, Commander,” you said as he kissed down your throat and sternum, deftly unbuttoning your top as he progressed.

“Mm,” he murmured, unzipping your trousers and sliding them down your hips. “That’s Marshal Commander.”

Your laugh turned into a gasp as he tugged your underwear out of the way and his tongue caressed your skin.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he whispered, gazing up your body as he stroked his fingers over you softly. He trailed kisses down your pelvis and swirled his tongue over your sex. “I could never taste you enough.”

Oh, gods, but he tried. He devoured you with all the skill and passion of a man deprived too long. He took his time, luxuriating in your smooth skin, your warmth, your scent, your taste, your quiet moans, your desperate whimpers, your frantic squirming beneath his lovely mouth.

Ever the strategist, he used every tool at his disposal in his relentless pursuit of your pleasure: fingers, tongue, lips—even his teeth: grazing them gently across your tender flesh, then smoothing his tongue over you in soft, comforting strokes. He drew you closer and closer to your climax, refusing to hurry, even when your whimpers and moans gave way to pleading and sobbing as heat pulsed relentlessly through your veins, so close: so close, and yet just out of reach.

And then—he stopped.

You nearly screamed in frustration. “Damn it, Cody!”

“Manners,” he chided.

You growled. “I am going to get revenge for this.”

“I have no doubt,” he replied, kissing you softly and then brushing his thumb over his swollen lips. “Now ask nicely.”

You gritted your teeth and took a deep breath. “Please, sir, will you let me come?”

He gave you a devilish smile and lowered his head back down to your body, devouring you with renewed enthusiasm, and within seconds, he brought you to the precipice.

“Please, please, please,” you chanted.

He groaned, a deep, gravelly sound that vibrated on your skin, and with a dexterous movement of his fingers, he pushed you over the edge. You let out a hoarse cry, for once not concerned about keeping your volume down, as your hips thrust up off the mattress. He pressed you back down as he kept going, eagerly taking everything you had to give, until you were twitching and writhing helplessly beneath him.

At last, when he’d wrung every last drop of pleasure from your body, you fell back, breathing hard as you slowly relaxed against the pillows. He looked up at you with a self-satisfied grin, and you narrowed your eyes vindictively. Wrapping your legs around him, you flipped both of you over so he was lying on his back beneath you, gazing up at you with blatant adoration.

“My turn,” you murmured.

Didn't read "Someday"? It's here, and it's fluffy as hell!

#the door code is 2224 #commander cody #commander cody x reader #cody x reader #star wars #the clone wars #sw tcw fanfic #clone wars fanfic #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

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sepublic · 6 months

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Expanding on my Irish Clawthorne reading; That just adds to the whole story and the colonialism aspect and how the Wittebanes are of British descent, and the British colonized the Irish while declaring them 'savages' and the like, sound familiar?

Big orange hair is such a thing for the family; Eda's hair can store objects in it, Lilith's was curly. And I dunno just; It's not just the angle of white folk colonizing America, it's also the Irish and we have Caleb learning to love Evelyn, whom people like to portray with orange hair. The consensus is that Dell, a ginger, is their direct descendant.

So there's also something to be said about Lilith as someone who was made to assimilate; In the Emperor's Coven, she was deliberately cut off from her family. She was 'taken in' by an older relative ashamed of his brother's fraternizing, who resented Lilith on multiple levels for her identity and for eventually scarring his face (in retaliation to manipulation and attempted murder).

Lilith was so blatantly abused in the Emperor's Coven, and there's a sick joke in how she wanted to be a historian, yet was made subordinate to Flora, who bastardized history on Belos' order, and also belittled Lilith. Lilith was constantly made to feel inferior and with how she was always more of a desk job than a field agent, unlike the coven heads, and it really feels like she was elected as a stunt, a prop to show off with; Look, see! Even a common wild witch like Lilith can rise to the top!

But Lilith still had to assimilate, she had to conform; People like her can still fit under the coven banner, so long as they fit the mold and cut away those 'ugly' bits. So she straightens and dyes her hair a dark blue, cuts it down. Lilith hides herself, even her own Palisman is forced to constantly stay in staff form; A reminder that nature can only be allowed to exist as a tool, nothing else!!! And that's also dark because the Clawthornes are palismen carvers.

So yeah, we have Lilith trying to engage with her past and heritage, yet being deliberately blinded from it, made to participate in her own ignorance and erasure. Forced to hide physical aspects of herself to blend in, mistreated as more of a prop to show how any wild witch can be 'tamed', to prove a point to Belos himself. His own sick victory against Evelyn; A trophy seized from the locals, separated from her family and trying to pull them in with her because that's the best Lilith can have, even as she belittles them and thinks she was improved herself.

Lilith obviously has personal agency and thus blame regarding the curse, and the finale's themes do assert that, as does Lilith’s effort to atone; But it was Belos' coven system that helped pit Lilith against her fellow witches and even family members, and estrange herself from them. Lilith WAS legitimately interested in magic, too... But because of the system, she cursed Eda.

And Lilith didn't use any old curse, she used one created by the Archivists, who came from another world to 'tame', that itself had reduced another wild, native creature to just a prop. That curse was used to dehumanize and delegitimize Eda's stance against the system. It reduced her connection to her bile magic, something also important to witches and Clawthornes, and especially Eda who loved and was great at it; And to mitigate the curse and take responsibility, Lilith also lost her bile magic.

But at the same time, she and Eda re-established contact with glyphs, thanks to Luz; And Lilith made the breakthrough of rediscovering glyph combos! So there's an ancient practice, older than even the Deadwardian Era she obsessed over, that Lilith found and brought back, for a time at least; But that will still apply once King's glyphs so in full-swing. And Lilith even got to visit the Deadwardian Era, scar her abuser after he scarred her and so many others, and come to a better understanding about her own ancestral past, something that continues with Lilith’s self-actualization as the historian she always wanted to be; So now she’s helping everyone better understand their past and origins!

Lilith and the Clawthornes as a whole are still cut off from knowing about Evelyn and Caleb, and they may never know; But at least they got back Hunter, whom Lilith was also pitted against in the Emperor's Coven, which really divided Caleb and Evelyn's descendants. And what tops it all off is Lilith having parallels to Philip, what with the Wittebanes and Clawthorne sisters; One more open-minded and outdoorsy, going against society, while the other is bookish and bitterly insecure and absorbs prejudice to feel better about themselves. Even their names are structured similarly!

They both wear blue coats and hurt a sibling they cared for but also resented... But Lilith grew beyond all that. She went above the hatred and jealousy. The system was more prevalent in her life, yet Lilith still chose to go against it, taking the chance to stop when it came and work for real happiness. She stopped needing to put down others to feel better about herself, Lilith made a friend with someone as strange as Hooty, who was once connected to the Titan and also forgot his past, but is now connected to Dell's old tower; Abandoned but given new life by Lilith's sister Eda. So the past is still lost to some extent and unrecognizable even, but it still lives on anyway.

Anyhow, Irish Lilith Clawthorne who is a victim of assimilation by British colonialism and that tried to erase her Irish features and make Lilith conform by cutting her off from her heritage and feeding her a bastardized, demonized version of her own past, while turning against her own people and culture and thinking herself superior for climbing up the ladder she left others at the base of; A promised justification of imperialism. But then Lilith breaks free from all of it and reconnects and re-embraces everything she lost, including her family and heritage, and just gets to be weird with other weirdoes like herself, so there's both blood and the covenant (not THAT type of coven tho).

#the owl house #Lilith Clawthorne #character analysis #meta #colonialism

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fdelopera · 1 month

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Exactly, Anon. Exactly. This is why the Ivy League Universities being turned into Hamasnik terrorist bases is so horrifying. Especially with Jew-hating students attacking Jewish students and professors on campus, with the Universities' sanction. The Universities could shut these Jew-hate riots down. The fact that they don't shows that they want them to continue. They're trying to chase away the Jewish students and professors from these schools. That's always the first step. That's what the Nazis did first, too.

This article is taken from the US Holocaust Memorial Museum website. I highly recommend that everyone read the whole article. But even if you read the first paragraph, you'll see the parallels to what is happening on Ivy League campuses today:

After Adolf Hitler was appointed German Chancellor in January 1933, the new Nazi government began an effort to completely reorder public and private life in Germany.

The Nazi regime quickly targeted German universities—among the most elite in the world at the time—for restructuring according to Nazi principles. While the Nazi Ministry of Education initiated reforms, local Nazi organizations and student activists worked to bring Nazi ideals to German campuses. These forces, along with increasing antisemitism under Nazi rule, transformed everyday life at German universities. Throughout this period, students, faculty, and staff made individual decisions that both upheld and opposed Nazi ideology.

With the passage of the "Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service" in 1933, most Jewish professors in Germany were dismissed from their positions. Others, such as Professor Eugen Mittwoch, were able to keep their posts temporarily only due to the political value of their research. After purging Jewish and "politically undesirable" faculty, the regime then targeted the student body with the "Law Against Overcrowding in Schools and Universities." As German authorities continued to "Aryanize" German universities, Jews increasingly lost the opportunity to teach or study. Many non-Jewish Germans sought to benefit from their persecution.

The daily business of university life continued in the wake of these new policies, but political concerns increasingly influenced the way professors and students worked and studied. The practice of denunciation, as demonstrated by the "Request for the Investigation of Professor Hans Peters," illustrates the danger posed to both students and faculty if they failed to follow new ideological norms. Those willing to voice support for the new regime—whether out of enthusiasm or practicality—often received promotions or other rewards. Meanwhile, many others quietly accepted the new policies and passively benefited from the persecution of their Jewish peers. Very few, such as the small student group in Munich known as the White Rose, took any significant action to resist the Nazi dictatorship.

The Nazi government and its supporters manipulated several aspects of the country's traditional university system to turn German higher education into a crucial source of support for the new regime. For example, the German student population had been largely male long before the Nazi rise to power, and German campuses were dominated by fraternities. Those organizations maintained traditional military discipline and dress codes, and their alumni groups exercised significant political power both before and after 1933. Fraternities—often working with the Student Council and Nazi Student League—served as a powerful and violent force for implementing Nazi principles at universities, often going beyond the party platform in their radicalism. A Report on the Camaraderie House for Female Students of Göttingen shows how Nazi student groups used the format of traditional student organizations to train both men and women to become the next generation of Nazi leaders.

Although the regime could rely on many committed student activists, the Third Reich also sought the support of German professors to lend legitimacy to their policies. Because German universities were state institutions, professors' academic careers became vulnerable to the whims and wishes of the Nazi state. While only a small minority of professors had been Nazi Party members before 1933, several prominent professors quickly voiced their support for the Third Reich. In the new German university, political loyalty was valued over academic ability in the assessment of students and in the selection and promotion of professors. Authorities infused university classrooms with Nazi ideology—as shown in the document, "Foundation of the Advanced School of the German Reich". But prioritizing politics over academics affected the quality of German higher education.

Nevertheless, professors—even enthusiastic supporters of the new regime—often spoke out against some aspects of Nazi policy. The case of Eduard Kohlrausch shows how his opposition to student-led book burnings caused his removal from the university administration. Dissent against individual policies, however, did not give rise to any concerted resistance movements. German universities as a whole formed a solid base of support for the Nazi regime, contributing valuable knowledge to the development of technology for the war effort as well as logistical support for the Holocaust.

The Nazification of universities overwhelmed the daily lives of students with new requirements, including mandatory lectures, physical exercises, labor duties, and political assemblies. Many students resented those requirements, even if they supported the Nazi Party. In Heidelberg, for example, where the daily life of students was dominated by political instruction and mandatory physical training, large numbers of students withdrew from the university in search of other educational opportunities. As illustrated in the "Memo Regarding Maria-Elisabeth Koch," students also showed varying degrees of enthusiasm for the labor service that was often required of them in territories occupied by Nazi Germany.

The Nazi government's project of remaking German universities was broadly successful, but it produced unintended consequences. The quality of education suffered significantly as classes were regularly cancelled for political assemblies and students' schedules became filled with ideological and paramilitary training. Moreover, purging Jewish faculty deprived German universities of valuable expertise. Within a few years, many observers in Germany and abroad became deeply skeptical about the quality of German higher education in the Third Reich. Propaganda efforts such as the Carl Schurz tour for American professors and students—documented with a slickly produced video—did not prevent protest. The 550th-anniversary celebration of Heidelberg University met with opposition in Europe, even while prominent American universities such as Harvard accepted invitations.

With the defeat of the Third Reich in 1945, Allied forces occupying Germany began a long-term effort to remove the influence of Nazi ideology in German society. Many German academics who made significant contributions to the Nazi war effort fled to the United States, where they lived comfortable lives and their expertise was highly valued by American universities and the US military. In postwar Germany, many faculty and students who had benefited from the Nazis' discriminatory policies without being especially vocal or enthusiastic supporters of the regime sought to cast their dissent or their silence as forms of political resistance to obscure their own complicity. Although many Germans denied having supported the Nazi regime, antisemitism persisted in postwar Germany. The case of Hermann Budzislawski shows the difficulties encountered by the relatively few German Jews who decided to return to Germany after World War II.

Sources in this collection document the choices facing students and faculty pursuing their everyday lives in the shadow of Nazism and the Holocaust. Over the course of this period, as antisemitic discrimination escalated to mass murder, the higher education system proved to be a source of support—rather than opposition—to the party's project of remaking German society.

#jumblr #jewish history #the goyim are trying to speedrun the 1930s #goyim have always naively asked “How could the Nazi regime have murdered 6 million Jews??” - and now they're giving us the answer #Jew-hate makes you stupid #NOTE: I report and block antisemites. Any antisemites who comment on this post will be reported and blocked. You have been warned.

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thedroneranger · 9 months

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The Last Unicorn

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Javy "Coyote" Machado

Synopsis: Getting caught between Natasha and Javy leads to a unique experience.

Note: A horribly late entry for @sushiwriterhere's Top Gun Threesomeissance 2023 event—thank you for inviting me to participate! I have a bad bout of writer's block, but forced myself to push through and write this. Took longer than expected, but I wanted to finish it. It's also my first threesome, so I welcome feedback but be kind!

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, ffm, threesome.

Word count: 5.3k

Javy hated when Natasha flirted with other people. Every phone number, every touch pissed him off.

“Hold that glass any tighter, and you’re gonna be wearing your beer.” Jake said as he sat down next to Javy and tracked his best friend’s gaze to Natasha.

She was on the other side of the bar, hand wrapped around a beer pint while a fresh-off-the-carrier ensign made her laugh. Jake never could figure out Javy’s infatuation with Natasha, and he also couldn’t figure out Javy’s refusal to admit he had feelings for her.

Jake had lost count of the number of times Javy had drunkenly told him he and Natasha were purely physical. Every time Jake just nodded his head and drank his beer. Mentally, he would run through the rolodex of moments that said otherwise.

But now Javy and Natasha were in some sort of argument, and not speaking to each other. Not unusual. They would kiss and make up eventually.

Both Jake and Javy were deep in separate thoughts when you approached. “Are you ready for another round?” You asked with a smile. The two men nodded as you walked away to get them fresh beers.

You’d been working at The Hard Deck long enough to recognize Jake and Javy. You knew they were friends with the bar owner, Penny. You also knew Jake could go home with anyone in this bar. Javy, too. While Jake usually took advantage, Javy always left with the same brunette.

Jake and Javy also recognized you. They made half-hearted passes at you only when Penny wasn’t around, and then made sure to make up for it in tips.

You were convinced Penny had threatened them about fraternizing with her staff. It made you chuckle to think that Penny would shake down her customers before her own staff. It also sounded very much like Penny.

Natasha, the brunette Javy usually went home with, either was exempt or just didn’t care. She shamelessly flirted with the bartenders.

You found her attention flattering.

Any man with functioning eyes thought you were attractive. Of course, this meant you put up with a gamut of flirting, catcalls and comments. It was the most exhausting part of your shifts.

However, Natasha’s flirting felt less burdensome. Probably because she was a woman and knew more about how you ticked. Or maybe Natasha wasn’t even flirting with you? How did you know?! Were you being presumptuous? Confusing friendliness for more? After all, other women didn’t flirt with you. Or maybe they did? Maybe they did but were more subtle, and you just didn’t have a clue? You were used to subtle-as-a-neon-sign men.

Sometimes you caught yourself daydreaming. Are women better kissers? Are women truly better lovers? You had had your fair share of subpar romps with men. Are women actually better at li—

Shoot! Javy’s beer overflowed. Focus! You needed to focus. You wiped your hand, snagged a clean glass and poured another beer. Smile back on, you took the fresh pints to Jake and Javy. They thanked you, and you turned to find the next patron in need.

Natasha was staring straight at you. You bit your lip, clenched your fist and headed in her direction. “Hey!” She greeted you while leaning across the bar top.

“Hey!” You echoed, also leaning across the counter so you could hear better.

Jake and Javy watched your exchange. “Goddammit, she gets off on breaking the rules.” Javy grunted.

Jake sniggered as he took a sip of his beer. “I think she’s genuinely into her. She doesn’t hit on any of the other bartenders.” They continued to watch you and Natasha while sipping their beers. You laughed at something Natasha said, and she gently touched your arm. Then you took her empty glass to replenish her drink.

An idea struck Javy. He gulped his beer and pushed the empty glass toward your side of the counter. Always attentive, you noticed and noted to visit him after giving Natasha her pint.

Natasha kept her eye on you as you floated over to Jake and Javy. Both men were so focused on you, they didn’t even notice Natasha glaring at them. She watched as Javy said something that made you laugh.

Then, of course, Jake chimed in. Heaven forbid he not be in the center of attention. She scoffed as she sat her beer on the counter.

Javy was flirting with you, and Jake was wingmanning for him! Natasha couldn’t believe her eyes. Penny was nowhere to be found when Natasha needed her the most. It was calculated. Normally, Natasha was the flirt. She sought out people to piss off Javy.

“What are you up to?” Natasha said under her breath. She practically chugged her beer and flagged you down for another.

All night, you volleyed between Javy and Natasha, refilling their drinks and politely engaging with them. You were completely oblivious to the silent war raging between the pair.

As the night went on, the bar grew busier and Javy and Natasha couldn’t have all your attention. While you were serving some other patrons, Jake sidled up to Natasha and leaned on the bar beside her.

“Bagman.” She spat without looking at him, sticking her face in her pint.

“Bird brain.” He turned and waited for her to react.

She glared at him as she set her drink down. “What’s Javy think he’s doing?”

“Getting under your skin, and I’d say it’s working.” His gaze went from Natasha to you. You were busy pouring a line of shots. “Just remember she’s not a piece of meat.”

Natasha was stunned. “There’s rich coming from you!” She told Jake.

Jake gave her his million-dollar smile and leaned in. “Leave the usin’ and abusin’ to me.” He grabbed his beer, ready to return to his perch on the other side of the bar. “Stop playing with Javy, too.”

“Why don’t you impart that wisdom on your best friend? It takes two!” Natasha shouted as Jake disappeared into the crowd.

By the time Jake settled into his seat beside Javy, Natasha was chatting you up. He knew exactly what you two were chatting about. Based on your body language you hadn’t committed yet.

Both forearms on the counter Natasha leaned toward you. You mirrored her stance so she could speak closer to your ear in the loud bar.

“What time do you get off work?” she asked.

“Bar closes at two, but since I have seniority I can leave first if the crowd dies down,” you explained.

“How about a nightcap at my place?” Natasha followed up.

You were taken aback. You weren’t ready for this moment. “I’ve never been with a woman,” you blurted.

“Same rules apply.” Natasha playfully winked. “No pressure. However, I’d love to have a drink with you, at the very least,” she said in earnest. “And I’d be happy to be your first.” Natasha paused. “Whenever you’re ready.” You both smiled.

“I’ll keep you posted.” You confirmed before parting to serve another patron.

Javy and Jake watched the exchange from their seats. “Looks like you won’t be in her bed tonight.” Jake referred to you.

Without skipping a beat, Javy said, “Nah, all three of us will be in Nat’s bed, instead.”

Jake nearly spit out his beer. He had never heard his best friend be so bold. They looked at each other. “You’re serious aren’t you?”

“As a heart attack.” Javy confirmed. The jukebox queue mellowed and the crowd thinned as Jake probed Javy about his plan. Once he was informed, Jake disappeared to take his pick of the Hard Deck smorgasbord and go home.

Meanwhile, Javy continued to watch you as you ended your shift and accompanied Natasha to the parking lot. He figured he had time for one more beer before joining you.

Until then, Natasha was focused solely on you. The drive to her place was short, but the playful roast over your music choices helped you unwind.

Once parked, Natasha led you by the hand into her apartment. She kept up the banter as she let you choose the wine. Everything felt easy as you nestled together on the couch.

Warm from the wine, you pliantly slipped onto Natasha’s lap. Her hands ran from your knees to your thighs and then rested on your hips as your hands explored her arms and neck.

Finally, you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers. Your hips rolled forward a little, which enticed Natasha to bring her thumbs to the creases of your thighs. Your lips fit perfectly against hers, and you smiled into the kiss when she did.

Your tongue swiped along her bottom lip, and she gladly premised you to deepen the kiss. Natasha met you by curling her fingers to your hair at the base of your skull.

The tension had you moaning into her mouth. You broke the kiss to allow her to press wet kisses down your neck. Eyes shut, you bit your lip as she continued to pepper you with affection.

Preoccupied, you barely noticed as her hands slipped under your shirt and massaged you through your bra. It wasn’t until her fingers dipped past the lined lace and pinched your nipples you acknowledged her. She smirked and repeated her motions to pull more noises from you.

You were a moaning mess, leaning into her touch and rocking your pelvis against hers. Natasha encouraged you with every touch of her lips and caress of her fingers.

Natasha managed to get you out of your shirt and had your jeans unbuttoned, when a sharp knock on the door nearly sent you rocketing through the roof. She tried to keep you going but you were distracted.

As you and Natasha attempted to untangle yourselves so she could answer the door, the knocking grew more rapid. You shooed her away with one final kiss. She kept a smile on her face until she turned to face the door.

Fortunately, you weren’t within sight or earshot. Before answering, Nataha took a deep breath and put on her signature smirk.

“What do you want, Machado?” She leaned on the doorframe as Javy stared at her. He looked casual with his hands in his pockets and the top few undone buttons of his shirt exposing his chest.

“Are you looking for a third?” He asked coolly.

Natasha had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud as she stood straight up. “You can’t be serious?”

He shrugged. “Can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” He stood square to Natasha. “I know you’re game.” Javy reached out and dipped two fingers into Natasha’s front pocket, pulling her toward him.

She stared at him as she took a step closer. “Why were we mad at each other?” she inquired. Her gaze dipped from his eyes to his lips momentarily.

Javy shrugged again. “Can’t say I recall.” He was slowly closing the gap between them.

“Me either,” Natasha said. She could feel Javy’s hot breath in her face. “Apologize, and I’ll let you in.”

He smirked. “Apologize for what? I thought we forgot what we were fighting about?” He stopped moving, awaiting a response.

“I’m convinced you were at fault.” She closed the gap, pushing her lips against his. Natasha cradled Javy’s face as his arms wrapped around her waist.

After a few seconds she pulled away. “It’s her first time with a woman. I don’t want you to ruin it.” She gave him a dangerous look.

Javy couldn’t help but smile. Natasha’s concern for others was one of the endearing things about her. “It might be helpful to have some familiar energy in the mix.”

“Everything is her choice,” Natasha told him.

“Absolutely.” Javy agreed.

“Even you joining.”

“Even me joining.” He agreed.

Unsure of what was taking so long, you’d put your shirt on and buttoned your pants. The wine was too enticing to pass up, so you poured yourself another glass and paged through an old aviation magazine Natasha had laying on the coffee table.

Finally, she reappeared with Javy. “Hi!” You hoped you managed to somewhat mask the surprise in your voice.

“Hey,” Javy replied casually with a bright smile.

“Wine?” You offered as though it were your home. Javy looked at Natasha who gave a slight nod. The three of you sat down, drank wine and bantered. You were tucked between the pair on the couch. Javy’s arm laid along the sofa behind your head, while Natsha’s hand rested on your thigh.

When your glass was empty, you stood up. “What are you doing?” Natasha asked.

“I was thinking I should get going. I don’t want to impose on your evening.”

Natasha passively waved her hand. “If anything, Javy imposed.” She threw him a look. He nervously scratched the back of his head and flashed a cheeky smile in your direction.

“I’d love for you to stay and finish what we started,” Natasha said. “I’d love for both of you to stay, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Your gaze floated to Javy. “It’s your choice,” he said. “I don’t want to impose but I’d love to stay. Participate, even. If you’ll have me.”

“He’s very enthusiastic.” Natasha added as she glanced at him and pat his knee. He grinned.

In your wildest dreams you’d never imagined you’d be propositioned for a threesome. Let alone by a couple. Actually, were they a couple? Before your thoughts could swirl too much, Natasha slid her fingers into your hand and pulled you back onto the couch between them.

She looked at you as she let her knuckles skim up your arms. “What do you say?”

You were looking at her lips. “Do you do this often?” Your gaze came back to meet hers.

She shook head. “This would be the first time.” Her knuckle traced your jaw. “Javy and I only sleep with each other.” Natasha was looking at your lips, leaning closer.

“I haven’t been with anyone recently and am on birth control,” you replied.

Your tongue darted across your lower lip and Natasha’s pulled into a sweet smile. “Perfect.” Your lips finally met.

Her hand found the back of your head and guided you as she deepened the kiss. Soon you were kneeling on the couch cushions with your knees slotted. Natasha rocked herself against your kneecap for some friction, and you mirrored her actions.

A small moan escaped your lips as you caught her knee just right. “Holy, shit,” Natasha mumbled as you continued to make out. She pulled you further up her thigh, so you were closer. Your chests touching and her hand wrapped around your hips. Your hands were loosely splayed over her shoulders.

“Let me take you to bed.” She huffed as she pulled away. Her pupils were dilated with desire. You felt so powerful as you stared at her. Her chest heaved, waiting for your reply.

A groan had her looking past you. You turned to find Javy at the other end of the couch. He had given in and was palming his hard-on. “Do you want some help with that?” you asked. Both he and Natasha looked at you.

Natasha combed her fingers through your hair. “Only if you want to,” she said softly. You looked between her and Javy. He continued to massage his bulge. Silently, you slid from Natasha’s lap, and slipped onto the floor in front of Javy.

While you moved his hand and began to unfasten his pants, he scooted to the edge of the sofa. Together, you slipped his jeans down his legs and tossed them aside. Your palms ran up his thighs as you leaned forward into his lap.

A smile graced your lips as you thought about how Javy’s face wasn’t the only pretty thing about him. Then, you gingerly took his length in one hand, letting your thumb swipe over the tip. Precum slicked the pad. Javy watched as you brought your thumb to your mouth and sucked his essence from it.

His lips quirked at the soft pop! your lips made. A hum rose from your throat as you leaned forward to kiss his abs. Javy’s breath hitched, which made you smile.

You sprinkled kisses across Javy’s abdominals and thighs. Finally, your lips touched his cock. He twitched so hard when you finally kissed his tip, you thought he might instantly cum. Palms planted on the floor, you slipped the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. A light groan escaped Javy.

It was intense, but you held his gaze and you continued to swallow him inch by inch. Your tongue laved along the underside of his cock. You enjoyed the thick pulsing vein, which you softly prodded now and then. The first time, his hips bucked. The second time, you felt his length twitch.

Javy was first to break eye contact. Once he was completely down your throat, he couldn’t help but loll his head against the back of the couch and moan. A smile crept across your features the best it could for having a thick cock stuffed in your mouth.

A hand grazed across your shoulders as Natasha knelt beside you. “Can I touch you?” she asked. You nodded the best you could. Natasha’s hand was in your hair, combing it out of your face. She placed soft kisses on the back of your neck and along your shoulders as she situated herself behind you.

Lips still on your neck, Natasha’s hands reached around to unbutton your pants. Then she dipped a hand in, following the plane of your belly. She smiled against your neck. “No panties. You little minx!” She kissed you more.

“You’re so wet,” she cooed. Her fingers easily slipped through your slick and tugged your clit. You moaned around Javy from her touch. “That’s it.” Natasha’ voice was sultry in your ear. Almost involuntary, your hips began to match her rhythm as she sandwiched your clit between her fingers and slid them back and forth.

You moaned around Javy’s cock again. This time, you gagged a little. “Holy, shit.” Javy’s breath hitched again. “Nat, tell her how good she is.” His voice was strained.

“But baby, do you want her to take you to completion? So soon?” Natasha asked.

“You decide,” he responded in a single breath.

Natasha’s hand disappeared from between your legs. You were disappointed at the loss of stimulation. But her hand soon was tugging your roots, easing you away from Javy. Her other hand replaced your mouth, sliding up and down Javy’s length.

“I didn’t think you could look prettier, but you're gorgeous after sucking his cock.” You felt yourself clench around nothing at her compliment. She also swallowed your whimpers as she covered your mouth with hers.

Once again, you were in Natasha’s lap, grinding against her thigh as she licked into your mouth. She had one hand down the back of your pants, palming your ass while the other was still pumping Javy. You’d managed to get your hands up her shirt and were massaging her through her bra.

“Fuck!” You broke apart as Javy sprung off the couch. He hauled you up by the elbow, and Natasha quickly followed. You stumbled and Natasha helped steady you with a hand on your hip as Javy led the three of you to what you assumed was Natasha’s bedroom.

He let his hand slide down your arm until your hand was in his. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, pulling you until you were tucked to his chest. You’d been looking at his lips the whole time and met his gaze, giving him a small nod. His kiss was softer than Nat’s. Javy’s palm came to rest on your cheek. When you parted, he let his thumb glide across your bottom lip.

Natasha stepped behind you and slid a hand back into your unfastened pants. Her chin rested on your shoulder. You looked back at her and turned to face her. She smiled and kissed you before walking you backward toward the bed. You let yourself fall onto the mattress when your knees hit the edge. Natasha helped you shimmy out of your pants.

Before you could move, she was on her knees between yours, placing kisses on your inner thighs. She held your gaze as she slipped one of your legs over her shoulder, and pushed the other back for better access. “Relax,” she said between kisses. You watched her. Your heart seemed like it might pound right out of your chest onto the floor.

She held your gaze as she placed the lightest kiss on your cleft. Then, her tongue dipped between your folds. You exhaled with pleasure as her broad tongue glided the length of your clit and then narrowed into your hole. Her free hand found yours and entwined your fingers as she tongued you.

You couldn’t help the moans escaping you. You also couldn’t keep your back on the bed. Only Natasha’s hand was keeping you grounded as you writhed above her.

Unnoticed, Javy made his way over to the bed. He shed his clothing and slid beside you. You turned to look at him. He placed a sweet kiss on your forehead, then your nose and finally pressed his lips to yours. Again, his hand found yours. He and Natasha both supported you as you moaned and arched your back off the bed. That delicious tension was building low in your stomach. You wanted Natasha to get you there so bad.

“Javy,” Your breathing was ragged. “Put your cock in my mouth.” There was a pause. “Please.” He let out a light laugh as he maneuvered to cradle your head and slip himself into your mouth. You moaned as his tip stretched your cheek. Languidly, he continued to thrust into your mouth sometimes hitting your cheek and sometimes the back of your throat.

Javy and Natasha fell into complementary rhythms. “C’mon, come for me,” she coaxed you. She switched to two fingers pumping in and out of you, making sure to hit that spongy spot each time. You felt your vision fading as your orgasm grew nearer.

Finally, you tumbled over the edge with Javy’s cock filling your mouth, Natsha’s fingers stuffed in your pussy and her mouth sucking your clit. It felt like your whole body came off the bed as you writhed and moaned. Javy and Natasha held your hands through it all.

As you came back to your senses, you heard them praising you. You were laying between the pair as their fingers softly skimmed your curves. You felt flush as you looked at Natasha. “That was amazing.” She smiled in response. “Maybe the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“Nat definitely knows a thing or two,” Javy added. You turned to look at him. He had the proudest grin.

Natasha’s soft laugh drew your attention back to her. “Javy’s no slouch.” It was cute to hear them talk up each other.

“Can I try to repay the favor?” you asked.

“Gladly.” Natasha smirked and leaned in to kiss you. Before it got too heated, she broke it to ditch her clothing. Quickly, she returned to you, palming your breasts and rolling your nipples until they hardened.

Curious, you dropped your mouth to her nipple and swirled your tongue around it until it peaked. You showed the other the same attention and then alternated between sucking on each. Natasha arched into your affection. Her hand tangled in your hair as you pleasured her.

Javy watched you two before slipping off the bed. He reached for you and dipped his hands into the hinges of your thighs to position you on your knees at the end of the bed. You moaned and released Natasha with a smack. Before Javy pulled you away, you placed a kiss on each pert nipple. Natasha followed you, nestling her hips into your arms, so you could wrap your arms around her legs and easily bury your face in her pussy.

Javy lined himself up behind you, sliding him length between your cheeks, and then he slid his tip through your puffy, soaked folds. He grunted, letting his pelvis hit your ass.

You canted forward slightly, bumping your nose into Natasha. She softly chuckled as you gasped. The tip of your nose was now wet. She looked at you and then dropped her gaze to herself. Your eyes followed to see her middle and index fingers spreading her lips. “Oh!” You watched as her fingers slid down her clit and disappeared inside her.

She and Javy exchanged looks above you as he pushed himself into you. A gasp escaped you as Javy slowly sank into you. You spread your knees wider enjoying his thickness. He kneaded your ass as he let you adjust to him.

“Doesn’t he feel amazing?” Nat asked as she continued to pump her fingers in and out of herself. “Javy, is her pussy amazing?”

“Yeah, baby. So tight. So warm.” As he found a pace he liked, one hand moved to your clit. The other found purchase on the bed as he leaned over you to kiss Natasha. She happily sat forward to press her mouth to his.

“Oh. My. God.” You said with each thrust. Javy continued to draw tight circles on your clit. Fists filled with bedding, you braced yourself the best you could. You were still bumping into Natasha occasionally.

Finally she pulled away from Javy and got back in her initial position. “I can’t wait any longer, can you please put your pretty mouth on my pussy?”

“Will you tell me what to do?” you asked innocently. She moaned, turned on by your naivety.

“Of course.” She winked at you.

As you lowered your head, Javy thrust just right to hit your G spot. Your breath hitched and a curt moan left you. Attentive, he repeated his actions and you rewarded him with more moans.

Natasha couldn’t stand it anymore, she laced her fingers in your trusses and guided your lips to her heat. “Stick your tongue out. Flat.” You did as you were told and Natasha ground her slit against it.

She sighed and continued stimulating herself on you. Enjoying the sensations at both ends, you felt the tension in your belly building again.

“Suck me.” Natasha let go of your hair and guided you until your mouth was on her. Without hesitation, you pressed your lips flush to her clit and sucked. She tossed her head back as you applied more suction.

Instinctually, you slid two fingers into her hole. She gasped and began to roll her hips in tandem with your fingers pumping in and out. You loved the silky feeling of her on your fingers.

Resting your mouth, you pressed the pad of your thumb to Natasha’s clit. You never had your fingers in a pussy other than your own. Wanting to please Natasha, and curious, you changed your angle with each probe. Finally, you found that rubbery patch on her upper wall.

Her breath hitched and she squeezed around your fingers. You zeroed in, come-hithering your digits against that spot and putting your mouth on her.

“You’re a natural.” She moaned as she put her hand on the back of your head and pressed herself against your face. You hummed against her pussy, and she clenched her thighs around your head.

Javy helped hold Natasha’s thighs wide. Still buried between your legs, Javy leaned over top of you and placed a hand on each of her kneecaps. You alternated between sucking on her clit and dipping your tongue into her while he held her open.

“Keep doing it,” Natasha whined, closing her eyes and biting her lip. Suddenly, her eyes shot open. “I want to ride your face. Javy, flip her over,” she commanded.

No time to react, you yelped as Javy easily rolled you on your back. He slipped back into your pussy and moved at a listless pace. His hands traversed your hips and belly.

Meanwhile, Natasha demanded you stick out your tongue as she straddled your head while facing Javy. Immediately, she began to slide back and forth against your broad tongue. “Yes! Yes!” she chanted. You could tell she was close to her peak. To help push her closer, Javy put his month over one of her nipples and palmed the other. Your hands moved to grope her ass and spread her wider.

Nat stopped moving, and you and Javy took over. You laved your tongue all over her, sucking her lips, nipping her clit and planting kisses here and there. Natasha gasped when you began to tongue fuck her. She moaned and bounced a little against your face, which was the final piece to her twitching against your mouth.

You continued spreading Natasha and plunging your tongue into her heat. The task proved difficult when Javy guided Natasha’s head between the two of you. She stroked your clit with her tongue and fingers. Meanwhile, Javy began to pick his pace back up, thrusting into you.

The tension in your stomach tightened, and you were on the verge of overstimulated. Your head lolled back on the bed and your back arched as your second orgasm washed over you. Natasha and Javy worked you through it.

About to cum himself, Javy said, “Look at me,” to Natasha. She stared at him with doe eyes as he pulled out of you. A few pumps of his fist, and warm viscous ropes glazed Nat’s face. She gasped as the last drops hit her skin. Javy helped her climb off you, and he encouraged you to clean her up.

She knelt beside you on the bed, palms planted. You swiped two fingers across her bottom lip, before pushing them into her mouth. She licked them cleaned, and then sucked them before giving you your hand back. You then cleaned the rest of her face with your tongue.

Natasha pulled you on top of her and lured you into a makeout session. While the two of you kissed until your lips were numb, Javy snuck away.

He returned just as you separated. He cleaned you up with warm damp washcloths and planted a kiss on each of you when he was done. He also brought you water with electrolytes. Then, he tossed two of his t-shirts at you while he pulled on boxers.

The three of you climbed into bed, he and Natasha on either side of you. Natasha rested her head on your chest and lazily drew circles on your thigh under the sheets while you were tucked into Javy’s side. He pressed kisses to your temple every now and then, and his fingers played with Natasha’s hair.

You were nearly asleep when Natasha pressed a couple kisses to your jaw. You moaned. “I don’t think I can do another round tonight.”

“But you want another round? Or two?” Natasha’s tone was hopeful. Your heart fluttered at the thought. Tonight was easily the best sex you had ever had. Why wouldn’t you want to do it again?

Javy’s hand rubbed your shoulder and bicep. “I can speak for both of us when I say we’d love another round. Many rounds.” He kissed your forehead.

“Let’s sleep on it and discuss over breakfast,” Natasha suggested as she settled back into her spot with her head on your chest. “Javy’s a unicorn in the kitchen.” The three of you giggled before exchanging goodnight kisses and nodding off to sleep.

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#top gun threesomeissance 2023 #natasha trace #natasha x reader #top gun maverick #top gun #tgm #coyote top gun #javy coyote machado #javy machado x reader #natasha phoenix trace

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 month

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Hi! Okay this is my first time doing an ask so I hope I'm doing this right 🤞

I got into the Arcana very recently and I fell in love with it and then I found your blog (it's fantastic!!!) and since it's exam season in my college rn, it got me thinking: what would M6 be like as college students? Who's got the best notes, who pays attention in every single class and who's the one running on 2 hours of sleep and a single meal of instant noodles (though I feel like we already know the answer to that one lol) and who has 0% attendance but still aces their exams? (Ofc these are only examples, feel free to expand on these ideas if you want)

Thank you so much for everything you do! It's really fun reading through all your HCs and mini-HCs <3

The Arcana Mini-HCs: M6 as college students

Julian - as suggested, he's the one with 0 sleep and too much sodium and caffeine in his blood to realistically be thinking straight (spoiler alert: he isn't) still aces all his classes and charms the profs

Asra - has mastered the art of snoozing and listening at the same time. their attendance is awful but their grades are good because the chaos that is their assignments intimidates the profs into passing it

Nadia - so put together it's terrifying. carries an expensive-looking tumbler perpetually full of tea in her manicured fingertips that she sips silently from through class. (her teeth are cracking from stress)

Muriel - got started on a sports scholarship, but outside of official events does solo practice. otherwise spends all his time in the arts buildings so he doesn't get judged and can help with set construction

Portia - That One Student who somehow knows the name of everyone on campus (including staff), leads multiple groups, started a volunteer work initiative, hosts dinners, and works part-time

Lucio - only shows up to class when he's bored, bombs all his tests but still passes because his coaches pull some strings, throws the best parties but won't join a fraternity because it means committing

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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joelswritingmistress · 2 months

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Camp Crystal Lake: Chapter 6

Requested by @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz

Joel Miller x f!reader (romance/horror)

Setting: Camp Crystal Lake

The reader is taking on the position of a camp counselor at the infamous Camp Crystal Lake. While she begins to enjoy her summer, even crushing on the camp director Joel, a killer lurks in the woods unbeknownst to anyone.

Hours went by. The sun rose and dipped closer to the horizon. Painting turned into playing. Playing turned into swimming. At the end of the shift, the lifeguard stand and the tops of the docks had a fresh coat of paint. The docks, themselves, were fully assembled.

I saw Sandra tug on Jeff’s blue tank top. She whispered something to him, he shook his head with a smirk and then after calling him a, “chicken shit,” he snickered and followed her into the woods through the trees.

The rest of the staff had made their way out of hiding, so to speak, all eager to take a dip in the lake after a day of sun and sweat. It turned into a mini party on our own private beach.

I stared at Joel in his mesh shorts in all of his shirtless glory. He had been forced into the water when the guys threw him in as a joke and had tossed his soaked shirt up on the lifeguard stand. I knew right then, with regard to what Sandra had asked me in the shed, that my answer would definitely be yes.

I took a break from chicken fights, lounging on the dock and wading in the lake to head back up to the shed. A stroke of paranoia hit me when I realized I hadn't seen the key Joel had given Sandra and me since earlier that day.

I sighed to myself when I saw the gold key still set in the center of the doorknob.

“Good.” I spoke the word to myself.

“What's good?” Joel asked, making me whip around.

I jumped, not hearing him come up, and then smiled and blushed, as I typically did when in his company.

“Sorry.” Joel laughed. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

“That's okay.” I shook my head and looked back at him and smiled.

“I know you have more knowledge of this place than the others,” he guessed and then gave a small grin and teased, “Not scared of Camp Crystal Lake, are you?”

I was still grinning but shrugged, “I grew up hearing stories about this place. I know “Camp Blood” is right around the corner.”

“You gonna last all summer?” Joel leaned an arm on the doorframe and I took a step back into the shed, still staring him down.

“I'll last.”

“Yeah?” He took a step in, passing by the open doorway.

The next part happened all at once. My brain was unable to process that it was really happening when Joel pulled me to him by the hand. Instinctively my arms wrapped around him and our lips locked in a sneaky makeout session as if we were teenagers.

I saw stars from that first kiss. I thought of myself as a rather boring person; a rule follower. So, when this unorthodox romance unsuspectingly bloomed right in front of my face, I was on cloud nine. No kiss that I'd experienced had ever been that hot.

My eyes didn't open for a second or two when Joel’s lips parted from mine; though he still held me close. “I'm not supposed to be fraternizing with the staff,” he whispered, making me laugh lightly and open my eyes.

“I won't tell,” I said quietly, making him grin into another smoldering kiss inside the sweltering shed.

I'm kissing my boss! He's hot! Omg! My mind was reeling with cliche phrases as we carried on.

“Joel,” I snuck his name in the middle of it and immediately regretted it when his lips left mine.

“I crossed a line-” he began but I cut him off.

“No.” I shook my head and smiled so he knew I was okay, “No. It's not that. I just.. wow.” I actually said ‘wow’ out loud and hated myself for it.

“Oh, shit.” Joel looked out a small window behind me and made a face.

“What?”

“Sheriff is here. What the fuck does he want?”

“The sheriff?” I took a breath and looked up at him, annoyed that he might have to leave the small, hot space we shared.

Joel grinned at me, “Are you.. are you okay.. with this?”

I smirked again and nodded. “I've never done anything like this.”

Joel laughed and then glanced out the window again as the sheriff grew closer. And then I saw Sandra and Jeff walking solemnly behind him, exchanging glances.

What happened? I wondered.

Joel reached for a stray bucket of paint, mostly as a prop, and popped out of the shed. “What can I do for you, officer?” He asked, drawing the man's attention toward him.

I wandered out of the shed behind him, welcomed by the much cooler air.

“You the guy who runs this place?” The husky, mustached man asked.

He nodded and extended a hand. “Joel Miller.”

“I found two of your people over at them abandoned cabins,” the officer said, using his thumb to motion to Jeff and Sandra. “Camp Blood. Sniffing around. It's private property.”

“Sir, we didn't mean,” Jeff began but Joel put up a hand.

“I'll handle this, Jeff.”

The officer glanced back at Jeff and then to Joel, again. Annie wandered over and stood beside Joel, attempting to be friendly.

“Is everything okay?” She asked.

“I just might get a warrant against this place,” the officer threatened, making both of them straighten up.

“Oh really?” Joel asked.

“Look Joel, you've got a good reputation. You want to create a safe haven here for the summer for some kids. The town supports that, we all want that. But, you're too close. It's been quiet for a long time here,” he glanced at Jeff and Sandra again, “And we want to keep it that way.”

“So do I, officer.” He gave a parental look to the two of them, causing Jeff to make a face. Sandra tied the sand with her sneaker.

There was a pause and it appeared as if the officer was waiting for Joel to do something as he stood staring at him with his hands on his hips.

“Why don't you two go back to the main cabin,” Joel told them. “Get washed up and I'll be in in a few minutes to speak with you.”

Sandra nodded, catching my glance for a moment, and gave Joel a nod.

“Sorry Mr. Miller,” Jeff added for good measure in a way that was purposely boyish.

“You're not even going to reprimand them?” The sheriff asked, “No punishment?”

“Annie,” Joel said, glancing over to her.

“Yeah?”

“No seconds on dessert for Jeff and Sandra tonight.”

I tried my best to hold back a laugh when the sheriff's jaw dropped at Joel’s nonchalant ‘punishment’. He then waved his hands and stormed off. When he was far enough away I finally let out a little laugh.

“Well, that was interesting,” Annie said, high-fiving Joel.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I better go talk to them.”

“So two of our people get hauled in because ten years ago some girl panicked and fell out of a canoe?” She went on, beginning to walk back down to the water where the others stared in our direction with questions circulating in their eyes. “Give me a break.”

Joel turned back to me and smirked. “So.. was I reading things right?” He asked quietly, looking over his shoulder now toward the others, and then back to me. “I sensed that you might..”

“You're reading it right,” I said, knowing full well what he was talking about. “I, uh.. yeah.” I laughed and toyed with my hair as I searched for the right words to say.

“Maybe we could talk later on tonight.”

I nodded right away, “Sure.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” I echoed him and he maintained a smile for a second or two before going to the cabin where he sent Jeff and Sandra.

I touched my lips with my fingers and smiled. I contemplated telling Sandra before making my way back down to the beach to hang out a bit with the others.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

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al-astakbar · 11 months

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☆ Fair Winds and Following Seas -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ Fair Winds and Following Seas

> summary ☆ In a loosely-controlled experiment, Grand Admiral Thrawn decides to dose you with a powerful aphrodisiac and makes you go about your day as usual. This is a direct follow up to Good and Faithful Service, I suggest reading that first.

> pairing ☆ Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [6.9k] ☆ warnings ☆ aphrodisiacs; mildly dubious consent; masturbation; cunnilingus; Thrawn eats ass (very brief); PIV sex; power dynamics & imbalance; fraternization; angsty at the end

> posted on ao3 ☆

You can’t have expected anything to change with you and Thrawn. Not really. It had been one night. You had offered your help before he had ordered you to give it. Even when he’d had you on your back, even with his cock in your mouth, neither of you had put aside your ranks. You were still ‘Lieutenant’, and he was still the Grand Admiral. He was still Sir.

Except now you keep slipping. Months on, you find yourself unable to focus on much of anything. Distracted in meetings, forgetting things, neglecting the most basic military decorum.

The Grand Admiral is perhaps more lenient than most senior officers, but he is only forgiving to a point.

So when he comms you an hour earlier than normal one morning, you’re nervous. It could be a reprimand. It could be some worse, harsher punishment. He could be planning to dismiss you, have you reassigned. Between dismissal and punishment, you feel crazy for hoping it’s the latter. The thought of having to leave him, the thought that he has no use for you anymore… you mentally shake yourself. Totally inappropriate way for a junior officer to feel about her commander. You’re his aide, nothing more, nothing less.

You quickly change out of your pt clothes into the uniform of the day, and hurry up to his office, which is a couple decks above your stateroom. You press the chime to let him know you’re outside, and then he remotely keys the hatch to open for you.

Inside, his office is almost pitch black.

“Enter.” His voice calls from somewhere in the dark. You can’t pinpoint it.

You step inside, and the hatch zips shut behind you.

“Good morning, sir. Lieutenant--” you stumble over your own name, just barely managing not to yelp in surprise when you suddenly see a pair of glowing red eyes open, just a few feet away from you “-- reporting as ordered.”

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” he says smoothly. He brings up the lights without offering any comment on why he’d had them off in the first place. Strange. He hadn’t said anything about the incident with the Nevow. Not one thing. At first you’d figured he was determined to act like everything was normal, just pretend it hadn’t happened. But just as you’ve been slipping, he’s had some odd moments as well.

He gestures to the seating area where he usually entertains senior staff or high ranking visitors. There is an elegant silver caf service laid out on the low table.

You gratefully accept the cup of caf he pours and then passes to you. You sit awkwardly, perched on the edge of the chair with rigid posture, while he sits back, regarding you thoughtfully.

“Thank you for coming early. Did I interrupt your morning exercise?”

“Uh… of course, sir. And I had been just about to start. You know, unit pt down in the aft shuttle maintenance bay.” You gulp down your caf, noticing that it’s making you feel quite warm, especially in the usual chill of his office. “You started a droid-sparring trend, sir. I don’t know if you knew that.” With any other officer, this would be much too familiar. Too friendly.

The Grand Admiral just says, “indeed?”

“Yes, sir.” You finish your cup, and he pours you a second. “Thank you,” you murmur.

He sips his own, watching you with a strange glint in his eyes. Not unlike the way he had looked at you all those months ago in that hot, confined room. Your face heats at the memory, and you drink again to cover your blush.

Not for the first time, you wonder if you should be the one to request a transfer. You can’t control yourself around him. Even now, just sitting here having caf, and you’re getting turned on just from the way he looks at you. Suddenly your collar feels too tight. The temperature of his office, so cold you normally have to clench your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering-- too warm. Some time ago, you had finally given in to your fantasies, and allowed yourself to imagine him while you masturbate. It had felt so, so wrong, a violation of his trust in you, a violation of your relationship as junior and senior officers. But it hadn’t stopped you. And it isn’t the same as the real thing. You stare down at your cup, thankful that, perceptive as he is, he can’t actually read your mind.

“Lieutenant?”

You look up. “Yes, sir?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, sir.” You nod quickly, blushing even harder.

You’re sure he can tell that you’re lying, but he doesn’t remark on it. He lets you fidget for a moment, and then changes topic.

“Today, you will help me conduct an experiment.”

You sit up straighter, reaching for your datapad to take notes, but he stops you.

“That will not be necessary. You will be the subject, and I will… observe you.”

That was intentional. That suggestive twist he put on the phrase, the way his voice went low and soft, like he knew how it would send a shiver of arousal up your spine. You swallow hard. “Of course, I’ll do whatever is required of me, sir.”

Grand Admiral Thrawn almost smiles. You both know his authority over you begins and ends with military matters, and you’re pretty sure whatever this is falls well outside of those boundaries. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Now, allow me to explain. I have put some of the galvi root in the caf you just drank. I had to guess at the dosage, but am I correct that it has already begun to take effect?”

You nod tightly, head spinning at this revelation, though in hindsight you should have expected something like this from him.

“I see… it has affected you more quickly, then.”

“Are you-- are you sure?” At his slight frown, you continue quickly. “I think you may not have noticed it right away because you had the distraction of the ceremony. Sir.”

The Grand Admiral leans back, tapping the arm of his chair. “Yes. Yes, I believe you are right.” He pauses, and gives you an appraising look that makes you squirm.

“You could have asked me!” You finally say, a little testy.

“And you would have agreed to it, would you not?”

You nod again, flustered at how easily he can read you. As to why you would agree to it so readily— you’d rather not risk exposing your embarrassing crush on him by arguing the point.

“Therefore my asking beforehand would be unnecessary.”

You very nearly glare at him. Not like it would be the first line crossed today in terms of what’s acceptable between a junior and senior officer. Instead, you say, “I hadn’t factored in the time for this in today’s schedule, sir. If you need me to--”

“Not to worry, Lieutenant. You will accompany me for the entire day. I have arranged for your colleagues to cover your other responsibilities. As part of the experiment, we need to test how well you are able to perform your daily routine, or at least an approximation of it.”

You aren’t sure how to argue about this, if you even should, because the idea of it seems ridiculous. After all, he had been totally incapacitated by the drug within two hours and now he expects you to just go about your day. Will you be allowed any privacy? Will you be allowed relief?

He seems to be contemplating the same questions. What he says next makes you bite back a gasp and you nearly drop your cup. “Recall: you sucked my cock and I came in your mouth.”

This is the first time since that he’s directly acknowledged it, and he says it so calmly but the shock of hearing those words in his cool, modulated voice sends a visceral pulse of desire through your body. You shift, trying to hold yourself still. Can’t keep your hands from shaking. With a rattling clink, you put your cup and saucer on the table.

At that, Thrawn continues, “-- but the effects of the drug were not lessened. It was alleviated, very briefly, but then only grew stronger. It was the same when I masturbated. That is what we will test today. And your ability to withstand it.”

You have no idea what to say, other than a weak ‘yes, sir.’

For a few more minutes, the two of you sit quietly. Thrawn finishes his caf and you think on what he’s just said. Recall, was his order. How can you not? You’ve thought about it every day for months. How he had tasted, how he’d fucked you. How he had sounded when he’d come that last time, a low, almost feral growl as he’d pushed deep inside of you.

Then he checks his chrono, and it’s time to go. Nearly 0700. He’ll be expected on the bridge for the morning report.

He stands, and at the last second, you remember to do the same. Not a good sign. Protocol dictates you stand at attention whenever the commanding officer enters or leaves the room. The Grand Admiral is usually rather lax about such niceties, but if you let the little things slide, it’s only a matter of time before you make a mistake that he would deem significant.

You follow Grand Admiral Thrawn to the first task of the morning, the familiar route through the passageways up to the bridge feeling much longer than normal. This is fine, you try to reassure yourself. You do this with him every day. And it’s possible the aphrodisiac doesn’t even affect humans the way it had affected him. After all, your hosts all those months ago could have dosed you, too, but didn’t. Maybe they had known it wouldn’t really work. But-- no.

You’re here, now, at his elbow on the command walkway, already failing your duties. You’re supposed to be paying attention, and taking any notes he might need. Instead, you’re sweating. You can feel a trickle of it down your back, and where it’s beading in your hairline.

Commodore Faro grimaces at you, and makes some comment about droid-sparring for pt getting out of control. You apologize to her, a hurried ‘sorry, ma’am’, and then excuse yourself because the Grand Admiral has made that vague gesture with his hand that means he has something for you to do.

But all he wants is for you to come stand by his side. Throughout the morning and the rest of the day, he insists on keeping you close, and the proximity only makes your desire flare hotter. The way he smells, and his tall, broad-shouldered frame, and the way his arm sometimes brushes against yours. His long-fingered hands, which, though he’s wearing his white gloves right now, you can still picture so clearly, blue against your skin.

You take your seat at his right hand in the morning meeting, only to fidget and shift the whole time. Every so often, he gives you the side eye, so you will yourself to stop, to be still, control yourself.

He leans over, commenting quietly for only you to hear, that your core temperature is elevated. His voice maddeningly calm as always. Raising one eyebrow at you, almost a challenge. Ask for what you need, Lieutenant.

You need him. You need his cock, you need to feel him again, don’t give a damn if it’s fraternization and every other officer in the room would see your life ruined-- both you and Thrawn-- if they knew you’re even having these thoughts. You need him to bend you over the conference table and fuck you until you can’t walk.

At last, he stands, dismissing everyone from the meeting. Except you. You check your chrono, and it takes you a moment to read it. You feel delirious, every sense flooded with overwhelming arousal. Every nerve charged.

“Forty-five minutes, Lieutenant.” The Grand Admiral’s cool, soft voice washes over you. You have to close your eyes against it. Against what it does to your fraying self control. Officers of the Galactic Imperial Navy do not think about dropping to their knees and begging their commander to make them cum.

“Until? Sir?” You only get the formality in as a force of habit.

“Since.”

Your eyes snap to his. “Since?”

He tilts his head, studying you. His gaze sweeps down your body, his lips part slightly. There’s that hunger you had seen before, when he had been the one whose desires were laid bare by the drug. “Since you took the dose.”

Your heart drops. “That’s it?!” You blurt out, and he raises an eyebrow at your unprofessionalism. “Sorry, sir. I…” You hesitate, “I’m just going to the ‘fresher real quick before our next meeting.”

“No.”

You freeze in your tracks. “Sir?”

“I have not excused you, Lieutenant. And I assume your purpose in going is to be able to masturbate in private?”

You stare at him, mortified, and unable to answer.

He tilts his head slightly. “Interesting.”

“What?”

“I have never seen a human produce so much facial heat before.”

You huff, and close your eyes briefly. “Sir, I… I can’t do this. Could I just be excused for the day until it wears off? I’ll just tell Medical I ate something weird that I bought at the last port call.”

“Perhaps you misunderstand, Lieutenant. I am permitting you to masturbate. But you will do it here.”

It clicks in your mind. Observe.

You lick your lips, and meet his eyes once more for confirmation. He lets his gaze sweep down and back up, positively indecent. It makes your pulse spike, knowing that he’s thinking about you like that.

Too fast, too eager, you pull up your tunic, unbuckle your belt and shove your pants down just enough.

“More,” Thrawn orders. He points rather lazily to your legs, and how they aren’t spread wide enough for him to see much. You obey, and then fall back into the chair, bare from hips to ankles. Thrawn is close. He stands right in front of you, regarding you with imperious authority.

The effect of the drug is powerful enough to dampen some of your embarrassment, but you are still sitting here, legs spread wide for your commanding officer. Anyone could walk in.

“Do you need more specific directions, Lieutenant?” He asks dryly.

“No, sir.” You reach your hand down and find you’re already slick and wanting. Wet enough to be fucked, your mind supplies unhelpfully, but you know he won’t give that to you. You start circling your clit, can’t stop yourself from whimpering in relief. Plunge one finger in, but it’s not enough, so you work in a second. It feels good, so good. The drug has its claws in you now, some primal force coaxing you faster, faster -- if you can just take the edge off. None of it is enough. You rub your clit, and push your fingers in as deep as you can, curling them to that perfect spot. Your climax is almost too easy to find, right there within reach--

“Look at me.”

Your eyes fly open. Your breath hitches --“y-yes. Yes, sir,” -- and you’re coming, hard and fast. You can feel your inner walls fluttering around your fingers, and you chase the feeling as long as you can, touching a bright, fleeting pleasure that has you moaning wantonly.

But the drug steals away any true satisfaction. Makes it shallow, and over too soon, and leaves a tight, twisting need in your core, verging on pain.

“Did it help?” He echoes your question from months ago, but you both already know the answer.

It made it worse. You shake your head and quickly make yourself decent. You’re about to wipe your hands on your trousers when he catches your wrist-- the hand that you’d fucked yourself with-- and licks one of your fingers. Then he sucks both of them fully in his mouth with a sinful hmm. As if he’s been waiting for his chance to taste you.

You give a shuddering whimper. Again, you have to close your eyes against the sight of him, against the feeling of his mouth and tongue. Against everything.

When he’s done, he wipes your face and hands with a handkerchief. He gives you a once-over, and straightens your rank plaque himself. Once you’re deemed presentable, he leads the way to the next meeting.

He keeps finding little ways to touch you, and you’re sure it’s on purpose. Even his hand on your shoulder makes you have to refocus your self control, exhale as the warmth of his touch makes you ache with need. After the Ops brief, he leans in close and picks a possibly nonexistent piece of lint off your tunic.

By 0930, he hasn’t allowed you to masturbate again, and you’re a wreck. “Sir…” you sway on your feet, distantly pondering the consequences if you were to simply disobey him, and sneak off to a ‘fresher. Or you could jump a random officer, get him to fuck the drug out of you for a few hours. Or… you gaze at Thrawn, not bothering to try to conceal your lust…

He regards you dispassionately.

“Sir, please…”

“Would you ever have asked me for it, Lieutenant?” His authority, his very presence seems to fill the now-empty executive conference room. “I’ve been wondering if you would. I did promise you a dose. You never added the time for it to my schedule.”

You swallow hard, not quite trusting yourself to speak coherently. “You already have so much on your plate, sir. I didn’t want to overburden you.” You know it sounds like a lame excuse.

Evidently, he thinks so too. “I see.” He brushes a strand of hair off your face, tucks it behind your ear.

You shiver at the contact, at how cool his hand feels next to your burning skin.

It’s gone all too soon. He turns away and you dutifully follow along, wondering if your lie had just cost you a chance at relief.

You endure another couple hours or so-- you only know the time because Thrawn keeps reminding you. But as the minutes tick by you feel more and more delirious, and occasional spasms of pain start to wrack your body. Somehow you manage to stay on your feet, standing at his elbow as he conducts a walkthrough inspection of the ship’s TIE Defender maintenance shop. After that, you accompany him for a brief break in the senior officers’ mess, and have to watch him as he calmly sips his caf while you squirm in the seat next to him. He makes conversation with a few other officers, but you can’t focus on anything they’re saying. Every thought you have is of him. Every impulse, the heat between your thighs, urging you, screaming at you to throw yourself at him, to bend over so he can mount you, or better yet you could ride him. Straddle him, brace your hands on his chest, feel his powerful, long legs flexing as he pumps up into you.

He glances over at you just once, and raises his eyebrow, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

The next meeting, you get through by white-knuckling the conference table and crossing your legs very tightly. Desire burns in you like a fever, narrows your awareness to just your body and the undeniable, agonizing need the drug has stoked in you.

You stand at attention with everyone else when Thrawn gets up and dismisses the meeting. And once again, you’re alone with him.

He fixes you with a dangerous look, a curious gleam in his glowing red eyes. He seems almost… entertained.

“Sir, please, I… I need to…” You shouldn’t speak first, typically. Junior officers don’t talk this way to their betters, but nothing about this is typical.

“Truly remarkable,” Thrawn says softly. “The power of this drug, and your resistance to it. You’ve done very well so far, but I fear it may harm you.”

He begins pulling his right glove off, finger by finger. Your pulse jumps in your chest. “Take off your boots.”

You barely pause to question it, though worry rattles in the back of your mind. What if someone comes in? Won’t there be another meeting in here soon? Thrawn isn’t worried. Perhaps doesn’t care.

He approaches, backing you up to the large conference table. When you come up on the edge of it, he lifts you by your waist and sits you up on it. With swift, deft movements, he undoes your belt and strips you of your trousers. He slots himself between your bare legs and you hear yourself panting. Pushing your hips closer to him, needing to rut and grind. Without asking, you reach a hand down, eager to touch your clit. He stops you, catches your wrist and you actually whine with disappointment.

He ignores this, looking down at you contemplatively, and it registers then, just how close you are, how you’d dreamed of this for months and now you’re close enough to kiss him. “Please,” you try again. “I did it for you.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “But this is an experiment, not an exchange of favors.”

And with a fluid, graceful motion he gets on his knees and buries his face in your soaking pussy.

His lips immediately find the bud of your clit in a lewd, wet, open-mouthed kiss. A shuddering, throaty cry tears from your lips, and Thrawn only pauses to warn you to mind your screams. Someone could hear. At this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care. You both know the consequences were someone to walk in and see the Grand Admiral with his face between your legs. But he doesn’t take risks unless he’s confident in the odds. Or he’s just decided it’s worth it.

He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. You can feel the cold metal of his epaulet digging into your skin. The change in position opens you to him. You fix the image in your mind, of Thrawn there between your legs. The contrast of his blue skin against yours, the alien ridges of his forehead, his lips and tongue lapping at your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better, his red eyes locked on you.

Without thinking, you put your hand on his head, stroking your fingers through his sleek, dark hair. Too intimate. Again, he catches your wrist, moves it away.

“Sorry,” you say. He doesn’t answer. He wraps his arm around your thigh, yanking you closer to his mouth, and then pushes one finger into you. More. The drug wants more. He works a second in easily and lets you ride them for a moment before pinning your hips down.

“Please fuck me.” You don’t care how desperate you sound. You’re already close, oversensitized from the drug and the hours of torturous denial.

“Not yet.”

“Why not? When?”

His eyes meet yours. “Questioning a superior officer?” He pauses, with a deliberate, slow lick of his tongue right over your clit. You nearly cry.

“Lieutenant?” He prompts you.

“N-no sir.” Your voice is breathy, broken. You can feel pleasure starting to roll over you in waves, your body responsive to every little touch.

He takes pity on you. Doesn’t tease or hold back or draw it out, at least not any more than he already has. Perhaps his way of saying thank you for what you did for him. Because you know him, as much as anyone can know Thrawn, and you know better than to expect to hear it.

The drug steals any more coherent thought, but Thrawn claims your pleasure. He is relentless, drinking it down, alternately suckling your clit and lapping at your folds with the broad flat of his tongue, his fingers reaching the perfect spot that yours couldn’t, that you haven’t been able to satisfy for months. He curls his fingers, and you’re gone, dissolving like sugar in his mouth. He lets you ride his face, keeps fucking his fingers into you as you moan and twitch, and squeeze your thighs around his ears. Again, the drug makes your release blaze bright and fast, but ultimately leaves you wanting.

At last, you sag backwards, legs wide, a wanton, debauched picture. Your tunic hangs open, and for a quiet moment you lie flat on the conference table where just minutes ago the Chimaera’s senior officers had gathered. Thrawn rises effortlessly, and when he does, you see his complexion is tinged indigo, and there is an obvious bulge in his trousers.

He’s watching you, taking in the sight of what he’s done, and you spread your legs wider. He licks his lips, eyes blazing.

“Now?” You ask hopefully.

His expression hardens, and he orders you to get dressed. He has to wipe off his mouth and chin, which are shiny with your arousal. Then, it’s back to the day’s schedule.

At least six more times, Thrawn decides to let you come, before you start to lose track completely. Rather than depriving you, he overloads you, flooding you with stimulation at every opportunity. He pulls you into a disused office, sits you up on the desk, and eats you out again. It shocks you each time he gets on his knees for you. He’ll smudge his white uniform and then everyone will know, they’ll see you together and know, Grand Admiral Thrawn is fucking his Lieutenant.

Following obediently after him from one part of the ship to another, you can feel how wet you are, your constant arousal dripping down your legs, you can feel your pussy slick as you walk. After the evening Intel brief, he backs you into a dark corner in a passageway, slips his hand down your pants and permits you to come on his fingers. There isn’t even the assurance of a hatch between the two of you and anyone who could come along, and yet you thrust and grind shamelessly against his hand, unable to keep quiet. He almost smiles when he tells you, really, Lieutenant, I expect you to at least attempt to control yourself. He kisses you, sealing his mouth over yours, swallowing down your keening cries. The one thought you can grasp, through the haze of lust, is that he’s achingly hard, pressing his erection against your hip as if he’s just barely holding back from touching himself.

Each climax tightens the drug’s feverish hold over you, and by the evening you can hardly stand for the desire boiling in your veins. Your uniform is a mess, rumpled and with an odd stain you hope is caf but you can’t remember how it happened. You imagine your face must be worse. Thrawn again straightens your rank plaque, and makes sure your cover isn’t askew.

His nearness makes you tremble.

He leads you back to the bridge once more for the evening report, and finally-- your heart leaps when you recognize the familiar path-- to his quarters.

The room is cold. Always cold, the way he likes it. You have wondered often what his home planet is like. Freezing, you assume. Somewhere icy and hospitable only to his people. You’ve wondered why he would ever leave it, when he so clearly doesn’t fit in here. The Empire has an ideal, and as brilliant as he is, Thrawn is not it.

He leaves you standing there in the center of his art collection, and dims the lights.

You wait for him as attentively as you can, though you’re shivering, standing at a tense parade rest.

After a stretch of silence he speaks. “Could you say ‘no’ right now, Lieutenant?” His voice is silky. His eyes seem to glow brighter in the dark. The sudden question puts you off balance.

“It-- it would depend on what’s being asked. Sir.”

“Imagine I were not your commanding officer, but a stranger. Or an enemy. And at this very moment, I am promising you relief from the effects of the drug, in exchange for classified information.” He circles behind you, and you turn to look at him but he stops you. “Eyes forward.”

Your pulse jumps, and you stand straighter at the command. A reminder of your rank, of your position, and Thrawn’s. “I would never do anything to compromise the Empire.” But your voice is too breathy to be convincing, and Thrawn steps closer, pressing himself against your back.

“But I’m offering.”

You make an inarticulate, desperate sound.

“Do you think you’d be able to refuse…?” He uses your given name, knowing exactly the effect it will have on you. The drug makes you dangerously suggestible.

“I would--” You understand his point. But there’s only one way to answer. “Yes, I would uphold my duty.”

“Your resolve is admirable. But I do not appreciate lies. Especially when they are so obvious.” He crowds you forward, so your hips hit the edge of his desk. The desk you’ve stood next to many times, attending to the Grand Admiral and whatever he asks of you. He puts a palm between your shoulders and forces you down face-first. His tone goes cold. “So I will allow you one more chance to answer. If I were anyone else, would you be able to control yourself?”

The only saving grace allowing you to reply at all is being able to hide your face in the crook of your arm, and not look him in the eye. “If it had been anyone else trapped in that room, I wouldn’t have offered in the first place.”

He stills. “I see.” Quietly, deliberately, he strips you of your service belt and your boots, pulls your trousers down to your calves. You whine in anticipation, shaking with need. It’s an effort not to lean in to every little touch.

You watch, fascinated, the scene in the dark, shadowy reflection of the transparisteel viewport. Behind you, Thrawn going to his knees. His hands opening your body to his inspection. Then, with no warning, his mouth is on your cunt again. His tongue licking hot and wet up your slit, one broad stroke, higher, no hesitation as his thumbs dig in to your flesh, holding you open and then he swirls his tongue around your asshole.

"Thrawn!" you squeal in surprise and embarrassment, completely forgetting his rank.

“Hmm.” He says. “You don’t like it?”

“I… ah…” You’re drooling on his desk. Like and dislike are beyond understanding. There is only need. You raise your hips, seeking contact. He gives it to you. He licks your hole again, flicking his tongue over and over until you’re panting, before he places his fingers there. He massages them gently around the sensitive, puckered skin, teasing you with penetration but never quite going in. You moan when you feel his tongue drag over your clit, reaching for the exquisite, building pressure, enslaved to the whims of the drug.

A day-- months’ of pent up need swells all at once and begins to overflow. Distantly, you hear yourself wail, feel yourself rocking against his face, no concept of anything except this sweet relief and him, between your legs, bestowing it upon you. At last, he pushes one finger in, and closes his lips around your clit, sucking slowly in time with your pulse, not stopping even as your legs shake. Your mind goes completely, divinely blank as pleasure sweeps over you, drowns everything else, wave after wave after wave…

It is a very different position in which you awaken, you don’t know how much later. You’re warm and cozy cocooned blankets, totally naked, in a stateroom you don’t recognize. It’s much bigger than yours.

Thrawn. You sit up with a jolt. It has to be his room. His bed. Turning, you bury your face in the pillow. It smells like him, though not strongly.

The galvi root has worn off. You only feel exhaustion, and uncertainty. Here, in Thrawn’s quarters, in his bed, a decision solidifies in your mind. You know what you have to ask him. Across the room, you see your uniform, neatly folded on an armchair. You ignore it. You lie back down, pulling his scent around you, and stay like that for a time, gazing out the viewport at the dark field of stars.

When you’re nearly asleep again, the hatch opens. Thrawn. You don’t know how to act around him anymore, which military courtesies to show him, but the idea of jumping out of his bed, naked, and coming to attention seems ridiculous.

“Did you get the data you needed?” Insofar as what you did today could be called an experiment, and a flawed one at that.

“I did.” He glances at your folded uniform on the chair, and comes around to stand at the side of the bed, his back to the viewport.

So many times you had dreamed of getting closer, of Thrawn letting you in. And now you’re going to distance yourself. “Sir, there’s something I need to--”

“I’m recommending you for promotion.” His tone is cold, his posture stiff and formal. Very much the Grand Admiral, and nothing of the man beneath, the glimpses you’d caught of sly humor, of tenderness, of want as strong as yours, kept under rigid control.

You sit up, blood rushing to your ears. He holds up a hand, and you fall silent.

“To Commander. You’ll serve as First Officer aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer Carnage.”

For a second, you’re too stunned to speak. Jumping ranks was almost unheard of-- Thrawn had done it, of course, multiple times, but your service record in the Imperial Navy is nothing like his. And First Officer aboard a Star Destroyer-- people worked their whole career to earn a position like that and he’s just handing it to you. “I’m not… that’s…”

“If you are going to protest that you’re not qualified, I’ll remind you that you have spent the better part of three years aboard this ship, serving by my side. You know the requirements and duties of an admiral and a Star Destroyer better than most, so you will be well-equipped to excel in the role of First Officer. As long as we are not in combat, you could probably run the ship in my absence. Or Commodore Faro’s, for that matter. I have complete faith in you.”

“Are you recommending me because of this? Because I slept with you?” You wince. It sounds so sordid and cliche. It wouldn’t be the first time ranks and promotions and choice assignments had been exchanged for favors.

He looks mildly surprised, as if it’s a question he hadn’t anticipated. “No. I already put in the recommendation a few weeks ago. It has nothing to do with our…” he pauses, showing rare discomfort “...association.”

You look down at your lap for a moment, chewing your lip, unsure what to say. A great emotion swells in your chest. You have to swallow it down. You aren’t sure whether it’s better that you didn’t have to ask for a transfer. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“The drug’s gone,” you tell him, as if he doesn’t know that. “I feel better now.”

He fixes you with a piercing stare. He is dark in silhouette in the unlit room, with only the starscape behind him.

You don’t want to leave. You don’t want to have some of your last experiences with the Grand Admiral tainted by something beyond your control. Feeling brazen and reckless, you let the covers fall, leaving your breasts exposed in the cold air. You look up at him, and lean back against his pillows, as leisurely as you please. His eyes flash and the air in the room seems to have gone very still. Have you angered him? Of all the lines crossed today, and the time before, was this the one too far? Is this a mistake?

You throw the covers back, and don’t miss the way his hand open-flexes and then closes into a tight fist. You slide out of bed, to your feet, standing in front of him. Close. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t even move. He is tempted, you think, but hiding it well. He’s thought about this, like you have, but never imagined giving in to it.

Heart pounding, fully expecting that he’ll catch your wrists again, you reach for his belt. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t stop you. You pop the catch, and let it fall into your hands before tossing it on the bed. His collar clasps next. These take a moment. You get them undone, but it’s always harder on someone else. Finally the sealing strip of his tunic. You peel it back, he slips his arms out, and you fold the white fabric carefully.

He lets you undress him. One final act of service under the intensity of his gaze. He seems to understand that you like tending to him. That it means something to you. He sits so you can pull off his boots. You unfasten his trousers and pull them down, listening to the sound of the fabric and his breathing in the dark.

Your body thrums with arousal, so potent it’s making your hands shake, every brush of your skin against Thrawn’s electric-charged with the knowledge that you’re choosing this and so is he.

Then he’s finally bare, completely, and gathering you in his arms.

His lips hover over yours, he whispers your name and then he kisses you, sweet and soft and you feel like you’re falling. You moan into his mouth and he pulls you closer, answering your need. The momentum of it carries you down to his bed together and you wonder distantly how often he even uses it. More times than you can count, you’ve come into his office to find him asleep at his desk. Something in your heart aches for him, a feeling so fragile and incomprehensible, you shove it far, far down, almost enough to extinguish it.

The quiet makes your touches measured and slow. Not wanting to rush anything. Not wanting to betray that you’re suddenly nervous, without the structure and expectations of rank between you. The Grand Admiral. That’s all you’ve ever known Thrawn as, and now he’s kissing your neck, leaving a bruise high enough that your collar won’t cover it.

You gasp his name, and he huffs a quiet laugh, as if he’s been caught at mischief. He kisses lower, your breastbone, covering your breasts in his hands, his fingers plucking at tightened nipples.

He watches you closely, riveted, pinning you with the same intense focus you’ve seen when he’s studying a piece of art, or commanding the Chimaera in battle. Except now you’re at the center of it, arching to his touch, so turned on you can hardly breathe, you want him so badly.

You can feel his cock achingly hard against your stomach, he’s rolling his hips, so you lift to him. He’s shaking as he enters you. He braces himself on his forearms and rocks in slowly, inch by inch. You whimper at the stretch, at how kriffing good his cock feels filling you up.

He chases your mouth, like he can’t kiss you enough, swallowing down each tender little sound you make. You can almost taste when his resolve begins to slip. You’re so slick and hot around him and this is the last time and anything after this doesn’t matter.

He fucks you deep and steady, grinding his hips and you move with him. He takes in the sight of you beneath him, something to keep for later; the light sheen of sweat, tendons going tight in your neck and you start to moan at every thrust. Both of you holding back, trying and failing to draw it out, all the tightly-held control swept away. Thrawn presses forward, hard, his thick length splitting you open over and over.

Clinging to him with a longing cry, you come, pulsing and tight, riding the pleasure as long as you can, not wanting it to end. And Thrawn is there with you. He’s trembling, his abdomen tense with the climax building in his body, just driving in until he comes with a harsh moan, burying his face against your neck.

Two weeks later, you’re wearing the rank plaque of a Commander of the Imperial Navy, and things are going relatively smoothly aboard the ISD Carnage. Thrawn had not attended your promotion ceremony, nor had you asked him. You’d only been his aide, after all, and it would have looked strange for a Grand Admiral to show up for a subordinate so far beneath his rank.

You wish he would’ve been there to pin the new rank on your chest. It would have been easier, at least, with him there, instead of being by yourself to weather the suspicious, jealous glares of other officers who were wondering what exactly you’d done to get the promotion. But you’ve assumed the post of First Officer aboard the Carnage all the same, and now you try not to think about him too much.

You check your terminal one morning, and find, among the frankly disgusting number of messages you get every day, one from [GADM THRAWN] with the subject [PROPOSAL (OPTIONAL)].

You can’t click it open fast enough.

Commander,

I hope you are settling into your new assignment comfortably.

The Chimaera is scheduled for a port call at Brentaal IV at the same time as the Carnage will be granted shore leave on the neighboring Chandrila. I propose a meeting to continue experimentation with the galvi root extract. Specifically, it would be beneficial to run additional controls without the drug. If you are amenable, contact me on my private frequency--

You still know the one. Know it by heart. You can’t help smiling to yourself.

--and we will discuss logistics.

V/R

Grand Admiral Thrawn

ISD Chimaera, 7th Fleet

//end.

☆ tag list ☆ join ☆

@crosshairs-wife @vibratingbonesbis @thrawns-teef-weef @debonaire-princess

Also tagging a few others who had expressed interest in a part 2 :)

@annoyinglylegendarygoose @erusanya @courier-jackalope

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

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