#Empire really doesn't like to lose its toys

[biteofcherry]

hiii! Since you quite a lot write breeding kink I want to ask how many kids each Steve you written for will have?

Do I write it a lot? Really? I haven't noticed! 🤭🤭🤭

All the kids of all the Steves? Oh boy, that's gonna be a full kindergarten, lol 😂 Mind you, for the most part it's only just how I imagine it, not something that will be written into the stories.

under the cut, because I have too many Steves there's no such thing as too many Steves

GOT Alpha Steve will have two sets of twins 😏 After the second pregnancy turns out to be with twins again, Sweet Brat threatens to cut off Steve's balls if he ever gets her pregnant again. Though, I am still toying with the idea of their double twins being a bit older when the third, most unexpected pregnancy happens for them again 🤭

Nesting Steve, as we know, is planning on a full soccer team 😂 No, but seriously, they're gonna have four for sure. Not more. But four definitely.

Dom Steve and Darling will have one biological kid. They will also adopt one or two kids.

HNV Alpha Steve doesn't have a set number he strives to have, he simply takes it in stride - as in, however his Omega's body is able to give him. I think three is a given.

Mountain rescuer Steve is gonna be a father of two, probably. I admit I haven't thought much about their future, beside the breeding kink being fun and messy and kinky af with them 😏

Enforcer Steve, oh that dirty kinky motherfucker is gonna have a bunch. Simply because he can't stop filling Cherry and she turns out to be a quite fertile little thing (which turns him on even more). Three to four kids are gonna hop around that house, for sure. They will need a separate wing, so they don't get traumatized by their parents being so filthy 😂

Dark mafia Steve? I kinda want to leave this blank, but it would seem telling anyway, right? 😈 I mean, we're speaking hypothetical here and all, nothing set in stone. Three

New World Order Steve would have one or two kids, not more. Not with the whole post apocalyptic dystopian shit going on.

Camboy Steve, I admit I haven't imagined their future that far ahead. I definitely see them as getting married at some point and possibly starting a family, but it's probably gonna be one or two kids.

Goldi locked Alpha Steve (and the other two Alphas in that universe) is going to be a lot like HNV Alpha Steve, meaning that he's into breeding forever and letting the nature take its course with Omega's body. It's gonna be at least three kids. Possibly more.

Fringe Benefit Steve (and Bucky) would have two kids.

Farmer Alpha Steve is probably going to have at least three 😂 I mean, it's hard not to go that route when the whole point of him is this housewife vibe and losing your ambitions to be a good Omega that fits on a farm and is eager to be taken over a haystack.

Little Worshiper Steve (and Bucky) I'm not sure yet, because I haven't thought about them starting a family yet. I can imagine them having twins and then maybe one more baby.

Captain Rogers won't have any kids with Sprite. At least I haven't imagined it happening.

Leshy Steve won't have any kids, not in the biological sense.

Darth Nomad Steve would have one baby (and Stardust's pregnancy is what pushes him to kill off the Emperor and take over the empire himself)

[al-astakbar]

☆ The Gift -- Thrawn x reader ☆

>title ☆ The Gift ☆part 10/?

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

>pairing ☆  Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [2.1k] ☆ warnings for this part ☆ spanking, sex, dirty talk > series warnings ☆ dubious consent; sexual slavery; concubine/ sex slave AU; will add more warnings as more parts are posted

>series navigation ☆ part 1 ☆ part 2 ☆ part 3 ☆ part 4 ☆ part 5 ☆ part 6 ☆ part 7☆ part 8 ☆ part 9 ☆ part 10

>posted on ao3

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

Cheunh translations at the end***

A pervasive sense of guilt makes the early days of your acquaintance with Thrawn especially dark. You had hoped that perhaps with time and of course, the demands of a Grand Admiral’s schedule, he might lose interest in you. 

He doesn’t. He watches you, somehow still aloof, but you catch him in moments when his curiosity burns bright in those red eyes. What exactly he wants from you, you aren’t certain. Sometimes you think he just wants you gone, or at least out of his way. Only his desire for you is clear. And feeling the force of that pure, carnal need… for you. On you. In you… 

Your resolve not to enjoy it, and not to let him corrupt your will, are tested constantly. 

Every time you get hot, thinking about his hands on you, it’s accompanied by shame. Shame for your physical need to feel his touch and for liking it and wanting more. Shame for this sort of unexpected connection with him, of all people. Someone lower ranking, maybe, that wouldn't have been so bad. Everyone needs a job, and not everyone joins the Empire because they agree with its policies. But Thrawn... he's high enough in the chain of command to know what he's doing, what he's enforcing, the systems he's holding up-- he has to have some idea of how it’s hurting people. 

You should not be comfortable with him, partaking in the luxury of a warm, soft bed and good food and leisure time. You should not enjoy arguing with him, and you should not like the way he almost smiles when he tells you that you have the temperament of a gundark. 

Worse, you should not daydream about him. You should not think longingly of how it would feel for him to truly, completely possess you. He could have hidden you away somewhere, found a small compartment for you, stashed away like a toy for him to take out and use for his amusement. The thought of it is not as off-putting as you tell yourself it should be. And there is the center of all of it, the silent, deepest sort of shame. Some awful part of you likes-- wants-- to be subject to his whim.

All these conflicting feelings and frustrations make you very bratty. You know you’re testing his patience, just can’t help it. First and second infractions, he frowns at your bad behavior, and if he feels like it, he’ll tie you up and gag you. Ignore you for hours, sometimes. Being messy with your clothes and dishes, leaving your nicely embroidered garments in piles on the floor, going slow getting ready, just being generally contrary… the third time you do something he’s already told you not to do, he bends you over his desk and spanks you. Not playful. No warning. This is the discipline he promised that first night. He manhandles you, ignoring your cries of surprise, and then your tears. He pins you down, one strong arm across your lower back, legs bracketing yours so you can’t kick. Even though the fabric of your robes is quite thin, he always rucks it up. Bare skin to his full uniform. Humiliating. Most of the time he doesn’t bother to take his gloves off. 

He presses himself against your hip to keep you in place, and as he does, you can feel his cock getting hard. It’s worse for your self control, knowing that it turns him on too. You can only pray that he doesn’t notice what he’s doing to you. He goes slow, timing and placing each sharp smack exactly as he wants. Never quite in the same spot.  Each one sends a new shock of arousal through you, the stinging pain somehow striking directly in your core and setting your nerves alight. He spanks your ass and you feel it in your cunt. You feel empty. You yearn for him, to have his cock fill you, overstretch you, to clench and feel nothing else but his hot, hard shaft. 

Your squirming and crying and begging do not sway him to be merciful. His attentions leave your ass hot and red, and he tells you it will help you to better mind him. He watches you keenly the rest of the day, as if he can sense your pulsing, unmet desire. As if daring you to ask him for what you need.

One morning, when he’s done, he does not flip the fabric back down. He leaves you exposed, a teary, quivering mess. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, sniffling. You had kept tapping your foot while at the breakfast table with him, and after he had told you to stop, you had done an insolent extra tap. Other times, he has admonished you for leaving your nice robes on the floor in a careless pile. He always picks them up, examining them with interest, and then drops them again, only to order you to clean up after yourself. 

“I know,” he says, not unkindly. He smoothes a hand over your abused skin. “You will learn. You’ll learn to ask for what you want..”

What you want…  The words catch in your throat, and end as a strangled moan. He caresses you, much too gently. He was not supposed to be like this.

You hear the rustle of shifting fabric, so familiar now, you know what it portends. Then you feel him, blunt and hard at your entrance. You have to stop yourself from pushing your hips back. He exhales in satisfaction as he sinks into you. Inch by inch, nothing forced. He runs his hands up and down your sides, following your curves. Taking his size is still not easy, no matter how slow he goes or how wet you are. You had never followed his first-night edict of making yourself ready for him. 

He rocks his hips, deeper still, and the pain of the spanking tips over to a sweet, aching soreness. Release is right there, so close and so tempting. You can’t help clenching around his thick, hard cock and he huffs out a breath when he feels it. “Mar… tta ba csei. K’ir hah csaah, eunh in’a.” 

You grab at one of his hands to steady yourself, to remind yourself that it’s him, that no matter how enticing his voice sounds, how rough with need in whatever language he’s speaking, how fucking good his cock feels as he fucks you open-- your pleasure is for yourself and not him. You must cling to that.. But he likes this too. He likes you. He gets hard every time he spanks you, and the reminder of how much that turns him on makes you tighten around him.

He slides his arm under you, lifting you to him easily, your back flush against his chest. He holds your breasts, one and then the other, squeezing firmly, rolling and pinching your nipples until he finds just the right amount of pressure to make you moan. And he does it again, over and over. Pulling your nipples to stiff little points to spark every nerve with brightening, insistent need. The only way you’d ever like them touched, and he figures it out in seconds. 

He’s found yet another way to torture you, tease you to madness, while still nominally respecting your wishes. “What was it you said?”  His breath is hot on your neck as he pumps into you lazily. “Don’t try to make it nice for you. Is this nice for you…?” He murmurs your name, and you would swear he’s smirking. 

He knows it is, damn him, and he stops just as soon as you begin to arch to his touch. 

“Thrawn…” You sob in frustration, “--Thrawn, I’m going to--”  at the overwhelming, singular need. You’re so close. So close to giving in, so close to asking, but you know that would only be the beginning. If you asked, he would make you beg. All it would take is one touch, maybe not even that. 

He does not wait for you. As he gets close, he lowers his mouth to suck bruising kisses onto your neck. Very briefly, you wonder what his crew would think, if they saw their venerated Grand Admiral like this. He starts to lose his rhythm, his hips grinding against your sore ass. His cock is bigger than you should be able to take-- but you are taking it. Taking all of him so good, every sense blazing with desire as he fucks you. He swears under his breath, slipping into that strange harmonic language again. 

“Vah cart bat, vim veo ch’itart’asi cart csiz.” You can feel his intensity, his need.He is going to drag you over the edge with him, if not this time, then the next, and once he does, he will truly own you. “Ch’ah-- nnhhh ravri’ihah-- ch’ah ch’epasahn ch’at ran’cah vah racan sesvio’ah ch’eo vuv.” 

You moan his name, a plea, a warning— tension in a string pulled too tight and about to snap—-

Thrawn grunts, and cums hard. His fingers dig into your bare skin, almost too hard, his thick length splitting you open as he pushes himself in to the hilt, as deep as he can go. You feel him stiffen, and then the first hot gush of his cum as his cock pulses inside you. He holds you closer, tighter, overfilling you as he likes to do. So much that you think you might feel your belly swelling up until it starts to leak out, down your legs. He keeps fucking his seed into you slowly, even as he is coming down. His breathing is ragged, more so than you’ve heard before. 

He looks so different in these moments, when you risk peeking over your shoulder to see him. His lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded, his sleek hair falling in his eyes, a purplish tinge to his cheeks which you suppose must be his species’ version of flushed skin. Imperfection looks good on him. 

When he is done, he puts his uniform right and then he tends to you. He has never yet neglected to do this. Even if he has just spanked you, and taken nothing else, he fetches a damp cloth and wipes your face. You try to ignore how nice it feels. How simple, and quiet, and intimate. That he is taking time just for you. He brings a flowery-smelling ointment  and rubs it on your bare, welted ass, soothing the skin until again, all you feel is the warm, insistent pull of arousal. 

Your imagined version of him would be much easier to hate. This kindness is some manipulation of his, you think, though you can’t quite reason through to why. The only thing he never punishes is back talk. You have a sharp tongue, he tells you once, and he finds it entertaining when you challenge his reasoning. 

“You’ll learn,” he repeats. He cleans his cum off your thighs, between your legs. “You know what you want, eunh in’a.”

You can hardly bear his touch there, so sensitive, still primed and trembling with need. He has a way of distracting you from your shame, of washing it away, at least for a little while. Nothing else matters when you want him, and he knows it. 

“What is that word?” You ask, voice small. 

He helps you stand, helps you dress. 

“What does… eunh in’a mean?” You repeat, the foreign sounds thick and awkward in your mouth. 

He does not answer. He runs his fingers over the embroidery after he has settled your robe around your shoulders— he has inspected it closely before, yet it still fascinates him. The colors--his blue skin against the gold fabric-- complement each other. 

“You do very fine work,” he says at last. 

The thought of telling him has crossed your mind a few times. You’ve even wondered if he already knows. “Did it really take you this long to figure it out?”

“I suspected the day we met. Aboard the shuttle. Your face flushed when I complimented the high quality of the work.” He tilts his head. “You are having the same reaction now. There is no need for embarrassment. As I have said, it is beautifully done.”

“I’m not embarrassed!” You begin hotly. “I’m—!”

He raises his eyebrows at your outburst. “...thank you.” You feel suddenly foolish, and rightly chastised. No one else had ever said so much as a word about it. “I’m… I’m proud of it.” You can’t help the small smile you give him. Long after he has gone up to the bridge, his words keep surfacing in your mind while you are staring out the viewport at the starfield, thinking vaguely about where you could possibly take refuge if you did manage to escape the Chimaera. Nowhere, is the realistic answer, and you are almost ready to accept that. Alone with his art, you hold on to his praise, turning it over and over like a small precious stone.

dirty Cheunh for all you freaks :)

cheunh tranx:

“Mar… tta ba csei. K’ir hah csaah, eunh in’a.” -- yes... more of that. do it again, little one

“Vah cart bat, vim veo ch’itart’asi cart csiz.” -- you are beautiful and your desperation is exquisite.

“Ch’ah-- nnhhh ravri’ihah-- ch’ah ch’epasahn ch’at ran’cah vah racan sesvio’ah ch’eo vuv.” -- i -- nnnhh fuck-- i want to feel you cum around my cock

☆join tag list☆ <- this is the easiest way to make sure your request is recorded, however anyone is also welcome to dm me if they want to be added or removed.

@thrawns-babygirl @vibratingskull @thrawns-teef-weef @aethersecho @exoplorationn @elc3004 @littlecrowtime @twilekchiss @saber-slutt @projectdreamwalker @ele-millennial-weirdo @vaarians @shoe-bag @thrawnspetgoose @nomercyforthewarrior @pb-jellybeans @twincesskorisoka @jewelliffer @cecilyjmorgenstern @mandinlore @bobaprint @bluechiss @andrakass2 @nocturneabyss @starwh0ers @obbicrystaleo @pencil-urchin

[karnpuffs]

Judging by the neatly lined up toy soldiers in his room, Syril probably worshipped troopers as heroes as a child and believed the empire was good and that following its rules was the right thing to do. But he doesn't actually want to blindly follow this system, it doesn't fit him, he feels the need to improve it. He sees its errors.

He inspects, analyzes, and draws his conclusions. He bends the rules to his liking and tailors them. Like his mother, he snoops around. This certainly doesn't endear him to the empire, because they don't want anyone who steps out of line and questions them. Syril is not a perfect cog in the system or a soldier, but a sleuth. An unrestrained tracking dog that sticks his nose into things that are none of his business. So much so that when he picks up a scent, he must follow it. He just can't help himself.

This becomes evident when Syril looks at Cassian Andor's face before going to bed - it's a holoprojector image file that he's not really supposed to have, since he was ordered to turn in everything related to the case after he was fired. He's obsessed, he *needs* to chase Andor. Otherwise he'd lose his sense of self. Syril, to me, is not a classic villain who's seeking revenge. He's seeking approval. Like a dog that wants a treat. Praise. A pat on the head and someone to tell him, "good boy". And in the end it doesn't matter who says it.

[jean-stamos]

Bearing another child was an idea I had locked up a long, long time ago, determined never to revisit again.

When my son Dillon was born, I knew right then and there that I had been blessed with the most perfect child. Though unplanned, my then-husband, Jayson, and I welcomed him with open arms and loved him with everything we had.

Dillon was the happiest little baby. Always smiling, always laughing, and barely ever fussed. Not with food, not with toys, not with anything. He liked to learn and explore, finding tiny bursts of happiness in things us adults have long since taken for granted. Our home was filled with his adorable little coos and giggles — the kind of joy we never knew we needed.

But his death... His death came too soon, and out of nowhere.

It was only supposed to be a cold. I mean, every child gets a cold every now and then, right? It would come, and it would go, and the children would go back to being children.

But when the illness came for my Dillon, they left with him, and took my entire world with them. And I haven't been the same since. We had never been the same since.

They say tragedy either brings people together or pushes them apart. Jayson and me? We didn't make it. Grieving for our son was too great a heartache to bear that we forgot we were going through the same hell. We blamed ourselves and each other for a situation that was out of our control. We were so full of anger and pain that we forgot we were supposed to be on the same side, comforting each other. We lost ourselves when we lost him, and eventually, we forgot we loved each other at all.

It was only a matter of time until Jayson and I decided to get a divorce. And since signing the papers, I've never looked back. I wanted to shut that chapter of my life, lock it up and throw it in the sea. I was determined to live life on my own. Never again would I get attached, this I promised myself. Never again will I have history repeating itself.

And it worked for a while. For years, really. And honestly, being a lone wolf wasn't as bad as people make it out to be. To distract me from my grief, I'd work day in and day out, building my business, my empire. I had everything I needed.

Or so, I thought.

Adrian was only supposed to be a one-night-stand. Just like the rest of the men I'd kick out of my hotel room before they had the stupid idea of sleeping over. But all it took was one night with him before I realised, he wasn't, at all, like the rest of them.

Adrian tore down the steel tower wall I had built around myself, bringing me out of my darkness and welcoming me into a life I never thought I deserved. He saw the monster that I am, saw the scared, broken woman at its core, and loved me fiercely anyway. And allowing myself to love Adrian back was the scariest concept, and biggest leap of faith of my life. But without a doubt, the best decision I've ever made.

It is because of him, and the home we've built together, that I felt safe bringing our little Serafina into the world. She brings us so much joy that my heart doesn't feel as broken anymore.

But that doesn't mean I don't miss my baby boy every day. I do, and I know I always will. If only he could be here and meet his little sister, I know he would love her with all his tiny little heart.

So, for him, for me, and for my Adrian, I promise to make sure our daughter is safe at all times, loved at all times, and protected at all times.

I refuse to relive my worst nightmare.

I refuse to lose all that I hold dear, ever again.

[egg-emperor]

Eggman is a villain. Remember when Eggman dominating the world was a thing in Sonic Forces? Pretty sure many suffered for that. He's really a menace like he had Sonic as a prisioner and didn't bother to unalive him IN THAT MOMENT just because he enjoyed more the idea of making others lose hope via him? Or the time he didn't care that Infinite dissapeared and instead get full mecha not giving a damn about his "indestructible invention". I don't think he even saw Infinite as nothing more than a weapon this is why I believe he was actually a sentimental creature with his memory completely erased, similar to Surge and Kit but this is more of a headcanon than a fact lol. Whatever the true is this only shows what you have said earlier about Eggman, that all his inventions are disposable no matter what

To know this isn't the worst he has done is something that shouldn't be ignored lol

YEAH Forces got it so right... It got absolutely everything right about Eggman and its only flaw is for such an important and significant role to the plot. He deserved way more screentime to see the full extent of his actions and plan on screen and spotlight in his temporary glorious victory and progress in taking over- but his characterization was perfect.

Forces is an example that Eggman is smart and capable and despite his massive ego, he has very real reasons to be as proud and confident as he is with his real 300 IQ genius and skills. It also shows that he has a reason to be so determined to win because he CAN in fact accomplish his goals, he just can't keep it as long as Sonic is around but it counts.

But I also like how he kept Sonic alive and imprisoned for six months so he could finish and show off his completed empire to him and break his last bit of hope and fully prove his victory and superiority over him before "banishing him" (definitely killing him lol) because it would've been much more satisfying to him than just killing him immediately.

Also while only present in English and people have their different opinions, I like the idea Sonic was tortured and that it's said to be Eggman specifically and not Infinite. I'd like to believe he would be delighted to toy with him in a few ways once he gets his hands on him, primarily psychologically. Love to imagine him having his fun with him.

He only saw Infinite as a tool and a weapon he'd use up for all he's worth and drop the moment he no longer needed him because he doesn't share, or failed him before. Proven by how he didn't care he was gone even despite his loyalty, he said victory would be sweeter to defeat Sonic himself and was delighted to surpass Infinite in power with the ruby.

Everyone has always been vessels for Eggman to manipulate and use for selfish gain and later discard like they're nothing, while others are enemies and obstacles to be destroyed, and everyone else is so worthless and insignificant to him that all they should be are mindless slaves to the empire. Everything is his to use and destroy as he pleases.

I adore how Infinite is yet another example, even despite his loyalty to him the whole time. It never makes Eggman see them as anything more, doesn't make them any more worthy, and still don't deserve a fraction of his power in ruling the world in the end because everyone and everything is beneath him and disposable no matter what.

That's a cool idea for Infinite! What also works is him being heavily manipulated by Eggman after discovering their shared desires through the phantom ruby, and maybe the Jackal Squad's doom and his hatred to Shadow was yet another way to take his devotion to the empire further and allow him to use the phantom ruby on him.

And even despite his lack of genuine long term respect and value of any of his lackeys and how they'll always be temporary and worth nothing more than what they can do for him no matter how badly they get hurt is bad enough, it is indeed not even the worst thing he's done and that's why he's a magnificent evil bastard through and through! 💜🥰

[violintrees]

I know it’s been ages but… 39 in angst with Z-18…

It was easy to work on mechanical things. It kept their mind focused. Keeps their robotic joints from getting stiff after all the rest they do these days. But the fact that the ship wasn't ready yet was making them nervous. They had run off again in the middle of the night to this little cove by the shore. They hadn't wanted to leave with Two sleeping their arms like that, but..

but what? This need to prove themself right was taking away what little time they had left in this nicer world. They should get back before Two notices anything is off again. They hate to worry him.

They wiped the grease from their goggles and lifted them up and turned to leave before jumping in surprise at Two standing right at the entrance of the cave.

Big pink tears streamed down his face. He clung violently to his arms and cloak. Patience dissipating in the sea of wretched grief Z had probably just put him through again. "WHY DO YOU KEEP TRYING TO LEAVE ME?"

It was like a plasma blast right to his chest. It knocked the air out of Z and they squeezed their eyes shut. The reaction must have been so terrible, because Two immediately realized what came out of his mouth and moved forward to remedy things while tears still rolled down his face.

"I'm sorry!! I shouldn't have said that I- I know that's what they must have said to you. I just-"

"No, no it's okay. I deserved it and"

"No you didn't. You aren't required to.. you can always go. Of course you can. I just don't understand."

Two sits down on the dark gray sandy floor with a crunch and buries his eyes into his hands.

"I worry everyday they are going to come and take you and then there are these days where I wake up and see you are gone and I just-" His throat hitches awkwardly as he tries to push words out. "I don't understand why you want to go so much."

Irkens weren't designed to sob.

"Why won't you open your eyes Z?" Zib still had his eyes squeezed closed as he had sunken himself to sitting on the floor.

“Because I know when I open my eyes this will all turn out to be a dream and I’ll lose you. Again.”

Two is silent after that. Mouth likely agape. Do they risk a peek? They cover their face and look through the little spaces between their mechanical hands.

"That's why I keep thinking it will be easier to just silently go. Rather than let you know and let you convince me to stay. I know I can't.. this can't be forever. It's just a matter of time before they decide this dream is enough."

".. And how long will you believe that?"

"I.. I don't know."

"Again, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. You are of course free to go, but there are now two conditions."

"Oh?"

"One. You MUST tell me when you are leaving and you are not allowed to be captured by the empire again."

"Oh I am not allowed?"

"No. You aren't. Do you accept my terms?"

"Quite the deal maker you are." Z slides over to where Two is sitting and wraps him up in a hug. "I do agree. And.. if I do go and if I really.. if you really helped free me from them for good.

I will find you again."