If you ever wanted one where Thrawn gets bitten and fucked with his own blood, here you go 😈😇 (dubcon; mind the tags)
…
Adrenaline is already coursing hot and reckless through his veins with every rapid beat of his heart: an ambush; a flurry of brief yet brutal violence; and then, in the aftermath… an unnatural stillness, and Thrawn looks up to find Ba’kif’s gaze locked on him, unwavering, unblinking.
The familiar red glow of Ba’kif’s eyes has somehow brightened to a near-white; the smell of fresh blood and death is thick and cloying on the air in the small space. Lifeless bodies lie strewn across the floor from the failed attempt on— Thrawn’s life? Ba’kif’s? It doesn’t matter, in that moment— and as Ba’kif’s gaze flicks almost imperceptibly to one side and back again, Thrawn finally feels the cut stinging on his cheek. The bright, fiery line of pain in his flesh, and the wet trail of his own blood trickling slowly down his skin.
Thrawn doesn’t look away from Ba’kif’s intense gaze. He can’t, and he wouldn’t even if he could. He’s breathing hard, his pulse thundering in the hollow of his throat as he slowly raises one hand and runs his fingertips through the blood on his cheek— then over his lips and tongue in a wet smear of hot coppersalt that’s simultaneously repellent and compelling—
Ba’kif snarls and moves faster than should be physically possible, closing the gap between them in the blink of an eye. Thrawn has a split second to feel utterly paralyzed by a primal, exhilarating terror— before Ba’kif is somehow behind him, fingers like steel at his throat and breath coming hot on his neck.
“You…” Ba’kif growls, panting, drawing out each word into a hiss, “look… delicious.”
(look, in my defense that scene was REALLY hot and if you just imagine those two as Chiss they fit my Ascendancy Thrawn and Ba'kif headcanons to a tee 😩🤤)
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Pure, unapologetic Ba'kif/Thrass/Thrawn smut! Mind the (age) gap and the dubcon for pheromone-driven fucking 😏
[x]
Ba’kif was just finishing up his reports for the day and looking forward to heading home for some supper— and maybe a nice glass of Coperan brandy— when his questis lit up with a call from his outer office.
Ba’kif sighed, then answered.
“Yes?”
“Sir, Lieutenant Commander Thrawn is here to see you,” came his assistant’s voice, equal parts cautious and… concerned. “With… Aristocra Mitth’ras’safis. He says it’s urgent.”
Ba’kif frowned. “Very well, send them in. And don’t worry about sticking around to lock up, I’ll handle it,” he added. So much for not working late for once. At least someone else could go home on time.
There was a nearly imperceptible hesitation. “Yes, sir.”
The connection cut off and Ba’kif began clearing away his work, his frown deepening. His confusion and concern deepened along with it when Thrawn walked into his office with Thrass a few moments later. The young officer looked about as close to distraught as Ba’kif could ever imagine him being, worry etched vividly on his face; and Thrass—
The scent hit Ba’kif like a punch to the gut as Thrass drifted to a stop in the middle of the room, looking around with slightly glazed eyes.
If you had to remix an older Thrawn fic -- your own or someone else's -- which one would it be and what would you do?
askjdfhhdfkff okay please correct me if I don't actually know what fic remixes are, but 😂
First thing that came to mind is your Thrakif fic Branded cause I adore the fic and the whole premise, just, so goddamn much. I just want a million slightly different versions of your fic specifically, so Ba'kif can give overwhelmed horny subby young Thrawn every possible First in front of a very appreciative audience.
So yeah... if I was gonna remix that, it'd probably be like. Ba'kif POV for the flip, cockwarming in place of bondage, and all the other elements in place: possessive clothed Ba'kif sitting naked Thrawn on his dick for awhile, fucking him real slow on one of the couches with Thrawn leaning back against his front and getting increasingly worked up from watching the rest of the orgy and watching everyone else watching him--
...wow I'd say "that got horny fast" but it just kinda started there right out the gate, huh
ok, search your WIPs for the word "lips" and post any line of your choice containing that word (since you didn't reblog the ask game I am bringing the ask game forcibly to your inbox instead)
asdjhsdkfjhsdf 🤣💙
You're not going to believe me but I have NO active WIPs right now, it feels so weird 😂 So uhhh here have a line from one I started ages ago and haven't touched in forever 🙈
The worst part was, Thrawn looked fucking good like this— casual clothes rumpled, hair disheveled, his cheeks bright with arousal and his lips already kiss-swollen from Ba’kif’s mouth.
It wasn't the way Ba'kif liked doing business. Many of his colleagues, in fact, would never move this quickly for anything short of all-out war.
But the summons had come directly from Stybla Patriarch Stybla'mi'ovodo's office, and the Patriarch had said it concerned Senior Captain Thrawn, and that was all Ba'kif needed to know.
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Winter Prompt Challenge ❄️ Day 6: Hypothermia/frostbite
Travelling back to the Chiss Ascendancy for Day 6, with some Thrakif hurt/comfort, Ba’kif being protective, and Thrawn being... well, Thrawn.
“We’re here, sir,” the pilot called back in a tense voice.
Ba’kif was already opening the door to climb out of the small shuttle before the pilot had quite brought them to a full stop. The wind buffeted him the moment he jumped out into the howling storm, whipping his hood off and exposing his neck and ears to the biting cold until he’d wrestled it back up again after clipping on the safety line attached securely to his belt.
The cadets’ locator beacons were fairly precise, but they didn’t have pinpoint accuracy. And with visibility so low, Ba’kif knew he could walk right past Thrawn and not see him, even if he were only a couple meters away.
And if he’d lost the beacon— or if he’d been injured and was buried in the rapidly deepening snow—
Ba’kif turned and headed towards a darker shadow of a blur faintly visible through the white of the storm; a blur that resolved itself into a shallow depression in the rocky cliff face as he got closer. It was nowhere near deep enough to be considered a cave even by the broadest definition— but it would be enough to provide some limited shelter from the elements.
And that was exactly where he found Thrawn, curled up unmoving around the remnants of a small, already burned-out fire.
“Thrawn!” Ba’kif bellowed, the wind tearing the name from his lips and whipping it away almost before he’d finished speaking it. He forced his way through the last few paces of snow, the drifts deep enough to come halfway up his thighs, and finally stumbled into the little hollowed-out shelter. The cadet hadn’t so much as stirred. Ba’kif dropped to his knees to get closer, heart lurching with relief when he felt a faint puff of warm breath against his cheek. Thrawn was alive— but he was in bad shape.
Ba’kif wasted no time picking Thrawn up and throwing the cadet over his shoulder. Pulling his safety line taut, he switched it back to retract and staggered through the gale, following the thin yet strong metal cable back to the waiting shuttle.
“He’s alive, barely. Turn the heat up and get us back to base,” Ba’kif ordered the pilot the moment he’d gotten into the small vessel, still carrying Thrawn’s motionless form. “Call it in the minute we’re close enough for comms.”
“Yes, sir,” the pilot answered crisply.
Ba’kif could hear the worry in the pilot’s tone, but put everything else out of his mind as he lowered Thrawn to the floor and grabbed the emergency medkit off the bulkhead. Thrawn was still breathing, but his winter gear was caked with snow and ice, already starting to melt and drip in the warmth of the shuttle. As quickly as he could, Ba’kif wrestled the young man out of his frozen clothes, one layer at a time; discarding them off to the side so he and Thrawn wouldn’t just end up in a puddle of cold water as it all thawed.
He yanked off his own snow-caked outer clothes too, until he was shirtless; then lay down with Thrawn next to the warm air vent and wrapped the emergency blanket from the kit around them both, tucking it between Thrawn and the floor as well. Thrawn’s skin was chill to the touch, cold against his front, and Ba’kif curled around him, pulling the blanket tighter to trap as much of his own body heat in there with them as possible.
“Stubborn bloody fool of a cadet, what in the hell were you thinking… Not turning on your emergency comm until it was too damn late.” Ba’kif hardly noticed he was muttering, distracting himself from worry while he vigorously rubbed at Thrawn’s arms and chest to try and get the blood flowing again. “If you even turned the blasted thing on at all—”
“I did.”
Thrawn’s voice was faint, weak; barely even audible— but it was there.
“You did what, Cadet?” Ba’kif asked gruffly. Keep him talking. Keep him conscious. He probably had frostbite, but that at least could be dealt with once Ba’kif had gotten him back to the hospital at the training base.
“I did… turned it on.”
“That’s good, Thrawn. You did the right thing,” Ba’kif said, but Thrawn shook his head; a feeble little twitch that Ba’kif could only feel through the tickle of Thrawn’s hair against his bare chest.
“No. Too late. Thought it was… training.”
Ba’kif sighed. That’s what he’d been afraid of. That blasted storm had come up out of nowhere, and Thrawn had, of course, assumed it was all intended to be part of the senior cadets’ survival field training for extreme conditions. He’d also clearly tried to last it out way too long before activating his emergency comm, because of course he was more worried about about the prospect of failure than death.
“We’ll talk about that later,” Ba’kif said, still rubbing warmth back into Thrawn’s arms. Thrawn was starting to shiver against him, at least. That was good. It meant his own body was trying to warm him up again. “Tell me what happened.”
“You came for me,” Thrawn said instead of answering, his voice almost dreamy despite the chattering of his teeth. “I knew it… Knew you cared.”
Ba’kif frowned. “Of course I care, Cadet. You’re a soldier in the Defense Force—”
“Mm. No,” Thrawn said muzzily, somehow managing to twist around far enough to nuzzle the side of his face into Ba’kif’s shoulder. “You care. About me. I could always tell…”
He trailed off into another bout of violent shivers, curling up tightly again, and Ba’kif felt something guilty swelling in his throat. Officers weren’t supposed to play favourites. Plenty did, of course— people were people, and no amount of regulations would ever change that. Ba’kif, however, had always prided himself on not being party to that sort of political maneuvering within the CDF.
…But somehow, with Thrawn, it was different. Ba’kif wasn’t sure he could honestly have said another cadet would have gotten his personal attention like this. He was the one who had immediately checked the logs to see if Thrawn specifically had called in for pickup yet when the furious, unanticipated storm had begun building over the training zone. And… the truth was, he’d only done that because he’d been following Thrawn’s time at the Academy closely enough to know that he probably wouldn’t try and call in until it was too late; until the storm had already gotten powerful enough to disrupt comms throughout the region.
Thrawn shuddered again, whimpering softly— he was probably starting to get some undoubtedly painful feeling back in his extremities— and Ba’kif became abruptly aware of just how inherently intimate their position was. Thrawn, naked and clinging weakly to his arm under the emergency blanket; Ba’kif himself clad only in his long thermal underwear and curled protectively around the young man, his own body pressed against as much of Thrawn’s skin as he could manage.
He hadn’t done it with any ulterior motives whatsoever, his intentions centered entirely around getting Thrawn’s body temperature back up. And this was, hands-down, the best way of doing that under the circumstances. But—
I could always tell…
Ba’kif swallowed. He’d heard about, and witnessed firsthand once or twice, Thrawn’s rather uncanny knack for reading people, and he couldn’t help wondering nervously just what Thrawn might have… seen in him but never mentioned. He’d told himself that his feelings towards the young man were nothing more than those of a proud mentor, of sorts— perhaps fatherly at most— so often he’d almost managed to convince himself that it was actually true.
But it wasn’t true, not entirely. At the beginning, yes; but it had become less and less true over the course of Thrawn’s three years of training based out of Taharim Academy.
Pushing those thoughts firmly out of his mind, and pointedly not noticing how well Thrawn fit in his arms, Ba’kif turned his focus back to keeping Thrawn warm, and talking, and awake—
And tried very hard not to think about the fact that he couldn’t quite decide whether or not he hoped Thrawn would forget everything about this shuttle ride once he’d recovered.
Joint effort with @draculard for another Thrawn Kinkmeme fill 😁 but honestly drac did all the hard work
The chirp of his communicator woke him, and because it had to be somewhere around midnight, Ba’kif knew immediately who was calling him. There was only one person who had the audacity not just to call him directly, bypassing his aide, but to also call him whenever he pleased, and that was Thrawn.
With a quiet groan, he rubbed the grit out of his eyes and held the comlink up to look at the display. Unsurprisingly, the incoming call was labeled “Thrawn.” More interesting, though, was that Thrawn was apparently requesting a video call, something Ba’kif had never known him to do.
He settled back against his pillow, determined to stay comfortable, and clicked ‘accept.’
What he saw and heard killed the greeting on his lips.
The camera on Thrawn’s end was moving so quickly that all Ba’kif could see was a shaky dark blur; the camera seemed to be shifting rapidly from one end of the room to the other, and at one end, Ba’kif could catch a fleeting glimpse of artificial light, like the glow from a questis screen. It was difficult to explain the rapid shaking, but Ba’kif knew that Thrawn’s communicator was attached to his wrist.
And he could hear heavy breathing. And the sound of skin on skin. And—
