#apologies for the delay! u v u

[sea-buns]

On the chance.of things getting 'messy' with Orym. I think they already sort of have started hitting a building crisis point, if we're truly at the point that even among his friends he's now resorting to losing still more sleep just so he can sneak off in the middle of the night to genuinely pray to a light aligned being in order to ask for help without feeling like he'll be judged for or otherwise condescended to for it. That's actually kind of alarming honestly in how it shows another way he's feeling isolated/set apart from the rest of them and I am very curious is Tal made Ashton's perception role and caught he was doing so because I want to see how they in particular will respond to that decision, not because of what it says about about how Orym feels about the Gods but because of what it says about how isolated emotionally Orym still feels from them.

He and Ashton have a great restart at supporting each other from their chat last week...I loved it. But they are no where near done with the things they need to discuss. I mean I very much doubt Ashton or Laudna understand the breath of what happened back there with Vax and what it means to Orym personally just yet...

Yes, god, there are so many moving parts and concerns that I am constantly re-remembering another heartbreaking detail about how he's doing. And specifically the "feeling the need to isolate/not feeling safe enough to express yourself" hits home so hard. It rings like a kid who hides their totally normal interests from their friends and family, out of fear of being ridiculed or punished for it. It's that distinct paranoia you get from strict parents when they make any sort of acknowledgment about your hobbies or views.

It is devastating that he's resorted to secrecy and private moments in the dead of night. Always looking over his shoulder. Tensing up at the start of every gods-related conversation. Discussion and debate are fine and normal, in fact I think it'd be insane if nobody was talking about or questioning literally everything right now. But the constant reminders he had to give to Bells Hells were weighing on him enough. Now, more than half of the group that should have been a safe-space for him have been replaced with complete strangers. And his two remaining companions are dealing with a lot in their own right. Introspection is important, but he has no way of knowing what "coming to a conclusion" is gonna look like for these people. What if they side with Ludinus? What if they turn violent? What if they keep him from getting back to his family?

All of that is why Ashton reaching out has been SO goddamn important to me. Out of everyone right now, they've been the least oppositional and argumentative towards Orym's takes on the situation. I really can't think of a moment where they made a comment, not even directly at Orym, that had any sort of underlying hostility towards believing in the good of the gods. They've expressed that it's the people who are the problem, while still leaving that door open for the belief that good worshippers exist. I love that Tal is making those perception checks. It's the absolute perfect way of saying "if my character sees this something is gonna get done" without like metagaming or anything. It makes even more sense cuz we've already established that Ashton is actively keeping on eye on him and Laudna. They understand more than anyone that no one is the "stable" one anymore, and all they can do is help each other.

Orym very clearing feels backed into a corner right now and he would have NEVER said "if you see me fall, pick me up" if Ash wasn't purposely trying so hard to make sure he knows that they are a safe-space for him.

[thedeadthree]

for the couple’s & their kids asks, how about 5, 8 and 11 for una and aegon? <3

NICO DEAR ! hi ty ty so much and i hope ur doing well! theyve been on the brain again &lt;3

COUPLES AND THEIR KIDS QUESTIONNAIRE

5. how did they feel when they met their child for the first time?  

una was caught off guard at first? as she was not aware until VERY VERY late that she was with child? and twins for that matter? i do think it is a moment for her where she realizes that in all she has sacrificed and will that it will all be worthwhile for them. and now the stakes are much higher now for her? she'll tear the world down for them! and her dragon the cannibal is right there with her! i think that surprisingly enough to her she falls in love with them at first sight!

8. are there any interests that they share with their kids? if not, how do they nurture their kids’ interests? 

vaelor and helaenya (named after his best friend baelor iovannas son and his first wife and una's closest friend!) both shared una's love for dragonriding! as the twins had twin dragons of their own! the twins naslaarum and vaslaarum ! the dragons, a gift from vilemyr as una's mother being a scion of house maedhros. though vaelor was a more solitary child and preferred to take to the skies on his own, hela and una would fly together! hela also had a fascination with the arcane much like her grandmother (and totally not her mother hehe) and that was something they shared! vaelor, much like the namesake that inspired his, aspired and became a knight and was actually a member of aegon iii's kingsguard for a brief period, and though una was hesitant given his parentage she would offer wisdom on what knighthood meant and required!

11. how do they celebrate their kids birthdays? who goes overboard with the gift giving?

i would say that i think aeggy would be the most likely to gift the most? like anything they had their eyes on and took interest in that he could recall he would send to be found and gift them to the twins! she wanted to offer them a bit of normalcy in the midst of the dance and after the dance so a soiree or two would be something I could see her having for them! <3

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

FOLIE Á DEUX ─── jonathan crane ✧

ೃ⁀➷ “Not all love is gentle. Sometimes it's gritty and dirty and possessive, sometimes it's not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth.” - Azra T.

pairing. professor!jonathan crane x stalker!reader

summary. you’ve been stalking your professor for 8 months, keeping track of his movements with your diary. one day, said professor informs that you left something of yours behind in his office…

warnings. swearing, choking, p in v, dacryphilia, oral sex (f), dubcon (if u squint), stalking, breeding, orgasm delay/denial, unprotected sex, hair pulling, student-teacher relationship, SMUT UNDER THE CUT

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is my first ever smut, so if it sucks i really do apologize. also, im kinda unsure where the plot on this one went, but whatever! lastly, i do try to keep all my fics gender-neutral, but seeing as this is smut, i had to choose, and the reader is afab.

“Miss [Name], please stay behind after class. I need just a moment's worth of your time.” Your professor said absently, not looking at you, when he handed back your essay on the human id.

You hummed, nodding your head carefully. “Yes, Professor Crane.” 

Inwardly, you swooned at his choice of words: “I need just a moment's worth of your time.” He’d highlighted the existence of both you and him in the sentence, as if coexisting together, with one another, was plausible.

Later, when class ended, you’d packed up all your things, and walked into Professor Crane’s office off to the side, where he was tidying up. 

“You asked me to stay behind, sir?” 

“Yes,” Crane acknowledged your presence, looking at you squarely. “You forgot something in my office during our last tutoring session.” 

Your eyes widened slightly, both at the fact you’d left one of your items behind, and that your Professor had seen the item, and knew it belonged to you. He hadn’t mistaken it as his own, or anyone else's - he knew it was yours.

“Oh!” You said, a beat later. “Thank you for telling me. Where is it, exactly?”

“Before we get to that matter - do take a seat - I believe we need to have a, ah, talk.” He gestured to the seat in front of his office desk, the same seat you sat on every Wednesday at 6:30 for the past few months. 

“A talk, sir?” You pried, but sat down anyway, reveling in the one-on-one time you were experiencing with your favorite professor. 

That was the main motivator for getting tutored by the man - you adored going in, having an entire hour of him all to yourself. 

Prior, you pretended not to get some of his lessons, let your grade in his psychology class slip to a pitiful mark so low he couldn’t ignore it. You’d started the semester with a stellar grade, so he took it upon himself to offer tutoring - he knew you could understand his method of teaching, and theorized that you hadn’t been able to pay attention in class because of the sheer size of people attending. 

In actuality, however, you understood everything completely - it was merely your obsessive attraction following him like the sound of thunder trailing behind lightning. 

Crane scrubbed his face when you sat, thinking intently on what he wanted to say. “I need you to understand, Miss [Name], that a student-teacher relationship is completely taboo. Such a thing can never - should never, occur.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and suddenly, you were reminded how you hadn’t seen that book in a while, you hadn’t read it when you woke up, when you went for lunch, you hadn’t even written anything about him for the day—

Your professor slid open one of his desk drawers, and pulled out the familiar pocket notebook you kept with yourself at all times. 

“I’m telling you about rules, Miss [Name], because you forgot this.” He said, voice low. “And, pardon my intrusion, but the stuff you have written here is quite… intriguing.”

Your heart began racing in your chest, a cold sweat trailing down your back. “Professor, I- whatever you read in there—“ You began, but froze when he opened the notebook, thumbing through the pages. 

Crane cleared his throat, looking intently at the words. His expression changed several times as his eyes flitted over your writing, and you felt your body burn with shame. 

“January 26th. Professor's gloves were found in the nook of his podium. I was looking for the green apple he’d forgo from finishing, his teeth tracks fresh on the alabaster flesh, but found his winter wear instead. Gloves were brought home - I imagined he’d come over to mine, undressed his biting winter clothing, and forgot his sweet mittens here.” Your professor read your diary out loud. Crane looked like he enjoyed your shame being laid out bare, but you were too absorbed in a whirlwind of emotion to notice. 

“P—Professor, please, I - I can explain, I didn’t mean anything—“

“April 17th. Professor came down with a flu, like I expected. I saw him walking in last week’s evening downpour and waited for what day this week he’d call in. Later, he bought cough syrup and aspirin at the convenience store. I watched him struggle to care for himself, covered head to toe in blankets, missing meals, barely able to keep upright. I wish professor knew how well I could care for him, how I fulfill his every request and need. I saw how touchy he was, how he fidgeted, that feverish want — I could satiate him like no-one else.” 

His lips enunciated every word, and the longer he went on reading, the dizzier you felt; your professor, your darling, had found out - he had found out - he had found fucking out -

“Be honest with me, Miss [Name]. Do you stalk me?” Your professor said, slipping off his wire-framed glasses. The man leaned in closer now, elbows resting on the wooden desk. 

Your eyes darted away from him, looking anywhere but forwards. You felt like you had been stripped away, so bare your professor could count how many ribs you had, how many minor hairline fractures your tattered bones had collected over the years. You tried to analyze the man’s reaction through your peripheral, but it was to no avail - he was as cold as he had been during class, during your entire time knowing the professor. 

You breathed, in and out, analyzing the situation tenfold, precisely, trying to find a way out of this place alive, dignity intact. Then, you found it. 

This man had ensnared you, entranced you with his delicious charm and carefully spoken words. You repeat inwardly to yourself: Crane knew all the right words, all the right places to touch. If he dared press charges, you would tell the world he hurt you first. 

“Yes, Professor Crane.” You nodded, unabashed after deciding how to deal with everything. He can’t touch me with this. I’ll just go first: please, he took advantage of me! I needed to pass his class… and he offered a solution to me. He’s lying! Lying to you all. He just wants to destroy me… and hide his sin.

“The human body knows when someone’s watching them, but you haven’t noticed, not once in the 8 months I’ve watched you. You didn’t notice, even when I followed you home, even to Arkham. Every obscure outing you’ve had, I’ve been there.”

“I’m quite alarmed by this information, Miss [Name]. Moreso by the absence of your remorse.” Crane said, but mere seconds later a low laugh was drawn out of him, looking more amused than alarmed if anything. 

Crane’s tone was husky, nearing a purr, and he clasped his large, calloused hands together contemplatively. “What were you going to do to me, Miss [Name]? Or were you just going to watch, standby my life?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, unable to respond to his provocations. You didn’t want to alarm him further, tell him you’d been planning to finally have him, once and for all, as soon as you got a hold of his house keys and got the chance to replicate your own pair. You didn’t tell him that you were barely restraining yourself from knocking him out during your tutoring sessions, wanting your darling all for yourself for more than an hour a week. 

“Are you not afraid, Miss [Name]? What I can do to your life with this information? How I can ruin you, paint you mad enough to be admitted to Arkham?” he continued, closer than ever before and whispering in your ear. His plush lips brushed past the shell of your ear, making your heart skip a beat. 

You winced, both from the feeling of him near you and his sweet voice spewing poison in your ear, but quickly composed yourself, for you knew things he didn’t know you knew. 

Then - you weren’t quite sure what possessed you, but - your hand came up to his hair, tugging so he could hear you, “Professor - or, should I say… Scarecrow, what would you do, if I told the police what Gotham University’s psychology professor did in his spare time?” 

“What would you do, if I plastered pictures of the renowned Doctor Jonathan Crane wearing the familiar burlap sack mask all over Gotham - especially in places the Batman frequented?”

“I can destroy you, sir.” Your voice was quiet, but dangerous, a terribly alluring thing, like a melody Crane heard a long time ago and remembered every time he smelt the must of an old piano. “Don’t push me.”

This time, Crane stilled, turning to face you fully. His gaze had darkened, looking at you through his long lashes. “My dear, you should’ve just told me how bad you wanted to find out how this fear-toxin of mine can break you.” He whispered, so quiet you had to strain yourself to hear. 

With your professor's warm breath fanning on the nape of your neck, you couldn’t help how you squirmed, clenched your thighs together - especially when you had been dreaming of something like this for the past eight months. You couldn’t count how many times you found yourself with your hands down your pants at the thought of your darling professor having his way with you… controlling you completely. 

You didn’t answer the man for a moment, gulping down the dryness in your throat. “Would you, sir? Would you let fear dominate me like those tortured souls in the Narrows?”

Crane’s eyes trailed across your face, then he pulled back, leaning in his chair, a grin all teeth and no tongue spreading across his lips. There was something there, you realized, something he noticed in the intone of your voice - had he noticed the neediness, the warble as your thoughts went elsewhere? The arch in your back, your body desperate to be as close to him as possible?

“Can I tell you what I think?” said Crane, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I think you want me to. I think you want me to see you tremble… shake in fear… you want me to hear you beg. I think you want to be utterly consumed by me.” 

The deep timbre of his voice, the suggestion in his words, how he stared you down with each syllable, sent electric shivers down your spine. You took in a sharp breath, leaning your head back to look at the ceiling, compose yourself, when—

Crane’s rough hand gripped at your throat, thumb caressing the little notch at the center, and your heart fluttered, jumping at his touch. 

“Fear is an addicting, beautiful thing, is it not? You’re afraid of me, but you can’t help how fucking needy you are.” Your professor spoke, pressing down further on your neck. He had noticed. 

His touch made your skin feel like it was on fire, the rough pads of his fingertips digging bruises into your delicate skin. It was the most delicious thing you had ever felt, and you leaned into it, despite the connotations of death by asphyxiation looming over your shoulder. 

Your professor manhandled you, dragging your weak body over to his side of the desk, hand still curved neatly around your throat. You were growing dizzy, a fearful, pleasure-filled fog slowly clouding your mind, and you couldn’t speak. All you could do was let out little squeaks of surprise & pleasure, a moan rumbling out of you as he pressed down further. 

Crane was saying something, but you couldn’t tell under the pressure. His facial expression was all you needed, however; his eyes were bloodshot, lustful, so laser-focused that, if looks could kill, you’d have been long gone, while a feral grin replaced his emotionless facade. Crane’s usually well-kept appearance had dissolved, and his hair was askew, tie loose, buttons haphazardly undone. 

Suddenly, the man pressed himself flush against you, pressing his face into your hair, your neck - losing himself in you. His tongue flicked out, dragging a long stripe down the side of your neck, and you jumped, a startled whine tearing out of your choked-up throat. 

His grip on you tightened. “What? I’m just having a taste. Is that so wrong?” At your wide eyes, and silent response, he let out a fitful laugh. “You’re coated in shame, darling. You’re sour.”

You squirmed - not because you didn’t enjoy it - you just couldn’t breathe, but Crane didn’t care. His fingernails were sharp, maybe even drawing some of your blood.

“Plea— sir, I can’t breathe,” you stuttered out raspily. His face remained unchanged while listening to your pathetic pleas, before he leaned in close. 

“Beg for it. Beg like you’re terrified for your life. You might as well be,” he said, and he began pressing his thumb into the center of your throat, choking you fully now. 

You nodded - as much as the allowance between his hand and your head allowed, anyway. “Professor, please,” you said breathily, “please let me go. I’ll do any- anything, just puh— please stop.” 

“Ah, there it is,” Your professor cooed, eyes shutting at the sweet intone of your pleaing, distressed voice. He was losing himself in your words. “Keep going… and don’t forget the crying. It's my favorite part.”

“Let - me go! Please,” you whimpered helplessly, mustering thick, heavy tears to form at the corners of your eyes as you saw black spots dotting your vision. 

A lump formed in your throat, choking your words. “Please… stop! Let me - breathe,” You said, leaning delightedly into his touch. His other hand was now digging painfully into your hip, as if the professor were focussing intensely on holding back. 

“Look at you go,” Crane clicked his tongue, eyes opening and gazing deep into you. He pulled you in closer to him, letting go of your abused throat. 

You finally breathed, taking in such large bouts of air you might’ve choked and keeled over right there. But then, Crane’s hands at your side crawed carefully to your rear, while the other hand came up to the crown of your head to pet you. 

He whispered into the top of your head, “Did you mean it?” 

“Mean what?” You said raspily, your face pressed flat against his bandy chest. 

His hand found the swell of your ass, fingers grabbing hold and squeezing so tight you were sure there’d be a bruise later, “About doing anything. For me.”

You nodded, still not looking at him. This answer didn’t please him, however, and the hand that had been petting you tangled through your hair and roughly pulled you away, to look up at him. “In words.”

“Y— yes. I’ll do anything for you.” You rattled off, prickling pain twisting in your scalp. 

“You’ll be a good girl for me?”

“The best.” 

A grin twisted his pink, plush lips, and he promptly pushed you face down flat against his cold, wooden desk. It was rough, and sudden, pain blooming in your side. But there was a tug in your lower stomach at the way he handled you, all selfish and touchy and focused solely on chasing after his own pleasure. 

Crane’s hands roamed all over your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. His touch was insatiable, rubbing and petting and kneading at every part of your body. 

His hands found your thighs, squeezing at the flesh, before hiking up your skirt and inspecting your panties. “Oh, you’re fucking soaked,” Crane rumbled out, voice like gravel. “You liked it, didn’t you? When I said I’d admit you to Arkham.”

Then, you heard him kneel down, and begin to press sloppy, wet kisses on your legs. “Be honest,” he said between kisses, “you want me to admit you, have you all to myself in isolation.”

You didn’t respond, instead whimpering and bucking forward when you could feel Crane’s sharp teeth brush over your sensitive skin. He noticed the effect he had on you, and you felt him smile against you. 

“Please,” you keened out, not dissimilar to how you begged him just moments ago, “stop teasing, Professor.”

You felt Crane’s hot breath fan over your clothed mound, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. “Stop teasing, how?” he said at last, before suddenly pushing your panties to the side and licking a stripe up your cunt. He lapped at your lips, collecting your wetness on his tongue, but he didn’t go further. 

“Pro - Professor,” you whined, grounding out a low moan. It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. He liked playing with you, making you squirm and shake and beg for more.

“What? This not enough for you?” He pulled away, and you hissed at the cold that hit you. Then, he tugged, hard, pulling both your underwear and your skirt down to your knees. 

“You want me to eat you out till you’re a trembling fucking mess, don’t you?” He buried himself between your legs, “I knew you were a horny little slut.”

Finally, his tongue found you once more, and pushed deep into your folds. Crane’s tongue ran across every rivet your pussy had, before darting out to your clit, suckling at the velvet bundle of nerves. His touch drew out a high-pitched keen, your back arching. 

You couldn’t see him, face still pressed against the wooden desk, but you could hear him, the filthy squelching of your pussy and his tongue making your knees buckle. 

“Fuck, Jonathan,” you choked out, when he went deeper into your quivering hole, your body tingling like nothing you’d ever felt before. At your reaction, his name curling around your pretty little lips, he went faster, wet mouth brushing against you, licking you up and down, animalistic, following his instinct to a tee.

“Please, wait -“ You said, feeling the knot in your insides grow tighter, the heat washing over you like a steaming shower, toes curling in your flats. 

“What?” He growled out beneath you, not letting up his assault on your cunt. 

“I don’t - don’t wanna come on your tongue…” You said, shaking your head weakly against the desk. “Wanna - wanna feel you in me.”

Jonathan snorted, and continued to lap up your insides, “D’you think you have a fucking choice? Huh? I know you’re a whore, you could do this all day. I’ll just make you come again on my cock.”

Before you could protest, or even just whine at his words, you shut your eyes, feeling yourself come undone, your legs barely able to keep you upright. His hands had reached away from your thighs, rough fingers toying with your fleshy button, maximizing the climax washing over you tenfold. 

“Jonathan, Jonathan!” You practically screamed out, heat in your stomach pulsing rapidly. 

“Ugh, fuck,” You heard him say, “you’re creaming all over my fucking face.” 

You were a complete mess by the time he pulled away from you, your high washing away as Crane wiped the come and wetness off his face. 

“You came that hard, just on my tongue?” He mocked, fingers spreading your lips and observing your swollen pussy as you laid flat, weakly gripping the edge of the desk so you’d stay standing. 

“Well,” he said, reaching down to his pants and undoing his belt buckle and fly, “M’not done with this sweet little cunt just yet.”

Your eyes widened, “I’m - I’m still sensitive, wait-“

Jonathan didn’t listen, however, letting his pants and boxers pool at his feet, stroking himself in the artificial light of his office, which smelt like sweat and sex. 

He spat on his hand, first coating his cock in it, then your parted lips (which you theorized was just because he wanted to feel you up again), before lining up his thick head at your entrance. “God,” he groaned, “you’re so fucking wet.”

You keened at the intrusion you felt between your legs, “Jonathan, please, jus’ - give me a sec to rest —“ You were interrupted however, by the shock of how big he felt. 

You hadn’t gotten a look at him, but as he let himself slowly enter you, you could tell it was bigger than anything you’d ever taken before. “You’re - you’re too big!” you squeaked out, “You won’t fit.”

He laughed, hands resting on your hips as he held you upright. “I’ll make it fit,” he said, before roughly pounding the rest of himself into you, stretching out your inexperienced cunt. 

You choked, his fat cock pushing you wider than you’d ever been before, the pain biting at you, a burning feeling spreading within your lower body. “Jon- Jonathan,” was all you could say, as he slowly pulled out, pure relief written on your face, until he sank right back into you, somehow deeper than before. 

Tears welled in your eyes, as he gripped harshly on the flesh of your hips, making you pound back and forth on him. His cock was hard, and thick, and he was forcing the thing deep within you at an excruciatingly quick pace. Your sensitivity was the cherry on top to this whole situation - you were trembling, body weak, shallow breaths and teary moans tearing out of you at the overstimulation.

Soon, however, the pain slowly dissolved into a filthy, exquisite pleasure that echoed throughout your entire body. The rhythm your professor had gotten to was downright perfect, filling you completely and making you clench in all the right places. Crane made your brain go foggy, focussing solely on the sound of your skin slapping against each other in the quiet, after-hours office, his taller frame encapsulating you completely.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he cooed, hands moving to splay across your ass and spread you open further. “How many cocks have taken this sweet pussy, huh?”

You gulped. “Just,” you started, but then your eyes rolled to the back of your head, stopping you mid-sentence as his length brushed up to your most sensitive spot.

“How,” he gripped you tighter, “many,” slipped out, “cocks!”  then thrust into you roughly, rougher than before and making the desk screech forward a few inches.

“Just one!” You said at last, words choked up as his long cock pierced you. 

“Just one, huh?” He said and began pounding in and out of you faster, rougher, needier, “I bet you didn’t even fucking come, you’re so tight. This pretty pussy of yours is practically virgin.”

“Uh-huh,” you said incoherently, thoughts blending together. “Jus’ a - a fucking virgin for you,” you babbled out, losing yourself in the fast-paced pleasure he was serving on a silver platter. 

“That you are,” Jonathan growled, “you’re just my horny virgin. Mine.” Every thrust he plunged into you brushed up against that plush spot deep within you, making you drool, body going slack. 

“Oh, jesus, you’re so fucked out,” he murmured, looking down at your limp, trembling form. “Drunk on my thick fucking cock.”

The ecstasy was becoming too much for you now, controlling you completely, like if he stopped fucking you right now you’d be so fucking needy, going slowly insane until he touched you again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to fuck anyone else and feel the same; he made you feel fucking feral, instinctual, your id going into drive and controlling you instead of logic. Your darling was the only one you wanted to offer yourself up completely to. He could do anything he fucking wanted to you, and you’d take it in stride. 

“Jonathan,” you keened, feeling your walls clench around him tighter, “m’close.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, voice deep and dangerous, “keep that orgasm in, whore, till I tell you to.”

Your cheeks burned, distraught at the denial of your release, especially when his cock slipped out of you as he flipped you over. Quickly, however, he rammed his cock back into you. You were facing each other now, and you could see how hot and bothered he looked, despite how confident and careless his words had been as he fucked you.

His lips were bitten between his teeth, hair sticking to the sweat on his face, cheeks flushed. He was focussed entirely on getting back that rhythm, and you let him, watching how his gorgeous features contorted as your hot cunt sucked him in. 

Your arms reached around his neck, and he promptly lifted your legs up to hook around his back, making him fill you even further. 

“Fuck me!” You squealed, his shaft reaching places you didn’t know could be reached. It was getting harder to stop your impending orgasm, and your felt fucking sick at how sweetly he was stretching you, how you knew you couldn’t let go no matter what despite the delicious pleasure. 

“Already am, baby,” he grumbled, rutting in and out of you at a dizzying pace. You felt his pace stutter, slightly, and you heard his small, revealing whines of pleasure as his head was nestled in the nook of your neck, and you knew he was close. 

The thought of him coming in you made you tighten and tense, and he felt it, your back lifting off the desk in an arch. 

“Fuck, how’d you get even tighter?” he said shakily, before sliding out of you so far he almost pulled out completely, then let his cock thrust into you so hard you saw stars dancing across your vision.

You merely mewled back at him in response. 

“Come,” he said breathily, “come all over my thick— ugh, fuuuck, just like that, yes,” his sentence was cut off as you let go, letting the waves of pleasure surge through your body like electricity. 

Your body shook, your knees trembled, and an animalistic whine slipped out of your bruise throat as he thrust into you jerkily. Just as quickly as you camez, he did too, and you felt Jonathan’s load shoot straight up into your worn-out cunt, not impeded by a condom of any sorts. Crane’s head cocked back as he did so, jaw clenching as he released his sweet and sticky liquid deep within you, warm and coating your walls completely.

For a moment, he laid atop of you, and you both kept silent, the office filled with nothing but your breathing and the sweet smell of come. Then, he pulled away, both of you wincing as his cock left you, his come dripping out of your weeping hole onto his office floors. 

He pulled his underwear and pants back on, but revelled in your own crumpled form on his desk, your shirt hiked up, your skirt and panties hanging off your ankles, barely there. It was a shame he couldn’t have explored further up your body, groped those tits he loved seeing bounce during tutoring, but his need to fill your pussy up took precedent.

Jonathan swiped a finger into your cunt, collecting some of your combined liquid, and you flinched at the feeling. Then, he licked at his dirty finger. “Oh, baby,” he heaved, “we taste delectable mixed together.” 

You raised a brow, then weakly lifted yourself off the desk, pulling up your panties and skirt (not without adoring the feeling of Jonathan’s fresh, wet come smearing all over your panties and sensitive cunt) before reaching for his hand. He leaned in towards you, and you lapped up the juice on his finger, grinning up at him.

Jonathan looked completely lost in your performance, brows knitted. “Jesus fucking christ,” he whispered under his breath, “where has a perfect little fucktoy like you been hiding from me?”

“Oh,” you said, nonchalant, “just stalking you.” 

[xylax]

Flooding in Poland

I am posting links that will keep you updated if there will be delays due to very possible evacuation of me, my bf and my cats due to catastrophic flooding in Poland. Things change almost every hour, and it's not possible to predict anything. They just announced an area 2.6km away will probably get evacuated, and I have to be prepared at any moment. It might as well not happen, which I really hope for. No news is good news. Dams and levees keep breaking as the wave goes down from Czech Mountains, drowning entire towns. In many areas it's worse than 1997. The rain does not end. Multiple tornadoes hit villages up north, as well.

I apologize in advance for any delays. I'm trying to prepare Lunar Event now and leave instructions to the admin team.

I'm booking a hotel and we'll travel there in a car if that happens, I will be okay. I'm very sorry about the loss of thousands of people's homes in Poland, Czech Rep, Austria, Romania, Slovakia and possibly Hungary.

v Updates in Polish

https://x.com/remizacompl - Firefighters giving live updates

Also news v

If you want to have an understanding on how tragic it was back in 1997, there's a short tv-series on Netflix called High Water, as well as documentaries on Youtube.

I hope they really managed go fix the infrastructure and retention lakes in last 30 years, otherwise it will be really bad.

[gaylotusthatexists]

@pixelpigares, here is your gift for the @mcytblrholidayexchange!!! i was ur gifter, apologies for the delay here lmao i may have gone a little overboard, but i really hope you enjoy this :D

lil bdubs-centric fantasy au for you, taking heavy inspiration from the king ren arc as you mentioned you enjoyed that ^^ you also mentioned that u enjoy dark souls, which i am. unfortunately not Super familiar with but i’ve done my best to try a lil dark fantasy, can at the very least promise fantasy lmao (sword fights and monsters <3 that i can do for sure). thrown scar in there for fun as well as u had the idea of a bdubs/ren/scar ship - this one can be read as platonic or romantic tbh, had planned on throwing some more romance in there but it didn’t quite end up fitting, they do have a v fun dynamic tho u are so big brained for that.

but ye :D happy holidays, really hope you enjoy this <3

[xelafina]

Looks like an introduction is in order!! Hi I’m Xela or Xelafina!! Moth-Fairy-DJ-Vtuber/VArtist! v(⌒o⌒)v♪ Apologies for the delay, the signal from the forest was kinda spotty.. good thing the wifi here runs with magic *+ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ~ ✧˖

Important Tags: 🌸 #Xelatelier - Art Tag / Fanart! 🌷 #XelaTV - Livestream ON 🎀 #Xelafiles - Memes & Clips! 🌼 #Xelatunes - My Music!

Blog Tags: 🌺 #Xelalogs - Xela Ramblings or blog entries! 🌻 #Ask-Xela - Answered asks 💐 #Freebies - Free assets for u

[sungbeam]

𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐗! — five

v. only for the clip, park

in which you want your clip back and jisung gets low-key rejected

park jisung x fem!reader ; soc. media, sibling bickering, clownery, crack/humor

a/n: oh jisung 🤦🏻‍♀️ anyways u whAt now yn?? 😃 (much apologies for the delayed update skcnekfn i suddenly wanted to write seven drabbles for seven days so this was put on back burner)

« prev · m.list · next »

permanent taglist: @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @johlee @justanotherkpopstanlol @frickyratz @liamsholygrail @w3bqrl @got-sum-badhabits @ana-is-losing-her-mind @smolpeyy @hibernatinghamster @babyksworld @otchae @bigballsz @luv4vernon @shakalakaboomboo @thesunsfullmoon @polarisjisung @dior-15 @neowritingsnet

taglist: @kae-t-eee @kookiedesi @yeppeudau @spiderrenjunfics @dreamenvi @neo-teenkidz @l33j3n8

[bts-polls]

LAST CALL: Time for a lounge day, do you trust Tae with the remote?

Apologies for the delay on this ranking poll. Got sick over the holidays, the flu going around this year is nasty. I hope you all have had a healthy and peaceful start to the year!

[daemour]

Hello again, your CODN Secret Santa here! ❄️❄️❄️

I definitely love writing non idol AUs! Neighbors AU is something I love! Are you preferential to friends to lovers or more so strangers to lovers for the trope? Any information to stir up the THOUGHTS are so helpful! (I know you didn't request smut, so don't worry! It'll be fluff!)

I am happy to tailor this completely for you, so feel free to give me anything you'd like or even things you dislike! I am so open to your ideas and coming up with something super special just for you!

Looking forward to hearing back!

(Also I apologize for the delay, Tumblr has been wonky for me, bad TUMBLR!)

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Hmmmm i think for neightbours I'm a huge sucker for s2l! just something about mere coincidence turning into something more is so AJHGFKSJDHFGKKSFDHS

ahem

i'm also a big fan of slice-of-life vibes!! i'm not super picky with fics ngl LOL but im allergic to strawberries so if u were somehow planning a strawberry eating scene in your fic alas that doesn't work for me >v<

and no worries!! dumblr really trying its best to screw us over lol

[rbeljedi]

MEME // @kyrbes​ asked:  ❝ i want people to look and see me. ❞

It’s a feeling he can understand all too well, even if he doesn’t voice it often. 

“What do you think people see when they look at you?” 

[darthmaulification]

hey!! just saw you are taking requests YAY🤍 i love how you write in general but specifically for maul so this will be about him🥴 i was thinking about maul getting insecure and jealous because of an interaction that the reader(f or gn i don’t mind) had with sb(i’ll let that to u heheh) so starting off with an angry maul, pretty angsty, and then all ✨smutty✨ naturally lmao, finishing off with reassurance and fluff bc i’m a sensitive bitch😗✌🏻. also, i imagine this with maul and reader not being in an established relationship but crushing on/having feelings for each other but if you choose to change that that’s fine hahah and yeah, that’s it!! hope you like the idea and if you’re not convinced feel free to ignore this, i’d love anything you write anyways😬🤍

A/N: lol apologies for the delay lolololol 🤪 life is... sehr interessant atm 💀

BUT! i finally finished this!! and am proud that i did!!! 😊💕

i hope this makes up for the wait, anon, i really do. thank you for your patience! 🥺🤲💞

(btdubs, i know the character i chose to be reader’s past flame kinda sorta really doesn’t work AT ALL in the context of canon, so let’s all agree to not read far into that lmao.)

hope you enjoy! kiitos! 💗

content: a mixed bag, afab!reader (no pronouns or gendered terms used tho), jealous maul (because when is he not smh 🙄), pining, pre/new relationship, arguments and fighting, two idiots not knowing how to talk abt theys feels, making up, heart to heart chats y’know, and then fucking, making out, very very slight public embarrassment (like hardly any), marking/biting, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex (unprotected), cum

word count: 9,570

The Sundari Palace has never been this lively, and that you can say with certainty.

Packed like sardines in a tin, people of all species mingle in the throne room, all of them high ranking officials, diplomats, and a select few... underground higher-ups you recognize from Crimson Dawn meetings. It’s beyond rare that you’ve had such an opportunity to socialize, and it’s even rarer that today isn’t for any of Maul’s Mandalore related business nor his side hustle. In fact, today’s technically all about you.

The birthday celebrations haven’t commenced quite yet, but the amount of well-wishes and gifts you’ve received makes you wonder just how big a party was planned for you. The thought is somewhat peculiar, considering you’re only one of Maul’s advisors (not that he even utilizes your advice all that often).

Speaking of the crimson-skinned Zabrak, your eyes scan the noisy, crowded room until you catch sight of him at the opposite side. Maul is conversing with two towering Trandoshans, probably business partners of the illicit sort, his hands clasped behind his back. Though he usually opts to go completely shirtless (for whatever reason) tonight he wears inky black robes and a floor length, maroon velvet cloak.

The colors suit, shades of red and black that make him appear equal parts dangerous and charming. A dark prince, he looks like desire itself.

Deep inside you, something twinges, and you want to run over to him and tell Maul how gorgeous he is. You want him to know how badly you’ve ached for him, and how appreciative you are for him, and everything else good and holy in the galaxy... but you can’t.

He’s your employer— your Lord. It would be inappropriate at the least and insubordination at its worst for you to approach the Mand’alor in such a way.

Maul makes it hard though, seeing that he treats you as well as he does his brother, that you needn't ask for a thing. He gave you a room in the Palace, an awfully exorbitant pay for your rather miniscule data job, and has left you with more fleeting touches than you can count.

A brush of his hand on your back, words whispered close to your ear during Crimson Dawn debriefs, smoldering glances, his fingers tucking your hair behind your ear...

It's hard not to feel something for Maul when all he's ever done is a gift.

You wonder what you mean to him, because surely it's something more- you want it to be something more. But doubt always rears its head every time you catch a nameless fling stagger from his personal quarters late at night, looking disheveled, all while Maul looks on, immensely satisfied.

The twinge grows stronger, and you look away to force it back down into the deepest part of your heart. As you shuffle to the table where platters of food promise you some emotional relief, you work hard at squashing your feelings. It doesn’t work, not even when a passing waiter droid offers you a glass of champagne which you down in one gulp.

“Maker.” You grumble to yourself, picking up a strange-looking pink cube off a platter and bringing it to your lips. Before taking a bite, the distinct impression that you’re being watched starts to creep up on you, making it feel like you’re tingly all over. You lower the cube, and turn.

“By the Stars!” A voice from afar exclaims, a voice that makes your mind buzz with recognition. Your head turns in the direction from which it came, and when you see the tall figure approaching you, your jaw drops in shock. A very familiar Nautolan, one with the brightest, most wonderful smile plastered on his bright, wonderful face.

“Kit!” You cry, a grin blooming across your face as you open your arms (accidentally dropping the sweet) and run straight into his. He laughs— that same, beautiful laugh exactly how you remember!— and pulls you close. As you dig your face into his chest, you inhale deeply and almost weep, because he even smells the same— a curious mix of sea salt, pine, and something sharp, like mint. It’s all uniquely him.

“Starfish.” Kit sighs the pet name into your hair, and it almost has you shivering at the memories attached. You haven’t been called that name in years, not since Kit... 

“I thought you perished on Coruscant.” You murmur into the soft satin shirt he’s wearing, hugging him tighter to stave off the ache of the thought. Kit stiffens slightly, pulling back so that you’re able to look up at him, and the grin on his face slips into a small, melancholic frown. A distant look overtakes his eyes, a stillness in their inky depths that is so unnatural to him.

“Yes, I... It was...” He goes quiet then shakes his head, long tendrils trembling as he forces himself back to the sunny disposition you remember. The switch ignites deep empathy and curiosity within you, but the pain in his eyes stops you from pressing any further. “A conversation for another time”, is the sentiment left unsaid.

“Well... it is so so wonderful to see you again, Kit.” You say softly, cupping his cheek with your hand, his chartreuse skin cool and semi-damp beneath your palm. It reminds you of a time before, distant memories that your mind had hidden under lock and key. In all honesty, after Coruscant, after... everything that happened, you had honestly tried your best to forget your past lover.

It wasn’t that you wanted to, but when the mind seeks self-preservation, and the soul seeks solace, yours acted no different.

“It’s wonderful to see you too.” Kit replies, his voice quiet and tentative, his pitch black eyes downcast, only briefly. When he looks up again, the beaming sunshine smile is back full force, and the haunted expression on his face has been drowned out by its light. 

“How have you been? I had no idea that you’d gone to Mandalore— I always thought your dream destination was Canto Bight?” Kit teases, dodging your elbow when you try to land it into his side. You knew he knew your absolute displeasure at that deplorable city, especially with it’s treatment of children. 

“Dirty liar! No, it is not!” You laugh, attempting to slap him lightly on the shoulder, but once again Kit dodges your half-hearted assault, chuckling himself. This time though, he grabs your hand, encasing your fingers with his. The tender touch honestly has the apples of your cheeks heating up, and you stare at his long, green fingers. They look the same, claws and all, but this time you do spot newer scars on his knuckles.

You want to kiss them better, as you had always done before, but this isn’t the past anymore.

“Kit...” You try not to sound overly exasperated, or disappointed, but the second his name passes your lips like that, Kit releases your hand, falling silent. His drop to his sides, then he shifts and clasps them behind his back. The mood immediately changes, the joviality dissipating to a dispirited awkwardness.

“I... apologize. We, um, we don’t—” Kit shakes his head in embarrassment, tendrils swaying, cheeks darkening slightly. Wanting to salvage the moment, you force a wide smile on your face and wave a hand nonchalantly. It’s hard, harder than you’d ever anticipated.

“Kit, believe me, it’s fine.” You insist, doing your best to keep your tone cheery, “What brings you to Mandalore?”

The pivot in subject is hardly subtle, but if Kit notices he doesn’t say, probably for his sake and yours. Though when the question processes, you’re intrigued to see Kit go a bit sheepish.

“Uhh... For business?” He glances everywhere but you, the terrible actor he is, and you raise an eyebrow. Crossing your arms over your chest, you take a step and Kit takes one back. It must look positively amusing, a human such as yourself making a towering Nautolan look small.

“Kit Fisto.” You warn, though there’s really no bite to it, but you are curious. Kit meets your gaze, all owlish and meek, and does that thing where his lip quivers when he wants to say something so badly, but is forcing himself not to. You’ve got him locked in the stare, and you know he wouldn’t be able to look away even if he tried. His mouth opens to speak.

“I’m—”

“Who is this?” Both you and Kit jump, heads simultaneously whipping to the side to see Maul standing at your sides. A glower is on his face, more so directed at Kit, and his hands are hidden behind him, underneath his ornate cloak. Jumping into action, and gathering yourself all the same, you clear your throat and gesture to Kit.

“O-Oh! My Lord, this is—” You get interrupted when Kit takes a step, somewhat jutting out in front of you. 

“Kit Fisto, Lord Maul.” He says smoothly, putting on the voice he once used for Senators on Coruscant, all chivalry and semi-forced politeness. Interestingly enough, his tone also sounds a bit challenging, and you can’t imagine why. Your brow furrows, especially upon watching Maul’s eyes ignite at the provocation, his sneer deepening.

“Yes... Kit Fisto... I do think I know that name.” Maul hums, Kit’s name rolling off his tongue as slickly as honey but as bitter as poison. The antagonism isn’t something you miss, nor does Kit, given how the tall Nautolan seems to puff up, shoulders setting. He and Maul glare at one another, fiery gold clashing with inky black. Maul’s hands drop to his sides, and the tension swells.

You catch sight of silver glinting at his hip.

“Really? Have you both met before?” You ask before someone decides to take the next step, haphazardly placing yourself semi-between Maul and Kit. It’s then you notice Kit also has a hilt on his belt, his hand awfully close to it. The tension breaks somewhat, but it still simmers in the air. Kit turns his attention to you and goes to say something, but Maul beats him to it.

“A mutual friend, so to speak.” The Zabrak replies evenly, straightening his posture and lifting his chin, the epitome of dignified class. You nod, not really buying it, but the alternative of questioning might bring more problems than it’d solve. How Maul and Kit once knew each other gives you the impression that it wasn’t in good terms, based on the hostility between them. A mystery to solve for another time, you decide.

“Well!” Kit booms suddenly, clapping his hands together once, and causing you to jump. His sunny grin returns, as does the otherwise lighthearted and jovial Kit you’re used to, although it seems a tad strained. The green Nautolan turns to you, and his smile drops a bit as he takes your hands in his.

Maul glares daggers.

“I must be going, unfortunately.” Kit says quietly, and a twinge of sadness pricks at your heart, your lips dropping into a frown. You want to protest— He’s only just reappeared after all— but whatever matters that seemed to have brought your beloved Kit back to you will pull him away all the same. 

“Must you?” You whisper, eyes glossy, and you search Kit’s face for any answer except the one you’re dreading to hear. He looks pained, and won’t meet your eye, his gaze cast down at his hands holding yours. He rubs small circles on your knuckles, only twice, then stops.

“I...” Kit trails off, glancing at you then to Maul, who sneers, then back to you, “Yes. I can’t stay in many places for long.”

You bite your lip, and the plead to make him stay, and nod nonetheless. Kit finally meets your eyes, and his eyes— above all else, in spite of everything— are kind.

“We’ll meet again, starfish, I’m sure of it.” And with that Kit brings your knuckles to his lips, where he places a soft kiss upon them, his touch cool like sea breeze. You smile, and Kit does too, like he did all those years ago when you had first parted ways— The small, sad one that holds so much hurt that Kit doesn’t want you to see, but what his innate optimism can’t hide.

History is doomed to repeat itself, you suppose as you watch your fingers slip from Kit’s hand, the loss all too familiar.

“Mand’alor.” Kit dips his head to Maul, and the two imperceptibly size one another up again as the Nautolan passes him. It takes a lot to pull your eyes away from Kit’s retreating form, but you do, because you have to, and drag your attention back to Maul.

“I see you and him are far more acquainted than I initially realized.” Maul snaps, turning his withering glare to you, catching you completely off guard. He pivots harshly on his heel, practically stomping his way towards a discreet balcony and shoulder-checking a guest on the way. You frown, the anger that rises in you driving you to follow.

Maul weaves through the swathes of people, and you do too, almost losing him a couple times with all the sharp turns he takes. Finally, after you’ve burst out from the middle of a group of Twi’lek dancers, you catch sight of Maul at the edge of the balcony, alone.

He’s shrouded with the night’s shadows, his dark robes and sweeping cloak making him appear phantomic. His back is to you, one of his hands on the balcony’s silver railing, the other behind his back in a fist. Even from a distance you can tell his shoulders are tense, hackles raised, and the anger rolls off of him in waves. Like a cobra coiled to strike— volatile.

“Maul—” You start as you approach, but the Zabrak slams his crimson and black hand on the railing, cutting you off with a hefty thunk. The loud noise makes you jump, and pause in your tracks, though only briefly. Stomping up to him and just as you get close, Maul whirls around, his cloak billowing in the sudden breeze. The blistering flames of his eyes catch your attention first, their raging fury, then does the pain laced in them.

“What is with you?” You confront, arms flying up in exasperation, then falling down to your sides in defeat. Gaze searching Maul’s face for any type of answer, you watch his lips part then close to a tight line. He frowns and his brow furrows, curling in his midnight tattoos tight. 

“Nothing of your concern!” Maul snaps in reply, and he turns his head from you and you almost have it in you to laugh when you see his lower lip jutting out like a child’s. He’s pouting, your esteemed leader and Lord is pouting.

“Obviously, it is of my concern considering this how you act with me.” You snort, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. Honestly, the Zabrak could be the most stubborn person you know— as absolutely, utterly stubborn as a sleeping bantha. 

This time, it’s his turn to scoff, and Maul shakes of his head as he turns away from you. He starts to head in some direction away from you, but you reach out and grab his bicep before he can storm off.

“Maul—!” He shakes off your grip, but you hastily grab at him again. Maul whips his head around, eyes blazing as he snarls, “What?”

For a second you recoil, eyes blowing wide, but you hastily regroup yourself. Hand still on his arm, you take a step towards him and gently rest your other hand on his closest to you. Your fingers drape over the fist his hand is clenched into, the black leather taut under your touch. Nearly imperceptibly, his hand is quivering— from rage or sorrow, you aren’t exactly sure.

“Please. What’s wrong?” You ask softly, taking a risk and stepping closer, trying to smother the apprehension building inside you at getting so... close to Maul. You definitely are invading his personal space, but he doesn’t move, nor does he say anything up it. In fact, you’re so close to him you can smell the cologne he uses— a heady scent that reminds you of the heat of flames, spice, and the tang of turmeric.

A long stretch of near-silence ensues, the background noise of the party only a handful yards away making the contemplative look on Maul’s face all the more potent. He sighs, low and almost silent through his nose, and his other hand rises to run down his face. When it passes, the look in his eyes has hardened, and the elegant stoicism has returned full force.

“Nothing.” He replies, his tone clipped and overly neutral in the way that he once told you, on an equally warm, equally starry night as this one, that he had been forcibly trained to use for when he obeyed the commands of his former Master. It reminds you of that night, when you both sat on a bench, and exchanged secrets and trust.

It was also the night Maul told you, “You have a kind heart”. He hasn’t told you that since.

“... Is it Kit Fisto?” You ask the obvious, knowing that the answer is Yes, but at the same time you don’t want to assume while simultaneously wanting Maul to say it himself. He dips his head and his eyelids fall heavy over his eyes, and it’s then you notice how they glow in the shadows.

Maul and you... your relationship is strange, to say the least. It’s no secret he favors you compared to many others— Gar, Almec, no other holds your status— and it’s no secret that both of you have noticed. You’ve tried to decode what it all means, every gentle touch and kind word that Maul has delivered to you, but there’s always something missing, something left unsaid or undone that unravels it all.

It’s a dance, a strange, confusing dance.

“It is.” And the confession passes his lips in a whisper, and you nod, pursing your lips. Inhaling shakily, and wanting to salvage whatever you may have had with Maul, you begin to explain,

“Kit and I were once a... thing, but that time has passed.” You start, and all the memories of Kit and yours stupid, reckless, young, amazing love make you equal parts happy and sad, “But we aren’t anymore. We agreed a long time ago that our futures didn’t align.”

Even after so many years, the words still choke you despite the break-up being mutual and amicable. Yes, you loved Kit once, and he loved you, but love also has the tendency to be fleeting, and while it was strong between you and Kit for a little while, it left when it was meant to... when it was safe to. Despite yourself and your better judgment, tears sting the backs of your eyeballs, and you blink rapidly to hold them at bay.

“But I still sense the ache in your heart. Why?” Maul asks, his golden stare meets yours, pointed and accusing. You can’t help but frown, and the sorrowful anger that starts to simmer in your chest makes your tears evaporate. Though it doesn’t even get close to boiling over, and instead hums beside your heart.

“It’s hard to admit when love dies, my Lord.” You reply, and you hope you didn’t spit it out as bitterly as you thought you may have, but the tone of your voice seems to be less than a concern for Maul. Surprisingly, he doesn’t seem offended, nor does he seem angered, and instead the crimson Lord has the maturity to dip his head respectfully.

“I... understand. I should not have behaved myself as I did previously.” He finally admits after a long stretch of silence, glancing to the party he stormed out of and then to the dent his fist left on the durasteel railing. The admittance does actually soothe you somewhat, though your heart still bristles at your past relationship being scrutinized and judged.

"No, you shouldn't have. I should never feel the need to defend who I’ve loved, and why I loved them." You reply, arms crossed tight over your chest defensively. Maul frowns, 

"I know, I was-" Maul pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs harshly, "I was just jealous."

He admits it through grit teeth, looking and sounding as though the confession brought him physical pain.

"Why?" You breathe, thinking of all those men, women, and everyone else in between that have, presumably, found themselves in Maul's bed before you. And now you feel jealous yourself, catching him with some arm candy time and time again has worn you down. Anger that had been simmering inside you begins to boil, making your face feel hot.

But guilt does too, because hadn’t you just had to justify your love life to him? Maul shouldn’t have to do the same with you. It’s a nasty mix of too many human emotions that broil inside you and eat at your heart. It feels vindictive.

"You are... important to me." Maul replies, and this time your anger doesn't evaporate the tears behind your eyes, because this time they fall past your lashes before you can stop them. Hastily wiping them away as they fall, you glare at Maul.

"In what way? In a business way? In a friend way? How, Maul?" With each frantic question your voice rises in octave, and the tears keep falling. It’s at this moment, tears streaking down your cheeks, that you realize you’ve never cried in front of Maul like this— let alone anyone. Shame forces you to turn around, fixing your blurry stare on the distant horizon.

Behind you, Maul says your name and it carries in the wind. In your mind, you watch it manifest on the cool night breeze and be carried far away from the Sundari Palace, floating by each skyscraper in its path before being plunged to the ground. After a few long seconds, Maul says your name again and this time something in his voice changes and this time you catch your name in your palms.

“I don’t know who I am to you, Maul.” You say softly, lifting your fingers to your cheeks and wiping away tears and streaks of mascara, “And it hurts because I want to be your—”

A very specific word rests on your tongue, but it’s a word that feels too powerful to say, too much. You swallow it, and instead say, “Because I want to be someone to you.”

“I...” Maul trails off, the begins again, “I am sorry. Truly.”

Footfalls approach you, but you don’t turn around— not even when the heat of Maul’s presence is directly behind you. He sighs, low through his nose, and whispers your name.

“My life holds nothing but danger.” Maul states, and you agree, but don’t when he adds, “If you were in it... There is too much risk. For you.”

“Aren’t I already in it?” You ask in reply, and you know he knows that whatever sense of preservation he has for you has already been compromised by the proximity you have to him. For nearly three years you’ve stood by his side, the excuse of potential enemies getting to him through you is null. Maul sighs again, and this time you can practically see him pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, but...” Maul trails off as you finally turn to face him, and you see his eyes dart to your dewy eyes and the tear streaks on your cheeks. Regret shadows his expression, and a part of you aches and wants to cup his cheek and caress that emotion away. The other part keeps your hands pressed to your sides, unmoving.

“But it would be unsafe for you if I held you any closer.” Maul says, a bitterly wistful tone in his voice, as if he’s cast out an unattainable wish on dandelion seeds thrown to the wind. Your feet draw you closer to him, only a few steps, but it feels like wading through clouds of smoke.

“What if I don’t care?” Your whisper seems to pull Maul to you, as if the question were a fishing line with a hook, reeling him in step by step until he stands before you. He looks down at you, cast in shadow but his face is lit by the lights from inside— A spotlight for two handsome honey eyes and thin lips pulled into a frown.

You can’t pry your eyes away from those lips— their crimson and black plush flesh beckon like red wine and blackberries. They grow nearer when you lean in, and Maul doesn’t pull away— No, he dips his chin, gets closer.

“You should.” Maul’s lips are perilously close to yours, and you so desperately want close that little distance. He breathes, and his exhale is warm on your face. You can’t look away from his gorgeous eyes, and he can’t do the same with you. It’s then you notice he has speckles of hazel in his irises, and that his pupils are ringed in red. Wildfire eyes.

“Mm... I can afford to live on the edge if it’s with you.” Barely following your murmur, Maul smashes his lips to yours, molding his working red and black mouth to your pliant one. He slips his tongue in the second you drop your jaw, and when you gasp, he swallows it. Eyelids fluttering, you brace a hand on his chest, grounding yourself, as Maul slithers a muscled arm around your waist and pulls you in.

Flush against his hot body, his lips and tongue furiously overtaking yours, Maul tastes like the roaring heat of flames and black cherries. The arm he has locked around you squeezes tighter, pulls you in deeper, and you wish that you could simply fall into him. Your knees shake, so Maul plants his feet beside yours and holds you up with all of his body. The low of your back presses against the railing behind you.

“My darling.” Maul murmurs above your lips when the kiss breaks naturally, leaving you both panting for air that you share. The air feels as though it tingles around you, a type of serendipity that warms you to the bone and leaves you feeling as though you’re floating. Maul’s glazed honey irises sparkle with tease that blooms on the lopsided grin that he cracks.

“You taste like starlight and all that is good.” He says, his hand coming to cup your jaw, fingertips brushing your hairline. A smile splits across your face, and you tilt your head into his touch, playfully kissing his thumb that rests near the corner of your lips. Maul watches, hawk-eyed, as you do.

“You taste like warmth and desire.” You purr in reply, purposefully not acknowledging how Maul’s one hand has splayed itself over your hip, how he has shifted closer, his core to yours. His grin turns more boyish, and he tilts his head appraisingly.

“Is that so?” He begins, dipping his face to your neck and placing kisses along your skin, “Would you like to know just how much desire I have for you?”

A shiver goes down your spine at both his words and how his lips stop just beneath your earlobe, where his tongue licks your skin. Trembling, you slide both of your arms around his shoulders, holding him close. Maul kisses down to your collar and then bites the soft part. You let out a squeal that is much more high pitched than you anticipated, and much louder, so Maul hastily presses his mouth to yours.

His low chuckles reverberate in your mouth, stifling the gasping moans you were about to release. Your lips move in tandem, jaws working and teeth nearly gnashing together with the force of the kiss. Maul growls when your fingers curl, pulling at his cloak and robes. When you part, you can barely keep your eyes focused from all the dewy, lusty daze that’s taken you over.

“I’d want you to show me.” You reply, voice husky and teasing, and you grin into the heated kiss that Maul pulls you into. It’s as furious as the one before— desperate, needy— all slick-tongue and swapping spit. You swallow the low growls that Maul let's out, and in turn he devours you— your scent, your kiss swollen lips, each gasp that sounds almost like his name.

The kiss parts ways again, Maul and you catching your breaths, and the second Maul does he licks his lips and smirks.

"Shall we find someplace less open, or would you prefer I ravish you here?" The crimson Zabrak angles his crown of horns to the noisy party just inside, where the light that's cast from the open doors narrowly reaches you and Maul in the shadows. As much as the risk is exciting, your mind is more focused on Maul's bed, where you'd let him do anything and everything to you.

"Your room, please." You say breathily, heart pounding in your chest, accepting with a soft smile the tender kiss Maul sets on your cheek in reply. He straightens up and pulls away from you, setting his shoulders to fix his rustled cloak. You do the same, hastily wiping at your smudged makeup and tidying your skirts.

"Come, my love, let us have a very long night." Maul offers you his hand, and the second your fingers are entwined with his, he sets off. You laugh, needing to smother it once you pass the threshold back into the palace, and do your best to hide your excitement behind a neutral expression. It's more to prevent the gossips, but one glance Maul and yours way would tip off anyone. Especially since Maul keeps sending smoldering looks over his shoulder, squeezing your hand when he does.

It’ll have to be a problem for tomorrow— a fairly impactful problem— but for tomorrow nonetheless. You’re too caught up in the moment and Maul to care.

Your Zabrak Lord guides you through swathes of people, and once he gets to the hallway exit at the other end of the room, Maul offers Savage a nod. The towering yellow Zabrak, who had been standing near the doorway, lifts a brow, then offers a small smirk back. Honestly, you hadn't even known that Maul's brother had attended, considering Savage's immense dislike of large crowds.

“Have fun.” Is Savage’s wry deadpan before his attention is stolen by a gaggle of buzzed Twi’leks who suddenly found themselves latched to his arms. Maul glares in response, and is about to say something snide back, but Savage is all but dragged away by one of the Twi’leks on his arm, her glossy lips pulled into a laugh. Savage sends Maul and you a look that says “Please help”.

Maul turns, and ignores him. Before Maul pulls you out into the hall, you mouth “I’m so sorry” to Savage, just as a turquoise Twi’lek launches himself into Savage’s arms. The yellow Zabrak only stares.

Once in the hall, the relative quiet eats away at the buzz left from the crowd, your racing heartbeat evening itself out. The dim lighting is also a large contrast to inside the room, and the shadows douse you and Maul in muted darkness. Though before you can calm down too much and focus on catching your breath, Maul is all over you once again, his eyes glowing.

“Savage is going to be so mad at us tomorrow.” You say through giggles, letting Maul pull you into his body, in spite of all the eyes potentially watching. He gropes at your soft waist and hips, hands roaming and quick, kneading at your flesh and pulling soft gasps from you, You’re hardly able to keep walking, especially with how Maul has slid a sneaky gloved hand beneath your skirts, rough leather gliding up your thigh, pushing your dress up—

“Maul!” You reprimand, though there’s no bite to it, wriggling in his grasp so that he drops your skirt and gets his fingers away from the hem of your underwear. An Aqualish couple passes by the open doors, and you make very unfortunate eye contact with one of them just as Maul’s gloved hand returns to your hip. They chitter amongst themselves, and you send Maul a withering glare, face hot.

“My apologies.” Maul replies smoothly, absolutely not apologetic, and stealing a kiss as he does. You go to say something else, but Maul unexpectedly doesn’t pull away and inside dips his face to the junction of your neck and shoulder, kissing your skin as he walks you back against the wall. Your bare shoulders touch the cool metal and goosebumps pucker your skin, combined with Maul’s pleasantly hot mouth working a mark on your neck. Hands flying to his chest, you weakly push at him, attempting to pause his advances though he only looms over you further.

“To your room, please.” You whimper, back arching when Maul finishes off sucking at your neck with a small bite. His canines graze your aching skin as he pulls away, the touch having a pleasant sting to it. Maul parts, crimson and black lips brushing against yours as he does.

“My darling.” He repeats that same endearment from earlier, and as before it has you floating amongst clouds, a type of inner tranquility that makes your fingertips tingle and knees quiver. You press close to his warmth— all hard muscle and fine silken robes— hyperfixating on his hand that slides across the low of your back, locking you in place with his arm.

“I’ve never felt this way for someone before.” Maul’s voice barely reaches your ears, as lost in sensations as you are, but they do and you meet his golden eyes to see them filled with something vulnerable. Lifting a hand to caress his cheek, you smile— small, tender, there— and whisper in reply, “I’m so happy to be feeling this with you.”

Maul then grins, the fiery, wolfish one, and squeezes you tighter, then steals your breath away with another ravaged kiss. After a few moments of pure passion, he pulls away and your lips smack.

“I am going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk.” Maul growls, the vulgar words so unlike him, but fitting all the same. The blush beneath your skin spreads to your neck and shoulders, making you feel hot all over. The desire plunges in your core, and you stifle an anticipatory moan by biting your bottom lip.

“Let us retire for the night, hm?” Maul teases, quite aware of the effect he’s had on you— all dewy-eyed and flushed under your skin. You nod and hum in reply, craning your head and kissing the underside of Maul’s jaw, the black skin hot, leaving behind kisses with your wet lips. He growls in the back of his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he groans. He begins walking, still tethered to you by hands and mouth.

“Oh, I think we’ll be doing anything but retiring.” You say back, stealing kisses between words, attempting to keep step with Maul at the same time. Somehow, the two of you manage to stumble to the hall where Maul’s room is, on one of the higher levels of the Sundari Palace. He has his arm tight around you, hand groping your ass, and lips locked with yours and somehow Maul manages to open the door.

He pushes you through the threshold, walking you back step by step until the back of your knees hits his bed. Maul wastes no time in hooking an arm under one of your thighs, bringing your knee up to his hip, all while leaning you back to rest on his silken black sheets. You sigh when your spine hits the bed, the soft mattress dipping under your weight. Maul looms over you, his molten gaze appraising as he takes in your disheveled appearance; your hair tussled, lipstick smudged, dress loose at its ties and pushed up your thighs.

“My dear...” Maul purrs, and your breath hitches when his free hand raises, and the straps that hold your dress up go lax by some unseen actor. The Force pours over your body as it pulls at the ties, the bows coming undone, and rolling the top of your dress down past your collar bones. You arch your back just as the fabric stops, brushing your nipples and nearly revealing them.

“Maul, please.” You gasp, squirming before the crimson Zabrak lowers your leg and both his hands glide up your sides to cup your tits from below. His gloved thumbs roll circles on your nipples and the touch hardens them to stiff points, pulling airy breaths from your lips. Maul isn’t gentle with it, not tender, his hands are rough— hurried, almost desperate— and each roll of your nipple or squeeze of your tits promises his burning desire for you.

“Delectable, exquisite.” Maul groans, roughly tugging your dress past your boobs and rumpling it at your waist. He unintentionally breaks the zipper, the small rip catching your ear, but you have no mind to scold him— not as he leans in and sucks at your chest. You cry out as his mouth works a dark mark on your left breast, arching beneath him. Maul growls, climbs on the bed with one knee next to your body and switches to the right breast, nipping a trail on your skin.

He reaches your right nipple, taking it in between his black and red lips and grazing it with his teeth. Maul is rough, but the pleasure in you soars, not even the accidental graze of his sharp canines on your pert nipple phases you. The heat swirls in your belly, like a growing hurricane, and you rub your thighs together to try and relieve the throbbing of your pussy. Maul, even with his ministrations, notices and shifts to place his knee between your legs. Using his thigh and the Force, he pushes your thighs apart and you whine.

“Oh, no no no... none of that, my darling.” Maul tsks, glaring at you beneath heavy eyelids, his stare teasing. He climbs fully onto the bed, one knee keeping your legs spread, the other next to you, hovering above you like a crimson incubus would to the mortal he’s about to ravish. And, oh does Maul look ravishing— his dark cloak falling around his shoulders like a wine-dark wall of shadow, his chest heaving under his robes, and not to mention the swell of his erection pushing against the fabric of his pants.

“I need you, Maul.” You whisper, eyes darting lackadaisically from his fiery stare to the bulge in his trousers that throbs, tempting and mouth-watering. You want to see his swelled cock, want to feel him deep inside you to quell the aching of your core. He seems to hear that train of thought, or at least senses it, because he anchors himself horizontal above you with one hand, and with the other he unzips his fly, a smirk on his lips.

“In due time.” Maul replies, dipping his head to press wet kisses on your sternum, his hand a fist next to your shoulder. You sigh, reveling in his hot touch and the heat that radiates off him in waves, too deliciously pleasant to try and hurry his advances. Maul kisses down your torso, nipping at the pliant flesh of your belly, then to the softness of your hips. You squirm again, gasping, but Maul pays no heed and only bites at the junction of your hip and thigh, hard.

“Maul!” You yelp his name, the pinch of his teeth sharp enough to jolt you, but not too hard that it’s overly painful. He hums a laugh and licks your irritated skin, kissing it in apology before trailing down your thigh with his tongue. Your body trembles when he reaches the smooth curve of your inner thigh, nose pressed against the bulge of your sex. Maul tilts his head, the horn on his temple poking your leg, and inhales deep through his nose.

“Fuck, you smell nectarean.” Maul growls before licking his tongue in a long, languid stripe through your folds. You cry out, his mouth latching onto your labia, his tongue lapping at your wetness, pulling groans from his throat that vibrate your weeping pussy. Maul offhandedly shimmies his shoulder beneath your thigh, diving in deeper as he does. He tongues your wet, pulsing slit, toying with the sensitive opening.

“I’ve dreamt of this— Of you— for far too long.” He murmurs between frenzied, open-mouth sucks and kisses on your cunt— your mind almost too gone to cognize what he’s saying. But the words register, and as Maul lifts your other thigh over his shoulder, your calves straddling his back, you ask breathily, “How long?”

Maul looks up at you from, a very pensive look suddenly written across his face. Your heart pangs when he turns his head to press his nose against your inner thigh, where he sighs onto your skin.

“A coward’s eternity.” The self-deprecating jab is juxtaposed by the apologetic, soft kiss he leaves on your leg and the heat of his body so near yours. It’s then you realize that he has nothing to apologize for, and that you would’ve waited for all of time, just for him.

“I see no cowards here,” You begin, voice a low whisper before you allow a broad smile to blossom across your face, “But I do see a very handsome Zabrak lord between my legs.”

Maul grins, his teeth grazing your thigh’s skin, and he nips at your flesh. It causes you to jerk and giggle, doing so again when he continues to nip and bite, very lightly, at your inner thighs. 

You continue, a laugh in your throat, “A Zabrak lord who is also unimaginably bull-headed, so that’s why he took so long—!”

Unexpectedly, Maul bites a bit harder and you yelp, knee twitching as Maul holds his teeth on your skin and sucks. The hickey he leaves is dark and near-pulsing on your skin, and while it’s sore, the pain doesn’t phase you. If anything, the slight sting and Maul’s hungry eyes do the exact opposite. Your lips curl into a seductive smirk.

“Show me how much you’ve wanted this.” And with that, you tilt your hips, pushing your wet cunt up, like your some wanton Loth cat in heat. Maul all but snarls with a type of ferocity that he usually levels at those dare cross him. But here, in his bed between your soft thighs, the challenge is seeing just how loud he can make you scream for him.

“Gladly.” He hisses, and then his mouth his back on your throbbing pussy with a fervor, his tongue swirling your clit. You arch your back with a low moan, choking on air when Maul latches his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks, his contented hums reaching your ears. His tongue dips, teases your slit, then licks through your folds, then repeats.

"Ma—aul!" You weep his name, hands fumbling until your fingers lace between his horns. He breathes a laugh when you pull his face closer to your dripping core, hastening his ministrations when you cry out again. Maul places one of his hands on your thigh to hold you open, for him, his delectable meal unmatched.

Your chest is heaving, the feel of Maul's lips and tongues nearly too much to bear over the tight coil building up in your belly. Maul angles his jaw and the sloppy, open mouth kisses, akin to a hound lapping up its meal, have your thighs quivering. You squeeze your eyes shut so tight you see stars, eyebrows furrowed, your pussy throbbing and throbbing...

"I'm gonna—" You pant, airy and high-pitched, "I'm gonna... cum!"

You wail, Maul's fingers squeezing your thigh muscle hard, and come like you've never had before. Even though your eyes are closed, it's like all you see is a blinding light, each of your senses gone into hyperdrive. Wetness gushes from your cunt and soaks Maul's working mouth. He growls again, grinding his raging boner to the mattress as your thighs squeeze around his head as you ride out your orgasm, hips bucking unconsciously.

It’s as the last of the stars behind your eyes fade do you realize Maul has taken to licking up every last drop of your release. Your legs are shaking, inner thighs and sex glossy and sticky, and Maul is in the midst of it all, purring with satisfaction. Weakly, you lift your head to gaze down at him, bleary-eyed, and he offers you a cheeky grin, a dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth.

“I must say, my dear, you taste quite good.” He says, planting a kiss on your hot, still pulsing pussy lips, causing you to whimper. The Zabrak kisses your clit and you gasp, and he continues with utmost pride, “And I must say that I am quite proud of myself for attaining such a dessert.”

That pulls a laugh from your throat, one that Maul smothers after he’s kissed up your body and locked his lips with yours. It’s scandalous, the way that you taste the tang of yourself on his tongue, how you moan when you notice it. Maul hums into your mouth, a low rumble that you feel in his chest, where your hands fall to tug at his clothes.

“And why are you still wearing all your heavy robes hm?” You tease, kissing Maul’s chin, then the sharp edge of his jaw, all while you unclip one of the clasps of his cloak. He meets your stare and undoes the other, unceremoniously tossing the cloak to the floor. You watch with bated breath as he rises above you and slowly pulls off his robes, revealing his beautiful skin and muscle.

Maul’s bare chest is no stranger to you, but the rest of his torso is often covered by his wide belts. Now, you somewhat understand why— a jagged, gruesome scar travels from his right side to his navel, a line of swollen red flesh that mars his midnight tattoos. You’ve heard snippets of what happened to him from Savage, but looking at what the damage had caused, Maul’s injury is worse than anything you had ever imagined.

“Does it disgust you?” Maul asks quietly, and you jolt, embarrassment flooding you when you realize that you’ve been staring for much too long. There’s an emotion you can’t read on his face, one halfway between sadness and shame. Shaking your head, you hastily sit up so that you’re level with Maul, placing an apologetic kiss to his sternum.

“No! Never.” You insist, shuffling close, your hands gliding down to Maul’s tapered waist, then to his belly. He stiffens when your fingers reach the scar, and out of the corner of your eye you see his hand twitch, as if it was going to snatch your wrists and stop you. They don’t, and your palms come to rest on his scar, one of your pinky fingers brushing his belly button.

“Nothing about you disgusts me.” You say in earnest, leaning down and kissing the marred skin between your hands. Maul sucks in a sharp breath, and with your head so close to his body you can hear his hearts pound in his chest, powerful like two steady drums. You smile against his skin, taking this moment to kiss the scar again, then below it, then another below the last. Before long, you’ve followed the V point of his Adonis belt to just above his waistband.

“Minx.” He growls, grabbing you somewhat roughly by your chin and halting your advances. You pout, his swelled erection beneath his pants taunting you— so close, yet so far. Maul swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, humming.

“I want to suck you off, Maul.” You whimper, Maul’s hand gripping your jaw tighter, angling your head up. His eyes are pools of liquid magma, a fire so bright within that it almost hurts to look directly at them— like staring into the twin suns of Tatooine, but you can’t help but bask in their light. His black-tipped fingers are warm on your skin like coals.

“... How kind.” Maul purrs after a stretch of quiet, caressing your cheek, “But tonight I ravish you.”

An invisible force suddenly pulls you flat on your back and flush against the mattress, a yelp escaping you. It holds you firm and unmoving on the bed, an intangible aura trapping your wrists above your head. Maul licks his lips, smirking at how you quiver under the Force’s hold, all due to him.

“My darling,” He continues, leaning in and placing kisses to your heaving chest as he’d done before, “This is all for you— I am all for you.”

A whine passes your kiss-swollen lips when Maul sucks another dark mark onto your skin, all while he climbs atop you. As he does, Maul shimmies out from his pants until the black fabric falls to his knees— revealing his length in all its glory.

Of course he hadn’t worn underwear, instead opting for the more breathable— and wicked— alternative of forgoing them. Your body practically quakes with the anticipatory excitement that floods you when you see Maul’s cock. A perfect shaft, the length of it swollen and tattooed like the rest of him, uncut and rosy at it’s tip. A gift from his Zabrak biology, Maul’s erection has three visible ridges, each wider than the last until the base of it. Dribbles of precum slide down the slit in a way that makes you whimper.

“Maul.” You almost sob his name, moaning when you see his heavy balls between his legs, “Please.”

Maul groans at your needy, desperate plea— restraining himself from going all in and ending the session too quickly. One of his arms slithers beneath your waist while the other hand anchors itself next to your shoulder. In his grasp, your overheated body is nothing compared to his hotness, like the Zabrak before you is the physical embodiment of the sun.

“All for you.” Maul repeats through grit teeth and a low groan, his hips pressing closer, the tip of his cock hot and heavy at your weeping pussy. You cry out when he thrusts in— only the tip— your slit accommodating to his size. The stretch is neither painful nor too much— Maul is a perfect fit and there’s nothing that couldn’t pass your dripping entrance. You angle your hips, and his cock slips in past the first ridge and you moan at the exquisite stretch.

A bead of sweat at his brow from holding in for so long, Maul’s lips pull into a snarl and he takes your eagerness and lack of pain as a go ahead. In one thrust of his pelvis, he spears you on his cock and knocks the wind from your lungs. You scream, fully engrossed in how your walls flutter around his erection, especially at how each ridge practically caresses the most sensitive parts of you.

Maul roars himself, the throaty growl tapering out into a near-pitiful moan of your name, and then he pulls his hips back, and thrusts back in with a fervor. The wet squelch is heard even over your airy moans, and as Maul picks up speed, his concentration falters and your wrists are freed from their invisible shackles. As Maul’s face falls to the side of your neck, your hands grasp at his head.

Fingers wringing his horns, an overwhelming ecstasy overtaking you, a harmonic rhythm is reached— Maul’s hips smack against yours wetly, his cock splitting you open and you, pussy throbbing and clenching around his pistoning length. You tug at his horns, eyes lolled up, begging him silently Kiss me, Maul, kiss me.

You Zabrak acknowledges, and his lips find yours— sloppy, no sense of decorum— all until you’re breathing the air he exhales, and tasting what he tastes of. Bodies rocking in time, the coil in your belly returns quickly, growing tighter and tighter with each sin push and wicked pull of his cock in your core. He groans when you clench around him, squeezing his aching length like a vice and stoking the fire in his belly as well.

“Maul.” You manage to gasp his name between kisses, tears of pleasure pricking your eyes, “Maul!”

“Yours.” He pants to the skin of your cheek, his breath hot and damp, all before he croaks a groan as if its been ripped from his throat and his rhythm stutters. You squeak, toes curling, your peak quickly approaching as you drag one hand down to clasp tight over the back of his neck. The muscle and tendons are taut under your fingers.

It’s then that Maul brings his hand out from under you, fingers sliding over your sweaty, overheated skin, all to reach your pulsing, swollen clit. His thumb finds the bundle of nerves and rubs circles, and you scream his name— eyes flying wide, body jerking— and the heat in your belly soars. Maul smashes his lips to yours again in a searing kiss as he thrusts harder, faster, rolls your clit under his thumb as if his life depends on it.

The harmonic rhythm breaks into something erratic, frantic— wild like two beasts in the wilderness, or two frenzied people chasing their heart’s desires. His mouth breaks away from yours, his pelvis snaps against you, just as the spring inside you snaps, and you come with a silent scream that breaks into a hoarse squeal.

It’s a better orgasm than the first— a gush of wetness between your thighs and coating Maul’s cock, vision going black until the stars of midnight show, muscles tensing and shaking with the force of it—

“Ungh!” Maul chokes when your pussy clenches so tight around his dick that it actually stops his undulating hips and pushes him to orgasm, pulling his full balls up tight to his body. Still high in the clouds, you whimper when you feel Maul’s fire-hot cum shoot into you with a hard spurt, coating your inner sex in liquid gold. One, two, three more ropes of cum enter you, each brought by a hard snap of Maul’s hips to yours, until his testicles are drained and his pistoning hips slow to a shallow grind.

In the midst of your foggy mind, you have it in you to rub your hands up and down Maul’s tense back, gently massaging each muscle. The action grounds the both of you, the rhythmic glides and smoothness of your hands pulling you both back from your highs. As your orgasm fades and your vision refocuses, you meet Maul’s stare.

His eyes are dewy, as if he’s just woken up, but you can recognize that deep, pleasant satisfaction from anywhere. You smile, a big, dopey one as if you’ve taken too much spice, and Maul does the same— the wide one, dimples and all. Your hands stop to rest on the backs of his shoulders, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles on his slightly sweaty skin.

“Oh, my darling.” Maul’s voice is surprisingly gentle, warm, and he swoops in for another breathless kiss, “I am yours forever.”

This kiss is soft, gentle on your overworked and achy lips, but so tender in its nature you practically preen at the attention. Maul reaches up to brush strands of hair from your face, ones that stuck to your damp temples, and you kiss him in thanks. His cock, still nestled within you, twitches.

“I’m so happy with you, Maul. No words can describe it.” You murmur, head lolling to the side as the crimson Zabrak kisses the side of your neck, as well as each mark he left on your skin. He hums in reply, kissing beneath your earlobe as his chest begins to rumble with purrs.

“I feel the same.” Maul says, and he shifts his body, his cock dragging against your hypersensitive walls and causing you to gasp in pleasure. Your grip on his shoulder tighten, and Maul laughs low in his throat. His blistering gaze meets yours, suddenly looking very much as he had earlier.

“May we continue our... bonding experience?” He teases, rocking his body once just to gage how you react to his swelling erection. You gasp and throw your head back into the inky sheets below you, legs drawing up to your body until your thighs find a home on Maul’s waist.

He must have no refractory period, but the way his warm, hard body and the sinful way you feel his seed leak from you makes you buzz with energy. From your head to your toes, you desire Maul like no other. You lift your head off the mattress, and grin coquettishly. 

“The night has just begun.” You say cockily, and before you can even take your next breath, Maul has smothered your lips with his. Muffled giggles, soft moans, and the shuffles of sheets and clothes fill the room— carrying out to the night sky through the open windows, on the breeze that the floor-length blinds shiver in— like two bodies tethered with one another.

Indeed, the night is very long.

And it is immensely hard to walk the next day.

[ozetia]

hi hi can i request the nsfw alphabet for terushima plz 👉🏽👈🏽

also i just followed and i love ur stuff !!

Thank you lovely ^.^ sorry this is late!

Terushima NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare

Terushima always tries his best to look after you after sex but sometimes he does struggle, he likes to share out the responsibilities he does the cleaning and you get some snacks. Although he does go over the top with compliments but that’s in his nature.

B = Body parts

He loves his cock (sorry for it being blunt but it’s true) he gives you so much pleasure from using it that he’s content with it. Sometimes he just wants you to cockwarm his cock when you have time it makes him feel like his life is extended by 2 years.

His favourite body part of yours is your thighs. He can lay on them, he can sit on them and he can thrust inbetween them when your poor cunt is sore and tired. He loves squishing your thighs and most of his presents consist of thigh highs.

C = Cum

He likes to cum on your thighs and stomach. There’s nothing more sexy than watching his cum run down your stomach sometimes not makes me want to go for another round.

D = Dirty secret

He secretly wants to buy you roleplay costumes so he can indulge in his maid x master fantasy however he’s too scared to ask and every time he tries talking to you about it he turns into a stuttering mess.

E = Experience

Unfortunately unlike the fuck-boy persona he has he’s never been able to pull a girl in his past. He’s learn from first time experience with you and hearing his other companions stories.

F = Favourite position

Terushima loves doggy style not only can he see your ass but he can always see your thighs jiggle from the power of his thrusts.

G = Goofy

He’s intense and serious during sex, he relies on your moans to know if he’s doing well although after he cracks a few jokes and apologies.

H = Hair

As terushima is a hairdresser don’t blame him if he comes in the bedroom with a star shaped pattern in his pubes, he’ll claim it’s the new fashion statement and he’ll want to do yours too. There’s nothing more intimate than a couple with matching pubes.

I = Intimacy

He keeps eye contract directly with you and never leaves your face. He tries to be intimate using his words but it always comes across as cringy.

J = Jackoff

He struggles to jack off without you there beside him he prefers mutual masturbation than sitting in a room alone trying to imagine your face. He jacks off 2 times a week. If he’s feeling in the mood and you’re not there he’ll wait for you to come home.

K = Kink

He has a daddy/ master kink, if you ever want his attention all you need to do is call him one of these names.

L = Location

Terushima keeps all things in the bedroom, he can’t risk someone seeing you after all most people in the neighbourhood are his clients. He also loves the thought that no one else gets to see you like this in the bedroom and only he has the chance to do this.

M = Motivation

You being in the mood turns him on he swears your pheromones will be the death of him. He’s a simple man he sees you and his cock is hard no questions asked.

N = No

Wax-play is a no - there’s too much of a risk that he’ll hurt you.

Breeding - he hasn’t got enough money for you both to take part in a family lifestyle. He’s not a big fan of kids to begin with so he’s rather not take the risk.

O = Oral

He’s half and half he likes receiving and giving oral. He’ll never turn down pleasure that you want to give him and he’ll never let you go without any.

P = Pace

Terushima pace is brutal and harsh. He likes to be fast and direct. He wants you to cum faster than him and so he makes this happen.

Q = Quickie

He likes quickies as much as he likes normal sex both give off the same amount of pleasure but there’s just a lack of time. He takes what’s offered to him with open hands.

R = Risks

As explained he doesn’t like to take risks. He hasn’t really looked into kinks in the bedroom so it’ll take him time to get introduced but as time goes he’ll be willing to take risks.

S = Stamina

Terushima is energetic therefore he’ll last an average of 40 minutes to an hour and a half. He also keeps a record of how long he lasts.

T = Toys

Probably doesn’t even know you own one until you tell him. Does he get self conscious yes but does he grow out of it and let you use it yes.

U = Unfair

He doesn’t like waiting as it also delays what he wants so he’s not big on teasing. But if he’s in the mood to tease - which is a 5% chance then he will tease you.

V = Volume

Unfortunately Terushima thought that if he voiced his pleasure it was less manly off him after he passed this stage he moans along side you just as loud as you. It’s not obnoxious he just wants you to know that he feels the same.

W = Wildcard

Terushima has more than once hit doggy style on you in his friends apartment out of pettiness.

X = X-ray

He’s of average height and a big on the lanky side so his cock is on the average side of 5-6 inches he’s not girthy but he has a beautiful curve in his cock which is just 👌🏻

Y = Yearning

His sex drive is hooked onto you sex drive. So whether your sex drive is insane or just average his will be the same.

Z = Zzzz

He likes to sleep the exact time as you although half of the time he sleeps earlier and you can’t blame him poor boy tries so hard to make you feel so good and he does so well. He deserves beauty sleep

[morimallow]

Hi hiiii. This is my first time requesting but... would you mind writing Kita's NSFW Alphabet? MY MAN DESERVES THE HYPE ;) Thank youuuu <3

I didn't proof read this so feel free to correct any of my mistakes.

I'm so sorry I didn't make this GN, it's so hard to go into detail. 😥

NSFW Alphabet (Kita Shinsuke)

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

King of aftercare. This guy won't leave you unattended. He'll draw a nice warm bath for you. If he's feeling it, he'd take a bath with you. Gives you a body massage, which usually leads to another set of rounds, when he was extra rough that day. Will whisper that you did good taking him in, you won't even know if he's praising you or teasing you. Every thing he does for aftercare just makes you wanna have sex with him all over again.

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

He loves his arms and back because that's where you usually hook on for support which also means he likes you marking him. He wouldn't even care if someone saw your scratch marks, he's low-key showing you off. He likes the way you grip on him like he's your only source of strength. He doesn't have a favorite part of your body though because that's all you. It's all his, you're all his. Why would he want a favorite? He loves every inch of your body and makes sure they receive equal attention.

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

This guy wears condoms. Cleanliness. To avoid unwanted pregnancy. Cum? Straight to the condom. Sometimes when he's close, he'd pull out his dick, remove the condom and cum on you while his fingers do wonders to your hole. He does it raw with you sometimes ─ either you insisted on doing it and after asking if you’re sure many times, he’d comply or if he’s extra horny and he’s sure you’re on a safe day and on your pills.

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

His left ear is extra sensitive and he likes it when you nibble on it and suck on the area behind it. He doesn't know you've figured it out, he just thinks it's your favorite spot to suck on.

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

At first, since he solely relied on knowledge on paper and sites, he tested those out and it came out bad. He used to read sex articles and stuff found on the internet. He’s intelligent enough to know vaginas don’t smell like roses and taste like sweet candy as they described them to be. He then started to listen to the twins’ conversations and eventually got caught up in those said conversations. You won’t change my mind that they exchange sex tips and tricks. Kita came to be their master or something. His dick kind of makes up for his lack of techniques and such during sex but still! He pleasures you. He does his absolute best to make you feel good. He asks you if you want him to go deeper, if you want him to thrust harder. He'd probably do anything and everything you want him to do as long as you're pleased.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Side fuck because he doesn't skip leg day. /j

Yes, side fuck — second to missionary. The side fuck but not really…? God, I hate this, I don’t know what it’s called. Basically, he’s on his side and you’re lying on your back. The first time he did you in this position, he had leg cramps and it was extremely painful but he enjoys this position nevertheless. He likes that you’re so close to his body, that he can see how your hole devours his cock, and of course, your lips are so close to him he can just turn your moans into heavy breaths in his mouth. 

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

He takes everything seriously and, of course, this isn’t an exception. Okay, so, his grannyma tells him someone's always watching but he stopped caring. He doesn't get nervous about things he does regularly, on a daily basis. But y'all don't have sex daily (who does tho?), so he's kinda nervous and giddy (he doesn’t show it). His top priority is to make you feel good always. He’d usually whisper to your ear some lines that go like, “you’re squeezing me so tight, I won’t go anywhere, I’m all yours, baby” without knowing this turns you on so fucking much.

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

Having black and white pubes would be weird so I'm saying it's black.. and thick. The aesthetic kind of thick (LOL, WHAT?). Okay, he's clean. He doesn't shave it fully but trims it every month because he knows the benefits of keeping your pubes. Neat guy, neat privates.

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

Kita showers you with compliments and words of assurance but it always comes out as dirty talk? He’d say you’re so good ─ that he wants to come inside you so bad because you’re just begging for him to do so with how you squeeze him so tight. But then again, the way he whispers those three words turns you on more than any other thing he had said. His hands never leave your body. He doesn't seem like the possessive type but he want you to remember his touches.. and only his. He won't grip the sheets or the headboard whenever he pounds into you. He places his hands on your cheeks, neck, your waist. He pulls you close and moans in your mouth as he comes. Always.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Believe me, he doesn’t jack off that often. It’s not because of what his granny says that someone’s always watching him but because he knows you’d come to him and you’d come for him. When you’re far away from each other, he can’t help but miss you and your touch and that’s where his trusty right hand comes into play. He always calls you when he jacks off. If you’re not available, he’d leave a voicemail so just be careful not listening to it in public.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink but reverse? LMAO, is this a thing? He likes it when he praises someone during sex, he likes the mewls coming out of your mouth whenever he calls you a good girl.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He likes to do it on the bed because a.) you’re both comfortable and b.) unlimited sex positions. He likes the way you grip on the bedsheets, the way your heels dig onto the mattress, how he can feel your warmth everywhere. The bathroom is another thing. He likes the coldness of it and the only source of heat is each other’s body, he likes the way you make lewd faces when he fucks you in front of the bathroom mirror, when he eats you out while sitting on the toilet and how intimate you get under the running water.

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

He gets harder even more that it hurts not to come inside your cunt when you try your best to not let out moans because his granny might hear you next door so he asks you if you if he can and you’d nod your head frantically because the way his cock throbs inside you as he comes makes you think that your hole was made for him.

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

He kind of likes spanking you but caning is just a no-go.

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

Did you expect this? He prefers giving. I mean, come on, he solely relied on porn clips which are far from real sex and his performance was just a little below average before so he likes to think that giving the best oral to his current partner is an apology to what his previous partner/s had/have suffered but this doesn’t mean he thinks of someone else during sex. It’s just that… Fuck it, that’s it. He prefers giving.

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

This depends on the mood and occasion. I mean, I personally think people have the other side hidden in their deepest desires, they just didn’t find the person to be with yet but in you and Kita’s case, you communicate very well. You want him to go hard and fast? He’d say okay. You want to be slow and sensual? He’d start off with a sweet and passionate kiss.

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

He thinks it’s convenient and risky but hot. You guys don’t do this often though because what’s worse than getting horny in public and Kita locking you in a cubicle to calm yourself down because he suspected this would just be a wholesome date? But you have sex every once in a while, in their backyard garden and that was wonderful.

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

He doesn’t usually ride with you whenever you suggest something in the sexual aspect because he sticks to what he knows and he only believes that certain things are possible when a witness or trusted articles support the claims. You’d think he just doesn’t want to do things with you but he’s actually considering your likes and dislikes. He, for sure, knows what you’d like and dislike because he closely keeps an eye on you.

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

He can go for two to four rounds in average. How long it lasts usually depends on you because he knows he can handle himself well, thrusting into you nonstop.

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

He doesn’t like toys and doesn’t understand why it doesn’t make him feel things like how they described it to be in the articles he had read before when you guys tried toys but you insisted in giving him a cock ring just in case he wants to wait for you to call back when he masturbates.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kita usually doesn’t tease you although he’s already kind of teasing you when he compliments you during sex but he does once in a while. He’d delay your orgasm as much as he can control himself not to ram into you faster and harder when he knows your horniness is out of the meter and whenever he senses you want some kind of teasing. How he knows when you’re like that? He says that’s his sixth sense.

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

Kita Shinsuke never fails to let out a loud moan when he comes, it’s literally the best thing you heard from him. It’s hot and deep just like how his dick is inside you. If he was going rough, you’d probably hear more of those moans, every spurt of cum from his dick makes him emit more of his beautiful sound.

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

He sleeps naked. Send tweet.

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

His dick is so pink and pretty ─ the best shades of nude and rose, I’m not even kidding. He takes care of his body so much and you both take care of his dick. A six-inch dick is good enough, no? his biceps are everything, arms so strong he can fuck you standing for a long time.

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

His sex drive is on the average level. He’d have sex with you if you want to, you’d have sex with him if he wants to because somehow, your desires always match so it’s like your minds are saying you want to have sex… at the same time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As the king of aftercare, he only sleeps when you're taken care of already, when you're neatly tucked against him. Letting his lips curve into a smile, he can only then go to sleep.

M. List

[raeiyyn]

omg hii!! ive been wanting to stalk & go thru ur blog since so long, just did it & omg im in LOVE w ur blog. i mean- the theme, the aesthetics- im in loveeee AAA!! i hope u had a rlly nice day & ur being kind to urself!! take care, love u & take this too 🍰 <3

hiiiiii I already apologize for my (very) poor communication skills qjdjeuwj but thank you so much akdjfuenwndjd

it's just me (constantly) internally screaming and hitting reblog like 2746 times a day from my v cool tumblr mutuals (especially you)

and I love to read your poetry! they hit so close to home 🥺 I hope we get to see more of it (if and when you are comfortable sharing it with us)

I wish you love and warmth <3

ps I am so so sorry for delaying answering this, this made me smile so hard

[cirtus]

‘SUP! ty for the messages so far and apologies for the delay (are we surprised) but i’m here because i’ve been dying for a 1x1 collective since forever....... so can u blame me?🧍‍♂️ 

+ plots:

group haunted sharehouse/boarding dorm typa thing

long-distance relationships meeting for the first time/after several years? stuff like that

married college professors LMFAO

competitive professionals in the same field

celebrity verses where one is a non-celeb and the celeb has to fake date someone else / BOTH celebs fake dating for rep’s sake / bitchy co-stars always trying to steal the limelight/idol group dynamics / fan/staff/trainee v idol aus / celebs beyond their glory days

coming of age, slice of life stuff

marriage out of convenience (accidental, for student loan waivers, for business, etc)

criminal + law enforcer working together OR partners in (actual) crime

everything else can be found here

so yea *grabby hands* plot w/ me!!!!!

[bucci-gang]

Heyo have you done nsfw a-z with um formaggio? If you hadn't can i have one?

OH i haven't yet, but of course you can! ;0 I LOVE this man so damn much– apologies for the delay/weird format! I'm editing this on my phone ^^'

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

He tends to use up a lot if not all of his pent up energy during the deed, so although it might take him a while, he'd get to cleaning you both up first! Then he's down to either cuddle or eat— mostly the latter.

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

On himself, he really likes his eyes and his arms! He's been told he has nice hips and thighs so that's been a real confidence booster for him. On a partner, he loves softness, but if he had to pick, he's definitely a boob man!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Formaggio kinda cums a lot and makes quite the mess when he's, ahem, spending some quality time with himself, and this of course extends to with a partner! He doesn't have much of a preference, but he does think cumming inside (whether it be in his partner's mouth, pussy or ass) is really hot.

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

He's fantasized to Risotto more than a couple of times. Mostly ones about domming the stoic capo, but he has most certainly thought of Risotto fucking him. Not that he'd ever admit to any of this, though.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

As a chronic flirt, he's quite experienced! He is a little bit hesitant to try some of the "harder" stuff, i.e. anything concerning blood or choking, but he's tried a lot from spanking to mild roleplay.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Cowgirl, hands down. He can't help it– sometimes all he wants is to lay back and watch his partner take care of him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He'll crack a few jokes here and there as per the usual Formaggio-fashion, but he's definitely more serious than his usual self.

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

He doesn't really care much about it! But, since he sleeps around quite a bit, he's tidier than one would expect.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

He's definitely not romantic to people he just met, but with a partner, he is most definitely. Formaggio coos and groans into their ear about how much he loves them and how good they feel– stuff like that.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He does it quite a bit! Some members (namely Melone, Ghiaccio and Illuso) have walked in on him more than once, and it has... led up to one or two ocassional trysts.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Formaggio is into domming his partner; be it in a more gentler setting where he's praising and cooing at his partner, or even when he's a bit rougher and teasing them to no end. Nothing gets him off faster than seeing his partner begging and squirming for him.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He doesn't have much of a preference, but he is into the idea of semi public sex!

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

He's mostly about words, and appreciative gazes. If his partner is a bit bolder and purposefully talk in a way that gets him hot, he'd be on them in a heartbeat. But, if his partner is a bit shyer, he has no problem teasing them until they give and tell him what he wants to hear.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He's not really into getting penetrated– whoops. He's tried it before, certainly, but it just isn't the same as getting to fuck someone. He also isn't really into degrading, not unless it's combined with some praising.

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

Formaggio is really good at giving– he always just seems to know what to do with his tongue and where to touch his partner to get them squirming. He has no preference over receiving or giving!

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the day. Usually, he goes for slow and passionate, soon getting rougher as they go along, but he can totally do with it being rough from the start.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He loves them! Honestly, any action with his partner is good action.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Yes! He'd want to take risks and such, but he'd discuss it with his partner beforehand, making sure they were comfortable with things before he did anything.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Usually since he's so pent up, he can go for two rounds. But if things have been slow lately and he's had more time to just lounge around and do thing, he can usually last for three rounds before needing a long break.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

I don't think he owns toys tbh! I think the only toy he'd let a partner use on him is a collar or handcuffs, but otherwise he'd rather watch his partner use the toy on themselves, or him using the toy on them.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He only likes to drag it out as soon as his partner starts begging him to just ruin them already. He loves their flushed face and their cute, pleading voice.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

I wouldn't exactly say he's loud, but he can be quite vocal. He talks and talks during sex, but it's soft cooing, moaning and groaning at his partner. He tells them just how much he's enjoying this, and how good they feel.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He and Risotto were actually each other's first male partners. Having been close to one another for a while, seeing each other naked wasn't really considered weird between them or anything, but maybe it had been the time of the night then, or the fact that they both haven't seen each other for a good couple of years...

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Honestly, he's packing! He's almost 8 inches, and fairly thick. He's uncut, and has a happy trail!

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

High to average! Again, his job leaves him feeling quite pent up or just otherwise bored sometimes, so he's gotta put in that energy elsewhere.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Once he and his partner are cleaned up, he usually drifts off pretty quickly! He usually tries to stay up to either chat or cuddle or both, but usually ends up falling asleep halfway through that anyway.