#darth maul one shots

[kaminokatie]

Horns || Darth Maul

Synopsis - You wash Maul's horns in the shower.

Warnings - NSFW.

Word Count - 1.8k

[Caffeinate Me]

It was night by the time he finally came to visit you. The hinges of your door creaked ever so faintly as Maul slowly pushed it open, revealing your sleeping form on the couch. Your holopad lay screen side down on your chest indicating to him that you had been reading before eventually falling asleep. Quietly Maul made his way over to your unconscious body, admiring you as he did. He was as careful as he could be in an attempt to not wake you, but unfortunately he wasn’t quiet enough. His foot stepped on a floorboard that happened to creak particularly loudly, forcing you to shoot up from your lying position now sitting up. The Sith was as still as he could be as your head snapped towards him, but he just grinned at you. After a few seconds of pure panic that someone had broken into your home, you jumped off the couch and ran over to him. “Maul!” You gasped, throwing your body against his and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, reciprocating the hug. His own arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” you replied, pulling away from the hug and separating your bodies. When your touching reunion had ended, you slapped him across the face. “That was for scaring me! I thought someone broke into my apartment! You should have knocked!” 

“I thought you left it open for me,” he shrugged, pulling you back against him. Maul couldn’t help but grin down at you as you rested your head against his chest, listening to the way his heart beat against his ribcage. 

“I missed you,” you whispered again. Maul replied by tilting your head up to look at him and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He might have been the big bad Sith, Darth Maul, but to you he was just a sweetheart. He bit your bottom lip playfully as you pulled away, gazing into his yellow eyes. “I need to shower,” you said suddenly, stepping away from him once more. “Care to join me?” 

“How could one resist such a tempting invitation,” Maul grinned teasingly, following as you made your way to the bathroom. 

You stepped into the cool bathroom and immediately turned the water on, the cold water that was spewing from the shower head heated up almost instantaneously. You stripped off your clothing and stepped under the hot water, allowing it to fall all over your skin. You welcomed the heat, especially since the weather outside was so cold, and welcomed the man behind you even more. Maul himself was now naked and stepping into the shower behind you, wrapping his arms around your hips. He continued to press his body close to yours in an attempt to have some of the hot water trickle down his tattooed body. 

Maul leaned to the side to pick up the scented body wash you loved so much and began to lather up his hands before placing them on your hips once more. His hands absentmindedly began to wash your body, trailing up your hips and to your breasts as he massaged them softly. You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as his fingers tweaked your nipples, rubbing the sensitive nubs between his fingertips. “Do you like that princess?” Maul asked huskily in your ear, his fingers still toying with your nipples. You nodded your head, mouth hung open slightly and head thrown back. Then Maul moved his hands to your shoulders, lathering the rest of your body in the sweet smelling soap. Letting out a content sigh, you smiled as Maul continued to massage your shoulders, letting the stress of the day be washed away. 

“I needed that,” you mumbled as Maul finished washing your body. You turned to him and grabbed the soap, a wide smile on your face. “Your turn!” Maul just grunted in approval as you began to wash his legs, hands then tracing the tattoos on his stomach before leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Have you had a good day?” You asked him as you washed his back. 

“Would have been better if you were there,” he replied with a shrug. “But you’re here now.” You moved your hands to the top of his head and began to wash his horns, earning a gasp from the Zabrak in front of you. “What are you doing?” 

“Washing your horns,” you said. “They’re in desperate need of a wash.” 

You knew his horns were a soft spot for him so you were being as gentle as you possibly could be. Your fingers glided across the roughness, making their way to the base and massaging the soap around them. Maul let out a soft moan as you continued moving your fingers around his horns softly. Despite being as careful as you could, you felt his cock hardening against your stomach which caused you to let out a satisfactory laugh. 

“Are you getting excited there?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, a low growl emitted from his throat. 

In an instant, Maul moved you from the water stream and dunked his head under, rinsing off the remaining soap on his head before scooping you up as if you weighed nothing and carrying you to the bedroom. “Maul! We’re both soaked!” You shrieked, giggling slightly as he threw you down onto the bed. 

“Yes you are,” he grinned as he positioned himself between your thighs, staring at your glistening cunt. Within a second, Maul had already licked a stripe up your folds forcing you to shiver at the coolness of his tongue against your heat. His tongue circled your clit before returning back to your tight little hole, his nose bumping against your sensitive bundle of nerves with each thrust of his tongue inside of you. You let out a loud moan as your hands went to grasp at his horns in a desperate attempt to keep his mouth on you. As soon as your hands grasped around two of his horns, Maul let out an animalistic growl, surprising you. 

“I’m sorry!” You cried out, throwing your head back against the pillows. 

“Don’t be,” he groaned, mouth still on your pussy. He was lapping and slurping greedily at everything he could get his mouth on, like a man starved for generations. Maul’s teeth nibbled at your clit, earning a gasp of surprise to fall from your mouth. 

“Stars, Maul. I’m going to cum if you keep doing that,” came your whimpered voice, shaky from the pleasure he was giving you. 

“Cum for me, my star,” he ordered, voice gruff against your cunt, sending vibrations up your body. You tightened your legs around his head, ignoring the searing pain of his sharp horns digging into your thighs and cutting them as you came over his tongue. Blood trickled down his horns and Maul immediately trailed his tongue up to the cuts, licking up the blood. “Every part of you tastes absolutely divine.” 

“Don’t say that,” you whispered breathlessly, body going limp as he climbed on top of you, positioning his cock against your hole. With one swift movement, Maul slammed himself inside of you. Your walls fluttered around his cock, ridges stretching you open just for him. A loud moan left both of your lips as you adjusted to the length now inside of you. Eventually, you tapped Maul on the shoulder and whimpered, “I’m ready.”

Maul wasted no time, immediately pulling out of you before spearing you back onto him viciously. He loved you, yes, but he wasn’t gentle with you. Not when you teased him in the shower the way you did, even if you didn’t mean to. Your legs wrapped around Maul’s waist, pulling his bottom half flush against you as his hips continued to smash against your own. His head dipped to your neck, teeth biting at your throat without mercy. “You feel so good,” he groaned shamelessly against your neck. “Only you can make me feel like this, my star.” 

“Maul please,” you begged. You wanted more. Anything. Just more of him. 

“Please what?” He asked, a grin covering his lips. 

“I need more!” You cried out, nails raking down his back. 

“Of course, anything for you,” he whispered, his hips moving as fast as he possibly could. 

Sounds of skin-slapping-skin filled the room followed by both of your pants and moans of pleasure. It was like something out of those erotic holo-movies you watched when Maul wasn’t around. Just as you were about to cum, Maul pulled out of you. Before you could protest and whine, he flipped you over onto all fours and slammed himself back inside of you. Maul’s hands gripped your wet hair, pulling your head back so you could look at him and exposing your neck to him so he could once again bite down on your sensitive flesh. Your hands grasped at the sheets below as you held on for dear life and let out a silent scream as Maul bit your neck, drawing slight drops of blood. “Oh kriff Maul please don’t stop I’m going to cum again,” you managed to gasp out. 

With a grunt and a nod of his head, Maul let go of your hair and pushed your head down so you were squished against the covers, his hands forcefully grabbing at your hips as he continued to pound against you relentlessly. “Going to fill you up my star,” he growled as he reached his own peak.  Poetically, you both came together and a mixture of your moans and Maul’s growls echoed across the room. He fucked his cum deep inside of you as your body spasmed below, not bothering to stop until he was satisfied that it had fully penetrated you. Then, he rolled off of you, breathing heavily as he stared up at the ceiling. 

“That was…”

“Incredible? Amazing? Mind blowing?” Maul asked, a smile on his lips. 

“All of the above,” you giggled breathlessly. “I love you, Maul.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to your cheek as you settled down next to him. 

You curled your body up, knees pressing against your chest as you settled down for the night. You knew you’d probably have to shower again in the morning, washing the sweat and dried blood from your body, but that was something that could wait. For now, you were content in Maul’s arms as he wrapped them around you bringing you as close to him as you possibly could be without laying on top of him. Darth Maul might have been a scary Sith, but to you, he was everything you could ever ask for.

[its-not-a-pen]

favourite running gag: Maul talks in cursive while everyone else talks in normal comic font.

[laurabwrites]

New Fic: A Different Fixation

Darth Maul always suffers Force-given visions of the future for years and years after his defeat on Naboo. In this universe, he fixates on a different target. One a lot less steady as a Jedi. One a lot easier to give a little push into Darkness...

[thegreatwicked]

Meditations

Mediations

For Madelight

Summary: Amid the summer heat on Dathomir, Maul finds himself unable to sleep, restless thoughts stirring within him. Seeking solace, he attempts meditation, only to be joined by his companion Zeala. As they navigate the challenges of finding inner calm, their connection deepens, and unspoken emotions come to the surface. Together, in the quiet moments of the night, they discover a shared intimacy that transcends words and the boundaries of their world.

Notes: Do I need to explain that this takes place in an alternate universe? No? Ok, so here we go. Maul, Savage, and Feral are alive and whole, Maul was not bisected in this universe. The three brothers return to Dathomir after the near massacre of their people to find Mother Talzin, dying. Desperate to see Dathomir reborn, Mother Talzin tasks the strongest of her children, Maul, to bring about a new age on Dathomir. Maul alongside his brothers and his mate, Zeala. Zeala is a native Dathomirian woman who was taken as a young child from her world and raised as a bounty hunter. She meets Maul on Mandalore and they are an established item. If you are a cannon snob then this is not the story for you, please see yourself out or sit down and enjoy. Get’cha an orange creamsicle cause this is gonna be spicy. 

Dathomir.

The summer night wraps around the world outside, creating a dark backdrop dotted with sparkling stars like keiber crystals. It is captivating yet eerie, embodying the world's dual nature. The air is heavy and hot, and the sun's departure has not done much to make the temperature more bearable. Occasionally, a warm breeze wanders through the long hallways, briefly relieving the persistent warmth. Despite the inviting bed and the cool sheets against my skin, I cannot seem to fall asleep. I look around the room without any real purpose, feeling frustrated without a clear reason. The day has been lengthy and satisfying, my mind occupied and content. My body is tired, but each time I shut my eyes, my thoughts remain restless.

The physical comfort alone should be enough, but a restless feeling under my skin stops me from finding the peace I crave. My stare fixes upon the ceiling; an empty canvas that holds no answers, provokes no thoughts, and elicits no emotions.

In the haven of my home, solitude feels like a distant memory. My brothers stand by my side to share my burdens, and even as my mother's final days approach, her presence remains as she guides me to the task of rebuilding our home. She celebrates my son and has embraced Zeala, my mate, as one of her own, teaching her the magics that are her birthright.

Next to me, she rests, my mate and companion, enveloped in the solace that rightfully befits a woman of Dathomir. Her ghostly hair flows like a silken veil across the pillow that she holds close to her chest. Slumbering on her stomach, her arms encircle the pillow she clings to as if finding refuge in its embrace.

The intricate tattoos adorning her form draw my gaze down her body, tracing the delicate curve of her back and waist before disappearing beneath the sheet that grazes her hips. Her very presence in my life is still something of a mystery to me, a riddle I have never been able to solve. 

Companionship. 

It is not something the path of a Sith or Night Brother would have ever afforded to me. As a Sith, lust and embracing of passions was encouraged but such connections led to mercy and mercy was weakness. As a Night Brother the only touch of a woman I would have ever known was as a breeder in servitude to the Night Sisters. Devoid of any sense of equality.

However, Zeala challenges those conventions, carving out her role in my existence as a true equal. Such a thing would have been deemed heretical by both Sith and Night Sisters.

In her presence, I discover a paradox—a connection that feels both forbidden and undeniable. She is mine to protect, mine to touch, sometimes to fight with, and has born my son; complexities that defy my training and upbringing. But I am a Sith no more. And I am not bound by the traditions of the Night Brothers and Night Sisters.

As I contemplate these reflections, her delicate figure stirs, turning on the pillow, arms reaching overhead in a contented stretch. Her naked body is now revealed to my appreciative gaze. Bathed in the moonlight, its gentle glow caresses the curves of her skin, mingling with her tattoos and the various scars from battles she's endured, along with the unmistakable imprints left by carrying my son. A surge of lust courses through my veins and my hearts beat faster. My hands flex with the urge to reach over and touch her, it is overwhelming the sudden desire I have for her; to taste her perfect breasts, to envelope myself in her warmth and make her sing for me. The spectral beauty she possesses stirs sensations within me that at times, I am still learning to understand and control, yet my reverence for her keeps me from waking her. In this quiet contemplation, I make my choice. 

It is time to seek solace in solitude, to find my path amidst the swirling tempest of thoughts and emotions. 

My path leads me down the ancient stone hallways to a chamber which lies mostly bare and unadorned; yet graced by an open balcony that gifts me a panoramic view of Dathomir’s desolately, haunting landscape. Torches cast a gentle, flickering light upon the walls, creating a dance of shadows that mirrors my inner contemplations. 

My legs fold into a familiar cross-legged posture, and I close my eyes, deliberately cutting off the world's visual distractions. Through the balcony, a warm breeze caresses my skin, carrying with it the essence of Dathomir's spirit, both harsh and alluring.

With each breath, I attempt to cast off the shackles of the outside world. Muscles taut from battles struggle to relax, slowly despite my training to always be ready, yielding to the sensation of the breeze and the coolness of the stone beneath me. My breath becomes a lifeline, a guide leading me back to the present moment.

Inhale. Exhale. 

The rhythm of my twin heartbeats reverberate within me, a unique cadence born of Zabrak physiology. This is my anchor, grounding me in the now, granting me a brief reprieve from the chaos that clutters my mind.

As I continue to breathe, the world fades into the background. My consciousness extends, attempting to merge with the land, the air, and the very pulse of the planet. Yet I am further disappointed. Frustration simmers beneath my controlled exterior as my efforts to clear my mind continue to be thwarted by an ever-persistent barrage of thoughts. I release a measured breath, acknowledging my momentary defeat and my shoulders slump as if to surrender to the weight of my internal chaos. 

Suddenly her presence calls to me at the edges of my consciousness. 

I can sense her behind me.

The very air changes as she silently observes my struggles. She waits quietly for a few moments before seeking me out. Trying to ascertain whether I am receptive to her presence or if she should leave me, but the truth of the matter is, that it is a rare occasion that I do not desire her closeness. Even in my most angered state, when I feel more beast than man and pulse with anger powerful enough to rip worlds apart, Zeala’s presence, her touch, and her very breath on my skin soothes me; and I do not understand it. 

Her footfalls are soft against the stone floor, approaching as if trying not to startle a skittish creature. I find myself contemplating if that is the lens through which she views me. However, there is no need for her to tread so cautiously, I hold an unspoken devotion to my mate that runs so deep, that I would readily offer my very lifeblood before ever causing her a shred of harm.

A ripple of awareness draws my focus to the cool touch of her hand gliding across my back. She kneels behind me and I can feel the warmth of her breath on my skin as her forehead rests between my shoulder blades—the gesture is both intimate and grounding. This is the sensation I yearn for when thoughts of her consume my mind. And that is the puzzling part—no Night Brother has ever experienced such a connection with a Night Sister. Regardless of how and where Zeala and I met and what our courses are, she is, at her core, a Dathomirian woman. And this union we have, this connection we share is unusual for our shared culture.

Our bond is unparalleled, defying the norms of our customs. It is more than mere intimacy—it is a bond unlike any other. She comprehends me, understanding my thoughts and desires sometimes before I even realize them myself. In another life, the ways of the Sith would dictate severing all connections with her, perhaps even snuffing out her life; viewing her as a vulnerability not to be tolerated. But I am no longer a Sith; I have become Maul once more, son of Dathomir. While the grip of the Sith teachings has weakened, their lessons remain deeply ingrained, making it challenging to dismiss them entirely.

In the customs of our people, parity would elude us; I would assume a subservient role to her, bowing to her, her wishes and whims guiding my stars. If she commanded, offer my blood for any cause she deems worthy. I would exist to serve her, aiming to bring her pleasure; a life not wretched compared to my past horrors. Nonetheless, the intimacy we embrace would not be sanctioned, our cohabitation forbidden. Her absence from my side in our shared bed breeds frustration. 

Gradually, these musings disperse, replaced by a hint of a smile as I savor the wordless tenderness she offers. It is a curious revelation, having spent a lifetime devoid of such connections or sensations, yet finding myself relishing them so profoundly, yearning for their presence. The whisper of her breath caresses my spine gently, a subtle disruption to my usual composure. With my eyes firmly shut, I maintain my focus, her proximity an intermittent interruption in my concentration.

Breaking the silence with a quiet and knowing tone, I address the situation, curious about the disturbance that has roused her from what should be a peaceful slumber. 

“What has awakened you?”

"I could hear the thunder of your thoughts," She remarks in a whisper, her voice a blend of tenderness and desire. It is a comparison that always catches me by surprise, a reminder of her unique connection to my inner world, even though she cannot truly read my mind.

“I highly doubt that.” My tone is light-hearted with amusement, as I release a breath and temporarily abandon my efforts. "I did not want to disturb your rest." It often surprises me how I think of her well-being before my own. 

I shift my gaze toward her, allowing her fingers to glide up my neck, their delicate trail making its way to trace the creased lines on my forehead. Only Zeala possesses the ability to offer such a touch—one that carries a deep tranquility; a connection that is exclusively ours. I convey how my thoughts were a jumble, too intricate to disturb her slumber, hence why I turned to meditation for solace. Her touch persists, a soothing caress mapping the lines etched into my skin.

“How is your meditation progressing?” I scoff and don’t answer immediately, 

"Focus eludes me." I further the sentiment with a dry tone. “Though it is difficult to find focus with such distractions, your touch for instance.”

“Perhaps you should channel that focus and teach me.” 

Zeala is not a patient woman, and the notion of teaching her such a disciplined exercise as meditation draws genuine amusement from me.

"It might serve you well, considering your temper." 

A thousand images of Zeala in various states of anger flash through my thoughts, most of them linked to her role as our son's mother. Her fury rivals even that of my mother, rendering her a truly formidable force—one I have no desire to challenge. Yet, oddly enough, witnessing her in such moments has only heightened my admiration for her and intensified my attraction toward her. To witness the extent of her ferocity as she safeguards our son, my son, stirs something within me, a connection that's both difficult to explain and impossible to ignore.

“Are you saying I’m hot-headed?’

“Yes,” I respond bluntly.

“My temper is nothing compared to yours.” She counters, clearly not offended.

“If that is your belief...”

"My assertion isn't a mere opinion; it's a factual observation. Or have you forgotten the fate you bestowed upon Garyss?" 

Yes. That.

A snarl curls my lip as I recall the man who dared extort the mother of my son. 

The memory of his audacity, his touch on my Zeala, ignites a fire in me. The repugnant thought of his filth marring my mate lingers. The knowledge of his punishment fails to quell my rage, no matter the price he paid. My posture tightens and my fists clench.

I recalla vividly his fear and screams fueling a devious grin, a fate that was well deserved and yet was not brutal enough. Zeala is mostly right, and her observations are correct to a degree. 

"You're not entirely innocent in matters of retribution either. Both Savage and I bore witness to your fierce attack against that Twi'lek girl who dared to vie for my attention in your presence." It was quite the spectacle, a sight forever etched in my memory, to see her stake a claim over me. 

A shadowy chuckle brushes my ear, the sensation of the sharp edges of her sharp teeth following, accompanied by a sinister tone. 

“She won’t make such a mistake again.” Zeala asserting her possession of me in that wicked whisper, I cannot help but wonder if my declarations also ignite similar emotions within her. 

"Meditation might offer you the balance you seek." 

"Teach me, then. Your discipline might rub off on me." As her lips find my ear once more, her voice whispers, telling me to instruct her, one I struggle to resist.

The warmth of her lips, a tender touch that trails along my spine, resonates deeply within me. Her presence, her breath, her soft words, all contribute to a growing intimacy that beckons as much as it distracts. The very notion is unexpected, yet a part of me is intrigued by her willingness to explore this practice with me.

With a controlled exhalation, I slowly shift my head, just enough to acknowledge her presence and her request. Her bewitching violet eyes hold mine, and I find myself drawn into her gaze, those unusual depths that could drown me. 

I nod in agreement. It is then that I notice she has donned my black robe, wrapped in its darkness that contrasts the pallor of her perfect skin. The robe's oversized nature drapes around her like a luxurious blanket, covering her form yet hinting at the fact that she wears nothing else. The possessive thought that she's wearing only my robe is both alluring and intoxicating, deepening the connection between us in a way that stirs something primal within me.

She has done this on purpose.

As I narrow my gaze at her, a knowing smile tugs at her lips. She has taken a calculated step with her choice of attire, and she is fully aware of the effect it is having on me.

“Sit comfortably,”

She follows my instruction to sit, though not as I expected her to. Instead of mirroring my position and posture, she instead, positions herself in my lap, straddling me. It is an unconventional posture, one that defies tradition and expectation. Her hands find purchase on my shoulders, and her forehead presses against mine. Never before has such an intimate pose of meditation been assumed and for a moment I think she cannot be serious so I pose the question.

“Are you truly committed to this?” My tone is a dry mix of skepticism and curiosity, as I wonder if this is some kind of jest – and yet, a part of me hopes it is not. I follow up with a comment on her unique approach, stating, "Your approach is… unorthodox."

Yet, even as I speak, I cannot deny the undercurrent of affection in my words, nor how enjoyable I find this to be. 

I instruct her to focus on her breathing, to let go of the tension that clings to her form. As our breaths sync, her body relaxes against mine. Our breaths intermingle, drawing us into a shared rhythm, a connection that is both unusual and intriguing.

Her thumbs tracing soft patterns on my shoulders invite a question, a challenge. "Is that for my benefit or yours?" I ask, my voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

Her response is honest, confessing that touching me does indeed relax her, it comes as  a surprise to me. I find myself mirroring her gesture, my hands lightly stroking her lower back, the touch invoking a subtle shiver that courses through her.

Strange woman, indeed.

I resign myself to Zeala's unusual approach, adjusting her posture ever so slightly, as well as my own. I instruct her to clear her mind and to let go of thoughts of training, responsibilities, and all distractions. My voice is steady and commanding, a reflection of the leadership role I often inhabit. But in this private moment, it is different— I am guiding her, not as a Sith Lord or a Night Brother, but as a partner.

"Clear your mind," I remind her. "Aim for an absence of all stimuli." I watch her closely as she adjusts her position in my lap as if accommodating my teaching, her chest rises against mine as our breaths synchronize. My gaze narrows slightly, and I question whether she understands the reaction her body is going to prompt from mine. The tiniest curve to her lips tells me that she is fully aware.

I add a more challenging instruction, my voice lowering slightly. "Purge your mind of all desires." It is a test, a way to see if she truly understands the depth of focus that true meditation requires. The nature of our closeness is a distraction in itself, but I want to see if she's able to set aside even those desires in pursuit of the meditative state.

I continue, my voice a steady guide. "Let your body relax." It is a strange juxtaposition—guiding her in meditation while she's seated in my lap, both of us so close, yet striving for a state of mental detachment. It is a challenge, to the strength of her mind.

Amid the intimacy of our shared breaths and gentle touches, I guide her with a single word. "Breathe," I murmur, a directive that extends beyond the realm of meditation, a reminder to embrace the present moment.

Time unfolds with its rhythm, and our breaths intertwine as we share a moment of profound intimacy. I sense the currents of energy between us, a peculiar connection that reaches beyond the mere act of meditation. My mind begins to settle, finding a semblance of relief amidst the chaos that usually engulfs it. The weight of my responsibilities and the constant battles fade, if only for a fleeting moment.

Yet, this respite is short-lived as I detect a shift in Zeala's thoughts. I cannot read them as I would an open book, but the undercurrents of her consciousness are unmistakable. She is thinking of me. A fact that should be incongruous with the state of thoughtlessness this meditation aims to achieve. 

My eyes flicker open. Her presence, so near and enveloping, is both comforting and distracting, her curves pressed against my muscled torso. My irritation surfaces as I realize that the robe she procured from me, is slipping off her shoulders, leaving little to my imagination. I inwardly grumble at the situation, annoyance, and arousal swirling within me.

Despite my inner turmoil, she appears serene, her calm façade against my internal storm. I can sense her thoughts taking a more intimate direction, a current of desire and longing that courses through her, coming off in waves, she likely does not even realize she is doing it. 

It is a shift that puzzles me initially. Is she merely pretending? Yet, as I study her more closely, I come to realize that her calm is genuine, her thoughts unclouded by deception.

The peculiar absence of nothingness in her thoughts begins to have an unexpected effect on me. A sense of calm begins to wash over me. It is as if her serene thoughts are affecting me, transcending the boundaries of our physical closeness. 

The act of meditation between us has transformed into something different, something more profound. It's as though her tranquility is merging with my own, weaving an unspoken bond between us, transcending the confines of language and reason.

The space between us diminishes to nothing and her body is pressed against mine in ways that make concentrating or clearing my mind impossible. I can feel my body responding to her, my cock stirs and desire floods my veins.

"You are distracting." My voice is full of discontent. “This meditation is futile.” 

She suggests that if I would prefer solitude then she will leave me to my thoughts, her hands exerting a subtle push on my chest as if preparing to withdraw. In response, I grip her waist more firmly pulling her even closer, conveying without words that I want her right here with me.

Zeala's fingers embark on a delicate exploration, gliding from my shoulders down my arms and back up to my neck. The sensation is an odd mixture of pleasure and anticipation, a battle of conflicting emotions that I'm not entirely sure how to process. As her touch ventures upward, following the curve of my neck, it takes on a different quality, an almost tingling sensation that resonates through my core.

Peace and calm, which I had sought through meditation, begin to yield to something entirely different. Desire and longing gradually take their place, like tendrils curling around my thoughts. 

Her voice pierces the quiet, breaking the stillness like a gentle ripple in a pond. "Why can't you sleep?" I don't respond immediately, instead, I resort to a jest, attempting to lighten the weight of her question.

“My mate is sitting naked in my lap,” I reply dryly, my words carry a touch of amusement. Her presence, clad in my robe but barely held in place by her posture, is a distraction that I find both tantalizing and vexing. It makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

“Not naked,” she counters.

“Indeed, appropriate attire,” I remark, my tone sardonic as I take in the sight before me. The robe's precarious position on her form is testing my resolve. “Or lack thereof.” There's a subtle, reserved mockery in my voice, a tone I reserve solely for Zeala.

Her eyes open, meeting my gaze with a mischievous glint. “I thought you had mastered meditation,” she taunts, daring me with that enticing tone.

"Indeed, long before you were even aware of the concept," I remind her, a touch of pride underscores my words. But her next words are a tantalizing proposition, a daring challenge that holds a promise of testing my self-discipline. 

“Then you won’t mind a challenge.” 

She relaxes her posture completely, allowing the robe to slip from her shoulders, and it falls to the ground pooling around us, she has my full attention and she’s keenly aware of it. Astonishingly, I manage to maintain eye contact, despite the temptation presented by her actions. I have seen her naked a hundred times but the pull to touch her is as strong now as it was the first time.

“Witch.” 

"Your concentration leaves much to be desired.” She observes my struggles, and it’s clear she’s amused by my predicament. “Am I still distracting you, cyar’ika?” Her voice is akin to a purr and it sets my nerves aflame.

“Yes.” 

She is quick to remind me that she had offered to leave me to my thoughts, but I declined her offer. "Seems you're discontent no matter what the circumstances," she muses, her fingers continuing to trace gently following the lines etched into my skin.

"You will not be satisfied until you have driven me to the brink of madness." 

"My satisfaction has never been an issue where you are concerned." Zeala’s voice is a melodic murmur meant to excite me.

Just as I am about to unleash my words in a sharp retort, Zeala's gentle touch silences me like a spell. She traces the contours of my lips, "Stop thinking," She commands, the words resonate within me and her unexpected tone leaves me taken aback. It is a tone I have heard many times from her but I have never been on the receiving end of, one that allows no room for argument. Her command cuts through my defenses, and to my surprise, I am unable to hide it, compelled to obey.

She proposes that if finding solace in the absence of thought proves impossible, perhaps I should embrace the swirling currents of my mind instead.

I cannot help but scoff at her suggestion, a retort about the fundamental principles of meditation nearly escapes my lips. However, a glimmer of wisdom in her words gives me pause. 

"What are you thinking about?"

The impulse to remain guarded, to keep my vulnerabilities hidden, is strong, but I find the words escaping my lips. "You."

"Then concentrate on me," she instructs, her gaze unwavering. "My voice, my breath."

Unintentionally, defenses waiver, and my innermost thoughts spill forth as though I have no control over them. "Your scent..."

Without hesitation, Zeala acknowledges and embraces my unspoken desire. She tilts her head back exposing the hollow of her throat and I breathe deeply, allowing her scent to envelop me. "Yes, Maul."

It feels foolish as if I am succumbing to a spell woven by mere desires, not being able to resist the charms of a mere woman, all my years of training fail to serve me. I feel weak and I consider pulling away, to put distance between us and retreat into myself as I always have. I feel as though a dam is threatening to burst inside me and something primal demands to be set loose, and the lack of control terrifies me. I am not one to bow to urges, not one to be controlled by simplistic desires; I control the force around me, and I determine my fate. 

But then, I feel her hands gently touching me in a way I never knew could be pleasurable. I hear the soft cadence of her breathing, its steady rhythm, I feel her heart beating, a steady echo of life. I can smell her, sense her- my mate. Mine. My arms act of their own accord and wrap around her naked body pulling her to me and I lean into her, I begin to feel myself relaxing as my posture slowly begins to shift. I begin to feel the ease of calm that has eluded me for days and I surrender to her suggestion, allowing her to now guide me.

Zeala's hands continued to trace the intricate lines of my tattoos. The air around us seemed to grow lighter and cooler, and the weight of my thoughts slowly dissipates.

In that moment, what began as a lesson has transformed into something entirely different—a union of minds and souls, an intimate connection that transcends the boundaries of the physical world. In the firelit room, amidst the flickering torchlight and ancient stone walls, my mind still grapples with the unexpected calm that has settled upon me. 

Is this what people mean when they speak of soulmates?

She prompts me to reflect on the purpose of meditation, and I responded with the essence of my practice. 

"To achieve steadiness and focus, and calm,"

Her approval is conveyed in a subtle nod, and her touch moves up my neck—a soothing gesture that grounds me in the present moment. As her fingers dance across my skin, I feel a sense of tranquility settle within me, as if her presence is a tether to some unexplored realm.

“How do you feel?”

Drawing a breath, I follow her rhythm, allowing her to lead me further. "Steady," I murmur, a declaration that resonated with assurance. With each breath that follows, I traverse the landscape of my thoughts, acknowledging the truth that lies beneath. "Focused."

As I exhale, a sense of acceptance unfurls within me. The word I utter holds a quiet revelation, one that carries a sense of wonderment. "Calm," I confess, the syllable carrying the weight of an unfamiliar emotion. It is a state I rarely permit myself to embrace fully.

The progression of her touch continues, lips brushing against my skin as her fingers glide over my arms and up the sides of my face, stopping tantalizingly short of the base of my horns. It is a touch that's both soothing and maddeningly teasing. A low growl rumbles in my throat, a mixture of frustration and desire as I command: 

"More."

 The word hangs in the air, heavy with implication, as the boundaries of our meditation continue to blur.

She hesitates only long enough to make me crave more, then those cool, delicate fingers continue their journey along my crown, from the base of my horns to their very tips and back again. The sensation is electrifying, causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps and my body to shudder in response. The rhythmic motion sets off a series of reactions within me, from the erratic beat of my hearts to the hitch in my breath. I'm overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience, a mixture of pleasure and vulnerability.

Her fingers stroke the contours of my horns, and I find myself unable to control the grip of my hands on her hips. My fingers dig into her flesh, a mixture of desperation and desire fueling my actions, my body aches to become one with hers. My breathing, once steady and measured, becomes shallow and erratic. I find myself whispering a confession that I've kept buried within me. "Stay," I murmur, the words a quiet plea. "I– need you."

It is a confession that I am not accustomed to making and it catches me off guard. My life has been defined by pain, solitude, and the pursuit of power. The companionship that Zeala offers is both foreign and terrifying, a realm of emotions I have long been unaccustomed to, even feared. Yet, despite my resistance, I have come to recognize the significance of her presence in my life.

In the wake of my admission, Zeala's touch persists, her fingers weaving patterns of comfort and intrigue. 

Her words, tinged with playful observation, traced a path of revelation through my consciousness. "I like this meditation." She muses, her touch brushing my earlobe in a gentle caress that gives me chills.

Her words strike a chord within me, encapsulating the truth of our shared experience. What began as a simple attempt to find solace in meditation has transformed into an intimate connection, a unique communion of shared breaths and unspoken understanding. In her presence, I have discovered a new dimension of meditation—one that exists solely between us, an unspoken language of connection and serenity.

“It is too highly flawed to be effective.” I counter, sensing the internal dam straining against the pressure of my emotions. 

“You mean to tell me this doesn’t relax you?” Her voice carries genuine concern, she expects a different answer.

“No,” I growl in response, something hot and carnal burning beneath the surface and I have held it at bay long enough. "It is impossible to find a relaxed state of mind when my cock thickens and aches and every inch of my body demands your touch," My voice is thick with a potent blend of frustration and desire.

Without a moment's hesitation, my actions are resolute, and I crush her mouth against mine in a kiss that defies all inhibitions. In the early stages of my pursuit of Zeala, the concept of a kiss was foreign to me, shrouded in confusion and unfamiliarity. I struggled to discern its purpose, questioning the necessity of such an intimate gesture. At first, the notion of deriving pleasure from such an act eluded me, and I failed to recognize the subtle allure it possessed. My initial reaction was one of caution, even interpreting it as a form of aggression rather than a physical connection.

Under Zeala's alluring instruction, I gradually came to understand the depth and significance of a kiss. Through her guidance, I learned to not only appreciate its nuances but also to derive enjoyment from its intimate embrace. Over time, I honed my skills, mastering the art of the kiss and using it to stoke desire and kindle passion in my mate. With every brush of lips, I can elicit a breathless longing and a hunger for my touch, a mastery that occasionally grants me a strategic advantage, playing to my advantage in unexpected ways.

The kiss is a hungry and passionate exchange that goes beyond mere physical desire. It is a connection that transcends the boundaries of the material world. "Witch," I breathe against her lips, my voice is a low rumble infused with a blend of emotions. This term holds intricate layers of meaning—a fusion of adoration, a sense of being enchanted, and the profound recognition of the spell she casts over me.

My lips meet hers again and she offers no resistance when I seek entry with my tongue, she offers no resistance but embraces me, and her hands stroke their way up my chest. She’s pliable in my hands and I feel her sigh into my mouth with each soft stroke of my tongue against hers. Yet, I am not done. In a voice that is a mere whisper, a secret to be shared between us alone, I speak the words, 

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum," 

The Mando'a  proclamation of love that I seldom utter aloud. Her reaction is subtle, yet I catch it, and I feel it. A gentle inhale, so delicate and filled with fondness, escaping into a soft whimper. I have surprised her, the evidence in her firm embrace that draws me nearer, her grip tightened with an urgency that speaks of her emotions.

With those words, I let her in further, allowing her to witness the vulnerability that lay beneath the veneer of my strength. In her presence, I find acceptance, understanding, and the rare comfort of a companionship that has the power to heal even the deepest of my wounds. Her scent is all over me, she soothes me and her touch leaves me wanting her closer. It is almost unbearable how much I enjoy it. I feel drunk with want and I easily negotiate her into her back, she does not seem bothered by the cold stone floor, no matter either way, I will warm her should she chill.  

Her slender legs wrap around my waist, prompting a lazy thrust of my hips and I savor the sounds she elicits. My arms cage her against the floor. It lacks the comfort of the bed we share but it is too far a walk and my desire has reached its peak. I will have her here, right now. 

Never before has meditation left me in such a state; ravenous, hungry, half mad, and desperate. I want to hear her cry out my name, I want all of Dathomir to hear her sing for me. And sing she will. 

Her nails rake down my chest, the sensation stings at first then it just tickles, my patience with this woman is fractured and I want nothing more than to bury my cock inside her. To make her take all of me and feel her convulse in pleasure as I fuck her without quarter. I can smell her arousal now, her sweet perfume calls to me, and I can feel my mouth watering, whipping me up into a frenzy, and my control splinters further. 

Those clever fingers of hers reach down my chest offering teasing touches to my muscled body searching for my trousers and pulling at the remaining physical barrier between us. I growl like a wild beast when her hand slips inside and grasps my cock, her thumb stroking the hard ridges in a way that makes my entire being falter. A breath claws its way from my lungs and I break our kiss. Physical intimacy has not been a factor in my life, not until I met Zeala but she was quick to school me in the exquisite art of release. 

My breaths are shallow and I try to steady myself to gain an iota of control but she has a game she likes to play, to see how quickly she can bring me to orgasm. In this regard she is the more talented of us both, and she is doing it now. Alternating between softly and firmly stroking my cock, teasing the ridges and her thumb works circles over my head, swirling about the evidence of my desire for her. The sensations are maddening and they are made worse when I feel her lips and tongue graze my nipple. I snarl as my hips thrust into her skilled hand, her touch is fire upon my skin and I need more of it. 

Kriff, this woman. 

I let her have her fun for a few moments but as the seconds slip by I can almost taste her in the air, but it’s not enough, I need to savor her. Need to make her shudder and writhe against me, to make her crave the pleasure that only I can give her. No one can know her as I can. No one can touch her as I can. My grasp is strong yet gentle, as I take her jaw in my hand, conveying a desire to hold her attention. I tilt her face towards mine, wanting to lock eyes with her, to delve into the depths of her gaze, and for a moment, make our connection irrefutably clear.

I stroke her lower lip and the coy minx she is, sets her teeth upon me, her tongue darts out to lick my thumb before sucking softly. 

I demand her to open her lips to me and she does with an abandon that sets my body aflame. I drink deeply of her lips before moving down her body to what it is I truly want. The softness of her breasts is too tempting for me to ignore them any longer, she moans at feeling my teeth nipping and pulling with just enough pressure for it to almost hurt. She thrives off the fine line between pleasure and pain and the revelation first stunned me. I alternate between the harshness of teeth and the soothing strokes of my tongue and lips against her nipples and her body writhes and jolts whenever I do. If I play my hand right I will have her coming undone just from my current ministrations. As time goes on the more sensitive she becomes, a trait I relish using to my advantage. Until she whimpers and she can’t control how she writhes against me, the slightest breath on her skin will send her flying higher than any narcotic could ever hope to achieve. 

As I make my way down her body, my tongue dips into her navel, I can see her breathing is slow and steady but I can feel her body beginning to tense. My breath teases her where I know she wants me most. The warmth of my mouth, the sensual strokes of my tongue, she’s thrumming with need. 

“Test my concentration, will you? Let us see how you fare.” 

Her body opens to me with little provocation and I can feel my lust surge up, demanding I take, and so I do. Her breasts rise in a deep breath which she struggles to conceal as I enjoy her. Although I required guidance on the act of kissing, kissing her this intimately came naturally to me, and I needed little guidance. Slow, leisurely strokes of my tongue against her cunt have her keening against me, her scent permeates the air. I devour her like she’s a treat, and she is. A sweet delicacy only for my enjoyment. Her legs tremble slightly with want as I purposely avoid her clit, I can be cruel sometimes wanting to see how far I can push her till she begs me for exactly what she wants. 

My witch seems to think she can wordlessly coerce me into submitting by gently touching the base of my horns once more. She pushes herself up on her elbows and her reach is extended, I can feel her eyes on me. Her fingers stroke my crown with more assertion, aiming for a less delicate approach and I feel its effects immediately. The tremors that race throughout my body and my cock twitches with need, my zabrack physiology works against me now.

A growl rumbles deep within me as I harness the power of the Forces symphony of unseen energies bending to my command. With a purposeful gesture, I direct these cosmic currents, orchestrating their unseen embrace. Her form, once upright, yields to my unseen will, her arms gently pinned above her head, surrendering to my influence. 

I sense her strength, a formidable energy that dances within her, yet my connection to the vast cosmic web is more refined, more potent. I see the spark in her eyes, the intrigue of relinquishing control, of being enveloped in the inescapable grasp of my touch. It's a dance we share, a unique understanding that only she and I comprehend.

Sly amusement curls the corner of my mouth, a private expression meant solely for Zeala's gaze. In this moment, our connection pulses with unspoken understanding, a dance of power and desire, a mesmerizing duet between two souls who share something rare and exhilarating.

My hands wrap around her soft thighs giving her no means of escaping me. Only when she is at my mercy do I truly enjoy her, my lips, tongue, and occasionally my teeth tease her, coaxing more and more labored breathing from her. Her breathing transforms before my ears, a subtle shift that reveals to me her internal struggle. From the initial composed, practiced breaths, a hint of excitement and anticipation creeps in, causing a mild acceleration. But I don’t stop there; as my intimate kiss deepens, her mews and whimpers are laden with an undeniable urgency, a manifestation of her desire that resonates powerfully in the air. Her rhythm is now a symphony of need, a melody of longing. Such sweet sounds and I relish each one. Truly, I know her body so well that I could have her coming apart for me within seconds but drawing it out like this is so much more enjoyable. I have always taken my time in this act, and I will not be rushed.

The first time she cried my name in desperation, I felt a rush that nearly overwhelmed my senses. Hearing her voice, pleading for my touch, was a sensation beyond anything I could have imagined. More powerful than any Force ability I have ever utilized. The words she uttered, so filled with need, were a revelation I had not anticipated—nor had I foreseen the intensity of my craving to hear them again. It is a sensation as exhilarating as any battle won and as sweet as victory itself, yet still, nothing quite compares.

I can feel her body tighten as I stroke her warmth with a single finger, then another joins it and another. I want her ready for me, although judging by how she soaks my hand and quenches my thirst, it won’t take much to ensure she takes me effortlessly. The dual stimulation drives her harder and faster toward her peak. She continues to make sweet sounds for me and they grow in need.

I can feel when she is reaching that delicious crest, ready to tip over and I know a hundred ways in which to make her fall. She pulls at the invisible bonds that hold her down as I lap at her throbbing clit with featherlight strokes, my tongue over each growing more firm and my slicked fingers continue stroking and curling inside her until I hear it. 

My name.

She’s full of desperation and there’s a need in her voice as her body is wracked with pleasure. Her hips twist and turn, her body shudders against the onslaught that is my kiss and while I slow my assault, I do not stop. 

I can’t. The way she cries; “Yes, yes, yes!”  And the most sinful of her cries, a fragile and wanton “Please…” I need to taste her more until she’s spent, I don’t know why, but I relish in this power. A power over her body, to bestow endless pleasure instead of pain to know how and where to touch her. To see her revel in the throws of an orgasm while simultaneously almost unable to handle its intensity. 

It is a cruelty that as pleasure envelopes her, her body becomes more and more sensitive to the extent that pleasure merges and becomes one with pain. Were it within the scope of my control, it would not be that way, I would never see her in any discomfort… but I know she can take a little more.

So I push her as the waves traverse her body and she writhes against my mouth a slave to my hunger, but my only whim is to see her come fully undone again before I seek my release. It happens so quickly, it always does. It takes so little, such a light touch to her already aching and sensitive clit and she’s coming again, her lips part in a wordless cry. Her hips and back tries to arch off the ground but she is still trapped by my will, unable to move unless I permit it. She curses in our shared tongue of Mando’a, and says all manner of things meant to excite me and they all do. She cries for me to never stop but the trembling in her voice tells me she is struggling with the endless waves of pleasure and begs me to fuck her. Were I less of a man, I might have lost myself then and there to the erotic display, my mate, my Zeala lost in the throes of passion, pleasure and sex. 

I release her quivering flesh from my mouth, relinquishing my hold over her, returning her freedom to her, and she’s quick to rise and return to my lap, forcing her tongue into my mouth. She overwhelms me with her aggression and it stirs something in me, knowing she isn’t yet sated and she won’t be until she feels my cock sheathed inside her body. Until I’ve marked her with my seed, I hurriedly work the trousers off my hips just enough that I can take her. There’s time later for there to be nothing at all between us but right now I ache for her, I need to feel her engulf me and feel her walls welcome my stiff cock. Need to be safe within her warmth and presence. I feel only need.

Her hands stroke the ridges on my cock once more and I heave in several short breaths, I hiss at her touch, her eyes bore into mine and I am falling into an abyss as she sinks onto my cock. The breath is pulled from my lungs and her mouth is on mine. She licks at the remnants of her release lingering on my tongue. Clutching onto me as though if she doesn’t I will fade from her grasp. Her walls grip me and I struggle to remember how to breathe. It’s always like this no matter how hard, or how many times I have her, it is as though she was made for only me. Perhaps fate has chosen to be kinder to me now, to give me such a woman. 

For a moment we are motionless, there is only the sound of our breathing and the feel of her lips against mine. Her nails dig into my shoulders and the sting is perfect, her thighs squeeze my legs with each slow and lazy thrust as I begin to move. Her lips part and tremble as she arches her back against me and I gain control of my breathing once more, I can never tire of this, never. Not of this act, not of this woman, the stars would burn out into nothingness first. And it is Zeala who breaks our intimate silence with a command that I can’t ignore. 

“More.”

I don’t even bother acknowledging her request with a nod or an answer, I only obey a slave to desire. I have to shift our position slightly but once I do I withdraw from her and thrust back up. I grit my teeth at the sensation, the heat of her body, the slickness that coats my cock, and how she squeezes me exquisitely. 

My thrusts are slow and deep at first, I need to savor each time her walls clench around me. I need to know she’s as lost in pleasure as I am. She utters my name again with greater urgency. This woman wants me. I’m a monster but I am her monster.

“You’re holding back… don’t.” She clings to me and she forces her tongue into my mouth. I accept it greedily, but I maintain my relaxed pace despite how I know she wants me. “Maul! Please…” She’s insatiable, she craves a faster pace and a harder one. Who am I to deny her what she desires?

I will rip apart the fabric of reality if it offends her so, I will tear down civilizations and erase entire cultures of the annals of history should she ask it of me. 

Her fingers weave through my horns with a touch that sends pure electricity through my body and I thrust harder, faster. I can hear my grunts match hers each time I impale her on my cock. She trembles as my hard ridges stroke places in her no other man has, or ever will reach. I wonder if this was what she intended from the moment she crawled into my lap, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest right now. 

I cannot manage words, only groans and growls, noises more akin to a wild beast but right now I am such a creature. Her hands on my chest cause me to slow my pace and I relent slightly, uncertain as to what she wants. She pushes me down, flat on my back and my legs straighten from the cramped position I was sitting in, a feral sound claws past my lips when she sinks into my cock and I am lost in the pleasure of my mate’s heat and her scent. The steady rock of her hips against mine racks my body with tremors as she rides me, ‘Sweet Mother’. I allow my eyes to close and the sensations to course through me, my chest heaves in a breath as my cock throbs each time she slides upon it, impaling herself. It is good, so good I cannot be bothered to think of anything else. There is no Dathomir, no galaxy, no Force, no Jedi, no Sith, nothing. There is only Zeala and I.

I force my eyes open, feeling drunk, and the room blurs and spins. Everything is out of focus, save for Zeala. Rocking herself on my cock, her hands stroking her breasts, using my body for her pleasure and only for hers. She grips me like a vice and I am powerless, truly powerless as she brings herself closer to another orgasm, I can only watch as this creature who makes my blood burn and my hearts thunder, fucks herself. Every inch of her is mine and no other man will ever see her or touch her, it incites a powerful shockwave through my body and I can feel the rush of my impending release. I can do nothing to stop it and I don’t care to. My breath comes in short gasps and I growl as those white hit waves lap at me, threatening to drown me in electric shockwaves. 

Zeala slows her rocking and is quick to climb off my cock but before I can voice my displeasure; her mouth, her perfectly wicked mouth and tongue lavish my cock with attention. Her tongue licks up and down my length before swallowing me. I can feel the back of her throat brushing my head, it is perfect and something primal in me wants to see her swallow every drop of my seed I can give her. Stars this woman, then she does!

I howl as I spill into her mouth and like a hungry animal she swallows me, all I have to give. My muscles burn and my fists clench as my body eagerly greets the crest that is pulling me under. I growl her name and for a moment, I am lost to it all.

I feel everything, my body pulses in time and my skin tingles from the tips of my horns to my toes, and at that moment there is no greater pleasure, no force more powerful than this feeling barreling through my chest. 

Is it moments or seconds in which my senses return to me? I am not certain, but as I come back down, my hands shake and I see my mate, Zeala, the mother of my son, mine in all the stars. Lavishing the sweetest of kitten licks on my cock, and each one sends a jolt through me, sweeter than the last. I manage to choke out her name and her eyes meet mine. A devious look flashes in those violet pools and she soothes the hard ridges of my cock with her lips and tongue before stopping.

My physiology differs from hers in that I am not nearly as sensitive to pain and overstimulation as she is, but as it subsides, my cock is hard and I am ready to take her again. 

“Such a greedy thing you are, swallowing my cum. I think it is time to take you properly...” I growl. She dips her head back down and continues to swallow my length again, and I feel as though I can breathe fire. “Cyar’ika…!”

It is with some effort that I disentangle our bodies once and she hesitantly relinquishes my cock. I ache and throb from her talented mouth, but I want to bury myself inside her again. 

The firelight flickers as I put her on her back and take her mouth while I tease and stroke her body. She leans into my touch and she hungers for more so I oblige her. 

My fingers stroke through her folds, shuddering at the overwhelming slickness I find there. She moans into my mouth as my thumb finds that delicate little spot, that all-encompassing bundle of nerves, stoking a fire between her legs once more. I swallow her sounds, feeding off the raw desire, it spurs me on, an addiction unlike anything I’ve ever known before. One of her legs wraps around my waist and attempts to pull me forward but I shake my head at her and tell her:

“Stay still. I want to watch you tremble before me again.”

My mouth claims hers again and to my surprise she obeys me, her eyes close and she lies still while I continue to touch her. The softest touches, the ones that I know set her skin ablaze, they make her crave more and she whimpers as my lips enclose a nipple coaxing it to a hardened state. Her noises grow louder, little sighs and gasps, such lovely sounds. 

I can feel her body tighten with each stroke over her silky clit, her back arches pushing those perfect breasts closer to my mouth for me to taste at my leisure. She can barely say my name, but she does say it, a choked sob as another orgasm overtakes her. She is becoming more sensitive and stars help me. I love it. 

I can feel her trembling as the crest subsides and she’s trying so hard to take what I’m giving her but she’s losing the battle. I can feel her body beginning to shake, she will cry tears and pass out from the sensations before she asks me to stop. Stubborn woman. The way her blush colors her pale skin is radiant and I slow my assault on her body and withdraw my fingers bringing them to my mouth while she catches her breath. 

We exchange no further words, I know what she wants. I want it too. 

Our shared kiss is deeper now, a meeting and melding of souls, hungry for the presence of the other. 

She rises on her knees to join me and I turn her so that her back is nestled against my chest, her arm curls around my neck, keeping me close enough that she can kiss me, and I, her. My arm wraps around her hip and I drive up between her spread legs, she greets my cock with a deep groan of satisfaction. My face is buried in the crook of her neck breathing her in, I hear her breathing, I feel her heartbeat, and I feel her walls strangle me. She is almost part of me like this, it is too perfect, and neither of us will last long in this position.

My thrusts are slower and deeper, our pace more relaxed and leisurely. A luscious pur escapes her lips when I begin pushing her back to another orgasm, her legs tremble slightly at my teasing touch as my fingers ghost over her thighs. 

I am a selfish man at heart, I want what I want and nothing will stop me from attaining what it is that I desire, and right now I desire to see Zeala come over my cock. To feel her thrash against me, so lost in the throes of passion that I see into her very soul. 

Her soft whimpers send bolts of lightning down my spine and straight to my cock, she grips me like a vice and my senses are flooded with sensation after sensation, nothing is more powerful than what is happening between us. The Force itself pales in comparison to the energy that exists here in this room. 

She grips the back of my neck and her fingers brush against the base of my horns and it spurs me to increase my pace. My arms wrap around her now, needing her as close to me as possible, needing to feel every inch of her against me.

I fuck her hard now with wild abandon, she pleads with me to take her harder, to mark her with bruises that she will wear as proud badges, she wants the galaxy to know who she belongs to. 

Me. 

My body throbs in time with the very heartbeat of the universe, every nerve is alight, and every muscle aches from this exquisite dance. I cannot hold out much longer, her nails sink into my skin searing tiny crescents into my flesh and her tongue teases my lips in a kiss that burns hotter than any lightsaber.

She bites at my lower lip and growls at me, growls. She struggles to speak but tells me she is going to cum again, and she wants to feel me cum with her. She begs me to. How can I deny this creature when she pleads so sweetly? 

I cannot. 

I tell her with a single command, one I know she will obey “Come.” and she does! Her exquisite pleasure pushes me further and I roar as my release comes, my hot seed fills her body as we are joined in this. Her walls flutter around my cock, milking every drop. Dathomir itself seems to shake as our bodies tremble together, dissolving into pleasure. It is almost overwhelming once more, my thrusts finally slow and I feel more sated and at peace than I have in a while.

It is most certainly due to Zeala, coming in my hand has never given me the satisfaction I feel with her in my arms, clinging to me as though she cannot stand, though perhaps she cannot. Her heart beats wildly and her breathing slows as we remain tethered together for a few moments more, lost in the afterhaze of our passions. 

“Now, I am tired,” 

I grumble into her neck, as my cock slips from her body, finally feeling the sweet call of sleep. Although my muscles burn from our held position I would not trade this experience, nor any time Zeala and I have sought pleasure together. I will suffer through the stiff and sore muscles  I’m and I will deal with them when morning comes, each throb of pain will serve as a reminder of the exquisite pleasure we shared here. And every time my body cries out in discomfort I will hear only her cries and her moans. She rests against my body and it is clear that I have tired my mate properly, her labored breathing is evident enough of that and it brings an accomplished smile to my face. Once I am able to rise to my feet and I cradle Zeala in my arms as I do. She is her most desirable now, her most beautiful, completely fucked and satisfied basking in the afterglow.

It is time to return to our bed. Even though I am able to sleep anywhere, I yearn for our bed, to feel her sleeping bare against me. And while I feel no such concept as shame or embarrassment over my naked body, I desire the privacy our room affords us that I may enjoy her warmth again. 

The sheets are cool to the touch and as soon as my body rests comfortably with Zeala wrapped around me, my eyes feel heavy. Tomorrow Dathomir awaits us, but right now, I am safe with her in my arms and I feel I am finally able to sleep.

___

Wow, this was only 10k words which is like my shortest one shot to date... Guess there's hope for me after all. I am gradually working my way through my WIPs and I'm so happy to see this one done as I wrote it for a friend and I wasn't really much of a Darth Maul fangirl but I certainly am now! How did I do guys? Did you like Zeala? What do you think about a story from Mauls perspective? I personally really enjyoed writing it and maybe I'll do more with the male characters POV stories. Smutty one shot from Obi-wans POV? I would love to know what goes through that mans head while he's getting head... Sorry! Kinda spaced out for a minute! Let me know what you think! Reblog, comment and like and I will see yo uin the next one, bye!

[eykismyfav]

Star Wars One Shots

Important Note: I will write fluff and angst but no smut or self harm I’m just not comfortable writing it.

Request Are Open

Prompt List

General Masterlist

❤️‍🩹- Angst, 💕-Fluff, 💔- Self Doubt/ Insecurity

People I Write For -

Prequels

Obi-Wan Kenobi 

Another Pathetic Life Form on Tatooine  Obi-Wan Kenobi x Force Sensitive!Child!reader 💕

Qui-Gon Jinn

Anakin Skywalker 

Padmé Amidala

Darth Maul

Owen Lars ( I said what I said I want to write for him..)

The Clone Wars

Captain Rex

Don’t Let this End Here Captain Rex x Jedi!reader ❤️‍🩹 💕

Fives

Jesse

Kix

Worse Than the General Clone Trooper Kix x Jedi!reader 💕

Ahsoka Tano

Echo

Kit Fisto

The Bad Batch

Hunter

Wrecker

Tech 

Crosshair

Omega (Platonic only for obvious reasons.)

Original Trilogy 

Han Solo

Leia Organa

Luke Skywalker

Miscellaneous Characters

Boba Fett

Mando

(I have not watch all the sequels so I’m not gonna write for them.)

[s-c-g-s-c-g]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Darth Maul Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Maul, Mace Windu Additional Tags: Jedi Maul (Star Wars), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jedi as Found Family (Star Wars), Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padawan Maul, Padawans (Star Wars), Bickering, Jedi Order Respected, Space Pirates, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Protective Mace Windu, could be read as pre-slash, Minor Violence, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Little Shit, Darth Maul Being a Little Shit, Teenagers, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi Series: Part 2 of The More Things Change, Part 10 of Familial Star Wars One Shots Summary:

Obi-Wan Kenobi would like it to be known that nothing about the mission going wrong was his fault.

Honestly, if anyone was at fault it was probably Maul.

“I hope you know I blame you for this Kenobi.” The probably guilty party hissed from his side.

Or, padawans Obi-Wan Kenobi and Maul find themselves in the clutches of pirates.

[o-wise-corvid]

Relocation…

Was not going to be an extensive affair. Maul owned what he wore, his clothes, his lightsaber. And everything for little Melicent could fit in a bag. The lady herself was snug against his chest, tied in a makeshift sling he’d made from his heavier outer robe. He did need some new clothes. Something that didn’t scream “basically Jedi clothes but black”.

But he could worry about that once they reached the other side of the planet. The transport would take them to a factory sector, where Maul might even be able to find work of some kind. He couldn’t steal enough credits to live upon with his… his…

What was she to him? This little one… She called him “Papa”; Maul knew enough about how families were supposed to work to know that meant she saw him as her father. He… loved it when she said that word. Did he see her as his daughter? It was… hard to say. He was incredibly attached. Concerned over her. Cheered and enraptured of her. And Maul wanted her to stay. To be close.

Later though. Later.

The crowd on the transport was mostly made up of day-travelers. Working in the entertainment sector, they returned home to another. If all went well, Maul and the baby would slip in unnoticed and leave the same way.

He passed a hand over the baby’s curls and she gave a soft hum, nuzzling against his neck. Melicent had been quiet getting ready to leave and she was even more so now. Maul assumed it was due to the bustling atmosphere; it could be overwhelming.

They boarded, jostling through to a strap where Maul could hold to steady himself. Melicent whimpered a little, one tiny fist clutching at his tunic collar. Maul shifted to rest his cheek on her forehead and rubbed his hand over her back.

She felt… warm. Er. Still quite cool but, for her, the toddler’s flesh was burning up. Maul leaned back a little but Melicent hugged herself even tighter against him.

“Mm mm…”

“What is wrong, sweetheart?”

The transport throttled up and set along its trackway, the occupants shifting with the motion of the vehicle. Melicent gave a little whine of discomfort, thumping her head into the side of Maul’s neck.

And then she started to cry.

Maul shifted her around, worried he was somehow pinching her. But she clutched at him like her life depended on it and gave a few hiccuping gasp before wailing into his chest.

“Kriff… shut her up, will ya?”

A cold spike of anger sliced down Maul’s spine as he turned his head to find the owner of the voice. A human male scowled at him, eyeing Melicent as she mumbled “Papa,” in a pleading way that made Maul’s heart clutch in his chest.

“Shut your… your br…” The man’s eyes got wider as Maul moved just a hair closer.

Turning his eyes upon him, Maul reached out with the Force, amplifying his own presence. For a moment, to this quarrelsome, impudent, idiotic little cretin of a man, Maul was all the shadows in the transport looking at one. He was every fear and every worry the man had ever experienced. And death. Maul was death looming with yellow eyes… and this man had just insulted Death’s child.

D… death’s child?

“Sorry, mister, uh… sorry.”

But Maul had already forgotten him. His child? Was… was that how he saw her? It had flipped over in his head so naturally. So “of course”. He was still quite young. Twenty years that he could remember. Possibly two or three that he couldn’t. With a child?

Melicent coughed, hard, and a stream of yellowish mucus leaked out of her little nose. Maul wiped that away and then curled her a bit closer to himself. She needed a doctor. He knew nothing about treating illness. Injury, yes. But illness, he’d always been allowed and then forced to endure. He wouldn’t do that to this little one. No. Not… not his little one.

“Um… excuse me?”

Maul turned again, ready to glare whoever this was into the floor, but then he stopped. A Bessalisk looked down at him, her wide shoulders making two of Maul. “Couldn’t help seeing your little one has a bit of a cold. I’m on my way offworld but I have something for her. She’s Zabrak?”

“No. Human. As far as I can tell. But… colder.”

The Bessalisk’s large eyes sharpened. “Ah. Okay, still, this shouldn’t bother her. Twice a day, with food. Little thing needs fresh air… not the fumes of this place.”

“Thank you.” Maul studied the large figure a moment. “Why did you assist me?”

“Because of her,” she replied, one of her left hands coming up to gently rest on Melicent’s back. “You’re… not her real father, I take it.”

“No.” And Maul heard, in his own voice, the low current of sadness. Force, what was happening to him? He… he loved this little girl. So much… so quickly… He’d never loved anything or anyone before. It was… strange. But… but wonderful.

“Adopting a child isn’t something to be sniffed at Mr. Zabrak. I see so many near my home on Coruscant that are utterly without. But she has you.”

The Bessalisk patted Melicent’s back. “She got a name?”

“M-Melicent,” Maul replied softly.

“Oh. Oh that’s cute.” The large hand retreated. “My stop’s coming up. You and little Mel take care, now. I’m serious about somewhere with fresh air. Get off this cesspool as soon as you can.”

Then she hesitated and Maul felt the weight of one of the right hands settle on his shoulder. He flinched but she didn’t pull away. If anything, the presence of the touch grew less and less jarring. Something deep inside Maul’s soul seemed to warm, some locked away and closed off part that had perhaps never been seen to. He felt… small. But in a way that he didn’t mind, though he couldn’t say why exactly. “You’re doing a good thing. It’s gonna be okay. Good luck.” And she slapped a little packet of powder into his hand.

Maul nodded, stunned. “Y… you too.”

Melicent coughed again, whining but nuzzling hard into his neck when Maul shushed her. “Almost there. Then we can have a rest, yes?”

“Papa,” she croaked.

The transport docked for the final time some hours later and Maul waited for the other passengers to disembark. Melicent was coughing a lot, crying in a soft, constant little whimper next to his ear. She needed a warm bed, something to eat and whatever medicine the Bessalisk had given him.

Maul went to the first processing plant he saw. Scrap recycling. He could do that. Who couldn’t? The bored foreman looked Maul and Melicent up and down and handed Maul a keycard. “This’ll be your cubicle and clock-on card. Don’t lose it. Copies are 80 credits a pop. Cube number’s on the card. Childcare is complimentary. You start in two days. Rest up.”

And then Maul started the search for his cubicle in the towering, haphazard jumble of duracrete that rose up in staggered columns around the plant perimeter. Despite childcare being “complimentary”, he noticed many parents with their children on their backs in slings. That… bothered him. Though he couldn’t put an exact finger on why. If there was a free service… why weren’t people utilizing it?

Finally, cubicle 7790-A. It was small. But there was a refresher. A kitchen. Two beds instead of one. Linens, clean and ready. There were even work uniforms. Fresh clothes. Soap. Cooking utensils.

But first things first.

The powder packet had instructions: mix well with warm water, do not drink on an empty stomach. So Maul readied some of the formula and coaxed the girl to drink what amounted to half a cup. And then the medicine. She made a face and cried a little more. But then Melicent yawned and patted her own throat.

“Mm.” She crawled closer to him and leaned her head on his chest with a whispered “Papa.”

It was time for bed. Maul had made sure everyone was clean before the journey, so he helped himself to some of the fried crickets and dried Bantha flank he’d bought that morning and scrolled the news on his datapad, all the while having a little girl bury herself in his chest and stomach.

She was still a bit too warm. But Maul could sense a drop already. Rest and medicine, and… someday, they’d leave. This was no place to grow up for Maul’s daughter. The words bouncing in his head made Maul look down at her and pass his hand over her curls. His daughter. He would be raising her. And doing the best for her that he could. Making sure the air was clean was the least of the best.

“Papa?”

“Mhm?”

Melicent crawled her way up his chest, sneezing once, and then knocked her head into his chin before flipping down on his chest. “Mm.”

“Mm.”

[dinsverdika]

I've written this Mand'alor!Maul/reader smutty one shot a while ago. I guess I should put the AO3 link here. I'd type it but I don't know how to make it look fancy like people here do. Don't forget to check the tags!

[samantha-rae-velcher]

Master List Pt. 2

YouTubers

Swaggersouls

Streamers Dream - smut

Markiplier

Games of the many - smut

Joysticks and pushing buttons - smut

Sticks and stones - smut

That one look - smut

The punishment unforgotten - Violence/smut

A need for it and her - smut

The stress is real - fluff

"Im sorry, honey" - fluff

Roomies or More? (Egos) - smut

Yancy NSFW alphabet - smut

Love mistaken for hate (Wilford Warfstache) - fluff

Don't fear the reaper (Darkiplier) - smut

Dark lust (Darkiplier) - smut

Static (Darkiplier) - smut

Warp core breech Pt.1 (ISWM) - fluff

Warp core breech Pt.2 (ISWM) - fluff

Seeing Stars (ISWM) - fluff

Jacksepticeye

Blue tint and cold tiles - smut

Marvel

Me and the Devil walking side by side (Daredevil) - fluff

Sorcerer Supreme (Doctor Strange) - smut

More like Einstein (Tony Stark) - smut

Two tons of iron (Tony Stark) - smut

Green-ish (Bruce Banner) - smut

Tender Touch (Scott Lang) - smut

The speed of light (Pietro Maximoff) - fluff

Courts of Green Pt.1 (Bucky Barnes) - fluff

Courts of Green Pt.2 (Bucky Barnes) - fluff

Courts of Green Pt.3 (Bucky Barnes) - Violence/ fluff

Feathers and Swords (Clint Barton) - smut

Hawks gold (Clint Barton) - fluff

As beautiful as an angel (Yondu Udonta) - fluff

Fear makes love (Ronan the accuser) - smut

Sharp as steel (Wolverine) - smut

Blades that steel the heart (Wolverine) - fluff

Obviously not that obvious (Drax the Destroyer) - smut

DC

Tattoo Buddies (Chato Santana) - fluff

Soldier Boy (Rick Flag) - smut

Slice and dice (Captain boomerang) - smut

Scars and stripes (BOP Victor Zsasz) - smut

TWD

Guns of blazing love (Aaron) - smut

Maybe evil Maybe not But just about (Shane) - smut

Barbed Wire Pt.1 (Negan) - smut

Barbed Wire Pt.2 (Negan) - Smut

Barbed Wire Pt.3 (Negan) - Violence/fluff

Barbed Wire Pt.4 (Negan) - Violence/fluff

Barbed Wire Pt.5 (Negan) - smut

Barbed Wire Pt.6 (Negan) - Violence/fluff

Barbed Wire Pt.7 (Negan) - Violence/fluff

Barbed Wire Pt.8 (Negan) - fluff

Star Wars

The light within (Qui Gon Jinn) - fluff

The force of two (Qui Gon Jinn) - fluff

The force binds all (Obi Wan Kenobi) - smut

The intimidating side of things (Boba Fett) - smut

Orders (Poe Dameron) - angst/ fluff

Black ink (Darth Maul) - smut

The Witcher

How The Witcher men react when you cry - fluff

Bard and Bells (Jaskier) - fluff

Gotham

Gotham Villains teaching s/o to shoot a gun

Gotham Villains when s/o doesn't answer the phone

How Gotham Villains react to their s/o getting shot

Sexting with Oswald Cobblepot - smut

Gotham's King and Queen (Oswald Cobblepot) - angst

I will kill you (Oswald Cobblepot) - fluff

Emperor Penguin (Oswald Cobblepot) - smut

Smoking Roses Pt.1 (Victor Zsasz) - smut

Smoking Roses Pt.2 (Victor Zsasz)- smut

Tainted Riddle (Ed Nygma) - fluff

What am I? (Ed Nygma) - fluff/Violence

Five-O (Jim Gordon) - smut

Stalked (Jeremiah Valeska) - Violence/fluff

Fantastic Beasts

Blue fire and silver smoke (Gellert Grindelwald) - fluff

Heaven without fear (Credence Barebone) - smut

Boardwalk Empire

Gentleman with a dark side (Arnold Rothstein) - smut

[scribble-dribble-writes]

please make a masterlist I’m begging 🙏

Haha this is my first attempt at making a masterlist, so hope this helps!

I've attached the link to my A03 because everything is consolidated there.

Masterlist

Everything I write is fluff, angst or sensual romance. No smut.

Obiwan

Everything Obiwan - a collection on all the one shots I've written for him.

Conquered (on Hiatus) - a fantasy au with Obiwan as a Knight, Darth Maul as a warlord and the reader a Queen of a kingdom while being the last of her kind as a magical entity.

It's more Darth Maul x Reader but it wasn't getting any traction, so still debating if I should continue it or not.

Namor

Loveless (Completed) - a Namor x Shuri fic that picks off from where Wakanda Forever finishes. It also includes Attuma x Okoye and Everett Ross x Namora

The merman, the soldier and me - A one shot where reader is convinced she's in love with the winter soldier but that is only until she meets namor

Midnight Tides - just a late night cuddle by the beach wit Namor

Delirious - Namor x reader one shot request

Miguel O'hara

Miguel O'hara brain rot - A collection of one shots and requests I written for him so far.

General Hux

To save a mockingbird (on hiatus) - I began writing this story for Hux as a way to fix the sequels but then lost interest somewhere in the middle. I want to get back to it but haven't found time to finish it 😔

Ryan Ken

Plastic Hearts (completed) - a continuation for Ryan's Ken from where the movie leaves him. It's about chasing after dreams and becoming a self made person. Really had a lot of fun writing this one!

Buggy

The Sea Circus Captain (On going) - A buggy x mermaid female reader fic. You and him have a shared past but when you are taken away to be revealed as a lost mermaid princess to an island you never knew about, everything changes. Uses themes of second chance romance, longing, soulmates.

[facelesswoman666]

What’s Bad is so Good!

summary: The Lords of the Sith catch you masturbating✨

Smut 18+ minors DNI please.

These are all one shots, no plot just pure smut. you’re welcome bitches xo

otherwise enjoy! and please comment if or what you would like to see again.

Degradation warning ❗️ and the men being cocky as per usual 👏

GIF NOT MINE!

Maul

One knees was raised, and the other lay flatly on the mattress, beaded with lustful sweat. Her fingers caressed herself, down her skin and trailed gently over the curve of her hips and dip of her pelvis. She slid those two fingers, wet tipped by saliva down to her clit, circling gently, hungrily, as though a wanton woman were touching her body for her. This was not her, this was his doing, yet he watched her. Dark amber eyes, ringed with crimson that bore into her body, her skin. He longed to touch her, though he never expressed it, it made him hard. Pathetically hard “What is this my apprentice” he interrogated, clawed hands sliding over the walls of her room. The girl never froze, faltered or showed any sign of meekness, she pumped two soaked fingers in and out of herself whilst staring him dead in the eye. “Can’t speak” he tittered, smirking at the edges of his lips, reaching a finger down to stroke her smooth legs “Let me taste you, and i will render you more speechless than you appear to be presently my apprentice” The moan caught in her throat, what did he think he was offering.

Kylo

He had caught her, funny thing isn’t it, the inability to keep her fingers out of her lovely cotton panties. She was stretched, lying languidly on the table where he met with the commanders of the First order navy and militia. Whore. Her fingers weren’t visible to him but it was simple to hear that they were stolen away inside her, the wet squelching of them the least irritating thing about the whole situation. Ren had to deal with this, and quickly “You are a lady of the sith, not a whore” his modulated voice consumed the space in a minute, she giggled, intoxicated on vibrant lust and burning with internal desire. He stepped closer, fingers grazing her foot at the edge of the obsidian table and one swift movement dragged her down to meet his steel visor “if you wish to be a whore, then i would take great pleasure in filling your mouth and cleansing that dirty tongue” He pressed his hands to her hips and swivelled her round so that her face could hand off the edge and began rubbing his clothed self roughly against her mouth.

Darth Talon x masc!reader

The reinforced leather collided with his cheek, all left behind was a reddened slap mark across the left side of his face “Pathetic boy, toying with your parts while i am training to fight to protect you” she spat, leaving lines of milky white spittle near your eye. Her accent was silk to his ears, she had never been a native of ryloth but her accent carried through. She lifted her leg so that her thigh was level with his eyes and her other leg left standing on the black stone floor, she wore nothing but tight leather panties that draped leather from either side down to her ankles, she was mostly exposed “is this what you want?” she taunted, pulling her panties to the side in a slow seductive movement to reveal her pussy. He nearly salivated, in a whispering plea he begged her to let him taste it, fuck it, deeply and slowly. She turned away “learn to control yourself before you fuck the most wanted woman in the galaxy my apprentice” she stripped the leather drapery from her panties and her rounded red cheeks showed, black with tribal tattoos. She strode from the room and left him hungry, left his cock exposed and dripping with pre cum but she stayed, leaning against the door, teasing her nipples and pressing her breasts together as a small show. Her smirk faded as her footsteps receded down the hallway.

Vader

The girl was in complete silence, she hadn’t uttered a word since she decided to smuggle her way into Lord Vader’s personal TIE advanced fighter, after all being the head engineer on the specialised project aided in missions of this specific danger level. Oh gods, what had she gotten herself into, but there it was, his glove, his strong leather glove that smelt of amber and a clean smokey musk. She grasped it in her fingers, inhaled a strong breath and felt pleasure wrack her senses. Her spit soaked fingers trailed down her black wool tunic and into her pants, rubbing feverishly with pleasured panic, smelling every breath of him. She lay back and allowed herself to begin to look upon stars. “What are you doing in my ship?” a voice whispered in her ear, the tone so deliciously low, she uttered an unintelligible sentence, more or less a moan. He scooped up the stranger and pressed her ass to his lap, tipping her head back against his shoulder “let me take that from you, and let me see what is underneath this plain uniform” Lord Vader tore the trousers from her legs with ease, smiling under his mask, he had never been so satisfied with a finding. He pushed her knees back against his shoulders and one leather clad finger into her at a steady pace. Her pleasure became increasingly apparent as he fucked her with one finger “you are lucky i was merciful on you, sweet thing” She had not yet realised this reality was not a dream nor a vision.

[kimageddon]

This is an archive of my one shots, prompt challenges and requests. If you are looking for my two main series, A Prince of Dathomir or Sins of the Father, please check out my pinned post or my AO3 account.

Fanfiction for characters in the Star Wars Universe

Tech

Reader Edition - The Wedding | The Reception | The Honeymoon

OC edition - The Wedding | The Reception | The Honeymoon

Crosshair

Shoot Me Down

Couldn't Resist (NSFW)

Boba Fett

Impatient (NSFW)

The Witch's Familiar (possible series, Fantasy AU)

Masterlist - Coming Soon

Introductory Blurb

Comedic Series for the Star Wars characters and Universe - a cantina where all characters coalesce OOC, no timeline specifics

The Pants Challenge

Drinks

Prompt List - | - NSFW Prompt List - | - Who I write for

Ideas sent in via asks from the prompt list (CLOSED)

Clone Trooper Jesse

29: "I'm going to give you five seconds to take that back"

Cad Bane

34. “That’s it! I’m killing them all.” / “Wait, but what about the plan?” / “Forget the plan! These idiots keep getting on my nerves. They have no one to blame but themselves.”

31. "Good, I meant it to hurt."

ARC Trooper Fives

8. “I think I have found the cure for happiness.” / “What’s that?” / “Falling in love.”

Commander Wolffe

4. “But you…. You went drink for drink with Wolffe. How are you not hungover?” & 20. “You're so tiny compared to me.”

9. "“Have you lost your damn mind?!” / “Yes, but in all fairness, I was left alone.”

Clone Medic Kix

16. “You can’t die. Please don’t die.”

Clone Trooper Hardcase

1. "That was my favourite blaster.”

Commando Captain Gregor

23. “Don’t cry. We’ll find each other again.”

Sergeant Hunter

46. "Kiss me like you mean it."

Coruscant Guard Commander Fox

12. “Aaand just like that I have lost all the fucks I had to give.”

Lord Savage Opress

7. “I love you! No time to explain – gotta go.” / “Wait… WHAT?!” & 40. “I want to take you to all the beautiful places, sunsets over oceans and listen to the rain. I want to dance with you, make you smile and laugh… but– I also want to kiss you so hard it leaves marks on your body, I want to watch you writhe beneath me and scream my name until you can’t say anything else.”

Requests from DMs of Ko-Fi

Maul and Savage - They discuss the dichotomy of siblings

Comfort with Darth Maul - Maul x Reader

Captain Rex - On shoreleave he decides to visit the barbers

If you wish to be tagged in my fic posts or my art posts, join my tag list here.

[starwars-stories-annoymous]

A Kenobi Part 2

It had been a little over two years since Grogu had left with Luke. Two years since Din and the others found out your true identity. Y/n Kenobi. The daughter of a famous Jedi and a Mandolorian dutchess. You never knew your mother, just the stories your father told you growing up before he’d turn away with a defeated look. 

You remember one time, you had to have been about six or seven, you riffled through a box under your father’s bed. You discovered many things a few spare parts, a necklace, and a holopad. Your curiosity grew and you opened it. An image of a woman appeared. She was beautiful. She had short hair that resembled calm ocean waves. She looked regal in a gorgeous gown. She smiled and it met her eyes. You realized you had some of her features–could she be–your mother–

“Little Star, I’ve told you not to go through my things,” said your father. 

He reached the side of the bed you sat by and froze. He gazed sadly at the hologram. Your father approached you lightly hitting the button to turn it off. You placed it back where you found it. Your father wrapped his arms around you lifting you up in the air and plopping you on his bed. Kneeling in front of you he made direct eye contact. 

“Daddy, who was that?” 

“That was an old transmission from your mother.” 

“Oh,” your little voice said, “She’s pretty.” 

Your father chuckled softly, 

“Yes, she was.” 

“Daddy, did the empire take Mommy away?” 

“No, a bad man took her away.” 

That was all you knew of her. He didn’t even tell you her name. You found out who she was a few months prior to meeting Din. Satine Kyrze Dutchess of Mandalore. She ruled with peace and pacifism. And she was murdered by a sith named Darth Maul. 

You sighed pushing the thoughts of the mother you never knew to the back of your mind. Then you felt it. Felt the brush of the force. Something had been calling to you for a couple of weeks now. In that time Din had been gone for a solid week. He’d taken a few odd jobs to get some credits. He’d been more sentimental lately when he left you. You knew he worried about when he was gone. Since Grogu left he’d been more protective. Of course, he had to be, he promised to marry you. 

Currently, you were on Tatooine. The planet where you’d grown up. Where you and Luke Skywalker had met. You of course knew of him growing up. Your father worried about him constantly. Something you didn’t understand until you were older. 

Peli and her team of droids had been working on getting a new ship for Din. She’d somehow gotten her hands on a Nabooian N-1 Starfighter. You knew it was a fast ship, but you knew Din would have issues with it nonetheless, especially since it was a one-seater. You were going to have to stay behind more often. Or maybe you’d follow the force. 

All of a sudden you heard blaster shots. Peli must have been taking care of a pest again. You went out to investigate. 

“Come out come out wherever you are,” Peli said. 

She was investigating behind a box. She looked out at the droids noticing your presence. When suddenly she was dragged down to the ground.

“Oh, it’s got me! It’s chewing!” yelled Peli. 

You moved forward blaster in hand. But before you could shoot at it a blast hit directly. Your head whipped in the direction the blast had come from. Shiny armor met your vision. Din. You dropped your blaster and bolted over to Din. His arms opened wide for you. You ran straight into them. He lifted you off the ground. Leaning his forehead against yours for a kedblade kiss. 

“What an entrance,” said Peli, “ BD you good? Oh, good. Oh, boy.” 

“You alright Peli?” you asked. Breaking apart from you Mandalorian. 

“Fine, fine,” she said, “Look everyone it's Mando!” 

All the droids began leaving, knowing how Din felt about droids. A small giggle escaped you. 

“So, besides Y/n what do I owe the pleasure? I almost thought you were going to leave Y/n here.” 

“I got your message,” he said. 

“Message, what message?” asked Peli.

“You said you found me a replacement for the Razor Crest.”

Peli looked confused for a moment before answering, 

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s what I said. That’s what I do. I’ve been working my butt off. Did you bring the cash?” 

“It’s right here.” He placed them in Peli’s outstretched hand. 

After giving some orders to the droids Peli began leading the way to the ship. Din interlocked your hands squeezing tightly. She led you to shed where she’d been keeping the ship. 

“Ready to have your mind blown?” 

She pulled off the tarp. Revealing the not finished Nabooian Starfighter. 

“Where’s the Razor Crest?” 

“I never said I had a Razor Crest. I said I had a replacement for the Razor Crest.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Din said reaching for your hand again turning out to leave. 

“Hang on a second,” said Peli

“Din, just hear her out,” you whispered. 

“Do you have any idea what this is?” Peli asked. 

She continued to explain that N-1 Starfighter was made personally for the royal guard of Naboo by the Queen. After saying she’d give Din his money back she began to persuade, one of the things Peli did best. You felt that brush again. 

“At least let me put it together before you make up your mind.” 

That’s how you and Din ended up working on the ship together. It took awhile but she was finally done. Din took it for a test drive. Peli looked over at you.

“I guess the only thing I didn’t think about was you when picking out a ship for him.”

“It’s alright. I think I’ll have to go away for a little bit.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Something in the force is calling to me.” 

“The force?”

“Yeah.”

“He won’t take that well.” 

You sighed she was right. Din loved you more than anything and hated leaving you. You were all he had left. You went to pack up some of your things. You heard Peli talking to someone. You ignored it probably some customer. You heard the starfighter land. A sigh escaped you, it was now or never. You emerged from your room just as Peli said, 

“Oh, by the way, an old friend of yours dropped by, said she was looking for you.” 

“A friend of mine?” 

“ We don’t have very many friends,” you said. Your bag was slung over your shoulder. 

“Don’t worry. I told you I didn’t know where you were. Then I locked her out and engaged the hangar secruity system.” 

“She tell you her name?” asked Din.

“Fennec Shand.” 

Peli shrieked out of alarm. Scolding one of her droids she walked out of the hangar. You looked at Fennec who leaped down. 

“By any chance are you two looking for work?” she asked. 

“Could be,” said Din 

“The pay is good.” 

“What’s the bounty. We need muscle and a Jedi would be handy.” 

“Boba Fett.” 

“He would appreciate it.” 

Din looked at the credits then you and tossed them back to Fennec. 

“Tell him it’s on the house.” 

“But first we have to pay a visit to a little friend,” said Din. 

Din looked at you weaving your hands together. You pulled him away from prying ears. This wasn’t going to be easy. Once out of anyone’s earshot Din wrapped his arms around you bringing you in for another kedblade kiss. 

“Din I have to tell you something.” 

“Mesh’la it can wait when we leave.” “That’s the thing, I can’t come with you.”

“What? Cyar’ka if it’s because of Luke––”

“No, there’s something I have to take care of.” 

“What Cyare? 

“Something is calling out to me through the force.” 

“Cyare I don’t want to lose you, you’re all I have left.” 

“I’ll be alright.” 

“Where will you go?” 

“Something or someone on Chandrila.” 

“Cyar’ka I’m coming with you. “No, you help Fett. I have to do this alone. Besides,” you sigh, “I’ll take my saber with me.” 

Din looked aorund and reached his hands up to remove his helmet. Brown eyes met your eyes. Worry swirled in them. He didn’t like the idea of splitting up. He couldn’t protect you that way. He pulled something out of his utility belt. A commlink. 

“You call me if anything, and I mean anything goes wrong.” 

You wrapped your hand around the commlink threading your other hand in his hair,

“Okay.” 

He leaned his forehead against yours. Slowly he leaned forward capturing your lips with his. It was a soft, but needy kiss. You broke the kiss first looking at Din’s closed eyes. 

“I love you Din.” 

“And I, you Mesh’la.” 

“Say hit to Grogu for me.” 

“I will.” 

“Goodbye Din. I’ll come back to you I feel it in the force.” 

“Ret’urcye mhi ner kar’ta” (Goodbye my heart) 

You pulled yourself away and walked out of Peli’s shop. You didn’t turn back, you couldn’t. You’d run right back to him if you did. You found yourself on public transport. Your saber was hidden well in your bag. You looked out the window. A part of you knew where to start. Ossus. You were going to find Luke.

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: "Steps Into Shadow"

Everything is all shaken up for Season Three, let's go.

So I know I said I really like it when shows change up the Status Quo but...

Some of the changes took a bit of getting used to in Season Three. I'll admit it.

(It's the hair, Ezra's hair took getting used to, I believe my exact reaction was, "Nooooooo not the cute shaggy shonen protagonist hair!" I'm okay with it now and it's hella easier to draw but it was a bit of a mourning period.)

So! Season Three begins six months after the end of Season Two. Everyone has had a cosmetic upgrade. They're all older. Ezra is seventeen. *cries*

Ezra had his seventeenth birthday offscreen while he and Kanan were not on speaking terms.

*sobbing forever*

Anyway we open In Media Res with the Spectres (minus Kanan) pulling off a jailbreak.

Oh it is absolutely not a coincidence that our first sight of Ezra this season has him bathed in shadow.

Sabine and Ezra casually bantering mid-mission and Ezra being seamlessly badass. <3

That cute little fond smile of Ezra's when he sees Hondo. T_T

Ohhhh I remember when people were freaking out over just how casually Ezra shoots this Stormtrooper with a blaster very obviously not set to stun. It's such a contrast from "Stealth Strike" in which he promises not to hurt any of them. He's taken some parts of Maul's words to heart, sadly, and now he's acting like a proper soldier in a war.

Ouch.

Don't mind me appreciating Ezra and Sabine's brief battle tag-teaming moment here.

As if the Luke parallels were not strong enough, Ezra's new lightsaber--after a harrowing fight against Darth Vader in which he lost his other one--is green. And sue me, I love his green lightsaber, it's my favorite.

Also a big fan of how Ezra demolishes this whole hallway of Stormtroopers by himself. He doesn't even blink.

"Is that really Ezra?" "Most of the time." The meaning behind this exchange is ambiguous and there are plural interpretations. I think Sabine is referring to how utterly serious he is, no stopping, no delays, all-business. We only really saw him banter and smile with the others when on their way in, once the reinforcements arrived it was all go time.

It really isn't Ezra's fault that Terba got killed. But Ezra's Hero Complex, Guilt Complex, and sense of hyper-responsibility are all colliding and making him take the blame on himself for not having complete 100% control of the situation, also why he snaps at Hera later for griping about just that.

Never not gonna love Ezra as leader with Sabine as his competent lieutenant. <3

The Force Theme goes creepily off-tune here. This is NOT a Jedi Mind Trick. This is Force Dominate and yes, it is a Dark Side power.

This scene is deliberately uncomfortable. It's almost like possession, like Ezra using the AT-DP pilot like a meat puppet.

Sabine looking Very Concerned as she watches what Ezra does here. :)

There's just a moment where they hold on the shots of the AT-DP's legs and Ezra's feet, juuuuuuust to give you enough time to comprehend the horror.

"When did Kanan teach you that?" There's just a smidge of discomfort in Sabine's voice here, she knows full well that's not something normal.

Ezra's "I did what I had to do." here is a bit needlessly defensive, Hera didn't offer any commentary in judgement at all, he's just instinctively already verbally flinching about it because he knows it was wrong.

We can already see the effects of Malachor on Ezra, he's angrier than usual and bristles at Hera's criticism.

"Ah the fiery spirit of youth, eh?" "It's not all bad." Hera looks so SAD here. :( There's so much unspoken sorrow. You can hear a certain frustration and helplessness.

Cut to Ezra having the expected angst session in his room. The holocron, sensing his anger, lights up, making his cadet helmet (the one Sabine painted for him, that's supposed to represent a sense of safety) look creepily demonic.

"You can see things clearly your friends cannot." Ohhhhh you absolute bitch, that specific turn of phrase is meant to dig at Ezra's guilt over Kanan's blindness isn't it? Ezra even repeats it. "They can't see..." This scene here, his speech, is the lynchpin of his entire experiment with the Dark Side; his guilt over Malachor is eating him up and like Anakin before him he's resolved to never let it happen again. So he must become stronger, more powerful. His fear of further loss--his attachment--is leading him down the same dangerous path.

It hurts so good, it's such good angst.

THERE SHE IS, MY FAVORITE FABULOUS BITCH.

She's awful. I love her. <3

The entire crew being so Done with Hondo lol.

Heeeeeeey remember how I talked about how a large part of Rebels the show is how the Ghost crew in particular helps put the Alliance together piece by piece, ship by ship?

Yeah these are the Y-wings that take part in the Battle of Yavin.

Sato promoting Ezra, awwwww. The sheer respect these two have now. Sabine and Zeb are very happy for him and Hera says Kanan would be too and ow ow ow the lined hurt in Ezra's face when he points out that Kanan is never around anymore.

The man himself has grown a Sadness!Beard and is in such inner turmoil that it's woken the Bendu, whose voice we hear calling to him.

I really feel for Hera, trying to mediate between her two Jedi, who are both hurting and both avoiding each other, the frustration and anguish she must feel.

Perhaps nudged by her words Kanan does try to pay Ezra a visit to talk... aaaaaaaand immediately discovers the open holocron.

Ohhh this conversation hurts. Ezra's so angry and hurt by Kanan seemingly abandoning him and all Kanan can think about is protecting him from the holocron's influence and he must feel like such a failure as a teacher, especially when Ezra yells about how he doesn't need Kanan.

:((((

Rebels says vehicle registrations and tolls are tyranny lol.

Right so, mistake number one: Running instead of playing cool. The Alliance does have a small amount of funds and they could easily forge a ship registration. Give the Mining Guild fake credentials, pay the fee, and they could have bought enough time to deflect suspicion for an hour maybe.

Yeah the krykna aren't any less creepy.

Hi Bendu!

The Bendu is an interesting addition to the lore. He seems in the vein of the Mortis Gods, an ancient entity in tune with the Force, though the normal rules of such don't apply to him. He's a neutral party, possibly representative of the spirit of nature, which is neither Light nor Dark it just is. His True Neutral alignment would later be challenged by Kanan but for now he seems a helpful ally, offering to assist Kanan learn how to "see" through the Force. (I do like to joke that he's trying to get all the Force noise to calm down so he can go back to sleep.)

Mixed feelings on how Kanan's blindness is handled. Would have liked to see more of a recovery/coping arc, but a lot of the little subtle hints and nods they do in later episodes are really effective at showing how he's adapted. And then there are the odd moments where Rebels writers forget he's blind entirely. So there's some room for improvement.

Also he should have been allowed to make some blind jokes. DON'T @ ME THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN HILARIOUS.

Ezra: "No witnesses! 😠" Sabine: "Dude WTF?" Love how even though his Dark Side tendencies concern and worry her she's not afraid to push back at him.

Kanan assumes the "source of unbalance" he's carrying is the Sith holocron and confesses his fears that it's corrupting Ezra. The Bendu claims, "An object cannot make you good or evil.", explaining how it's one's mindset that determines that.

Which I mean, point, buuuuuuuut this is also a fictional universe in which the traces of Sith ghosts stuck in soul jars can literally possess you sooooo...

Anyway the scenes of Bendu teaching Kanan how to "see" through the Force are amazing. 10/10 no complaints. Will comment on things as I go just to point them out.

For starters, how about the panic and fear in Kanan when Bendu destroys the sensor beacon? And his angry hopeless, "I can't see anything! Not anymore."?

MEANWHILE WITH THE IMPERIAL DOOM SQUAD:

*ANGELIC CHORUS*

Hello my favorite blue bastard.

The first hint of Kallus's changed allegiance is here with this vaguely accusatory comment about civilian deaths outnumbering insurgent deaths at Batonn, which Thrawn was promoted for. Pryce calls them "acceptable margins". Timothy Zahn would later reveal in the first new canon Thrawn book that it was her who detonated the bombs that killed everyone. For the moment I will refrain from commenting on his concerning habit of retconing things to absolve Thrawn of anything bad ever and just respond with the appropriate amount of disgust at Pryce.

Always loved the cool effect where everything except Thrawn's red eyes fade out.

Mistake number two: Not calling Hera to tell her, "Hey the Empire is scrapping the bombers literally as we speak." and asking for advice. Hera probably would have consulted Sato and the combined brainpower could have come up with a better plan than "Charge in recklessly and scoop them up against orders without further observation or research."

Even Rex, who backs Ezra up later, thinks they should tell Hera about it first.

"That's an order!" Ouch, Ezra, that is the most insensitive thing you could have said to a former clone trooper.

Ezra's need for control over every possible variant situation (to prevent himself from suffering further loss) is actively making things worse for the mission, not better. He is showing a distinct lack of trust in the command structure, and an almost possessive need to keep his team safe and under his direction.

No one comments on his bossing them around though, not even Sabine, and into the maelstrom they go.

Hi Brom Titus!

Rex still showing a very slight deathseeker tendency.

Sabine's been taking notes from Hera on flying a ship with no power, clearly, lol.

This cue right here is going to come back later in the climax of the episode. The frantic rapid percussion definitely gives off the feel of "falling".

Love Melch feigning a malfunction he fits right in with Han "slight weapons malfunction" Solo lol.

Sabine sounds tired and exasperated when she points out the fighters won't have any fuel. I can only imagine the kind of impulsive, reckless, rash leadership decisions she's had to put up with from Dark Side Depression!Ezra for the past few months.

Rex is supportive tho. <3

Bendu going through Kanan's other senses methodically to help him relearn how to navigate. <3

Kanan foresensing the danger Ezra's going to be in from across the galaxy and freaking out about it. <3

I'll be honest I don't quite understand this philosophical mumbo-jumbo but whatever it works, Kanan's got his mojo back and is going to go get his padawan.

Ohhhhhh oh I know this cue right here has been used before, dammit where was it used before?

Hang on... I think it's Kanan's theme?

*goes back to check "Stealth Strike"* No, not there. Ugh, this is gonna bug me.

*checks YouTube* It IS Kanan's theme! Holy crap.

Sabine does not have a good time of it against this Dismantler droid. Zeb's prehensile feet save the day, though. Always love when they get to use those.

Worried Ezra be worried. <3

Ezra's strained "Oh shit it's mom." tone here lol.

Recall what I said back in "Fire Across The Galaxy" about how the Rebellion will always pull your fat out of the fire even if you've been stupid? Yeah.

Hera's face when she sees Kanan sitting in the co-pilot chair. <333333

Rex, ah... may not be all mentally here I think the Dismantler droid is bringing up some unpleasant memories.

The subtle symbolism continues!

This exchange is hilarious. "Yeah, get ready for another demotion." Lol Ezra.

Ezra considers the dilemma for half a second and then chooses violence. Mistake three.

Chopper pitches a fit about getting in a Y-wing. Given that he was shot down in one, that's understandable.

This fond smile and headshake at Hondo. <3

Mistake four, not checking to see if the Y-wings had hyperdrives before taking off.

Always love it when one of the kids uses Zeb's "Karabast!" He's a bad influence on them lol.

All of Ezra's previous bad decisions culminate here, he's stranded on a collapsing station, unable to contact help, and the last thing he heard from Sabine was that the Empire was there. It's not any wonder he's practically breaking down in tears.

"This is wrong, it's all gone wrong!" Well, that's what happens when you choose all the Dark Side options, Ezra. Should have kept a save point.

:((((((

Taylor's acting here is amazing, Ezra sounds SO lost and scared and desperate and he just wants Kanan to be there.

A bold and serious "Shenanigans" cue as Phoenix Group blazes in to the rescue. <3

And there's that cue that I told y'all would be coming back. :)

This sequence is perfection. Ezra clinging to the station as it falls, Hera flying with such microprecision she misses all the debris flaking off of it, the rushing wind, the music...

Ezra's shock when he hears Kanan's voice.

KANAN BATHED IN WHITE LIGHT REACHING OUT TO EZRA AS HE AND THE STATION PLUMMET INTO THE ABYSS.

THE RETURN OF THE ARC WORDS, "I'VE GOT YOU."

THE SOUND DROPPING OUT AS THE FORCE THEME PLAYS SOFTLY AND KANAN TELLS EZRA TO LET GO.

EZRA TRUSTING KANAN, LETTING GO, AND LETTING THE WIND CARRY HIM WITHIN REACH.

Cinematic poetry. <333333333

Hera smiled at first when Kanan told her he'd gotten Ezra buuuuut she's pissed now about the Phantom lol.

Pryce's shade at Konstantine, ha ha.

Thrawn sounded so disappointed too, almost sulky. "That's not the Rebel fleet!" 😠

Major "mom grounding her rebellious teenager" vibes. Love that Zeb and Sabine stick up for him.

Dodonna namedrop!

I know some people wanted a bit more out of Ezra's flirtations with the Dark Side but personally I think it's fitting that as soon as Kanan and Ezra bury the hatchet he never touches it again. The major impetus behind his running to the holocron was Kanan's distance from him, reinforcing all the self-negative beliefs Ezra had about the whole situation--that it was his fault Kanan was blind, that Kanan blamed him, that he wasn't a worthy student, that he couldn't rely on anyone but himself to get strong enough to protect the people he cared about, that he needed the holocron and the Dark Side to get that strength.

And you'll notice he doesn't quite swear off the thing entirely, he asks after it both here and in the beginning of the next episode, a bit like an addict antsy for their next fix.

(No, fandom, Kanan's "I'll always come back." here was not secret foreshadowing that the writers failed to follow up on in Season Four, it was a straightforward sentiment in the moment.)

This is a heartwarming sight. <3

This... is my favorite of the season premieres. For obvious reasons.

Once again the main strength is the focus on Kanan and Ezra's fractured relationship as it pieces back together. The action is tightly written and every single element serves its purpose. It's funny, dramatic, heartbreaking...

I don't really have any other words, this episode is just amazing.

[eomereadig]

Snippet: Nursemaid

Written for the prompt “reluctant caretaker” for @whumpril! This is also my final prompt!

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Darth Maul

Rating: T

Tags: sick fic, sick Obi-Wan Kenobi, care taker Maul, Obi-Wan Kenobi whump, kidnapping, but also humour, protective brother Savage, caretaking, sponge baths. pre relationship

Full fic now avaliable here

He’d been kidnapped - that much was obvious. Why he’d been given the luxury of a bed, though, was still a mystery to him. Obi-Wan desperately tried not to consider the darker implications of that fact, not wanting to reignite the panic that he was barely keeping at bay. 

The Jedi did his best to peer around the room, though he could see little lying as he was. Even as alert as he could be, Obi-Wan’s mind still felt slow and soupy, his vision blurred as he couldn’t rub his eyes. 

It certainly didn’t look like a prison cell. 

It looked more like… more like a bedroom. Albeit, barely used. There were personal items dotted around the utilitarian space - a black robe here, some mechanical equipment there, a belt slung somewhere else. Reason told Obi-Wan that there was good chance this was his captor’s bedroom. How amateur. Aside from that sickening thought in the back of his head again, Obi-Wan wasn’t able to ascertain much else. 

He reached out into the force, both to try and ground himself and get rid of this infernal headache but also to try and sense his captor - to see if they were close by. 

Only, any time he tried, the force seemed to slip through Obi-Wan’s fingers - there but wholly unable to grasp. 

Shit, the cuffs must have been force-suppressors. Perhaps his kidnapper wasn’t an amateur after all. Whoever they were, they likely understood the risks that came with capturing a Jedi - even if he was being kept in someone’s bedroom. 

With each small piece of information Obi-Wan gathered, things made less and less sense. 

Able to get glaringly little other than that from his environment, he cast his mind back to the last thing he remembered, instead. 

He had been on leave, he knew that much - checking out some of the local establishments on Alderaan that Bail had recommended along with some officers from the 212th. Unlike the clones, Obi-Wan hadn’t really been drinking. He had been feeling under the weather for the past few rotations, but after some persuasion from Waxer and Boil, had come along with them anyway. Cody would have been willing to stay behind and keep Obi-Wan company in his bunk room, perhaps play nursemaid a little, but the Jedi knew he would have much rather have been out with his men. 

And so, Obi-Wan had gone along. Needless to say, he was regretting that now. 

The last thing he remembered was leaving the first bar to head to the second on their mental lists - one that Bail apparently swore by. He’d been lagging behind the clones, his nausea and dizziness steadily growing the longer he was out. 

When Obi-Wan focused, he could recall the back of someone’s head - a yellow zabrak, he thought. Familiar… yet he couldn’t place where. All he knew was that something had niggled in the back of his mind and Obi-Wan had stumbled to follow them into an alley. 

After that, everything was blank. 

The zabrak in question was likely his kidnapper, then. 

That fact came with a host of pros and cons. On one hand, it was good as they were near human so wouldn’t accidently kill him (he hoped). They’d feed him the right things and would likely know how long he could go without water, for example. But then again, Obi-Wan had met enough zabraks to understand their less than savoury quirks. Avoiding angering them would be difficult, even if the Jedi gave it his best shot. They were instinct-driven and volatile by nature, unpredictable even with their strict sense of honour which rarely seemed to align with Obi-Wan’s own. They were similar in a lot of ways to the nomad Mandalorians he’d met, so Obi-Wan knew he’d have to keep his jokes and flirting to a minimum to avoid making his already precarious situation even worse. 

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and tried as best as he could to relax back onto the uncomfortable mattress. Even though he’d calmed himself, his head still pounded something fierce. 

What he wouldn’t have done for a glass of water…

[meshlasolus]

House Of Memories (36/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: angst, darth maul (again, a warning in himself)

Summary: After the death of Satine, it is up to the rebelled team of rogue Death Watch members to help Obi-Wan escape, but there's just one problem... you're with Darth Maul.

A/n: i don't like this, like, at all... it is 5 am and i have so much to do tomorrow and i hate myself for staying up but i gotta stay on the HoM grind bc it makes me feel like I have at least the smallest bit of control over my life... anyways enjoy this disaster of an episode i'm gonna go sleep through Independence Day

also y'all if you like the story, maybe consider buying me a coffee :)

Words: 1.8k (yes, i'm disappointed in myself)

Obi-Wan never made it to a cell, his transfer was vastly interrupted by a group of rouge Mandalorians. They wore blue and white armor, and though he did not understand the significance of those colors, he was able to identify them as the cult called death watch. He'd had several run ins with them before, although now they seemed to be running to his aid. It was a stark contrast from his usual interactions with the group. Last time, if he remembers correctly, he was being shot at by three members, dodging the blasts and trying to get Satine to cover. She was always a stubborn one, Satine. He supposed now she was gone he may find himself missing it.

Over anyone else, he felt the most guilt, as a heavy weight on his shoulders. It tried to crush him, along with his anxiousness over your current situation. Satine had been killed, and you'd been left, alone nonetheless, with his arch nemesis, Darth Maul. He thought he was headed straight for a cell, but this coincidental clash of Mandalorians was perhaps in his favor after all.

A girl wearing the Convor markings on her helmet flew over, and when she landed on the platform, taking out a guard and ripping Obi-Wan's lightsaber, it became clear to him they this was not just a brush of the death watch, but a ploy to get him out.

She ripped her helmet away, revealing short, flaming red hair. She held a certain confidence about her that reminded him of you. You were always very sure of yourself in battle. She looked vaguely familiar, like someone he'd met before, but couldn't place.

She approached him with a sway in her hips, her smirk appearing as she inspected the lightsaber.

"I don't believe we've met; you are?" he questioned, watching as she ignited the lightsaber and helped him out of the restraints that he'd been placed in.

"I am Bo-Katan, I'm here to rescue you," she told him, taking a jetpack from her ally and holding in up to him. "That's all you need to know."

"As long as I can get out of here."

Obi-Wan turned and allowed for her to attach it to the armor he was wearing, tilting over upon receiving the weight.

"Do you know how to use this?" She inquired, raising a brow. He seemed like he was going to fall out of the sky, although he would try his hardest.

"In this case, I'll be a fast learner."

They all moved to leave, but there was a detail he was still not quite clear on. He held his hand up to grab their attention, accompanied by his words.

"Wait, we cannot leave yet," he explained, and all helmets turned to face him. Bo-Katan was confused, obviously, but stopped to listen to his reasoning. She had wanted to be in and out, close to boarding a ship by now, but Kenobi had other plans.

"Why not?" She asked, annoyed at yet another stint in her original plan. Her hands mounted her hips, as she stood by for his answer. He knew he probably wouldn't receive any help, but he wasn't leaving this planet without the thing that mattered most to him in the whole galaxy.

"My Padawan is still being held hostage in the palace. I need to find her."

He heard several modulated sounding sighs of exasperation, and he could practically feel the eyes being rolled beneath the hiding space of the helmets around him. This was a very unpopular idea, but he wasn't going to budge on it, and he doubted they would just leave him to fend for himself, since they'd risked their own lives to save him only moments ago.

"If she's in the palace, then she's with Maul."

She was contemplating it, that was evident, but her decision was made slower than anticipated. She knew about some Jedi traditions. A Padawan learner to their Jedi Master was the complete priority. She could see just by the look in his eyes that this learner of his meant even more to him than most would.

"I will not leave without her," he said firmly, and it was now she understood the extent of his devoutness. This learner of his was the only thing that mattered to him, this she could clearly see.

"Then you must find her. We can only take you so far, and though we can have an escape prepared, but the rest is up to you."

He sighed in relief, nodding his head and readying a plan in the battlefield on his mind.

"I will do what I must."

-

"You're a consular," Maul seemed intrigued, by igniting the saber that had been plucked from you upon capture. "The force made living, the wisest among the Jedi."

You had not spoken a word to him since you'd been separated from your Master. You knew that the more you spoke, the more you fed him to feast on. Your mind would not be manipulated again, and you were convinced that he wouldn't be taking any sensitive or otherwise private information pertaining to you, or Obi-Wan.

"You were wiser when the darkness filled you," he paused, and upon seeing a quick flash of fear in your eyes he chuckled darkly, realizing he had hit a nerve, but he wouldn't stop until he had severed it. "Oh yes, I can sense it... buried inside of you like you are its tomb."

You moved your eyes to the ground, refusing to show him any emotion henceforth, because as most force sensitive beings could, he saw more than most people did in even the slightest expression you wore.

"You keep it in a grave as if it is dead, but you know it is not. It waits for you to let it arise, to let it take control. It desires to give you all you've ever wanted and more, if you should only choose to accept its power. I know you've let it consume you before, don't think I missed the lovely streak in your saber blade. The markings of a healed crystal... it means that before it was there, you bled it."

He held his hand up in a fist, pulling you towards him in one swift motion. Now you stood, inches away from the Zabrak Sith, awaiting his next move. You needed to find a way out of here, this had gone on far enough and you only wished to be in the presence of one being this instant.

"Such a pretty face," he said, tracing a finger over the bridge of your nose and down to your bottom lip. He parted your mouth while watching with a narrow-eyed grin. "I can feel that the mind sitting behind it is far more interesting."

His hand moved to the side of your head, and he closed his eyes.

This was it; this was your escape. It was a half thought out plan, with very little confidence that it could actually work, but like most things you did, you refused to hesitate, not even once, before enacting it.

You opened your mind to him, giving him everything, or at least, everything you wanted him to see. Everything about Obi-Wan and the relationship you had with him, all the small details and memories you could fit into your thoughts at once.

You let him focus and dwell on those things, being so deep inside your mind that he'd forgotten all about the saber that was now only loosely clenched in his other hand. You pulled it to your hand in a moment of confidence, tearing yourself from his hold, and leaping back into a battle-ready stance. You knew you were foolish for this, and having figured out he'd been fooled, he seemed indifferent. Perhaps you'd let him see too much, things that were supposed to be for your mind only.

"I suppose I killed the wrong woman today," he reasoned, not even reaching for his saber, or the dark saber for that matter. "It seems you are the one his affections lie with..."

"How do you know those thoughts weren't just my diversion?" you were certain you could perhaps fool him again, but he was not a child, nor was he as brainless as your normal enemies. He laughed darkly, and did not even consider your suggestion, for he knew it was false.

"Oh, what a shame... Kenobi's young love shall be my dark apprentice, it will be my greatest revenge," he announced, sitting back in his throne with a shake of his head. "I've seen in your mind, he watched you cross paths with the darkness before. The pain, and the fear in his eyes was undeniable. When he sees you standing by my side, enraptured by the darkness, it will obliterate him."

"As long as he lives, my path is set. Nothing can derail me from his teachings," you stood strong, hoping to make him realize there was absolutely nothing he could do to persuade you. You didn't realize the real horror of what you had done until it was too late.

You gave Maul the most precious outlet for his vengeance, without even meaning to. You gave him yours and Obi-Wan's relationship. Now, he knew what Kenobi held dearest to him, he knew what would cause him the most pain and suffering. You were the key to it all. Even if you'd managed to escape today, he would never quit, never stop until he's satisfied himself on account of the man he hated so much.

He would have given a reply, had the glass of the roof not broken above him, falling on the ground around him as the Death Watch rebels flew in. You were thankful for the distraction and started running away to let the scene play out. They shot at him in a random pattern, giving him no time to think as he did his best to deflect the shots. You had almost reached the doors when you were grabbed from behind and lifted into the air.

You weren't afraid of heights, more so of falling, and it made you cling to your master as he took you out of the palace a moment after.

"You're late," you remarked, trying to avoid looking at the ground. It seemed irrational, considering you'd flown so many times before, however you entertained the fact that this was far different, as one sudden move could send you hurdling towards the planet's surface.

"You'll have to forgive me; I was a bit tied up."

As you saw the other members of the Death Watch follow behind you, you realized this was a set intention. They were there to help rescue you.

"I'm not very fond of this planet," you commented, turning to see the ship that could lead you off of it. This was a planned escape, and you thanked the Maker that there would be no more bumps in the road. You could not wait to be drifting in the abyss of space once again, as long as it meant you would be out of harm's way.

Obi-Wan cracked a smile at your statement, for he had just been thinking something along the lines of it.

"Trust me, I know."

-

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