#to write and plot and chat on there !

[sceletaflores]

where there’s sparks, there’s fire!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.

—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.

word count: 4.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.

Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.

You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.

It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.

Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.

Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.” 

You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.

You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.

He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name. 

“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.

You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.

Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.” 

You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?” 

You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.

Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves. 

Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”

You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. 

You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.

Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts. 

Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”

You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose. 

His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.

Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.

"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."

You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.

Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.

You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup. 

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.

His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."

Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."

His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.

It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you. 

You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.

“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.

Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you. 

Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around. 

He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”

You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach. 

Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.” 

You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.

Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”

You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off. 

Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.

He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.

He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness. 

It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.

“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.

Yeah fucking right.

“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”

Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”

You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso. 

You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.

“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.

Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.

You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.

“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.

Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.

His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.

You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.

“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.

He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.

“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.

“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in.  You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”

“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”

Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.

He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass. 

The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock. 

You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.

Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.

He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.

You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts. 

The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks. 

Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door. 

“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.

He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted. 

Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.

You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.

Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.

arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???

tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!

[merakiui]

*DIGS YOU OUT FROM THE MUD* MOOOOOAR!!!! HDJSJSK once azul find out the secret behind his fave milk, floyd takes him out back and forces him to breed u to keep quiet and jade omg jad has the biggest balls and loves to put them on ur face aaaaaaa

AAAAAAAA YES YES YES OTL THANK YOU FOR DIGGING ME OUT.......... allow me to describe The Vision because I had more thoughts while I was trapped under the mud.

(cw: nsfw, female hucow reader, breeding, pregnancy, bull hybrid jade, lactation, there's really no plot here; just pure horny >_< )

✧ floyd has the biggest crush on you and it's so obvious, but he's not allowed to touch you because boring farm regulations and blah blah blah. >:( it wouldn't be good if another male's scent was on you when they're trying to pair you and jade together, and floyd thinks that's a stupid rule because you're his girl!!! he definitely doesn't follow it. maybe he promises to be good and pull out each time, maybe give you a bath to wash his scent off, just to keep things safe. he's so stupidly in love with you and it shows. orz his favorite thing to do is milk you because you make the cutest little sounds. he's painfully hard the entire time and he can't stop looking at your heavy tits, admiring the feel of them in his hands, or the way you tremble, your body alight with arousal. he's down so bad. he has to cap all of the bottles and stock them in the fridge first before he's going off to deal with his erection. T_T

✧ and jade......... he's a sly bastard. he knows floyd's in love with you (anyone could tell) and he takes every possible opportunity to stir up drama just for the fun of it. floyd threatens to send him off to the slaughterhouse if he keeps acting like an ass, but that's jade's specialty. <3 he just loves pressing you against the fence and rutting into you from behind, loves to drink straight from your tits, loves to fuck you in broad daylight so that everyone on the farm knows you're getting your guts rearranged by him. and floyd hates it! it's just not fair. why did they have to bring jade in? can't they just leave the breeding up to floyd? he'd gladly knock you up. but you and jade are so compatible and jade's so possessive of you, and the last time floyd tried to enter your pen he was swiftly kicked in the stomach. ;;;;;

✧ and azul!!!! he loves, loves, loves the milk from this farm. it's just so delicious; it's made the dishes at his restaurant taste even better than before. since he's an ambitious man, he originally visits the farm with the intention of purchasing whichever dairy cow is responsible for producing such high-quality milk just so he can get it straight from the source without having to go through the hoops of shipping and whatnot. but floyd's so evasive with answering his questions and as azul's leaving in a huff he passes the barn and spies you inside and...... now he needs you!!! he'll pay any price; he's desperate. floyd's dying inside because no one's supposed to know about you, but this loud-mouthed businessman knows and..... he allows azul to milk you so he can take a few bottles home for himself in exchange for his silence, and azul is so good at rizzing you that he ends up fucking you. and jade lets it happen because it's another fun way to watch floyd shrivel up and die. T_T he's so mean,,,,,

✧ and when you're pregnant, your milk production seems to double and you have to be milked multiple times a day because your tits get so heavy and full. floyd's living the dream, even more so when you weep and beg him to just fuck you already because you're soooo sensitive and soooo horny and you desperately need to be filled with cock; and jade's busy napping, so he can't do it. floyd gladly takes his place and he's the happiest in the world because after so long he finally gets to fuck you. he cums so much, all of it stuffed inside, and he cradles your belly so sweetly and tenderly.

✧ the alternative to this idea is that azul kidnaps you from the farm and keeps you captive in his home so that he can always have your milk for himself. not only for personal enjoyment but for the mostro lounge as well, and you hate him so much because he took you away from your home and friends and he keeps you shackled and collared with a little bell so you won't run away or escape. you've spent so long with him and you're months into your first pregnancy with him and he's been nothing but sweet and soft and he fucks you so good; and he's always so eager to milk you and he praises you constantly. stockholm syndrome kicks in and suddenly he's not so bad. suddenly you don't hate him anymore. suddenly you're riding him into the sheets with reckless abandon and coming apart on his cock because it feels so good and you love him so much and this is where you've always wanted to be. this is your home.

[sttoru]

when will porn with plot be appreciated . WHENNNNNNNNN ?????

[suguwu]

would you guys think i'm crazy if i write another kita soulmate long fic

[sagisbrainrot]

bingliushen omegaverse au where while out trying to handle disputes between demons and humans, bingqiu run into alpha!lqg while he’s hunting. Lqg of course decides to help them and they end up in some odd palace that even sqq knows little about. While navigating the area, omega!sqq and alpha!lqg get separated from lbh and trapped. On their way back to lbh, liushen unknowingly stumbles upon a plant that not only temporarily swapped their secondary sex (including their scents), but also induced heats / ruts

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

Chat writes the plot! Time for more 👑🐲🐟 KotD!

🔥🔥 don't forget to reblog tysm! 🔥🔥

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~King of the Dragonfish: Chapter 16 ~

When he returns from hunting treasure to find the cave empty of jedi, his scream of rage is enough to make the walls shudder and rain with scree. Maul reaches out in the force, throwing a wide net of energy out with the intent to hunt Kenobi and drag him back here. Retribution would be paid in blood for this-

He finds the jedi's energy signature just a little ways away, stationary. Lambent. The sith is brought up short, confused. Taken aback even.

Was this an escape attempt… or not?

Lashing down on his rage, setting aside judgment for a moment, Maul leaves his pot and box on the shore, and returns to the water to seek the jedi through the force. He swims fast and true for less than a minute, left and right and around…

The dragonfish sith breeches the pocket of his own bedroom cave, and rises up in a quiet rush of shedding water. Kenobi is here? Here? He went wandering, but not to his lightsaber or the surface, but here?

Maul sways his way through the caves and comes up on his own bed. There the jedi lies, buried under makeshift blankets, curled in on himself, shivering.

The sith looks around in disbelief. There on the shelf of his nightstand is his saberstaff, he leans close sniffing… not a trace of skin scent on it. Kenobi had not come looking for a weapon to kill him with then.

The last embers of his rage dowse themselves as he returns his attention to the cold little ball of stewjon.

“Jjjedi,” he whispers thoughtfully, running his claws through salt-crisp hair. “Always leaving behind the heat you need, awake or asleep. What a pathetic thing you are.”

Maul withdraws, considering the situation. Either Kenobi needed to be brought to heat, or heat needed to be brought to Kenobi. He ponders it briefly, but easily decides that he likes the jedi to be in his bed.

He goes, gathers the magma ball from the second prison cave, and returns. It is cooled somewhat, so he slices it in half with his saber like an orange, revealing the cherry red center. The freshly unmasked lava blooms with heat, rapidly forming a new black crushed shell on its surface.

Maul situates one of the halves just so, pointing it's radiant heat toward the bed. Then, he climbs in, finding his way under covers to drag his Kenobi to him. He discovers bare skin, offering him easy access to touch new places. The variety of textures is fascinating.

Predictably, when faced with heat and weight and a living body, the jedi seeks him out like a plant turning to the sun. Limbs unclench and the ball of him eases open. Arms come winding around his back, and a scruffy face presses to his shoulder.

Kenobi sighs with contentment at his presence, and Maul feels… he feels…

The words for this. These too are missing from his memory of before. Or perhaps he never had them.

Darth Maul draws his prisoner close, and waits for him to wake. The other man’s force signature brightens at one point, perhaps touching consciousness, but he drifts back down again without a word.

It is hours before the jedi truly stirs, groaning at the back of his throat as he peers blearily around.

“Kenobi,” Maul says, catching the man's chin in his fingers and drawing that watery gaze toward him.

The jedi blinks a few times, focus slow to resolve. “Where am I?” he asks.

He hums, fingers playing through that ginger beard. Soft. So soft. “Where you are meant to be.”

With a muddled huff, Kenobi turns to look around, not satisfied with his answer. “I remember getting bored and going exploring, and then I found a cave with… things. Art and trinkets… was I dreaming?”

“Mmno,” the sith denies, “you have found my cave, and put yourself in my bed. This is... good.”

The jedi scrubs a hand over his face, and back through his hair. Maul runs a hand down his bare side, then back up again.

“Sorry. I'm… not really parsing anything,” Kenobi replies.

Maul scoffs, “Because you left the heat, again. You are too weak to survive the cold. I have scolded you before but you did not listen. Hear me now: I forbid you from leaving warm places again unless I am there to watch you.”

Kenobi sloughs back down, loose limbed in his hold. “...”

“Jedi,” he says warningly at the silence, leaning in toward the other man's face. “Obey me.”

That tired, watery blue gaze lifts to his. “Mmnnn?”

So unfocused. So soft and pliant. Irresistible.

Maul’s eyes are drawn to chapped pink lips where the lower one is loose and slightly parted from the top. He doesn't question the stray desire to taste the cracked texture of it. The sith presses close, licking those lips, slipping his tongue inside a slack mouth.

“Ah,” Kenobi says softly, letting him take what he wants. His smooth tongue slides against Maul's, reactive to the languid stroking of his.

The dragonfish sith runs his claws gently down the back of his prisoner, careful not to cut unintentionally, until back becomes backside. He cups the handful of curve, squeezes and pulls, drawing their hips closer together.

The jedi turns his head away, hiding in Maul's neck. “Please, I don't…”

“Hnn?” he asks, enthralled with the way Kenobi’s soft belly and scattering of body hair felt against his own smooth stomach.

“Just hold me and let me sleep. I just want to rest,” the man pleads softly.

He tsks, “If you would stay where I put you, your strength would not wane.”

Kenobi sighs gustily, relaxing when Maul's hand returns to petting the pale flesh of him higher up. Straying places that are personal, but not quite so personal. The jedi comes back out of hiding when the trend continues. His eyes look like they struggle to stay open.

“I have gifts for you,” Maul tells him, “To earn your favor.”

“It isn't something that can or should be earned with material things,” Kenobi mumbles.

“Jedi drivel,” he counters. “Nice and necessary things are a fair measure of who to show favor to.”

Unable to help himself, the sith's claw skim just a little lower, teasing the sensitive line of skin between the other man's low back and ass. Kenobi groans, and his hips rock.

“Nng,” the pale man says simply, brows drawing faintly upward in pleasure.

Maul kisses him again, far more gently than he deserves, then settles down. “Sleep, Kenobi. Regain your strength. When you wake I will show you your gifts.”

For once, the witless jedi does as he's told.

To be continued...

-Tag list- (Comment if you want added!)

@obimaulartfire @savageopressbignaturals @icequeen8043 @moonsickvampire @maulish @obi1-kenobae @milkcioccolato @cyborg0109 @messy-sunbeam @krazykupid

New? Start from Chapter 1! 👇🏽

[toruland]

man..

fics just don’t hit me like they used to

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I've recently come across a couple of season 4 fanfics that dealt with the Chat Noir feeling left out and quitting thing and every time I read one I can't help but think "man did they chose the wrong side of the masks AND the wrong characters for this conflict. Chat Noir comes across terribly here". It's weird to see people try and justify his behavior and act like Ladybug was in the wrong.

Was Ladybug being the best friend ever? No, but friendship is secondary when they're wearing the masks. Paris comes first. Chat Noir quitting because he doesn't feel special enough is literally him endangering everyone he loves because his crush isn't paying enough attention to him and I truly can't tell if the show wanted us to feel like he was in the right or the wrong here. In Kuro Neko, Catwalker actually does acknowledge the lesson he needed to learn

There's nothing wrong with you. Maybe the boy who was Cat Noir was more sensitive than it seemed. But his feelings for you shouldn't force you to pay more attention to him than to others. You take care of everybody equally, Ladybug. 

And Chat Noir apologizes at the end of the episode for causing Ladybug trouble, but the whole thing is incredibly lackluster. They don't actually have a meaningful conversation about why he was feeling that way and the rest of the season seems to present Ladybug as being in the wrong, especially the final! Trusting Alya leads to nothing meaningful and not trusting Chat Noir loses her the miraculous. Basically, I still have no idea what season 4 was trying to do with this conflict and it's been dropped forever now that Adrien is fully reduced to nothing more than arm candy.

HOWEVER, this basic setup could have been a fantastic b plot if the "Adrien doesn't feel needed" conflict wasn't a Ladynoir conflict, but was instead a conflict between Adrien and Nino. Move Rocketear up to earlier in the season and have the fallout from that be that Adrien's relationship with Nino is strained. He can still feel leftout because Ladybug has a bigger team now, but instead of him pouting about it and skipping fights, focus on how that need for connection has transferred to his civilian life, but he doesn't have Kagami or Nino now and he's lost. Then you can either have an Adrien and Nino b plot because that relationship needs more screen time OR you use this to make Adrien and Marinette start to grow closer because Rocketear's fallout is also Alya paying more attention to Nino. Then, when season 5 does the whole crush switch, it actually feels earned.

[copdog1234]

YALL THERE ARE TWO SEASONS LEFT, NOT EVERYTHING IS GONNA BE WRAPPED UP IN A TIGHT LITTLE BOW??? THERES STILL BOUND TO BE CONFLICT, WHY ARE YALL COMPLAINING ABOUT THE OPEN ENDS????

[danidoesntart]

Chat Noir is on a rooftop alone listening to his romance playlist and ladybug comes up like "what are you doing" and he's like "this is the song I want to lose my virginity to" and ladybug listens and it's a very romantic song but there's one problem with it and she says "chat noir this song is 65 bpm (very very slow) your girlfriend would hate you" and hes like "oh" and this fic idea was brought to you by a convo i had with my best friend when i was 17

[archer-kacey]

Unofficial Shally Bullet Points Round 1;

Shawn is gay, Wally is bisexual.

Met through work. Wally routinely did maintenence on the machinery on the factory floor. They ended up hitting it off in passing conversation.

Wally is a huge dog lover and has three dogs (that he's not allowed to have) at his place of residence.

Said dogs are Zeus (border collie mix), Lady (mutt, looks like a black collie), and Shep (Old English sheepdog mix.) All are former strays.

Lady loves Shawn and does tricks for him, Shep ignores him whenever possible, and Zeus is just happy to see anyone.

Shawn is an excellent painter and if you sit him down with a brush he can do a pretty damn good landscape portrait.

Shawn has permanent inkstains on his fingertips from detail work on the toys. This is partially due to his refusal to wear gloves.

Shawn swears up and down that there are a few "real" superstitions- mainly walking under ladders, broken mirrors, and ghosts.

Shawn never confronted the Gent worker who stole his belt, and when asked always dismissed the situation saying the belt "wasn't worth the trouble." In reality, he hated Gent's guts and didn't want to start a fight on studio grounds.

Wally can't hold a tune and neither can Shawn.

Shawn fell first (immediately, not thinking anything would happen between them) Wally fell harder (started standing way too close and practically knocking Shawn over.)

The first night out drinking together they both came back to Wally's apartment and passed out on the couch together. Ever since then they had no qualms with sleeping on or around each other.

Shawn's coworkers knew about them and tried playing cupid a few times.

First successful time playing cupid was peer pressuring them into dancing together during a pub crawl.

Second successful time was whatever the hell happened at a mutual friend's house on Christmas Eve

Wally has a scar in the center of his chest from falling off a balcony when he was young. It's a sensitive topic (and a couple past partners didn't help with the self-consciousness,) so he kept it from Shawn for as long as possible. Of course Shawn doesn't care, and often comments that it makes him look like a "Gaelic Warrior."

Shawn was raised Irish-Catholic but holds mostly agnostic beliefs. Wally was raised Christian and generally believes in the "important stuff", though has his own LONG set of questions about several biblical events (mainly Noah's Ark...don't get him started.)

Shawn has a single mom. Wally has a mom, dad, and two sisters.

Wally leans more towards "classic American" foods (AKA give him a burger and he'll be happy) but he knows how to cook (thanks to his mom) and he appreciates good food more than the average person.

(Wally's sisters cannot cook to save their lives LOL)

Shawn has found on several occasions that he's able to one-up Wally in the kitchen. Lucky for him, Wally deeply appreciates food coming from people he loves.

Shawn can stomach seafood, Wally cannot (it makes him sicker than a dog on a rollercoaster.)

Shawn smokes and drinks, Wally drinks socially but never alone. Wally doesn't smoke because he has a relative who smoked waaay too much and they now sound like a dying rat.

After evaluating why his past relationships never worked out, Wally eventually figured he wanted to find someone like Shawn to spend the rest of his life with, but knew it probably wasn't possible to find a girl like him (so close babe! That's called having feelings for a man <3 you'll get it next time)

Wally is into people who can make him laugh, Shawn is into people who can throw him around by the leg like a shot put ball.

Wally never realized he was bi until Shawn came along, but in retrospect there was probably a reason he kept a select handful of baseball cards in the same drawer as his pinup gals.

Wally did have a crush on Susie. Nothing ever came of it, but they did become great friends. (This is part of the reason Sammy hasn't strangled him yet.)

Despite a streak of clumsiness and forgetfulness, Wally is actually skilled at his job and surprisingly hasn't blown anything up yet.

Shawn hides gifts. Any gifts. He makes the whole affair a damn treasure hunt. NEVER do Easter with this guy.

The longer the joke, the more likely Shawn is to tell it.

Both are animal lovers in general, though Wally considers it a sign of bad character for someone to hate dogs, and Shawn considers it a red flag for someone to hate cats.

Shawn made a custom Boris doll for Wally, which of course is on display out of reach of the dogs.

Wally values physical touch in general- firm handshake, wrestling/playing with his dogs, etc, but also as a love language.

Shawn is an angry/flirty drunk, Wally is a giggly drunk.

Shawn had one boyfriend when he was younger and has more experience with intimacy, and Wally is the inverse, having gone on his fair share of dates, but pulling the brakes when it comes to anything further.

Shawn has slightly crooked teeth.

Idk where to put this but they ended up toweling each other off after a hose fight at a Fourth of July cookout and definitely felt some things

Their first kiss started an argument. It did not end in an argument btw.

Shawn started calling Wally "baby-doll" and "sweetheart" somewhere along the line of their friendship. Wally upgraded Shawn to "honey" or "dolly" after they made things more official.

Wally thought it would be a good idea to get Shawn a puppy for their second anniversary and he was right the puppy was adorable and Shawn cried profusely

They had a backyard wedding with close friends and family. Allison was invited and of course attended, dragging Thomas along in the process. (He can't stand either Shawn or Wally so this is a fair punishment for his crimes against humanity I think.)

[merakiui]

I am so normal about a crocodile's dilemma (lies) and it does not live in my head rent free (more lies)

AAAAAA OTL this is the story that will shatter poor Riddle. CD!Riddle experiences the worst time of his life in this plot. The goal is to write a story so excruciating that it prompts tears. >_< or some sort of visceral emotion. Nothing but suffering for Dr. Rosehearts.

[disventure-rewrite-takes]

As a Jake kinnie and supporter, an Aiden enjoyer, and Jakeden shipper- deadass the story would be more exciting if they dated.

Hear me out- Tom x Jake? It’s cute, but it honestly feels a little empty. If ONC wanted to focus on the Jam ship, they should’ve added more. The stupid “will they won’t they” should not be in my indie gay show!!

James x Aiden- nothing. No seasoning. No spice. No chemistry. Just fanservice. In my opinion, it doesn’t help that the first kiss they ever had was a little non-consensual. Aiden agreed to kiss him for like 2 seconds- not 10. Aiden was probably really uncomfortable considering that he didn’t like James at the time. Plus James’ entire personality is “Aiden” and “Social media” it feels like he’s an NPC.

So what if in DCAS Aiden used to love James, he really did. But recently, every kiss feels fake, every hug feels fabricated. James still loves Aiden, but Aiden doesn’t feel the same anymore. Getting back into the show was perfect! Maybe he could have the privacy to talk to Lake, maybe the spark between him and James would relight! But as soon as Aiden walks onto the plane, he spots Jake. Aiden LOVED Jake in season one- so he has a little fanboy crush as is. James gets voted off, and Aiden doesn’t really feel that upset, if anything he’s a little glad he won’t have to act super lovey dovey. He had a conversation with Lake before she gets voted off, and she basically tells him “It’s okay to not be in love anymore. Things happen, you should just be honest with him and break things off when the show is over.”

Jake on the other hand gets jealous of Tom and Aiden hanging out- but this time.. it’s not because of Tom. Jake is jealous that Tom is hanging out with this cute boy. Jake tells himself that he’s jealous of Aiden, as Jake has slowly begun to realize that him and Tom just might not be meant to be and he needs to move the fuck on. Eventually, Jake starts to realize that he’s thinking more and more about Aiden and tells this to Ashley- and she basically says “Well it sounds like you got a crush on Aiden, not Tom.” Jake understands this now- but because he’s bad with his feelings, he still acts kinda passive aggressive with Aiden. Yet he can’t help but joke around with him sometimes. When the merge happens and Connor gives everyone the speech, Jake realizes that he should be more honest with Aiden. So Jake and Aiden start to develop a friendship! Episode 13- the superhero one! At the end of the challenge! Make Aiden kiss Jake in the moment!! Because over the course of the show- Aiden was like “God Jake is so pretty” and then their friendship arc made him go “God Jake is so cool” then after the challenge- Jake and Aiden talk to each other- and become a couple.

This adds more to Jake’s character! He’s finally in a relationship that isn’t based off looks, they have chemistry, they have a genuine relationship arc and not that “will they won’t they” bullcrap. Then when Aiden gets voted off! Jake is like “I need to win this for me, AND Aiden!”

Also the moment when Jake finds out James is his helper in the final challenge? That “James.. oh g o d” is so much funnier because Jake and Aiden are dating now. And Jake has no idea about how James feels about that. (Don’t worry they establish that James and Aiden break up in the motel episode- James is sad but he understands)

hey hey hey as a big jakeden fan i am NODDINGGGGGGG

this is my own personal bias but i'd love to add james to their relationship anyways, jajames enemies to lovers is SO FUNNY - but i can totally get behind just jakeden. seriously they had so much chemistry.

i think i would change the kiss though, i'd let them get a kiss just maybe in the finale, granted that jake is in it. just so everything is consensual and sorted out, so we don't have to bear with 'cheating' drama with jaiden. they can still have those nice, awkward & romantic moments, like the hug in the lie detector episode (my god was that peak jakeden. that whole episode was spectacular for them)

i fw this hard

[staraxiaa]

chromatic (kirishima fic) update

how it started, chromatic v1:

how it’s (maybe) going, subject to change:

ive just started part III btw

[biitchcakes]

Hello hello !! I know it's been over a month since my last post on here anyway, but I figure it's time to officially make a HIATUS post. Even though I've not been on the computer in the last few weeks ( lurking here and there on mobile ), I know I'll definitely be without access to it from 14 July ⸺ 14 September !! ( and perhaps even into October, will update if so ! )

I'll still be popping in on the app from time to time, I'm not completely getting off the site, but writing here will definitely have to take a backseat ⸺ even more so than it already has, unfortunately. My goal once I'm back from this hiatus is to get back to writing, I do miss you guys and writing Jess so much 😭 I've just not had the time for tumblr lately.

To keep the blog active, over the next couple of days, I'm gonna try to queue up some posts for the next few weeks. See what else I can manage too while I'm at it, but I'm taking a trip ! (🥳) So I know the next few days are gonna be pretty busy with preparations and what not.

Hope to see you on the other side 🫡🖖💖

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

Chat writes the plot! Time for more 👑🐲🐟 KotD!

🔥🔥 don't forget to reblog tysm! 🔥🔥

~King of the Dragonfish: Chapter 12~

It had taken a very long time for whatever strange, oceanic narcotic that Maul had imbibed to wear off. Anytime Obi-Wan had stopped levitating the moss around, he'd very quickly had a newly bored and curious sith getting uppity with him, trying to get his hands on the jedi's chest hair. It was easier to float the damn plants around than to peel the dragonfish man off of him, by a long shot, and so he did.

For hours.

Eventually Maul had worn himself out and coiled down into a circle of tail and sith. Obi-Wan found his own spot on the cold, rocky ground beside the magma ball, and passed right out.

He dreams of master Qui-Gon. Nothing specific, just fragments of taking a walk. The world they're on shifts, from Stewjon to Nar Shaddaa to Naboo. They don't talk much, but it's very comfortable.

He thinks of Anakin. The young man is panicking about something again, always so passionate, asking him over and over where he was. Obi-Wan tries to tell his padawan that he's quite fine, but the boy won't listen. Oh, Anakin. He never does listen.

Hmm… why is it so cold?

He dreams of the room of a thousand fountains, of dozing beside the waterfall. At some point, that becomes going for a swim in the pools. He slips into the water, and discovers that Kit is down there, meditating. Obi-Wan doesn't want to interrupt! So he swims slowly around the outside. After some number of laps, his nautolan friend awakens from his meditation, and waves to him. Obi-Wan waves back, and they go for a swim together through the tunnels beneath the fountains, built especially for the waterborn species of jedi. Their version of a walking trail.

Between one tunnel and the next, he loses track of Kit, and the lights start to dim. Dimmer and dimmer and dimmer… He can't seem to be truly afraid for some reason, but he does feel mild concern. He'll be lost down here forever without some kind of light.

Something swims past him, too fast to see in the growing darkness. A splash of green, and it's gone.

Oh! There he is.

Obi-Wan swims that way, trying to find him. He almost catches the other man as he swims by again. Almost, almost, almost… drat! He wishes Kit would stop swimming by him so bloody fast. The next time he feels the drag of scales under his palm, Obi-Wan throws himself toward them, and latches on.

Ha! Got him!

Quite pleased with himself, the jedi master wraps his legs around the other man, and uses his fingers to write in sign language on Kit’s pecs, chastising him for playing games in the dark. The nautolan’s chest moves like he's laughing, and arms wrap around Obi-Wan's back. He huffs, smacking the man for laughing at him. Kit nips at his chin in return.

Oh so that's how it is?

Obi-Wan bites back. Then Kit repays it. He returns fire yet again, and finds the hips under his rolling toward him. Cool, clawed hands run up and down his back.

Distantly, he wonders how he's breathing, with no rebreather in his mouth, but the thought fades softly away. Even underwater this is so nice. Being held is such a rarity for him, but oh it's so…

Those cool hands move lower, tracing the curve of his ass, and he feels his interest stirring even more. These were public tunnels though… they shouldn't tempt fate by-

Hips roll into his, harder, more insistent, and Obi-Wan groans. Kit wanted to…? Here? Oh he was ridiculous… but the nautolan would surely hear anyone coming long before they came...

Obi-Wan kisses his way down slick skin, pushing lower, lower, trying to find the bulge between the other man's legs by feel alone, to rub against it. He finds not a bulge but a full length, already free from cloth. Strangely much lower than expected…

… larger than expected too.

Hips rock into his, and he can't help but meet them, spreading his legs, lifting his knees. Oh, it's been so long…

Obi-Wan finds this strange angle puts his face right at eye level with Kit’s fantastic chest. He palms both pecs, kneading, then dips his head to run his tongue over one pert nipple. The body underneath him thrashes, making him smile muzzily. It must have been quite the dry spell for Kit, too. He turns to the other half of his chest, applying teeth and tongue to the sensitive peak.

Claws dig into his shoulders. He takes that as encouragement. Strange… where did the water go? The body beneath him rocks up against his, but their buoyancy is gone.

There's no water, there's only air.

There's no temple, no tunnels, only stone and-

Obi-Wan blinks his eyes open, only half conscious, and finds himself straddling a dragonfish man. Maul is looking up at him with wide eyes, chest heaving and gills fluttering with his panting breaths.

The jedi blinks half a dozen times, but the image doesn't resolve itself into something that makes any more sense than before. Maul has been on land long enough that his skin is dry, save for a sheen of wetness on both nipples.

The sith’s tongue makes a lap of his own lower lip, then he swallows. “Kenobi…”

Oh ye gods.

Obi-Wan rolls off of him immediately, “I apologize!” he yelps, skittering away until his back hits a wall.

Their eyes meet, luminous green to watery blue. The sith’s gaze dips, landing on the bulge in his pants. Obi-Wan shoves it downward and crosses his legs over top of it. Maul’s head tilts, like he's identifying when Obi-Wan has done that before. Oh kriff.

The jedi clears his throat. “That was completely inappropriate, I do apologize. I'm not sure what happened, I was having… ah, pleasant dreams, and then… did you come near me in the night?”

Maul writhes gracefully, his tail coming up under him as he rises and sways closer. “I did. You had rolled away from your lava, so I put you back and pinned you down.”

Obi-Wan shuffles awkwardly sideways, trying to keep his distance, desperately trying not to look-

“Thank you for your consideration then, so sorry for the trouble. Shall we go back to bed? Separately! I mean. You… over there. Me, over here.”

The other man continues to sway closer, a rhythmical shifting of his tail from left to right and back again that propels him forward. His blue-black cock sways with the motion of his hips, hypnotic like a metronome. A red line runs along the underside, with tiny red dots going halfway up either side. The tip is pointed, and there's these little-

Obi-Wan wheezes, and scrambles the other direction until he is backed up against the water line. “Maul,” he starts, not sure what to say to make the other man stop looking at him like that.

Oh force, the sith lord looks like he wants, and is determined to get what he wants. Obi-Wan just needs to spread his legs and invite him to-

As a jedi master, he must rise to the occasion, despite great personal cost. “Maul,” he says again, “I just want you to know…”

“Yessss?” the man croons, eyes half lidded as he approaches.

“That this is not an escape attempt, I am merely in dire need of a bath. Immediately.”

With that, he tosses himself into the ice cold water, for the absolute worst blue balling he has ever experienced.

To be continued...

Want to be on the tag list? -> Comment with 'tag me!' Have an idea for next chapter or clicked the wrong option? -> Reblog about it! Check the bottom for the Ao3 link. Latest chapter is below the cut!🔥

-Tag list-

@obimaulartfire @savageopressbignaturals @icequeen8043 @moonsickvampire @maulish

New? Start from Chapter 1! 👇🏽