#darth maul x female oc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ladyveronikawrites · 25 days ago

Text

AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A GOOD TIME

Lady Midnight's Kinktober in the Concrete Jungle 2024

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x Jolly Karlsson x OC x Noah Sebastian

Cw- masked men, roleplaying, sensory deprivation: blindfolds, scarf as bondage, unprotected vaginal sex, mean ex boyfriend, double penetration, oral sex (male and female receiving), mild thigh slapping, spitting, vaginal fingering, jerking off, facial, cum eating, revenge kink if you squint, getting caught, voyeurism, THICK DICK NICK, one hot foursome, If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: a little self-indulgent fic, Star Wars characters ahead - Nick as Kylo Ren makes me feral lol - pärla means 'gem' in Swedish

AO3 || Wattpad || Word Count: 3k || masterlist || Taglist sign up

dividers by saradika-graphics

Ruby swipes on her signature red lip as she looks over her outfit in the full-length mirror by the front door. She adjusts her boring brown Jedi robes Nathan insisted she wear to juxtapose his Darth Maul. She scoffs to herself knowing damn well he has no idea who Darth Maul is and probably found the costume at Spirit Halloween. Reluctantly she sighs, the distant dream of her Sabine Wren cosplay lying buried under clothes in her closet never to see the light of day.

Her phone chimes, ripping her from her brief moment of sadness.

She frantically types ‘OMW’ as she slides into the Uber.

Nathan <Ru, I have been waiting for over an hour.>

She can hear Nathan’s anger through the screen, silently sending a prayer for the driver to go faster. Ruby and Nathan were high school sweethearts that turned into an on-and-off-and-on-again situationship while they were away in college, but when Ruby dropped out of college to pursue music full-time as an indie artist - things went sour really fast. He never understood her passion for music, too self-absorbed in his reputation at the Ivy League university he got into thanks to his wealthy parents.

Her fingers freeze over the screen as her heart shatters into a thousand pieces.

Nathan <You know what, since it seems like you don’t care about MY time, we are done. For real this time. Don’t even bother coming.>

Tears stream down her face as she powers down her phone and shoves it into her purse. He can go fuck himself, Ruby thinks to herself - and she gets an even better idea.

“S-sorry but can you take me downtown instead?” she asks, her voice wavering slightly as the realization sinks in. She takes a deep breath, drying her tear-stained cheeks as the driver pulls up to Nathan’s most hated bar- which happens to be her favorite, Third Base.

The bar is bustling as she walks in. It’s been updated since she had been there, all those months ago when Nathan was doing a semester abroad in Rome. Ruby instantly fell in love with the quaint charm of the dive bar. It didn’t help that the bar owner was ruggedly handsome, the kind of personality that was homegrown from a small town. She ached for the slow stroll of home instead of the hustle and bustle of city life. Festive Halloween touches add to the ambiance and that’s when she realizes other patrons are also adorned in costume.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” his familiar twang wraps around her like a warm blanket. She should probably be sobbing into her wine glass in a rose-scented bubble bath in the comfort of her home instead she replies with “Whiskey neat, double.” She notices he’s the only one not dressed up, even his bartender is sporting a risque outfit.

Ruby is about to mention the lack of costume when he asks “That kinda night?” Ruby downs the drink without a word, slides off the metal bar stool, and makes her way to the old jukebox in the corner of the bar. She scrolls through the CDs not really impressed with the selection.

“Not finding what you’re looking for?” A distorted voice has Ruby turning. She opens her mouth to grumble about the lackluster music selection, but her brain turns to static. She’s met face-to-face with Kylo Ren.

“I-”

“Here, you might like this.” Another man dressed up as a Mandalorian pushes between them. Ruby stands in awe as the two men fight over a CD. Her awe turns into appreciation as she notices the small details in the homemade costume. Whoever’s in the suit spent hours making it.

“Can I buy you another drink?” A deep voice comes from the bar.

She turns and freezes. “N-nathan? How’d yo-” She is silenced by a red-painted finger as the man towers over her. Realization strikes her that this man is too tall to be Nathan.

“Nathan isn’t here Jedi.” Boldly, the stranger spits in her face - playing into the villainous role - yet Ruby can’t help but be even more aroused.

Ruby finds herself being shoved into the back seat of an SUV. Not in a kidnappy way but in a rushed I-want-to-devour-you-way. The look Darth Maul is giving her has her pussy throbbing. She slides her way in as Kylo and Mando hop in the front. Warm lips pressed against her and; at this moment, she couldn't care less if she was covered in red and black body paint by the end of this. She pulls him in closer as his gloved hand teases the waistband of her leggings. Her head thuds against the window when he slips his fingers inside her as his tongue explores her mouth. Suddenly, his long finger slams into the sweet spot and she bites down on his bottom lip, hard.

He groans, “You gonna surrender, Jedi?”

“Fuck, don’t stop,” she whines as he finger fucks her all the way to her apartment. By the time they get to her apartment, his gloves are drenched and the back seat is damp where she was sitting, but Ruby could give a single fuck as in the span of 30 minutes she had already had more satisfying orgasms than Nathan could ever give her. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the thrill? Probably both. If one of them can satisfy her alone with his fingers imagine all three of them.

“You wanna do this Jedi?” Kylo Ren asks once in Ruby’s apartment.

“It’s not every night you get three masked men in your apartment,” she smirks her hands roaming over his black robes.

“You’ll have to wear this,” the foreign Mandalorian slides a blindfold over her eyes.

“That’s fine,” her breath catches as her hands drift up to grip Ren’s mask. “Can I take this off?”

Abruptly, she finds herself pressed against a solid chest behind her and warm lips devour her own. She tangles her fingers into long hair and he groans when she yanks.

“I was not expecting long hair, but it’s so soft.” Ruby twirls a strand around her finger. Her hand cups his cheek and pulls him into another kiss.

“Ren’s not the only one here Jedi.” Her heartbeat skyrockets at the memory of Darth Maul in the backseat of the car. The way he towered over her, his eyes dark with lust, and his voice made her pussy flutter.

The mattress groans with the added weight and Ruby’s mind begins to spiral. She yelps with teeth and stubble brush against the skin on her inner thigh. Fuck, Mando has facial hair that's fucking hot. Ruby giggles as he inches closer to her core and at the same time remembers how Nathan can only grow a pathetic and patchy beard. She squirms, aching for roughness against her pussy..

“Oh you’re a feisty one,” Maul whispers in her ear as he settles down beside her. Suddenly, her hands are bound loosely with something smooth and soft. Her brain rationalizes one of her summer scarves that hangs from the hooks over the door. A part of her hopes it’s her favorite one, the black one with skulls.

“Our red hot Ruby.” he nips at her ear and at the same time one of them pinches her nipple. Ruby yelps at the sudden pain, endorphins surging through her body. “You like a little pain with your pleasure, hm?”

Smack

A large hand makes contact with her inner thigh. “Fuck! Yes,” Ruby yelps. “Yes, I like pain ‘n pleasure!”

Lips brush against her cheek. “Our little pain slut.”

“Our little pain slut,” Mando mumbles against her throbbing clit as he sinks two thick fingers inside her.

“Fuck,” she groans as her pussy walls stretch from the invasion.

“God Ruby… have you ever- “ he trails off, lost in thought. He sucks her clit between his lips and thrusts his fingers into the spongy sweet spot. Ruby writhes as the coil winds tighter in her core. Large hands clamp down on her shoulders to keep her steady as her body starts to tremble. In a silent scream, the dam breaks, and euphoria floods through her body as she releases herself onto Mando’s face. She writhes oversensitive and overwhelmed as he laps up everything she gives him.

“Little, pärla” Mando pants, “You are divine.”

Ruby finds herself being pulled gently to sit upright. “Here’s some water,” Ren says softly, handing her a glass of water.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks warm to the kind gesture. “Nathan never took care of me like this.” Her lips press into a thin line and her shoulders slump forward as her mind flashes each disappointing experience.

A warm hand settles on the small of her back, gently rubbing up and down. “Ain’t nothin’ but a good time, hm?” Mando whispers seductively, his breath is hot against the shell of her ear.

Ruby briefly wonders if that would have been the track he chose at the bar. Her heart flutters at the parallels and she enthusiastically adds, “Hell yeah!”

She squeals at first when hands grip her hips and hoist her onto his lap. His hard cock

“You ready for a good time, sweetheart?” Ren asks before pulling her into a heated kiss. His free hand roams over her tits as another set of hands rubs up and down her thighs. Sandwiched between the two men her heart races with anticipation.

“Got any lube, darling?” Mando asks as Ren pulls her up onto her knees.

“In… the… drawer…” she replies between kisses. Her heart leaps into her throat when a cold and wet finger circles the tense muscle of her asshole.

“Can Mando fill you up back there while Ren plays with your pretty pussy?” Maul’s baritone makes her spine tingle. Mando’s finger stills at her back entrance and Ren nips at her other ear.

“Can I watch?” Maul asks, pulling the blindfold off and Ruby’s eyes widen, taking in the sight before her. Ren’s stormy blue-gray eyes captivate her first, then his soft smile and tint of pink on his cheeks. She can’t resist carding her hand through his hair, so smooth. He leans into her touch, entranced by the gentleness. The world around them darkness slightly and she briefly forgets about the other two. She could stay here, locked in his gentle gaze but her eyes begin to wonder. Her other hand traces the tattoos on his shoulder to his wrist where in the corner of her vision she spies his large thick cock.

Suddenly, a gloved hand grips her wrist and twists her sideways. His fingers entwine with hers as the other grips her chin. “Don’t forget about us, Jedi.” His deep brown eyes are piercing and she notices that his face is the only exposed skin free of paint. His abdominal muscles flex as her gaze lowers, she huffs disappointed that he is clothed from the waist down.

Her eyes widen at the sound of a deep moan. Maul tilts her head back so she can see the man behind her. His grasp loosens completely and she twists her body more to see Mando better.

“Hello, pärla,” he moans her nickname, his eyelids flutter closed as he strokes himself.

“Looks like Mando’s ready. Are you?” Maul asks.

Ruby remains fixed on watching Mando touch himself. She mutters a breathless, “Yeah.”

“Come back to your supreme leader.” A tinge of pain pricks at Ruby’s scalp when Ren fists her hair and tugs. She moans as the pain melts into pleasure.

“Finally showing me your dark side, Ren,” Ruby smirks. “I like it.”

“Good.” Ren crowds into Ruby’s space, thrusting his hand around her throat. He squeezes slightly then releases pressure completely. “Lean back.”

Ruby adjusts her stance to straddle Mando’s hips. Together, Mando and Ren guide her to lower herself onto him. Maul groans beside them. The stretch takes her breath away, if only for a moment as the hand tightens around her neck and lips crash onto hers. Ruby succumbs to the sensations letting Mando set the pace while she battles for breath with the fallen Jedi. Ren shoves her back against Mando’s chest by the throat. She sucks in the air when he releases his hand, chest heaving with every inhalation.

“My turn,” Ren growls, nipping at her earlobe. He squeezes the soft tissue of her breasts as his mouth trails kisses down her torso. Grinning he spreads her legs apart wider and his lips gently kiss her tummy before descending through her silken folds. Mando thrusts into her as Ren teases her other hole with his tongue and then sucks at her clit. She’s teetering on the edge of bliss when it is abruptly ripped away.

“No cumming yet darling.” Mando stills inside her just as Ren flattens his tongue licking one final time before pulling away.

“Do you want a taste?” Ren asks, his lips ghosting over hers. Her mouth drops open to respond but without warning, fingers slide their way in. Disappointment sours her stomach when Ren leans over and kisses Mando. Greedily, she flicks her tongue around Ren’s fingers in hopes of vying for his attention.

“Is our Ruby a little jealous she is getting attention?” Maul laughs. In the heat of the moment, Ruby had forgotten all about him. “No… you aren’t jealous, but your needy little cunt is.” Desperation flashes through her as she bites down on Ren’s fingers. Ren huffs a laugh against Mando’s lips,

“I heard that cunt is still needy, hm?” Ren tilts his head, his gaze scanning over her body. A small whine leaks out of her mouth. He slides his fingers out of her mouth and onto her throat. His lips curl into a devilish smirk, “You want more?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please!” Ruby’s lashes flutter when Ren sinks into her dripping pussy.

“So tight-” Ren groans.

“Dude, I can feel you,” Mando gasps when Ren bottoms out.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Maul muses.

Ren holds her steady as Mando slowly thrusts in and out of her.

“Feeling good?” Maul whispers lowly in her ear.

“S-so good, so full.. he's so big” Her words melt into nothingness when Ren flexes inside her.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna come… don’t-” Ruby whines as Mando and Ren alternate thrusting into her ass and cunt.

“Ru, you home? I saw your car out front.” Her ex’s voice booms through the apartment, his words slur together in one long word. But she can’t be bothered as pressure builds in her core.

“Shhh,” Mando shushes her with a hand to her mouth

“Maybe,” Maul leans over and whispers turning Ruby slightly towards him. Grinning he offers his eager cock to her and she eagerly nods. Ren smacks Maul in the arms when he moans as Ruby takes him into her mouth.

The bedroom door swings open and Maul’s cock throbs between her lips. Ren and Mando are too far gone to care when -

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

Ruby sighs against Maul’s softening cock slipping it from her mouth while she is still being pounded between two beautiful men. It takes all of her strength not to come when she leans around Ren to stare Nathan dead in the eyes.

“Fuck! You!” she groans as she comes, flipping Nathan one and then sucking on each of her middle fingers. Her eyes roll back as she catches a glimpse of him stalking out the door. When the door slams shut she sinks into Mando as euphoria floods her body.

“Damn, that was hot!” Maul says impressed. Ruby peers up through her lashes at Maul who’s stoking his now hard cock.

“Yeah?” Ruby cocks an eyebrow. Without hesitation, she pulls his free hand and sucks on his middle finger.

Maul sucks in a curse. “Damn girl, fuck.” Ruby bites down at Maul’s finger, not painfully hard, but enough when her hair is yanked back and she is pulled off.

“Wh-”

“Open up,” Mando commands as he grips her jaw forcing her mouth open. Ruby opens her mouth wide and sticks her tongue out with anticipation. Mando lowers his hands to rest around her throat squeezing gently. Ren tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down to suck on her nipple. She jolts when he bites down, her pussy walls clenching around his semi-hard cock. Mando slides his hand down her middle to circle her clit as Ren plays with her tits.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Maul curses as he splatters his cum all over Ruby’s face. Small whimpers come from her open mouth as another orgasm wrecks through her. She swallows then licks her lips and smiles up at Maul before pulling him closer to lick and suck at his softening cock. She hisses when Ren pulls off her tit with an audible pop.

Ruby hums satisfiedly, leaning back against Mando, as Ren slides out of her. Before he can say another word, she mumbles, “Baby wipes in the bathroom down the hall.”

She doesn’t open her eyes but sinks further into bliss as Mando rubs his hands up and down her arms. “You did so well for us Pärla,” he whispers in her ear. All she can muster is a hummed agreement.

“Let me clean you up,” Maul offers when Ren returns. She blinks to find soft brown eyes and a dazzling smile to greet her. “Thank you,” she whispers. “All of you,” she adds when Ren takes Maul’s place in front of her to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. As Ren and Maul redress, Mando steals more kisses as he helps Ruby up to dress her.

“Here,” Maul hands Ruby her glass of water. “You can call me Noah.”

“Hi, Noah.” she flashes him a dazzling smile in the afterglow.

“Food?” Ren asks before adding,” The name’s Nick and he’s Jolly.”

“No please- you guys can go, I’ll be alright.” Ruby dismisses, gesturing to the door.

“Please?” Jolly wraps her up in his arms. “Dinner and a movie and we will leave after that.”

“We just don’t want you to be alone,” Nick adds.

“Fine.” Ruby relents as her stomach rumbles. “Thai food and the new Deadpool movie.”

The four of them settle on blankets and pillows in the living room with Ruby in the middle. She finds herself leaning against Jolly’s shoulder and for the first time in a long time has finally felt at peace.

👑Royal Readers👑

@deathblacksmoke @mysticdoodlez @sitkowski @snarkysolaris @collapsedglasshouses @shilohrosechicken

@cookiesupplier @iknownothingpeople @dominuslunae @agravemisstake @the-ancient-fae

@itsafullmoon @philomenie @th4t-em0-k1d @baddestomens @rumoured-whispers

@blackveilomens @sorrowsofsilence @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @tearfallpixie @nerdraging4point0

@omensbrainrot @99png @awkwardalex @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @lobolocaamo

#ladymidnightskinktober2024 #kinktober 2024 #bad omens kinktober #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #jolly karlsson fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo x oc #jolly karlsson x oc #noah sebastian x oc #ladyveronikawrites

58 notes · View notes

tragedybunny · 7 months ago

Text

꧁༺Star Wars Fanfiction Masterlist ༻꧂

༺ SFW ༻

Trying to Hold My Breath, Let It Stay This Way - It’s a quiet moment after a battle and Ahsoka and Barriss take a little time to just be together.

Sparring Match - Obi-Wan x GN!Reader. Reader has been invited to watch a lightsaber sparring match, too bad they only have eyes for Obi-Wan

Early Morning Negotiation - Obi-Wan x F!Reader. Obi-Wan should probably get out of bed and start his day, Reader does not agree.

Hiraeth - A story that explores the relationship between Obi-Wan and Satine; the choices they made, how those affected their lives, and the reassurance they give themselves that they did the right thing.

༺ NSFW ༻

A Different Kind of Trial - Obi-Wan x F!Reader. Obi-Wan Kenobi has come to a Courtesan House shortly after his Knighthood looking for his first carnal experience. Reader is the Courtesan that is hired for the occasion.

Little One, Little Pet - Darth Maul X F!Reader. Reader is Maul's little plaything.

༺ A Fate Written in Indifferent Star - Star War Long Fic - Obi-Wan Kenobi x OC Female Nightsister ༻

The Republic has fallen and the Empire has risen. Obi-Wan lives in exile on Tatooine, the distant guardian of Luke Skywalker. Amidst the desperation and desolation, the mysterious appearance of a Nightsister draws his curiosity. As he tries to piece together her true intentions, he finds himself more deeply entangled wit her than he ever intended.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

#my fanfic #my writing #star wars #star wars fanfic #obi wan kenobi #nightsister oc #darth maul #ahsoka tano #bariss offee

8 notes · View notes

lune-de-miel-au-paradis · 1 year ago

Text

Face to face -Maul's pow

Summary: When Maul woke up, he found himself in an interesting situation. The green eyed young woman comes and he has some questions. Is this all a part of his master’s newest plan? Or is it a new obstacle that he must overcome in order to prove himself worthy of his master?

Pairing: Darth Maul x OC Nina Cerasus

Warnings: Mention of wounds, medication, anxiety, mutual pining, idiots in love, angst, violence. (Let me know if I left out something.) Minors DNI! Italics means inner thoughts.

AN: This fic means a lot to me and I worked on it a lot. If you have any advice or comments, please share them with me kindly. I'm posting for the first time in years and I don't want nasty comments to discourage me from posting again. If you don't like it, please go to another blog. I did my best to translate it, so pls forgive me, English is not my first language.

Please enjoy reading!

dividers by Saradika

previous chapter

Maul woke up alone. Fresh dewy night air hit his nose, mixed with the scent of sweet jasmine bushes, and some salty water mixed with mold. When he opened his eyes, he saw the endlessly empty sky, framed by the leaves of a few trees, and soft grassy ground beneath him tickled his toes. As he slowly sat up, he felt the previous spasms slowly loosen in his muscles. He knew that all he needed was a little movement to relieve the feeling of numbness in his muscles as the acid fluid trapped between the muscle fibers was released. He grunted as he stood up, but he felt the familiar weight missing from his utillian belt. He looked around with feverish nervousness, but his fierce warrior hearts found peace.

He found the saber in the soft grass next to him.

The light of the three moons glittered on the cold metal as he picked it up. Such beauty from such a lethal weapon. He still admired it every time he hold it in his hands.

He looked around, someone had definitely been here. He noticed a black material with a neat square shape. It was his upper robe. Someone took it off and put it under his head. His gloves and boots were also lying next to him. This annoyed the male zabrak. According to the signs, someone touched him while he was unconscious.

He put his boots back on and looked around, but he didn't see anyone, he only could sense only the nocturnal animals of the forest and the lake. Suddenly he heard a rhythmic noise. Soft, quiet steps that didn't seem sneaky, but rather quick. He sensed from the rhythm of voices that a humanoid was approaching. So he did what he had to do, he became one with the darkness and walked in the coal of the night shadows using it as a camouflage. Taking advantage of this, he found himself in the halls of the old abandoned villa as an observation. It was a young female. Maul watched the woman silently, like a surveying animal in a situation of danger. To Maul's surprise, the female walked confidently and fearlessly in the moonlight. She was wearing black light material pants and a matching black soft blouse, the moons shined on the silky material. Her movements were graceful and light, she almost glided. It was as if she was like a spirit being stuck here haunting the abandoned ruins. Maul couldn't see her face, but for some reason he wanted to.

He soon learned that the woman had no weapon, her clothes were ordinary, so she was neither a Jedi nor an assassin.

“Would this also be a test from my Master? What should my next step be?”

The woman stood with her back to him, her dark shiny hair braided down on her back, and she opened a bag, she put it on an old ornate but worn table.

She was humming some melody that sounded like something that would be graciously played on a piano.

Then she stopped and began to listen. Presumably she felt that she was being watched. Maul saw her posture stiffen, as she looked around several times and headed straight for the lake, where Maul used to lie. So she came because of him.

Maul continued to watch, feeling rage rising through his veins. Curiosity also mixed in his feelings, he knew that the woman had no chance of winning against him, so he was also a little amused.

"What are you planning, lady? Is it really a test? Should I just kill you? Or did you come to deliver some message?”

The woman did not step out of the ruins, she stopped and looked out in the broken colored stained glass windows and silently noted that Maul's former place was empty. The only evidence of a body lying there was that the grass had fallen under the previous burden of his body. She started back to the table without saying a word, but Maul decided it was time to act and took advantage of the surprise to pounce on her.

He moved quickly, like an apex predator, he didn't have to exert much strength, in fact, it was more stressful to hold back his bloodlust.

He pinned the woman from the table to the nearest half-collapsed wall. The brick edge pressed directly on the female's spine, she tried to hold on to the two edges of the wall with both hands, thereby easing the unpleasant "spine support". From the outer side of the wall, the leaves of tall fern and leander bushes caressed their knees. The rays of light from the different positions of the moons shone directly on this point, so Maul could finally see the female's face in a very good lighting.

She tried to resist him, it was almost amusing to Maul, this feeble little struggle in the hope of freedom. Maul's left hand crossed her, pinning her against the wall with his forearm at the top of her chest by the soft column of her collarbone. With his gloved right hand, he grabbed her chin and turned it towards him, lifting it up.

When their eyes met, her eyes didn't widen with alarm or fear, but instead glinted coldly in the moonlight with some surprise and some annoyance. For a quarter of a second, Maul just watched the face, which he had only seen once and yet was mesmerized by it. The woman was doing the same, scanning his face, so he did it without shame. The freckles on her pale skin made her face look youthful, and Maul wanted to connect the light brown dots with his fingers to see what kind of constellation they formed on that pretty face of hers. Her eyes, however, were even more captivating, the iris shone like a cold jade stone, the edge was a few shades darker, as if it had been edged with pieces of lush green emerald. Now they were glinting at him a little defiantly, so Maul looked down at the mouth, which opened slightly to facilitate breathing, since his grip was strong. Tiny vibrations of fear-laced gasp trembled against his hold.

Between pink lips he saw interestingly placed teeth, between the first two front small pearl-colored bones there was a small but regular gap, when she talked it was definitely noticeable. A flaw that made her more unique and served her beauty well.

Those seductive lips began to move, and in a firm voice, as much as the restraint would allow, she spoke.

"As much as I'm enjoying this staring contest, how about you get off me?" Let's say, now!"

Maul was surprised, he didn't feel fear in her voice, well maybe a little, but he definitely didn't see any signs of panic. He didn't feel an overly intense heartbeat under his arm either. Despite the request, he didn't let go, he just loosened his grip a little.

A tendril of anger worked its way to his nerves.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" he asked.

"So you can talk. For a moment I thought you were just communicating by grunting. No one sent me, I came myself, and I mean no harm to you." she didn't collapsed beneath his weight of heavy stare as others did,

“Is that so?”

He leaned closer to her, he was almost chuckling.

"How cute of her. She thought she would have a chance against him."

Nina could almost smell the scent of smoggy city air and salt on his clothes.

He intended his movement as an intimidation, it seemed to work, the young woman uncomfortably tried to back towards the wall, this only made her clothes more dirty, but her gaze was cold and she defiantly resisted, she did not plan to show fear to him. Maul absentmindedly took her braid, his hand amusedly stroking it in his gloved hand, he bet it felt silk soft. He liked this little game, it's much more enjoyable with such a pretty creature.

"Tell me, little starlight, why should I leave your life? Hhmm?"

He not failed to notice her reaction for the nickname he gave her.

"First of all, because I helped."

"That's not good enough." Maul answered and leaned down to inhale the scent of her neck. Sweet cherries, almonds and a hint of mint hit his nose. Delicious! He noticed the goosebumps running on her skin, for his closeness, for his touch. He definitely felt smug, which annoyed her, he can see the glint of annoyance in her captivating irises.

"They're going to look for me.."

"Insignificant." Maul whispered this into her ear. "Little starlight.. Do you know how many stars disappear in a single second?

“Twenty to sixty thousand." She answered surprisingly quickly.

"Very clever one. So answer me. Why should you live? What makes you special? Are you better than those stars? Or are you meant to fade away by my saber?"

He didn't wait for her to answer, the intense eye contact said it all.

“For me, you are rather negligible, small, average.”

It ignited a spark in her. Leaning forward and smiling mockingly, she spoke:

"Oh, really? If I'm so negligible to you, then what was that little scene between us at the club last week? You felt it too, didn't you? I bet you feel it now. This pull between us."

This seemed to have an effect on him, he moved away from her and stormed at least three paces away. He didn't answer, but let out a small growl at her. Now it was Nina's turn to be smug. She began to dust off the debris from her clothes.

"I see we're facing a situation we can easily help. How about a hearing instead of an interrogation? You have questions for me, and I have questions for you. How about exchanging a little information?”

Maul just started then suddenly said:

"I could beat the answers out of you if you'd prefer. "

"Charming offer. That might make me talk, and I will tell you things, and enough of it'll be the truth to make it difficult to weed out the lies. But you won't hurt me. And I'm not kidding, they're really going to be looking for me, which I don't think would be in your best interest."

“And what makes you believe in that? What is my interest?”

"Oh, please don’t try to offend me. I don't need to be a genius to figure out that you're either hiding or either trying to get low from something. Not many people come here to this old mention, nor has a ship that just turns invisible with a device."

Maul noticed that the woman's dress was actually pine green and not black; he also noticed that the white stones on the top edge of the high neckline sparkled, as did the belt of the pants. He also noticed the milky skin on her stomach exposed by the short top. She was such a pretty thing. It would be extremely easy to end her life now, nevertheless…

“So what do you think? Mysterious guy from the club?”

Maul held out a gloved hand to help her down to the level next to him.

"That you are brave enough to act when you are about to die."

She accepted his hand. If Maul was expecting the feeling of the warmth of the hand, he was to be disappointed, freezing cold fingertips smoothed over his glove.

She was shorter than him even in heels, but she didn't have to raise her head too high to look into his eyes. Finally, she walked back to the table and sat down in one of the gothic style chairs, beckoning Maul to the one across from her, like if she’s the host in this castle. When she noticed Maul is not gonna sit down and just stays in silence, she began.

Mood board made by me, pictures are from Pinterest.

next chapter

Taglist: @stardustbee @hellhound5925 @cloneloverrrrr @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @firstofficerwiggles

Let me know if you want to be added 💖

#star wars #darth maul #oc nina cerasus #nika's writing #darth maul x oc nina cerasus #maul x nina #original character #backstory #my fic writing #naboo #romantic story #star crossed the fic #star crossed lovers #star-crossed #tragic love story #before the phantom menance

11 notes · View notes

qvnthesia · 11 months ago

Note

It’s been a bit of a rough year for you (and us), but throughout that, you’ve managed to build many OCs and outlines. What’s your thought process while you make character profiles and backgrounds? Where do you start and how much of it is intentional/planned?

(my reaction the second i finished reading the question)

While we definitely be hanging onto our lifespans, I indeed have somehow managed to create a grand total of 10 OCs (yes, I just checked the number and my eyes just went 👀).

Special spoilers for ye faithful and ever-loving readers of mine — the OCs belong from a range of fandoms, which are Marvel, Fantastic Beasts, the Hunger Games, Star Wars, X-Men, and Kingsman 😏

(coming back to the main point)

Why OCs?

I got frustrated and cringed out by the use of Y/N — and still do. Honestly, there are so many stories I've read that have impeccable structure and flow... until I have to read things like 'why-en' and 'why-slash-e-slash-see' (y/e/c) and it just distrupts the overall imagery you're building up in your head as a reader/writer and just sounds extremely stilted when it's overused.

This is THE main reason why I'm also going to be re-writing two fics of mine, replacing 'Y/N' with proper OCs, because I'm just too tired and embarassed of employing the usage of the term.

What’s your thought process while you make character profiles and backgrounds? Where do you start?

Suppose I'm writing a fic oriented around Obi-Wan Kenobi and a female OC during the Clone Wars time period. Here's how my thought process goes.

[Note that all of these points have to executed TOGETHER in order to create a satisfactory OC.]

Make your OC subtly unique. Whenever people tend to write OC fics, they always make the OC stand out to the reader, characters and the fic universe, which isn't supposed to happen. Part of creating an OC is to make them unique to the characters at the beginning of the story. That's it. A common example is that a majority of the OCs always end up having a double-bladed lightsaber with an uncommon colour. While that may look aesthetic, that just makes them stand out from a physical perspective. That's not the point - make them stand out from an internal perspective, i.e., by their thoughts and their problems. After all, your characters drive your story ahead - like when Anakin chose to kneel before Sidious, and when Luke chose to throw away his weapon because he wanted to be a Jedi just like his father before him.

Establish your OC's future relationships. They do say the company you keep ends up defining you and your choices. If I'm making my Star Wars OC a Sith, the logical thing for the OC would be in association with Sidious, Maul, Dooku, or the Separatists. If the OC is a Jedi, than a logical association would be to be childhood friends with Obi-Wan if you're going for friends to lovers, or a (former) padawan under Mace Windu and indulge in a rivals to lovers dynamic - or if you love the age-gap thang, you could have a master-padawan dynamic with the OC being a sister/friend to Anakin and Ahsoka.

Assign a set of characteristics to your OC — even the physical look. Why I'm saying this because while you're creating an OC, racial dynamics always matter. You can't run away from them, because they are a reflection of problems in reality - which are what all stories are in some manner or the other. How you create the look is a method unique to you.

Coin a name for an OC that tunes in with the vibe of your fic's universe and your character's personality. When you say 'Oh-bee-wan-key-no-bee', it's like a rhyme - there's a sense of synchronicity felt in the name when you say it. You can feel the same when you say Ahsoka Tano, and (-going off-universe-) Steve Rogers, Raven Darkhölme, Cersei Lannister, Darth Vader, Haymitch Abernathy, Natasha Romanoff, Theseus Scamander, etc. You could add middle names [Lucy Gray Baird], use alliterative names [Peter Parker] or use nicknames [Eggsy Unwin]. Names with meaning are also appreciated, but as long as they smoothly roll-off the tongue [Perseus 'Percy' Jackson] - even a ridiculous one, like Lester Papadopoulos, gets pulled off if it rolls off well.

Flesh out your OC. Strengths, weakness, potential reactions to seeing characters and being put in risky situations, everything. The more you get to know your character - and the in-universe lore - the more you can write them well.

Make it make sense - if your OC's as committed as a Jedi than Obi-Wan, maybe even more, why? What's their reason? What drives their spirit? If your OC's destined to be the most powerful Sith in existence and be a threat to Sidious' potential, how and why? What were the circumstances? The backstory? Don't go ahead and make your OC a messiah out of nowhere with no logical explanation. It's not just the backstory, but also the character's internal drive of morals, limitations and decision-making that make up the character's strengths and flaws.

P.S. Plotting is 10000% recommended, but as I said, the method/process is always unique to you.

'How you create the look is a method unique to you' - what methods do you use?

There are certain actresses/actors that always end up coming in my mind when I'm in the middle of creating an OC. Thing is, I'm comfortable with using present actresses/actors because I know the boundary between the character and the actor. I only use them for the look and the action scenes, nothing more. I also use ChatGPT (input a prompt and adjust it to my needs) to seek suggestions since I'm picturing real-life people as the physical manifestation of my OC.

If you're not comfortable with my methods, that's okay! You can use any illustrations or random face-claims you find, it's YOUR character and YOUR story 💖🎀

And finally...

...how much of it is intentional/planned?

It always begins as planned, but then I plot the story and eventually it becomes 50% planned and 50% intentional/instinctual.

Thank you for your ask <33 Have a lovely day/night ahead!

5 notes · View notes

druigs-wife · 3 years ago

Text

MY TAGLIST 📝

𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐞 💬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝

26 notes · View notes

thegreatwicked · 1 year ago

Text

Meditations: A Moment in Time in a Galaxy that Never Was

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

@decembermidnightso it begins...

@maulfvckers @5ush1w0rm

25 notes · View notes