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I just read a quote from Anne Rice about how she loved writing about vampires because she saw them as “the outcast, the predator in all of us - the lonely one. The heart and soul that burns with passion.” I’m now desperate for a Vampire!Maul fic ❤️🔥
Imagine you’re traveling with the nightbrothers and need a place to stay for the night but there’s only one bed 👀
The Nightbrothers - One Bed Trope
includes: Maul, Savage, Icarus, Scorn, Feral x jedi gn reader
warnings: it’s a little rough and tough, these babies are like wild cats you guys, you can’t tame them, no rules.
note: I yapped too much again, but its fun thoo :^)
Darth Maul
Your vision blurred and everything went quiet as your head slammed against the wall with unforgiving force. You weakly reached for him as your knees gave out beneath you, barely managing to hold onto his robes before collapsing anyway. For a second everything went dark. The next, you were on the floor, unable to move, unable to speak, just staring blankly at his boots in front of you.
“If we’re done here,” Maul says coldly, “I sure would like you to join me. Despite how adorable you look on the floor.”
And with that, he simply walks away and collapses onto the bed.
It’s been a long day. You’ve spent hours arguing with him, trying to get him to snap out of whatever homicidal spiral he’s currently trapped in. The two of you are stranded in the middle of nowhere, and the old inn you found only had one room left. One room. One very small bed.
He’s already irritated that despite the tension and obvious attraction between the two of you, nothing concrete happened yet. And now this, on top of the fight, only one bed and you, you and your stubbornness.
Part of him genuinely cannot understand it.
He wishes you would just forget the horrible things he does somehow. Just trust him already. In his mind, he is treating you well. Putting aside the murder and emotional instability, he believes himself to be quite the gentleman. He’d never touch you inappropriately unless you asked for it? Clearly that should count for something?!
His thoughts start spiraling so badly he begins muttering under his breath, almost arguing with himself again.
Meanwhile, you somehow manage to drag yourself upright. Dizzy, exhausted, you stumble toward the bed, you lower yourself onto the floor beside it, pressing your back against the mattress.
Blood drips slowly from your nose. You wipe it away with your knuckles, sniffling quietly as another drop lands on the floorboards.
“When will you stop behaving like a child…” Maul hisses. “I know you’re bleeding. I can smell it.”
With an irritated sigh, he pushes himself off the bed and sits down beside you on the floor. He reaches for your face and despite you flinching away instinctively, he grabs your jaw anyway, turning your head toward him.
His fingers wiping the remaining blood from beneath your nose before he tilts your head upward, inspecting you carefully.
“You’ll be fine in no time,” he mutters. “You’re a tough little thing.”
He pats lightly at your cheek before leaning back against the side of the bed, pulling you down against his shoulder with him as he settles lower onto the floor, trying to get comfortable.
The two of you end up falling asleep like that against the side of the bed, while the actual bed remains completely unused.xD
Somewhere in the middle of the night, Maul suddenly stirs.
Before you can even properly wake up, one strong arm hooks around your waist and drags you upward with him onto the mattress.
You let out a startled noise immediately, half asleep and confused as he pulls you tightly against his chest beneath the blankets.
“Maul..”
“Oh hush,” he mutters tiredly. “You’re freezing.”
You weakly struggle, still disoriented from being woken up so suddenly, but his grip only tightens around you possessively.
“No,” he grumbles against the top of your head before you can protest properly. “We are not sleeping on the floor, I allowed it long enough.”
You squirm again anyway.Not only to get away but because hes holding onto you too tightly now, and he knows it too.
“Stop fighting me,” he says, sounding almost amused this time. And annoyingly enough, the second you stop resisting, he relaxes slightly too.
“Fine” you mumble, “I’ll stay, just let me turn towards you”
Then immediately his hold loosens just enough for you to shift. The second you settle facing him beneath the blankets, something in his expression changes completely. Satisfaction.
His yellow eyes stay fixed on your face like he genuinely cannot believe he managed to get you here.One hand remains around your waist beneath the blanket while the other comes up slowly to your face, gently patting along your cheek and jaw.
“You see?” he murmurs quietly. “This is much better.”
You roll your eyes a little, but neither of you actually move away.
You start talking quietly about nothing important, mostly just tired rambling to fill the silence, but halfway through one of your sentences you realize he isn’t even responding anymore.
He’s just staring at you.
His thumb slowly brushes beneath your eye while he listens with this weirdly fond look on his face, memorizing every expression you make.
“What?” you mumble self consciously.
“Nothing.”
But the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth says otherwise.
And every time you shift even slightly farther away while talking, his arm around your waist immediately pulls you right back closer again.
Savage Opress
The two of you just stand there silently by the door, staring at the tiny bed shoved into the corner of the dark little room.
Neither of you move.
Savage’s yellow eyes flick between you and the bed again, visibly nervous already. Even through the dim lighting you can see the faint blush spreading across his face markings.
“How are we gonna fit in there?” he asks finally, in the most genuinely confused tone imaginable.
“We??” you immediately snap your head toward him. “There is no we. I’m taking the bed.”
“Oh…right. Yeah.” He clears his throat awkwardly, ears warming even more. “That’s... that’s what I meant.”
You stare at him. It sooo was the hell not what he meant.
He basically just exposed himself completely. Somewhere in that giant head of his, he already assumed the two of you would naturally be sleeping together. Not even in a smooth way either, he just genuinely didn’t think about it.
In reality, Savage doesn’t fully understand why you wouldn’t sleep together. You travel together. Protect each other. Eat together. Stay close constantly. In his mind, sharing a bed just feels... normal.
But now he realizes you think about these things way more.
“Yeah...” he mutters awkwardly, rubbing the back of one horn. “I’ll just sleep on the floor then.”
The problem is the second he says it, you feel bad for him.
Because the floor is cold ;c And he’s... well..Savage.
You try not to look at him while he quietly starts removing pieces of his armor, pretending not to care. Pretending he didn’t accidentally confess that he wants to sleep next to you.
Finally you sigh dramatically. “You better not crush me.”
Savage freezes mid movement. “What?”
“The bed,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. “We can share it. Just... stay on your side.”
The way his entire expression softens is almost embarrassing. For someone so terrifying, he suddenly looks weirdly shy.
He climbs into bed with extra caution, moving slowly like he’s scared the mattress might break beneath him. The second both of you settle, it becomes immediately obvious the bed is way too small anyway.
His arm is pressed against yours. One of his legs hangs halfway off the mattress. His chest rises and falls heavily right beside you.
And despite being the one taking up most of the space somehow, he still tries making himself smaller for you.
“You comfortable?” he whispers after a while.
You barely manage to mumble a quiet “mhm.”
Less than couple of minutes later, you feel him carefully shift closer in the darkness, just enough for his warmth to fully surround you. He physically couldn’t resist it anymore.
At some point during the night, after both of you finally drift off, Savage rolls over in his sleep.
Or at least that’s what it feels like at first.
One second you’re comfortable, the next there’s an enormous weight pressing down onto you hard enough to force a startled squeal out of your throat.
“Savage!”
His massive arm is suddenly across your waist, one heavy leg trapping yours beneath it while his chest presses against you enough to completely pin you into the mattress.
You struggle immediately. “Savage, you’re crushing me!”
No response.
His breathing stays slow and heavy against your shoulder like he’s completely asleep.
Except…
The second you try shoving against him harder, you feel him shift even closer. Your eyes narrow instantly.
“Oh my god. You’re awake.”
As soon as you say that, you feel the twitch of amusement against your neck.
“You’re warm,” he mumbles sleepily, voice rough and deep.
“You’re doing this on purpose!”
Savage only hums quietly in response before suddenly shifting again, this time fully draping himself over you with zero shame. You burst into helpless laughter immediately as his weight completely traps you beneath him now.
“Savage!!”
“What?” he mutters innocently, though the grin in his voice is painfully obvious.
“You’re squishing me!”
“You survived.”
“That’s not the point!”
You try pushing at his shoulders, but it’s genuinely useless. He barely even moves beneath your hands. If anything, he seems entertained by your struggling now. A quiet rumbling laugh vibrates through his chest as you keep attempting to shove him off.
“You’re very aggressive for someone this tiny,” he murmurs.
“Oh, shut up”
You attempt to squirm away again and immediately regret it because his weight presses down on you even harder, locking you even more firmly underneath him.
Meanwhile Savage looks entirely too pleased with himself.
“You done fighting yet?” he asks softly.
“No.”
And despite saying that, you eventually stop resisting anyway, mostly because you’re exhausted and embarrassingly comfortable pinned beneath all his warmth.
The second you relax against him, Savage lets out this deeply satisfied little sigh and nuzzles his face closer into your shoulder.
Icarus
Doesn’t even acknowledge the whole one bed situation at first.
He just moves slowly through the room like it doesn’t matter. Setting his weapons aside. Taking off pieces of gear one by one. Lighting the fire. Then disappearing into the shower long enough for steam to start curling beneath the door.
Kind of keeps himself busy on purpose.
In reality, he already knows both of you are ending up in that bed one way or another. He’s just giving you the easier version of it. Letting you settle into the idea yourself instead of cornering you with it.
By the time you’ve changed out of your wet clothes and curled up awkwardly near the edge of the mattress, he’s seated across the room near the fire, elbows resting on his knees as he works on fixing his com link.
Then finally, unable to handle the silence anymore, you mumble nervously,
“So um… one bed, huh…”
“Go ahead,” he responds immediately, not even letting you finish whatever embarrassed explanation you were about to force out.
So you climb into bed alone while he stays by the fire working in silence. Every now and then he glances toward you without really lifting his head, fingers still moving over the small gadget in his hands.
He just wants you to relax first. Gives you the space to figure out which side of the bed you prefer, lets you get a feeling of the space. (Meanwhile probably also gathering the courage to join you but we will pretend that he’s just too chill about it.)
And eventually exhaustion starts winning. Your eyes grow heavy. The fire crackles softly in the room. Then finally you hear movement. Your eyes flutter open immediately.
Icarus is standing beside the bed now.
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tease you. Doesn’t point out the way you instantly tense beneath his stare. He just lifts the blanket slowly and climbs in beside you.
The mattress dips hard beneath his weight. And your breath catches immediately.
He’s warm. His bare skin practically radiates heat in the cold room, muscles shifting beneath dark markings as he settles onto his side beside you.
And even then, he still keeps distance between you, doesn’t want to overwhelm you.
He simply turns his back toward you afterward, one arm tucked beneath his head, breathing steady within minutes like he’s already half asleep.
In reality he’s suffering. Because now all he can think about is you. Your skin. Your scent. The fact that you’re right there. Close enough to touch. And you keep shifting around trying to get comfortable, every tiny movement just makes him more aware of you instead.
Eventually the mattress shifts suddenly.
Before you can react, Icarus turns toward you and grabs you firmly with one arm, pulling you straight against his chest.
You gasp quietly at the sudden movement.
“There,” he mutters sleepily against the top of your head. “Stop moving.”
“I wasn’t”
“You’ve been wiggling around for the last hour.”
His arm tightens around your waist before you can protest again, holding you completely still against him. One of his hands settles low against your side, fingers flexing once absentmindedly like he’s testing whether you’ll try escaping.
You can practically feel your heartbeat trying to escape your chest now. And the worst part is he acts completely unaffected by it. Like dragging you flush against his body was the most natural thing in the world.
“You’re cold,” he murmurs after a while, voice rough and low.
His hand now spread possessively against your waist. Leg hooked over yours to keep you from moving again. Every time you shift even slightly afterward, his grip just tightens.
Just enough to remind you he’s aware of every movement you make.
Scorn
The second you notice there’s only one bed, you immediately start talking like your life depends on it.
“No no okay wait, we can just take turns,” you ramble quickly, already pacing around the tiny room. “Like, one of us sleeps first and then we switch later, or maybe we could make some kind of wall in the middle?”
You grab one of the pillows.
“Like this maybe…although actually this bed is way too small for that to work”
Meanwhile Scorn is just standing there listening to you.. Arms crossed over his chest. Trying very hard not to smile. Because this is adorable to him.
The way you’re stumbling over your words, refusing to look directly at him, getting increasingly flustered over the idea of sharing a bed with him specifically. To Scorn, all of this just confirms what he already suspected. You like him.
Maybe you don’t say it out loud yet, but your nervousness gives you away horribly. And he enjoys watching it way too much.
“Mhm,” he hums casually while you continue overexplaining your entire bedtime strategy like it’s a military operation.
Eventually, with a dramatic sigh, you hand him a pillow.
“You take the chair first,” you mumble. “Then we switch later.”
Scorn glances toward the tiny chair shoved in the corner of the room. Then back at you. There is no way his giant ass fits there comfortably, but somehow he still manages not to laugh.
“Alright,” he says smoothly.
At first, he lets you have it your way.
Lets you curl up in the bed while he sits in the chair across the room, one leg stretched out while he quietly watches the fire crackle low in the darkness. Every now and then his eyes drift toward you.
Watching you slowly relax. Watching you fall asleep. And once he’s sure you’re fully out, he finally stands.
The floor creaks softly beneath his weight as he crosses the room. You shift a little in your sleep when the mattress dips behind you, but you don’t wake.
Then slowly, carefully, he slides one arm around your waist and pulls you back against his chest. Instinctively. Like he’s wanted to do it all night.
Your body melts against him immediately from exhaustion, warm beneath the blankets, and Scorn has to close his eyes for a second just to stay normal about it.
Because fuck.
The feeling of having your back pressed against him nearly kills him instantly.
His face lowers into the crook of your neck, breathing slow and controlled despite how tense his whole body suddenly feels. One of his large hands spreads against your stomach while he holds you close, fingers lightly grazing the fabric of your shirt.
You stir slightly. His grip tightens immediately.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs softly against your neck.
The problem is he’s the one who’s absolutely not sleeping. Not with you tucked against him like this. Not when every tiny movement you make presses more of your body against his.
Scorn physically freezes.
And when you unconsciously relax further back against him afterward, he lets out the quietest, most tortured sigh imaginable into your skin. Trying so hard to stay calm.
Trying even harder not to think about how perfectly you fit there.
Feral
The second he realizes there’s only one bed, Feral immediately blurts out,
“I’ll take the floor.”
Almost suspiciously fast. Because in reality, he absolutely does not want the floor. He wants to be in the bed with you so badly it’s painful, he just refuses to admit it.
So instead he kind of tries to charm you into suggesting it instead.
You lay in bed while he settles onto the floor beside you, leaning back against the mattress with his arms crossed behind his head casually. At first he talks about random things, mostly nonsense honestly, but little by little he starts inching closer.
His head ends up resting against the edge of the bed near your thigh while he looks up at you with those huge yellow eyes trying to appear innocent. Which would maybe work better if he wasn’t smiling like that.
“You’re staring,” you mumble eventually.
“Mhm.”
“And?”
“You’re pretty.”
You roll your eyes immediately while he grins to himself.
Every now and then his hand comes up to poke your arm lazily, or lightly tap against your knee while joking around. Once, while laughing at something you said, he reaches up and briefly grabs your wrist dramatically before letting go again like he just needed an excuse to touch you.
Hes just so obvious. And eventually you sigh,
“You really don’t have to sleep on the floor, you know.”
Feral immediately looks up at you.
“We can just share the bed.”
The excitement that flashes across his face is almost embarrassing. Like its genuinely impossible for him to hide how happy he is. But then he catches himself and tries acting normal again, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“…Are you sure?”
“You literally look like you’ve been waiting for me to say that all night.”
“No I haven’t.”
And the second you scoot over to make room, he’s climbing into the bed beside you almost suspiciously fast for someone pretending not to care.
Still, once he’s there, he suddenly becomes careful. He keeps close to the edge. Doesn’t spread out much. Moves slowly like he’s trying not to scare you off now that he actually got what he wanted.
But despite that, he keeps making these tiny little movements on purpose. His arm brushes yours. Then his knee lightly bumps against your thigh. Then while shifting beneath the blanket his fingers drag softly along your forearm for half a second too long.
Seeing what you’ll allow.
“You smell nice,” he murmurs quietly after a while, laying on his side facing you. His eyes stay fixed on your face the entire time when he says it too.
You can feel yourself getting warm under the attention.
“So do you,” you mumble back before thinking.
Feral visibly lights up at that. “You think so?”
There’s something so ridiculously eager about the way he asks it that you can’t help laughing softly. And apparently that’s his favorite sound in the world because he immediately scoots a tiny bit closer again.
Now your faces are way too close.
The blanket shifts softly between you as his hand slowly finds yours beneath it, his fingers curl loosely with yours.
“There,” he whispers smugly. “Now this feels right.”
And after that he spends the rest of the night finding increasingly ridiculous excuses to touch you. He acts playful about the whole thing, but it’s painfully obvious he’s absolutely obsessed with being close to you.
CALLING ALL MAUL FREAKS!!!!
Hi, I have a question for you 😛
For all of us who are concerningly obsessed with Maul (to say the very least), what do we call ourselves? Do we have a group name? I've said Maul girlies, but he's attracting girls guys and gays at this point, so that's not accurate. Name ideas anyone??
I feel like I was made for this 😂
Maulrats
Maulunteers
Maulnurished
The Maul Collective
Horny for Zabraks
Certified Kenobi Resenters
Maulfunctioning
Fandom Menaces
Mentally Maultered
shall I go on? 🤭
Maul x Reader || Drabble 1 || fluff & angst
Star Wars Masterlist
A/N: This came to me after writing a smutty one-shot, and since it didn't exactly fit the scenario in that one, I decided to write this one. It's very short and a bit of my headcanon about how Maul would react to you saying you love him. Anyway, sorry the requests are taking so long. I promise I'm working on them, my finals are just very draining.
Warnings: Implied sex before the story (you're having post-sex cuddles) but nothing too explicit, a bit of a mental breakdown, Maul is not mentally stable at all, that's probably not how the Force works but idc, not proofread, no beta we die like everyone in this damn show, my terrible writing, ‼️personal opinions‼️
Content warnings: gender neutral Reader as always; Maul has massive trust issues; probably a little ooc Maul?; this is pretty short, just one scene; it also assumes that you've already been in a relationship for a long time, and Maul trusts you enough to let his guard down, at least partially
Word count: 668
Summary: You tell Maul you love him for the first time. For him, it's the first time those words were ever directed at him.
Reblogs are very appreciated, since it helps my posts reach more people, and motivates me to continue writing 🫶
Thinking about how Maul spends so much time just trying to make friends and then being either told "no, go away" or forced to watch his new friends die. He genuinely cares about the people he's working with; he's upset when they get hurt or die, he's out here acting as a living shield between them and danger, and it always ends terribly for everyone. Like damn can he have just one good, healthy, stable friendship that actually lasts, please?
If you're seeing this post that means it's Darth Maul's Beauty Appreciation Hour™️
Appreciate his beauty
I don't think I'd truly comprehended how much damage Maul took
Like that's insane damage; a gap that's about 4 inches long and as deep as HALF HIS THIGH. And yet HE KEPT FIGHTING.
What a guy
Yknow I find it so funny how many people simp for Maul considering the origin of his design was basically
George Lucas: ok make this bitch the SCARIEST mf you could ever imagine. The thing of nightmares. The thing that stares ominously at you on the edge of your bed when you're having sleep paralysis
Iain McCaig: *makes design*
George Lucas: ...
George Lucas: ok maybe tone it down a bit because this is a family movie do the SECOND scariest thing from your nightmares instead
Iain McCaig: *makes Darth Maul's design*
George Lucas: perfect. This is it. He looks horrifying. I'm sure everyone, kids and adults alike, will quiver with fear and disgust at this character desi--
The Fandom: p-pretyy...
George Lucas: wait what
Maul being a cat dad is something I never knew I needed but here we are.
A version where there's no bickering and these Force outcasts can manage being nice to each other for a second:
I had a dream last night that I ran a Lothcat shelter and adopted out cats to all the characters in need of peace. It was beautiful 🥲
Maul with a pet cat - headcanon
finds a horrific looking stray in literal garbage. its missing an eye, and is completely starved.
he sees it scrounging for food, walks a few paces, trying to ignore it, then stops.
annoyed at himself, he turns back.
the cat hisses, tiny and fierce.
Maul hisses back.
Thinking about how Maul would fuck slow and gentle, with tender touches and hushed praises. Holding himself back because he’s so scared of causing any harm. You’re the only thing he allows himself to hold close. You are the most precious thing in the galaxy and he could never live with himself if he inflicted any pain upon you. So he clings to the control he’s carefully, painstakingly crafted over the years. Even with you writhing beneath him, begging and pleading with him for more. He does not falter. At least…not until you utter the words “my lord”. Then his control shatters and he’s pounding into you uttering the filthiest shit imaginable.
was messing with some new brushes and so. i have this now
This poster has me thinking things that would've driven me to be burned at the stake in the 1800s
This is extremely accurate to what it feels like whenever he breathes a singular syllable
I’m only halfway through a little thing I’ve been working on and I have to keep taking breaks because this is kind of tough 😅
Hello! I love your nightbrother headcanons!!! They make me so happy and they are amazing as well >:)
Could I request boyfriend headcanons for the Nightbrothers with a plus size s/o? And maybe what they would be like if their s/o had some insecurities regarding their weight (For example, Maul wants them to sit on his lap but they’re afraid of hurting him because they’re a heavier person? Or one of the boys is out with their s/o in public and they hear snickers because s/o is plus size and their partner is not?) Thank you so much for your time and I hope you have a beautiful day/night!
Hearing that you guys enjoy what I write and that it makes your day even a little bit better, keeps me going!🖤Thank you for your request! Enjoy!
The Nightbrothers - with a plus size s/o 🖤
warnings: mentions of body shaming
Darth Maul
Deeply spiritual and drawn to the architecture of a person’s mind long before anything physical. He doesn’t strike me as someone who notices bodies first, regardless of shape or size. Appearance alone would never be enough to truly catch his attention; his thoughts exist somewhere far beyond the surface level of attraction. In fact, knowing Maul, his interest in you would probably begin through some ulterior motive or calculated curiosity rather than romance itself. But over time, as he learns you piece by piece, something shifts in him almost against his own will.
And once Maul falls, he falls catastrophically.
That’s when he begins noticing everything. The softness of you, the warmth of you, the comfort of your presence. He develops this near obsessive appreciation for every part of your body because to him, you become art in its purest form.
Starts commissioning paintings and sculptures inspired by you, wanting your image immortalized in grand dramatic ways. Sometimes he’d have you lounging nearby while he works through plans or speaks aloud to himself, pacing the room in circles, absentmindedly trailing his hand across your waist or thighs every time he passes. Not even out of lust half the time, more like grounding himself through your presence.
Loves having you in his lap too. Not in a teasing way, but more like.. possessive, like your weight against him calms something restless in his mind. The second you try to get up, his hands tighten around you immediately.
“Stay.”
That low dangerous tone softens just slightly when it’s directed at you.
“Do you have any idea how comforting you are to me?”
And as he notices everything about you, he also notices your insecurities pretty fast. He’s observant to a fault. Even if he personally finds society’s standards irrational and insignificant, he still recognizes when they’ve hurt you
If someone throws a comment your way, Maul does not let it slide quietly. The room goes dead silent the second he turns his attention toward them. The verbal destruction is worse than the violence that comes after.
He picks the person apart. Every insecurity, every weakness in their character, every pathetic little contradiction in the way they carry themselves, he exposes it all publicly and mercilessly. His voice stays controlled while he dismantles them piece by piece until they look genuinely humiliated standing there. By the end of it, they’re practically praying for the floor to open beneath them.
Then comes the sharp flick of his hand.
The Force wraps around their throat instantly, lifting them just enough to send panic flooding into their expression before he slams them violently back into the ground without even breaking eye contact.
All while standing beside you like a dark furious god defending something sacred.
Afterward, though, his attention shifts back to you immediately. The rage melts into something quieter the second he notices your expression. One hand comes to your waist, pulling you against him possessively as he lowers his voice.
“No one speaks about you that way in my presence.”
He becomes almost suffocatingly attentive for weeks after, constantly pulling you close, praising you with this intense sincerity that feels like devotion.
I could even see him trying to reshape entire spaces around you without realizing how extreme he’s becoming about it. Surrounding himself with art, fashion, statues, paintings, all inspired by your body type because in his eyes you represent abundance, softness, beauty, divinity. To Maul, nobody could ever truly replicate you anyway. People could imitate the aesthetic all they wanted, but they could never recreate your mind, and that’s the part of you he worships most.
Savage Opress
Absolutely fell for you at first sight and then spent the rest of his life pretending he has any self control about it. He’s quite physical by nature, instinct driven in a way that makes his attraction impossible to hide. The second he’s drawn to someone, it shows in everything he does. His hands are always on you, pulling you closer, lifting you into his lap, carrying you around without even thinking about it. He’s huge, so your weight means absolutely nothing to him physically, if anything, he prefers feeling more of you against him.
Adores your curves shamelessly.
The man is obsessed with touching you. Wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, gripping your sides possessively, resting his head against your belly after exhausting days like it’s the only place he can finally calm down. There’s something deeply comforting to him about softness, something grounding and intimate that awakens this protective, animalistic side of him. He doesn’t just find you attractive, he treats your body like something precious, something he genuinely craves closeness to at all times.
Which is exactly why it hits him so hard when he realizes you’re insecure about the very things he loves most.
At first, he genuinely doesn’t know how to process it. In his mind, your body is beautiful so obviously that the idea of you seeing it differently confuses him. But Savage understands insecurity more than people realize. His own body was violently altered in such a short amount of time, transformed into something unfamiliar and painful. I think he carries deep discomfort about that, the roughness of his skin, the scars and stretch marks left behind from the change, constantly feeling too large, too monstrous, too unnatural.
So when he traces your stretch marks with his fingers, there’s this quiet fascination in his expression. Because the things you criticize about yourself look soft and beautiful to him. So human.. so warm and alive.
He’s not very good with words normally, but I think this would be one of the rare situations where he genuinely tries to say the right thing, find the right words. Telling you about his own insecurities in a hesitant, awkward way just so you don’t feel alone in yours. And once the two of you cross that line of vulnerability together, his protectiveness becomes even more intense afterward.
If somebody ever insults you in front of him, the atmosphere changes instantly. One look from Savage is usually enough to make people regret speaking at all, but realistically… it rarely ends there. He takes it personally. Deeply personally. Not just because they hurt you, but because he cannot comprehend anyone looking at you and seeing something worthy of mockery instead of worship. It always ends up being messy..in a fist fight, he’s really not the best at self control in general, especially if someone messed with you.
Afterward he’d hover around you constantly, visibly worried you’re still thinking about it. Pulling you into his chest every few minutes, pressing little kisses against your forehead, cheeks, shoulders, anywhere and everywhere really, just like trying to cover you in his love.
“You’d tell me if you were hurting, yes?”
And even if you insist you’re fine, he still spends the rest of the night holding onto you tighter than usual, unable to fully relax until he feels you melting back into him again.
Icarus
His attraction is very specific and deeply intentional. He’s the type to fall in love with very particular kinds of people, not just physically but emotionally too. So if he loves you, it means you fit into that hidden place in his mind perfectly. He probably noticed you long before you ever realized he was paying attention.
He studies people quietly.
Your habits, your routines, the way your body changes with stress or comfort, the little unconscious things you do when you’re tired, upset, overstimulated, happy. He memorizes all of it without even trying to; the exact moment your smile becomes forced, or when your posture shifts because you suddenly feel bad.
And he loves every single part of you for it.
Hes very protective too. Not loudly like Savage, or possessively like Maul, but in this controlled, watchful way that feels even more intense. Like he’s constantly aware of the possibility of the world hurting you and is always mentally preparing for it.
When you open up about your insecurities, he listens quietly, nervously fidgeting with his hands while you talk because hearing you speak badly about yourself genuinely unsettles him. He hates that the world managed to convince you that softness or weight could ever diminish your beauty. You can practically see anger building up behind his eyes, but he swallows it down because he doesn’t want to overwhelm you further.
Instead he just pulls you against him tightly, holding you there for a long moment like he’s trying to physically shield you from every cruel thing ever said to you.
And if you insult yourself too harshly? He’d probably respond with this dangerous little look before pulling you into his lap and muttering something low and firm against your skin.
“Don’t talk about yourself like that again.”
There’s definitely a darker edge to his affection too, the kind that comes out through control, teasing, restraint, wanting to overwhelm you with attention until you forget every awful thing you believed about yourself. …Basically you might get punished for being mean to yourself, he’ll show you mean! ;P
And if somebody throws a comment at you, I don’t think he’d make a dramatic scene. He cares too much about you and doesn’t want extra attention onto the whole thing. But the look he gives them is enough to make their blood run cold. Completely silent, completely lethal. The kind of stare that promises he hasn’t forgotten their face.
Later that night, you’d notice him watching you more carefully than usual.
Teasing you softly just to see if you laugh the same way you normally do. Checking your reactions. Looking for any sign that the comment is still sitting heavy in your chest. The second he senses even the slightest shift in your mood, he moves closer immediately, taking your hand and rubbing his thumb across your knuckles absentmindedly before leaning down to murmur quietly:
“I wish you’d see yourself with my eyes.”
Scorn
Genuinely loves all of you, and your body is no exception to that. I imagine him as someone deeply indulgent by nature, the type who experiences love through physical closeness and comfort more than anything else. Being around you becomes one of his favorite forms of pleasure. Endless cuddling, long lazy makeout sessions, constantly pulling you into his chest just because he wants to feel you there. He could spend entire days tangled up with you and still act like he hasn’t gotten enough.
And the contrast between you two is something he adores privately.
He’s all sharp edges, muscle, roughness, while you feel soft and warm against him in a way that completely melts him. I feel like Scorn would become deeply attached to the feeling of you specifically. The shape of your waist beneath his hands, the softness of your thighs pressed against him, the way your body sinks perfectly into his when he holds you close. It comforts him more than he knows how to explain.
Especially loves when you wear soft fabrics, thin silks, oversized robes, anything his hands can easily slip beneath while he’s holding you. Half the time he touches you almost instinctively, like he’s reassuring himself you’re always there. His palms wandering slowly across your sides, your stomach, your hips, memorizing every inch of you through touch alone.
He’s obsessed in the gentlest way possible.
The scent of you after sleeping against him for hours. The warmth of your skin. The softness of your body compared to his. He experiences all of it so intensely that it becomes addictive to him. Loving you becomes tied to comfort, safety, peace.
Which is exactly why seeing you insecure hurts him so badly.
The problem is that Scorn doesn’t fully trust himself to say the right thing. His first instinct is to overwhelm you with affection and compliments because to him your beauty feels painfully obvious, but he also understands that insecurities run deeper than a few sweet words can fix. So instead of dismissing your feelings, he listens carefully. Lets you speak without interrupting. Holds your face gently between his hands while you talk, thumbs brushing softly over your cheeks the entire time.
And the more vulnerable you are with him, the more tender he becomes.
Squishing your cheeks lightly before leaning in to kiss you slowly, almost like he’s trying to pour reassurance directly into you.
“You couldn’t possibly be more perfect,” he murmurs quietly against your lips. “The universe would not survive it.”
He also has these tiny little habits that become second nature around you. Giving your cheeks a gentle squeeze, then your shoulders, then your arms before taking your hands in his and squeezing them a few times. Little grounding gestures. Like he’s constantly reminding both of you that you’re together.
Most people are too intimidated to say anything at all when Scorn is nearby. He’s always watchful around you without even realizing it, standing close, always scanning the room, always looking threatening to anyone who stares too long.
But if someone does hurt you when he isn’t there, and he notices you quieter afterward?
It devastates him.
You can literally see the anger simmering under his skin, but he forces himself to stay calm because your feelings matter more to him than his rage in that moment. He just pulls you close, lets you vent everything out against his chest, rubbing your back gently while asking suspiciously detailed questions about whoever upset you.
“What did they look like?”
And the way he asks it makes it very obvious he’s already considering tracking them down later.
Feral
Treats you like something sacred. Not even in a dramatic metaphorical way either, he literally looks at you with the kind of devotion people reserve for gods. Every curve of your body feels precious to him. He loves the weight of you leaning against him, the warmth, the pressure, the softness, all of it makes him feel grounded and safe in a way he’s never experienced before.
He gets ridiculously attached.
There’s something needy about the way Feral loves. When you’re home together, he constantly seeks physical contact without even realizing he’s doing it. Resting his head in your lap, wrapping himself around you while you’re sitting somewhere, pulling your hand back into his the second you let go for too long. If too much time passes without touching you, he starts getting visibly restless and anxious.
I fully believe he’d want to spend every second attached to you if he could.
And he hates when you go out alone.
Not because he wants to control you, but because he’s aware of how cruel people can be. He notices the tiny shifts in your mood immediately, how sometimes you come home quieter, less energetic, more withdrawn after being around others. And it genuinely upsets him that strangers can affect you like that.
So whenever you’re outside together, he sticks close to you, watching people with this intense suspicious stare that naturally scares most of them away anyway. Nobody wants prolonged eye contact from an overprotective Zabrak towering nearby looking like he’s one bad comment away from biting someone.
When you finally open up about your insecurities, he goes completely quiet at first. But the longer you speak, the more visibly emotional he becomes because he simply cannot understand how anyone could look at you and make you feel anything less than adored.
His responses come out impulsively, almost desperately.
“But you are beautiful.”
“People are stupid.”
“How can they not see you properly?”
He gets too emotionally invested too fast, speaking before thinking because he wants so badly to pull you out of that pain immediately. And then the second he realizes he’s getting worked up, he gets shy about it. Like he’s worried his reaction somehow made things worse instead of better.
So he just buries himself against you.
Hiding his face in your neck or chest, taking slow deep breaths like your scent alone calms him down. His arms tighten around you instinctively, almost clingy, like he physically cannot bear the idea of letting go while you’re hurting.
The more vulnerable you are with him, the more attached he becomes afterward. Like every insecurity you trust him with only deepens his devotion further because to Feral, being allowed close to the softer wounded parts of you feels like the greatest proof of trust imaginable.
my tiktok headcanons <3
“The second you try to get up, his hands tighten around you immediately.
“Stay.”
That low dangerous tone softens just slightly when it’s directed at you.
“Do you have any idea how comforting you are to me?””
🫠❤️🔥
you press your hands to his chest, only just noticing how small they are in comparison to the expanse of his beautiful form. how small you are compared to him.
"maul, it's okay. tell me..."
he doesnt move. doesn't speak.
after a deep sigh to steady yourself, you can say it.
"my love...i am not afraid of you."
he'd never considered that. never thought anyone, much less a sublime creature like you, would look upon him as anything but vile & dangerous.
never thought he could be witnessed in some holy way. seen as anything but a monster & a tool of devastation.
But. He believes you.
So when he pulls you to him with such strength & desperation, it's more than can ever be said.
you know him. & he knows you. sometimes words just get in the way.
oh 🥺🥺.... oh, anon 🥺🥺... where even to begin?
