We are all obsessed with his voice, right? Right. And while the "talk me through it" approach is very delicious, hear me out on this one.
Give him ✨stimulation✨ and make him read something aloud. If he stops reading, the stimulation also stops. So he has no choice but to continue. Just imagine his composure melting away, little noises of pleasure slipping out. Trying to read whole sentences, but getting interrupted by his own stuttering breaths.
Bonus points if the text is either erotic or extremely serious like a mission report.
Hello, you said you're not taking requests but are open for headcanons for Tsu'tey and Tarsem. Do you have any headcanons for how they would court someone they're interested in (whether they're human or Na'vi)?
Hii! Yes, I am always down to share headcanons about these boys. Sorry this took a minute to post, I've been pretty busy as of late and have had very little time to think. Here's to hoping I got the right vibes from these guys.
Tsu'tey tends to be a fairly straight cut for me.
Now, don't get me wrong, I love all the stories about him choosing to be with a human/avatar-driver. They're wonderful and show a fun side to his character that is great to explore. But that specific path is a hard one to see him choosing without reason. I think one of the only ways he'd be willing to consider a human/avatar-driver partner is through repeated actions proving their love and care for his home, his culture, and his people. Holding onto human traditions or ways of life wouldn't necessarily deter him, but it could lead to cultural differences that would need to be discussed in order to avoid misunderstandings between you. Either before or after the war, he would have to see a lot of your character to determine whether you actually 'belonged' to this world. I'd guess that his relationship with Jake, after the war, would help in opening his opinions up a bit further to the other humans that were chosen to stay behind. But there is a lot of hurt and loss surrounding the one person he had expected to spend his life together with.
That being said, let's get into how he might court:
Na'vi: I see him being very traditional in his methods. You can tell that he loves his home and culture, and that would translate into his methods when he decides to court you. He might potentially start out with jewelry; a polished river stone braided into a bracelet, carved beads for your hair or songcord, a woven necklace, etc. Or even food; going out of his way to gather fruits and nuts he overheard you liked or offering the best cut of his hunt. Anything to show early on that he cares and has the ability to provide.
Then we move on to time spent together; potentially sharing clan duties, stealing you away for alone time after duties were done whether or not you had spent the morning together, going for flights together up through the mountains. Using that time to get away from responsibilities and watching eyes and just get to know one another. After the war and him fully taking over as Olo'eyktan any time away and spent together would be seen as a blessing to him. And him having small moments full of domestic style love is what that man needs.
Human/Avatar-driver: Now again, Tsu'tey is a traditional man. It would probably take considerably longer for him to open up to the idea of courting you. But when he does, he goes all in. Similar methods as earlier; making custom jewelry and beads for you (potentially gifting you some beads he's worn before, as a way of staking claim subtly). Maybe guiding you in carving a knife or bow and then ensuring you know how to use it to protect yourself; uses it as a way to spend separate one on one time together. He would ask you to help him with his hair and vice versa; whether you wore braids or just helping to detangle your hair. Taking you on flights through the floating mountains or rides through the forest; doesn't matter whether you have a mount or not, he'll plop you down in front of him if he has to.
I don't see a huge difference in how he'd approach courting in general, the biggest difference is whether you're human or na'vi. Whether you understand the cues and the hints he's giving you or if he has to try harder and be more upfront about it.
However, one notable difference is that I can absolutely see him going to consult with Jake as a 'human courting/dating expert' and asking what humans do to become closer. Jake, of course, would absolutely mess with him which could lead to some very awkward dates. I'm talking like Jake teaching him some funky dance moves and Tsu'tey does them trying to impress you. All it does is makes you stare and giggle and it makes Tsu'tey swear to get back at Jake.
Overall Tsu'tey would be a great partner. Loving, caring, attentive. And once you break down his walls he has no reason to hold back or hide his care for you.
Tarsem is easier to picture going either way.
Tarsem has lived a large chunk of his life in 'relative peace'. As far as I'm aware, there isn't a lot of 'trauma' or history that he would personally remember before the RDA's return in TWOW. Any that he would remember would be from when he was very young, I'd assume no older than 3-5 years old, when the Omatikaya's original Hometree fell.
However, I don't see that being something that would deter him from pursuing someone he wished to be in a relationship with:
Na'vi: He is a very sweet and respectable boy, observant and attentive in ways that make you feel seen in ways no one else could (outside of Eywa that is). He was taught the traditional ways of courting; gift giving, spending general time together, showing that he could provide a life for you, etc. When he knows that he wants to spend his life with someone he makes sure that he does it properly. Taking the time to learn what you like even when he's tired from training/clan duties is a given.
Now, I am a firm believer in childhood friends to lovers with Tarsem. Growing up side by side, learning about one another in ways that just feel natural, having that level of connection lead to intimacy is just wonderful to picture. I can picture you both having 'matching sets' to things; stones picked from the same stream that was woven into jewelry, bone from a shared hunt carved down into beads or a comb, maybe even choosing similar materials when fashioning clothing. It'd be obvious to everyone around you both that you had chosen each other before you even knew what romantic love was.
Human: (This one in particular is strictly human with no avatar since the technology to grow one isn't on Pandora during the events of the movies. The only time an 'avatar' would be considered is if you were a recombinant that defected from the RDA, but that's a different ball park I'm not touching in this post)
I don't see a lot of difference in how he'd treat a potential human lover.
This boy is still being a respective, sweet, observant, and attentive partner; just having to be more aware of the physical differences between you both. Being mindful of the places he takes you, taking the time to learn the types of food that make humans sick and then learning which ones, out of the limited ones you can eat, that you love. Even choosing to spend time in the lab with you that way you both wouldn't have to work around a mask (sharing food, general time together without a barrier, and letting you exist without having to worry about breathing for a change).
And if you were born on Pandora and not a defector from the RDA, we can include the whole childhood friends to lovers. Him climbing up to the top branches to collect your favorite fruit or nuts for you, you going out of your way to weave jewelry or a new string for his bow, the both of you choosing to spend as much time together as you possibly could (even if that means spending time in the labs if the battery on your mask died).
The path to opening up to a defector might be a longer one. Of course at one point all humans in the resistance were once aligned with the RDA, even if they didn't know what the RDA was doing behind closed doors. And while the resistance is always looking for new allies to help in the fight, that doesn't mean suspicions don't hang over their heads. It would take significantly longer for feelings to evolve past a mutual respect. But once he sees the genuine love for his home and the lengths you go to help protect it, he opens up to the idea of you being more than an ally, more than a friend. After that though, I can see him absolutely going to one of the scientists, or even Jake, and asking for help on how to show you he felt more for you than just being an ally/friend for you.
I won't go into the potential sexual aspects of their courting/mating, but there are plenty of other writers on this site that would gladly do so. Either way, I see these boys being ride or die once they choose someone to love and that person chooses them back.
I completely agree with you on Tsu'tey having a human/Avatar driver partner there is a fan fic I like called "Mirrored Skies" (pretty sure that's what it's called) by @dailyblueobsession that does a good job in portraying this. I recommend giving it a read
Summary: You are part of Grace's avatar programme. You make the mistake of following Jake on the expedition and narrowly escape death. You would kill him, but the dumb ass somehow got you both to the hearts of the Ometikaya.
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: Swearing (for now 😏)
A/N: Tsu'tey needs more love, and i'm gonna give it to him! This chapter is mostly settling the reader into the storyline though... but next chapter!
——————————————————————————
6 years of your life had been taken in what seemed like a rough night's sleep after a full day of drinking. Your muscles had ached down to your bones accompanied by the wave of nausea that set into you within minutes of awakening. Still, you would take cryosleep over again if you had to, it was all worth it to finally set foot on Pandora soil.
It was a real damn shame humans couldn't breath the air on this beautiful blue planet. All you wanted to do was take a deep breath of fresh air after spending a whole day in a stuffy shuttle with the corporals sent out for more gun power for the RDA.
You were uncomfortable being surrounded by so many large and ogling men but you were determined to keep a brave face. Wolves can smell fear after all. You had worked hard your whole life to be a renowned scientist and finally develop your career into xenobotany, which got you this gig in the first place.
When the offer was presented to you to become a part of the avatar programme, you didn't even think twice about accepting. This was an opportunity of a lifetime and you sure as hell didn't want to stay on that miserable planet any longer. Earth. A once glorious planet full of life and creativity only to be destroyed by its worst creation of all. Humans.
Sometimes you felt such a deep rooted hatred for your own species. Humans were a parasite. They feasted on the beauty of their home planet until there was nothing left to salvage. Even when resources and nature were dwindled down to nothing, they would keep searching for more to take.
It was the reason why you were even on Pandora in the first place. They had searched for another planet to devour. "For the good of humanity." It made you laugh. The irony. Nothing good had ever come from humanity.
You would rather die than let them destroy the beauty of another innocent planet.
"(Y/N)" You were shaken out of your deep thoughts by Jake Sully, a fellow participant of the avatar programme. Your unlikely acquaintanceship (you weren't quite friends) had surprised even you. But you were more alike than you both cared to admit. Both of you were considered outcasts by the vast majority. While you may have had different reasons to come to Pandora, you were both driven by your desire to overcome and succeed.
You had both already test drove your avatars in preparation for your expedition into the deep forest in both the opportunity for research and to hopefully capture the attention of the natives. The Na'vi. They loathed humans. Which is why the mission is to go into the forest looking like them, and you had to admit it felt good to be someone else for a time. You couldn't forget the moment you stepped outside onto the training ground outside Hells Gate and took your first deep breath since arriving on Pandora.
You blink and you're back in the mess hall, your tray of cold soupy porridge on the table in front of you. You shake your head and smile at him, your breakfast abandoned. "Sorry, I was someplace far away." Jake gives a tight smile out of politeness. "Grace told me to come grab you. We're getting ready to link in thirty minutes."
You were already on your feet and moving to follow him before he finished. "Great!" You couldn't wait. Finally. You had the chance to explore the wonderous botany and see them first hand.
"Norm, you're drooling all over your sample." Grace's disapproving tone carried through the peaceful forest. You were crouched down beside her, looking over her shoulder to the tablet scanning the roots in the soil. Your eyes flicked over to Jake wandering into the next clearing.
You gave out a tut at his stupidity. He didn't possess even a fraction of the knowledge you or Norm had on Pandora botany and you didn't trust him to not touch something he shouldn't. "One sec." You excused yourself to Grace, following the gun wielding avatar. It pained you to move away from the opportunity to learn, but it would look bad if your fellow team member died on your first ever outing. You moved past the trees to see him standing in a growth of helicoradian.
You let out a relieved sigh. Harmless. You step closer to him, watching him flinch when the plant snaps shut and shrinks to the ground at his touch. He laughs and goes to touch another and another. You chuckle at his childish behaviour. "You're such a child." You smile, finding it oddly endearing. Perhaps his charming personality was the reason you got along.
You had to admit you found it funny watching him eagerly slap the plants and spinning in circles like an idiot. You hid your smile behind the palm of your hand. Jake swiped his arm in a throwing motion to make the last of the plants shrink down.
Your smile fell immediately. "Jake." You kept your voice low as the view of a fully grown hammerhead titanothere took over your vision. Jake reeled back in shock, standing next to you and levelling his gun out of instinct. You quickly grab his wrist, pulling his arm back down. "That hide is far too thick to pierce with bullets you moron." He gave you an unconvinced look. You returned a fierce glare. "Do not piss me or it off."
"Don't shoot Jake. It's peaceful, it won't attack if it doesn't feel threatened." Grace's voice shouts from behind her and Norm's hiding spot. Jake finally lowers his gun and you both slowly raise your arms. You couldn't hide the tremble in your limbs at the possibility of being trampled by the giant creature.
Its roar blew back the loose hairs around your face as it charged. Your feet turned to run but Jake moved first, running towards it. He raised his arms in a display of strength and screamed. To your absolute shock, it worked. The titanothere backed down and retreated.
You let out the breath you didn't realise you were holding, bringing your arms down to rest on our knees and you bent over slightly to calm down your breathing. "Yeah, you better run! Now that's what i'm talking about bitch!" You glare at Jake out of the corner of your eye. "Are you fucking shitting me? You just nearly got us killed."
A roar cuts Jake's chance of a retort. You both freeze, eyes locked at the sound that erupted from behind you. You didn't need to turn around, the creature had leapt from above you to face you. "Fuck." You curse at the sight of the thanator.
"What about this one? Run? Don't run?" Jake's question is answered by Grace since your legs start moving to run before your brain has the chance to tell them to. "Run, definitely run!" The thanator roars again and you break into the fastest sprint you can.
Your flight mode takes over, leaping over the tall tree roots and widening your stride to cover as much ground as you could. Jake's heavy footstep catch up to you. You have two options now: stick together and find cover or split up and see who it picks to chase. You would be royally fucked if it decided to chase you, you make sure to translate that as you turn to show Jake your pleading eyes in the hopes he understands.
"Under here." He grunts, grabbing your wrist and pulling you under a large cage looking accumulation of thick tree roots. It works for all of three seconds before the predator is swiping between the gaps of the wood. You have to contort your body to narrowly avoid being shredded by its sharp claws. "Now would be a good time to use that fucking gun!" You yell at Jake, frantically trying to figure out an escape plan.
The sound of his gun firing blares into your sensitive ears. The thanator had ripped through a few roots, creating a larger gap for Jake to aim at. Thankfully, some bullets managed to graze at its head, making it back off and giving you the chance to get out of the roots and start running for your next point of cover.
Jake pushes you forward and the sound of rushing water reaches your ears over the fast thumping of your blood. His other hand is turned behind him, aiming at the animal still chasing you. "Jake?!" You yell, seeing the edge of the cliff coming far too close for comfort. "Trust me!" He yells, pushing you over the edge.
You have no control over the scream tearing through your throat as you fall, bracing your body for the impact of the water. Your muscles groan at the water's punch but you fight through it to swim up to catch your breath. Your eyes search frantically for your fellow avatar but there's no blue in sight. "Ja-?!" You try to scream, but the rushing water floods your mouth and down your throat making you gag and cough.
Thankfully, seconds later you see his head emerge from the water. You swim over to him. "Jake." You say, getting his attention. "(Y/N)." he sighs, relieved his last-minute plan had worked. You think he expects you to hold onto him out of fear with the way he opens his arms but to his shock, you punch him in the arm.
"Ow, what the hell was that for?!" He yells, grabbing his arm. You scowl at him. "It's your fault we're in this fucking mess!" He scoffs. "I just saved your life! You could be a little grateful." You keep your legs kicking under the water to keep you afloat as the current drifts you both farther away from the prowling thanator still on the cliff.
"Grateful? What the fuck do I have to be grateful for?! I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere with a fucking moron who's been the cause of three, THREE-" You hold up three of your fingers to his face to further your point. "-near deaths in the past ten fucking minutes!" Jake's smirk only fuels your rage. "You know, you should really work on that potty mouth of yours."
"Yeah cause that's gonna be priority fucking one." You scoff at him, turning away to see which direction the current was taking you. You both remained silent until you managed to reach a low level of ground to climb upon and out of the river.
You groan at your strained muscles as you climb onto the spongey moss, resting on your knees and leaning back on your feet as you wring out your clothes. Jake's panting is close behind you. Turning your head, you see him taking off his over shirt and fully wringing it dry.
Looking up past the trees at the edge of the river, you see the sky turn a darker shade of blue in preparation for the night. Sighing, you stand to your feet and turn to Jake, folding your arms over your chest. "Thank you." You turn your eyes to the ground, pride preventing you from looking him in the eye.
His chuckle has your eyes snapping up at him. He has a mischievous glint in those golden orbs of his. "Oh you're being nice to me now?" You scoff, arms falling back to your sides. "Never mind if you're gonna be a dick about it." He jogs slightly to break the distance between you. "Come on, I was just joking. We're gonna need to rely on each other to make it through the night. Friends?" He holds his hand out to you, tilting his head to see your face better.
Your side glance caught his smirk and your resolve breaks from his stupid charm, begrudgingly shaking his hand. "Friends." You say with a smile. "Lead the way Marine." You gesture to the thick forest before you.
Night falls quicker than you would have liked. Fear of the unknown had tremors creeping up your spine and tingling down your arms. Both of you lost your packs in the jump off the cliff and had to sacrifice your over shirts to burn for light sources.
You had just finished sharpening your makeshift spear when your ears twitched, picking up movement a few meters away. Your sensitive ears and nose came in very handy in this body. You quickly tap Jake's leg, seeing if he heard it too. He nods, looking past your face to the trees behind you.
You both rise, spears pointing in the direction of the noise. You squint your eyes into the darkness of the forest, daring a step closer. As though spurred on by your small movement, a pack of viperwolves emerged from the trees. Fangs were bared and claws glinted under your firelight.
You swallow the thick lump forming in your throat, eyes darting around to catch any sudden movement from them. A snarl escapes one to your left before it leaps straight for your chest. You manage to use your spear to block its claws from sinking into your skin but its weight still forces you to the ground. You grunt as you hit the floor, wrestling with the creature growling too close to your face.
You can hear Jake struggling with another viperwolf but don't dare to take your eyes from the one on top of you. Adrenaline gives you a surge in strength to push the animal off you. It hits the ground and limps away as another comes to try and bite your ankle. You whack your spear in its direction, shoving it away.
Just as Jake manages to fight off one on his right, a third comes clawing its way towards you. This time, you manage to direct your spear straight through its chest as it dives for you. You drop your weapon at the extra weight, leaving you defenceless.
You turn to Jake but find him distracting with two circling him. You can feel the fear take over fully now, legs trembling as you slowly step back from the remaining viperwolves. Your raise hands into a weak fighting stance, knowing it would do nothing against their sharp teeth and claws.
If you had given in to the urge to close your eyes and accept your fate, you would have missed the blur of blue leaping in front of you with a bow and arrows, forcing the creatures back into the deep part of the forest. A Na'vi. Female given from her chest covering.
You can only watch in awe as she crouches down and hisses at their retreating forms. She turns to both of your fires and hisses, shielding her eyes. She grabs both the discarded sticks and throws them into a puddle. "Wait, no don't-" Jake tried to protest but she wasn't listening to him.
She made her way to one of the viperwolves she had wounded with one of her arrows and knelt down over it. You could hear her voice but you had no idea what she was saying. "Hey, thanks for killing them things." Jake says, moving closer to her. You quickly grab his wrist, giving him a stern look.
She ignores him, walking away. You follow her, knowing she is your only chance at surviving. "Wait, please we need your help." Jake jogs past you, reaching for her wrist to stop her. "Hey, I just want to say thanks for killi-" You gasp as she smacks him with her bow hard enough he loses his footing and falls to the ground.
"You don't thank for this. This is sad. Very sad only." She steps closer to him as he stands, flickering her gaze across to you with each word. "They did not need to die." Jake's face hardens. "If you love your forest friends so much why not let them kill our asses?" She considers this. "Why save you?" You nod along with Jake, just as curious.
"You have strong hearts." She gives a small smile at you and then shifts to Jake and scowls. "But stupid. Ignorant like a child. Making noise, don't know what to do." He chuckles to himself. "You know, not the first time I've heard that today."
The Na'vi keeps moving deeper into the forest and you both follow her. "Please, we need your help." You beg again, this time moving in front of Jake. She sighs and waves her hand in dismissal. "You should not be here. Go back." You bite back your own sigh of frustration, still following her path.
"Please." You beg more urgently. She turns and raises her arm as though to strike you but pauses, looking up. You follow her gaze and see brightly glowing seed looking things floating down towards you and Jake. Your eyes widen in awe at the sight. You hadn't seen anything like this in your research.
One of them landed on Jake's hand and the Na'vi moved to swat his hand away from the seed before he could flick it off him. You could hear her scold him in her language but ignored it as you saw more floating down. You raised your hand slowly, gently reaching out to touch. You felt laughter bubbling up from your chest as they started to land all around your head, shoulders and arms. You turn to see Jake is also covered in them. "What are they?" You asked, voice quiet so you wouldn't scare them off.
The Na'vi smiles, looking at you both curiously. "Seeds from the Sacred Tree. Very pure spirits." Your mouth hangs open in shock. "Holy shit." You let out an airy chuckle in shock. They only stayed for a few moments before floating away from you. You watch as they leave, a forlorn feeling in your chest as they go.
"Come." She says quickly, gesturing her head in motion for you to follow her. You let the sigh of relief fall, jogging behind her and Jake. You follow her a little bit further before Jake asks for her name. Just as the words leave his lips, a rope comes flying out of nowhere and tangles his feet together, making him fall.
"Jake!" You shout, jumping down from the large root you were running across. He scrambles to his feet as more Na'vi emerge from the trees, dagger and arrows pointed at the both of you. The Na'vi who rescued you jumped in front and shouted in her language.
You and Jake hold your hands up at your heads. You feel something sharp dig into your back, pushing you forward next to Jake. You hiss and whack Jake's head with your outstretched elbow. "I hope you know the near death count is at five now." You whisper harshly at him, your lips deepening into a scowl.
The Na'vi exchange words before the both of you are grabbed by your wrists and dragged forward by the group of warriors.
Your wrists are beginning to hurt by the time the Home Tree comes into view. Your jaw drops at the sheer goliath size of it. "Holy..." The words trail off your tongue as awe takes over your brain. You are both taken inside, where even more Na'vi wait, crowded around a fire and hissing at yours and Jake's arrival.
You see what must be their leader, adorned in a feather chest covering and woven crown, speaking to one of the Na'vi who ambushed you before. The younger Na'vi gaze lands on you and you swallow under his piercing stare. If looks could kill, you would be boiled alive and resurrected just so he would have the pleasure of killing you again. They seems to be speaking in tight stern voices. God I wish I spent more time studying Na'vi. You mentally kick yourself, wishing you could understand the severity of the situation.
"What are they saying?" Jake asks the Na'vi who saved us. She half turns to him. "My father is deciding whether to kill you." Six. You tally the times you had faced death today. "We mean you no harm." You plead but it falls on deaf ears as Jake's hand moves forward to their leader. "Your father? It's nice to meet you sir." The Na'vi hiss and shove Jake back.
Please, of all things this idiot has put me through today, don't let me die over a fucking handshake. You pray to whatever god is listening. Voices start overlapping until an older feminine voice shouts from up the spiral in the centre of the tree. An elderly Na'vi appears dressed in what looked like ceremonial clothing in comparison to the minimal chest coverings and loincloths the other natives wore. "That is mother. She is Tsahik. The one who interprets the will of Eywa" The Na'vi who saved you gestured to the woman coming into view.
She raises her hand as though to shush all other voices and moves closer to you and Jake. She drags out a small sharp stick from her braids and quickly pierces the flesh on your chest. She brings it to her mouth and licks, her face deep in thought. She does the same to Jake.
"Why have you come to us?" Her voice carried an edge of authority so it felt more of a demand than a question. "We came here to learn your ways." Jake answers for you both. She doesn't seem satisfied with that answer. "We have tried to teach the Sky People before. It is hard to fill a cup which is already full."
"My cup is empty, trust me. Just ask (Y/N). I'm no scientist" He motions his head to you and you grimace at his pathetic people skills. She raises her head slightly, looking you up and down. "This is what they call you?" You nod, thinking better to say anything at all. She turns to Jake for him to answer. "Jake Sully."
"What are you?" Her eyes pierced into Jake's. "I was a Marine. A warrior of the Jarhead clan." You can feel your blood boil at his stupidity. The Na'vi who gave you that murderous look the whole time stepped forward, shouting at Jake. The leader pulled him back. The elderly Na'vi held her hand up. "And you?" You could feel the weight of her stare prickling your skin.
"A healer, for the warriors." It was the best lie you could think of. You knew a lot about plants so if the time came to it, you could make up an antiseptic or something if they didn't believe you. You had a feeling they didn't like the previous scientists that they encountered before.
The conversation started again between them. You watched their body languages to try and get any hints of what the outcome would be for you. The two younger looking Na'vi did not seem happy with what was being said. Thankfully it wasn't long before you got your answer. "It is decided." She stood in front of Jake first. "My daughter Neytiri will teach you our ways." She moved to you. "I will teach you the Tsahik ways, Tsu'tey-" She gestured to the man with the permanent scowl. "-will teach you the rest."
FUCK. My luck could not get any worse today. You could only imagine the horror that man will put you through. His face promised nothing but pain. You could barely hear past the blood rushing in your ears.
"Learn well. Let us see if your insanity can be cured."
You glanced once more over to the man, Tsu'tey, feeling your lip threatening to tremble. You could deal with men looking at you like a piece of meat, you could deal with the mockery, the insults, the harassment that chiselled down your self worth. But this? This was the beginning of torture.
Seven. You think. You couldn't shake the deep rooted feeling that this would be your journey to meet your untimely end.
I see a lot of Maul fics dealing with his manipulation and how it impacts the reader — And not that it is a bad thing, but so many have the readers be victims of his poor behavior sometimes. A lot of those things being very silly haha. Idk how to explain it proper, i’m not great with words.
tl:dr, How do you think Maul would be with someone who takes 0 of his shit? Like they understand his manipulative tactics, maybe bc they dealt with similar in their life, and are emotionally intelligent enough to not just call him out but to help work through it with him, being clear about their boundaries and feelings and all?
this is the ideal type of person for maul, honestly
understanding his manipulative tactics, has the patience for his emotional volatility, and applies the right amount of pressure
maul isnt so defensive that he cant be refuted or questioned (rook for example. even tho he argues, hes still patient every time she tries to be the voice of reason) but you cant push him too much or he'll lash out
i think what's most important is maul understanding healthy conflict. i think his partner being angry with him would scare him, because he's afraid you'll like. it activates his abandonment issues and presents as defensiveness
understanding that being upset with your partner doesnt mean its the end of the world would be like. earth shattering for maul lol
summary: On the verge of failing Potions thanks to your idiotic lab partner and Quidditch rival Draco Malfoy, the two of you are forced to sneak into the greenhouse at night for a final ingredient, only to stumble into some strange plants along the way.
tags: 18+ MDNI, [sex pollen] [enemies to lovers] [quidditch rivals] [eighth-year at hogwarts] [mutual masturbation] [dubcon but only because it's sex pollen lol ] [oral sex] [malfoy whimpers] [hate sex] [switchy] [penetrative sex] [multiple orgasms]
author's note: It felt weird not writing Draco & Snitch from Lessons in Losing, but i hope you like Nineteen :) Title is inspired by the song Fatal Attraction by Reed Wonder. 9k words
“This is a terrible idea,” you hiss, rounding the corner toward the side exit of the castle.
Draco scoffs. “Like you have a better one.”
While he draws his wand from his robes, you cast another wary glance over your shoulder. The hallway is empty behind you, lit with dim floating candles. The castle sleeps, blissfully unaware of the plans you and your Quidditch rival have in store tonight.
Sadly, you don't. Have a better plan, that is. That's why you're out after curfew, dodging prefects and paintings like it's your full-time job.
"There's just got to be another way," you say, checking behind you again.
"There's not. Unless you count failing an option. You want to fail tomorrow, Nineteen?”
Draco Malfoy has never called you by your real name—only your Quidditch number. Because that’s all you are to him. Not a person. Just an obstacle on the pitch. But you know the truth: you’re the only Seeker in the entire school who gives him a run for his money.
“No—but I think it’s important for you to remember how it’s your fault we’re in this predicament in the first place!”
“I beg to differ,” Draco says, opening the door with a flick of his wand and stepping out into the night. “I’m quite good at potions.”
You rush to slip after him before the door swings shut behind you with a heavy thud.
Prick.
You’re not sure why Draco really even gives a shit about this assignment. All he cares about is winning Quidditch matches and getting the hell out of this school.
And why should he care?
It’s not like anything bad will happen to him if he gets one bad grade. You, on the other hand, have a bit more to lose. As a trainee healer, you need to score well on the NEWTs this year to secure your spot in the coveted apprentice slots. Needless to say, failing your Potions final just simply isn’t an option.
The air outside is muggy and warm—an unusually humid night for early April. The sky is clear, though, boasting a bright full moon. A perfect night for harvesting a nocturnal plant. An owl hoots somewhere in the Forbidden Forest beyond, and the tall grass tickles your ankles as you make your way to the cluster of greenhouses on the grounds.
You yank on Draco's sleeve as he walks straight past the entrance to Greenhouse Three.
He shrugs off your hand and gestures impatiently to the latticed door. “Hurry up and open it.”
“One of us should stay on the lookout,” you huff. Your fingers brush your wand in your pocket. “I’ll go and grab the sample, and you signal me if there’s any—”
“Wait.” He stops you. “Why do you get to go inside?”
You stare at him, jaw slack. “Because I’m the healer?”
“Not yet, you’re not.”
Sometimes, you take comfort in your fantasies about Draco Malfoy.
You’re up to ten different ways you might be able to knock him off his broom. Make him suffer in a way he never saw coming. And thanks to that comment, you’re now trying to come up with the eleventh.
“Why don’t you be the lookout, and I retrieve the sample?” He asks pointedly.
You sigh, irritated. “Because, Malfoy, I don’t trust you to get an accurate sample, okay? You couldn’t even keep our original sprig alive long enough for us to use it tomorrow!”
“You know, that’s a good point.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Perhaps I don’t trust you, either. You know, we never did specify which of us was supposed to give the plant the appropriate amount of moonlight…”
You squint up at him. “Oh? We didn’t? That’s right. Maybe that’s because when we got assigned this potion, I stole the Snitch from under your nose at finals, and you didn’t speak to me for a week!”
Normally, you wouldn't complain about that. Being Quidditch rivals was one thing. Mouthing off to each other on the Pitch? That was a given. Outside of that, you didn't talk. It was a hard line.
That week just happened to be the one week you actually needed him to speak to you.
Because while he was busy trying to salvage his pride and keep his ego somewhat intact, you were actually doing all the heavy lifting for the assignment in Potions. The one Snape assigned to the both of you.
He huffs, irritated. He’s obviously annoyed you keep bringing that loss of his up, but you won’t stop anytime soon.
“We both go in, or I’m out," he says, his jaw set in determination.
You weigh your options. You could probably get the sample on your own, but you’re not willing to risk getting caught by yourself. If you get caught with him, you can do the obvious.
Blame him.
Turns out, it’s not much of a decision after all.
“Fine,” you mutter through grit teeth. “Let’s just get this over with.”
You unlock the door with a few precise spins of your wand and whisper the password low enough that Malfoy can’t hear it. The door unlatches with a hiss, and a warm, earthy smell hits you in the face. It’s familiar to you, and soothing in a way.
Malfoy shifts on his feet, eager to enter, but right before he pushes the door open, you bar his chest with your arm, wand at the ready.
You level his gaze. “Whatever you do—don’t touch anything.”
He scoffs, slipping past you and through the door with a flick of his robes. “Scared of a few plants, Nineteen?” He looks over his shoulder. “Bit concerning for a future healer and all. You might not make the cut.”
He shrugs with false sympathy before disappearing into the darkness beyond.
Nevermind. Gone are the thoughts of making his death a swift and easy one. Now, you’re envisioning something longer, slower, your hands around his neck—
You wonder if he begs half as prettily as he flies.
You’ve never really understood it.
The strange utopia that is Greenhouse Three. It’s always felt more like a portal to another dimension, rather than a plant nursery. But seeing it under the night sky is an otherworldly experience.
The tall domed ceiling stretches high above you, and dimmer disks fly from their assigned pots to line the narrow walkway upon your arrival.
There’s a silence about the place, but beneath it all, something living without breathing. As you walk among the taller plants lining the path, it feels like walking through a graveyard. But instead of the bones turning to dust under the earth—they’re watching.
The Nightbell Stalk lives all the way at the back of the greenhouse, in a secret locker called the Lumen Garden. You’ve never seen this garden, given the fact that it magically appears only when the moon is at its peak, and disappears again before the sun rises. Even despite the blatant breaking of curfew, you’ve been warned never to enter, given the dangerous nature of the plants one might encounter.
But, as they say, dangerous times call for desperate measures. Or, desperate times call for dangerous measures. Something like that.
All you know is it’s as desperate as it is dangerous, or you would never be so reckless.
Soon enough, the Lumen Garden door looms over you. It’s tall and black, and it sparkles in the light of the skimmer dimmers, like it’s made of crushed black diamond.
You turn to Malfoy. “Do you have it?”
He pulls an aged piece of parchment from his pocket. You reach for it but he snatches it back just in time.
“I didn’t risk my life in the Restricted Section, so you could show off your poor Mermish,” he says.
“‘Risking your life,’” you roll your eyes, unimpressed. “As if you don’t practically live there. Get on with it, then.”
He clears his throat. You try not to watch the way his fingers carefully unfold the paper, holding it like it’s something valuable. He’s always been like that when it comes to ancient scripts.
“Vaelith mora selune,” he whispers.
By moonlight reveal.
Your pulse leaps as the scrape of stone on stone reverberates throughout the silent room, bouncing off the glass panes above you.
As the stone door rolls back, it reveals a room so beautiful it nearly takes your breath away.
Opal stones guide you forward, leading to a circular pool in the center. The water lies perfectly still, glassy and undisturbed, yet the plants rooted beneath its surface sway gently in some unseen current.
Overhead, moonlight spills through the curved glass dome, and the panes are cloudy on purpose, filtering and diffusing the moonlight into something stronger and more even.
You tiptoe onto the landing, barely noting the black mossy walls surrounding you before the stone rolls shut behind you. Malfoy’s polished shoes click decisively down the opal stones, not the least bit fased.
You swallow and follow after him. Mist rises up from the pond, and when you lean closer, curiosity pulling you in, you catch sight of movement. Thin, glowing threads streak by under the glassy surface. Jilly bugs. They help the plants thrive in the lowlight conditions.
“Keep up, will you?” Draco hisses, drawing your attention to him.
He’s standing over a garden bed beyond the pond, half swallowed by the shadowed wall behind him.
These nocturnal plants only bloom at night, and they die without it. Because of this, these plants have different colors than normal ones. Most of them are varying shades of black, purple, or blue, evolved to camouflage with the night or their natural habitats.
As you step closer, the vines come into view. There are tons of them, growing along a nearly imperceptible trellis that spans the full length of the back wall, their long stems twirling and looping, spilling out across the floor and crawling up the dome above.
You’re just reaching his side when something moves out of the corner of your eye. Your head whips towards the wall, eyes narrowing through the gray haze.
But there’s nothing. Just vines, their leaves sitting so still they could almost pass as wax.
“Where’s the bloody vial…?” Draco mutters to himself, patting down the pockets of his robes.
His features catch the light as he looks down. Your eyes drift over the edge of his nose, the slope of his brow, that strong jaw. You look away when his chin tips up.
Reaching into your pocket, you retrieve the small glass bottle, holding it out for him to see.
Draco frowns. “Thief.”
You shrug, glancing down at the Nightbell Stalk in front of you.
It’s a deep violet, with small, downward-facing flowers. Inside each one, the stems glow a faint gold. You can smell the nectar from where you stand--sweet, like honey, but heavier. Thicker.
When Malfoy reaches for the vial, you snap it back in the last second.
“I’m doing it,” you say.
“Like hell you are.” He scoffs. “Just because you’re a healer doesn’t give you the right to fuck this up. It’s my project too, you know.”
Anger sparks in your gut and you turn on him. “You haven’t given a shit about this potion the entire semester, and I’m supposed to believe you actually care now? Besides, you don’t have the experience required—”
“Oh, I have the experience. Stand aside.” He reaches for the sample vial. “I can handle something as simple as—”
You snatch it back again. “Oh, so you know that the bells ring when disturbed, so you only touch the stem. Did you know that Malfoy?”
“I—yes! I know more than—”
“So, obviously, you’d be cautious around the petals, since they’re so sticky they can leave a residue on your hands for a week.” Your lips set in a taunting line and narrow your eyes at him. “But you knew that, huh?”
Draco glares down at you. “I’m well aware of the difficulties with this plant. And by the way, I suggested this plan. So, I’ll do it.”
Your argument continues, words overlapping, while your voices ring eerily loud in the silence of the greenhouse.
Push, pull, counter, strike.
You fight the same way you fly on the pitch, chasing the same goal. Competitive to a fault.
The exact fault being that while the two of you are too busy arguing over who gets to hold the stem—and where the vial goes exactly—you don’t realize one vine unfurling from the wall behind you, growing curious in the moonlight.
“My hands are steadier,” Draco says from his place over your shoulder.
You bite your lip, ignoring the way his breath ghosts across your ear, focusing your energy on getting the ingredient.
You accidentally graze the edge of the downward-turned petal with the rim of the glass and the flowers on the Nightbell Stalk ring softly.
“Shit,” you mutter.
“You know it’s true,” he continues, voice low. “How many times have you lost the Snitch because of your poor grip, hmm? I haven’t. Not once.”
With one sharp movement of your fingers, you scoop up the drop of nectar from the stems inside. It slides down the glass, glowing a deep orange. Satisfaction curls warm under your ribs like your feline familiar back in your dorm room.
You grin. “Got it.”
Reveling in your win, you turn, ready to shove your success in his face, but the movement only presses your back further into his chest.
“Move, would you?” You bite, trying to slide around him, but the tight space doesn’t allow for much wiggle room.
He shifts to let you through, but the narrow corridor between the wall and the garden bed seems to get tighter with his body pressed against yours. Somewhere, your feet get tangled and he stumbles, sprawling back against the garden bed, which pushes you flat against the ivy wall, glaring up at him.
His head blocks the moonlight, his silhouette falling over you like a living shadow. His lips part like he might say something, and you find yourself leaning forward, waiting breathlessly, when something brushes your ankle.
You leap forward. Draco’s arm wraps around you out of instinct. The two of you stare at each other before he seems to remember who you are and drop his arm like you’ve burned him.
“Throwing yourself at me, are you?” He drawls, breaking the silent tension.
“No!” You look down at the ground, but there’s nothing there. Just mossy stone under your feet, the shadow of the vine wall at your heels. “Something just…grabbed me.”
Draco shakes his head and shoves past you. “It’s always drama with you, isn’t it?”
“I’m serious!” you snap. “It almost tripped me!”
“Ah, yes. Do me a favor and twist that pretty little ankle would you? Just secure me a win next match, thanks.”
His words make you pause, forgetting all about the mysterious touch. A smile steals across your face before you can stop it. “So, you admit I need to be taken out for you to have a shot at the Cup, then?”
He spins on the spot, a shadow etched between his brows as he scowls at you under the moonlight. “You’re twisting my words.”
“I am not! Merlin, Malfoy, do you ever just shut up—” Something brushes your shoulder. You freeze. “What was that?”
To your surprise, Draco actually shuts his mouth to listen. There’s nothing. No frogs, no crickets, no owl, no water dripping, no jilly bugs splashing in the pond.
It’s…silent.
Suddenly, something moves above you. Both your gazes jerk up at the same time. A leafy vine—so green it’s almost black—drops down from the wall and brushes Draco’s hair.
He flinches, and as the light catches on the small, glass-like beads growing between the leaves, your stomach drops.
You know exactly what that is.
The Veleroux Vine. Some call it Sirenlace. But it’s best known for another name.
Sex pollen.
You recognize it from your studies. The pollen pods contain a powerful aphrodisiac, said to heighten biological desire to mate in extreme ways. The more you resist, the worse the fever gets, making you wild with lust.
“Draco—don’t touch—” You throw a hand out to stop him.
But it’s too late.
Malfoy rears back and slaps the invading greenery away like he’s swatting a fly.
Shit.
“Dammit, Malfoy, what did I say about not touching anything?” You shriek, surging forward and shoving at his chest. “Get away from th—”
The first bead snaps open in a plume of dust. Fear rushes through your limbs and you try to jerk the both of you away, but you’re not quick enough.
One after another, the pollen pods pop in sequence, traveling down the vine, dusting your hair, your robes, and filling the air.
You jerk back, furiously rubbing at your skin, but it’s no use. It settles on you like a thin glitter, small enough to even to slip into your pores.
“Oh, shit. Fucking—fuck. Fuck!” you holler, but you shouldn’t have opened your mouth. Now the back of your throat feels like when you stuck your head in the sugar jar as a kid.
Draco sends you a withering look, brushing down his robes. “Calm down, will you? Bloody hell—just a little plant dust.”
“Just a plant—” You scoff, throwing your hands up in the air. “Merlin help me, you can’t just fucking listen for one second. I know what I’m talking about! Hurry! We have to get out of here before it—”
The vine slips around your shoulder at the very same moment Draco glances down to find another one winding around his ankle.
“—grabs us,” you finish weakly.
You try to scramble away, but the leaves thread around your arm in a silky vice.
Draco curses loudly at the thing, hopping on one foot, losing his robes in the process of trying to extricate himself.
“You have the wrong…pair,” you tell the inky leaves while you fumble for your wand. “We aren’t—we can’t…do what you want.”
“It wants something?” Draco casts a disbelieving look at the vine now wrapped around his dark slacks, settling around his knee. “Merlin—what?”
“It wants us to have sex,” you say, matter-of-factly.
He looks at you like you’ve grown two heads. Then his gaze darkens, snagging on the way your hard nipples strain against your shirt.
Already? This shit works fast. You finally free your wand and cross your arms over your chest.
“Sex?” he sneers.
“Yes. It’s an aphrodisiac plant, native to rare jungles. Its job is to encourage mating between compatible species.”
“Compatible.” He scoffs. “You and me? Farthest thing from it.”
“It doesn’t know that..." You gasp as your wand is whisked out of your hands by a particularly strong leaf.
“Talk to it again. Tell it!” Draco shouts. He looks down and shakes his leg violently. The vine doesn’t budge. “Shit—just get it off me!”
Whispers of leaves dragging against stone make you turn to face the corner of the room behind you. A cluster of vines has begun to twist together, the husky hush of plants twining and looping filling the air. Vines slide across the floor, retracting into the dark corner, while more gather from the ceiling, shifting the beams of moonlight through the dusty air.
You inhale sharply. “Oh no.”
Draco curses somewhere behind you. “What now?”
“It’s building its nest,” you reply, eyes on the plant.
“It’s…what?”
You turn to see Draco fighting tooth and nail. He’s got his wand out now. Streaks of light bounce across the room, flames erupt in the air but they bounce off the leaves like they’re nothing but a few stray sparks. Across the room, past the pool, some of the other plants wither and shrink away from the light.
Adrenaline surges through you as your mind scrambles for a solution. You’re already beginning to feel it, a tugging deep in your core.
That familiar tight ache that blooms in the dark, alone, in your bed. But unlike then, right now, you can’t give into it. You try not think about how the longer you resist, the worse it will get. From your brief research, sex pollen isn’t fatal, but it certainly isn’t pleasant.
Unless you give in.
Then, of course, it’s rumored to be the best sex of your entire life.
You don’t have the luxury of finding that out.
There is an antidote, of course, but it is completely and totally, one-hundred percent, without a doubt—out of the question.
Sex with Malfoy? Not happening.
There’s only one answer. You have to escape.
Your gaze swings to the stone door, framed in elegant iron bars that allow climbers to reach moonlight.
Maybe if you could get out of the vine’s reach, it wouldn’t be able to chase you.
It only takes a second to form a plan.
Tipping back, you let your weight fall backwards into the vine, hoping to catch it off guard and force it to loosen its hold. Instead, you trip over a stray pot and go tumbling to the ground.
But before you hit the stone, the Veleroux is there.
Your breath catches, heart pounding, suspended in the air. Then the vine pushes gently into your lower back, guiding you forward util your feet find solid ground again. You stare, openmouthed, as the leaves brush along your leg, almost as if checking for injury, before nudging you toward the corner of the room.
“Oh, Merlin. Yes, I see your nest,” you say weakly, watching as the vine curls in on itself to form a sort of ball—more of a fist, really—and uses it to push softly against the heels of your shoes, urging you forward. It uncurls when you take a step, leaves fluttering as if pleased. Then it spins in the air, gesturing as if to say, look, I made this for you. A cozy, safe place to mate. “Very nice. Lovely, really. But you see, we can’t—”
“Blimey! Get back!” Draco’s voice interrupts your one-sided conversation.
You look over your shoulder, wobbling a bit as the plant continues to nudge you towards the silky hammock in the corner. He’s covered in vines, now. His wand has fallen somewhere off to the side, out of both your reach. He’s still flailing, hair mussed, trying and—failing— to break free.
You look down. The vine’s not even holding onto you anymore. Is it because you’re not fighting as hard?
You take a step towards the door. Nothing happens. You take another, and the vine edges closer. On the third, it finds your ankle again. But it doesn’t squeeze you or cinch tight enough to sting. It just curls softly around your leg, firm enough to stop you from running, but gentle enough that you start to suspect it doesn’t want you damaged.
Malfoy, on the other hand, looks almost black and blue.
“Stop!” You call. “The harder you fight, the tighter it tries to hold you. Just—watch. Walk towards me.”
“You’re insane. You know that?” he spits. But his eyes catch on your vineless body anyway.
“Trust me, Malfoy.”
That’s a phrase you never imagined yourself saying to him.
“It doesn’t want to hurt us,” you whisper. “I don’t think.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not good enough for me.”
Despite his words, Draco takes one step towards you. The vine’s hold loosens. Another step and it slips from his chest entirely.
“See?” you say, encouraged. “It’s biological nature is to keep its prey alive and well. It can’t force us to mate. It just…heavily suggests it.”
“Of course it doesn’t force it,” Draco sneers. “A plant can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.” But even as the words leave his lips, his eyes drop to the edge of your skirt. The hem suddenly feels six inches shorter, though you know it hasn’t shrunk.
Draco moves closer and the vines start to retreat, but he keeps a wary eye on them until they disappear into the Nest.
He glares at it, then at you. “What is that?”
“It’s a hammock,” you answer, eyes darting around for another escape route. “The vine thinks it will make us more comfortable. Since it’s not all over us anymore, I say we try to appease it. Just a little.”
“Appease it?” He gasps. “You want to—I can’t believe this. That—” he gestures towards the jumble of vines. “Could be a swan down comforter with silk sheets. I don’t care, I’m not going near it.”
You roll your eyes. “Merlin, you don’t listen. I’m not saying we go in the Nest. I’m saying we just…pretend. Then we can make a run for it.”
He doesn’t look convinced, so you turn to face him. “This plant spreads pollen to encourage mating, right? But how does it know when it’s worked? It’s not aware like we are.”
His eyes narrow. “Your point?”
“My point is…it’s pheromones, right? With our heightened hormones right now, we might be able to trick it into thinking we're on board, and it will let it's guard down.” Your stomach swoops with the words about to leave your tongue. “So maybe if you—if we—”
Draco’s eyes snap to yours. “If we what?”
His tongue swipes over his lower lip, leaving it glistening in the moonlight.
Stupid fucking pollen.
You swallow hard. “I think we should kiss.”
A beat of silence passes, the only sound your heartbeat kicking up, drumming in your ears.
“Fine,” he agrees.
That surprises you. You thought he’d gag at the very idea.
It must be the pollen, overriding his blatant hate for you and digging into his more urgent needs.
A shiver rolls down your spine at what those needs of his might be. You’re feeling it too, of course. The effect of being so close to him.
It’s only biological. To be drawn to a specimen of the opposite sex.
And why not Draco? He’s tall, healthy, miles of lean muscle. He smells good, and he’s not bad to look at. Especially when his eyes do that—flashing over at you thing, while his mouth quirks into a crooked smirk…
No other reason. Right?
You don’t have time to debate this, however, because Draco’s moving.
You’re vaguely aware of the vine brushing your ankle, keeping you steady as he crowds your space, and then—
Your lips meet his.
Your breath catches at the warmth you weren’t expecting. And that warmth…blooms. Your lashes fall shut as your whole body seems to sigh at the touch, like he’s the cure to the dull ache in your limbs, the antidote to the burning in your core. Just a gentle caress turns the sharp heat into a molten lava that invades your bloodstream.
He groans softly into your mouth, and the sound alone makes you gasp. Next thing you know, you’re pressed against his chest. Whether by his arms around you, or your own feet carrying you, or the stupid fucking vine playing matchmaker, all you know is he smells like green apples and teakwood. Cold luxury, but with a hint of…home.
At the first taste of his tongue, your stomach swoops dangerously. As he slants his mouth further, exploring, kissing you deeper, your heart feels like it’s beating as fast as a Snitch’s wings.
Your hands find his hair. It’s soft as silk between your fingers. A whimper escapes him and he breaks the kiss, head dropping back instinctively.
You watch through half-lidded eyes, taking in the way his wet lips gleam in the moonlight, blond lashes fluttering.
Merlin, he’s gorgeous.
His throat bobs on a swallow, and before you know it, your mouth is on his neck. He lets out a choked sound, something between a gasp and a groan, before jerking suddenly in your hold.
You stumble away, already missing the heat of his hands, lips buzzing like you’ve just downed a shot of fire-whiskey.
It’s him, you realize. He’s your drug. And when he lurches backward, breathing hard, you feel as if he’s just taken your last fix.
His eyes stay pinned on you as he retreats. The vine stops him with a gentle pressure at his back, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He lets it guide him toward the nest, stopping just beside it, his back hitting the wall.
You scramble back until your heels knock into the stone wall opposite him. The Nest sits between you, off to the right, tucked in the dark corner of the room.
“Brilliant plan,” he grits out. “Bloody brilliant.”
And you’re back to square one.
“Ah!” Draco shouts, pointing at his wand lying on the ground between you. “You crossed the boundary.”
“I did not!” you snap at him, eyes flashing. “I was just adjusting. My foot kicked it accidentally—shit—would you just shut up? Your voice makes it worse.”
Over the last several minutes, you and Draco have tried everything under the sun to escape. The farthest you ever made it was all of ten feet. You did manage to retrieve Draco’s wand, though. Which then started the slew of fire spells, sharp object summoning charms, and so on. An earthquake hex was threatened, but that could’ve brought the whole school down, so you couldn’t risk that.
Although it was considered for one brief—and selfish—moment.
But none of it did a thing.
Turns out, this plant has some sort of magical resistance. It’s so bad that he couldn’t even make a force field or proper line divider between you, so he placed his wand there instead.
You’ve slowly slid down into a heap on the floor, attempting to make yourself smaller, as if that might ease the ache building deep in your core. It’s relentless, hot and gnawing, and you know it’s only going to get worse if you don’t come up with another plan soon.
Draco’s sitting now too, half draped in shadow. His arms crossed over his crisp white button-down, and he’s still glaring at you as if this is all your fault. The one knee strategically placed in front of his groan is the only sign you’ve gotten that the pollen is effecting him at all.
Bastard.
His tie is loose though, and his hair is tousled. Like it always is after a match. There’s no wind in here though, just the whisper of leaves and the steady drip of water.
No. Your hands are the only thing to blame for that.
Shit.
Now all you can think about is how soft his hair felt, how easily your fingers sank into it, and all the ways you could drag him closer by it, yanking his hot, wet mouth to your—
“What did I tell you about thinking those things?” Draco says. You peek up to see his head hit the wall, eyes sliding shut.
“I’m not thinking anything—”
“Stop lying, Nineteen.” His nostrils flare, and his eyes snap open. Somehow, his pupils have grown even larger. “You're so wet I can practically taste it from here.”
Merlin. Your thighs press together instinctively.
“I’m not thinking anything that has to do with you,” you snap. “Except how much I hate you. How much I despise your face, how much I want to steal that Snitch from you every damn day, and how if I had to be here, I would rather it be anyone else other than you!”
Your chest heaves as you catch your breath. But the way he looks at you makes your pulse spike all over again.
“Is that right?”
His cheeks are flushed, the same way they are when he’s hot on the Snitch’s trail. Your slick walls flutter at the sight. You’ve always thought he looked good like that. All sweaty and warm, hair stuck to his forehead, eyes bright with a fire that matches yours.
Not that you would ever tell him, of course.
“Who would you want instead?” he rasps. “Montague? Flint? I see the way you look at them on the pitch.” He looks away for a second and drags his knuckles across his lips before his gaze snaps back to yours. “Lucky for you, you’re trapped here with someone who can show a little restraint.”
You bark out a laugh. “You think you’re the only one here with restraint? Take one step toward me, Malfoy, and I swear I’ll hex you.”
He grunts. “You don’t have a wand.”
Your head tips back with a quiet groan, your clit aching to be touched. You make another weak attempt to get away, but the vine catches you.
It doesn’t snap, claw, or hold you against your will. Rather it settles around your shoulders, brushing a waxy leaf along your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear before retreating again, as if to say, Stop fighting. Just look at him. Don’t you want to?
And somehow, that’s worse.
Because you do.
Badly.
You find yourself looking at his hands. Your gaze drifts over the curve of his palms, the long lines of his fingers, the tension there, the veins, the control he’s barely holding onto and—you’re salivating.
Snap out of it.
“It’s so hot in here, f-fuck,” you whine, pawing at the collar of your shirt.
Draco eyes lock on you fingers. “Take that off and I swear—don’t.”
But your tie feels like it’s choking you, and your pulse booms in your ears. Your fingers keep loosening it. Draco curses.
You whimper. “That’s not fair, you took yours off!”
“Stop talking. Merlin, just—” he cuts himself off with a rough breath, his large palm grinding down into his erection beneath his slacks. “Shut up.”
You try to stay quiet. You really do.
But every shift of your body sends heat spiraling lower, making it harder to think. Every brush of your thighs squeezes your swollen clit, and has you gasping into the wall behind you.
Draco’s breathing is uneven now, too, echoing faintly off the stone. He hasn’t been able to keep his hand off his dick, still hidden under his clothes.
Not that you’ve been watching.
“I think—‘ you swallow. “I think I have a plan.”
Draco moans. “Fine. Enlighten me.”
“Remember what I said about the pheromones?” You manage. “It’s clear kissing wa—shit—wasn’t enough. Maybe…” Your eyes drop to his erection.
“No.”
“Draco, we’re going to have to touch ourselves. It’s the only way.”
You expect him to be glaring at you, but when you look up, his eyes are on your legs—that bare skin between your shoe and your skirt.
“Fine.” His throat bobs on a swallow. “You first.”
You barely have time to debate the ramifications of your actions. Your body burns, thick pressure building low and sharp.
You slip your hand under your skirt, straight under your panties. You inhale shakily, trying to steady yourself, but when your fingers meet a slickness like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the breath leaves your lungs.
The sound of of your wetness fills the silence between you and Draco makes a low, strained sound.
You glance over at him and immediately wish you hadn’t.
He’s taken his cock out, and he’s stroking it from base to tip. It’s long. Thick enough to fill up his palm, and veiny. The tip is darker than the rest, and you just know, if you were to take him in your mouth and suck—you’d feel his heartbeat against your tongue.
His jaw is tight, eyes half-lidded, like he tried to close them but his body won’t let him. When he sighs and bucks his hips into his own fist your mouth runs dry.
Whatever cavern of distance used to exist between you is crumbling now. It’s being burned away. There’s no space for it in this heat, this constant pull towards each other. Your skirt rides higher up on your thighs, and the cool air brushes your wet inner thighs.
After a minute, the relief starts to fade. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus. But your body won’t cooperate. Your hips jerk back from your own touch, your clit bordering on overstimulation. You frown, plunging two fingers inside yourself to rub the ache away. But they feel like cold pencils in your pulsing channel.
The heat drags through your veins like hot cotton, begging for a deep release. But every brush of your arms against the cold stone behind you makes your elbows start to itch, and your very skin start to feel like a husk.
You need water. No—not water.
You need him.
It’s almost as if your body is punishing you for doing it to yourself.
“It’s not w-working,” you whimper, helpless.
Draco groans, his frustration evident in the bulging vein in his neck. His cock looks so angry in the dim light. He bites his lip in determination, and you watch his fist grip tighter. He only gets to three more strokes before he’s hissing with discomfort.
“There’s got to be another way,” he rasps, his hand dropping away.
You huff, so needy you’re almost on the verge of tears. “I’m thinking!”
“Well, think harder.”
You glare at him, dimly aware of how on display you are right now. Legs open and spread towards him, skirt barely concealing the way your fingers move against yourself. “Maybe I could if you could just shut your mouth for one damn second!”
His voice is not helping. All low and deep, with a hint of a rasp curling around his accent, making your belly tighten.
In fact, none of this is helping. Silence fills the space between you, only broken by uneven breathing and the quiet rustle of the Nest.
When his eyes drop to your dripping cunt and you don’t even have the decency to close your legs, it’s like the pollen has overridden your higher thinking. Your knees widen instinctively, begging for him to look. To touch…
Your composure slips further. And when he licks his lips, your lips actually part in preparation to ask for him.
Merlin, if this keeps up much longer, you’re not above begging if that what it takes. And begging Draco Malfoy for anything is beyond the lowest you’d ever thought you’d go.
You work yourself harder, but your fingertips feel like sandpaper against your soft folds, even as your arousal continues to leak steadily from you, your pussy desperate to be filled.
But that feels impossible.
A tear slips from the corner of your eye, and you’re helpless to stop it. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your face away from him, still chasing any kind of relief, begging for it to feel like something worth grabbing onto.
Somewhere, distantly, you think Draco might be saying something, but you’re not sure what. Your body’s honed in on the vibrations of his voice, the way he smells—
“Nineteen.”
Hearing your nickname snaps you back to reality.
You open your mouth to answer him, but no words come out. Little gasps punch out of your parted lips, hips twisting and writhing, searching for friction. For heat. For him.
“Tell me,” he says firmly.
You turn your head. You can barely see him, your eyes refusing to open more than a sliver. He’s leaning forward now, one knee planted on the ground.
“W-what?” you rasp.
“Your plan—the pheromones—shit.” Then, quieter, he adds. “Tell me how to make it stop hurting you.”
Your eyes snap to his. He’s watching you with that sharp focus you’ve always admired about him. The look that says nothing is getting in the way of what he wants.
You’re not sure exactly what makes him give in.
Maybe it’s the way your breaths come in soft pants that make the rise and fall of your breasts visible beneath your loosened tie. Maybe it’s the way your eyes drop to his lips, his neck, your tongue running over your teeth like you’re imagining how he tastes. It might be the ways your hips slant forward, knees falling open, your body begging even if you don’t have the words to.
But he must see it.
Because, he just says, “Fuck.”
His shoulders catch the moonlight as he shrugs out of his shirt in one smooth motion. Lines of lean muscle come into view, and you feel as if you’ve been presented with a feast after almost starving to death.
Malfoy’s always had a very determined walk. A powerful stride, one that commands attention. You’ve seen in in the halls, backed by his loyal little following. You’ve watched him stride towards the Quidditch cup, shoulders back, chest high.
But right now—he’s not walking.
He’s crawling.
Towards you.
“Close your eyes. If it helps,” he says before his hand meets your ankle and he’s bowing in front of you.
Something deep in your mind catches on those words, but he’s yanking your panties the rest of the way down your legs, and the heat of his mouth against your core whisks your thoughts away.
The second his tongue finds your clit you can’t help but cry out. Your head tips back against the stone, the relief so immediate it’s almost staggering. Draco attacks you with warm, lascivious licks that aren’t meant to soothe, despite his words. They’re meant to claim.
Your hands dig into the mossy floor beneath you, arching your hips up for him. His strong, hot tongue parts your folds like it’s his life’s work. The view of his back muscles shifting and stretching in the moonlight as he makes out with your pussy is so seductive to you it’s nearly frightening.
In fact, it is.
Frightening.
“I hate you,” you grit out, not even entirely sure where it came from. Just a need to set things back in order, even as he’s unraveling you.
He groans against your clit, the vibration licking up your spine.
“Say it again.”
You gasp, caught between resisting and wanting more, even as your pelvis shoves forward and you grind into him like you’re in heat. His tongue dives lower and when his nose nudges your clit, you nearly scream. Your orgasm rises like something sharp. It’s so powerful of a burn, of an ache, you find yourself scrambling backwards in an attempt to get away from the promise of such delirious pleasure.
Merlin, you need it. More than you’ve ever needed anything in your entire fucking life—
It scares you how much.
But Draco just hums against the pulls on his hair and follows you anyway, scuffling forward on the stone ground, gripping your hips and spearing his tongue deep inside you.
“Malfoy, I’m gonna—oh, fuckkk—”
“That’s it,” he says, and the sound of him quietly speaking against your slick folds nearly does you in. “Scream my name, Nineteen. N-need—fuck—wanna hear you say it like that.”
The soft rasp of his voice, and the two long fingers being pushed inside you send you straight over the edge.
The release pulls you under in waves. Dark, pulsing tidal waves that drive deep through your pelvis, erasing through your body until the pleasure nearly blinds you. You feel yourself going rigid in his hands, thighs trembling against his soft hair, but he just hauls you through it, like a lighthouse in a storm. Strong, steady, and never stopping until you’re jolting and gasping, crying out in relief.
But the second your orgasm fades, the heat rushes in again. The fever. It’s back, and with vengeance this time.
Sweat beads your forehead and your vision swims, but you look up just in time to see Malfoy scramble backwards like you burned him.
You frown. “Dra—what?”
He throws a hand out, pressing himself against the opposite wall. “Don’t come closer.”
A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it. The heat is different now. Instead of feeling like a thread about to snap, your body has narrowed down to one singular need.
Breed.
Your fingers fly to your shirt without you telling them to, unbuttoning your shirt with ease. You feel the way your breasts move with your harsh breaths, but your gaze is locked on him. And when you drop down to all fours and slink forward, Draco looks like he’s going to have a heart attack.
“Merlin—I can’t.” he chokes out. “I can’t even think about it.”
Your gut feels like it’s been punched. Is he so disgusted by the thought that he can’t even look at you?
Does he truly not want you? Was that some sort of…pity—
You can’t even finish that thought.
You slink backwards until you’re half in shadow. He must see the look on your face because his head falls back against the wall on a groan. You can smell his sweat in the air and it’s making you downright feral even though you can barely look at him from embarrasement.
“I can’t think about it, because if I do, then I’ll do it,” he says. “And if I do it…I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”
Control. That’s always been Malfoy’s vice, hasn’t it?
This situation is probably his worst nightmare.
Not for the first time, something plucks on your heart strings deep under your ribs. He’s scared of losing it? You can give it back to him.
Slowly, and with deliberate care, you cross the boundary. The wand clatters somewhere to the side. Draco watches as you crawl to him, his eyes raking over you, a mixture of pain and hunger in his eyes.
You can only imagine what you look like.
Hair mussed, left in just a lace bra and soaked panties, your skirt hanging loose on your hips.
“Then don’t,” you murmur.
Your voice is so quiet in the stillness, but it spears through him all the same. Your gazes click together like magnets.
He shakes his head, chest heaving. “You don’t mean that. It’s just the fucking plant dust—”
He stops short when your hands settle on his knees, gently forcing them apart to make room for yourself. Your breath catches when you drop your gaze to see his cock sitting heavy and hard against his lower stomach. It twitches under your watchful gaze and your mouth waters.
Carefully, you settle into his lap.
He exhales sharply, and his hands find your soft skin, undoing your bra before you can even blink. Testament to a lot of practice, you’re sure.
You don’t have the strength to be self-conscious. You just need him. Now. Even so, somewhere through the lust-filled haze, you remember his words.
“The plant just lowers—” your breath hitches as his teeth find the soft skin of your neck. “—your inhibitions. It can’t make you fuck someone you don’t…w-want.”
“How do you know so much about this?” he groans into your hair. “Why are you so—”
“What? So smart?”
“You wish.”
The words barely brush your ear before you lean back to get a better look at him. You’ve barely straightened by the time his mouth is on your tits.
You cry out as he swirls his hot, greedy tongue around your nipples, sucking on the hard buds until you’re panting. Your clit swells and you bite your lip, threading your fingers through his hair. The first rock of your hips has you both groaning.
You grind down on him again and you nearly black out at the feeling of his bare length sliding through your slick folds. You reach between you to tug his slacks down further. His balls are heavy in your hand, and he grunts, shoving himself up into you.
“Merlin—I can’t—” he chokes out, mouth leaving your tits as his palms fly up and dig into his eye sockets.
Without thinking, you lean forward and kiss his fingers one by one. His bare chest stutters against yours at the softness of it, and when you slip his thumb into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it eagerly, he drops his hands.
You look down to find him staring up at you with a familiar expression. You make that face. When you're seconds away from catching the Snitch.
You swear you can feel every vein in his dick, so hot and hard against you as you grind your slick cunt against him. It’s instinct to drop your head and search for his mouth with yours, but you pull back at the last second. That last thread of lucidity coming back to haunt you.
This is your rival.
For a second you just breathe each other in, mouths parted, groaning and writhing into the other, but when the blunt head of his cock catches on your entrance, your hips react on their own—circling, pelvis arching, body begging in a primal, secret language you don’t fully understand.
And he moves with you—meeting you there with the deep urges of his own.
His hips don’t snap into you, brutal and deep. Instead, they slide. Back and forth. His hands clamp onto your hips, holding you still in his lap as he eases the tip in and out, letting your slick coat him until you’re ready to take the whole thing.
The way his body moves speaks to something primal and powerful in you. How his sweaty muscles bunch and tense, and his hands dig into your skin at your hips, your thighs, your waist— it’s better than anything you could’ve imagined.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” he growls into your ear.
You nod frantically, clenching around him.
In one long thrust, Draco fills you up. The stretch is breathtaking. Literally. He’s so long that his tip kisses your cervix with every thrust, sending you mewing and clawing at his hair, his shoulders, just to stay afloat through the pleasure.
He’s not fairing much better.
He’s growling and moaning, his cock jerking desperately in your slick walls as he pulls back just far enough to yank your hips back down to meet his.
Sounds spill out of you. They might be words, you’re not sure. But the next thing you know, cold stone meets your back, and Draco’s warm body is spread out over you. His thrusts grow heavier and deeper. You can feel the way your body tries to hold onto him, clenching and fluttering desperately, even as your arousal makes it easy for him to slide so deep.
You’ve never been this wet in your life. And now, you’re wondering, if it’s from the pollen, or if it’s just from him. Because you’ve never had sex this good, and that’s saying something.
Your bodies just…move together. Like they’re one of a kind puzzle pieces meant to fit. The give and take is so instinctual it’s almost unbearable how good it is.
“Fuck, you take me so well,” Draco pants, a lock of hair falling over his sweaty brow. “Knew you would.”
You throw your head back, your ankle finding solace in his lower back, sealing him to you and begging for more. Your body gives into the heat, the pleasure cresting and pulling you into something dangerously strong. So strong you’re worried your body might not survive it.
“So pretty on the pitch,” he groans, seemingly unable to stop from talking. “Merlin, I just—I lose the bloody Snitch every time you look at me.”
That does it.
Your orgasm rushes through your body like lightning. Your spine snaps straight, muscles clenching down with a pulse you feel everywhere. A moan leaves your chest, so loud you’ve probably woken the whole damn castle, but you’re too gone to care.
Draco makes a rough sound against the skin of your neck. “Holy—fuck, I’m gonna—where should I—”
“Inside,” you gasp. “Please. Please, Draco. I need it. P-please—”
“Ah, fuck—” His mouth seals against your throat, nose brushing the pulse point below your ear. “Need you.”
He jerks hard, once, twice, and then he’s spilling inside you. Your body seems to understand, back arching, pulling him deeper with your ankle as he stills and lets out a groan that curls low in your belly, and will certainly live on in every wet dream you have from here on out.
The fever fades like a receding tide. You blink, slowly coming back to yourself. Your clit is throbbing, and your pulse is still hammering, but strangely you feel...lighter somehow.
Like maybe the last few years of tension between you and your rival finally needed to snap.
You turn to him. He’s on his knees, breathing hard, buttoning up his pants. He looks up at you, and something in his eyes softens.
“What did you mean?” You find yourself asking. “When you told me to close my eyes earlier?”
He shrugs, reaching for his shirt.
“Well, you said you’d rather be here with anyone else. I just—” he looks away, suddenly seeming very interested in the way the Nest is unraveling like it did its job, and the stray vine that’s currently retrieving his wand for him.
You don’t let him finish.
You lurch forward and grab his face, pulling his lips to yours.
This time, he doesn’t hesitate a second before meeting your mouth. He kisses you back, long and hard, digging his fingers through your hair to pull you closer. You exhale into it, something long unsaid passing between you. But it’s not enough. You still need to say the words.
So, you break the kiss first. He blinks down at you, eyes dark, hair mussed.
“I only think about you, Malfoy,” you whisper in the shared air between you. “On or off the pitch, it’s only you.”
He leans down and brushes his lips across yours. “I still hate you, Nineteen.”
You reward him by deepening the kiss. He answers it, slower this time, but no less intense. When he finally pulls back, you’re already smiling.
i cant believe i havent done one of these yet hehe
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
i honestly think he's pretty quiet? i think he's the most vocal and vulnerable during sex, then his mind kinda wanders. not disassociating, just absent? he will hold you, though
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
i've said before that i think mauls a tits guy but, honestly? i think he likes thighs, and just legs in general (completely separate from his own bisection) he likes to hold your legs, secretly loves it when you rest them in his lap.
if you're alone sitting next to him, he'll idly trace your thighs or just rest his hand there. and his horns piercing your skin when your legs are clamped around his head turns him on
as far as his own body parts? uh. i dont think maul likes any body part of his body :/
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
if he had the ability to? he'd love to cum inside and watch it drip out of you. if not cumming inside, he'd cum on your lower abdomen. he'd like to swipe some of it on his fingers and put it in your mouth. however, i dont think he'd like to receive oral often? i think it's too vulnerable for him.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
he'd steal your underwear. swiped one from your dirty laundry, another time he pulled them off of you and stuffed it in his pocket.
he likes the smell idc idc. especially if he stole them from you when you were aroused? just something about him having evidence of his affect on you turns him on
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
oh he's a virgin through and through. he had no ability to express his sexuality pre-tpm, and just lacked the desire after lotho minor until he met you. he's a fast learner though. he was the top student at orsis for a reason
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
missionary, because he likes to be close and the eye contact
but he also likes you lying prone, with something wedged underneath your hips to elevate them a little
or you riding him when he's sitting up
he basically wants to be as close to you as possible.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
he's very serious. but he's also petty enough to continue an argument/bicker with you during sex. he gets so smug when you start to fire back, only to fall apart because he starts doing that thing with his tongue like a bastard.
though he thinks its cute if he makes you giggle during sex. he'd never admit it tho
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
well, i headcanon that the nightbrothers are hairless so. but i mean, he's particular about his personal hygiene. his nails are always clipped and he takes care of his horns.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
maul is a passionate lover, very all or nothing. extremely intense its a Very Big Deal that he'd allow himself to be this vulnerable with you.
he teases, there's no doubt about that. likes to come up behind you, work you up with neck kisses and mumbling in your ear.
or he barely talks at all. lets his actions speak for him via touches and bites.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
before theed, he'd masturbate to relieve stress when he couldnt ignore it. after lotho minor? not at all until he met you, and that desire started to come back. but because he's so disconnected with that part of his body, self pleasure is difficult for someone like him who is only used to pain
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
he'd never do it probably but he'd like throne room sex. not with anyone around, because he's not sharing you with anyone ever. but just the power dynamic of it. i can see him enjoying just. cock warming you while he's sitting on the throne
sticking his fingers in your mouth? is that a kink?
i think he likes pain. wants to be scratched or bit because it's familiar and grounds him.
orgasm denial/edging. making you wait, beg, then deny you? that's gold to someone who has control issues. he will make you cum tho, and he's very generous with giving
being wanted, which kinda ties into edging. he wants to hear how much you want him, begging for him, how you're choosing him. enthusiastically.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
bed, honestly. tho i do think he'd like to fool around with you in the cockpit of his ship every now and again.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
being defiant LMAO he's a hunter, he likes someone resisting him and refusing to back down. making him work for it? that's fun
competence. he just likes watching you be good at something. fighting, dissembling a blaster, working on the ship, whatever it is. specifically, if you're a little messy, sweaty and just overall exerted because of what you're doing? yeah thats hot to him
anger. at him. specifically, because it provokes a strong feeling which is close to arousal for maul. loves to see that fire in you. ties into that defiance and making him work for it. yall would definitely fall into the argument-to-sex pipeline
you just existing in your natural state, being comfortable around him. walking around in a ratty t-shirt, no bra on (if you have breasts), comfortable enough to exist so vulnerably in his space? if you shave and decide not to? yeah he likes that shit
has a fixation on your neck. likes to bite, feel your pulse point, inhale your scent
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
anything that has to do with bodily fluids other than spit and cum. i honestly think he's pretty vanilla for the most part.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
he prefers to give, doesnt like to receive as much. like i said earlier, he's a fast learner. he picks up on what you like very quickly. its not just the control aspect of giving, he genuinely enjoys giving oral (same. ill eat pussy any chance i get)
his favorite is to have your legs bent to your chest so he can go down on you. or if you're sitting in a chair.
i think he'd have a thing for giving oral when you're in the middle of doing something. seeing how long it takes you to be unable to continue because he's making you feel so good
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
slow, and rough. i dont think he's fast. he likes to take his time, unless you beg very nicely for him to go faster and he's in a generous mood
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
i dont think he'd do quickies, at least not in the beginning of the relationship
even if you've been together for awhile, his definition of a quickie is getting you off, either with his fingers or mouth. usually in the mornings or late at night when you're kinda sleepy but aroused.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
i dont think he takes risks often, but if he's in the mood for it, he'll make you answer a comlink if he's fucking you. or he'll cover your mouth and tell you to be quiet if someone calls his comlink.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
he's got two hearts. he can go for quite a few rounds. i think he does cum fast, but he doesnt like that. so he'll secretly edge himself
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
doesnt have any himself. if you wanted to use a toy, he'd be happy to. though i think he prefers taking you apart with his own body. i do think he'd have a thing for watching you masturbate with your toys tho
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
evil. horrible. awful. bastard. terrible man. the worst tease that has ever existed. out the airlock, immediately.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
he growls, he whimpers, he whines. i dont think any of these noises are very loud, but he is vocal
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
he's got a thing for thigh highs. if you wear makeup, he likes to see it completely ruined and smeared all over the place. he actually doesnt mind if you leave lipstick marks on his neck
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
hes got that lithe, muscular build. the mandos gave him an anatomically accurate cybernetic cock ala alto the chameleon from twin tail creations
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
i think he goes through phases. his sex drive is either non existent, or he's borderline insatiable.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
i think it depends. he can talk with you after or get back up and go about his day if he has to, but he does fall asleep quicker after sex though. its one of the few times he truly feels relaxed
𝒪𝓃ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝓁ℴℴ𝓀𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒻ℴ𝓇𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝓇𝓃༯ Going to the Orlando metro area with my man and my best friend.
𝒴ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝒾ℊℊℯ𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓂༯ Fulfillment, meaning, and peace. Also to become an actress but also a figure for other black women and guide us till I can't anymore.
𝒮ℴ𝓃ℊ 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓅ℯ𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓃ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎 ℴ𝓃 𝓇ℯ𝓅ℯ𝒶𝓉༯ I literally can't choose but artist that I'm rarely gonna skip are: Miguel, Beyoncé, Megan Thee Stallion, Iyla, & Arctic Moneys.
OMGGGG YAYYY i can YAP — ty for thinking of me 🥹!
ೀ hair color: copper (ginger)
ೀ favorite color: lavender purple .ᐟ
ೀ favorite drink(s): matcha, tea & GINGER ALE .ᐟ
ೀ one thing you love about yourself: im conceited—everything, lol jk : my willingness to help evb .ᐟ
ೀ if you can be an animal, what would you be?: a cat
ೀ dream place to visit: china or rome .ᐟ
ೀ one thing you’re looking forward to: celebrating my fren’s august birthdays .ᐟ
ೀ my biggest dream: becoming a neurologist & publishing research on tbi & colon cancer .ᐟ
ೀ songs on repeat: okayy by latto, kiss n tell by aespa, church by mariah the scientist & f*ck swag by nettspend .ᐟ
npt: @bloomflix @satorusdreamer @kireampie @yoonsucks @swvness @toorufairy @tokkushin @chequiiita @fadingalmondhandszine @antholoji @yuucide @daflex @evfers @chosayi @valberryboos @sugurusbeloved +++ anyone who would like to join i didn’t tag evb lol!!
ty for tagging me riri!! i'll answer on my personal blog 🙂↕️
𑣲𝄞 hair color : black
𑣲𝄞 favorite color : alice blue & pink
𑣲𝄞 favorite drink(s) : horchata & dr pepper
𑣲𝄞 one thing you love about yourself : hmmmm my fashion sense (its not consistent at all and thats why i love it)
𑣲𝄞 if you can be an animal, what would you be? : a possum :D
𑣲𝄞 dream place to visit : india and ireland
𑣲𝄞 one thing you're looking forward to : to finally be rid of church boy forever :D
𑣲𝄞 my biggest dream : to finish and graduate college. and become a counselor 🥹
𑣲𝄞 songs on repeat : free by 6lack, radar by lil hero, 3:16am by jhené aiko, champagne coast by blood orange, when the night calls by blood cultures & fantasy by dye (i never get tired of this song)
np tags but i lowk wanna get to know some of yall a little better : @lorelays @hysterotic @porcalinecunt @qrtem @thelibrarianangsti @chaoslibra @koretholics @lunebrew @wildflowersandbarley333 @kunaiiikittennn @bloomflix @spacedust-alley @feuillmorte @nyajiro
hair colour: dark brown (my roots are black tho they're growing out lol)
favourite colour: pink, blue, dark brown, white
favourite drinks: any kind of smoothie, apple juice, lychee tea
one thing you love about yourself: naturally have a lot of empathy?
if you can be an animal, what would you be?: a humpback whale (bc i like them but also i kinda wanna mess with orcas)
dream place to visit: wherever whales are, i wanna see a whale in this lifetime
one thing you're looking forward to: traveling with my friendss
my biggest dream: creating a safe space for queer people and being happy with my friends and and uh seeing a humpback whale irl
songs on repeat: kiss n tell - aespa, when it rains - paramore, crash out - tinashe, switchblade - beabadoobee, deep love - split end, さよならロストジェネレイション - asian kung-fu generation, anyway - ephraim, 明弦音 - MyGO!!!!!
no pressure tags! @pushingpesticides @cerezasefimeras
1. Hair Color: Dark brown
2. Favorite Color: Sage green
3. Favorite Drink: Pomegranate lemonade
4. Something I Love About Myself: I’m extremely outspoken about my politics and refuse to shut up
4. What Animal Would I Be?: Red panda
5. Dream Visit: Sri Lanka, birthplace of Theravada Buddhism
6. Looking Forward To: COLLEGE!
7. Biggest Dream: Living to see the fall of the powers that be
8. Songs On Repeat: Notos by The Oh Hellos
@l0velyl4vender, @shypervydolly, @sweatyfuntrash, @licoriceisback, open tags
౨ৎ˚ hair color: still black from when i combed out my locs
౨ৎ˚ favorite color: plum
౨ৎ˚ favorite drink: coca cola!
౨ৎ˚ one thing you love about yourself: my face :)
౨ৎ˚ if you could be any animal what would you be?: a jag
౨ৎ˚ dream place to visit: italy
౨ৎ˚ what's one thing you're looking forward to right now?: this fall semester
౨ৎ˚ your biggest dream: being a rich woman, traveling the world, no kids
౨ৎ˚ song that's permanently on repeat: crush by solange, damned by miguel, be like a woman by chris rainbow, i belong to you by rome. i can’t help it by michael, IDK IDK I CANT PICK ONE 😫
hair color: Brown but can also look black depending on the lighting
favorite color: Purple
favorite drink: Caffeinated fizzy stuff... Coke (I miss caffine)
one thing you love about yourself: My genius mind... I have a love hate relationship with the thing especially when it doesn't shut tf up when I'm trying to go to bed.
if you could be any animal, what would you be? A bird, possibly a magpie, an Australian Magpie.
dream place to visit: Orlando Florida Disney Land
what's one thing you're looking forward to right now? Writing and enjoying not having to worry about assignments whilst writing... but I can't decide play afop or write
your biggest dream: Becoming a full time writer. I would possible spontaneously combust if I ever got to write for Avatar or a movie
song that's permanently on your repeat: Changes all the time depending on the vibes of what I'm writing at the moment it's Unethical by Fazouzia specifically the live performance where she hits that heavenly high note
Favorite color: I’ve got three - baby yellow, pink, and red
Favorite drink: Matcha or London fog with lavender and/or strawberry
One thing you love about yourself: I am extremely empathetic, used to get made fun of for it but I wouldn’t give it up for anything
If you could be any animal, what would you be? Some type of big cat, like a tiger, jaguar, or caracal
Dream place to visit: Hobbiton in New Zealand
What’s one thing you’re looking forward to right now? Finding my groove again after moving to a new environment
Your biggest dream: Having the freedom to travel and write as much as I please or go back to school, whichever would come first
Song that’s permanently on your repeat: I constantly rotate between genres, but recently I’ve been hooked on The Water Is Fine - crimson edition by Chloe Ament, Nothing Is Lost by The Weeknd, and Pure Spirits of the Forest by James Horner from Avatar 2009 soundtrack.
Tags: @sirscampi @yaaraz @layingintheloam
Sorry guys I didn’t know who to tag, don’t wanna annoy anyone
Favorite drink: I'm really into tea so London fog with lavender 🪻or earl grey
One thing you love about yourself: my taste in movies and anime I love watching old or new movies and shows
If you could be any animal, what would you be: hyena all day baby!!!!
Dream place to visit: Tokyo japan or like a snowy forest with a cabin
What's one thing you're looking forward too right now: there's this coat at a thrift store that I really want but it's really expensive so I'm saving up to buy it
Your biggest dream: to be an animator and make my own show or movie 🍿🎥
Song that's permanently on your repeat: I listen to A LOT of music so I have a lot of songs from different cultures one song in particular is called Äijö by värttinä it sounds super scary and I like the vibe.
How do you think Maul would be with someone who isn’t a Sith, nor a Jedi? Like maybe someone who grew up on their own, without a family that leaned one way or the other.. Having their own values and beliefs about life and the Force that little to no one else has? Perhaps even a way that seems more connected to the Force given how personal it is? Or maybe the opposite?
i actually will address this in my fic the seam! but that focuses on pre-tpm maul, so ill answer this as a post lotho minor maul
maul is an opportunist, he'd probably pick their brain to determine what their fundamental beliefs are and if he can exploit them to become his apprentice
but outside of that, i think he'd find it very interesting. this persons relationship with the force defined by how they grew up and not attached to the philosophy of the sith or jedi.
i think of it this way as someone who grew up a Cradle Catholic: in catholicism, the laity relies on the teachings of the church and pope. its a very communal based relationship with god
protestants focus on a personal relationship with god
i view the sith and jedi as similar to the catholic church in that regard. i do think it would cause some tension and arguments with a non-jedi or sith force user, because he'd have to deconstruct his world views in a way. even though maul has denounced the sith, he still follows most of their teachings.
and regardless of what stance you're on, the sith and jedi sit on both extremes of the spectrum.
give in to your emotions vs let go of them entirely
over indulgence vs asceticism
both dogmas teach that if you slip into one side or the other, you will "fall" so to speak
so someone who is passionate, but doesnt let their emotions rule them? someone who wants material things, but doesnt over consume? someone who loves openly and fiercely, but doesnt let that love blind them? someone who wants to feel powerful, but doesnt trample others to achieve that power?
maul working with a force user who has a personal relationship with the force rather than a communal one tied to either the sith or jedi as a mediator? mind blowing
cw: nsfw, some medical gore, hurt/comfort, mild and brief panic attack
tropes: switch!maul, virgin!maul, virgin!reader
word count: 7,422
summary: Maul doesn't appreciate your avoidance while you're patching up an injury you indirectly caused.
a/n: here it is! the winner of my 300 follower celebration poll! idk how this ended up so long. ive written plenty of smutty stuff in this past, but i feel like this is my first full on smut fic. full on smut is a little hard for me to write. a lot of my writing is very subtle, emotions expressed through gestures and reading in between the dialogue. smut forces me to write characters that are fully present in their bodies which is. Difficult for my brain. my girlfriend doesnt have a tumblr, but her constant encouragement helped me write this fic <3 i could not have finished this beast without her. i hope yall enjoy!
The laceration runs eleven centimeters along Maul's ribs, deep enough that yellow knobs of fat pearl from the opening like spoiled cream. Not immediately fatal, but ugly nonetheless. With no droids available, you are the one tasked with suturing him up.
Maul denied the local anesthetic. You gave it to him anyway. He also objected to his tunic being cut off of him, which you also ignored.
"Have you no regard for patient consent?" he asked, mildly.
"I haven't renewed my license. So, no."
That was the last thing you said to him maybe twenty, thirty minutes ago. The hemostats oversized in your grip, the nylon thread sawing into your middle finger with every sutured knot . You squint under the harsh light to separate his crimson skin from the darker coil of exposed muscle.
Maul watches you. He's always watching you. You feel that he wants to say something before his mouth opens.
"Is this truly necessary? I have recovered from far worse with no medical intervention."
"My degree says otherwise."
Maul hums. "I know my body best and what it can handle. You are wasting your degree on me."
Loop, loop, pull, snip. Sixth stitch. You don't answer him, and he lets the silence sit for exactly as long as it takes you to thread the next pass.
"You drugged me," he says, conversationally. "Against my word."
"It's lidocaine. You can buy it over the counter."
"Mm." Maul tilts his head against the cot. "Curious how a doctor would decide what a body endures without consulting the one who lives in it." He pauses, then says softly, "Was your disregard for my lack of consent for my benefit? Or for yours?"
You tie off another knot and snip the excess. Maul rolls his head back up to the ceiling.
"You are very quiet tonight."
The needle slides in at a forty-five degree angle. "I'm focused."
"You are usually quite talkative when you work," he says. "That is why your silence is noted."
You want to retort— not give him the satisfaction, but you fear what would happen if you met his gaze. Loop, loop, pull, snip. Seventh stitch and you're finally done. The tools clang against the sterile tray when you drop them. You pull a bacta patch out of its wrapping, the acrid stench stinging your eyes. It's wet and sticky when you secure it over Maul's skin.
"I should install a mechnosuture capability on Spybot once I get the chance," Maul muses. "And program him to have proper bedside manner."
"I'm a surgeon, not a nurse."
An abrasion runs across Maul's right pectoral. Medically unremarkable, but needs to be irrigated of grit all the same. You switch out your gloves and prep a syringe, drawing saline until it's filled.
"This may burn a little," you say, still unable to look him in the eye.
He's silent, and gives no indication of pain when you press the plunger. Pink-brown runoff threads down his side. You refill the syringe and repeat the process until the fluid finally runs clear. The room is quiet except for the creak of your gloves as you dab away the excess fluid with gauze.
"You know," Maul says to the ceiling, "if you weren't so weak, neither one of us would be in this position."
You kept your feelings packed beneath layers of suture, saline, and gauze. It's easier to focus on the wound than the man underneath it. But this is what Maul does; burrow his claws into your skin and shred until there's nothing left but the ugly parts of you. He finally gets what he's been digging for.
"Then next time I'll let you rot."
One glove rips with a sharp snap as you yank them off. You don't look at Maul. Forceps and hemostats clatter into the basin— no autoclave, no proper sharps container, just the overflowing trash and disinfectant. The syringe is capped and thrown into the trash along with the gauze and suture packaging. Even with the gloves gone, Maul's dark and tacky blood stains your skin. Your hands won't stop trembling, so you keep moving, rattling drawers and slamming cupboard doors.
"You are angry," Maul says as if he's recalling the weather.
"Astute."
"At me."
"Obviously." You turn on the faucet and spray the tools. The water runs hot and pink down the drain, cooking the proteins in Maul's blood, filling the room with the stench of iron. "I'm not holding you hostage anymore. You can leave."
You close the drain on the other side of the sink and let it fill with water.
"You wish for me to walk after stitching me up?" Maul says. "I did not take you for someone who'd so readily undermine their handiwork, doctor."
"Didn't take you for someone who'd be concerned about ripping their stitches." You find the enzymatic cleaner in one of the cupboards and pretend to read the dilution ratio.
"I am not."
"Then why are you still here?"
"Because you'd be displeased if I left."
You uncap the cleaner without looking up, knuckles white around the bottle. You won't take the bait. "That's presumptuous."
"No. It is obvious."
You don't respond. You're not doing this. He can go jump out the airlock for all you care. The water ripples as you pour the cleaner in.
"Look at me."
You blink away tears threatening to spill. Maul won't get to you. Your fingers brush against an empty counter where you meant to find the scrubbing brush. You frown and look— it's just a few inches from where it normally sits. Just as you reach for it, the brush moves away from you, again. Your jaw clenches, and you bend down to pull another one from underneath the sink.
Maul says your name, sharp and commanding. Your lower lip trembles and you bite down until it hurts. The hemostats jerk away just as you reach for them.
"Look at me." His voice is harsher.
You reach for them again, and suddenly they're floating in the air, along with the forceps. They rise another inch, taunting you.
"You're running out of instruments."
The tools fly across the room with a flick of his wrist, slamming against the wall with a deafening clang that rings in your ears.
You whirl on him, and he looks…unimpressed? Tired? His expression swims behind your tears. The sink continues to fill. The room smells like iron and the sharp tang of cleaner. Above, the air recycler kicks on with a mechanical rattle.
"There you are," Maul says. "Avoidance does not suit you."
You bare your teeth. "You threw my shit across the room."
"You were ignoring me like a belligerent teenager."
Hot tears spill down your cheeks, and you furiously wipe them away. "You were nearly impaled."
Maul tilts his head. "I survived."
"Yeah, barely." You place the back of your hand over your mouth to hide the tremble of your lips. "I couldn't tell the difference between— between your muscle and skin!"
Maul is quiet for a moment, then says, softer, "So you elect to ignore me."
You laugh mirthlessly. "I hate you, actually." You turn back to the sink to turn the water off. "You are the most irritating person I've ever met."
Behind you, the cot creaks. You spin and shove at Maul's shoulders perhaps a bit harder than what was considered professionally responsible. His skin is warm, muscles solid under your palms. He lets you push him down without resistance, which infuriates you more. Maul watches you with that smug, satisfied tilt to his mouth.
You jam a finger into his chest.
"Sit. Down," you say through gritted teeth.
Maul blinks slowly. "Your commands contradict each other."
You inhale. You want to strangle him. There are words for this— curses at the tip of your tongue that would impress a Hutt. But nothing comes. The anger burned you mute and dumb. The only response you can conjure is to grab Maul's jaw and yank him forward into a kiss.
It's not gentle or sweet. Your lips are dry; his still against yours. He smells faintly of sweat and cassius tea. His lips are thin but lovely, and completely still against yours.
What did you do? What did you just do?
You pull back just enough to break the seal, manage to say the words "I'm—" before his hand locks behind your neck and yanks you down. You brace yourself against the cot with a hand next to Maul's head. He kisses you like he's afraid someone will steal you away— messy, desperate, bumping noses, and clashing teeth.. Neither of you knows what to do with your tongues, but you suck his taste into your mouth anyway.
You part again, breath fanning across his lips.
"I…" your voice comes out wrecked. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't—"
"My patience for your apologies wears thin." His hand tightens on the back of your neck and pulls you down again.
The kiss is slower this time, but still too hard. Your hand on the cot moves to Maul's chest, memorizing the faint ridges of scars hidden beneath ink. His teeth catch your lower lip and the whine that comes out of you is high and pathetic. He swallows it, answering with a groan that goes straight to your clit.
Warmth vibrates between your legs. Before you think better of it, you throw a leg over Maul's waist and settle astride him. The cot creaks under your weight, flimsi sheet ripping beneath your knees. Your core strains to keep from falling off the edges of the mattress. You're painfully careful not to press against his stitches, but stars, the rest of him—
The edge of his belt bites into your soft inner thighs, metal and leather dragging right against your pussy. It's filthy and perfect. Maul's a vision; gaze molten, lips parted and swollen, glistening from spit. His hands find your hips, while you rest yours on either side of his head.
"I'm tired of seeing you hurt."
Maul's eyes flick between yours. "Then you're in the wrong line of business."
Just a few hours ago, Maul clung to the railing as the space station tilted on its axis, sucked into a gravity well from a neighboring planet. You watched helplessly while he was bombarded with crumbled scaffolding, praying to whatever god was listening that Maul wouldn't be impaled.
"I know what line of business I'm in," you lower your face to his. "I just want you to feel something other than pain."
He pulls you forward by your hips. You brace yourself to hold above him, inches away, close enough that your breaths mingle. Confusion crosses Maul's face.
"No," you say. "I need you to tell me if this is something you want."
He huffs, jaw locked so tight that the tattoos on his face seem to shift. You wonder, briefly, if this is the first time someone has asked him what he wants. Maul tries to pull you again, fingers digging into your hips, almost angry. Your arms burn as you resist.
"Words, Maul."
"I have pulled you down twice," he says through gritted teeth. "What further testimony do you require?"
"Words."
"If I recall the night's events correctly, your regard for my consent, doctor, has been flexible."
"I know." You swallow, and watch mild surprise cross Maul's features. "You're right, I did that. That's why I'm asking now."
Something shifts behind his eyes— hunger, uncertainty, maybe even a trace of fear. You feel his nerves through the wavering grip, the way his inhale catches in his chest.
"It would not be…" he pauses, then tries again. "This is not unwelcome."
You tilt your head to the side and wait.
Maul's lip twitches, grip on your hips so tight you're sure it'll leave bruises.
"I am not opposed."
"Maul."
"What would you have of me—" it cracks out of him, harsh, too loud for the space between your bodies. Maul closes his eyes and inhales slowly. You think for one horrified second that you pushed him too far. Then Maul's hand moves from your hip. It rises slowly, pauses in your peripheral vision, before gently grazing your jaw. You lean into the touch, savoring the feeling of his rough and calloused skin against yours. When Maul speaks again, it's without armor, low and sincere.
"I want you."
Your heart jolts in your chest. He feels the same, maybe for as long as you have, and neither of you said a word. Maul, a man whose life is defined by violence wanted something that would not end in a river of blood. Heat gathers on your cheeks. You lean forward and press your foreheads together.
"Me too."
The words barely leave your mouth before Maul surges up just enough to kiss you again. It's still clumsy, too much tongue and desperation, but there's something different in it now— almost reverent. His hand stays at your jaw like he's afraid you'll leave.
You let your weight settle fully on him, careful of the bacta patch. Maul shifts slightly, just enough to push himself higher on the cot. You roll your hips and a broken sound escapes you as the ridges of his belt drag against your clit. Something warm and definitely not part of his belt presses against your thigh. Both of you pause to look at each other— Maul's so close you can count the threads of blood vessels in his golden eyes.
"I have not…" Maul sighs, frustrated. "This is foreign to me."
You huff, not without mirth. "Yeah, me too."
You watch him as you roll your hips. Maul's eyes flutter closed, brow ridges pinched as low whimpers leave his parted lips. How long have you imagined this? Nights spent building fantasies from lingering touches and too long looks, desperate to finally make Maul fall apart. Now you have him, and you left your brain somewhere on that space station.
You rock down again, slower, watching him. Maul's hisses— the friction of your panties dragging against your puffy clit. He guides your hips with effortless strength, eyes heavy and composure failing with each pass of your hips.
When the belt scrapes your inner thigh again, you pause and sit back on your haunches. You trace down his torso, cataloguing the ridges of scars hidden underneath ink. His skin is thin, rolling underneath your fingers; you have to remind him to drink more water later. Your touch stops just above his belt and Maul's gaze flicks from your hand, then back to you.
"That has to stay," he says, jaw working.
"I know."
In all your years of residency and practice, you've seen many patients more cyborg than flesh. That belt, his control module, is his life line. You've only seen it in rads; the way his torso gnarls into the graft collar, actuators and durasteel fused into the vertebrae of his spine to support his legs. Soft tubing replicating the functions of his missing organs— aorta severed, yet somehow Maul lives.
He maintains his legs in private, either by himself or with Icarus and Scorn. In two years, the closest he's come to acknowledging what Kenobi left of him is a blunt "it functions" at the end of exams. You never pressed. The line of his shoulders when you pressed him about it told you enough about his relationship with his body. You see that tension now.
"We can stop here…" you say softly. "If you don't—"
"Do not patronize me," Maul spits. "Had I not wanted this, you'd be dead."
You lean over him again, placing a gentle kiss on Maul's cheek. It catches him off guard.
"I know. I also know how you love to push yourself," you place a finger over his lips before he can speak. "I'll take your word for it, okay? I trust you."
Maul stares at you, the tension easing in his shoulders by a few degrees. You lean back and adjust yourself to hover over his thighs. Without his tabard and tunic, the button to his pants is just visible underneath the belt. You bite your lip as you unfasten the pants, watching Maul's face as you drag them down. It takes some awkward finagling to untuck the fabric from his knees, but the garment is eventually tossed to the floor, leaving Maul in his black boxers.
The Mandalorians spared no expense, it seems. Metal plating carved into the shapes of his thighs, his lower abdomen a weave of carbon fiber that dipped underneath the hem of his boxers. Underneath, his cock bulges through, the subtle ridges visible through the folds of the fabric.
Just as you run your hands up his thighs, Maul grabs your wrist.
"We are outmatched," he gestures to your shirt. "Off."
You could make him ask properly. The idea of Maul begging has crossed your mind from time to time, but you file it away for another night. Instead, you settle between his thighs, cross your arms, and pull your shirt over your head. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you reach behind you, struggling to unclasp your bra. You toss it across the room like ripping a bandaid off.
The cold room bites at your flushed skin, and Maul's hands make you jump— large and calloused in the pattern of his saber hilt. They trail up your sides with a touch that's not timid, but uncertain, like you're uncharted land. You squirm under his gaze, quietly grateful for the pressure of your heel against your pussy. Anything to alleviate the throb as Maul's fingers trail higher on your ribs, pausing just below the bottoms of your breasts.
"Does all human skin do this?" he asks, fingers ghosting along your goosebumps, causing you to shiver.
"It's um…" you swallow as a thumb brushes the side of your breast. "an autonomic response of hair follicle muscles. Usually due to cold, fear, or some strong emotions…"
"Mm. Fascinating," Maul says sarcastically.
Your little laugh chokes into a whine when he finally, finally, engulfs your breasts, nipples hardening underneath his palms. Maul takes his time, cataloguing all your little whimpers and whines as he massages your breasts.
His voice breaks the trance, low and rough on the edges. "Come here."
Before you can process the words, Maul pulls you forward by the waist until you're hovering over him again. He maintains eye contact as he draws a nipple into his mouth, tongue warm and a little rough against the sensitive bud.
"Maul…" you moan, head dropping forward and right onto the tip of one of his horns. You yelp as it pokes you, and Maul immediately draws his mouth away.
"Be mindful—"
"I forgot they were there," you giggle.
"How could you forget?"
"'Cause you were distracting me…"
Maul, stars above, growls and mouths at your breast again. You sigh and drop your head again, careful of his horns. You start moving again, the girth and ridges of his cock divine against the seam of your pussy. His mouth loses its purchase on your breast as you two lose yourselves in the rhythm. The cot creaks as you rock. Your foreheads meet, and you kiss each other when the angle is right, licking and biting at each other's lips. There's no urgency in it, only indulgence as you learn the curve of your bodies.
Maul's hands eventually leave your waist to grip your ass, hard. He pulls you forward, hips rising to meet yours. You moan into his mouth, letting him have this, have you. Until you grind down harder, off the beat he set, and Maul whines. It sends fire through your veins. You want to bottle that sound, engrave it into your memory. He is yours. You are the only one that could get that sound out of him, the only one that ever will.
You trail sloppy, wet kisses down his jaw to his neck. Maul's hips stutter, and you grab onto his jaw and gently pull it to the side, granting more access to his skin. You nip and lick then fasten your mouth over one spot and suck. Maul hisses, his cock twitching between your thighs.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Giving you a hickey," you mouth at his skin. "'s a bruise."
"…You know that will not be visible."
"Yeah." You drag your lips to a new spot at the junction of his neck and collarbone. "So I can leave more of them."
Maul has no answer for that. He allows you to work at his neck, occasionally meeting your lips for sloppy kisses when you drag your tongue along his jaw. Eventually you kiss your way down over his collarbone, down his sternum, mapping each tattoo and scar with your lips and teeth. You cast a quick glance to the bacta patch as you bypass it, just to make sure nothing has ripped and he isn't bleeding.
The carbon fiber weave of his lower abdomen is smooth and faintly warm under your lips. Maul tenses when you move there, but you kiss him no different, because it doesn't matter to you. What matters is his comfort, and he has yet to tell you to stop.
You sit up just as you reach the hem of his boxers, settling back over his thighs. Maul's muscles strain when you finally cup his cock through the fabric. It's hot and thick under your palm, and his hips twitch as you trace every throbbing ridge with your thumb. Maul's hand suddenly snaps to your wrist and you stop, looking up at him with worry.
"Okay?" you ask quietly.
Maul's chest heaves as he tries to control his breath. "You do not have to…touch it."
You blink. "But I want to."
He inhales and slowly unfurls his fingers from your wrist. Before he pulls away, you lean down and kiss his knuckles and look at him through your lashes. You hook your fingers under the hem of his boxers and pull them down. Maul plants his heels and lifts his hips, hissing as the movement slightly tugs on his stitches.
"Easy," you coo, sliding the boxers off.
"I am indifferent to pain," he says to the ceiling.
"Hmm, but I think you'd be really grumpy if I stopped to fix your sutures if you ripped them."
Maul doesn't respond because you got his boxers off, and he's very pointedly not looking at you. While you, on the other hand, marvel at the sight of him. His cock is thicker than you felt, like a human's mostly, except for the lines of ridges that ran along the underside. The synth-skin was the same shade of ruby red skin, even engorged with faux veins that threaded along his shaft. The skin stretched to the seams of his inner thighs, cut off by the edges of plating that made up his legs.
"You're beautiful…"
Maul looks at you skeptically. "Most would disagree with you. I am meant to frighten."
"Not me," you replied. "You should know that by now."
Whatever retort Maul planned died on his tongue when you traced your thumb along the underside of his cock. With no precum, the synth-skin is dry. You'll have to remedy that later. He grits his teeth, hands curled at his sides.
You look at him through your eyelashes. "I want you to show me how to make you feel good."
"I don't know," Maul says a little too quickly. Then, through gritted teeth, "I only ever…relieved myself when I couldn't ignore it."
"Maul…"
"Do not," he snaps, and props himself on his elbows. "My body is a tool. I've had no need for indulging in hedonistic habits."
"Mmm…yet here you are."
Maul has no retort for you, and you relish in the fact that you've rendered this man speechless.
"If you're immune to pain and unfamiliar with pleasure…" you spit into your hand. "Then this should feel really good, Maul."
You stroke him slowly from base to tip. A broken moan tears out of him, hips jerking into your fist.
"Tell me," you keep your pace slow, partly because you're unsure, mostly to watch Maul squirm. "Tell me what feels good."
He does, not gracefully, but it comes out of him in fragments. Lower, tighter, there, twist your hand on the head, don't stop. A man, who'd once been stripped of all dignity, narrating his own pleasure. You give it all to him the instant that he asks. Your panties damp and ruined watching Maul release control and fall apart all from your hand. Your clit ached, desperate for friction, and you almost reached between your legs just for some pressure.
Maul's head drops back, a hand finding your thigh, just to hold onto something. He's very noisy, you discover. His cock is perfect and pretty, but without lube or precum, your spit from before begins to dry. You can't have that.
You lick a slow, wet stripe up the underside. The synth-skin is almost tasteless, but the wrecked sound he makes more than makes up for it. He stares down at you, lips parted, lids heavy, and covered in hickeys that no one can see but you know are there. This was all you wanted; the man that you've loved for years just to feel good.
You take him into your mouth. It's clumsy, you have to open your jaw wider to avoid your teeth, but Maul doesn't seem to care either way. You flatten your tongue against his shaft, covering what you couldn't take with your hands. Maul's hand tightens in your hair with a gasp.
You feel the exact moment pleasure fractures into panic— his breath turning sharp and shallow. You lift your head.
"Maul?"
His eyes screw shut, head shaking, like he's at war with himself. You release him completely and crawl back up his waist, careful not to accidentally rub his cock with your knee.
"Hey," you gently cup his face. "It's okay. Talk to me."
Maul opens his eyes when his breathing evens out; he looks uncertain, frightened.
"I have only known pain…" he says. You watch him struggle to come up with the words. "This…I do not know what to do with this." Maul looks at you. "You undo me. I do not— I have no—"
He shakes his head again, then a second later pulls you down into a fierce kiss. It's desperate, like if he pressed hard enough, slotted his lips against yours quick enough, that your souls would merge into one. Maul's touch slides down your back until they find the waistband of your pants and pull. It's graceless, urgent, and he rambles against your lips like he's unraveling.
"You have tortured me long enough, you will let me—" He growls against your mouth, fingers fumbling with the buttons before he rips them open. "Let me have you. You've torn me apart for an hour, it is your turn. Sit up, take these off."
You almost let him, but you know Maul. He treated every scar as proof of prowess, every inch of himself as something to be measured by whether it could kill. He's not reaching for you out of appetite. He's fleeing into you because giving is where he can hide. Giving means he's in control.
You catch his wrists, gently, and make Maul look at you.
"Are you back? Okay?"
His jaw tightens, his lower lip twitching, then something gives, and he answers honestly. "Yes."
"Okay."
You let his wrists go, and he doesn't hesitate pulling your pants down. You let him, because if retreating to your body is where he needs to go, then you let him. The pants come off along with your underwear, and you are suddenly, painfully aware that you're bare above him. He drinks you in like a starved predator.
"Come here," he says.
"But your ribs—"
"Are intact. Do not make me repeat myself."
"I—"
Maul's voice drops, rough and certain. "Come. Here." A gentle tug of the Force pulls you forward until your knees bracket his head.
"You think me so weak," both his thumbs rest on the seams of your inner thighs, "that you would crush me?"
"That's not—" your face burns. "I have a medical degree, Maul. I don't want your—"
"Then trust it," Maul says, flatly. "Let me see you."
It's your turn for your composure to dissolve. His thumbs stroke down your outer folds, then gently part you. You're dripping, arousal sticky on your inner thighs. No one has seen you like this, and your hands fly up to cover your face.
"No." Maul, damn him, sounds amused. "It is your turn. You will not hide from me."
"It's different," you whine and hate yourself for it.
"It's identical." His eyes flick back to your pussy. "You are very wet."
"Maul."
"I am merely making an observation."
His thumb drags through your inner folds. You're so swollen and sensitive that the lightest touch forces you to brace yourself against the wall. Maul does it again, and now you can hear how slick you are.
"What feels good?" His exhale warms your cunt, fingertip teasing your tight entrance. "Here?" He traces back up to rub your clit with slow, deliberate pressure. "Or here?"
Your hips jerk, the pleasure both relief and agony simultaneously. "I—shit."
Maul circles your clit again then removes his thumb. You whine and nearly crumble towards the wall in frustration.
"Words, doctor." His voice is low, commanding, and goes straight to your clit. You worry your lower lip between your teeth, thighs already trembling around his head.
"There…on my clit," you manage. "If— if you pull the hood back, it's more sensitive."
"Mm. Noted."
Maul touches you like he fights: with precision and no mercy. He discovers the flat of his thumb makes your gasp and quiver. He learns that your clit likes the heavy, unhurried circles. He's a fast study, this man, he always has been. And you're melting on top of him, crying out into the medbay, one hand splayed against the wall, the other curled uselessly on your thigh.
Then Maul moves his hand, palm up, his index finger presses against your entrance, pushing into the first knuckle.
"No one has ever…" you swallow. "I haven't even used toys. I—I barely use my fingers.."
He pauses for a moment, then chuckles, and stars, you hate him. You love him, and you hate him. He works his finger to the second knuckle— and it glides in easy. Like you're sucking him in.
"No one?" His voice is low, almost a growl, and you feel it against your thigh. "You are a surgeon for the underworld. Shot as many people as you have saved, and no one?"
"Maul—"
He smiles against your thigh, wicked and possessive. "I find that extraordinarily satisfying."
Heat floods your face and between your legs. "You're insufferable—"
"I am honored," he corrects with faux hurt, then all the amusement bleeds out of him. His finger is still inside you. "Tell me if you wish to stop."
"Okay." You exhale and adjust yourself so he has better access, one knee stretched out so your legs form an "L" shape. "Don't stop."
Maul's finger works into you. His finger is thick, rough from years of gripping a lightsaber, and reaches deeper than you could ever achieve.
"Stars, Maul," you babble. "It's— right there. Yes."
"I am a wonderful student," he says, not smug but certain, and it makes you laugh.
Maul curls his finger and finds something spongy inside you that makes your hips jolt. Pressure builds deep inside you, and you let him know how good that feels. Half-finished words leave on broken sighs, good and please, and his name.
"Maul, you're—" you gasp as his palm rubs your swollen clit. "You're perfect. You're so fucking perfect."
Breath punches out of him against you. He pulls his finger out of you and yanks you down onto his mouth with zero warning. There's no finesse, just the sudden, scalding heat of his tongue dragging across the seam of your cunt. You try to lift off his mouth, overwhelmed and oversensitive, but Maul hooks his arms around the back of your thighs like durasteel chains. The thick bands of muscle in his forearms flex as he pulls you back down, forcing your cunt against his mouth. He sucks your folds between his lips, groaning into the sensitive flesh.
"M-Maul," you mewl, "I— I can't—I—"
Your thighs clamp around his head, horns pricking the soft flesh of your thighs, but you don't care. Maul slows, licking broad strokes over your clit. The sound is filthy— the slick of your pussy and his spit, your whines, and Maul's satisfied groans as you twitch and come apart on his tongue.
He grabs your ass, guiding your hips into a slow roll on his face. He flattens his tongue, and he forces your hips far enough that your clit catches against his nose with every movement. You're saying things; you don't know what, but some of it makes Maul chuckle, and even earns a slap on your ass.
Pleasure coils so viciously tight that you feel it in your toes. Your rapid pants leave you dizzy, forcing you to lean against the wall for support. The noises you make sound foreign to your ears, desperate, wrecked, and completely mindless.
Maul locks you in place again, his tongue now working circles around your clit. Your thighs tremble, you can't decide to either hold onto the wall or thread your fingers between his horns. Maul growls like he's angry, and the vibration, the heat, how wound up you've been for the past hour crashes together all at once.
Your orgasm rips through you so violently your back bows and you nearly collapse over his face. Wave after brutal wave hits you while he keeps licking, greedy and merciless, until you're shaking and tapping desperately at his arm.
Maul lets you ease back just enough to remove the pressure. His chin and mouth shine with your slick, eyes black with hunger and something almost reverent. He drags one last slow lick up your slit just to hear you squeak and try to squirm away.
"I would like to do that again."
You smile and shake your head, still catching your breath. "Give me a second. I don't have two hearts like you do."
Maul's fingers idly trace your thighs. "I have noticed no shortage of stamina complaints from you tonight."
"Keep it up and I'll leave you like this." You don't mean it and Maul knows that. You lift off him on unsteady arms and slide down until you're settled over his hips. His cock rests heavy against his thigh, flushed dark, ridges visibly more swollen than they were before. For a second you just stare, heart hammering in your chest. His bravado from earlier frays the longer you look, replaced with something wanting, almost desperate.
You lean back and gently trace your fingers over his cock, savoring the way he tenses underneath you.
"I want this," you say. "But only if you do too…"
Maul swallows thickly, hips twitching underneath your hand. For a brief second, the flicker of the same panic from your mouth earlier flashes across his face. It leaves him just as quickly, and he looks up at you, conveying such sincerity it almost shocks you.
"I do."
His hold settles loosely on your waist, watching you with fixed intensity. You wet your lips and spread your legs wider, moving his cock so you can slide it through your dripping cunt. Each ridge is heaven against your engorged clit, both of your moans mixing together as you slather his shaft with slick.
Your gaze meets his as you line up his cock with your entrance and sink down. The stretch from his blunt head burns as it eases inside of you. You hiss through your teeth, and Maul's nails dig crescents into the soft skin of your waist.
"Easy," he growls. "Do not— do not rush it."
"I know how this works—" you mutter, cheeks burning. "My body will adjust."
"Then you should be patient." Your gazes lock. "Breathe."
You bite your lip as you ease down another inch, stuffed too full already, even though Maul wasn't fully inside you yet. He holds perfectly still while you work his cock inside you, lower lip caught between his teeth. Your head lolls to the side, brows pinched as Maul's pelvis finally presses flush against yours.
One fist curls against his hip, the other gripping onto his hand. Your cunt twitches around him as you try to relax your muscles, Maul's head tipping back against the cot.
"You are…" his voice cracks. "You are exquisite…I have never known want like this."
You lean forward to press your foreheads together, whimpering as his cock shifts inside you. For a long moment you just lay there, breathing each other in. You lower your mouth to meet his, tongues brushing as your lips slotted together. Then you start to move, more grinding than bouncing, a slow careful roll of your hips. It's awkward at first as you try to find your rhythm, but it gradually becomes good and you're entranced from how deep his cock is inside you.
Maul's eyes glaze over, his lips parted, soft and wrecked noises leaving him with every breath, completely undone by you. The man forged into a weapon, only a servant to the dark side, whining because of you. Because of your soft, tight pussy clenching around his cock.
Pleasure surges through you as your puffy clit rubs the ridges at the base. His name leaves your lips like a prayer as you pick up the pace, sitting back up and placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself.
"Maul," you mewl. "'s so big. You feel so good."
He answers by yanking you back down, engulfing you in his arms, panting against your temple. One hand grips your ass, assisting you as you rock your hips together. It's so good until your thighs begin to burn, your muscles trembling with each movement. You try to fight through it, but inevitably slow and tremble in Maul's arms.
He notices immediately, grip on your ass tightening to steady you. "Tired?" he teases, but looks at you softly, almost fond.
"Yeah…this is harder than it looks," you grin, forehead dropping to his shoulder, idly kissing the skin there.
Maul presses a kiss to your temple, and something in your chest tightens. "Then allow me."
He plants his heels and thrusts into you slow and deep, careful not to jostle his stitches. Each smooth stroke drags his ridges along your walls, pulling a broken moan from your throat. He picks up more heat, each snap of his hips eliciting a wet slap of skin in the quiet medbay. The angle hits unexplored spots in you, and you grip onto Maul's shoulders for dear life, nails digging into his skin. Unfortunately, your hamstrings still scream at you.
"Maul, wait," you try and shift your legs, but the muscles seize tighter. "Ah, my hamstrings are really sore. It's getting uncomfortable…"
He stills inside of you, breathing out, the huff of almost-laughter against your hair. "Humans are so fragile."
"Shut up," you whine, nuzzling his neck. "It's not my fault we start falling apart at thirty."
"Hm. Truly a pity."
You laugh, trembling and impaled on his cock. Maul's lips curl into a smile against your scalp. Then, his arms lock around you, voice dropping.
"Hold onto me."
"What—"
Maul sits up with you in his lap and pulls out with a slick and obscene sound that makes you both groan. In one fluid motion, he stands, keeping you anchored with his hands under your ass. He hisses when the movement tugs on his stitches, but he ignores your protests. The room tilts, and Maul sets you back down on the bed, grabbing your knees and dragging you forward until your ass is at the very edge of the mattress.
"Maul, your stitches—"
"A problem for later." He stands between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and guiding himself back in with the other.
"There," he exhales when he's fully seated inside you. "That's better."
The new angle is devastating, cock head right against that sensitive spot inside you. Maul fucks you slow and deep, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. He's panting, nearly incoherent from the sensation of your cunt hugging his cock. You close your eyes, head dropping to the side.
"No," Maul says suddenly, voice a rasp. "Look at me."
You obediently turn your head back to him. He's beautiful, his gaze wide and unguarded as it stare into yours. He mumbles your name, and you respond by hooking your ankles around his waist and tugging Maul forward. He hooks his arms under your knees, and folds you until there's no space between your sweaty, slick bodies. His thrusts turn shallow, every movement dragging your puffy clit against his pelvis.
"Fuck me—" you whine, cupping Maul's face. "Please. You're so good, so good to me."
Something in him cracks open at your words. He shudders, ridges of his cock swelling inside you. His rhythm falters, jaw slack, voice climbing to a broken pitch he swallowed down an hour ago. You brace for Maul to go rigid, and disassociate from his body, but he stays, and presses your foreheads together.
"That's it," you whisper, cupping his face. "Stay with me. It's okay, come for me."
Maul's thrusts grow erratic. He buries his face in your neck while you cling to him, nails clawing down his back. Maul comes with a cry of your name, a broken, choked sound. His hips stutter, cock pulsing inside you as his entire body trembles. You don't feel him spill inside you, which is okay, less clean up and no need for condoms.
"Oh, Maul," you mouth at his temple. "You did so good."
His breath fans against your neck, but he doesn't slow. Maul plants one knee on the bed and thrusts into you again, thumb reaching between your bodies to find your clit.
"Oh shit," you jolt. "You don't have to—"
"You will finish," Maul says, voice raspy and ruined. "I want you to come on me. Let me feel it."
He hisses, thrusts sloppy, cock twitching as he overstimulates himself. It's filthy, desperate, your voice climbing higher as he works your clit in circles. The pleasure coils tight, and you squirm on the bed, babbling nonsense as your body draws up.
"That's it," Maul snarls, possessive and greedy. "There she is. Let go."
You shatter, the orgasm racing through you in devastating waves. Your cunt squeezes his cock, and Maul groans like it hurts, but works you through every pulse of it anyway. Your hips twist away when it becomes too much. Maul finally stills, hand leaving your pussy to brace next to your head.
Neither of you moves for a long time. The air is thick and humid with the smell of sex. Your breaths mingle together, Maul still buried inside you and slowly going soft.
You reach up and thread your fingers through his horns, stroking the base with your thumb. Maul groans softly, eyes fluttering shut. Eventually he shifts and carefully slips out of you, lowering himself next to you on the cot.
You turn to your side and check his bacta patch for any blood. Maul watches you with a raised brow, something between exasperation and wonder on his face.
"No blood," you sigh, voice hoarse. "Any pain?"
Maul scoffs but not without mirth. "You can't help yourself, can you?"
"Nope," you smile. His hand comes up to cover yours, thumb idly rolling over your knuckles.
The quiet settles back in. You're exhausted and sticky, arousal going cool between your thighs.
"I'm sorry for earlier…" you mumble. "I froze when that scaffolding fell. You got hurt because of me and you were right. I was weak."
Maul is quiet for a long moment. Then his hand rests on your cheek, forcing you to look at him.
"You froze because it matters to you that I live. That itself is not weakness. And I am not that easy to kill." His thumb brushes over your cheek. "Besides, your outburst led us to a desirable outcome, did it not?"
You laugh softly, and turn into the touch, placing a kiss on his palm.
