my name is lana. i'm 23. i'm a single mom, working full time and now in university studying business analytics.
this blog is entirely self-indulgent, focused on whatever wild fantasy i come up with throughout the week that i have to write down and post during the weekend otherwise i will combust.
i'm a complainer, hardcore. if i could live off of coffee and writing fanfiction all day, i would. alas, fate hasn't smiled upon me yet, so i write for free.
i like writing lengthy fics rather than one shots and all of them turn into full stories, so my fics have categories and then those categories have links to the full chapter lists because tumblr limits us to... i think 100 links per post?
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.
summary: having to distance yourself from wolffe after a slip up is a lot harder than you thought it would be
tags/warnings: 18+ for suggestive stuff, angst! with a happy(ish?) ending, forbidden relationship, love confessions, kinda idiots in love, wolffe is down bad and not sorry about it, reader is lowkey delirious and v emotional bc of lack of sleep, allusions to sex but otherwise sfw
song: on your side — the last dinner party
prompts: #21 "when's the last time you actually slept?", #9 "come lie with me, let me hold you."
a/n: okay it's official, wolffe is my fav clone to write for. um, idk if anyone else has ever been so exhausted but not able to fall asleep to the point where you’re literally distraught? I hope this is not a unique experience otherwise this fic makes no sense lol
event masterlist / star wars masterlist / join my taglist / wc: 3.1k
requests are closed, dialogue prompt is in bold :)
You messed up. Big time.
The memory of your misdeeds still replayed in your mind, days, weeks later. Your mind lingered on how his rough hands felt against your skin, how his breath mingled with yours, bodies melding together. His words haunted you, adulations whispered in a tone you’d never heard, sentiments you wouldn’t soon forget, no matter how you tried to.
Wolffe had invaded your brain even before you'd fallen into bed with him, but now it was inescapable.
You'd known it was a mistake as it was happening, that stepping over the line would do something irreversible, something you couldn't follow up on. The guilt of doing that to Wolffe, of letting him believe it was something that could be, was eating you alive. If you didn't feel so strongly for him then all of this would be so much easier, and could be written off as a simple blunder — but nothing about this was simple.
Wolffe had been shipped into an active warzone only hours later, and though worry pulled at your heart more than ever, you couldn't help but be partly relieved. When he’d returned, you felt even more conflicted.
He had caught your eyes from across the hangar, something distinctly timid and unlike him in the way he looked at you, and you had to tear your gaze away and leave the space. You couldn’t be anywhere near him. It hurt too much. You knew he’d noticed that you were avoiding him, it would be impossible given how close you were before everything had transpired, but he obviously had the restraint not to mention it.
Sleep was eluding you because of it. Pulling away from Wolffe felt like a physical pain, like the connection you had unwittingly created through the force was being sawed at, and you could feel every ridge of the knife as it cut. If anything, it was proof that you had become too close, that your connection ran too deep.
Now, duty demanded you be in the same room as him, and it was every bit as excruciating as you had expected. You were stood beside him in the command centre, and while your eyes were plastered to Plo Koon, all of your attention was taken by Wolffe.
You could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on you as you spoke, almost feel his breath against your cheek, the warmth of his body beside you. His presence was intoxicating, and even when you closed your eyes you weren’t free of it. His unique presence in the force reached out for you, and while you knew he wasn’t doing it intentionally, you wished he would stop. The familiar feeling made it so much harder not to fall into his arms and forget everything that held you back; a warm blanket, a comforting steadiness, deep red in colour, like the very last sight of the sun against the horizon.
You escaped as soon as you could, scampering from the command room at the first opportunity, but it seemed that Wolffe was done with the silent treatment. He grabbed your arm as you made it out into the corridor, dragging you into a quieter corner of the ship, a hall that ran to a dead end. His gaze was serious when you finally met it with your own, and it turned your stomach. You didn’t know if he was angry or hurt, nothing was given away in his demeanour.
Finally he spoke in a low voice, “are you alright?”
You blinked up at him, wondering how he could be so concerned by you at this moment. His hand still gripped your arm gently, his eyes darting between yours, brows furrowed. He took in your features like he’d never seen you before, and the scrutiny made your gaze drop.
“I’m fine” you murmured, trying to keep your voice even.
“You weren’t in your room last night”
Your eyes raised back to him as your heart skipped a beat, “how do you know that?”
“I went to see you” he confessed, never wavering in his serious gaze.
“Wolffe…” you sighed, looking up at him with a pained expression, “you shouldn’t have done that”
He huffed, stepping into your space, “why not?”
You exhaled slowly, “you know why”
Something in him stiffened, and he took his hand away from you, “what were you doing?”
“I just… I couldn’t sleep” you admitted, running a hand over your face.
“Why not?”
You sighed at his persistence, “it doesn’t matter”
“It matters to me” he muttered, his eyes flashing with hurt. He tentatively brought his hand up to your cheek, running his thumb under your eye. You knew you must look exhausted, and closed your eyes to let the feeling calm you. “When's the last time you actually slept?”
“I don’t know” you spoke quietly, almost ashamedly. Your eyes fluttered open to see the stern look he was giving you.
“Sarad’ika” he whispered the name he called you in only the most quiet of moments, drawing closer so his forehead almost touched yours. “If you won’t…” he sighed, “if you won’t let me take care of you then you need to take care of yourself”
Your heart seized up in your chest. “I—” you didn't know what to say, everything was running through your mind but it was all getting caught in your throat.
Your stuttering was interrupted by the sound footsteps reverberating off of the walls of the otherwise empty hall. Wolffe backed away from you, though he still started at you intently, even as someone walked between the two of you. Unlike him, it snapped you out of it.
“I— I uh… I'm going to my quarters now” you mumbled out, tongue tripping over your words.
You turned quickly, stalking down the hall in wide strides and not daring to look back.
It was the middle of the night and still, sleep wouldn’t take you. The frustration was getting on top of you again, and you paced back and forth in the small space of the ship that was yours. Hot tears sprang to your eyes, wetting your cheeks, and your hands gripped at your hair as if it would alleviate the tension in your head. You had been silently crying long enough that your head had begun to ache, and you silently begged to gods you didn’t believe in to let you sleep, to shut your mind of for just a few minutes so you might finally slip into unconsciousness.
It had been coming to this every night, where you felt as if you were being driven insane because sleep eluded you.
With a small sob, you darted for the door. A distraction, that’s what you needed now. You might wander the halls of the ship as you had in previous nights, or hole up in a cupboard somewhere so you could cry until all your tears were spent. You grabbed your robe as you went, clutching the thick material in a tight fist, but as the door zipped open you almost collided with something, someone.
Wolffe stood tall in the doorway, his hand raised as if he were about to knock. He took in your distressed state, eyes widening at the recognition of tears staining your face, and he reached out to you on instinct, taking ahold of your arms.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay” he immediately began to soothe you in a voice that was too soft for him. It only made your breathing more unstable, and you choked on your sobs. Wolffe backed you into the dark room and closed the door behind him, “what’s going on?”
The confusion — the worry — it was so plain in his eyes. It made you feel sick to your stomach. You dropped your robe to the floor.
“I just—“ your words were halted by your own sob, and you hid your face in your palms, “I’m so tired, Wolffe”
His hands wrapped around your wrists, his skin warm against yours, and he peeled your hands away from your face. He snaked his arms around your waist without another word, offering the relief you would never ask for but so desperately needed. You took it unashamedly, burying your face in his chest, letting yourself relish in the comfort of his touch. As your weeping continued, he held you tightly, one hand on the back of your head to stroke your hair as he whispered comforting words.
The exhaustion had clearly got to you. There was simply no other reason for this display of raw emotion.
As your breathing calmed, the storm in your mind subsiding to a grey fog, Wolffe’s grip loosened. He pulled back and took your face in his hand, and you couldn’t help but lean into its warmth just a little.
“Now,” he spoke quietly, “are you going to tell me why you can’t sleep?”
You sighed deeply as you averted your gaze, “do I have to?”
“No” he replied, “but it could help”
Your eyes creeped across his handsome features, taking in every mark, every freckle. You couldn’t burden him with everything that clouded your mind, you wouldn’t place another weight upon his shoulders when the war already saw him stretched so thin.
You shook your head, releasing yourself from his grasp and turning away, “it won’t help, it’ll only make things worse”
“Stop shutting me out” Wolffe’s voice was stern as he spoke up, and you looked up to find his brow furrowed deeply, the hurt evident in his eyes and the downturn of his lips.
“I have to” you said quietly, almost a whisper.
“No you don’t” Wolffe huffed, moving to crowd you against the table behind you, “I don’t understand why you’ve been acting like this, why you won’t look at me all of a sudden. I thought—”
He stopped himself. In all honesty, you hadn’t been thinking an awful lot about what Wolffe may be thinking about what had transpired, and as much as you knew you should bury the whole incident, move on and forget, a part of you needed to know. What he thought, what he was thinking now, what he felt. You shouldn’t ask, but you couldn’t stop yourself.
“Thought what?”
You could see that he regretted letting the words slip. “I thought things would be…” he trailed off for a moment, searching your eyes with a hint of desperation, “I don’t know, I just thought it’d be different from this, after—“
His teeth ground together. A quiet curse escaped him as he hung his head in defeat. He knew as well as you that this conversation would only breed more unease. You swallowed, taking a moment to centre yourself.
“We can’t be like that” you muttered.
You knew it was cruel, that he didn’t deserve to hear it put so bluntly, nor did he deserve what had already happened. You had been cruel, consistently, in entertaining this idea of the two of you, and even crueller in making him believe it could be. That was why this was necessary. It couldn’t go on.
He was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke, it was uncharacteristically timid, his words almost shy.
“Would it be so bad?” he asked.
“Yes! Well, no it— but we can’t, I mean— I don’t know!” you could feel your breath becoming short again, and Wolffe placed his hands on your shoulders.
“Hey, breathe” he spoke softly.
You didn’t deserve him, that was clear to you now. He was too gentle, too good to you when you didn’t deserve it. Your breath steadied under his touch, and you couldn’t face pushing him off this time.
“This is what’s got you worked up?” he asked, and you nodded in reply. His face softened, and he raised a hand to your cheek. “Ner cyare” he whispered, “please don’t trouble yourself over me”
“I can’t help it Wolffe, I—”
I love you
You could so easily say it, and you would mean it, but putting it out into the world would go beyond crossing the line.
“I’m sorry, that I’ve been pulling away, but I can’t— I can’t do this” you insisted, gesturing vaguely between the two of you, unable to name exactly what it was.
“Why not?”
It was a simple question, but the answer was far more complicated. Wolffe gave you nothing but patience as he waited for the reply. His gaze was soft, as soft as it got with him at least, though any amount of tenderness that could be drawn from the man would be considered a feat. It was part of the reason that you struggled to answer him. It was simply too distracting, witnessing the depth of his feelings for you first hand.
When the two of you had slipped up, spent the night with limbs entangled in the cot just a few short steps from you now, it had somehow not occurred to you that Wolffe was in just as deep as you. He had shown his admiration in more ways than one; whispers against your lips and skin, tender touches and a sense of care in every endeavour. In the throws of pleasure it hadn’t registered as anything but that — seeking pleasure.
Now you weren’t sure.
“Because…” you began, barely uttering the word.
There were reasonings you could use, but none would present themselves as you looked into his eyes and were confronted with the depth of your own feelings.
“Because…?” he prompted, and you couldn’t help but sigh.
“Because nothing” you frowned, “because I’m a fool, and because you don’t deserve the only kind of relationship I could give you”
Wolffe matched your frown, “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Think about it Wolffe, I’m… I’m a Jedi, right? You know what that means?”
He pressed his lips to a hard line, unimpressed at the reminder “I know what it means”
You exhaled shakily, and a sadness washed over you, “I couldn’t… I could only be yours in private, I wouldn’t be able to touch you in front of others, to hold your hand or even smile at you for too long. I wouldn’t be able to show the galaxy how much I love you, and that hurts me”
A second passed, and you realised what had been said.
It was as if an airlock had been opened, and all the air sucked from the room. The both of you stood perfectly still, staring at each other with widened eyes. You had crossed the line. It was all hypothetical up until now. But now, it was real. Neither of you moved, or breathed, until Wolffe let a quick and heavy exhale slip, as if in disbelief.
“Love?”
You swallowed thickly.
“I—“ you bit the inside of your cheek as your cheeks burned hot, “I didn’t mean to… tell you like this”
“Is it true?” he asked, deadly serious. His eyes searched yours, for what you didn’t know, but you knew the answer was already obvious in the way you dropped your gaze guiltily, as if the very act of falling in love were wrong.
“Yes” the whisper had barely left you when Wolffe surged forwards and met your lips with his.
He was warm, inviting, eager. He kissed you like a man starved, as if he’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment, and you let yourself give in. You kissed him back more insistently, and let his tongue pass the seam of your lips as he begged for entrance. His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him tightly, as if he was scared you might slip from beneath his fingertips. This feeling was becoming too known to you, too comfortable. It felt too right.
He pulled away, placing his forehead on yours with intention, “I love you, ner sarad’ika”
Your breath was knocked from you upon hearing the words, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth stretched into a tentative grin. You advanced forwards and pressed a more chaste kiss to his lips, and felt him smile back against you. Something about it set your heart fluttering more than anything before. Wolffe still held you, a hand flat against your back to keep you close, where the other held your jaw.
He ran his thumb over your bottom lip as he regarded you, speaking softly, “you have such a pretty smile”
A heat crept up your neck even now, after everything that had happened. Though soon, it began to transform in its meaning. Your smile faded, tears collecting in your waterline once more, and the heat burned at your collar uncomfortably. You didn’t cry as you had before, but the tears fell freely all the same.
Wolffe sighed, wiping them away with a disapproving shake of his head, “I said not to trouble yourself over me”
Your lips twisted with doubt, “you deserve so much more than this, Wolffe”
“It’s not about what I deserve” he reasoned, “it’s what I want”
“But I can’t give you anything”
“I don’t need anything”
You deflated with a huff, “it’s a lot more complicated than you’re making it out to be”
“I disagree” he mused, pressing a kiss to each cheek to collect the remnants of your tears, “I love you, and for maker knows why, you love me. I think that is all that’s important”
You pressed your lips together to stop them from shaking as you felt yourself welling up again, but Wolffe was all too quick to swoop in.
“We’ll figure it out” he promised, “together”
Looking up at him through teary eyes, you found your lips twitching upwards, “together”
The word was a comfort. Neither of you would have to navigate the struggle in isolation, you would support each other.
Wolffe nodded against you, and took your hands in his. You only realised now how they were shaking, and he pressed his forehead into yours with more purpose, peering deeply into your eyes as if he were looking upon your very soul.
“Come lie with me, let me hold you”
Your brow pinched, and you nodded your head in reply. He tugged you over to your cot gently and laid you down in the soft sheets, then stripped himself of his armour to lay beside you.
No more words were exchanged that night, for everything had already been said. His body was warm against yours, and though it didn’t magically lull you to sleep immediately, it was an undeniable comfort. Wolffe fell into unconsciousness before you did, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. Watching him rest calmed your mind. It gave you faith that any hardship the two of you faced going forward would be worth it. He was worth it.
Hi!! Could you please do headcanons for the commanders + 501st on falling for their general’s padawan?
Clones x padawan!reader headcanons
Includes 501st and Commanders (Cody, Wolffe, Bly, Bacara, Neyo, Gregor, Mayday)
Warnings: none
Notes: I wanted to include mostly commanders that I haven’t really written for before and it ended up kinda long lol but oh well
501st
Rex:
Rex's feelings kinda sneak up on him and he spends a long time denying them. He convinces himself it's just admiration, or maybe protectiveness or duty, and pointedly ignores how flustered he feels whenever you smile at him or how he's always trying to find excuses to linger around you
The guilt absolutely eats at him. You're the General's padawan and a Jedi, and developing feelings for you feels like crossing a line he never intended to approach. He tries creating more professional distance…which really just makes everyone notice how strangely formal he acts around you
Lives in his helmet 24/7 around you to hide how much he blushes whenever you give him attention
Thinks he's really good at hiding his crush but he's not. Everyone knows. All the men exchange knowing looks whenever he gets flustered around you or whenever you compliment him. Meanwhile Rex is convinced he's being totallyyyyy subtle
Fives:
Fives' feelings develop pretty slowly but when he actually falls for you he falls hard
He doesn't even try to hide how he feels. Sure, if anything ever happened between you it'd have to stay secret, but having a crush? That's hardly against rules. He flirts shamelessly, winks at you across rooms, and never misses an opportunity to make you laugh
If anyone ever doubts you or talks down to you Fives is the first to shut them down. He's fiercely in your corner and has complete faith in you
Doesn't even deny it if you call him out on his feelings, he'll throw out a teasing/joking remark abouut how it took you long enough to notice or ask if he was being too subtle. But after the teasing dies down, he softens a little because he wants you to know it's more than just playful flirting or a little crush and if you ever wanted to talk about this seriously, he will happily drop the jokes
Echo:
Echo refuses to acknowledge his feelings for months and tells himself it's purely just respect despite everyone around him both knowing otherwise and teasing him frequently about it
Like unfortunately for him, everyone else figured it out almost before he did. The way he both stiffens and lights up when you walk into a room, the way he lingers around you, the way he's always pleased to be assigned with you on missions all makes it painfully obvious
Can't help but try to impress you a little bit. Even if he can't let you know how he feels he wants you to see him as dependable/someone you can always count on
Doesn't think of himself as much of a flirt but is kinda charming around you whenever he lets his guard down a little bit. Doesn't think he is, and isn't necessarily trying to be, but that just adds to it lol
Kix:
Kix's feelings grow so gradually he barely notices them until one day he realizes checking on you after missions has become one of the most important parts of his routine
Like no matter how busy he is, once his own duties are finished, he's stopping by to make sure you're doing okay and getting some rest
Kinda worries about you a lot despite knowing he probably doesn't need to. He trusts your abilities but he also knows how much pressure you're under and hates seeing you push yourself too hard
He's genuinely torn over how much of his feelings he should actually let you be aware of. Some days he thinks you deserve to know, and other days he convinces himself it'd only complicate things for you
Jesse:
Tbh Jesse falls so hopelessly in love it's painful to watch. But every time he starts thinking about telling you, he remembers you're a Jedi and talks himself out of it again
He flirts with you constantly but he's so bad at it. Like sometimes he's okay at it but as soon as you give him any kind of attention he gets both overconfident and a little flustered and any ability to flirt effectively goes out the window
The longer he keeps his feelings bottled up, the more protective he becomes. During missions he's always trying to find excuses to stay close enough to have your back even if he knows you can handle yourself
Also catches himself getting jealous more easily as more time goes on without him telling you his feelings. He's not proud of it but he just can't help how jealous he gets whenever it seems like someone else might be catching your attention
Hardcase:
Hardcase falls for you fast and doesn't really see any reason to pretend otherwise. Literally by like the end of a week the entire 501st knows he's in love with you
Shows off whenever you're around. Always trying to impress you in some way and it makes him even more reckless much to EVERYONE'S chagrin
Your laugh is his most favorite thing in the galaxy and he's constantly saying ridiculous shit/telling bad jokes just to get you to smile
He's your biggest hype man. Doesn't matter if it's training, negotiations, combat, Hardcase is already telling everyone how incredible you are and how well you handled it
Tup:
Tup's crush develops quickly and quietly but he's very keenly aware of it and has no idea how he's supposed to go about managing it. He thinks about you constantly and doesn't know how to stop
He keeps it completely to himself partly because you're a Jedi and partly because he feels suddenly shy whenever he tries to imagine confessing anyway
You fluster him without even trying. Any smile or little compliment is enough to leave him stumbling over his words
If anyone teases him about you, he gets SO defensive and annoyed and insists that they're reading too much into things even though they're absolutely right lmao
Dogma:
Realizing he has feelings for you is nothing short of horrifying for Dogma. He immediately decides the best solution is to avoid you whenever possible
He's already super formal around you but this gets dialed up to 11 after he develops feelings for you. Everything he says sounds super rehearsed and he's like trying to compensate professionalism for thoughts/feelings he desperately doesn't want to be having
He's convinced nothing can ever come of this and he refuses to burden you with his feelings. You're a Jedi , the rules are the rules, and he'll keep this to himself no matter how much it aches
But if anyone ever questions or criticizes you unfairly, or even raises their voice at you, Dogma's cutting in before he even thinks about it. Whatever else he's feeling, his instinct is always to defend you. So people catch on pretty fast that he's into you lol
Commanders
Cody:
Cody's feelings develop so gradually that he hardly notices them until he's completely gone for you and it's too late to do anything about it
He's very good at hiding it. To everyone else, he just comes across as very supportive of you. Internally, though, he's pining away. Can hardly ever stop thinking about you
As good as he is at hiding it, people probably start putting pieces together eventually. Cody never directly confirms or denies anything though, he just deflects or redirects the conversation
He essentially doesn't want to risk making things harder/more complicated for you by confessing. He instead just wants to be the person you can always count on. If you need backup, advice, or really anything else, Cody is already there
Wolffe:
Wolffe is frustrated with himself for even developing feelings for you in the first place and he frankly wishes he could just will them away
He gets weirdly wary around you like he’s constantly waiting for himself to slip up somehow. Like he’s really brisk and guarded around you but it’s because he’s trying to be soo careful to be. Like. Normal.
He's pretty good at hiding his crush generally but softness does start creeping in sometimes despite his best efforts. He can’t help it. You look at him a certain way, or you do something kind, and he just gets reminded of why he developed these feelings for you in the first place. The briefest little look of longing flickers over his face before he forces it back
EXTREMELY protective of you to the point it can come off as slightly overbearing or even maybe jealous at times. If anyone ever brings attention to it he just glares and changes the subject
Bly:
Bly's crush is a little obvious despite his behavior towards you not really changing. It's because of the way he looks at you when he thinks no one's paying any attention. There's so much admiration and fondness in his expression that it gives him away every time
Otherwise though he doesn’t let his feelings influence how he treats you professionally and duty takes precedence to him. He feels that part of his duty to you is remaining dependable and not letting personal feelings get in the way, and he wouldn’t want you to think that the way he feels about you compromises anything about his ability to keep up with his responsibilities
He's always looking out for you, just is always somehow nearby when things start going sideways. Also frequently asking Aayla how you're doing to get her perspective without realizing that he's accidentally being super transparent about how much he cares about you lol
He genuinely just thinks you're incredible. He has so much admiration for you and a part of him really hates having to keep it to himself, but he can’t really find a good reason to justify telling you. He tries to find one though. A lot.
Bacara:
Bacara ignores his feelings so hard he almost convinces himself he’s gotten rid of them. Like he is pushing that shit down so hard and absolutely refuses to acknowledge it
He doubles down on professionalism, keeping a very careful distance and ensuring every interaction stays strictly mission-focused. It throws him off a little if you're ever like particularly nice to him and you can literally see him setting his jaw and internally yelling at himself to stay professional
He's genuinely so annoyed with himself for letting this happen at all. He fully blames himself for “allowing” these feelings to develop and just becomes really harsh with himself and how he lets himself act around you
But, every so often, the walls crack just a little bit. Just a lingering glance at you or really subtle relief on his face when you get through missions safely. He fucking hates the soft spot he has for you but for the life of him he can’t get rid of it. He even once almost smiled absentmindedly at you when you caught his eye before he caught himself and forced his expression back to a frown. Was so baffled that that happened he couldn’t sleep that night
Neyo:
Neyo is absolutely impossible for you to read. Even after realizing he has feelings for you, nothing about his outward behavior changes. Genuinely no one can tell
He refuses to dwell on his feelings because he knows that acknowledging them won't change anything. You're a Jedi. He can't be with you. So he shoves his feelings down and focuses on the mission
His care for you does come out in little ways, but he intentionally makes sure they’re barely noticeable. It’s usually just like through how observant he is. He notices when you're tired, distracted, injured, pushing yourself too hard, really anything and he's always stepping in to check in with you, though he keeps it pretty subtle and somehow manages to keep his demeanor so cold that it’s easy to miss that there’s care there
He's also very subtly protective of you. He just always makes sure he's positioned somewhere where he can reach you if things go wrong. Gets a little pissy with you if you do anything dangerous/reckless and honestly it comes off like he’s being bitchy but it’s because he’s worried about you lol
Gregor:
Gregor falls for you so fast and honestly doesn't see much point in pretending otherwise. He figures you’d figure it out eventually anyway
Sooo fucking loyal to you in literally every single possible way. Jumps in to protect you at every opportunity. Backs you up whenever you might need. Just is always there to support you and if someone messes with you they mess with HIM
Flirts with you a lot and uses it as like an easy facade to tell you how he actually really feels about you. Every compliment is genuine but if anyone questions him he can play it off
Likes impressing you. He’s competent and he knows it but having you acknowledge it makes him sooo smug
Mayday:
Mayday's feelings for you grow quietly over time. It's not fast or dramatic. He just realizes one day how much he looks forward to seeing you every day and he’s like. Huh.
He really treasures calm moments with you between missions more than anything and will find excuses to go see you, maybe bringing you a cup of caf or tea, and then sitting and talking to you about anything for a little bit
Never asks for more than what the two of you already have. Just being able to spend time with you feels like enough, even if part of him wishes it didn't have to be
Can't help but like very subtly flirt with you every now and then. It's not frequent and it's never enough to picked up on by anyone else, he'll just like say something totally mundane or respond to an order but the way his eyes flick up to yours and his voice drops low is enough for you to know what he's doing
not totally a req, but imagine face riding with maul.🤤 idk ab you but i love the hc that his horns are like an erogenous zone so like. not only is this man getting pussy drunk, hes also getting his horns fondled or flowk getting overstimulated,,, ily maul
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Warnings: 18+, face riding, playing with mauls horns, pussy drunk maul
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You’re straddling your lovers face, his large hands gripping the plushness of your hips, keeping you where you are. His yellow eyes gaze up at you from where he is, watching as your head falls back as he rips yet another orgasm out of you, the way your tits jiggle in your attempt to scoot away or ground yourself. One of your hands falls forward, resting between his horns, which causes Maul to twitch a little. He doesn’t know if you’re aware but he’s sensitive. The way your fingers toy, and rub against his horns and the area around them causes a groan to escape him. Moaning into your cunt. His tongue continues to fuck into your walls, your clit bumping against the tip of his nose as he guides your hips to buck against him. Between the way you’re crying out for him, how many times you’ve cum against his mouth, AND the way your massage his horns has his cock aching. Becoming more and more pussy drunk of your sweetness.
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(sorry if this is so short, I’m exhausted from the gym earlier and I haven’t smoked today…sob)
Maul would have intense eye contact anytime he beds you. Forcing you to keep your eye open as he slides into you, watching your face as he sinks deep and makes you take the whole of him.
"Mine."
Always growled low in your ear before he moves, holding you close, making sure you don't disappear. He's always caught between thinking that is a dream - that he didn't deserve such a reality as to be held and loved. To be accepted into another's body so willingly.
So he stared.
