Imagine it in his gravelly voice 😁 Hehe
And you'll need the Force badly, if this is the moment where you swoon drool die (from horniness) have to face Darth Maul himself 👹
I gave in into the new series, but I fell for this character since the last season of The Clone Wars, where Maul showed his signature movements in his epic fight with Ahsoka on Mandalore.
Yes, his tattoos are not from any ref except the facial ones. Those I altered too, but just a bit. I didn't find satisfying references for his body tattoos anyway. That's a green light for wild ink artists like me! 🐉🔥
Dubious spicy headcanon 👀 and more glimpses under the cut 👇
❤️🔥 Get stared! 👀
My headcanon based on the TCW arc of the Nightsisters in Dathomir, the selection and ritualistic altering of Savage:
The planet Dathomir is ruled by the most toxic matriarchy. Females are worshipped in an eerie way and looking down on the males, that are just flesh to touch, alter and use for the Nightsisters. Everything is painful and horrific. Only the strongest will survive and their only reward is serving the witches.
Poor males are the canvas for the witches who tattoo them freehanded or magical, quite careless but proud and cruely affectionate, possessively marking them with primal but stylized female domination signs like vulvas, spikey breast shapes, thorns, flames and crowns.
I had those thoughts studying the the tattoo refs of Maul and Savage. All the diamond shapes and spikey flames, tribals and rich blackwork, but not proper outlining.
And the zabrak of Dathomir love and hate it. Best Sith material 👹
Close up on blood stained eyes 🙀
So that's what I made 😈 I colored his red skin and then I started my Lacuna Coil Playlist and painted on him, just let it come like I thought it would underline the shape of his muscles, going away from my own personal liking of ornaments and filigrane stuff 🔥
I imagined a sinisterly snickering Nightsister, might-drunk grabbing the seething but subjecting zabrak and turning him like she wanted, worshipping his shapes with painful inked lines, enjoying his hisses, growls, glares and snarls, enjoying that he stays still, despite on the edge and full of fear, hate and a twisted and dark longing, knowing what happens if he dared to flinch 💀🔥
I'm kind of proud of my Nightsister-mode design for him, so here a daylight glimpse he absolutely didn't agree to, but silently likes because showing off:
❤️🔥
As an artist I appreciate every sociocritical approach of a story. I was stunned and darkly intoxicated that a highly toxic matriarchy is shown! Most parts of our world are ruled by very toxic patriarchy, old white men not knowing how the internet works, shouting around and trying god mode. Women too often unconsiously supporting this system with thinking it's natural and just a personal "flaw", that they feel insecure and questioning themselves all the time.
There are many voices and stories that glorify matriarchy in a way, where at a certain point I think myself... careful ladies! ❤️🩹 With all your ruly reasoned divine feminine rage, are you sure you would be better and can refrain from revenge and ensure not being blinded by emotions, that are valid but not wise when it comes to decisions? Generations of unhealed wounds, too much labour, mental load, "Eva"-stuff et cetera? ❤️🩹
Under the line it would take a bit of time (for sure all the healing time), but maybe matriarchy would do better. Indigenous people still tell of the ancient forms of matriarchy that weren't about power but about eye level, mutual nourishing, care and respect without bullshit 🌱 ✨
Sound very much like true equality ♥️
That was a full of Force ramble 😽 A caf and much love for who made it until here ☕️💕
I'm no stranger to writing the spice but I think this is at least vague enough to post here. No overt explicit stuff, but you know what's happening :03
***Everyone who's an adult, Enjoy!***
The broadcast day had ended hours ago. Most of the stars had gone home or retired to their dressing rooms.
After hours. No one would be around.
No one would hear the noises coming from the backstage room of a certain Big Shot.
Noises that that Big Shot was doing his damnedest to suppress.
Lips caught between teeth as Spamton leaned his head back against the plush couch, staring up at the dim smoky ceiling, before his eyes slowly shut from sensation and contemplation.
Things had certainly escalated recently. His rising success, the brand deals, a colab with a popular TV host, his own spot on the prime time, all the glitz and glam with the big shot life; Yes, it was all so magnificent. He almost could feel that he had made it.
Almost...
A shaky noise escaped him, and unconsciously, he reached up to thread the metal antennas through his fingers. There was a sound of signal change, the sensation of a limb that had fallen asleep waking up again, and Spamton's toes curled.
Large gloved hands gently grasped him, thumbs making soothingly circles along thigh and chest.
How had he ended up like this? It had been a friendly invite, an after show reward of drinks and small talk. One thing had led to another... Was it perhaps moving too fast? Or was the static attraction just that magnetic between them?
"D-damn [10/10], where'd you learn how to-"
He trailed off into an expletive that was bleeped out, which was surprising, that that was censored but not anything else. Maybe the room was just dark enough to be Hays Code complaint...
A pull forwards, small hands grasping the reception prongs and the AV cables, large hands digging claws into the tailor made suit.
Curling, writhing, pleading, reaching the end.
He was kept in place with unyielding hands.
And then, he felt the fangs, just a gentle graze.
... Now he was really hoping no one was around...
...
Spamton felt himself slowly come down, his hand resting upon his own chest, willing his heart to calm down as it hammered and battered upon the confines of his ribcage.
From behind his eyelids, a light became noticeable.
He opened his eyes, squinting at the bright square of the television.
Eventually, his eyes adjusted, seeing Tenna's memorable face, smiling softly at him, in a way that was rather unusual.
"...What?" Spamton finally asked, the quiet between them starting to feel uncomfortable.
Tenna smiled wider, then slowly, opened his mouth.
Spamton felt his heart seize.
Behind a curtain of sharp pearly fangs, nestled upon a staticy tongue like a great deal presented on a velvet pillow, were what must have been hundreds of tiny blue gems.
His [pipis].
Without thinking, Spam reached out to cup Tenna's screen.
That mischievous grin widened, the grey tongue lolling out a moment for Spamton to get a better look at the clutch, before reeling back in.
And then, Tenna swallowed.
If Spamton's face wasn't already pink, he was positively crimson now.
He watched the display through the window of Ten's jaws, kept open so he'd enjoy the show. Gulp after gulp, the pipis were subsumed. His breath hitching, Spamton absentmindedly trailed his fingers down to the TV host's neck, feeling the bulge of the last few eggs travel through the metal gullet, following it down, down....
For a few moments, they shared panting breath.
Then ever the smooth talker, Spamton slicked back his ruffled hair and cocked an eyebrow.
"So, was I [a filling five star meal?]"
Tenna's usual softer demeanor was continuously absent as he ran his tongue over the serrated edges. It was certainly... different. Spamton felt a bit less confident as the CRT leaned closer.
"Delicious. I might just add it to the Executive Buffet."
Spamton laughed, "I don't know if I can [supply meets demand]." He wasn't at all serious... was he?
Laugh cut short as cathode lips ghosted his, "Want a taste, Big Shot?"
It was a pressing kiss. Spamton felt himself melting at first, but then the taste set in, and with a grumble he pushed away.
"Ech," he couldn't help the disgusted sound he made, nor his tongue sticking out to accentuate it.
Tenna immediately pulled away some, his bunny ears drooping, "Oh, crap, I'm sorry, did- did I take it to far? I-I didn't mean- I-I'm sorry, I'll-"
There was the Tenna he knew.
"Woah, [Cool your jets], [All Tens]" He reached for Tenna's chin, flashing his award winning smile, "[No harm, no foul]. Just as a [general rule of thumb], I [don't get high on your own supply!]"
He gently wiped away a strand of blue tinged saliva from Tenna's lips, and that was enough for the CRT to relax in a pink haze.
"Well," Tenna purred, claws kneading Spam's kneecaps, "Do you think I could have... seconds?"
Spamton felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple. Man, this guy was gonna be the death of him.
"Ugh, yeah, one sec," Spamton reached over and grabbed his glass, downing the much needed sting of hydration. "Alright," he tossed the glass somewhere into the dark, then double tapped the arm rest, "[hit me]"
The fanged grin returned, and slowly the screen set beyond Spamton's vision, as he rested his head back against the couch once more. He could get used to this...
There was a pause, a breath that made him squirm slightly, then a whisper.
"After this," Tenna asked, trying to sound more enticing than desperate, "do you mind if I ask you something?"
Spamton gritted his teeth with impatience.
"Yeah, sure, now get [back to our regularly scheduled program.]"
~FIN~
Alright my fellow heathens! Enjoy your Exec Buffet! You want more of this spice? I can go ever more explicate, but I can't do so with empty cupboards! You want to stock my spice rack, you gotta pay! (please. I need rent money!)
some artfight attacks and revenges
artists of the original designs in order:
1. inkwellsandwarlocks
2. leario / lea_reymauzaize
3. @zuzartii
4. @neptuniite
5. addictedtodraw / aurora.fernandes20
6. @dotlapin
