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darthmaulification · 2 years

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could i get reader pampering maul after a long day? feeding him nice food, massaging him, maybe even some risque times if you want.

A/N: sorry y’all that i haven’t been writing much sw fics, i’ve been enjoying yautja schtuff LOLZ 💀 so my duality of man is posting yautja fic in conjunction to star wars fic. i desire them all (monsterfucker).

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: fluff and spice, grumpy manchild maul type beat, afab!reader (no pronouns or gendered terms used), mand’alor maul, nudity, massages, dom/sub dynamic, they’re practically edging each other LMAO

word count: 2,497

He’s clearly agitated, no longer sprawl and lax in his throne, but hunched and glowering at the crowd before him. The meeting has obviously drawn far past Maul’s level of tolerance, and judging by the way his scowl has been progressively deepening is equal parts impressive as it is worrying. Beneath the table, you slide your hand from your lap to rest your palm on Maul’s thigh, and he looks over at you from the corner of his eye.

Are you okay? You hope the question shows in your eyes, tender and soft like the way you’re intending it to be, and you actually hope he does snoop in your mind to hear it. Maul seems to, judging by the way his sneer briefly turns to a scoff and how he rolls his eyes. He’s never been one to tell you how he’s feeling, so you’re not surprised by his dismissal.

“Perhaps we should save the next few topics for another day.” When a break in the overarching conversation occurs, you practically jump at the opportunity to put in your own two cents. Thankfully, it seems everyone else in attendance is also done with the meeting, and a murmur of affirmation rolls through the crowd.

“Yes, yes— it was a pleasure to have you all conjure for the entire day it leeched upon.” Maul growls from behind the hand he has on his chin, spitting out the words with a venom. It sounds almost too much like a child, but thankfully none of the governors or senators present make any sort of nod to it, and instead scurry from the room.

It takes no more than ten seconds until the doors close behind the last advisor.

“Maul, that was rude. And you sounded like a child.” You reprimand him lightly, your lips tugged into a smile that won’t fade, not even at Maul’s heated glare in response.

“Do not call me a child, I will—”

“Oh, hush.” You lean in and kiss him, smothering whatever semi-toothless threat Maul was about to hurl at you. The kiss doesn’t last long, only a few tender, warm moments, and when you pull away Maul still has a glower on his face, but his eyes are soft. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off before he can even get the first word out.

“Come, my love, let’s retire for the night.” You tug at his hands, beckoning him to stand. He does, rising from his throne and, for once in his life, allowing you to guide him to your shared quarters.

—

The second the door to your room closes, you practically toss off the shimmersilk cloak you’re wearing, sending the fabric to the floor. Immediately, your hands go to the buttons and laces of your shirt and pants, fingers hastily and expertly undoing the ties. Maul straightens up in a recoil, eyes blowing wide and expression scrunching into one of shock.

“What are you doing?” He asks, irritation stiff buzzing in his words but diminishing by the second the more he watches you remove your clothes. You force yourself to not smile, instead completely focusing on stripping down to your birthday suit. The stare he has lingering on your revealing form makes your skin tingle pleasantly.

You know that teasing him like this is a gamble, but the reward at the end often benefits the both of you. Besides, you’ve had this idea ever since reading about particular Twi’lek healing spas, ones that involved no clothes and massages.

“Getting comfortable.” You reply simply, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor. You send him a nonchalant glance over your now bare shoulder and add, “You should too, my love.”

Your pants fall completely to the floor along with your underwear, leaving you as bare as a babe, and you turn to face Maul. He’s no longer glowering, thankfully, but now there’s a new, predatory look on his face that has you suppressing a shiver. He smirks, crossing his arms over his well-muscled chest, golden eyes roaming your figure.

“Naturally.” He replies simply, not bothering to hide how his eyes have been ogling your breasts, and goes to unzip the fly of his pants. Face feeling very warm, you watch as he drops his pants and his half-hard cock springs into view.

“Now that we’re comfortable,” Maul starts, closing the distance between you to pull you in close with an arm around your waist, “What more do you have in store for me, my dear?”

The urge to abandon your original plan rears its head at the feel of Maul’s warm, tight body and his lips so so close to your own, but you force yourself to have the fortitude of an army. Peeling yourself away from him with a coquettish grin on your lips, you gesture to the bed and ignore the heat pooling between your thighs. Especially when your eyes flit down to his swelling erection...

“Lay down. Let me take care of you.” You purr, sashaying with an extra swing to your hips to the fresher to grab a few items. Maul watches, bemused, and without any complaints (surprisingly) follows your directions. You hear him lay on the bed as you grab a bottle of scented oil, a few fluffy towels, and place a small basin beneath the water tap. You fill it with hot water, the steam warm against your face and beginning to fog the mirror.

“You’ve been overworking yourself again, Maul.” Sticking the towels and bottle under your arm, you call to your lover and aren’t surprised when you hear him scoff in response. He looks up from the pillow he has under his head when your footfalls approach, and his dour expression turns quizzical.

“What’s this, my dear?” He purrs, his eyes following the basin as you place it down on the bed and then to the bottle that catches the light when you set it on the nightstand. You offer him an enigmatic smile in return, reaching to set the harsh lights of the room to a lower setting. Immediately, the brightness dims to a muted, cozy orange, and when you turn to face Maul, his eyes glow in the low lights.

“Helping you ease. Now lay on your stomach, please.” Tonight must be a blue moon, because Maul once again obeys your tender command with no pushback. He rolls onto his front with a soft grunt, shifting slightly to get comfortable. A small frown tugs at your lips when you can notice the tenseness of his muscles, his back and shoulders visibly tight with stress.

“Oh, Maul...” The murmur escapes you before you can stop it, but before Maul can respond, you’ve soaked one towel into the basin and placed the hot, heavy fabric over Maul’s neck. A makeshift heat compress, the type meant to soothe and treat, Maul sighs when you pat it slightly, loosely molding it to his neck.

“So busy all the time,” You start as you carefully climb up onto the bed, swinging a leg over your lover so that you straddle him at the tops of his thighs. Maul grunts again, hips rutting the bed at the feel of your weight settling on and around him. It must be a blue moon for you too, because that simple action has you half moaning, half sighing and a hot feeling deep in your core.

Perhaps you’ve both been wound a bit tight as of late.

“What’s in the bottle?” Maul asks thickly, his voice muffled slightly by the pillow under his head. You grab it and pop off the top, pouring the thick liquid into your palm. It glows gently, made bioluminescent from the particular plants and scents mixed into the base oil.

“It’s a special massage oil,” You sing-song, as you set aside the bottle and place your hand on his back, “Meant to soothe muscles and whatnot.”

The moment the gooey liquid had hit Maul’s skin, he had tensed at the coolness of it. But as your hands spread it over his back, the movement and heat of his body warmed it and Maul relaxes again. The oil paints Maul glossy, putting a sheen over his crimson and midnight skin that makes you desire him even more. As you work at spreading it over his back and shoulders, a knock at the door sounds.

“Come in!” You call, and a kitchen droid enters pushing a cart of food that you had asked to be taken to your room earlier in the day. They roll the cart next to the bed, and let out a series of beeps. You look over the spread of jogan fruits, honeyed peaches, berries of all sorts, and the selection of chocolate (mostly dark, Maul’s preference) with appreciation. You smile at the droid.

“Thank you.” The droid responds with another series of beeps and as they roll out the door, closing it behind them, you pluck up a red berry and stick it in your mouth. It’s tender flesh is sweet, just as you asked for.

“Fruits and sweets, my dear?” Maul teases, tilting his head so that one of his eyes catches yours, “You are too kind.”

A grin curls up your lips mischievously, and you slide your hands up his back, kneading at his strong shoulders. Maul groans, and you lean in so that your lips just barely brush the curve of his earlobe.

“Take your pick, my love. I’ve heard the berries are juicy this year.” You coo, nipping Maul’s ear as you pull away. Your husband growls low in his chest, glaring up at you with a single blistering yellow eye. You almost expect Maul to move, but considering how boneless he’s allowed himself to go from the magic you’re working with your fingers, he doesn’t.

By the time you’ve focused on his tense shoulders, Maul’s hips have started to undulate, grinding against the mattress. You’re really fairing no better, failing to resist the urge to tilt your hips and press your core to the thigh muscles beneath you. When Maul lets out a strained groan, both from the pleasure of you kneading his shoulders and the friction on his presumably hardening length, you moan softly.

“Maul.” You only sigh his name, the warmth in your belly sinking low to the apex between your legs. The way you have him like putty beneath your hands, all lax and groaning and purring with pleasure... it makes you feel proud and immensely horny. Here he lies, Maul the Mand’alor, humping the bed like a dog in rut all because you— his wife— have rendered him placid and aroused.

“Does it feel nice?” You ask coyly, eyes heavy lidded, but you already know the answer— Maul shows it with each thrust of his hips against the bed. He must sense your amusement, and his single-eyed glare bores into yours again, his gaze a bit dewy with lust. You’ve reduced your Lord and lover to a groaning, horny mess— much like he does you, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Look at what you do to me.” He hisses, and groans again when you press the balls of your palms deep to the dip of his spine. His spine arches, hips stuttering on a thrust, and you press your palms deep into his back again. He groans even louder, cursing loudly, body stuttering.

“I enjoy it.” You giggle, hands leaving his crimson skin to apply more of the oil to your hands. You intend to continue until he comes without your cunt around his length, but as you’re distracted, Maul takes his chance. In an instant, he pushes off of the bed and you go tumbling to the side. Maul’s lightning quick reflexes both catches you, and flips you so that he’s on top and you lay on your back on the bed.

You didn’t even get the chance to yelp, it all happened so quickly.

Any attempt to struggle is met with a low growl from your lover. Maul straddles your hips and snatches your wrists in an iron grip. You’re panting, eyelids drooping, and relinquishing any control you have left. Maul notices how you go lax and smirks.

“Good choice.” He drawls, slowly and pointedly raising your hands above your head. A warning look in his fiery eyes tells you to keep them put. You do. Lord Maul is not someone to be disobeyed. He leans in close, kissing the jugular vein in your neck, biting lightly at your ear lobe. You whine, squirming beneath him.

“You know better than to attempt to reign over me, dearest.” Maul hisses against the side of your face, body pressed so tightly to yours the warmth of his presence is almost overwhelming. A broken whimper passes your lips when you recognize the swell of his erection against your thigh, the simple touch of it sending shockwaves through your body. Maul shifts to settle himself between your legs, spreading your thighs with his knees. Briefly, his fiery eyes flit down to catch sight of your dripping pussy, and a bestial growl escapes him.

Maul leans in to kiss you passionately, hungrily swallowing at you as if you’re his last meal. You moan lightly into the kiss, tasting the jogan fruit on his tongue, basking in the heat of his mouth. One of his crimson hands scoops under the low of your back, lifting your hips up off the bed, while the other firmly grasps your chin, forcing your eyes to remain on him.

“What a sneaky, little minx you are.” He teases, rolling his hips deliciously slow to grind his cock against your aching core. Maul takes in the reaction it causes in you, how your eyelids flutter, the parting of your lips, the sweet shock of pleasure.

“You guide me to our bed and attempt to dull me with a massage?” He continues, rutting his hips harder, his cock hot and hard against your pussy. You gasp, and Maul swallows it with the deep kiss he steals from your parted lips. When he parts, he grins, “So devious and cruel, my love.”

A breathy laugh passes your lips, and you smile— a tad silly looking— and you meet his molten gaze through heavy-lidded eyelids. Maul’s thumb traces the curve of your chin, then your jaw, then rests on the soft of your cheek.

“Says you.” You giggle, lolling your head into the sheets when Maul places wet kisses to the side of your neck. He digs his fingertips into the flesh of your ass when you continue, “You’re the one that’s cruel, Maul. Not me.”

Maul pulls away harshly, laughing. It’s the thick, rich one that you’ve come to learn means he’s about to do something terrible. He meets your eyes again, his palm still flat over your cheek. Then your lover winks, his eyes blistering, and promises with a wicked grin:

“I’ll show you cruel.”

#star wars #star wars darth maul #darth maul x reader #darth maul x you #darth maul #anon #anon ask #request #star wars maul #maul #maul x reader #orion answers

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darthmaulification · 2 years

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I loved your sugardaddy death maul dribbles n headcannons 😔👌🏻 will you make more in the future?? I’d love to see more tbh 😩💖💖💖

LOLZ sorry for being so inactive gamers, i’ve been doing a lot in my IRL life. 😅 this has been sitting in my inbox for a lil while, and since then sugar daddy maul has been haunting me. 💗

i totally want to write more, especially a full length thing, but it’s honestly a lot of twiddling my thumbs and twirling a lock of hair around my finger waiting for inspiration to write to strike LMAO 💀💀

i did write these two mini drabbles to tide us all over until then though!! enjoy!!

(18+ and as gn!reader as possible!! also the second drabble got a tad dark whoops)

clothes shopping

“Wonderful.” The compliment is spoken in a tone often reserved for the midnight hours and glasses of champagne. Maul continues in that same sultry purr, “Positively radiant.”

Red satin and shimmering chiffon drape over your body like a crimson waterfall. The robes are form-fitting in all the right places, breathable and flowy where needed. Gilded armbands hold the fabric up while gold bracelets around your wrists keep a loose sleeve on your arms. Your feet are bare, aside from a couple toe rings and pearl anklets.

And, as always, the thin gold chain with its single ruby eye sparkles around your neck.

You meet Maul’s gaze in the shop mirror. behind you, he stands tall, one arm behind his back, one hand at his chin— contemplative, mulling over his thoughts and the sight of you in the gorgeous robes and jewelry he picked out, appraising. With a smirk and approving hum, Maul’s expression shifts into one of utmost satisfaction.

“You look delectable, my pet.” He says, voice as smooth as honey and just as addictive. He places his gloved leather palms firm on your hips, squeezing, a hot iron grip— a promise. His touch is like heaven on fire, and the positive attention has you preening. A smile pulls your lips upwards, then Maul brings one hand up to your neck and a single finger hooks around your choker.

“Let us retire to my quarters, shall we?”

arm candy

It’s not the first time that your presence has been accosted in such a manner, but that doesn’t make it any less upsetting. The words levied at you burn your mind, swirling around your thoughts like a vicious storm. Deep down, you know it's nothing to be ashamed of— as you’re content and happy with your life— but your chosen... profession has a stigma that nips close at its heels.

Just another common whore, all desperate and spread-legs, for a man’s attention. You going to warm my bed too, sweetheart?

The Zabrak who had spit that at you was not your Zabrak. He was some sneering, tight-lipped Iridonian Zabrak, with dull beige skin and minimal tattoos. Your Dathomirian Zabrak, with his masterful body art, would never say such a thing to you— Least not without your explicit consent.

The room's at a complete hush. Dead silence. Next to you, where Maul sits in his throne, you can practically feel the fire of his wrath searing the air. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you continue to stare at your folded hands in your lap.

In your peripheral, Maul snarls and rises abruptly. His voice comes out in a deadly hiss, “What did you say?”

The words slice the stiff and unmoving atmosphere, and you look up just in time to see the Iridonian's haughty visage practically crumbles. He makes eye contact with you— fear written plain on his face— and you look away, at Maul.

He stands tall, fists clenched at his sides, his jaw muscles tense. A vicious snarl tugs his face into one that screams danger— a cobra coiled and braced to strike. His eyes are blistering, volcanic eruptions. Maul’s saberstaff hangs at his hip, sheathed, but waiting.

"I-I...! I meant no-no— Please forgive me.” The Iridonian stammers through a desperate plea for his life, taking several steps back, unknowingly bumping into the two black-armored Mandalorian guards who appear like harbingers of death behind him. He yelps when they sieze his arms, cries out in pain when one of the two kicks his knee out from under him. The beige Zabrak falls to the floor with a thunk!, held aloft by the iron grips on his upper arms.

“Please! I’m sorry! I beg of you!” You watch as the Iridonian begins to openly weep, sniveling in the face of his demise like the coward he is. Maul glances to you and clears his throat, gaining your attention. Though his expression is still furious, and his hackles raised and stern— His eyes are soft for you.

“It’s your call, my darling pet.” Maul says in a low rumble, and everything the other man said to you melts away. You give Maul a small smile, fiddling with the ruby on your choker, and although you’ve never considered yourself a vengeful person— You’re allowed to send a message here.

“I think he’d quite like being locked away for a little while, my Lord.” You reply, and Maul grins wolfishly, flicking his wrist. At once, the Mandalorians heave the prisoner into the grasp and without wasting a second, march out of the room. The sounds of the Iridonians pleads and screams disappear the second the doors close.

Maul steps closer to you, a dangerous grin on his face, and his gloved hand lays firm on the base of your neck. His thumb rubs circles on your skin, and you lean into his touch. Maul’s index finger loops around your choker just as his other hand rises to cradle your chin in his palm. He turns your head to look up at him, and you’re gone to his honeyed gaze.

“Fantastic decision, my pet.” He purrs, akin to a satisfied lion and just as regal. Then, in an action that’s quite rare combined with the praise, Maul leans down and plants a kiss to your lips.

#orion answers #star wars #star wars darth maul #darth maul x you #darth maul x reader #darth maul #maul x reader #maul #star wars maul #drabble

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