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velidewrites · 11 months

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Obi-Wan’s heart darkens.

It has done so too many times since the War started—that grip on his chest. He knows it is the Dark Side clouding the Force—clouding his judgement, tempting him to do things a Jedi should never even think of. Violence, control, power—Obi-Wan always resits it, even when it takes all his strength. There is something peculiar about that strange tug, though—the very darkness itself. It is nothing like the light, blissful before the War and blinding throughout it. Lately, it seems that no matter where he looks, he cannot see the right way.

The darkness promises clarity.

The Clone Wars (2008) S5 E16 reimagined.

Note: This fic is a birthday gift for the wonderful @melting-houses-of-gold!

Warnings: Spoilers for The Clone Wars (2008), Graphic depictions of violence and death, NSFW

Read on AO3

PART 2/2: The Beginning

Obi-Wan’s hot breath clouds the glass wall.

They are exposed here, much too exposed, but there’s an excitement to it—the risk of getting caught. It would be the first tine—they’ve been a lot more careful in the past.

Right now, there probably isn’t a worse place in the entire galaxy for this type of…meeting. Satine would’ve snorted at the ridiculous term had her mouth not been otherwise occupied.

After all, this is no more than a secret hookup.

One of many and very few at the same time—she and Obi-Wan have been sneaking those moments every now and then, but she finds that they always leave her craving more. No matter how many times she feels his lips on hers, his body pressed against her own, it is never enough. She can never get enough of him.

But Obi-Wan isn’t hers to take—and he never will be.

She doesn’t let those thoughts dwell, though—not now, now when his strong hand on her waist tightens. She can feel the calloused skin on the subtle slit in her gown—roughened, she guesses, from all those years carrying the lightsaber. He has scars, too, peppered all over the back of his palms, thin and white and almost invisible to the average onlooker. But not to Satine. Satine always notices.

She tries not to worry about the latest one she’d spotted—still healing, which means he must’ve got it while protecting her. It the same hand that now rests on her cheek, that angles her jaw slightly to give him better access to where his mouth traces slow, sensuous kisses over her neck.

A tinge of guilt still tugs on her heart, though, so she turns her head an inch to brush her lips over his open palm. The move seems to surprise him as his breath halts, if only for a moment. Satine kisses him again, more boldly this time, and Obi-Wan straightens, his blue gaze darker now as it meets her own.

“Satine,” he whispers.

She wraps her arms around his neck. “Kiss me again.”

Obi-Wan does not need to be told twice.

But then, just as she can practically feel the softness of his lips again, something beeps quietly in his pocket, and the moment shatters like glass.

Obi-Wan allows himself one, frustrated huff before he reaches into his robes for the commlink.

“Yes?” he asks somewhat grumpily, and Satine suppresses a chuckle.

There is a brief pause before Master Qui Gon responds, his voice slightly modulated through the device. “Did I wake you, my young Padawan?”

Obi-Wan glances at Satine. “Something like that, Master,” he says, and she finds that she agrees. All of this—him—has always seemed like a dream.

“Well, my apologies. Now that you’re awake, I need you up on the bridge.”

Satine’s brows furrow, and perhaps that’s why Obi-Wan asks, “Is there something wrong, Master?”

Another pause gives Satine worry. An intruder? On a royal ship? No, scratch that—a Mandalorian ship?

“A disturbance,” Master Qui Gon finally says, as if that explains everything. “In the Force.”

And perhaps it does, because Obi-Wan nods—to the commlink, as though it were his Master standing right in front of him. Satine can’t help but smile at that.

Obi-Wan casts her another glance, something like apology hiding behind his stare.

Go, she mouths to him.

He closes his eyes for only a moment before he speaks again. “I’ll be right there.”

***

Obi-Wan Kenobi did the one thing a Jedi should never do.

He dropped his lightsaber—allowed it to fall to the ground, discarded.

Without it, he’s…

He’s not sure what he is anymore.

And, despite his greatest enemy now standing before him, that scares him the most.

***

Obi-Wan drifts to a simpler time.

They are on Satine’s royal spacecraft again, her body caged between his arms, pressed against the glass wall. In that moment, nothing else exists but them—but the sweet taste of her skin, the soft touch of her lips on his palm.

Satine is all that exists.

She is time and space and life, glowing deep inside his chest, his soul. She is the only light he needs, Obi-Wan realises as she gazes at him from beneath long, blonde lashes. She’s the only light he’ll ever need.

The Jedi would call this attachment. Obi-Wan would call it a simple truth.

After all, there is no attachment—there is only this moment, one of so very few that he almost suspects it’s some cruel dream his imagination cultivated. But Obi-Wan has never been much of a daydreamer, which means that the soft lips on his skin must be real. Which means that she is real, as real as the perpetual tug of the Force on his heart.

Obi-Wan fears that one day, he’ll be forced to choose.

He fears, because deep down, his choice has already been made.

***

The throne room feels cold.

It’s the first thing he feels as he blinks back into consciousness—the piercing sting of hate, of years upon years driven by it. He couldn’t believe it at first, but, in a much more real sense, Obi-Wan has always known. Has always known that, one way or another, it would come to this—him and Maul, until the very end.

Satine kneels.

Her legs hit the stone, and Obi-Wan’s jaw clenches. He isn’t sure just how much Maul knows about her—about them—so he makes an effort not to look in her direction, forcing himself to look into those hateful, yellow eyes instead.

He should’ve known this was a plot—a sick, twisted plot to get to him. He doubted Maul cared about Mandalore at all, about the warriors under his rule—all tools to get what he was truly after. What he’s always been after.

He tries not to feel any guilt—that would only be handing another tool right into Maul’s hands. He tries not to think that, had it not been for him, Maul might have left Mandalore in peace—might have never even invaded the system in the first place. This is no time to dwell in such thoughts, no time to feel.

For Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, there is never time.

Maul speaks to him from the throne—from Satine’s throne, and once again, Obi-Wan swallows the darkness that fills his chest at the sight. “Your noble flaw is a weakness shared by you,” Maul drawls, “and your Duchess.”

Your Duchess.

Satine gasps, and Obi-Wan’s eyes dart to her immediately.

She floats a few inches above the stone now, her hand clasped around her neck as she tries to breathe again. She tries to yank free from a hold that doesn’t exist, from another dark, gloved hand that crushes her throat despite not even touching it in the first place. Maul knows—knows what she means to him, if only to an extent.

He’s going to kill her, Obi-Wan realises. He’s going to kill her because of what she is to him. At last, he’ll have his revenge—at last, he will leave Obi-Wan Kenobi in true, infinite darkness.

The only thing Obi-Wan has ever felt for the Zabrak Sith is pity.

But now, as his iron grip tightens on Satine’s neck, Obi-Wan feels everything.

“You should have chosen the Dark Side,” Maul hums, seemingly noting the turmoil thundering in Obi-Wan’s chest, “Master Jedi.”

Perhaps he should have.

“Your emotions betray you,” he continues. “Your fear, and…yes…your anger.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes.

Maul growls, “Let your anger deepen your hatred.”

But, the way he always has been, Maul is mistaken—and Obi-Wan almost smiles.

For there is no fear—no anger, no hatred, simmering somewhere in his soul.

There is only clarity.

This is what Maul wants—for Obi-Wan to spiral the same way Maul had a long time ago, for them to stand against each other as equals, two broken souls, fighting a war they never should have been part of in the first place. He wants Obi-Wan twisted and wretched by the Dark Side the way he had been, alone and without the Jedi’s Light to hold on to.

But the only light Obi-Wan has ever needed is right here, offering the balance he’d been searching for ever since he first bowed before the young Princess of Mandalore and sworn to be her protector for as long as she needed him. She’ll be the light while he’ll be the darkness—one unable to exist without the other, the way it was always meant to be.

Obi-Wan no longer fears the Dark Side—he welcomes it like an answer to a question he hadn’t dared to ask until now.

Maul wants to fight him—to kill him.

Obi-Wan wants to kill him, too.

When he opens his eyes again, he can see the victory glowing in Maul’s eyes—can feel the ecstasy lighting his veins. Obi-Wan almost feels pity for him again.

But then he notices the weapon strapped to his side—a trophy to commemorate an enemy he hasn’t even yet defeated— and Obi-Wan allows himself a smile.

He reaches into the Force and finds a new ally within it—not that bright, blinding light promising to show him the Way.

No, he finds himself.

The weapon cuts through the air before it lands in the hand of its Master—old and new at the same time. Changed.

Somewhere far away, he can hear his own name, pushed breathlessly past Satine’s lips.

Obi-Wan ignites his lightsaber.

In his eyes, it already burns red.

***

For a man so deeply rooted in his upbringing, change comes quickly for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Satine watches it with her vision blurred, still adjusting to the cool, crisp air returning into her lungs. She’s kneeling again, propped up on her hands and with her mind spinning, but for this, Satine will fight through the overwhelming heaviness trying to swallow her whole.

So Satine watches.

The transformation is so minor she might have missed it had she not spent every night in the past, countless years picturing him in her mind. Even his posture seems different—he stands straighter now, more confident, as if the weight of the world has suddenly been lifted from his shoulders. His hold on his weapon has always been steady but relaxed, allowing him to swing and deflect with ease. Now, though, the lightsaber lays firm in Obi-Wan’s hand—the stance of an attacker, of an opponent hardly expecting any resistance.

Whatever reaction Maul had hoped to elicit from Obi-Wan was not this—not the calm, collected warrior, simply waiting for the first, reckless strike. But Maul doesn’t seem to notice this—doesn’t even look at Obi-Wan’s body, his attention entirely somewhere else.

No, Maul is focused on his eyes.

They used to shine a lovely cobalt—the kind that reminded her of the sky, bright and gentle at the surface but dark and troubled deep beyond, with only the stars left to navigate it.

Now, Obi-Wan’s eyes shine a gold that could rival the very sun itself.

They are nowhere near the same as Maul’s—the Sith Lord’s eyes are tarnished with hatred, with anger—soon, perhaps, with fear.

But Maul only sees what he wants to see—a reflection of himself that he could kill.

So Satine keeps on watching.

The guards raise their blasters and point them at Obi-Wan’s back—ready to strike as soon as the order is given.

They should know better than that. Even Satine, though her foggy vision and spinning mind, can see that this…this is personal.

“Leave us,” Maul snarls, and his own weapon springs to life—the Darksaber that never should have gotten into his hands. Satine has never much cared for it, but she knew her people have—and, no matter the outcome of this fight, this weapon will forever be tainted. Mangalore’s legacy, poisoned by Maul’s hateful touch.

The guards obey and begin backing out of the room, though their blasters stay aimed at Obi-Wan, who doesn’t even turn or flinch—he only stands, meeting Maul’s gaze directly, those golden eyes catching some of the light from the heavy chandeliers above.

Another guard enters then, his voice echoing through the large space. “Intruders at the landing platform, my lord—”

Satine almost cries with relief. Bo Katan—her message did get through despite the ship’s ruined transmitter.

“Go,” Maul orders, his voice dipping so dangerously low it is but a rasp carried through the air.

Slowly, he steps down the dais, the clank of his metal feet scraping the stone beneath. He’s forgotten all about Satine, now, a predator focused fully on his prey, ready to strike. The dark glint of his saber casts a long shadow trailing him like a pet.

She tries to pull herself up—to stop this, somehow, knowing it can only end one way. She’s never wanted this—this death, this bloodshed. Not on Mandalore—not anywhere in the galaxy. But her body is too weak, perhaps it, too realising, that, just as there cannot be light without darkness, there can be no peace without war.

And Obi-Wan has to win it.

He has to.

Obi-Wan raises his lightsaber over his head—a stance she’d seen him do many times—the blue hue doing nothing to hide the gold shimmering in his stare. Maul’s eyes narrow, the Darksaber twisting in his hand—one weapon answering another.

It’s a language Satine understands yet has spent her whole life refusing to speak. Wishing for it to die out, as all things do, and make way for another.

She understands now that sometimes, some wishes do not come true. So she wishes for another thing—for Obi-Wan’s warm touch, for his soft lips on her own. She wishes for him to survive—for him to win.

Everything happens too quickly.

She is still too dazed, perhaps, too weak and breathless to truly grasp the speed with which Maul moves as he lunges. At some point, Obi-Wan has managed to shift—to adjust his stance to something else entirely, lowering the lightsaber so swiftly she hadn’t even registered the move.

Neither had Maul.

With the Darksaber aimed for Obi-Wan’s head—where his weapon has just been, casting a bright glow over his face—Maul swings the Mandalorian blade, about to cast the finishing blow.

But Obi-Wan is faster. Smarter.

His lightsaber plunges into Maul’s chest, a small smile touching his lips.

Deadly.

Maul’s arms still hover over his head as Obi-Wan thumbs the hilt, and the weapon switches off, free from the burning hole in the red-black chest.

And then, the raging Sith Lord, the poison of Mandalore, drops to the ground with a loud thud.

“You,” she can hear his rasp, choked from a breathless throat. Some cruel part inside her thinks it ironic. “You have no idea what you’ve become.”

Obi-Wan only stares back.

Maul chuckles, the sound immediately cut off by a strained, hoarse cough. “You truly are alone now, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan looks at her then. Golden eyes meet a pair of blue—sun and ice, balance, as it was always meant to be.

“No,” Obi-Wan hums. “I don’t think I am.”

***

Satine sits on the throne, looking out to the bustling city below. She can still hear the cheering in the streets—she has a feeling the celebrations will continue well into the night.

She’d spent the entire day in the medical wing, every cut, bruise and swelling looked over multiple times until, hours later, she decidedly announced she was fine and practically recovered. She was needed somewhere else.

Now, as the evening beings slowly melting into dusk, she finds that she truly is fine—Mandalore is free once again, and with new allies. For now, there will be peace.

For now is the only thing she has. She will worry about the future later.

Later, because one of her guards has just announced another petitioner. The word makes Satine’s lips curl into a smile. “Petitioner,” she chuckles. “Please send him in.”

Obi-Wan Kenobi strides through the grand door, the Mandalorian armour he’d stripped off of one of Maul’s warriors still adorning his strong frame.

It shouldn’t have that much of an effect on her, but it does. She’d only ever seen him in Jedi robes before—and, well, she’d seen him out of them, too—but this…to see him like this, in her home…A pleasant wave of heat rushes through her, no doubt already flushing her cheeks.

Red suits him.

Obi-Wan bows deeply when he reaches the dais, though his gaze remains on her own. “My lady,” he says in a greeting, and she knows there’s a smile hiding behind that formal voice.

“Leave us,” Satine commands, and the guards promptly hurry out of the hall.

Only when the door shuts behind them does Obi-Wan ask, “I trust your discussion with Bo Katan was…productive?”

He already knows the answer to that—has seen Satine’s sister seamlessly fall back into her old role, mobilising the army to capture Maul’s traitors and keep the skies over Sundari at peace. Still, Satine says, “It was.”

A single ah escapes him, and she uses that brief moment of silence to search those eyes with her own. She isn’t sure what she’d expected—but they are still golden, still blazing with that same clarity she saw while he was facing Maul. More importantly, she’d half expected him to be gone by now—to hurry off to Coruscant, the way he always did. They way he always had to.

And yet, Obi-Wan is still here. Still wearing those golden eyes and red armour. Still looking at her as though nothing else in the galaxy mattered.

“What happened?” she asks quietly. She doesn’t have to specify—they’ve always understood each other, one soul bridged with another, their thoughts and feelings flowing freely between them both.

“I made a choice,” Obi-Wan says.

“Do you regret it?” She doesn’t think she would’ve survived if he said yes.

Obi-Wan takes a step toward her, his handsome features softening into a smile. “Of course not.”

She bites into her bottom lip—an old habit she can’t seem to let go of. Obi-Wan’s eyes trail the movement, and she tries not to think about the way his eyes darken as they settle on her mouth.

Not yet, at least.

“So what happens now?” she asks him, already dreading the obvious answer. “You go back—to keep the peace.” It doesn’t even come out as a question anymore—he is about to leave her again. She might as well state it as a fact.

“You mean to the Jedi,” Obi-Wan says.

“Are they not the same thing?”

His chin dips. “I thought so, once. I’m…not sure anymore. I don’t know if I ever want to find out.”

Satine isn’t entirely sure she is breathing as she starts, “But you are—”

“Not a Jedi,” Obi-Wan interjects. “Not anymore.”

There is no sadness in his tone—and perhaps that is why Satine asks, “What are you, then?”

He looks up to meet her gaze again and holds it long enough that she is not sure he even plans to answer.

But then, Obi-Wan steps up the dais and kneels.

“Yours,” he says. “If you’ll have me.”

She reaches for him, then—for his handsome face, her thumb grazing over his beard. She relishes in it for a moment before she tells him, “I always have.” Her thumb brushes his lips now. “I always will.”

There is a second of silence—as though the world has paused around them—before Obi-Wan’s chest falls, and his hand captures the one on his face. Before he presses his mouth to the pads of her fingers, kissing each one slowly.

That familiar heat swirls through her again, settling somewhere deep inside her—pooling at her very core.

When his hand drops her own and moves to rest on her knee, Satine dares to tangle her fingers between his hair—to pull him closer.

She doesn’t wan’t him far away from her ever again.

“Then allow me,” Obi-Wan starts, his voice lower now, darker, “Allow me to live out my life in service of you, Duchess.”

“Obi-Wan,” she breathes.

“I’m yours,” he agrees, then slides a hand down her leg.

Satine would be lying if she said her choice of a gown tonight hadn’t been purposeful—Obi-Wan seems to have found the slit in the silky fabric quickly, now pulling it upwards and revealing her smooth skin. She can’t help but shiver at the feel of his hand on her bare skin—it has been so long since she felt that fire, his fire, setting her body alight.

When the hem of her dress finally reaches her thigh, Obi-Wan leans down and presses a kiss to her knee.

Satine looses a shuddering breath. It makes him look up—look up and smile as he notes the flushed expression on her face, the slightly parted lips. She knows what he wants, now—has never wanted it more badly herself.

She only gives him a nod before losing herself in him completely.

Obi-Wan’s mouth moves up her leg now, tracing her inner thigh, the kisses more open, more wet as he reaches closer and closer to where she aches the most. Satine can’t help but shift slightly, her body already desperate for friction—for him, filling her entirely, their bodies joining as one the way they were always meant to be.

Obi-Wan chuckles lowly as he notices her desperation—her impatience. He braces his other hand on her other thigh, now, curling his fingers around it, holding her gently yet firmly in place. It crosses her mind now that anyone could walk into the throne room, or fly past the large, wall-length windows, at any given moment—and find their Duchess spread open on her throne with a former Jedi’s face buried between her legs. They’re exposed here, too exposed, and—

Obi-Wan seemingly senses this—or perhaps she said those words out loud—and chuckles again, the rumble of the sound reverberating into her skin. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Satine laughs then—though the sound melts into a moan as Obi-Wan’s mouth hovers inches away, right over the apex of her thighs, and she can practically feel his smile as he understands her plot at last—as he realises that she is, indeed fully bare under the gown he’d so eagerly opened.

“Clever,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his breath tickling her hot skin.

Somehow, she still has half a mind to tease. “You know me.”

He hums. “Indeed I do. Though perhaps,” Obi-Wan says, pressing a kiss to her clit that makes her gasp echo through the walls, “Now is a good time to get, ah…reacquainted.”

Satine swallows. Hard. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The golden glow of his eyes is her only warning as Obi-Wan’s tongue drags clean up her centre.

Satine’s head rolls back, resting against the solid rock the throne is made of, and the city beyond seems to disappear entirely—there is only her and Obi-Wan now, Obi-Wan and his blasted tongue as it takes another taste.

He licks into her like the world is shattering around them—like there is nothing left that matters but the feel of her cunt fluttering around him. She peels herself off the stone headrest to look at him, to take him all in, and the sight makes everything tighten inside her—she needs him now, hard and fast, for all the years they’d lost that they could’ve had together.

Obi-Wan’s fingers move then, travelling down her to her entrance, a small groan escaping him at the slickness there. He licks her again, long and wet up her cunt, before two of his digits move inside her, thrusting in and out until she is breathless and all she can see are stars.

Satine cries out his name, then, overwhelmed with the pleasure he’s coaxing from her as his fingers curl up against the roof of her walls, hissing as she tightens around the touch. He, too, is panting now, his tongue swirling over her clit, swollen from the attention he’s been giving her, from the look of pure, unrestrained hunger upon his face. He licks her like a man starved, like he lives for the moans and the raspy breaths she’s offering him, mindless from the feel of his long fingers pumping in and out of her in a quickening pace.

She’s practically shaking, now, her blonde hair a sea of waves falling messily all over her face. Her grip on his own hair tightens—she is so close now, with her heart thumping loudly in her chest and lightning coursing through her veins. Obi-Wan doesn’t stop though, his tongue flicking at her clit, determined to see her come apart. To see her belong to him just as much as he does to her.

When his mouth closes on her clit and sucks, Satine comes with a strangled cry.

The only sound she’s able to make is the gasping chant of his name as he continues stroking her pulsing walls, riding her through her release. His mouth presses slow, gentle kisses to her clit now, ones that reduce her to nothing but a shuddering mess around him.

His eyes seem brighter than ever when he pulls back at last—like the brightest light in the darkness. She realises then that, perhaps, that is what the two of them are—have always been—to each other. No longer the Duchess and the Jedi, but Satine and Obi-Wan. He has always been hers, the same way she has always been his. For her, he will lay himself bare and become the man he thought he’d never get to be. For him, she will make sure he gets to remain that man forever.

They will fight for each other.

And that will always be enough.

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mangofetts · 4 years

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star wars filthy headcanons

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!

din djarin

HUGE breeding kink. this man loves to fill you to the brim. every mandalorian learns from a young age about the resol’nare and he wants to fulfill his duty as best he can. on the subject of this, he cums a lot, like an unhealthy amount. this comes from the mando race in general.

big bondage fan. loves to use the binders on you or tie you up with rope. he uses the magnetic binders so he can pin your hands above you and keep them there without him constantly making sure they’re there. also helps him relax and make sure that you don’t make any moves to take off his helmet while he’s not paying attention (not that you would, but he likes to make sure). he also likes pinning you with his body. loves gagging you as well.

cum play. since his load is big, it doesn’t stay in you for long so he likes to go back in with his fingers and plug your cunt so no more comes out. he loves facials and/or cumming on your chest, belly, and thighs. something about that just drives him crazy, seeing you marked with him. he also scoops the cum up and feeds it to you or even rubs it into your skin like it’s oil for a massage (he’ll clean you up real good if he does that don’t worry ;))

gun play. he likes when you’re helpless under him with his blaster to your forehead as he tells you to not move or make any noise. there have beens times where he fucks you on his blaster and makes you suck all your juices off of it. HE ALWAYS MAKES SURE THE CHAMBER IS EMPTY AND THE SAFETY IS ON BEFORE HE DOES THIS. he does not want to hurt you unless you want it and he would never shoot you.

control and authority kink. he likes to have control over you. likes to pull your strings and make you do whatever he says. even better if you’re a brat, he’ll just have to be rougher with you.

a dom/sub relationship, with you being the sub most of the time. you guys use a lot of bdsm elements. you don’t call him any names in bed unless he wants you to. it’s either mando or din.

cockwarming!! he likes to make sure that his cum stays inside of you and he likes the feeling of you around him.

praise kink both ways. he likes to praise you for taking him so well, for listening to him. and he likes to be praised because he wants to know what he’s doing is good. he’s been deprived of praise since he was little (the mandalorians are proud of him, just never showed it) so he needs it when he’s with you.

paz vizsla

once again, huge breeding kink for the same reasons as din. he also just loves kids and would like to have his own clan instead of looking after other foundlings. he also cums an inhuman amount.

DADDY KINK. he loves being your daddy in bed, especially when you’re nice and desperate for him. this also has to do with the breeding kink, just all around big daddy vibes.

body worship. people are often afraid of him and he blames it on how big he is. sometimes he needs someone to tell him he’s not frightening. he loves doing to same for you, complimenting you endlessly if you need some pick-me-ups or if he’s just in the mood (which is literally all the time.

cockwarming. after filling you up, he likes to clean you up, and then put his soft cock back inside of you so his cum stays inside of you. will usually end up in morning sex.

praise kink. he LOVES being praised by you. telling him that he’s so good, that he’s absolutely beautiful, and that he’s strong makes him PREEN. he tries to return the favor by praising you, but he stammers and stutters it out because he’s not used to saying stuff like that out loud.

size kink. this man is 6’3”, almost 6’6” with his armor on. he loves smaller people because they’re tiny and fragile and he could just crush them in the palm of his hand. he is THICK. 100% GRASS FED BEEF MY GUY. big tiddies, big arms, big guy in general. he is very blessed under the belt, his cock is inhumanly big. he likes to hold you down and make you take it. likes to watch you take it too. if you want to drive him crazy, make it look like you are absolutely struggling to take him; any form of that will make him keen. tell him that his cock is too big for you, that’s he’s so big and that he’s going to split you in half. he will break you and you won’t be able to walk for days.

definitely a voyeur. he likes watching you pleasure yourself. he also likes being watched, even more than you’d think.

likes when you play hard to get. like he’s a predator and your his pray. alas you won’t run very far, his legs are longer than yours, but it’s what he does that makes it worth it.

boba fett

control kink, this is pretty obvious. notorious bounty hunter. he likes having complete control over you. this leads into his bondage kink.

bondage, also likes using the binders on you, no rope though, just the binders. he likes to watch you struggles and they make pretty bruises on your wrists and ankles.

likes to mark you up, make sure everyone knows that you’re his. he doesn’t want to lose his baby now does he? bites and bruises all over your body from his mouth, hands, and sometimes his boots if you’re into that.

spanking as well, he likes to make sure that you stay in your place. he doesn’t like a brat; he knows how to tame one though!!

gunplay FOR THE WIN. likes to hold the gun to your head while he fucks you, sometimes puts it in your mouth. he likes to fuck you with it and make you suck the barrel of it off. LIKE I SAID BEFORE HE MAKES SURE THAT THE CHAMBER IS EMPTY AND THAT THE SAFETY IS ONE. also likes using vibroblades on you too.

likes to slap and pull your hair.

HE CANNOT BE GENTLE AT THE BEGINNING OF YOUR RELATIONSHIP. you have to sit him down and explain/convince him to take some scenes slow. once he gets the hang of it he likes slow sex. likes to revel in the pleasure.

definitely likes to tease. he likes seeing you desperate. loves keeping you wrapped around his finger.

darth maul

breeding kink, he wants you to get pregnant SO BAD. he really wants kids of his own. he LOVES coming in you and plugging your cunt with a toy.

cockwarming. something about having his cock in you relaxes him immensely. he likes having you in his lap while he works and you sleep (or squirm).

likes to sub AND dom. he likes being fucked and fucking. ruling mandalore is hard and sometimes he needs to give someone else control. usually the scene is you fucking him with your cock, or you fucking him with your hole. either way is a great time for him.

likes to hurt you, but only if you like it. most of it is lightsaber play and knife play. he likes watching you scream and writhe under him. one time he used the saber to carve his initials on your thigh. another way he likes to hurt you is digging his sharp horns into your inner thigh while he’s eating you out. he likes watching you flinch away from him.

praise kink. he is not what people picture when they think of a handsome man. so whenever you praise him is a nice time for him.

MASTER KINK. he likes being called this, it’s like he has an apprentice even though palpatine told him he was incapable of having one.

likes collars and harnesses. he likes letting people know that you’re his. plus your chest looks amazing in those harnessses.

DIRTY TALK AND PET NAMES. this man is one smooth motherfucker. he’ll call you princess/prince, baby, kitten, darling, sweetheart. he will whisper dirty things to you, just to get you riled up.

kylo ren/ben solo

the biggest dom AND sub you will ever see. he likes being fucked and fucking.

pain kink, if he’s subbing, he likes when you pull his hair, cut him with his pocket knife, burn him with his own lightsaber, or even you stepping on his dick. not too hard, you don’t want to damage his goods, but hard enough for it to be slightly painful. the thrill of it all makes him blow his load HARD. if he has any open wounds he likes to press on them so more blood comes out + it’s painful. scenes like these usually end with a short trip to the medbay. if he’s domming he will not hurt you, not even superficially. most of the pain comes from him pulling your hair and pushing you to your knees harshly.

praise kink. after everything that’s happened, he definitely wants some soft loving sometimes. he likes giving and receiving praise!! although it takes him a bit to get the words out since he never says those things out loud anywhere else.

also kind of has a master kink, but prefers to hear his name over that.

he takes almost all of his stress out in your sessions so he’s nice a pliable after a good fuck or two.

aftercare is HIGH TIER. he has a nice bed, you like to stretch out on it while he gets you a glass of water and a warm wet towel to clean you up. usually some back rubs as well.

he loves being degraded. being told that his dick is too small, or that he’s a slut, or even that he’s nothing gets him going like nothing else. any insults you throw at him will be met with a groan or a keen if it’s especially mean.

can absolutely go more than one round. his stamina IS CRAZY.

these are off of the top of my head lol

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crossbows-and-moonshine · 5 years

Text

All or Nothing (Chapter 12) COMPLETE

(Chapter 1)

(Chapter 2)

(Chapter 3)

(Chapter 4)

(Chapter 5)

(Chapter 6)

(Chapter 7)

(Chapter 8)

(Chapter 9)

(Chapter 10)

(Chapter 11)

Fin…

--------------------

What a difference a month could make. Savannah was now officially living with the boys, it happened after Murphy had made an offhand comment one day. She was practically living there anyway, sleeping there every night and only going home every so often to get some clothes. Murphy had casually joked about how she should just move her shit there with them so she didn’t have to keep going back and forth. There had been a moment of silence after the words left his mouth as they looked at each other, realising that it was actually a good idea and none of them would mind it. It was a big step for them, but one they were all willing to take, Connor and Murphy had spoken about it already since she was already living there essentially, and within a week, that's exactly what they had done. She had to get a bus to work now but she didn't care, she was with the boys properly now and that's all that mattered. Amy and Rocco were getting serious which made Savannah happy, and the five of them hung out most nights just having a good time.

Savannah had been awkward at first when the three were in public, the boys just gravitated towards her and seemed to touch her whenever they could. She had seen the stares she got, two guys hanging all over her and it had made her panic a little. The boys never pushed her when she was uncomfortable though and she was grateful. Things got a little better when they were walking with Amy and Rocco and Amy started shouting at someone who was staring, telling them to mind their own business, it had made Savannah laugh. Things changed even more though when an old lady at the grocery store had told the three of them that they were adorable together. Savannah had been gobsmacked if she was honest. Someone actually approved of their relationship, an older person no less and that had made her so happy. The boys had beamed with pride as she blushed and smiled shyly and from then on, she tried her hardest not to let it bother her when people looked on. They were curious, of course they were, it wasn't exactly what was deemed as a normal relationship. Everyone at the pub always acted like it was normal and no one ever questioned the three of them, she belonged to the boys and that was that.

To her though, what was once something strange and made her feel dirty to consider, it just felt right now. She couldn't imagine being with just one of the boys now. She had slept with Connor now too and the three of them had even been together all at the same time a few times. It had been daunting for her at first, but after doing it once, she had found herself enjoying it way more than she thought. Everything with them was just so much easier than she ever expected and she was happier than she could ever remember being.

She was sitting on the couch with Connor, his arm around her shoulders as they watched tv. Murphy had disappeared without a word and she was a little confused, as was Connor, but they didn't have a chance to ask him what was going on. He didn't seem upset or anything so she wasn't too worried, she wondered if maybe he had to go to the store or something. When he came back over an hour later, her eyes widened when he was holding a little fluffy black cat.

“Oh my God!” She squealed delightedly, jumping up from the couch to bound over to a very happy looking Murphy. A wide grin was plastered over his face and her reaction only made it worse.

“This, me love, is Mr Cuddles.” He beamed at her, making her snort at him as she reached out and stroked the cats head. It looked like a ball of fluff.

“The fuck is that thing?” Connor asked looking horrified as he made his way over, glaring at it. Murphy just squinted at him and Savannah took the cat from Murphy's arms, holding it close to her chest. It meowed at her, melting her heart and she pouted at it as the cat nuzzled her.

“A cat, dumbass, it's from the shelter.” Murphy stated dryly, looking back to Savannah and the cat as he smiled once more. She heard Connor heave a sigh and she turned her big eyes to him, still pouting as she gave him the saddest eyes ever.

“Please can we keep him Connor? Pleeeeease?” She begged, looking so desperate. He couldn't deny her when she looked that adorable, even if he didn't care much for cats.

“Aye, I suppose.” He sighed, sounding so hard done to, but when she grinned happily, he had to smile. Anything was worth her gracing him with that smile, he’d cut his own fucking hand off just to see it.

More days passed by and Connor was severely regretting his decision about the fucking cat. The damn thing seemed to hate him. It was always on Savannahs or Murphy's lap, but whenever he tried to make an effort to stroke it, it would hiss at him and scratch his arm and hand. Things got out of hand when he was getting in the mood with Savannah one night and the fucking thing clawed his dick. Savannah seemed to find it hilarious as Connor nakedly ran around the apartment trying to chase the thing to throttle it but it was way too fast. In the end, it jumped into Murphys lap and Murphy just smirked at him, the fucking bastard.

“The fuckin’ little asshole has shit in me shoes again!” Connor yelled as he stormed into the living room, said shoe in hand. Savannah was sat with her legs over Murphy and the cat was in her lap. Both she and Murphy looked at him, Savannah trying not to laugh and Murphy squinting.

“Mr Cuddles would not shit in yer fuckin’ shoe Connor, Jesus.” Murphy snorted, shaking his head. Savannah knew it was a lie, the cat seemed to favour Connors shoe over the litter box for some reason but she found it funny.

“Like fuck he wouldn’t, it's right here.” Connor narrowed his eyes, tossing the shoe at Murphy's feet.

“Well maybe if ye treated him better he wouldn't do it.” Murphy retorted casually, turning back to the tv like he was done with the conversation. Connor squinted at him and Savannah looked at him apologetically.

“He’ll warm up to you Connor, cats are just weird sometimes.” She said softly, smiling as his eyes turned to her. All his anger seemed to disappear and he gave her a smile and took a deep breath.

He was doing this for her, she wanted the damn cat and it made her happy so he would put up with it and hope to God the cat would get its head out of its ass. Savannah gently moved the cat and stood up, walking over to him. She felt bad, she knew the cat was being a little obnoxious when it came to him and she wasn't quite sure just what it was that the cat didn't seem to like when it had taken so well with Murphy. She wondered if Murphy had somehow figured out how to speak cat and had been conspiring with Mr Cuddles against his twin, the thought made her almost laugh. He smiled down at her and cupped her cheeks, everything was right in his world as long as she was there by his side, by his brother's side. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly and she fisted his shirt, melting into him.

He cried out and moved away suddenly as the cat swung from his trouser leg, claws embedding in his leg. Murphy burst out laughing, enjoying watching more than he probably should have as Savannah snorted and tried to pry the cat off Connor, he didn't want to let go though.

“For fuck sake, get him off the little fucker!” Connor yelled panicked, the claws were so close to his fucking balls. Savannah tried her hardest not to laugh and hurt Connor pride, she was sure he’d chuck the cat out of the window if she did that. Finally, she managed to untangle the cat from him and he narrowed his eyes at the girl as she scooped the cat up and cuddled it like it hadn't just mauled him.

“Should o’ got a fuckin’ dog intead,” Connor grumbled as he walked over to the couch and flopped next to Murphy who was still laughing his ass off.

“Fuckin’ shut it.” Connor growled at him, clipping him around the ear.

Murphy stopped laughing abruptly before pouncing on his brother, the pair smacking the shit out of each other as they hurled some interesting insults at each other. Savannah stood there watching with a quirked brow looking thoroughly amused.

“Come on Mr Cuddles, your daddies are fighting again, let's go get you some food.” She snorted as she walked off to the kitchen, leaving the boys to it. She was used to this by now, they did it at least every other day and she found it amusing to watch. She placed the cat on the island as she dished out the food for him, stroking his head affectionately. She glanced over the cat to the boys who were still wrestling on the couch. She was so happy, it was crazy and dysfunctional and weird but she was so fucking happy, she couldn't think of anywhere else she would rather be in that moment.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag

#boondock saints #boondock saints fanfic #murphy macmanus #murphy macmanus fanfic #connor macmanus #connor macmanus fanfic

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