#Boba Fett/Reader

[moodymisty]

Sound Asleep

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3]

Author’s note: I’ve had this little snippet jumbled up in my phone's notes for longer than I’ve currently been on tumblr, so I decided to finally clean it up. I have so many little things like this scattered across my various devices... Help.

Relationships: BOBF!Boba Fett/Fem!Reader (I only say that because of one usage of the nickname 'princess' there's no pronouns or specific body parts mentioned.)

Warnings: A little bit of crying, Nightmares, Age gap if you squint so hard your eyes actually hurt, Cuddling, Fluffy fluff, Mean ol' Boba being a bit of a softie

Word count: 1220

You swore you hadn’t had a nightmare since your childhood years; But even then, you couldn’t remember one like this. It had all felt so real, almost touchable. You sit up awake in a daze still feeling as if it had just happened.

Jolted awake in the middle of a cold Tatooine night your hair is just starting to stick against dewy skin, heart pounding in your chest. With a few kicks of your feet you push the blanket off of your body, wanting the air to cool your flush skin, and to stop that almost strangling feeling.

You’d fallen asleep down here because of how tired you’d been, and the trek upstairs to Boba’s personal room had seemed like leagues away; Without any surety that he would even return there before you awoke the next morning. He was a busy man, sometimes rest wasn't a guarantee.

So you’d slept in your old personal room he’d given you after he brought you to Mos Espa, but now you're wishing you hadn’t. It feels so lonely in here, the room feels giant and the shadows an abyss but at the same time suffocating.

When you manage to get your heart to stop thumping on your chest so hard it feels like knocking, you slowly lay back again with your head hitting the pillow. The ceiling is cracked- your eyes following the black string down past your feet before you dare to close your eyes.

But when you open them again, the room is still dark with not a hint of light from the windows. It's as if your body was forcibly stopping you from sleeping, still spinning in whatever your mind had dreamt up. And even as your eyes feel tired and body heavy, there's no amount of quiet breathing and counting that is letting you fall asleep. The knot in your throat tightens, back of your neck aching with how tense it is.

Eventually, the constant tossing and turning proves too much to handle, and you lean up and turn to slip your legs off the side. They dangle for a moment, hands clutching the sheets as you decide if it's worth it.

Was it worth trekking what seemed like lightyears up to someone who might not even be there? Or should you stay here and lay back trying to see if you could get even a few moments of rest before the suns start rising?

Bare feet gently hit the slightly rough, sandy floor with a soft pat, the light in the room just bright enough to see around. It was a straight shot to the door, and you slowly slip off the bed before softly opening then closing it. The steps up to Boba’s private room were tall and winding, and each one felt progressively harder than the last. At least none of the droids are around, you wouldn't want even the the stars outside to see you in this sorry state.

Once you reach the top of the steps, it's easy to open the door and slip inside. The door opens to a pale glow of moonlight, and you can see Boba’s outline. He's already awake; Leaning upright.

There’s patterns deeply ingrained in him and sounds are a big part of them; The soft opening of a door or footsteps were always things that set him alert. When he sees it’s you, easy to tell by the silhouette he can just barely see through the flowing fabric of your nightclothes, it’s enough to lull those alarm bells in his head a small bit.

And with a gravely, sleep coated voice, Fett calls to you.

“Need something, princess?”

His tone is almost taunting, teasing, but you don't respond to it with any of the usual quips. When you step deeper into the room, Boba can more clearly see the ragged expression on your face. The way your body is turned into itself. He makes no noise; Instead pulling the thin blanket back revealing more of his bare stomach.

“Come here, little one.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Bare feet pattering across the floor you walk to him and place one knee onto the bed, before hefting yourself into it and slipping underneath the blanket. Within moments you feel his chest against your back, an arm wrapping around your waist. One of your hands grasps his while the other lays empty, and you feel his chin on the top of your head.

He doesn’t ask what happened to render you like this; He knows nothing he could say would help with it anyways.

What does seem to help is just him; As it’s not long of you curling up around his arm like it's your life line that you’re finally asleep. He can hear the soft sounds of you breathing, the way even in your sleep you're attempting to fruitlessly hold him tighter. You have his arm in a death grip, and any attempt to pull away would surely wake you.

Fett doesn’t quite know how to feel about it. That he’s let you come so close to him that you feel safe, reassured he isn’t dangerous enough that you can be lulled asleep like this. These aren't clean hands you're holding.

But if you want to be here, you'll be here. He'd never refuse you.

He's no stranger to nightmares and terrors either, though he's had longer to learn to deal with them than you. His mind is more armored, less feeling. It's how he's learned to be.

Fett, not long after he sees that you've for sure fallen completely asleep, decides to stop watching you with such soft eyes; And get some rest himself. He doesn't get too many chances to do so.

When you wake up you can still feel the ache of a headache now passed, but your body doesn’t feel as tense as the night before. It requires a bit of an odd angle to raise your head, rubbing your eyes blurry as Boba's torso moves upward so he can look down on you.

“Going to let me go?” Fett watches your hands tighten even more against his arm, where it had been locked most of the night. You'd been gripping it like a lifeline, the only thing holding you to the ground.

“No.” Fett lets out a chuckle, one deep from his chest and still raspy with sleep. You can feel it in your own chest, as he raises up on his other elbow.

"Can't stay here forever, princess." His arm flexes in your hold, just about to pull away from you. Quickly you tighten, making a noise from your throat before you can get out the right words.

“Wait! Boba, just- Just a few more minutes?” His hand halts, but his eyes still bore down at you. The soft skin of your fingertips brushes against a myriad of scars, as you fruitlessly attempt to hold him still. He's placating you, as you know well he could easily just pull away and leave you alone.

"Mos Espa can wait a little bit," You say, holding onto his larger hand. He relents, and lays down on his side again; Pressing his bare chest against your back again.

Maybe it can, maybe it can't; But either way he can deal with the outcome.

Join the taglist here: @simp-legend @nekotaetae @coffeyorky @lokigirlszendaya @totesnothere04 @get-wr3ckered @rebel-finn @mandoloriancookie @therealnekomari @loverofclones @fxlsealarm @crosshairs-wife @sinfulsalutations @pb-jellybeans @jediknightjana

[bleughs]

closer and closer and closer

boba fett/reader

~3k words explicit, 18+ only! toys, masturbation, vouyerism, fingering ao3 link a/n: [john wick voice] people keep asking if I'm back and I haven't really had an answer. but now, yeah, I'm thinkin' I'm back! …idk how fics on tumblr work anymore, but i'm plopping this here! womp womp, give it a like/reblog/whatever happens now!

Dust falls across the vast Dune Sea, the sinking suns lassoing the heat of the day with it as it sinks below the far off horizon. The lamps are low around the palace, only enough electricity to flicker across the ancient stone walls. It’s the middle of the night — near morning, really, and the wind finds its way through any crack and crevice in the stone, the sound of the weaving breeze eerily similar to whispers.

The night is dark and all but quiet, except —

Except for a white-blue light illuminating your face, and a soft, constant bzzz muffled by the sheets over your body.

Two women, a human and a Twi’lek, moan into each other's mouths as they grind against one another. The Twi’, gorgeous cerulean skin sloping over full thighs, light lines of stretch marks zig-zagging across her hips, gently thrusts into her partner, a big, fat, fake cock swallowed by the human woman’s sloppy, wet cunt.

Quiet sounds emanate from your holopad, volume so low you can hardly hear but you do hear enough, aching groans from the receiver as the Twi’lek pushes into her deep, harder. Your own cunt throbs around nothing but the vibrating wand firmly on your clit makes your whole body shiver. Your eyes dance across your screen, from where the women are connected to the Twi’s long jeweled lekku to the human’s breasts as they bounce with each thrust. Your toes are already curling.

The holopad is propped up against a pillow on your lap, not the most ergonomic position but good enough to get the job done. Despite the low volume, the sounds of the video still echo quietly in the grand room, and the sheets below and atop you  — his sheets — are damp with your sweat. It’s been a long day and you’d hardly seen him, and you’re not desperate but you are needy and horny and unable to sleep from the restless coil in your gut and the wet ache between your legs. So you took matters into your own hands.

You’re not really sure where he is. But his bed was empty, and your wand was fully charged, and maybe there’s something about slipping in his bedroom and getting yourself off in his bed with his soft sheets wrapped around your legs.

Not that you think he’d mind. Your relationship is not one built upon control and domination... Well, sometimes it is, but only when the mood is right and he asks you to tell him how to eat it. You know he gets himself off privately, a small fact he likes to murmur against the shell of your ear as he enters you again and again and again, you sprawled beneath him and thinking about nothing but the way he pleases you so well, how you’d never leave this place if you could.

He tells you he often thinks of you when he touches himself, tugging the velvety skin of his thick shaft until he spills into his big hand. The thought alone was enough to make your body seize with ecstasy.

You think of him, too, often, in times like these. It’s hard not to when he gets you there so thoroughly, with enthusiasm. But sometimes you like to keep things fresh. You like to explore other possibilities. Not necessarily secret fantasies, but potential pleasures.

The Twi’lek says something about “taking it so well” and you utter an involuntary fuck at her soft, sultry tone. You readjust the want on your clit and the vibrations make you jolt and you have to turn down the intensity before you get overwhelmed. The human woman in your video nearly mimics you, lets out a pitiful whine and makes a move to scoot up the bed and away from the intensity of heat lover’s touch. But the Twi’ doesn’t let her. Blue fingers grip the soft hips of her partner and pull her close, thumb caressing the human’s skin with a particular familiarity that can only come with trust and affection. The dark leather of the strap cuts across the Twi’s hips, cups her ass, and she leans down over her lover and whispers something you can’t hear, but the woman below her moans and grabs her own breasts, kneads them, and one hand slips between their bodies down to her mound.

You push the wand harder onto your clit and stutter out a breath. A tingle starts in your toes and you know you’re close. Your gaze focuses on the receiving woman, on her pinched features and her face glistening with sweat. Is this what you look like when the pleasure becomes too much? Her head falls back against the pillow and the faintest of smiles graces her lips. Do you have such a natural, beautiful look of euphoria when you — when he — when maybe someone else…

You feel the tingle in your calves now, up your thighs, a spring wound too tightened nearly ready to pop. The vibrations from the wand seem to penetrate into your bones. “Please,” you say into the empty air. “Pleasepleaseplease.” The Twi’lek’s hips hit flush with her lover’s and they both moan, the Twi’ staring into her partner’s face with twitching lips and intense, fiery eyes.

Is this what you’d look like fucking someone?

Your cunt throbs at the thought.

A quiet wssk, hardly loud enough to hear. You’re coiled up too tight to notice anything else but the women fucking on the screen in front of you and your own pulsing core ready to release at any second. The wand is heavy in your hand and you eke out a strained, pitiful voice. “Please, gods, please,” you say. “I’m so close, please.”

A heavy footfall from across the room. “Finish, then.”

The voice — his voice — doesn’t quite make you jump, but you gasp, your hips jolt, and you loll your head to the side.

There he is, leaning against the doorway all too casual, helmet off so you can see the pleased smirk that graces his face. He’s got his armor on, deep green and hints of yellow and cloaked in shadows, nearly a silhouette if not for the faint golden light from the lamps that halo around him.

You bite your lip. “Boba, I — “

“Finish,” he says again, a deep grumble from his throat. He nods toward the quiet buzzing between your legs. “Don’t let me interrupt. Please.” If you were not so distracted, you might see the smile lines at the corner of his lips.

You take a beat to think about the situation in which you now find yourself. You lower the wand slowly back to your aching clit and let out a stuttering breath. This is not the first time Boba has watched you please yourself. It’s just that it’s often a mutual act with mutual pleasure, sometimes on opposites of the room or closer, on either ends of the bed, him standing at the foot and you splayed out on these very sheets. The images of his hand wrapped around his weeping, girth cock invades your mind only for a moment, combatting the quiet, erotic sounds of the video, still playing. You search Boba’s face for something, you’re not really sure, and all you really find are his soft, older features you’re so familiar with, and a glint of hunger in his dark eyes.

You gaze at him for a second longer, and then roll your head back over the pillow to focus on your video, eyes adjusting to the unnatural white-blue light of the screen. That spring is still coiled tight inside you, and the vibrating wand, the erotic movements of the women on your pad, the presence of Boba mere feet away, watching you — the wave is creating, you can feel it from your flexed toes to your tight throat.

The Twi’lek reaches down to replace her partner’s fingers on her clit, yellow nail lacquer standing stark against both their skins, and she circles the bud with skill. She kisses the woman below her, a little sloppy, and says against her lips, “Lemme feel this pretty pussy pulse, baby.” Her lover whines, face twisting in pleasure. The Twi’, thrusting and notching her hips against her lover, smirks. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

You obey her command.

A groan, lodged somewhere between your ribs, rips itself free and claws up your throat. That spring pops with such force that your hips lift fully off the bed, chasing the pleasure coursing through your veins and your wand pushes into your clit and the vibrations reverberate throughout your body. The feeling ripples from your very core as you come and keep coming, writhing on the bed beneath the thin sheets. You keep the wand exactly where it is even though it’s nearing too much. It’s everything. You’re flying and falling and forgetting how to breathe.

Not every orgasm is like this. But when you can work yourself up to these tidal waves, you stay beneath the water as long as you can.

When the pleasure threatens to envelop you whole, you lift the wand off your clit and fall back onto the bed, leg twitching with aftershocks. The holopad falls to the side, artificial light illuminating the wrinkled sheets.

Your eyes fall closed with fatigue and your ears ring. You still hear the deep hum from across the room, and it makes you shiver.

Boba’s heavy footfalls make their way to the side of the bed and though you can’t see him, you feel him beside you. “I never get tired of seeing that, you know.” You let out something akin to a laugh, but it’s lazy and breathy. A tender hand sweeps hair from your sweaty forehead, and you lean into his touch. He hums again. “You are stunning like this.”

The smallest smile lifts your lips. “And you’re a romantic all of a sudden.”

Boba chuckles. “I allow myself moments.” A pause. The whistling wind. “Mind if I take a look at what you were watching?”

You reach blindly across the bed, feeling for the holopad until you feel the metal edge, and hand it to him without looking. His callused fingers unwrap yours from the device.

It’s silent for a beat more, and then, “Huh.” You crack an eye open, peer up at him as he looms over you. He swipes across the screen, an eyebrow raised.

“What,” you ask.

“Nothing, I just — I didn’t realize you were interested in this…genre.” He looks at you over the top of the pad.

“Well,” you start, searching for some sort of explanation to give. You find the simplest one, and it’s the truth. “I am.”

He sets the pad aside, and smirks again. “Perhaps we’ll have to compare notes soon.”

You smile, languid and easy. The hand on your forehead moves to caress your cheek, and then cup your jaw. You relish the sensation of rough calluses of his hands against your skin, closing your eyes again and letting him feel you. He reaches further still, until he thumbs the swell of your breast, the rest of your body hidden beneath the sheets. You arch up into his touch.

“How are you feeling,” he asks, quiet.

“Mmm. Good.”

The sheets start to slip down your body, first exposing your breasts, cool night air perking your nipples. Boba makes short time of exploring this newly revealed skin. A big hand cups your breast, thumb passing over your nipple, kneads your pliant flesh. This is euphoric — you in his grasp, letting your inhibitions fall by the wayside as he palms you, exalting your body in his particular kind of worship. He sweeps his knuckles over your other nipple and you gasp, quiet, body still buzzing from your recent high.

“Are you tired?”

You shake your head against the pillow. “No, I — “ Your words stall as his hand drifts lower, across the soft flesh of your stomach. “I’m not, I mean — I’m not too tired.” Though your limbs are heavy, there’s a lightness to you. And you’re only getting lighter as Boba’s touch walks further down your body.

The mattress sinks next to you as he sits on the edge of the bed. “It’s past midnight,” he says, and his tone is even, calm, like his ghosting touches aren’t starting to work you up again. “You’ll be tired in the morning if you don’t get some sleep soon.” His wandering fingers reach the edge of your coarse curls, and the gentle ministrations are not enough and you want to grab his hand and put it right where you want it because the teasing is almost as bad as overstimulation, two sides of the same credit.

Instead of answering him with a command to stop messing around, a whine leaves your parted lips and your hips lift off the bed into his touch. The low rumble of a chuckle reverberates from him, and with his other hand he pushes your hips back down. “If you’re not tired, maybe I should lull you to sleep. How does that —“

Without coherent thought and working more on instinct, you reach down to grab his wrist, and you feel the tendons beneath his skin twitch as his fingers flex. “Stop stalling,” you slur out, and push his hand through your curls and to the wet, warm apex of your parted thighs. His fingers finally reach your lower lips, and your toes curl.

He does laugh this time, a warm sound that slips over you like how his fingers now slip between your labia, unhurried and lazy. “Yes, ma’am.”

Thick digits part you, and you widen your legs to give him more access. Wet, lewd noises fill the room now, your slick coating his fingers as he moves through your lips, taking his time. You twitch, still so sensitive, and let your mind clear of everything save for the pleasure Boba is giving you. He makes small sounds, low hums and groans as he works your cunt. He has yet to breach you, but it doesn’t matter because his fingers find your clit, swollen and responsive, and you suck in a breath when he circles it slowly. The hand not at your cunt roams north to massage your breast, easy kneading and flicks against your nipples. “You seem to have made a mess of my bed,” he grumbles, no doubt meaning the sticky wet spot you’re lying in.

You huff out an excuse. “It happens.”

“That it does.” He leans down toward you, and you feel his breath ghost over your face. “Not to worry, I’ll clean it up.”

And he kisses you then, with leisure and ease, lips moving against your own, tongue licking against them, and you bring a hand up to cup his jaw and pull him closer. You breathe him in, the musk and smoke and blaster fire of him, leather and steel and sex. He moans into your mouth and then his fingers enter you, finally, and you groan against his tongue and his swallows up the sound like he’s starving for it. Thick digits work you open, push up against your walls to find that coveted spot inside you, and find it he does because he’s done this before, dozens of times in the relatively brief duration of your relationship because you two just can’t get enough of each other. Boba is gruff and brusque and enigmatic and terse, but he’s also gentle and kind and profound and a giving lover, and he doesn’t ask you where you’re going or when you’ll get back but he always waits up for you anyway. His laugh may be rare but it fills you with the warmth of the twin suns, and his whispers against your skin tattoo a mark you’ll never forget, even if whatever this is may be fleeting, or maybe it’ll be forever. His eyes are dark and penetrating and he knows more than he lets on and you like that about him, that he keeps his cards close to his chest until he’s ready to reveal his hand. And when his hand is inside you, like now, you think this, this is what you’ve been starving for. To watch your pleasure flow into him as he gets you off, as he gives you a part of himself and you him, you sometimes think this is all you really need. You both give and take and give and though he can shake down kingpins and warlords, he takes you with gentle hands and soft, sultry words.

You gasp, throb against his three thick fingers inside you. “I’m close,” you rush out against his jaw, his skin warm and rough with scars.

He breathes you in. “Then come for me.”

You do. Of course you do.

[foxgirl95]

I’m just gonna put this here cause I feel like I never hear people talk about this and they should 😍

[trashy1turtle]

Yeah, I'm fine

*Types "«character name> x reader" into tumblr search bar*

[gloomwitchwrites]

Say Yes

Bounty Hunter Boba Fett x Female Reader

Content & Trigger Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, heavy suggestive themes, protective!Boba, Mandalorian!Boba, light angst, non-descriptive sex

Word Count: 2.5k

A young, handsome bounty hunter on Tatooine makes it a daily intention to ask you to marry him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // fluffuary 2024 masterlist

Mando’a Translations: cyar’ika – darling / sweetheart riduur – partner / spouse “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde” – marriage vows

“Marry me, cyar’ika.”

You glance up from the worn open tome resting on the counter in front of you. “Again? Really, Boba?”

The Mandalorian helmet, dented with flaking green paint, tilts slightly to the right. “You called me ‘Boba’ this time,” teases the bounty hunter.

You roll your eyes and push off from the counter, cheeks heating even as you grumble in false irritation.

Boba Fett, Jabba the Hutt’s favorite mercenary for hire, has asked you to marry him every day for several weeks now. And each time, you have refused him. For the first few, you were overly polite. But as his attempts continued, your polite rejections transformed into snarky quips and blatant dismissals.

It’s not like you don’t find the man attractive. Underneath the armor is an incredibly handsome man, and his attention has always been sincere. But Boba Fett is a dangerous man, and you’re just a simple shopkeeper trying to make a living in Mos Espa. In that regard, the two of you are incompatible no matter how much he persists and chases after you.

“I like how you say my name,” continues Boba, his voice a soft purr. “Sounds beautiful on your tongue.”

“And you are too forward,” you snap, knowing that your sharpness is just a cover. Which is silly, because you do like him, and Boba seems to understand this. Boba burrows beneath your skin, and you cannot dig him out.

“Am I?” he asks with mock offense. You really want to throttle him, but you also really want to kiss him.

“Yes. I don’t know how many times I have to say this, Fett,” you emphasize, deliberately using his last name. “But a ‘no’ is a ‘no’ even if you don’t like it.”

Yep. Push him away. Keep pushing. Maybe he’ll take the hint this time.

Boba Fett stands tall, arms crossed over his chest, one hip slightly popped. With the helmet on, you have no idea what his expression might be or what he’s feeling. Not knowing is maddening, and it quickens your heartbeat, a growing tingle buzzing in the tips of your fingers.

“So, all those touches meant nothing to you?” he asks with just the faintest hint of roughness in his tone.

“Yes,” you lie.

Boba shifts on his feet, shoulders straightening. “What about all the kisses you’ve given me? Hm? Nothing?”

Kriffing hell, why is this man always so direct? It’s nice that Boba is good about telling you what he wants and what he’s thinking for the most part, but it always catches you off-guard. It makes you weak, melting you into goo that he can mold however he wishes.

“Those are not enough to build a marriage, Boba,” you shrug. “There has to be more.”

“But there is more.” He steps around the counter, stepping into your space. “Isn’t there?”

Boba is right. There is more. There has always been more. Whenever Boba is on Tatooine, he is visiting you, talking with you, bringing you gifts, fixing things around the shop without you having to ask. He has offered to take you out after you’ve closed shop. He routinely takes a personal interest in your safety and security. Because of that, no one bothers you or tries to harass additional credits out of you. They stay away and respect you because they see you as Boba’s woman.

And it isn’t only that. He only ever speaks softly to you. He only ever treats you with respect and shows general interest in your life. The most maddening thing is how many women have actively shown their interest in him to his face, and he has brushed them all aside. Even after all these refusals on your end, Boba still declines their advances, and shows up at your shop each day insisting that you marry him.

“Why do you keep denying this, cyar’ika? You know I’d make you happy.” Boba is standing too close, almost on top of you.

“The shop is closed,” you reply. “If you’re not going to make a purchase, you should leave.”

Boba nods his head and backs up, reaching for an item off the shelf without looking. He deposits some credits on the counter, much more than what the item is actually worth.

“I’ll return tomorrow,” he says over his shoulder, tapping the counter as he makes his exit.

The soft chime that alerts you to when the front door opens echoes throughout the room.

You’re in the backroom organizing. It’s the next day, and Boba hasn’t shown himself yet. This might be him, but it’s likely not. There are times when Boba does not come, and you are fully aware that those are times when Jabba sends him off for a job.

“Sorry. We’re closed.” You step out from the backroom and immediately freeze.

Three Nikto bikers loiter in the middle of the shop. It’s evident that they are not here to purchase anything. Their dark eyes roam over the shelves and tables, but once they notice you, they focus in, drawing closer.

“Apologies,” you say, attempting to project your voice, to sound tougher than you are. “We’ve closed for the evening. If there is something you need right away, I can ring you up. Otherwise, you’ll need to leave.” You do your best to keep your voice steady and calm, but you hear the gentle shake.

“This street is our new territory,” hisses the leader of the group. “We were stopping by to offer our…services.”

Services, meaning protection, meaning “pay us or you’ll be a target.”

Tatooine might be overrun with crime lords and criminal activity, but the main powers at play are not known to harass the smaller folks just trying to make a living. These are outliers. These are individuals who answer to no one but themselves, and believe they can carve a piece out for their own gain.

Rarely are they ever successful, but that doesn’t mean they don’t try.

Just as you open your mouth to reply, the soft chime comes again. This time everyone turns and you sigh with relief when you see who it is.

“Boba Fett,” says the Nikto slowly. His shoulders stiffen and they all put their hands on their blasters.

The bounty hunter does no answer right away. His helmet moves, scanning the Nikto, and then you, assessing. Even from across the shop, you sense Boba’s anger. There are few things that rile him up, but you’re one of them.

“It’s not smart moving in on Jabba’s territory. Or to harass what’s mine.” When Boba says mine, he growls it. The possessiveness in his tone heats your flesh, sends a sharp spike of desire down to your belly.

The Nikto all glance at each other before the leader addresses Fett. “We didn’t know the female was yours, Boba.” He holds his hands out in a placating gesture, indicating that he didn’t mean any harm. Yet you know that isn’t true. Their intention from the start was to harass you for credits.

You scoff at female but decide to let it go.

“I think it’s best that you leave.” Boba steps to the side.

The duo glance at their leader for direction. The Nikto’s features are impassive, but he eventually inclines his head, exiting as Boba insist they do. When the last one leaves, Boba momentarily glances in your direction. The door stands open, and Boba exits with him.

When it whooshes shut, you sprint over to the wall panel, immediately engaging the lock and shuttering the windows. You stand in the silent shop for a few minutes trying to calm your heartrate. Once it’s manageable, and not beating so hard it might burst from your chest, you head upstairs to your small apartment above the shop.

By the time you’re curled up in bed, you’re no longer anxious, but there is the slightest bit of tension that lingers in your limbs. Sighing, you turn over in the bed, only to hear the brief pulse of a jetpack shutting off and boots on the small balcony outside your bedroom window.

Slowly, you push up to sitting, the bedsheets falling to your waist. You know it’s Boba. He does this some nights. Camps out and protect you in the only way he knows how because you’re too stubborn to take him up on his numerous marriage proposals.

Tonight, it’s obvious as to why he’s out there. Part of you is reluctant to leave him outside. You’d prefer it if he were with you, within arm’s reach, to see him without the helmet. Plus, nights on Tatooine can grow cold. You want him inside where it’s warm.

On quiet feet, you go to the door that leads outside. Opening it silently, you stick your head out into the chilly air, finding Boba as he leans against the exterior wall, arms crossed.

“You should be in bed, cyar’ika,” chides Boba playfully.

You swallow, suddenly nervous now that you’re confronting him. “Do you want to come inside?” you ask, a bit hesitantly.

Maybe it’s the uncertainty in your tone, or the way you shrink back a bit into the interior of the room, because Boba is suddenly alert, all of his attention attuned to you.

Boba immediately pushes off from the wall and approaches you, his hand on the door, pushing it wider. “Are you hurt? Did one of them touch you?”

You shake your head vehemently. “No. I’m fine. Promise.”

Boba’s chest heaves slightly but you’re not sure if it’s from his sudden movement or a releasing of relief. He glances over his shoulder at Mos Espa, the t-shaped visor of his helmet fixated on the city’s skyline. Turning back, Boba nods.

You step away from the door and Boba enters. Even with the door closed and the windows’ shutters slanted to dim the moonlight, some of it still spills over the room like tiny white rivers.

His helmet hisses as the pressure seal disengages. Slowly, Boba lifts the helmet off his head and sets it aside on a nearby table. He runs his fingers through his dark hair, the ends sticking up slightly after he does so. With the faintest movement, Boba turns, and that moonlight cuts sharp glowing lines over his face, highlighting tanned skin and dark eyes.

You don’t even realize you’re moving closer to him until Boba grabs you by the waist and pulls you against his armor-clad body. Instinctively, your hands reach out, locking onto the beskar. Boba’s head dips and yours rises to meet him automatically, and yet there is no connection. It is simply holding, a waiting between two hesitant people.

“You haven’t asked me to marry you today,” you murmur.

The corner of Boba’s lips turns upward in a soft smile. “Will you marry me, cyar’ika?”

“No,” you say automatically, before the two of you start laughing.

“Let’s try that again.” Boba reaches up and cradles your cheek. “Cyar’ika. Will you marry me? Will you allow me to speak the words of my people? And will you speak them back?”

The words of his people. The Mandalorian marriage vows. You are distinctly aware of what they are and what they mean. Which is why Boba’s earnestness isn’t fake to you. Mandalorians take their weddings vows seriously even though the process of exchange is simple. It is the intention behind the exchange that is most important to them.

That is how you know Boba speaks the truth, that him asking you to marry him is a genuine desire of his.

“Passion does not make a relationship,” you reply.

The answer is a shift away from actually having to answer. How many times have you and Boba ended up on the floor of the backroom after rejecting him? It’s more than you can count on your hands.

“That’s all this is to you?” he laughs. “You know I can give you more. I do more than that now.”

You curl forward a bit, rest your forehead against the beskar. “I’m scared,” you whisper.

“Of what?”

“Of what will change.”

Boba’s fingers brush under your chin and lightly guide your gaze back to his. “I wouldn’t ask you to give anything up.”

“Yes, but—”

Boba gives the slightest shake of his head and you instantly quiet. “Do you want me?” he asks. “Tell the truth.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I want you,” you breathe, allowing the words to drip off your tongue.

“May I have one of your kisses?” he asks softly, one gloved thumb lightly pressing down on your bottom lip.

“Yes,” you breathe.

Boba closes the distance, forms perfectly to you. It is slow and delicate and sweet. Your body hums with energy, and when you press for more, Boba growls and pulls back, hastily ripping off his gloves to reveal his bare hands.

Then he’s cupping the side of your face, drawing you back to him, tasting and tasting and tasting until your fingers are clawing at him in desperation. When he breaks the kiss, you still lean forward as if you can reach him.

“Then repeat the words with me, cyar’ika. Become my riduur.”

Boba presses his lips to yours, draws forth an air-stealing shiver from deep within your lungs.

“Mhi solus tome.”

“Mhi solus tome,” you repeat.

We are one together.

Boba slides an arm around your waist to drape softly over your curves. “Mhi solus dar’tome,” he says.

You say it back to him. “Mhi solus dar’tome.”

We are one when parted.

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

We share all.

This time, Boba slots his pelvis against yours, and you understand his heated intention.

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

“Mhi ba’juri verde,” you say with shaky breath.

We will raise warriors.

Boba snuggles the side of your neck, breathes in your scent. “I’d like to lay with my riduur.” His fingers find the edge of your sleeping robes.

“As long as I can have my riduur the same way.”

Boba grins against your throat. Together, the two of you remove his armor, piece by piece by piece. The moment his flightsuit is unzipped and he steps out of it, Boba is on you, drawing your lips to his, desperately claiming what is now so rightfully his.

Your own clothes are gone before making it to the bed. Boba runs his hands over your back, sliding down to lift you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his middle, and Boba carries you off, placing you gently onto your back.

His mouth upon your skin is a brand. Hot. Searing. It goes lower, lower still until you’re crying out for him, begging for him to be with you as your riduur should. Boba is happy to do so, sliding between your thighs so perfectly, you both lose yourselves momentarily before becoming nothing but a raging storm, waves crashing into each other repeatedly until one of you breaks.

Rest does not come until the morning suns begin to ascend over the horizon. You do not open your shop. And Boba does not return to Jabba’s palace.

There is peace for a while.

Harmony.

taglist:

@padawancat97 @foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @garfunklevibes2012 @tiredmetalenthusiast @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @kayden666 @cherryofdeath @enfppixie @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @beebeechaos

[erikoswinoswald]

[acatalystrising]

It’s officially been three years since THAT SCENE and I think all the Boba simps had their brain chemistry altered. Mine included. 🫡

This scene has borne so much smutty filth and I will not apologize…

[coldbrewarts]

They’re just lil guys

[maybege]

His Princess

Summary: You get proposed to in public and get help from someone unexpected.

Pairing: mafia boss!Boba Fett x mafia princess!Reader

Wordcount: 2.4k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, Mafia AU (and a very romanticized and inaccurate depiction of the reality of mafia life, I imagine), older man/younger woman, age gap, alcohol consumption, yearning, flirting, talks of arranged marriage

This is was written in the last like 2-ish hours. This is all @catsnkooks fault, really.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

By now, you should be used to the intricacies of going out for family dinners. After all, you had grown up with the rituals of your mother panicking about what to wear, and your aunts and cousins hanging out at your house for a long brunch before everybody got together at a restaurant owned by the family. And with family, you did not necessarily mean the blood-related one.

This was everything you had known for your entire life.

Something was different this time, though.

“I swear on my Blahniks if you don’t stop fidgeting, I will have your father drive you back home,” your mother hissed on the way to the dinner and you forced yourself to sit still.

“Sorry,” you muttered, trying to keep your hands from smoothing over the light fabric of your dress. It was the one you had worn to Tiffany’s wedding just last month and it had taken lots of convincing to let your mother wear it again so soon after. It was white with lace trimmings on the edge and a beautifully tailored waist that made the fabric smooth over your curves.

Maybe he would notice it too.

Boba Fett was a busy man, as your father was sure to reiterate every time your mother wanted to invite him over for dinner. Leading an entire mafia clan was busy work and Boba Fett took his job very seriously.

That did not mean that you never got to see him though. The notoriously elusive man had taken up a prominent position in your life (and your daydreams) these past weeks and now you found yourself hoping he would take up a prominent position this evening as well.

There had been that dance you had shared at the weddings. The flower he had sent afterwards. Or that time that your parents had set you up on a date with Matt and he had behaved horribly before leaving you high and dry at a family-owned restaurant before Boba Fett had sat down opposite you, keeping light conversation and covering the bill before sending you home in one of his cars.

Yes, it was safe to say that the older man had piqued your interest in a way few men had before him and now, at the one event that everybody was obligated to attend, you were excited to meet him again. Your mother always

Your goals for the evening were pretty straightforward: Keep a low profile, keep your mother happy and avoid any and all questions about your parents’ marriage plans for you. Your hopes for the night were a little bit different and included such hopelessly romantic things as: share a dance with Boba, talk to Boba without being flustered or – if all else failed – just try not to make a fool of yourself in front of him.

Luckily for you, the last point seemed to be easy to take care of. By the time you were led into the large dining room, most guests were already seated at the long table, making idle conversation as the waiters served drinks and appetizers.

Boba was already sitting in place at the head of the table, turned towards one of his advisors in conversation. It was not your place to approach and greet him, so you settled on watching him from afar. He was wearing a suit, perfectly tailored to fit his broad frame and the sight of the thick cigar he held between his fingers got a reaction out of you that previously only books you hid from the maids had evoked.

You accepted a flute of champagne with a smile of thanks and watched as your father approached his boss. It was futile to try and hear what was said but you watched as your father and Boba made short conversation, as your father pointed in your direction and Boba’s gaze followed. Maybe it was wishful thinking but you would bet your mother’s Blahniks that his eyes dipped below your face, recognizing the dress you had worn not too long ago.

Your father made his way back to you but Boba still held your gaze and you swallowed, feeling like a deer in headlights. You wanted to smile, or wink, or do something to show him you were up. But your body refused to move. It was Boba, then, who moved first. He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he moved the cigar towards his mouth. You could but he was still watching you, a knowing look in his eyes as if he knew you were clenching your thighs under the table.

What followed was the kind of three-course dinner you were used to. The food was fabulous, the drinks were flowing and you made polite conversation with the guests seated next and opposite you. Tiffany was seated a few seats over, unfortunately, with her new husband and you missed your usual companion. But at least it meant you could catch up on the gossip at the next brunch you had already scheduled.

The sound of a spoon hitting the glass led the conversation to die down. You took another bite of the bruschetta and watched as Matt stood up. He looked different today, you noticed, his hair was and there was sweat beading on his brow. In this room full of, he looked like he was about to pass out. And yet, he still managed to put on that slimy smile for his audience.

“Everyone, I am so happy we find ourselves together today because I have an announcement to make.” The smug smile on your mother’s face set off the alarm bells first and that was even before he mentioned your father’s name. “As you all know, we have worked closely together for years now – our shared family history can be traced back decades. And so, it only makes sense that, today, I can share with you the happiness of asking his daughter to be my wife,” for the first time this evening, he looked straight at you, no love in his eyes, “If you’ll have me, that’s is,”

The Aww that everybody let out was drowned out by the sound of your thumping heartbeat in your ears. Had your hands been clammy before, they were now positively sweaty and you clenched them around the white linen napkin. Your breathing got uneven as your brain sped through everything that just happened. Was this a joke? But if it were a joke, he wouldn’t do it in front of the general assembly. And he was still looking at you, not seeming worried at all. Why wasn’t he worried?

He had been the one to leave during your date, he had been the one to mock your taste in romance novels, your taste in clothing, your taste in everything, really. And he had been rude to the servers, too. In fact, the only good thing about the one date with Matt had been the one man who had saved you from crying alone in a restaurant with no way to pay the bill.

Your eyes flitted to the head of the table. As always, Boba Fett’s face was unreadable. He had leant back in his chair, his hand around a crystal glass of what you presumed to be Scotch. You couldn’t tell if he was surprised or not. Had he known about this? Had he signed off on this? Somehow, that made your heart clench even more than the attention everybody was paying you.  

Beside you, your mother bumped her knees into yours. “Answer him, darling,” she whispered and you did not need to look at her to know she was this close to losing her mind in public.

Answer him.

Answer him.

She knew. She must have known. Stars, how could she have agreed to this?

There was not even a moment of hesitation until you knew that you did not want to marry him. Hell, you barely knew him and what little you had gotten to know of him did not work in his favour. But were you really in a position to say no now? In front of everyone? In front of your parents who had most likely arranged the whole thing?

More and more and you felt like you were about to throw up the delicious bruschetta the chefs had prepared for you. How embarrassing that would be. You would have ruined the dinner for everyone and you probably still would have to marry that poor excuse of a man.

A deep chuckle interrupted your musing and you were not the only one to turn your attention to the man in charge of everything.

“That,” Boba Fett said lazily, “was the stipend thing I’ve ever heard.”

You couldn’t agree more and yet you wondered why he thought that way.

“I am sure we will find a good match for you, son, but that’s not it,” he continued, his voice careful but ungiving, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Matt looked properly nervous now. As did everyone else at the table. You could see some of them giving each other questioning glances. “Of course, sir,” Matt stuttered out, still standing with the glass in hand, “Y-you’re right, of course.”

“Good,” Boba shifted, his eyes meeting yours directly, “Then I say it’s time for dessert.”

When the tiramisu was carried to each seat, you were 60% sure that the wink the older man threw you was not a product of your imagination.

*

Normally, you hated that time after dinner that was designated for – in your mother’s words – mingling and you often wished that you could leave earlier. Spending the night curled up in bed with a good book seemed much more relaxing than trying to navigate the same twenty-five conversations full of small talk.

But the one evening where your parents were eager to leave directly after dinner was the one evening where you actually wanted to stay. At least until you could have a much-needed conversation.

“Leaving so early?” Boba Fett’s voice made your parents stop dead in the tracks.

“You know how it is,” your father replied, looking much more controlled than your mother. You were sure she was about to lose her mind in the car, going off into one of her rants about how difficult it was to find a good match for you and how all her hard work was undone in just two sentences.

The older man looked between the three of you, his eyes lingering on where your hands were fidgeting in front of your middle. Immediately, you let them fall to your sides. He did not need to know how nervous you were.

“Drive safe,” he said instead, nodding to your father.

Your parents took that as their cue to leave but you found yourself still standing in front of him. Boba Fett was a big man. Sturdy. Gruff. Intimidating to almost everyone who met him and you were no exception. Still, there was this inherent sense of safety you had when you were around him. Like even your parents could not be angry with you if you stayed behind to talk because it was him.

The man who held all the power.

“Thank you,” you murmured, highly away that Mrs Darrhun, Tiffany’s mother, was standing just two steps behind you, ready to report everything she heard back to the network of mafia wives.

“Don’t thank me, little one,” he stated, “I’m afraid I did it for a very selfish reason.”

Your brows furrowed and you wondered if you could ask him what he meant by it. But maybe the answer would not be what you hoped for.

“I guess this is goodbye,” you said instead, internally kicking yourself for saying something so obvious.

“It seems it is,” he replied, taking a step closer. His scent washed over you and you did not know whether you wanted to close your eyes or keep looking into his dark ones. “May I give you a proper goodbye?”

Before you could ask what a proper goodbye was, a thick arm was hooked around your waist. Your gasp was quiet but he was close enough that he could hear. He was close enough that you could feel the heat of his body and you watched with baited breath and a racing heart as he lifted your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm.

The intimacy of the moment overwhelmed you. You were convinced that no one. Sure, you had had a few make-out sessions here and there but nothing came close to the feeling of his warm mouth on the sensitive skin of your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. His hand was so big around yours, yet so gentle, and you wanted to stay like this forever. Forgotten were the dozens of people around you. Though, sadly, not for long.

 “Come on, honey, the car is waiting!” your mother called from somewhere behind you and you swallowed. Your heart raced as you tried to keep the panic at bay when he slowly stepped away from you, letting your hand go after giving it a gentle squeeze. You barely had a chance to talk to him!

“When will I see you again?” you blurted out, eyes wide at how obvious you were being. Stars, Tiffany would laugh at how overt you were with your affections. Flirting is an art, she always said, it’s a game, and you cannot let anyone see your cards.

Boba Fett did not seem like a man who made it a habit of playing with open cards. You, on the other, were sure you had just shown him your entire set. The question was just if you minded it.

“Do you want to see me again, princess?” he rumbled, his eyes roaming over your body, making you shift, “I just interfered with you getting a husband after all.”

This was it. This was your moment to be brave, courageous, flirty, all those things you admired about your best friend.

“Well, of course, I’d want to see my future husband again.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, so did the air leave your lungs. You were in limbo, breathlessly waiting with wide eyes, if the man would laugh you out of the house. Stars, he really might. That would put this officially at the top of your list of worst evenings in your life so far.

The corner of his mouth quirked up and relief filled your body. At least he wasn’t offended, that was good. And then you watched as his mouth formed into a full grin and there was and you had never seen anything so beautiful.

“Well, who am I to keep my princess from her husband, hm?”

[moodymisty]

Do you have anymore Daddy! Boba writings? 😳 I honestly loved it sm and couldn't stop reading it!! <3

Author's Note: that’s the only Boba Fett thing I’ve written as of yet, but I have been working on something for Boba Fett for awhile, so here's a snippet of it. It's been fighting me tooth and nail so I honestly I'm probably going to dump it, but I hope you enjoy this part of it none the less. SFW Boba content on the horizon as well.

Summary: Don't tease Boba Fett.

Relationships: BOBF!Boba Fett/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Porn without Plot, age gap if you squint, Daddy kink(the word is only said once but the vibe is there please don't continue if this isn't your thing), SoftDom!Boba, Sub!Reader, Oral sex(female receiving), Boba has a nice big bed in his room and not just a bacta tank

'Go upstairs.'

His words echo in your ear, knowing that as you ascend, he isn't far behind.

The steps are steep, and you almost trip over your own feet trying to quickly make your way up them. Bits of sand dragged in from the desert outside crunch under your feet, the stone of the walls cool against your hand as you brush your palm along it.

When you reach the top and open the large door, you can still clearly see the suns casting large amounts of light through the windows, but it's quickly turning to a more comfortable orange, as the evening begins. If you were to look outside them you could easily see large swaths of Mos Espa, but nowhere near the entire city. The buildings all being bathed in the setting of the suns- shades of yellow fading to orange fading to purple.

There's not much up here of interest apart from the view, as Fett's personal room is sparse. A bacta tank, an actual bed, an armor stand. A few other things here or there, but the expanse of the room feels almost empty- unfilled. Looking towards the door it had closed behind you, and has yet to open since your entrance.

You wonder how much longer he's going to keep you waiting; Fett knows well that your patience does have a limit. Any longer, and you might consider going back down for him and making more trouble for yourself.

But just as you turn around you hear the sound of the door open, and Fett's familiar dark green armor strides through the doorway. He instantly notices you, watching the way you're leaning against the stool of the window.

"You took long enough." He's stepping closer, helmet looking down on you. He hasn't taken it off quite yet, the dark tint of the visor reflecting your own face back at you. The set of his shoulders is firm, and even through the helmet you can tell he's staring you down.

"I'd be careful with that mouth of yours," He says as his hand cups around your jaw, gently tilting your head upward as your lips gently part in a silent invitation.

"It's already gotten you in enough trouble today."

Trouble? For just a tease?

Fett steps even closer, and you can feel the hard metal of his armor against your chest.

"What were you thinking, princess?"

You weren't. That was a part of the problem. You couldn't stop yourself; It had been a split second urge that you couldn't hold in when you had him for a moment alone. He was about to return to the throne room- he had guests waiting and was about to slip his helmet back on. But in that split second, you'd kissed him and whispered something in his ear.

'Don't take too long, daddy.'

The word hung on your lips even after you'd spoken them and made your face burn, as you rarely ever say it- let alone when you're right of mind during the day. But you'd done it to tempt him, aggravate him; Make him think of you when you're not even there. When he's busy trying to be a stalwart Daimyo, but thinking about you uttering words to him that no one right of mind with stronger morals would say.

It had worked, it seems.

You feel one of his hands tug at your clothing, hard enough to feel it almost dig into your skin. Any more and he might've snapped the string seaming it all together.

"Take it off."

His firm, unwavering voice will never not send a shiver down your spine, as you grip the edge of your clothing the moment he lets go.

Bit by bit you slowly peel it all off, underneath the weight of his gaze. His helmet is still on, but it isn't long before he takes it off; After your clothes fall away and your back hits his bed. It almost feels like he's looming, watching you like a predator. He's stripped away enough of his armor that it no longer poses a nuisance, leaving mostly his black flightsuit.

It dips under his weight as he follows you, dark brown eyes watching the way the blankets wrinkle and bunch around your body.

His rough hands grip your thighs and in one fell swoop tug you close to him, before he lowers himself to your level. As he does, he can feel the way your thighs tense as well as your whole body, in anticipation for what he is about to do. You can now feel his breath fan over your still covered pussy, and even that almost ghostly sensation has it throbbing. He looks up at you before pulling that thin piece of fabric off, stretching them as he yanks them off your ankles.

"Was this what you were waiting for?"

His lips brush against the apex of your thighs, the roughness of stubble just ever so barely starting on his jaw scraping against your skin.

"I, I just missed you, I-"

Your hands grip the blankets as his tongue suddenly dives into your cunt, breath getting caught in your throat. Your thighs threaten to close, but he doesn't allow it. He gives you no mercy, brushing over your clit as his hands grip your thighs. He has them tight, enough so that if he isn't careful he might leave marks, holding you in place. Even though it's futile you still can't help the way your hips twitch upward with each sudden jolt of pleasure, but he follows and gives no rest none the less.

One of his hands leaves your thighs to gently press his fingers against your slick entrance, the other moving higher up your thigh to still hold you firm at the hip. As two of his fingers slowly press inside of you he can feel the way you clench around him, as he slowly thrusts them into you to the base.

They work in tandem with his mouth to have you almost seeing white, biting your lip hard as you try not moan so loud it echoes in the expanse of the room. The wet noises of him eating you out already do, the wetness of your own arousal slick against your outer lips and the insides of the very tops of your thighs.

But Fett knows you well, far more than anyone else and possibly even yourself, and he has you cumming on his face in what feels like only moments. His fingers are soaked from you, as well as his lips, which he only brushes off with the back of his hand as your heart pounds in your ear and you still feel the way your lower stomach turns and toils from your orgasm.

He gently but firmly taps the side of your hip.

"Turn over."

You can't help but listen, moving onto your stomach within moments of him asking. You can then feel the weight and heat of his cock hit against the back of your thigh, making your pussy clench. One of his hands grabs your hip, cocking them ever so slightly upward. The angle makes it easier as he presses the head of his cock against you, slowly and steadily pushing into your wet and already slightly abused heat.

Fett always loves the soft noises you make when he starts fucking you; Feeling your body stretch to take him. You always bite your lip, and moans come out as cute little mewls and gasps as you attempt to cut them off.

His hips hit your ass hard, quickly setting a pace that takes the breath from your lungs. He almost feels like too much; Like he's everywhere around you all at once. You have to put a hand forward against the headboard to keep from being pushed forward, the other trying to grip whatever you can to keep yourself grounded.

"B-boba," His name softly leaves your lips, feeling the heat of his breath on your skin. But moments after you grit your teeth as his cock hits deep inside of you, brushing against sensitive nerves that has your pussy tightening around him.

"You're so quiet, little one."

He's teasing you, poking at the way you're trying to muffle your voice in the fabric of the pillow. You can only groan in response, overwhelmed by the lewd sounds of skin on skin as he mercilessly fucks you.

"Make some more noise for me."

Not putting the taglist on this one because I would actually just die. whenever I write daddy kink I feel ashamed lmao like this was fun to write but if you mention it to me I might just evaporate

[joelsbloodyhands]

HISTORY, HUH?

Din Djarin x Reader, Boba Fett x Reader (small teaser)

DESCRIPTION: When you get injured by a bounty, Din takes you to Mos Espa to get help from an old comrade. AKA; Din gets jealous when he finds out you and Boba have history.

WARNINGS: Discussions of injuries involving blood, descriptions of jealous behaviour, references to smut 🔞 but not explicitly written, references to gun use (ahem blaster use!), mentions thoughts of torture (just readers imagination), kissing, mentions of panic underwater, Din being clingy af, established relationship with Din, past history with Boba, a sprinkle of angst, unrequited love.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 🚀✨ cover photos from Pinterest

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader is in an established romantic relationship with Din. Reader has parent relationship with Grogu (no gendered title used). Reader does not have a visible disability and has hair long enough to be pulled over their shoulder.

“I know this one,” Boba speaks, his eyes on your unconscious body, focused intently on your pained expression in a deep slumber. Din lifts his gaze, analysing the fellow bounty hunter uneasily. Din’s gloved hand rests instinctively on top of yours, laid flat against your stomach, his eyes darkening behind his helmet, unable to read his comrades face behind his own green weathered mask.

“In what regard?” Din speaks, his own tone scaring him.

Boba’s shoulders relax with a sigh as he looks you over again, “Little troublemaker,” Din hears a hint of playfulness in his words, a hidden note of admiration.

“We’ve crossed paths before. Can’t say I’m surprised to see them in such a predicament,” Boba gestures to your mangled shin and bruised shoulder. “How did this happen?” He asks and Din’s taken aback slightly by his sharp, disapproving tone.

“My bounty. Chased him down an alley, tried to corner him but he had allies. We were cornered and well…they…,” he runs a thumb over the back of your hand, his tone holding a hint of regret, “Well, they stopped him but-“

“Not without injury,” Boba responds, his voice a pitch lower, Din’s head turning once again, apprehending his friend’s sudden anger. Though was Boba’s anger directed towards the bounty or Din himself for putting you in harms way? He couldn’t tell.

“We should get them into the bacta tank immediately,” he lifts his head then, meeting Din’s piercing gaze. Though neither of them could see the others expression, Boba still cocks his head at the mandalorian, a wry smile playing on his lips. “You can trust me, my friend. I have no quarrel with your companion.”

Din hesitates, looking to the end of the room at the large metal windowed casket. “I’d feel more at ease if you explained your history,” he speaks, his head turning back to Boba who adjusts the blaster in his hand almost uncomfortably.

“Not my business to tell. I’d sooner face your wrath than theirs,” he nods to your face again, soft pained murmurs leaving your mouth now. Din squeezes your shoulder very gently, Boba watching him murmur sweet assurances in your ear, his cheeks warming underneath his helmet.

There’s no saying how long the two men stood hovering over your body silently, almost both deliberating how to move you to the bacta tank. Or more so not “how” but “who” would actually carry you there. Din found his hands slipping under your thighs and back, hoisting you against his chest gently, your head falling against the cold metal of his chest piece. You mumbled as he carried you over to the middle of the room. It took a moment for heavy footsteps to follow behind him, a gloved hand tapping buttons to open the glass chamber. Din laid you down into it while Boba watched him, analysing his movements with intrigue.

"If you can hear me, cya'rika," Din softly speaks causing Boba's fingers to stiffen above the control panel, "you are safe. This device should help the healing process. I will be close by. Do not fear. We are with trusted friends.” Din lifts his head almost seeking confirmation for the latter from Boba who nods once firmly. Din takes your hands in his as soft breaths leave your pained lips, he places your hands so that they are overlapping on your chest and then mindlessly taking the breathing mask Boba was holding out to him, placing it over your mouth and nose securely. Din forces himself to pull back from his protective hold against your hands, allowing the capsule to encase your body, filling quickly with the fluid as Boba's configures from the panel.

"How long does it take?" Din asks, his voice weak and rough, his eyes watering at the sight of your body so close yet feeling so far from him.

"Depends upon the injury," Boba starts, his eyes darting between the two of you; the Mandalorian he had come to known as a trusted ally and the trusted ally he had come to know for far more in his heart. "For this injury, perhaps an hour or less. Until then, we can wait in the throne room."

"I will not leave their side," the Mandalorian's words come out thick and unable to be coerced otherwise.

Boba sighs, his eyes back on your injury, the flesh of your ligament already re-growing, "they would not wish for you to stand by and wait. They'll be angry upon awakening if I know anything about their attitude towards injury in battle. There will be an air of shame-"

"It is not THEIR fault," Din argues, feeling an overwhelming sense of grief for allowing this to happen.

"I am not placing blame on anyone," Boba asserts, his voice lowering an octave to indicate to his old comrade that he means no threat. "But as I mentioned before, the...troublemaker and I have history. I know this. They would want you to take care of yourself while the opportunity allows it so that they can heal and awaken when the time is right."

Din shakes his head, his fists clenching, his visor focused solely on you and you alone.

He knows Boba is right.

You never did fare well when you got injured during a bounty hunt. You were self-deprecating, kicking yourself that you could have done better. It took the soft side of Din to convince you that you were good enough to fight alongside him. HIM who you called the best of the best, "a true warrior that I could only long to compare to. The fight is your religion. Your creed has taught you well." With all the sweet words of praise you've whispered to Din both in casual passing and intimately in the dark confines of your shared bunk, Din can only try to offer you the same but where he may excel in battle, he lacks in performance of admiration.

One which he vows to improve upon when you awaken.

"Fine," Din responds just when Boba's defeated steps move towards the large entryway.

"We will wait."

Some time later...

"Din..." you had started, grasping for your second blaster at your thigh. "There's another one-"

You are awaken abruptly with a jolt at the blaring sound of blaster fire colliding in your head. Your eyes widen, stinging and only allowing a fog of vision when you thrash suddenly, your hands thrusting forward, palms hitting a wall that you shove at mindlessly.

You're in water.

Or at least some sort of fluid.

Your movements are slowed. Your eyes blinking uncomfortably. There's some sort of mask over the lower half of your face, allowing air bubbles to escape above you.

You try to calm, your heart beating unsteadily.

One minute you were being shot at, the next you were here.

Where the kriff was Din? Grogu?

You moan out loud, trying to make some noise, your palms attempting to hit the wall blocking you from escaping.

Did they get hurt? Did Grogu get taken? Or were you captured and now laying in some sort of torture device awaiting your inevitable demise? What if Grogu was being dissected and Din was being beaten to death in the next room?

Fuck no. Calm. Calm down.

You close your eyes. Allowing your arms to drop slowly in the surrounding liquid.

Jumping to conclusion. Panicking solves nothing. I think better when I'm relaxed, you tell yourself, slowly but surely letting your fingers graze the surrounding hard bubble finding sharp edges beside your body.

There has to be a way out from the inside, you think.

Just when the panic returns, thoughts of Din hanging unconscious nearby or your sweet son laying on a ice cold table, your finger slips on something square and hard, causing a red light to blare in the liquid and a sudden suction sound to drag all the fluid down from your body. Your hands move quickly then, yanking at the mask over your mouth, the wall that you now realise was a windowed case, slides open. You cough, your hands going instinctively to your abdomen and leg, fingers smoothing over your skin exposed by the gaping rips in your clothing where the shots burnt through.

Healed.

Your eyes widen. Not a single mark of evidence that you were even shot to shit to begin with. Your neck snaps up, your eyes blinking away the remaining fluid taking in the room.

Wait...I know this place. Don't I? That banner.

Two banners hang from the stone ceiling above a large arched entry baring an embroidered signet you're all too familiar with.

"Well fuck," you say out loud, a grin plastering your lips.

You swing your legs off the side of the strange coffin-like device, your eyes overlooking it with a quirked brow. You slip off the side, wobbling slightly on numb legs, pins and needles in your feet as you wiggle your toes to rid of the discomfort.

Your legs carry you drunkenly from the room and under the large moss green banners, allowing one last grin to grace your features. You're not taking any notice of the water staining the stone floor with puddles as you pass through familiar rooms, carrying your fatigued body past a simple throne. You roll your eyes at it momentarily, a smirk on your lips when you stop at the sight in front of you.

Two visors snap to attention in your direction, standing in alarm at your unexpected presence.

“Huh,” you say with intrigue, overlooking the two men opposite each other at a table.

Grogu in the middle stuffing his face with soup, making a squeal of happiness when he sees you.

“This is a sight I never thought I’d see,” you murmur loud enough for them to hear, approaching the table while they both round it, Din more hurriedly than the green armoured man hovering near his abandoned chair.

Your full attention taken by the green bean making grabby hands your way, your smile gracing your features as Din manoeuvres your wet hair from your cheek and tucks it behind your ear.

“Are you well?” He speaks, gaze flashing to Boba whose busy looking over your exposed leg and stomach.

“I am, hey baby,” you soothe when approaching your small son, lifting Grogu from his high chair and bouncing him on your side when he takes your face into his hands, babbling a mix of mando’a and nonsense.

“Yes I’m okay, bean. I feel a lot better now. Please don’t worry,” your head lifts but it’s not Din who catches your attention, it’s the other armoured man, stood to your left, his wandering gaze lifting to your own.

“Boba,” you nod and he does the same back.

“Star-shine,” he speaks back and you don’t miss the way Din’s body turns rigid at the pet name.

You scoff, stifling a chuckle, “can’t remember the last time you called me that.”

Din’s hand slips to your side, gently tugging you further into him, his beskar cold to the touch against your wet skin.

You look up at him in surprise.

Din rarely instigated affection in the presence of others. It was then you realise he hadn’t turned his head from Boba, staring him down through his visor.

You’re distracted by what seems to be the growing tension between both men until you feel softness sliding over your bare shoulders, hands gently tugging the material around your body.

You smile.

“Fennec,” your body turns to meet a familiar grin, hands sliding around your wet hair to pull it over the blanket.

“You caused quite the worry,” she notes with amusement, her eyes glancing between the two warriors and back to you with raised brows.

Your cheeks burn when you realise neither helmet has turned back to you. Though unable to see their expressions, you had a feeling you didn’t need to.

“Din?” You try and sure enough the visor tilts back to you immediately, his stiff body relaxing and moulding into yours again. His fingers clutch your side.

“Mesh’la?” You look down uncomfortably at your wet clothes but before Din can respond, his shoulders lifting in realisation of what you’re asking, another voice cuts in.

“The trunk in your chambers houses some of your wares,” you mentally groan, watching Din’s body stiffen again.

Boba continues without a beat, “I’ll escort you.”

Fennec hides a smile when Din incapacitates.

“We’ll manage,” his hand taking yours possessively and wandering off towards a hallway just behind.

Fennec calls after, “on the right,” watching you both disappear and watching you get dragged into the room with a bewildered expression at the steel back in front of you.

She turns and looks back at the green helmet, dropping his visor from your direction back to her raised brows, “really?”

"It's been awhile," you say without a beat, tugging the long leather jacket over your figure, a shiver running up you while you stand outside in front of the palace.

“I didn’t think you would return,” the aged modulator responds.

Boba turns from his stance in the middle of the path up to the palace gate, his visor focusing in on you.

You allow a small smile to grace your lips as you walk to his side, watching the people of Mos Espa go about their daily markets.

“Not of my own choice anyway,” you tease and smile to yourself when the older man falls silent, his visor back on the market stalls.

Din had gone to fetch the Crest. You had offered to walk the short distance to it just on the outskirts of the town but your still uneasy figure had Din retaliating immediately and with a pressured look at Fennec who stood near the entryway to your room smiling curiously, he ordered her to watch over you while he went to retrieve the ship.

That was only a few minutes ago.

You left Fennec to babysit Grogu much to her narrowed gaze at the small child and her initial refusal. You had stifled an amused laugh when you left them to retrieve some fresh clothes and found her walking him around the palace rooms showing him artefacts from travels and battles. It gave you the opportunity to slip away to get some air. Grateful to have a moments peace since being encased in that tomb you now learned was a bacta tank.

“Thank you, by the way,” you spoke up, noticing the way Boba’s shoulders relaxed slightly under his rigid armor. “You didn’t have to help but you did. I’m grateful and in your debt if you ever need anything.”

“I think we’re past owing each other debts whenever one of us saves the others life. Would you not agree, star-shine?”

You smile slips only momentarily, “you’re angry at me?”

“No,” it comes out rushed and slightly raised. Boba falls silent a moment and you know he’s deliberating the delivery of his words before speaking them aloud. As was his nature as ruler of Mos Espa.

“Star-shine,” Boba spoke and you couldn’t mistake the way it shook slightly.

You turned looking to him.

“I know you are a wanderer. Content with roaming the planets to your own leisure but please do not forget that you have a home here in Mos Espa. In our home.”

He punctured the word “our” and you swear you saw the way his helmet tipped to the silver one you were now well aware of looming behind you silently.

Boba clears his throat, “at least, remember to visit when you have some time. I know Fennec would be grateful to see you. She’s very fond of you.”

You smile.

You understand what he means.

This isn’t about Fennec.

“I’ve missed you too, Boba,” you smile and you watch as his visor turns to the bustling market nearby like before, “and again thank you for answering Din’s distress call.” You turn your head, meeting the silver visor now looking down at you, a gloved hand seeking yours, “and allowing me use of your bacta tank. I know how important that device is for you. You look well.”

Boba turns back then and you notice the way his previously hunched shoulders relax slightly at your informality of which he wasn’t sure he could share with you.

“And you?” Boba inquires, his visor dancing between you and Din. “You are well?”

You are happy and safe with this Mandalorian companion you seek refuge with?

You nod, a peaceful expression on your face as your fingers intertwine with the gloved one tightening in your grip.

“You have history,” Din mentions, trying to seem nonchalant about prying for the information he so desperately needs to know.

You were both back in hyperspace now. The reunion pleasant but short-lived. You felt a small ache in your chest, missing the familiarity of the planet you were speeding away from but there was a relief too being back on the Crest.

“Somewhat,” you respond with a shrug, rocking Grogu to sleep in your arms, his small green hand clutching your shirt.

“He wouldn’t tell me how you knew each other,” Din added, pressing buttons to get the ship into auto pilot.

You smile, “probably didn’t want to upset you.”

Din turns in his chair then, swiftly, his boots stopping the full turn harshly against the floor of the ship as he meets your gaze.

“Did he hurt you?”

You laugh in response causing his cheeks to redden.

“More like the other way around,” you grin.

“Oh, what did he do?” Din asks and you clock the obvious innocent tone he’s implying, knowing full well he’s desperate for information.

You humor him. “Ner kar’ta,” you begin making Din’s heart race at his language gracing your lips, “it’s endearing how much you trust that I wouldn’t harm someone without reason. You truly think me so innocent?”

Din sways slightly in his chair, distracted by your beauty, his lips tugging up mirroring the smirk on your lips.

“To ease you, it was at the start of our relationship. It was how we met.”

You let off there. Not speaking another word, waiting for Din to press you further.

“Tell me,” his words reach your ears, oh so quiet and sweet.

You fight a smile.

“If you must know, I shot him.”

You giggle and Din sits forward with immediate interest.

“Why?” he asks.

You elaborate.

“At the time, I was seeking passage on a supply ship. One of which Boba and his allies choose to infiltrate. Of course he thought me a threat and of course I thought him a common pirate so we had a stand off which resulted in me shooting him point blank in the abdomen. Fennec appeared then. It seemed she saw right through me and stepped between us. She explained that the real pirates were these people that I was travelling with and I agreed to assist them for a price. Enough money for off planet travel to Naboo. She agreed, on Boba’s behalf and much to his rejection might I add. It seems Fennec took a liking to me.”

“A rare thing,” Din adds and you nod.

“So we took control of the ship. It was rather simple. They already trusted me of course. We landed it in Mos Espa and I assisted Fennec with getting Boba to aid. I housed with them for some time. Safe to say we didn’t like each other to start but with time, a sort of friendship happened.”

“And more?” Din asks quietly.

“Are you jealous, Din Djarin?” You ask, causing him to evade your intense gaze, head turning from you.

“I don’t mind if you are. I rather like jealousy on you, ner riduur.”

Din’s head flashes back to you.

It’s the first time you’ve used that term and one Din has yearned for quite some time since you started travelling and establishing a relationship, parenting Grogu between you.

“I just…I know it isn’t my business,” Din sighs, “but I just need to know if-“

“We only kissed, my love. That’s all,” you smile reassuringly.

Din doesn’t like any mention of the fellow Bounty Hunter touching you but his body does relax at the thought of the two of you progressing no further than a brief kiss. Though, the way Boba looked upon you and spoke to you betrayed any thoughts that whatever the older man saw of you was anything far from platonic.

“He confessed his feelings for me,” you add, grinning at the look of surprise you know would be plastered on Din’s face.

“I know I was shocked too.”

Din’s cheeks blaze, he’s always taken aback when you can tell how he’s reacting under his helmet.

Your smile slips, “I felt bad though.”

Din remains silent, knowing there is more to this story that you need to get off your chest.

“I’ve never seen him that vulnerable before. He’s usually so stoic. It wasn’t like I must confess, I have developed feelings for you. You know how he can be all formal and shit, yeah well, nothing like that. He was genuinely all like, shit, I think I’m falling for you. I don’t fucking know why.”

Din shakes his head in shock at what you’re saying. None of it sounds like the bounty hunter he fought alongside at all.

You shuffle uncomfortably, trying not to rouse your sleeping child, “There was a lot of cursing, believe it or not. A lot of pacing, his face was as red as the surface of Dathomir. You had to be there. I told Fennec. She didn’t believe me for a second then apparently he started venting to her in the middle of the throne room while they were waiting on a contact to show up because I was leaving the next morning.”

Din speaks the words that have been eating away at his brain while you’ve been recounting the story to him.

“Did you share his affections?” His voice betrays him, trembling at the last syllable.

“I don’t think so?” Your brows furrow, shaking your head in exasperation, “Did my heart flutter a bit when I would watch him in a fight? Yeah it did. I quite like how stern he can be. Makes me think how different he might be intimately but I don’t know, it just seemed more like curiosity than anything else. I still didn’t feel a want to remain in Mos Espa. I wanted to explore, see the universe. With or without him…it didn’t really matter to me.”

“Do you feel that way about me?” Din eagerly responds.

“No,” your answer is immediate, your eyes fixated determinedly on Din’s visor.

He’s silent when you explain.

“When we met, it was more than finding you hot when you beat the shit out of a bounty or curious about how sexy you looked under that helmet.”

Din’s fingers twitch, adjusting his seating position when his lower half feels like it’s tightening against his armor.

“it wasn’t curiosity. It was genuine desire. That’s the difference. It was the desire to wake up to you every day, regardless of what mood you might’ve been in. I craved your praise whenever you would tell me I did a good job watching over Grogu or when you were teaching me how to shoot. My heart still goes crazy whenever you’re even an inch behind me and I can sense your looming figure above me.”

Din’s heart pounds at your words.

“I am so in love with you, Din.”

Your eyes soften with your words.

Your lips plush as the confession he’s already aware of graces your lips once again. Spoken even more beautifully than the first time you had admitted to him, that the time you had spent together meant far more to you than business.

You wanted pleasure too.

You wanted it from him and in every way that he would give it.

And he’d give you anything you asked.

Din stands, his body gravitating to you, taking a knee before your chair.

You drop your head back, closing your eyes and inhaling sharply when you feel the cool metal touch your forehead delicately.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

You can’t fight back the smile twitching at your lips.

“I desire a life with you, Din,” his heart clenches at your words, his fingers brushing your lower back lovingly.

“And our son and whatever other foundlings you would want with me,” you smile shyly at him and he shakes his head with a chuckle.

“Mesh’la…I know you’re not teasing when you say that and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a desire of mine as well,” your eyes sparkle up at him, surprised by this new information. “But what about seeing the universe? Travelling from planet to planet? Isn’t that what you want before deciding to settle down with me?”

You sigh happily, using your one free arm to slide up past his chest, embracing around his helmet and pulling him closer.

“I’ve seen the universe, Din. I have. I wake up to it everyday. Every time I’m in your arms.” You gaze sweetly through his visor, feeling the way his arms tighten around you.

“Close your eyes.”

An order.

One which you’re more than willing to obey knowing the outcome.

You close your eyes, hearing the sound of metal clattering on the near console before feeling soft lips caressing yours.

!!Bonus Scene!!:

You’re in the cargo hold having since put Grogu to bed, organising food portions in a trunk near Din’s weaponry. You thought the bounty Hunter was busy sat in his flight chair navigating to your next refuge, so it was safe to say you were scared shitless when his modulator sounded close behind you.

“Is he a better kisser than me?”

You smirk but it fades quickly when you turn around to face him towering over you, his body moving closer and crowding you so much your back hits the cold wall of the ship behind you. You take a moment, searching the darkened visor focused on you like prey.

You let a wry smile reach your hot cheeks, batting your eyelashes at him.

“You’ll have to remind me.”

It takes a second for the lights of the ship to go out, plunging you into darkness, a crash of metal against the floor and warm lips meeting yours hungrily.

“Where’s our boy?” He pulls back breathlessly, your heart pacing at the rugged tone of his voice no longer hidden by a modulator.

“In our bunk,” you reply, feeling his ungloved hands on your face, relishing in the feel of his calloused fingers dancing along your jawline. His hands slip down your arms, gently grazing the insides of your wrists making you weak before intertwining your fingers and tugging you back towards the ladder.

“The chair it is then,” Din responds, his hand guiding your lower back now against the ladder crowding up behind you while you remain blind in the dark. His hands taking yours and placing them against the cool metal to guide you up.

[daimyosprincess]

THIS TENDER LOVE

—PAIRING: Boba Fett x F!Reader

—SUMMARY: When you’re a little nervous about your first time, Boba helps you get in the right headspace.

—WORD COUNT: 2.2k

—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, daimyo!Boba, virgin reader, implied age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is an adult), reader described as having hair, reader discovers a bit of her inner brat, some heartfelt feelings for good measure, lots of pet names per usual, Daddy kink strikes again (but only at the end)

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: I don't usually write first times but bestie @baufraus inspired me to write about a certain princess getting shy and Boba's response. Daimyo Boba is so patient and daddy I can't imagine a better person to show you the ropes 😌

Divider by @saradika

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

You’d wanted this. You’d wanted this for so fucking long. Dreamed and wished for it.

So why can’t you just open the door and go out there?

Blinking against the clean light of the ‘fresher, you frown in the mirror. It’s not like you’re some blushing virgin who just discovered the place between her legs; you’d read and even watched plenty of things that had given you a chance to start learning what made you shake and moan. And although you’ve never done most of those things you fantasized about—much less had your first real kiss—you aren’t clueless about sex. You’re just a virgin, and Boba is just a man.

A man who dotes on you, protects you, and makes you laugh. The man you’ve fallen in love with. He’s been your whole life for the past seven months, ever since your uncle included you in his tribute to the new daimyo. 

Your reflection sours at the memory of your despot relation. After you’d come of age, he got rid of you the second the chance presented itself, content to leave you at the mercy of the galaxy’s most feared bounty hunter. But Boba had been nothing like the stories the servants had whispered when they heard the news, nor had he been anything like your tyrant uncle.

No, he had been kind to you. Rough around the edges, but kind. You’d even begged him not to send you back to your planet when he informed your pilot that he didn’t keep slaves or girls in his palace. Even back then, sacred and naive, you’d felt you were in the presence of a true ruler, a man who gave his word and kept it. He swore he would never hurt you, never pressure you, or let any harm befall you and you believed him. 

You still do.

So why are your feet frozen in place and the thought of going to him suddenly impossible? You’re a modest person by nature but this shock of shyness is more than you’re accustomed to, especially since you’d taken to sitting in Boba’s lap on the throne and wading in the garden pools in light dresses while he smiled at your joy. 

“Princess?”

Would you be enough? Would he find your inexperience a burden? 

He said he wouldn’t, that he was honored to be the one you trusted with your tender love. But that was before you couldn’t imagine showing your face or looking him in the eye. 

“Sweetheart? Everything okay?” his deep voice calls from behind the ‘fresher door. A hint of worry tinges his tone. “It’s not too late to change your mind, little one. I won’t be upset. This is all about you and your comfort.”

You don’t want to change your mind. You want to experience every sweet, sinful thing he has to offer. You want to learn and taste your combined pleasures. 

So why can’t you move?

Tears threaten to well in your eyes. “Boba?” your voice cracks. Tears do form now, hovering in your lashes in hot frustration.

His voice is just on the other side of the door now, thick with concern. “You want me to come in?”

“Yes,” you sniffle, dropping your face into your hands in stinging embarrassment when you hear the door slide open. Just this morning you’d been giggling and teasing, whispering in his ear on the throne how you couldn’t wait to become his—now you’re a tearful mess. Even if he doesn’t say as much, it’s surely pathetic to him. Why would a king waste his time with a sheltered princess when there are beautiful men and women whose hands and mouths already know the paths to pleasure?

His unarmored chest presses against your back and you instantly ease back into the circle of his arms, your safe and sacred space. Boba gently turns you inwards so your head can bury into his neck. You curl your fingers into the soft weave of his undershirt.

When you try to speak he shushes you with a small sound and a kiss to the top of your head. He rubs the small of your back until the tension drops from your shoulders and you slump your weight onto his.

“That’s it,” he murmurs into your hair. “Relax, babygirl.” A few heartbeats pass before his hand tilts your chin up from his shoulder. “How about we just curl up tonight? Watch one of your holos?”

A thread of urgent fire lights down your spine. “No!” Boba’s brows shoot up and you wince at your echo bouncing off the walls. “I mean, no. I want to… tonight, with you. I just…” Heat blooms in your cheeks, your previous shyness taking over once more. 

You try to return your face to your hands but Boba catches your wrists in a loose hold at your sides. His warm eyes flicker with first a thought, then a decision.

Bona leans slowly into your space, drawing out the small movement to allow you to pull away. When you remain in place, sweet and curious, he presses his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. The feel of him surrounding you, his warm smell, the feel of his strength just below his skin acts like a drug, overwhelming your senses and unfurling your desire like the first soft blooms of spring. He tends to you, encouraging your blossoming by leading your arms over his shoulders and dragging his tongue along the smooth seam of your lips.

His breathing deepens as you slide your palms over his wide shoulders, up his neck to pull him further into you. The heavy sound drips down your body in a sweet trail to your dampening core, the pant of his breath tickling your eyelashes and hairline. You had imagined what a kiss, a real kiss, would be like a thousand times. How your lover’s mouth might feel moving on yours, how your hands might roam and grab, the crushed feel of fabric and limbs seeking skin. 

Yet kissing Boba is nothing like that.

Just as dreams are mere imitations of true sensation, kissing Boba Fett is nothing like you imagined—it’s so much more. Swirls of color that materialize into touch, sounds that brush against hot skin, and the humbling reminder that you are all too human and so is he. It’s mortal and frightening and perfect. You want to open up your chest and let him in, let him taste every part of you so you can exist within someone else. 

Isn’t that what people crave? What they die for?

“Princess…”

The scraped restraint in the daimyo’s voice flickers in your belly. You wanted this, dreamed and wished for it. If you pull away now, you’ll lose it to the stifling swell of bashfulness dammed behind your kiss. You chase his retreating lips until he stalls you with a large hand on your jaw. “Easy, little one,” he soothes with a brush of his thumb over your cheek. “There’s no need to rush.”

“But I-”

“Want it?” He flashes you a white-toothed grin that has butterflies flittering through your insides. You can’t hide your face like this, so you scrunch up your toes and dig your nails into his shirt. He chuckles and kisses the tip of your nose. “Don’t even think about hiding those pretty eyes,” he gives a quick squeeze to your jaw, “keep them on me.”

Oh, the irony of having a staring problem and suddenly being unable to look at the handsome man in your arms. 

Dragging your eyes up his face, you take in every dip and crease of his bronze features, remembering how the bow of his lips and how the texture of his scars felt against your soft skin. The same skin that now feels too hot and tight. When you eventually light on his eyes, they crinkle up in another bright smile. It almost makes you squint. “They were on you,” you mumble into his silence.

“What was that?” The firm way Boba’s other hand snakes around your waist has you swallowing back the sass you were about to give him.

Where is that coming from?

“I-I said they were on you.”

Something dark shifts in his gaze. Something that makes you clench on your emptiness. He considers you for a couple more seconds, his head cocking to one side like the many times you’d seen him on the throne with his subjects. Deciding. 

When you start to squirm under his gaze, his lips quirk into a pleased expression. “You never cease to surprise me, little one.” Seeing your confused look, he continues. “You’ve got some brat in you... I like it. You stopped being so self-conscious when you ran that smart mouth.”

You suppose you had. Although you aren’t usually one to push back or act out—it was quickly punished in your uncle’s house—it did feel good to let the scrap of sass slip. Made you feel a tiny bit more powerful, more evenly matched with Boba’s strength and confidence. You test your next words on your tongue before you fire them. 

“Then show me how much you like it?” you try.

Boba’s smile turns sharp, more hungry. “One kriffing kiss and she’s already getting greedy.” 

You gasp when you feel the grind of his hardening bulge on your hip. He shifts you against him so he’s pressed against your center, rocking his hips to give you some friction. This time your eyes flutter shut in pleasure, the warm stretch of soaked fabric between your thighs catching on your clit with delicious effect.

“Not so shy now, are you, babygirl?” Boba hums low in your ear, gently sinking his teeth into your pulse point. “Just needed a little help from, Daddy, huh?” 

A white-hot streak of embarrassment scores through your chest, charring your fledgling sense of bravery. Your pulse throbs in your pussy. Now you have a very different reason to be shy: you’d never told him those secret desires you came to in your bed but he knew them all the same. 

“Shit, sweetheart,” he moans into your love-bitten flesh when you involuntarily buck against him. “Knew you liked me but are you really that desperate for an old man?”

“D-don’t be mean-”

You cry out when his hand presses between your bodies to cup your sex.

“Mmm I think you like it when I’m mean.” He grinds his palm against your clit and your knees buckle at the dizzying sparks of pleasure. “I also think your little cunt is dripping wet because you want to call me Daddy.”

The choked sound you make doesn’t hide the way your body reacts to his words. You shove your face into his shirt. “I never said that,” you grumble into the fabric. But you dreamed about it, worked yourself up and touched yourself to the thought of it.

“No?”

Boba retracts his hand and you almost cry from the loss. You don’t need to see his face to know he’s smirking and smug at your desperation, his teasing dominance playing on every one of your desires. Everything that burns you up only seems to fuel him more.

“No, please-”

“Aw, baby, you want it bad, don’t you?” His hand comes back up to your face and you can smell your arousal on his fingers. He tips back your chin, his thumb pressing against your trembling lips. His eyes sweep over you, taking in the way you’re as downy and vulnerable as fawn before a wolf, and they soften. 

Boba strokes your bottom lip gently, a small smile turning up his mouth. The crackle of electricity in the air dulls to a pleasant thrum. “You really are beautiful,” he breathes, his voice awed. Sensing your growing need, he presses his thumb into your mouth, his cock twitching against your stomach when you suck it happily. 

“It really isn’t too late if you want to wait,” he reminds you. He chuckles when you shake your head rapidly back and forth, this calloused thumb sliding across your tongue. Smiling, he removes his hand and rests his lips on your forehead. “It’s an honor, you know. To be the one you trust with this.”

As if it could have ever been someone else. Even before you came to Tatooine, it was never going to be anyone but Boba. You’d never had the desire to share your intimacy with another person until him.

“It was always you,” you whisper. It’s not a secret, but it is something precious. 

Boba buries his face into your hair, pressing you so tight to him you could melt into one. “I… I love you.”

Those three words hold a tender softness you know does not come easy to his surface. It fills you with a sweet kind of strength. 

Loosening your hold on his neck, you draw back far enough to take in his beautiful face. “I love you, Boba. I want this. Want you.” He radiates pure joy at your confirmation, as bright and golden as the twin suns above. Leaning in, you hover your lips just over his ear. “Now, Daddy please-”

You don’t even have time to squeal before he tosses you over his shoulder for the bedroom.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Ok, this is so fun! Congrats again!

I'll pick...Hunter (shocked, I'm sure.)

How about: "I don't think I've ever seen you smile" and "Oh, don't be cute"/"Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Thanks!!

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

Thank you @clonethirstingisreal - I hope you love this Carol, it actually brought a smile to my face as I was writing it.

Enjoy, love oo.

One Meal

Warnings: knife flipping, allusions to loss, slight angst, fluff. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Hunter flicked his knife back and forth in between his fingers, as he contemplated the next mission. Things were … different, since you joined. Not good or bad … just different. It been about six months, and yes, the Marauder was cleaner and didn’t have that lingering smell anymore, and yes, the meals had gotten better too, because you refused to just eat the ration bars the GAR provided. And … okay, it was nice to see your smiling face in the morning, compared to the miserable faces of his brothers. 

Yet, he still felt awkward around you. He wanted to laugh with you, like you could so easily with Wrecker, to have deep discussion, like you could with Tech, even philosophical discussions like you did with Echo. Hell, he’d be happy if he could just do target practice with you, like you did with Crosshair, but … every time he opened his mouth, he was curt, short tempered, and on edge. 

It wasn’t even your fault, it was just him. 

He stood from his seat, heading down the ramp and taking in a breath of fresh air. You were cooking dinner, doing your best to teach Wrecker that just because salt tasted good, didn’t mean he had to put in a whole table spoon full. 

It made him laugh a little as you tried to explain in your most patient voice possible, that you’d fix the dinner and Wrecker could go help Tech or Crosshair with something else. It was your polite way of saying ‘go away.’

Hunter tried but he couldn’t stop the smile on his lips, as he walked over to you.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile" you pointed out as he walked up to you. “What’s got you so happy?”

“Oh, I just saw how you were very tactful with Wrecker. It was funny.”

You shrugged trying to fight back your own laughter as you tried to fix the stew, by adding more water, “He tried. I’m grateful he’s willing to learn.”

“Need help? I’m not completely inept when it comes to cooking.”

You looked a little surprised when he asked, not that his offering to help was a real shock, it was the fact you realized this was the first time you two had a proper conversation. “Um … yeah, if you don’t mind using your handy dandy knife there, that you like flipping around so much, to cut up some of these veggies so I can add them, that’d be great.”

Hunter chuckled at your description, as he nodded, taking a seat and getting to work, “Where did you learn to cook?” He asked, hoping to get to know you a little better.

“My mom and grandmother. They were adamant that I learn how to feed an army if I ever needed to …” you chuckled, “I had a big family, back home. Usually there would be around twenty of us for dinner.”

“Twenty? Did you have a lot of siblings?”

“No. It was just me. But I had uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, neighbours, anyone and everyone who needed a meal could always come to our place for dinner. We never turned away anyone in need of a good meal.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was …” a sadness passed your face, as you thought back to what had once been your home, until the Separatist droid army showed up, and destroyed everything you had held so dear. 

Hunter saw your smile slip, it pained him to see that you had been through so much, although he hadn’t heard about it directly from you, he did overhear what had happened when you were talking with Tech. “Well we appreciate all your efforts, especially when you’re trying to teach us neanderthals how to cook.”

You giggled a little, pushing away the sad thoughts that had encapsulated your mind for a split second, “You’re not neanderthals.”

“We’re not exactly proper either. Couldn’t say, we’re exactly suited for a posh dinner.”

You shook your head as you laughed, “You don’t need to be suited for a posh dinner, you just need to show up to eat.” You smiled as you turned to look at him, smirking as you saw how perfectly he cut each vegetable.

You walked over and grabbed the tray of veggies, and dropped them into the stew, “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”

“Why do you take care of us? I mean granted the Marauder smells a lot better, and the meals you cook are much better than the GAR rations, but … why do you do it?”

You stirred the stew as you contemplated the question, “I guess … because you feel like family to me.” You turned to look at him, truthfully, he was the only one that you didn’t think of as family, you wanted something more with him, something special, but seeing as this was the first time you two actually talked, it might be a bit far-fetched to imagine that could possibly happen. “And, I love seeing how my food makes you guys happy. Wrecker, has the biggest smile on his face, whenever he eats when I cook. Tech has this adorable blush, although he’ll never admit how much he enjoys my cooking. And Crosshair … well he always comes back for seconds; and frankly, between you and me, he needs to eat more. He’s too skinny. I could break off his collarbone if I needed.”

“I enjoy it too,” Hunter clarified as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I might not say it, but I always look forward to your cooking.” He blushed and turned his head away, not wanting you to see how much of an effect you had on him, and not just because of your cooking. 

You laughed at his reaction, "Oh, don't be cute” you teased, “I might have to walk over there and pinch your cheeks.”

Hunter started to laugh, when he realized what you said, “Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[gloomwitchwrites]

Twin Suns

Bounty Hunter Boba Fett x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, breakup / makeup, suggestive themes, canon-typical swearing, mando’a

Word Count: 1.4k

You broke it off, but Boba isn’t finished.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // summer 2024 masterlist

Mando’a Translations: cyar’ika – darling / sweetheart

Hookah smoke hangs low in the air. The cantina is dim and the noise inside is a dull, persistent roar. Behind the bar, you clean glasses, gaze watching the room for thirsty customers. To the right of the bar is a small stage where a band plays music. It’s loud enough to drown out most of the conversations in the room but not enough to silence them.

It’s a stark difference from your previous work. Being a dancer in Jabba’s Palace brought you protection and money, but it also brought admirers. Most of them kept their distance due to Jabba’s presence, yet there was one you gravitated toward.

One you often snuck away with. One you gave your heart to.

Jabba the Hutt’s favorite contract killer, Boba Fett, ate you up like a Sarlacc. He slipped into your life and you gladly opened for him.

But all of that is gone. You left, and here you are, working away in a Mos Espa cantina, scrounging up enough credits to leave Tatooine behind you. It’s certainly not the life you want for yourself, but the best thing now is to earn enough to start fresh elsewhere.

Setting the glass in its proper spot, you turn, reaching for another. It draws your attention away from the bar, and when you glance up again, the glassware nearly slips from your hand.

A Mandalorian helmet with cracked and peeling green paint stares back. The rest of the armor is much of the same. It’s worn but no less intimidating. Boba Fett stands casually while the people next to him at the bar quickly grab their drinks and makes themselves scarce.

“I’ve been looking for you.” His familiar gravelly voice comes through the voice receiver, and it plunges directly into your heart.

“What makes you think I wanted to be looked for?” you reply, unease slipping into your tone.

You don’t hate Boba—far from it. Deep within your soul, you still care for him. When you’re alone in the dark, you often find yourself thinking of his touch and the way his lips felt against your skin.

But you ran away from everything for a reason. And still, this man came after you.

“You’ve always loved a chase, cyar’ika,” he answers with a gentle tease.

Memories resurface suddenly and without warning. Jabba’s smoky throne room where you’d dance for his guests. The saunter of Boba’s hips when he’d walk into the room and head right for you. The first time Boba touched you far from the eyes of Jabba and his cronies.

Boba chased you until you folded, placing yourself in his arms.

You swallow back a sharp retort, putting on your professional face, changing the subject. “Can I get you anything? A drink? Food?”

Boba’s helmeted head tilts slightly. “I want one thing.”

“I’m not on offer,” you reply immediately.

“Then can I have a few minutes of your time,” he counters. “Alone.”

Kriffing hell.

You glance over your shoulder at the other bartender. She nods subtly and you set down the glass and polishing towel.

“Come with me,” you murmur.

Boba pushes off from the bar and follows you. The two of you slip behind a curtain, entering a kitchen space. The three droid cooks don’t even acknowledge your presence. Stopping at some spiral stairs, you turn back toward Boba. He’s directly behind you, blocking your escape, gloved hands on either side of the railing.

“This way,” you breathe, ascending the stairs as quickly as possible.

You feel him at your back, his body so close you swear you can sense his heat. The stairs spit the two of you out on a little landing. Up here is mostly storage, and it’s a mess. The owner of the cantina insists he’ll clean it up but he’s never here enough to actually care or do anything about it.

As soon are your feet land on flat flooring, you beeline for the large window on the other side of the room. The twin suns are starting to descend, the evening coming quick, but still fending off the cold dark.

Staring out across Mos Espa is easier than looking at Boba directly.

“What do you want to talk about?” you speak to the window. In the glass, you notice Boba’s reflection. He’s moving toward you—a slow saunter.

Even though you cannot see him directly, you know he’s right there next to your left shoulder. Your chest is tight, stomach twisting, and your skin tingles with awareness. Beskar brushes against your arm, and then Boba’s gloved hand slips into your own.

You do not pull away. He is warm, and so close it aches.

“You were mine,” he says, and the possessiveness in his voice draws forth a shiver.

It’s a reminder of all the times the two of you were alone in bed together, with him buried between your legs, tangled up in white sheets while the rest of Tatooine slept. With every roll of his hips, and every languid kiss, he’d call you cyar’ika and whisper mine.

“I was,” you murmur. “Not anymore.”

Boba tugs on your hand. It’s a gentle pull but it forces you to turn into him. Boba is right there, head tilted toward your face as if to kiss you. His other hand comes up and rests against the side of your throat.

“You left without talking to me.” His grip tightens and your free hand reflexively rises, pressing against his beskar chestplate.

You lick your lips. “I needed to go. It wasn’t safe for me.”

Boba draws you close, foreheads nearly touching. “Did you not feel safe with me? Something I did?”

You shake your head. “No.” You glance into the T-shaped visor, only wanting to see those dark eyes again. “Can you remove your helmet?”

Boba drops his hand from your throat. Reaching up, he disengages the seal, and then the helmet is gone. Your eyes track tanned skin and dark eyes. Your hand on his chestplate ascends, fingertips brushing against the stubble on his chin and jaw.

Boba turns his head just as you’re about to run your fingers over his cheeks. You caress his lips instead, and they part slightly in invitation. It’s hard to resist, but you do.

Dropping your hand away, you look down at his chestplate.

“Being with you put a target on my back.”

“No one knew about us,” murmurs Boba. “And I would have handled it.”

You glance up. “Would you? I was under Jabba’s employ. I don’t think he’d appreciate one of his dancers fornicating with his prized bounty hunter.”

Boba grimaces. “You were an employee. Not one of his slaves.”

“That doesn’t matter to Jabba,” you insist. “Remember the guy who slapped my ass? Jabba took his kriffing hand. I don’t even want to think about what Jabba would do to you had he found out about us.”

“And you think you’re safe here?” Boba indicates the cantina with an outstretched hand.

“Bib Fortuna said I was clear. It’s the other bounty hunters I’m worried about. Your competition.”

Boba scoffs. “I’d vaporize them before they even tried to put their hands on you.”

You pull your hand from his and raise them up before you. “You can’t protect me, Boba. And I don’t want to burden you.”

Boba steps into your space, trapping you against the window. “But you still love me.”

“I never said I didn’t,” you reply softly.

With a low groan, Boba grasps the back of your neck and draws you in. His mouth crashes against yours, the two of you meeting again and again until you start to melt, wrapping your arms behind his neck, wanting him even closer.

“Why did you run?” he asks between kisses. You seek another but Boba’s grip on the back of your neck halts all forward movement. “We could have talked about this. You didn’t need to flee.”

“It was easier,” you breathe.

He shakes his head. “You’re leaving this place.”

“Boba,” you breathe.

“Hush,” he coos. “I’m taking you with me.”

“And go where?” you shrug.

“Somewhere safe,” he says softly. “We’ll go on my ship. And I’ll take you far from here.”

“But you can’t tell me where?”

Boba sighs. “I have a place I go to when I want to get away. I’ll take you there.”

“Jabba doesn’t need you?”

“If he needs me, Bib Fortuna will call. That’s how it’s always worked.”

You glance out the window. The suns have lowered, the sky a purplish-red. “When do you want to go?”

Boba draws you back to him, pressing a lovely kiss to your lips. “Right now.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @foxxy-126 @km-ffluv

@sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@tulipsun-flower @enfppuff @ninman82 @nomercyforthewarrior @padawancat97

@garfunklevibes2012 @pigeonmama @beebeechaos @no-oneelsebutnsu

[flightlessangelwings]

FlightlessAngelWings Kinkotber 2023 Prompt List!

Here it is, the Kinktober Prompt List!!

Compiled by myself and edited/peer reviewed/approved by my bestie @the-purity-pen who had made fantastic prompt lists in the past (and who also made the beautiful graphics for me)!! This list has a little bit of everything from more vanilla to more hardcore prompts so there’s a little something for everyone, or to branch out and try something new if you feel like it!

Write fics, make art, graphics, gifs, moodboards, whatever your heart desires!! Any type of creations are welcome too: reader insert, oc, ships, original works, anything!

Have fun and be creative!!

Below the cut are 31 days of prompts for the month of October! Each day has 3 choices with a free space day on the 31st!

Because of the nature of the event, this is 18+ ONLY! Minors interacting or participating will be blocked!

Please tag me @flightlessangelwings and use the hastag #fawktober2023 and I’ll share your works!

Please use proper warnings in your posts with this event as some of the prompts may not be for everyone. And if you’re doing a reader insert, please work to be inclusive of your writing/art!

No kinkshaming please! I made this list to be varied so there may be things on here you hate. That’s ok! There’s things here that even I don’t like but I designed it that way so there’s something for everyone! But that’s also why tags and warnings are so important!!

Reblog this post so others and find this list and to share the fun!! And don’t forget to reblog other people’s work too throughout October and support each other!!

If none of the prompts for the day speak to you, feel free to pull from another day if you want! Don’t feel pressured at all! Have fun with it!!

List under the cut in graphic and text format!

Banner free to use for your posts with credit to @the-purity-pen 💖

Both dividers by the lovely @saradika ❤️

Love bites * Overstimulation * Impact play

Bath/shower * Public * Knife play

69 * Exhibitionism * Monster au

Thigh riding * Sex pollen * Forced orgasm

Table sex * Threesome * Sensory deprivation

Sexting/phone sex * A/B/O * Bondage

Slow and soft * Partner swap * Spanking

Cockwarming * Temperature play * Rough sex

Role play * Pegging * Hunter/prey

Stripping * Anal * Double penetration

Seduction * Blindfold * Degradation

Formal wear * Glove kink * Gun play

Body worship * Being recorded * Anonymous sex

Tit/nipple play * Object insertion * BDSM

Against a wall * Size kink * Free use

Lap dance * Role reversal * Whipping

Praise kink * Rimming * Tentacles

Masturbation * Squirting * Dacryphilia (crying/emotional release)

Hand job * Voyeurism  * Somnophilia

Sex toys * Orgy/group * Corruption

Romantic sex * Piercings * Hate sex

Voice kink * Virginity * Fisting

Dirty talk * Begging * CNC

Lingerie * Edging * Leather/latex

Mirror sex * Orgasm denial * Breeding

Face sitting * Deep throating * Choking

Food play * Period sex * Wax play

Blowjobs * Intercrural sex * Cock rings

Fingering * Cream pie * Gagging

Cunnilingus * Costumes * Breath play

FREE SPACE

[acatalystrising]

I had to make it. Had to.

I mean…🥰🫠