#anyway boba fett Hot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

maybege · 6 months

Text

Pleasure

Summary: You get dared by your old school friends to ask a stranger to play with your tits.

Pairing: dad’s friend!Boba Fett x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4.1k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, older man/younger woman, implied age gap, alcohol consumption, sex with strangers, coming untouched, semi-public intimacy, dom!Boba, sub!Reader, nipple play, dirty talk, little bit of humiliation, Reader is not described but it is mentioned that she does not wear a bra at some point

Alrighty, alrighty. Okay, alright. Are we ready? Like are we really, truly, ready for this? This is obviously set in the dad’s friend!Boba AU which is more of a sandbox AU for me to play in. This is their first meeting (obv) and it is based on another idea I had and I thought it would fit perfectly. Please do let me know what you think and if you like it and if so, what you liked and all that good stuff! Maybe I will write another part or another story set in this AU.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

A year ago, you had never thought you would drown your sorrows at a house party of a person whose name you did not even know in the town you had grown up in with people you had not seen since high school. But here you were, drowning out your disappointment, your sadness and your frustration by the way of loud techno beats and unnaturally coloured alcohol.

“All right,” Marissa passed the hot pink shots she had gotten to you and Chants, though her eyes did not leave yours, “You want a dare?”

For a second you regretted ever having asked her for a dare (“Something to liven up the party,” you had said half-jokingly after the conversation with your two oldest high school friends had come to an awkwardly silent end) but then you also remembered the fun time you had with them in your childhood bedroom, prank calling the neighbours before playing fuck marry killer with the seniors at school.

That was an eternity ago now but it had all seemed to light then. Your happiness did not have an expiration date then and the dream to make it out of your small town by the lake and into the big cities of the opposite coast had kept you company every night.

You hadn’t known yet that your dream would fail.

“Ask any random person here to play with your tits.”

Her voice pulled you out of your thoughts and your face must have shown your shock at the task because her pink-coloured lips (a perfect match to her equally pink hair) pulled up in a mischievous grin. Marissa always had been the joker of your group, you should have known better than to think that the years would have changed anything about that.

“Marissa!” Chants gasped, “You can’t do that!”

“Oh, calm down,” she waved him off, “It’s not like she has to do it. But we're in a house full of strangers and stars know it's been ages since you got laid” – you hated how right she was about that – “So let’s not pretend like I'm not doing you a favour.”

“I’ll do it,” you heard yourself say, steel in your voice as you threw back the sickly sweet drink. There was nothing worse than the artificial strawberry flavour.

“It’s not like I know anyone here anyway,” you stated, looking around the giant living room you were standing in. The villa (because there was no other word to describe the building you were in) was absolutely packed with what seemed to be the entire party population of your town and the few surrounding beach towns as well. It was all stark white walls and cement floors and floor-length windows and furniture that looked more like art than actually something to sit on. Only the colourful lights and (several) mirror balls hued the entire space in ever-changing colours.

No wonder whoever lived here threw all these parties. The place must seem pretty depressing otherwise.

With encouraging whoop whoop!s and You can do it!s you left Marissa and Chants behind and wandered through the dancing, yelling, drinking crowd that took up the entire ground floor. Until you spotted a figure leaning against one of the doorways to the stairway.

Your feet changed your course until you stood in front of him. He was older than you, though certainly not the oldest guest in attendance. (That would be Chants’ 94-year-old grandmother who had a reputation for attending the best raves in the province.)

But what struck you most was how unbothered he looked. How in control. He was dressed in dark pants and a black button-up, his sleeves were rolled up too, revealing strong veiny forearms that had your eyes lingering longer than they should have. He held a glass in his hand and when his eyes landed on you, making your way towards him, you imagined that his grip twitched just the slightest bit.

“Hi,” you said when you finally stood in front of him.

The main raised his eyebrows, “You lost there?”

You pressed your shoulders back, “No. You are the one

His lips lifted in a smirk and it took our breath away for a moment, how handsome he was, and your courage faltered. But you

“My friend dared me to ask someone to play with my tits.”

If your words caught him off guard, the man did not show it.

“So?” he smiled before taking a sip from the amber liquid, “That wasn’t a question.”

Was he really going to make you say it? Your ears burned with shame and something else as you looked at him. But he simply cocked his head as if to say I am waiting. And you somehow found that this was not a man you wanted to leave waiting.

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “Will you play with my tits?”

“No,” he said easily and finished his drink, “Congratulations, your dare is fulfilled.”

He turned to leave and you surprised yourself when your hand landed on his thick arm. He froze, as did you, and when his eyes met yours, it felt like a switch flipped in your head.

“No, wait, I –“ you paused, “I actually want it.”

His body faced yours again and stars was he broad as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Stars what are you doing, trying to convince a man to touch you.”

“Ask me again, then, little one,” he rumbled and the pet name had your belly fluttering. Though maybe it was not your belly, maybe it was something else …

“Will you play with my tits, please?” you added the last word quietly, your pulse thrumming as you avoided his eyes. The bass reverberated in your chest and you tried to even out your breathing. This was fine. Everything was fine.

For the first time since you started talking, his eyes left your face and roamed down your body. Over your tight jeans and the loose but not quite opaque top you had chosen to wear. You found yourself wanting to impress him, wanting to please him and you were almost completely sure he would reject you again when he opened his mouth.

“You really want that?”

You nodded, too shy, too embarrassed to say anything more. It had been ages since you had been touched and something about the way he held himself made you feel like he knew how to touch you.

“Good,” he rumbled, his voice dropping even lower and causing a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You watched as he set his glass down on the side table, “But not here out in the open.”

“No,” you shook your head, agreeing with him, though you were a little scared to admit that you would have let him. You would have let him pull you into a corner somewhere and strip you down to nothing and do anything he wanted to you. You would have let him expose you however he saw fit.

Stars, I really need to get laid.

The man brought his hand around you, settling it on your lower back as he led you away from the improvised dance floor. There were throngs of people everywhere but they grew sparser the higher up the stairs he led you. Until you arrived in a hallway that was completely abandoned save for a couple that seemed too busy to make out to notice you. And then he continues, leading you around a corner and suddenly you were alone and the lights were dim and the music only a muted sound in the background.

“Do you live here?” you asked, nervously looking around. What if someone caught you?

“No,” he said, his voice calm as his hand landed on your hip, “but I know the owner. No one will disturb us here.”

You nodded and took another deep breath. That sounded good. That sounded safe.

“Do you still want this?

It but you were grateful. You nodded, your heart racing. And your pussy too.

“I need to hear words, little one,” he said with a crooked smile, still not touching you save for the hand on your hip that seemed to burn through the layers of clothes.

“Yes, I still want this.”

“Want what?”

Oh, now he was just teasing you!

“I want you to play with my tits, please.”

Shame and arousal had your cheeks burning but it was worth it when he hummed, his hand inching under the hem of your shirt. “Good girl.”

Oh.

Oh, that was new. That was lovely. That was something that had your eyes flutter and your pussy get surprisingly wet.

“You liked that,” he grunted, “You like praise.”

It was not a question and so you did not answer. The wet patch in your panties that grew by the second was answer enough. Though you could not shake the feeling that he liked you liking praise. Which made it all the better.

“Lift your shirt for me,” he instructed, tongue running over his lips, “You wear a bra?”

You nodded, your hands trembling as you lifted the soft fabric of your favourite going-out blouse. It was black and just the lightest bit sheer and breezy which made it the perfect sexy thing to wear in the warmer temperatures. The air wasn’t cold – it was the height of summer after all – but your nipples pebbled, still, beneath the lace of your bra.

Big hands reached for your tits, cupping them in his palms before lightly squeezing. His touches were softer, first, before they grew firm and had you squirming against the wall. Your breath got quicker already as you thought about the fact that you did not even know this man and he had you half-naked in the corridor of another stranger’s home.

A year ago, you never would have done something like that.

“Wh-What are you doing?” you whined when he still only squeezed your tits, his fingers gently digging into the soft flesh, “Why aren’t you touching me?”

“You asked me to play with your tits,” he replied steadily, his thumb rubbing over the lace that covered your nipple, “That is exactly what I am doing. Playing with your pretty tits.”

“Don’t you want me to take off my shirt?” you asked, confusion clear in your voice as you tried to shift your hands over your shoulders.

“Nah, little one,” he shook his head, a smile on his lips that made your breath hitch, “You are going to hold up your shirt for me. You want me to play with your tits, you got to do something for that, right?”

You nodded, chest heaving as you leaned your head back against the wall. “Right.”

The older man continued his ministrations, gently massaging your tits, pushing and pulling, making them bounce, teasing your nipples through the lace with the pads of his thumbs or his blunt fingernails. You had never been this turned on in your life.

His finger teased under the scalloped edge of your bra, the touch of his bare skin on yours driving you insane.

When he finally pulled down the cups of your bra, baring you to his eyes, you could have wept from relief. “Arch your back for me,” he murmured, sounding so focused and so in control. You did, doing your best to get your chest closer to his hands.

There was no shame now, now apprehension about what you were doing. This man seemed to know exactly what he was doing and you could not help but trust him.

“You have beautiful tits, you know that?” he asked casually as his fingers rolled your nipples, sending little pangs of pleasure through your entire body, “When was the last time somebody properly paid attention to you, hm?”

Too long ago.

And that was what you told him but he pulled your nipples sharply, “Specifics,” he instructed you lowly as you tried to keep your knees from buckling at the sheer sensation this man caused in you.

“Few – few months,” you tried to think feverishly, “Se-seven months. No, nine months.”

“Nine months,” he tsked, his thumb flicking over your pebbled nipple, “What a shame. What a waste. You deserve to have

Not knowing what to say to that, you simply leant into his touch. He expertly rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger before pulling on it ever so slightly, making you whimper. The mix of gentle and rough had you dizzy and wet and you swore none of your eyes had ever made you feel this way.

Stars you did not even know you could feel this way.

“Can I use my mouth on you?” he asked.

Your eyes flew open and you looked at him in surprise. But the older man simply returned your gaze, never pausing in his ministrations and he seemed serious in his questions. He really wanted to touch you more.

“Yes, please,” you nodded feebly, as if the way you were melting in his hands was not answer enough.

“Good girl,” he praised you again, a smirk on his face, “So polite.”

You squirmed, pressing your thighs together to get some sort of friction to your aching clit. He lowered his head to your chest, his warm breath washing over your skin and you whined, needing him more and more. But he did not let himself be rushed, no. His finger pulled on your nipple again until your whine turned into a gasp. Only then did he let you go and carefully closed his mouth around you. He sucked on you, ever so gently, with just a hint of teeth scraping over the sensitive flesh and you swore your vision went white for just a moment.

He must have noticed the way your entire body spasmed just for him because he pulled away, a glint in his eyes that told you he was far from done with you.

“I wonder if I can make you come just from this,” he murmured against your chest, “Just playing with you until your gorgeous pussy drips all on her own,” he lightly sucked on your nipple, “You want me to try?”

Speaking seemed like the last thing you would be capable of so you nodded, your heavy breaths echoing in the dark hallway.

“Answer me with words, little one,” he admonished you, pinching your nipple tightly and another wave of wetness rushed down your legs. You wouldn’t be able to sit down anywhere today without leaving a wet patch, that was for sure.

“Yes,” you gasped out, “Please make me come.”

“With pleasure,” he grinned, “You just lean back and keep holding up your shirt for me, yeah? I will take care of the rest.”

And he did. He licked and sucked and pinched until you were a dripping, moaning mess. Your hips had a mind of their own as you started to move against him, trying to grind against the considerable bulge in his pants that had your mouth watering, but his hand was strong on your hip, pinning you back against the wall.

“You are going to come only from this,” he instructed darkly and you nodded. The yes sir almost slipping out of you. You felt like you were on cloud nine, floating above everyone and everything. The dim light, the loud bass that echoed throughout the house, hell, even the sound of partying people two stories below – it all added to the thrill of this stranger sucking on your tit while rolling your other nipple between his fingers.

It felt like you could not breathe, like your whole body was pulled taut with pleasure and he was the only one who could release you. Who could give you release.

“You are such a good girl for me,” he grunted in your ear, “I wish you could see yourself. Absolutely depraved right now. Presenting your tits for a man you don’t know anything about except that he is the one that is going to make you come.”

“I know you would have let me do this downstairs, too,” he added, “But here's the thing: I don’t share. And I don’t think any of these boys even deserve the sight of your pretty tits like this, now, do they?”

You shook your head. “Only you,” you mumbled feverishly, your fingers tightening their grip on the fabric, “Only you, sir.”

His groan was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. “That’s right,” he pressed a hard kiss against your neck, “Only I see you like this. Only I get to see how pretty you look when you come from this.”

For a moment, you debated telling him that you did not think you would come. That you were so turned on – more than ever before – and that what he did felt great but you were not sure if it would actually make you come. But then he bit down on your nipple and pulled the other one and your whole world reeled.

You came. You actually came.

And you did not stop coming for what felt like a solid two minutes. You were shaking, gasping, and at some point, you must have let go of your shirt because you were gripping his broad shoulders with all of your might as if they anchored you to gravity.

“Holy shit,” you brought out when you finally regained control of everything, “Holy fucking shit.”

The stranger had let go of your tits. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a hug. Strange enough, this felt way more intimate than what you had done before but you could not bring yourself to worry. Not when he smelled so good and the post-orgasm fatigue set in.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised you, his eyes soft and warm as he looked you over, “Are you feeling okay?”

You nodded weakly and he pressed a kiss to your cheek before pulling away. You were still completely out of breath and your pussy pulsed when you saw him adjusting himself in his slacks. You wanted to touch him.

You wanted to be touched by him.

But you were scared, too. Shocked, mostly. At what you had just done. Had you really let a stranger just make you come in a house full of people?

“Let's get you some water,” he murmured as he helped you straighten out your clothes, “And then off to your friends you go.”

You nodded numbly, legs shaking and still unsteady on your feet. But he helped you, one hand on your lower back and the other supporting your arm as you made your way down the stairs. The louder the music got, the more you felt like you had just returned to reality from some sort of dream. Some perfect, delicious, very hot dream.

Returning to the living room turned dance floor, neither of you spoke and you simply accepted the glass of cool water he got you. “Drink it,” he instructed you softly, “And make sure you get home safe tonight.”

When you found Marissa and Chants again, you were still torn between pure shock at what you had just done and grief at not having asked him for his name.

Your nipples were sore the next day but you still would have done anything to have that man play with you again. Maybe you could have asked him to spend the night at his place, letting him fuck you seven ways ‘till Sunday. If he had made you come this hard just from playing with your chest, you wanted to find out what he could do if he had you all to himself for a whole night.

Still, you stayed in bed until well past noon, trying to avoid the reality that had seemed to be suspended for just a moment last night.

It was unlike you and, to be honest, you were a little scared of your forwardness. Of your courage. But it had been rewarded in the best ways and finally, it felt like maybe you really could start fresh. Like maybe this was the moment you needed to gain back the trust in yourself.

You could do things!

You did not have to have everything figured out right now, you just needed the courage to somehow move forward.

And if you could ask a stranger for intimacy at a party, then moving forward seemed like no effort at all.

You skipped a bra, not wanting to subject your chest to more sensation than necessary, and instead opted for a long flowy summer dress and a light cardigan over top. It would give you some coverage, still, so it would not be awkward for your sister’s fiancée to face you.

Looking in the mirror, you felt like your new self. Like maybe you had needed yesterday to get back some of your courage, some of the spirit that had made the past year so fun before everything had just crumbled around you.

“Oh honey, there you are,” your mother greeted you as you came down the stairs, “You came home late last night. Was it a good party, then?”

You knew she was worried and you knew she tried her best to give you the privacy you needed. After all, you weren’t a child anymore. You were a grown woman who had to move back to her parents across the country after losing her job. It was an unfamiliar situation for you all and you appreciated her effort at making you feel like a roommate more than a child.

“It was,” you replied, grabbing a slice of fruit, “It was nice seeing some people from school again. It is like nothing changed.”

“Oh, you and your change,” she tutted good-naturedly, swatting your hand away as you reached for another slice of orange, “That’s for after lunch. It's almost ready.”

You glanced at the clock. “That’s early.”

“Your father has some friends over,” she explained, “From work. They’re going golfing this afternoon so I thought that is the perfect opportunity for an early lunch.”

Thank the stars for your father and his friends because you were starving.

“Go and say hi, honey,” she shooed you out of the kitchen and you smiled, your bare feet hitting the cold tiles of the hallway, “And you can tell them to set the table.”

You found your dad and his friends on the patio, soaking up the warm summer air.

“There you are, hon,” he greeted you with a smile and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hi, dad. Mom says lunch’s almost ready.”

“Ah,” he slapped his palms on his thighs before standing up, “You know what that means, boys! Time to set the table.”

One of your dad’s friends stood up. George, you remembered. He had lived down the street ever since you could remember and his kids were good friends with your sister. “It's been ages,” he said, a genuine smile on his face. “Look at how you’ve grown!”

You were pretty sure you hadn’t changed that much since graduating college but you were not about to correct him. He meant well, you knew.

Your father paused, “Oh I am sorry. Everyone, this is my eldest daughter, fresh back from the other end of the world.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not the end of the world,” you corrected him gently, “Just the other side of the country.”

And what wouldn’t you give to be back there right now.

The men all chuckled and you paused when you heard a familiar voice. You ran your eyes over the mostly familiar faces, faces you had known since childhood or at least from the pictures your parents posted regularly on Facebook. Faintly you could hear your dad introduce them all again – George from accounting, of course, then there was Paul and Obi-Wan and James (an absolute perv as you and your sister had determined years ago) and not to forget Bail Organa.

But it was the newest face, the face that was supposed to be unfamiliar, that made your heart freeze for a scary few seconds before it started racing so fast you thought you might throw up.

“Boba Fett,” he said, holding out an all too familiar hand. A hand that had spent considerable time playing with your tits just last night.

“Boba is the CFO after the merger,” your dad introduced the man, “Recently moved here from – where was it again, Boba?”

“Tatooine,” he replied without taking his eyes off you.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you heard yourself say, his hand closing around yours. His grip was gentle but firm. And warm. You could feel the callouses on his fingertips, the ones that had made him playing with you so fucking delicious. Your nipples hardened under the soft fabric of your dress and you prayed that he did not notice.

“Believe me,” he smiled, though his eyes said so much more than the usual pleasantries when they fell to your chest for a fraction of a second, “The pleasure is all mine.”

#maybege writes #boba fett x reader #boba fett x fem!reader #smut

202 notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 5 months

Note

Boba Fett w gun play? I feel like he’d definitely appreciate a reader who knows his way around a blaster haha.

Boba Fett x male reader

headcanons

I can imagine Boba likes a partner who knows their way around any weapon. This is bounty hunter Boba, before he ends up in the sarlacc. I just think Boba being so turned on by his partner being dangerous is so Mandalorian.

You were a fellow bounty hunter, your specialty was force users and the highly skilled. This didn’t mean you just hunted Jedi, but all force users, and by God were you good at it.

You and Boba met when put on the same bounty, some extremely skilled warlord that ruled an entire cluster of planets. Working together you guys were able to take him down, and Boba got the first glance of how skilled you were with a blaster.

After that you two became allies, then friends, and then lovers. It was a slow process, as bounty hunters don’t trust easy, especially other bounty hunters. But Boba was younger at the time, and cockier than he is in the future, so he doesn’t give up.

Even before you guys started dating, seeing you fight always left him feeling heated and hot blooded, his codpiece fitting uncomfortably with how hard it made him to see you flip your blaster in and out of its holster and switch to a different weapon.

He knew he was head over heels when you pointed a blaster in one of the gaps in his armor, digging it into his flightsuit and leaving a mark, threatening to kill him right then and there. And instead of fear, he felt like he was gonna burst inside his flightsuit.

It was better than any adult entertainment for Boba to see you cleaning your blasters. To see you take them apart piece by piece, clean them up, and click it back together again, always had him panting to himself.

It takes a bit for you to realize just what kind of effect you have on Boba. Because of his cockier attitude and just being younger than he is in the Mandalorian series, hes got a higher drive and is more grabby.

It’s not unusual for Boba to come up behind you and squeeze your hips and ass, or for him to say all kinds of dirty things over comms during bounties. But he is especially twitchy and antsy when you show off.

It hits you just how much he likes it when he walks into your shared room to see you sitting there in nothing but your boxers, trying to fix a jam in one of your blasters, and he turns right on his heel to march into the fresher to get off.

Even when he comes back out of the fresher without his armor, he still stares a little too intensely when you finally fix the blaster. If he hadn’t just gotten off, Boba would probably have popped a stiffy again.

From then on you start to show off on purpose, using a blaster when you don’t actually need too, or maybe handling your weapons a little more lewdly.

Like, theres no reason for you to lick one of your knives, or use spit to clean up a spot on your blaster, but you do it anyways, just to see Boba start shuffling around, trying to be subtle about how hard it makes him.

Boba would realize you had him figured out pretty damn fast, because you make a habit out of staring him in the eyes when you are cleaning up the barrel of your blasters with a rag, making sure it gets real clean and shiny.

Neither of you really say anything, and maybe that’s a problem that comes with you both being younger adrenaline hungry bounty hunters, as you guys don’t discuss kink a whole lot either.

One day when you guys are getting steamy, nothing too extreme, just Boba pressed up against the wall, his codpiece off, and flight suit opened, one of your hands twisting and jerking his length, you put your blaster into the mix.

With your other hand, you press the cold barrel of the blaster against his cock, making Boba’s eyes shoot open and immediately look down, his noises growing louder and hungrier, his hips twitching, and pupils blown huge.

He ends up cumming all over your blaster, which you just tsk about and complain about, but you both know its just all for show.

Sometimes to make Boba more desperate, you don’t even have to use the blaster in any way. It just being visible on your belt as him awake and aware, you pretty much pavlov him to get a stiffy when you walk around in little clothes and your blaster on you.

One of Boba’s favorite things you do, is when you make him hold your blaster in his mouth. The safety is always on of course, and its never actually turned on, but it always has his eyes rolling and his cock dripping.

You probably end up with a blaster just for this, since you can’t let Boba slobber all over your actually good blasters, since it could ruin the technology. It is pretty hot to see him flatting his tongue around the barrel like he’s sucking you off though, so sometimes you’ll use your favorite blaster on him.

When he’s older, after the sarlacc, he still has a thing for blasters, and just weapons in general. If you end up allowed to use a garderffii stick by the Tuskens, it gets him as hot and bothered as your blasters used to do in your younger years.

109 notes · View notes

vanossfan10 · 4 months

Text

RWBY: Jaune Arc Mandalorian AU: Jaune’s Starfighter

**During the last Two Years at Beacon, Jaune and his friends all got along he managed to have a very loving relationship with Yang and the two Teams became power houses after their first year, but on one night they played Truth or Dare Jaune Revealed in a Truth he has a Starfighter to help him go earn some cash from bounties in space given to him by his Bounty Hunter Mentor; Boba Fett.**

(Night of the ToD game night)

Ruby: BULLSHIT! I call BULL!! SHIT!!

Yang: Ruby! Language! I’m sure Jaune is just joking

Jaune: who said I was?

Yang:…huh?!….

Teams RWBY & (J)NPR: ………EEEEHHHH!?!?!……

They all yelled in shock and saw that he wasn’t joking at all.

**The very next morning he took Team RWBY and his own team down to Ozpin private landing bay for Beacon where bullhead ships were kept, they all soon saw a ship that was covered in a large grey tarp and once they walked over to it Jaune grabbed the tarp and revealed his Starfighter.**

Ruby:…oh wow…(eyes shine and she begins to drool)…

Weiss: mhm this is quite a spectacle~

Blake: I mean I’ve read these in science fiction books but never thought I’d see one in person

Yang: that’s fucking hot babe~💕

Pyrrha: Jaune you always continue to surprise us

Nora: I WANNA RIDE IT! I WANNA RIDE IT! I WANNA RIDE IT! AND I WANNA BLOW STUFF UP WITH IT!!!

Ren: Nora No! (He said trying to hold her back)

Nora: NORA YES!!

Jaune: I’ll think about it Nora, anyway this is my Eta-2 Actis-class light interceptor, years ago it was originally made for a old warrior race of people known as Jedi but they all went extinct and are only a few left in the Galaxy, as from what my mentor told me when he got this for me

Blake: your mentor got you this?

Jaune: yeah it was a gift after I completed my training, but despite it all I wear his family crest on it to show my thanks to him and to honor my mentor

**Suddenly Weiss interrupted**

Weiss: if that’s so, what’s this art piece supposed to indicate mhm~

**she said in a teasing tone as they all looked at the side of Jaune’s Starfighter wing and saw a pin up spray paint art piece of Yang**

youtube

**everyone looked at the pin up with blushes, some covered their mouths and some looked at Jaune with a cheeky smirk, but Yang mostly was looking at it in embarrassment but also a little bit happy on the inside seeing Jaune still thinking of her when he’s away**

Yang: J-Jaune WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?!

Jaune: now Yang come on I can explain

Nora: so fearless leader got a sexy mascot to show off to the galaxy huh

Jaune: NORA!

Pyrrha: my goodness Jaune I didn’t think you’d do that and by yangs reaction you didn’t even get her permission, how deviant of you

Jaune: Pyrrha it’s not what y-

Yang: how could you Jaune! (She said blushing harder)

Jaune: Yang please it is just a pi

Yang: how could you get my Signature Wrong!!

RWB(Y) & JNPR:…….Huh???

**they all said in confusion**

Yang: if you wanted me to be your pin up you should have had me sign it!

Jaune:…..umm…ok I’m sorry?….I guess?

Yang: good but I’ll forgive you under one condition

Jaune: what?

Yang: if you take me for a ride in it first before everyone else

**she said tapping her fingers together and making a pouty face along while doing it**

Jaune: (Giggles) sure thing babe

**he said as he pulls her in for a kiss and her soon accepted his apology from the kiss and his promise**

Nora: can I blow up a Cabbage Stand with it now!

Ren: why a Cabbage Stand?!

Blake: you really wanna ask her that question Ren?

Nora: Well my beautiful Ren Ren, it’s because in every universe there is a Cabbage man who yells “No! My Cabbages!!” It’s a universal thing Ren Ren~💕

Ren: What?

Nora: I WANNA BLOW SHIT UP!!

Ruby: ME TOO!! I WANNA BLOW SHIT UP!!

Ren: NORA NO!!!

Yang: RUBY LANGUAGE!!

Fin

69 notes · View notes

daimyosprincess · 1 year

Text

PART III: DEDICATION

—PARING: Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

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

—SUMMARY: Professor Fett makes good on his promise to give you everything you deserve.

—WORD COUNT: 8.6k

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, professor!Boba, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is mid-twenties and Boba is late forties), reader described as having enough hair to grab, Dom/sub power dynamics (Dom!Boba and sub!reader), BDSM elements, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl) (also I’ve decided this AU includes safe, effective birth control since we’re fantasizing anyways), use of restraints (reader's hands are bound), dirty talk, lots of pet names, lots of praise, some more self-discovery

As always, let me know if I missed anything that needs to be tagged! Mando'a translations at the end.

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is 8.6k words of pure smut to make up for Part II's cliffhanger 😈 We’re seeing a softer side of both Boba and the reader in Parts II and III as they establish and build their trust in one another. But fret not, their regularly scheduled banter will be back in Part IV! A big thank you to @rexxdjarin and @agirlnamejacq for betaing, and thank you my beautiful readers for your all support and feedback 💖

Read on AO3 — Series Masterlist — Taglist

“Are you ready, pretty girl? Can I make you feel good now, give you your reward?”

“Please, Boba, please. I want you, I want you more than anything.”

“You have me, princess, I’m all yours.”

Maybe heaven is a place on earth or maybe it’s a place spun in the stars, but either way, it’s got to be wherever he is. Wherever the warm passion of his lips kissing all of you that came into his reach as he slipped your dress from your shoulders. Wherever his large, battle-worn hands traced over your body from head to toe in reverential worship as he laid you out on his bed. Wherever the solid breadth of his shoulders stood between your thighs as he parted them with promises of anything and everything the universe has to offer.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful… so soft and perfect. I want you to keep your arms up, sweetheart. Can you do that for me? Keep your hands up over your head?”

“I can’t touch you? I want to touch you.”

“All in good time, little one. Now be a good girl and do as you’re told.”

“Yes, s-sir.”

Spread over his luxurious sheets that smelled of him with your legs open and arms above your head, bare except for the soaked lace covering your center, you’re sure wherever heaven is, Boba Fett is there. Because heaven is only heaven if there’s hell to heat it. After kissing his way down your body inch by tender inch, he’s settled between your trembling thighs, his expression devout as sin as his gaze scrapes up your nearly naked body to find your hungry eyes. His tongue slips out from between his kiss-swollen lips and your stomach constricts almost painfully in anticipation, only for him to run it over his lips and retract it.

A small whine sounds in the back of your throat and he grins, planting wet kisses everywhere but your center. You’re swimming in rapids of your desire, unable to gain a footing in the torrid wash of it.

Boba chuckles deep and warm and you can almost feel the vibrations in your cunt. “Use your words, little one, tell me what you want… let me hear it and I promise I'll lick up that pussy so good.” His syrupy words are so hot and surgery they’re going to make you melt right through the mattress straight to flames below.

You huff, throwing your head back and bunching the sheets between your fingers. “I thought this was supposed to be my reward.” You want it, you want him, and you know he’s got to be painfully hard by the way he’s grinding into the mattress. You’re wound up and impatient with want, chafing at the constraints he’s set. Why won’t he just do it already?

Boba sinks his fingers deeper into your thighs, massaging the tension held there. “It is, princess, but you’re still fighting it. Let go.”

You huff again, unable to pinpoint what you’re doing wrong. “I am,” you insist, desperate distress running through your words, “I’m keeping my arms up and being polite and-”

“Shhh shhh,” he soothes, “I know, and you’re being so good for me.” He peppers little kisses across your thigh that make you tingle and sparkle. “But that’s not what I mean. You have to get out of that pretty head of yours.”

You groan in frustration—you don’t know what that means or how to do it. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you look down at the man of your wildest fantasies inches away from where you want him most; it takes every atom in your body to resist putting his mouth right where you want it so you can just forget about everything instead. Rule number two, respect myself… that means asking questions when I’m confused.

“Can you tell me how to… you know… do that?” you ask haltingly, biting down on your lip to stem the tide of uncomfortable insecurity rising up within you. You’re not used to feeling unsure and you don’t want to disappoint him by not being able to do something as simple as “letting go.”

The smile that beams from his face dissipates your fog of doubt. “That’s my smart girl, following the rules so well,” he praises in his deep timbre, and you glow in the shine of his praise. As if he can read your mind, he adds gently, “Never feel ashamed to ask questions, princess, there’s no shame here. I like that you trust me to show you all these new things, and asking questions lets me know you’re minding the rules and listening to your body.”

Your shoulders hunch, your gaze dropping to your chest. “But don’t they kind of… ruin the moment?”

“Little one, the moment’s not worth it if you aren't enjoying yourself,” he answers gently.

Your head jerks up, your eyes scrabbling to find his. He’s so patient and safe it makes your heart feel impossibly full, so full it might even burst into stardust. You don’t catch your hands before they’re reaching for him, pulling his face to come to yours. Chuckling, he obliges you, shifting himself up the mattress so his lips can meet yours. Mid-kiss you realize your mistake and drop your hands back behind you, ducking your head. “Sorry,” you mumble against his lips, “Forgot my hands.”

He smiles, placing a last kiss on your lips before pulling back to look at you. His dark eyes flick over you briefly, then a satisfied look comes across his face as if he’s come to a decision that pleases him. “I think I know something that might help.” He pushes up from the bed and pads across the room to his closet, stepping in and rustling around for a bit. A minute later, he emerges with something folded in his hands.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he beckons you over and you curl into his lap, once again content with his heat against your skin, even if it’s through his clothes. Boba opens his palms, revealing a length of buttery smooth, black silky fabric about two inches wide. You run the tips of your fingers over the luxe material, noting the way it feels like cool water under your touch, and he lets it pool in your hands for your further examination.

Snaking an arm around your waist, Boba pulls you tight against him, his other hand coming to rest just above your knee. “We can talk normally right now, princess, since we’re taking a break.” You hum an affirmative and he continues, “I think you’re having trouble because you’re fighting the physical feeling of letting go even if mentally you’ve decided that’s what you want. That can feel a little scary, yeah?” You bob your head in agreement where it rests on his shoulder. “And I'm thinking you always had to make sure your pleasure was also taken care of before. Does that sound right?”

You nod. While you had enjoyed the sex you’d had in the past—you only gave if you got—there was always the lingering possibility that you would be left unsatisfied if you didn’t maintain enough control to chase your own release.

A knowing grumble sounds in his throat. “I thought so. Doesn’t help you’re a stubborn little thing who likes to raise hell every step of the way, either,” he pokes, giving you a playful squeeze.

You giggle, twisting to press kisses on his jaw. “You like it.”

You can feel him smile at your assertion, a sound of agreement rumbling in his chest. “I want to take my time with you, little one, and I want you to be able to enjoy it as much as I do. Usually I would wait to introduce something like this until a little later since this is all new to you, but I think this,” he pauses, tapping a finger on the black satin, “will help.”

“To get you out of your head, you need something to fight against and ground you, something that makes you realize you're safe but that there’s no escaping… that the only option is to let whatever is going to happen, happen. That’s what letting go is. I’ll decide what you feel, when you feel it, how… all you have to do is let it happen because I’m going to take care of you and I’m going to make sure you feel amazing. How’s that sound, pretty girl?”

The image he paints in your mind has you squirming in his lap. It sounds fantastic, if only your brain could get the memo and relax so Boba could whisk you off to pleasures unknown. You tell him so, asking about the black fabric in your hands. A molten heat creeps down your spine at the thought of that silky smooth material circling around your limbs, holding you fast to his will; if you’re honest with yourself, you’re surprised by how turned on the thought of being bound by the professor makes you.

A few minutes later, Boba is doing just as he described: looping the binding around your wrists with expert knots to the hidden clip on the headboard, carefully explaining how the way he’s tying you makes sure the knots can’t get too tight around your arms and hurt you. You’re giddy with excitement and it makes you want to wiggle and tease him while he works; he’s so close and you can see how hard he is through his pants. Your desire for him to know you’re listening and that you appreciate the care he’s taking with your comfort keeps you in check, however.

The more you think about his plan while he works—to tie your hands up over your head and have you keep your eyes closed while he takes what he wants from you with his tongue—the wetter and more impatient you get. You won’t be able to stop him from devouring you all tied up, you wouldn’t be able to wriggle free from his strong grip or even anticipate his next move with your eyes screwed shut because he’d stop if you opened your eyes. You’re going to be prey at the mercy of a predator who has every intention of eating you alive… and you have every intention of letting him do it.

“Are you ready, little one?” Boba asks from the end of the bed where he’s admiring his handiwork, his gaze lingering on the black bindings, your eyes, your tits. You pout when you realize he isn't exposing any more of himself, keeping his body hidden from you. Noting your displeasure, he cocks his head at you. “What’s that look for?”

“I want your clothes off,” you whine, hoping the pitiful pitch of your voice will convince him to strip down. You’ve been dreaming of what he looks underneath all those expensive clothes, how the roll of his impossibly broad shoulders would flex every muscle down his back in salacious exertion, or how his thick thighs would tense and shiver when you scrape your nails up them while you took him down your throat.

He huffs in amusement, shaking his head. “I make those decisions, sweetheart.”

“Can I at least have your shirt off so I can feel that it’s you?”

That catches him by surprise, his confident swagger slacking for a heartbeat before returning. “Will that make it easier for you or are you just being impatient?” he asks, his tone deliberate. “Remember to tell me the truth, that’s a rule.”

“Easier for me,” you answer honestly, “You make me feel safe and I want to be reminded that it’s you.” His eyes soften to something you’ve never seen on him before, something hidden in the abyss of him that’s seeing the light for the first time. It’s only a flicker of a thing, then it’s gone, but it makes your heart twinge. Maybe he needs me to care for him too, maybe this is how I do it.

He swallows and nods. “Alright then, princess.” He makes quick work of the shell buttons and folds the shirt over the back of the chair next to his dresser. What’s revealed to you makes your insides clench and the room feel hot: bronze skin painted with silver scars and geometric tattoos that cover the thick muscles of his chest and broad shoulders, his slightly softer belly and wraps over the trunk of his torso.

Your eyes drink him in, your mouth watering at the sight of this beautiful man. Quenching yourself on the vision of him, your gaze roves over every centimeter of skin he’s allowed you, from the crown of his head to the dusting of dark hair trailing tantalizingly down into his gray pants. Your hips roll forward just a bit, seeking friction, and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Fuck he’s hot… I want to trace every tattoo on his body with my tongue until I have them committed to memory.

He flashes you a grin that’s all teeth, the easy confidence he feels in his own skin radiating off him like an ocean gale. “Like what you see, pretty girl?”

You bob your head up and down fervently, eager to demonstrate your awe for every piece of him he lets you have. “Yes, sir,” you add quickly, remembering your manners—you would be just as good to him as he is to you.

Keeping the depths of his eyes locked on your face, he comes around the bed with the grace of a panther circling its next meal, and stops at your side. He tugs the restraint holding your hands up a final time, grunting his approval at its strength. “If you’re ready, close your eyes and tell me out loud, princess.”

You sigh in contentment: you’re finally getting what you want. You want to be good for him, you’d put up your fight and now you were ready for your reward. Your eyes slide shut and you tug just barely at your silky restraint; feeling the tightness of your bonds makes your thighs press together in anticipation. “I’m ready, sir.”

The bed dips as Boba moves to settle back in front of you and your thighs fall open in an offering of submission, eliciting a low groan from the professor. “This what you needed, princess?” he drawls, dragging kisses up the insides of your calves as his hands massage up your legs. “Someone to make you just lie there and take it?” He nips at the softer skin above your knee and a moan slips from your lips before you can stifle it, the raw dominance and masculinity of him dredging up something pliant and latent from the depths of your desire.

A warm, hazy feeling begins to bloom in your belly, the heavy ambrosia of it spreading outwards into your limbs and weighing you into the downy mattress. As the sensation licks up your ribs and into your chest, Boba moves farther up your legs, planting flushed kisses up your thighs while his hands continue to rub away the tension lingering in your body. The golden wave fills your lungs and throat, but it doesn’t feel like drowning; rather, it’s like you’ve learned to breathe underwater in the sunny shallows of a peaceful reef, protected and safe. Exhaling the last hooked resistance from your chest, you allow yourself to slip under the dappled surface.

“That’s it, there you go, I’ve got you,” Boba praises softly into your skin when all your muscles go slack and loose under him. He begins surveying a map of your pleasure, dragging his lips over your heated skin to find your most tender points, testing and teasing your increasing sensitivity to his touch. He continues to avoid where you want him most, however.

Sucking in a deep breath, you squeeze your closed eyes tighter. “P-please,” you stutter, your appeal dripping from your lips with a whimper, “please.”

A rumble of gratitude sounds from the man below, his hands stroking your thighs reassuringly. “That’s my good girl, using her manners,” he coos, his warm breath fanning over the slick skin inches from his face. Nuzzling into the crease of your hip, he sucks his mark into the sensitive flesh before sanctifying his work with a graze of his lips as you whimper from his ministrations. “You’ve done so good for me, been so patient. Now open those beautiful eyes, princess,” he coaxes, pressing your hips flat with his open palms, “I want you to see how pretty your soaked pussy looks with my tongue in it.”

His words go straight to your clit and a moan filters through your chest—you can actually feel the fresh arousal coating your folds. Prying your eyes open, you blink his broad form into focus below you. Visually confirming he has your attention, Boba leans into your center just as promised and licks the most delicious, wet stripe up your sopping panties, his tongue flicking over your clit at the very end. Boba groans and mumbles curses into the tender skin of your thigh. “Fuck, you taste better than I ever could have imagined, sweetheart. Sweetest thing I’ve ever had.”

“You… you thought about me?” you gasp around your pleasure, your nerves sparking as his rough fingertips come up to trace your nipples. The thought of him aching for you the same way you had for him makes your pulse throb in your core. His tweaks your nipples and you let out a rather undignified squeak that earns you a chuckle from the man below you.

Looping his thumbs under the waistband of your lingerie, Boba pulls the fabric taunt, stretching it thin and guiding it slowly over your desperate clit to generate a tormenting amount of friction. “Every single day since you first opened that mouth of yours, pretty girl. Couldn’t get you out of my karking head. Wanted to taste you, smell you, feel you—it was torture.”

You moan, bucking your hips against the garment and pulling against your restraints to seek out more of him.

Seeing your enthusiastic reaction to his admission, Boba continues, his deep voice vibrating all the way down to your bones. “Didn’t help when you started laying in my office every day in all those little sundresses. Wanted to throw your legs over my shoulders and make you come all over my face every single time. But that's what you wanted, isn’t it? That’s why you wore them, hoping I’d ask for a taste, dirty girl.”

Fuck. You’re gushing like a goddamn waterfall and Boba hasn’t even really touched you yet. It’s so much and not enough, and you know his tongue in your pussy would be the answer to all your problems. “Please,” you try again, high and desperate, “I want your tongue.”

“Oh, I know you do, sweetheart,” he smolders, mocking and sympathy twisting together, “lift your hips.” You immediately obey and he slides your panties off, tossing them over his shoulder. He wastes no time settling back between your legs, wrapping his muscled arms around your thighs to hold them open. A jagged curse hisses from his lips when your glistening folds are finally fully revealed. “Prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen,” he breathes out, almost to himself, “been dreaming about this pussy and now it’s all karking mine.”

Before his words even finish forming, he’s on you, groaning like a man starved as he licks into you with a branding tongue that has your eyes rolling back. It’s hot and wet and urgent, and primal need cries out from the innate, subconscious part of yourself: you want to please him to the core of your being. When the heavenly heat of his mouth breaks from your core, you choke on a sob of disappointment, tilting your face down at him. He looks almost as wrecked as you feel, and you clench around nothing at the prospect of you holding as much power over him as he does you.

“Look at me, princess,” he pants raggedly, his words charred over with desire, “I want you to look at me while I'm eating out your sweet little pussy.”

“Yes, sir!” You’re way past pride at this point; you’d hop on foot while turning in circles if it meant he’d put his tongue back on you.

He smirks and dives back in, licking up all the slick from your folds before kissing his way up to your clit. He groans as you shiver at the contact on your most sensitive part, his tongue coming back out to flutter over it… and then he sucks. Bright stars explode at the edges of your vision, and your back arches off the bed. The sound bursts forth from your lungs is one of pure, unbridled pleasure: nothing compares to this, nothing, not when it’s him, finally him. You’ve never felt this fucking good before and you never want to feel anything else again. Now that he’s got you on the tip of his tongue, you want to feel him everywhere. Kissing your lips, sucking on your breasts, throbbing inside you, everywhere.

You cry out in half-broken curses when he sucks your clit into his mouth again and shakes his head back and forth, the combination of sensations flooding your nerves with crackling snaps of pleasure. Your knees try to close around his head but the iron grip on your thighs doesn’t let you move an inch; you really are just going to have to lie there and take it. You yank against the ties holding your hands and a moan scrapes up your throat at the realization that you really won’t be able to get free, that his man is going to lick and slurp up your pussy and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s a freedom unlike any you’ve ever known—and you’re going to revel in the glory of it.

Boba must be able to feel your revelation somehow because he detaches from your pussy with a wet pop that smacks against your nerves. “That’s it, that’s my girl,” he coos, rubbing his palms up and down your thighs, “It’s so much better this way isn’t it? So much better when you let go and let me give you what you need. Now, I’m going to let go of this leg and you’re going to keep it open for me. I need to get you ready, little princess, stretch you out on my fingers so you’re nice and ready for my cock. Let me hear that you understand.”

Fuck, if his dick’s like the rest of him I’m going to need it. You manage to voice your understanding with a shudder at the thought of just how full he could fill you.

Bringing his right hand up to your face, he traces the rough pad of his trigger finger across the seam of your lips. “Open,” he commands simply, “Get these nice and wet for me.” You obey and he slides his middle two fingers into your waiting mouth with a groan; you delight in the task, sucking and licking at the thick fingers crowding your mouth, much to Boba’s relish. “So eager, I like that, princess. That why you run that brat mouth all the time? You want me to stick something in it?”

You just grin around his fingers in response, then sink your mouth all the way down to their base as you blink big blowjob eyes down at him. Boba hisses, his hips jerking into the bed beneath him but he recovers quickly, popping his appendages from your lips. “Watch it, don’t get in trouble.”

“I told you, sir, I like trouble,” you giggle, biting your lip as you smirk down at him. Holding your gaze, he sticks out his tongue and rests the flat of it against your swollen clit, and the rest of your thoughts fizzle out into sparkling dots of pleasure with a gasp.

“Mmm, yeah, that’s what I thought,” he hums against you, tracing his slicked middle finger along your entrance, “If you want to talk so much, sweetheart, why don’t you tell me why I should let you fuck my fingers.” He notches his digit at your dripping opening, setting you aflame with fresh desire. “Go ahead then, let me hear it.”

Now that your earlier unease has subsided, you can't help but seize the opportunity to snark back at him. “Because if you don’t, you can’t put your dick in me,” you answer smugly, shimmying your hips in front of his face.

Boba’s eyes darken with a dangerous tint, his brow arching at your bold response. “Better try again or you’ll get nothing, brat.”

His patience is stretched as thin as yours now and you want nothing more than to make him snap first. You snort, cocking your head to the side. “Oh, I think you want this pussy too bad to give me nothing, sir.”

Retracting from your core, Boba lifts himself off of you to sit up on his haunches. “Well,” he sighs dramatically, puffing out his cheeks and wiping the slick off his chin with the back of his hand, “since you don’t want to listen, you won’t get your reward. It’s a real shame too, princess, you were being so good earlier. Guess I’ll have to send you home with nothing but a sore ass to show for it.”

He shifts like he's about to get off the bed and you snap against your restraints in sudden panic: shitshitshit. If you don’t have him guts-deep tonight you’re not going to survive. “Wait, no, please! I’ll be good, I swear, I didn’t mean it before, please! Let me try again!” you plead, instant regret sending pangs of dread up your spine.

Tutting, he shakes his head. “I already let you try a second time and you only acted worse. What’s there to make me think a third time will be any better, hmm?”

The way his dark eyes are glittering with everything but mercy only turns you on more, dread coiling alongside the desire in your belly. “Third time’s the charm?” you squeak out, flashing him your most sincere smile and batting your lashes. You can do this, you tell yourself, you can flirt your way out of just about anything… right?

Boba barks out a sharp laugh, tossing his head back in amusement. “Alright then, little brat, let’s hear it.” He folds his thick arms over his chest expectantly, and you have force your brain to actually think instead of admiring the way his biceps looked pressed firm or the way his tattoos gleam in the low light.

Pressing your lips together, swallow against the rising tide of heat flooding up from your core. Rather than risk playing your cards wrong, you offer him the unadulterated truth. “I just want you so kriffing bad it makes me forget myself, I’m sorry,” you simper, blinking up at him, “Please fuck me open with your fingers, my pussy needs you, I need you, please don’t leave me like this. I’ll be so so good and take everything you give me. I want to be good for you, I… I just can’t help it sometimes.” Your eyes drop and your teeth worry at your lip; you wish you could reach out and touch him, to trace your intentions into his skin and over his scars with tender care.

“Aw, little princess, you can be so sweet when you want to, can’t you?”

You peek up at him through your lashes. He’s smiling, smug and satisfied, but his brown eyes betray the genuine warmth to his sentiment. You nod quickly, sticking out your bottom lip. Boba dips down, kissing you and nipping at it, while his fingers ghost down your ribs to slip over your stomach. Your breath hitches as he drags them through the mess of slick between your thighs, coating his fingers in your arousal, and you arch up into him as far as you can with the silky bindings around your wrists.

Dragging his fingers lazily over your clit with slow friction, Boba licks his way back down your body to retake his place between your thighs where he tosses one of your legs over his strong shoulder in a move that has you clenching around nothing. You’re already trembling from the tight tension winding up in your lower half and the dark look in his eye as he presses his thumb against your apex and begins to rub at a delicious pace. The sensuous waves of your long awaited pleasure roll up your body, flooding your nerves with rosy heat and pulling a high whine from your throat.

Boba grunts approvingly, throwing a heavy arm over your hips to keep you from bucking out of his grasp. “Feel good, sweetheart? Yeah, I know it does. Look at you, making a mess of my sheets. I bet I could make you come just like this, just by rubbing that cute little clit of yours for a little longer. Mmm, maybe some other time, because now I gotta get that tight cunt ready for me.”

“Please,” you gasp, your brain already muddled with hazy pleasure, “please, I want to feel you… feel all of you.” The better you feel, the greater your ache for him grows; you need him inside you, you need your body to give him the revelry you knew it could bring him. You thirst, crave, hunger to be the source of his joy and gratification, to be the reason he lets go and comes apart, to be his blinding peace in a dark universe.

“Mmm such good manners. Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you, little one, gonna give you just what you need.” His thumb is replaced by his warm tongue flicking over that bundle of nerves with maddening precision, its rough texture making the bubbling heat in your core spike. The babble of pleasure that streams from your lips chokes off when two of his thick fingers slide effortlessly into you with a lewd squelch. “Oh, princess,” he groans into you, his hips thrusting into the mattress, “you’re-fuck-you’re perfect here, too.”

He’s struck a seam of desire so deep in your stratum you almost crack open from the feeling of his calloused fingers and voice alone. “Fuuuuck, please, please, I want your cock inside of me,” you beg, shameless and searing, your hips rolling down to take more of him. Boba doesn’t respond, he just begins pumping his fingers, curling and scissoring them inside you while he laps at your clit with moans of delight. Pent up and overwhelmingly turned on, you’re not far from your release when he brushes against that spot tucked away in your core.

Eruptions of light score the backs of your eyes and pure energy arches your spine. “Fuck, yes! Right there, right fucking there,” you cry out, grinding your shaking hips down onto him. Your muscles burn with exertion as you fight against the satin material snaked around your arms, the feeling fueling the explosion of pleasure building inside you at a frightening pace. This man is going to be your marvelous undoing.

“Right here?” he grunts against you, the wrecked bass of his voice vibrating though your burning core, “This gonna make you come, princess? This gonna make you soak my fingers and slick up my face?” He’s hooked himself against that devastating spot inside your cunt and it’s driving nearly insane as you try and wring your next words out.

The words are choked and strained as all your muscles twist dizzyingly tight around the intensity of your impending release. “Yes, fuck yes, yes!” Your head is thrown back between your shoulders and you’re shamelessly riding his tongue, taking every ounce of pleasure he gives you. Streaks of stars singe the backs of your eyelids as you shoot higher and higher into the atmosphere of your ecstasy—much closer and you’ll be consumed by the heat of his white-hot sun. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna-”

“Fuck, come for me, ner cyare, come for me and let me hear how beautiful you fucking sound when coming on my tongue,” he moans in a dripping, heady voice. He draws your clit back between his lips and flicks his tongue over it through the heavenly suction.

Everything shatters and you scream as the now unbearable heat of your orgasm pours down your throat, shorting out your nerves, and liquefying your consciousness into a pool of Boba Fett’s making. You’re beautifully ruined and you’re finally his, divine and free.

He rides you through your high, coaxing every last particle of pleasure from your molten heat, curses and praises swirling together in his arousal-roughened timbre. In the gossamer aftermath of your climax, you hazily watch him suck your shining release from his fingers like it's a rare nectar to be savored. The hum of his words might be telling you so but they’re so far away from your understanding, you’ll never know, especially when he begins hurriedly stripping off the remainder of his clothes.

His gray slacks reveal muscular thighs and powerful hips, and you long to drag your tongue down the “V” line of his abdomen and nip at his hip bones. When his hand strokes over the hard bulge hidden by his underwear, you moan and weakly pull against your ties—you want to be doing that for him.

“Something the matter, princess?” he asks, his voice just barely wavering with his restraint as he continues to lazily palm himself to the sight of your open thighs coated in your glistening orgasm.

“Let me-let me taste you, sir, please,” you plead, your voice wrought with desire, “Let me show just how grateful and sweet I can be.” Your mouth waters and you crave the weight of him on your tongue, the pressure on your throat, his taste lingering on your lips.

“As much as I want to let you choke on my cock, pretty girl, the first thing I want to feel is that tight pussy swallowing me. Can’t wait anymore,” he rasps, a hint of unfamiliar desperation darkening his words. “You wanna be untied or you want to stay up, sweetheart? Talk to me.”

He’s standing next to the bed looking like sin itself and you don’t hesitate to give him your answer. “Untied, wanna touch you, wanna hold you, please Boba.”

The sweet strain of your voice saying his name has him sucking in a sharp breath as he bends over your bound body. “Whatever you want, princess, I’ll give you whatever you want,” he promises with a moan into the sweat-slicked skin of your throat as his fingers deftly untie the silk binding your wrists without the need for his eyes.

As soon as you're free, you jump to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close but he catches your elbows above your head. You whine, struggling weakly in his firm grasp to feel the sweet relief of his skin on yours. You need him on you more than you need to breathe.

“Easy, little one, you’re going to hurt yourself like that. Be easy, I’m not going anywhere,” his stormful voice soothes. He sets his mouth over yours, kissing you deep as the ocean and just as powerful, his strong hands rubbing the stiffness from your joints gently. You sigh at his touch, dissolving like sparkling sea foam on his sheltered shores. “That’s it, there you go. I’m so sorry, babygirl, I should’ve told you that you have be slow coming out of restraints. You okay?”

“‘m okay, ‘s alright,” you slur, still dazed and happy from the balm of his touch. His resulting frown is like a cloud blocking the sun of him from shining down on you, and you blink his face into focus to see what’s depriving you.

“No, it’s not, it’s my job to take care of you, make sure you're only hurt in the ways you want to be.” He eases your arms down to lay across your chest and places a light kiss on the tip of your nose. “The rules apply to me, too, little one.”

If he’s not careful, he really is going to make my heart burst. Wiggling your eyebrows up at him from where you’re sprawled on his bed, you give him a sly grin. “You want me to punish you for breaking the rules?”

He snorts, a smirk cracking through the downturn of his mouth. “Do you want to?”

You scrunch up your lips and roll your eyes up in exaggerated consideration before proclaiming, “For you penance, professor, you must bring me some water and then fuck me silly.”

The most divine laugh spills from his lips, wide and resonant. “As you wish, princess.” He disappears towards the bathroom and you push yourself up the mattress to prop yourself up on his plush pillows. He returns a minute later with a glass of cool water and some ibuprofen. “Go ahead and take these so you’re not as sore later,” he offers, wrapping your waiting fingers around the cup.

You offer him a grateful smile and tip back the pills with the water in a few greedy gulps. Thirst slaked and immediate needs met, your eyes wander back over to the man next to you, scouring every inch of him in open hunger. The topography of his scars and the patterns of his tattoos tell a story that is so uniquely him, and you’re dying to learn every word of it, commit it to memory with your hands and mouth. The notion that you even get to be a mere sentence in his tale is as baffling as it is exhilarating.

“Boba…” His name falls from your lips that still taste of him, of relentless strength and innate power. You want him, all of him. You want to hear his groans and feel the drag of him in your most sensitive spots, you want to be his pleasure and his solace.

He’s on you in an instant, finally allowing the fates to bring you together fully and completely. He takes and you let him, you arch into his touch and pant his name, tasting and kissing him like he’s something to be worshiped, like that thing isn’t already you. It’s hopeless exuberance and fervent longing, it’s things hoped for and the universe’s rare grace. It’s everything, it’s history, it’s life’s meaning. It’s him.

You want him like a fire needs fuel or the ocean needs the moon, terribly and crucially. He’s the immovable object that grounds your unstoppable force. You crave the balance he brings to your scales, you need him. He’s hot and heavy over you, melding himself into you with rolling hips and possessive hands, molding you to the shape of him. “Boba.” You utter his name like the prayer it is. “Please.”

“I know, sweet girl, I know.” He cups your jaw in the hollow of his hand, running his other down your thigh to hook it over his hip. “I’m going to give it all to you, princess, I’m going to give you everything.” He lines himself up with your dripping, yearning heat and finally sinks into the space he was always meant to fill.

A curse is just a blessing sent to the devil, and the way Boba makes you feel like the very essence of divine femininity has you singing hell’s praises. The way the thickness of him stretches you out has to be a sin for the way it makes you feel so unbelievably full and warm and his. The first thrust of his hips has your eyes rolling back and your nails scratching down his back in pure ecstasy.

“Kark, princess, shit. Knew you would feel amazing,” Boba grits out through bared teeth, his fingers pressing their mark into your skin, “Osik, so tight and wet, so perfect just for me. Shoulda bent you over your desk that very first day, I know you would’ve let me, my dirty little girl. Should’ve never left without filling up that sweet cunt.” Boba apparently can’t shut up now that he’s got you and it’s going straight to your throbbing clit. His hips snap against your own and you both moan into each other’s open mouth when he’s fully seated in your velvet heat.

“Please, more,” you plead, “please give me more, sir. I’m all yours.” You want to feel him for weeks.

Shuddering, Boba grinds himself impossibly deeper into you. “Keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, and I’ll-fuck-I’ll give you anything you fucking want.”

A tremor of blistering heat rakes over you, and you surge forward and take his lips, biting down on the plush of his lower lip. “Do it, give it to me, give me everything, I want you, please, sir.”

Boba groans and sets a driving, urgent pace that you just know neither of you are going to last with. “I’ve waited so long for this, dreamed about making you come apart on my cock. Kark, I want to take my time with you, princess, but the way your tight little pussy is squeezing me I don’t think I’m going to last long. You feel so good, taste like heaven, and sound so sweet, y-you’re perfect. You’re worth every goddamn minute I spent waiting to find you,” he pants, his breath haphazard as his thrusts snap harder and deeper as if he could drill his words into your cunt, “shit-I’m going to fuck you just like you deserve, princess, fuck you so good you can never forget how much you mean to me, my sweet, precious girl.”

You can see the nebula of your release in the deep space of his eyes, each drag of his cock against your pulsing walls ratcheting you further into the desire-dark galaxy of him. His hand brushes over the swell of your belly to find your clit and he rubs sloppy circles that have you making sounds you’ve never made before. "Oh princess, sweetheart, pretty baby… fuck, do you know how good you feel? Even better than all the heavens… you're so fucking perfect and your sweet little cunt is strangling me. I'm gonna fuck you so good, gonna fuck you so you feel me for kriffing days, fuck, gonna…"

You throw an arm around his neck and crash his lips into yours. His sweat drips from his collarbone to trickle down the valley of your breasts, the feather light sensation so erotic that you almost come again from that alone. "Shit, Boba, you’re so fucking good-so fucking good to me, best I’ve ever had, all I ever want. Please, please don’t stop, I want all of you inside of me, make me yours, fuck, I love you, d-don’t stop!”

“Osik, ner cyare, it’s all yours, you’re all mine, only, all…” Boba breaks off with a snarl, lacing his fingers in yours with one hand and slamming it above you while his other slides under your neck to yank your head back by your hair. You contort in primal pleasure and the new angle has him pounding against that universe-shattering spot. “Come on, come on, one more time for me sweetheart, I know you have it in you, let me feel that perfect pussy come on my cock o-one more time and I swear I’ll fill you up so full,” he growls into your exposed throat before latching onto your pulse point and sinking in his teeth to mark you as his alone.

You cry out into the white light exploding around you, a million stars imploding into a sparkling dust that filters through your lungs and into your blood. Cataclysmic heat fills your insides a moment later and you’re suddenly whole for the first time in your entire existence, the laws of your universe finally coming together into one unified equation. You were, you are, you became, you will, all at once and all forever.

You’re softly curled on top of Boba with one arm behind his neck and the other folded across his broad chest, your fingers stroking patterns on his shoulder with your leg slung over his thigh. It’s utter bliss, you never want to move again. Just lie on his perfect, warm chest and be in faultless paradise forever, be painted into one of those masterpieces that hang in a museum—sublime and beautiful for all time, admired and envied by those who have to carry on living. If only.

You hear your name rumbling in the ribs underneath you and you hum an acknowledgement.

“You with me, babygirl?” His gorgeous voice sounds like it’s far away even though it’s impossibly close. You don’t know what that means so shake your head and bury your face deeper into him. You’re safe here so that’s where you’ll stay, locked in golden amber, thick and precious.

Eventually, however, the time passes and you become flesh and blood again, alive and mortal. You find it’s not so bad though, not when Boba is there waiting for you. You turn your face to press your lips into the marred skin of his sternum, planting kisses over each divot and mark there before shifting so you can blink up at him happily. “Hey,” you mumble lazily, a smile unfurling on your lips. Surely, it doesn’t get better than this.

“Hey,” he murmurs with a smile like the golden sun, the corners of his eyes turning up. “How’re you, my pretty girl?”

There’s a dull, pleasant ache between your thighs. “Mmm… good, ‘s happy,” you sigh contentedly, pressing deeper into his warmth. “You?”

Boba shifts up the bed so he’s propped up on the pillows, adjusting you back over him with his hand splayed across your lower back. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Never been better, princess.”

Peeking up, you trace a finger tip over the deep crease between his eyebrows. “What’s worrying you then?”

He takes your hand in his own and lowers it to give a light kiss. “Nothing, little one.”

You prop up on your elbow and fix him with a stern look. “I thought we only gave and took honesty when we’re like this.”

He lets out a groan, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?” He falls silent and you can tell he’s thinking, so you leave him be, patiently resting your head on his shoulder to wait. After a quiet couple of minutes, he adjusts his position slightly and you tell he’s ready. Taking your hand in his, Boba brushes his thumb over the thin skin of the inside of your wrist and begins in a tone less confident than his usual. “I… I’ve never been much good at this part of things, the talking. Always been easier to just do rather than to figure out the words to say.”

You make a warm sound of encouragement and settle deeper into him to assure him that you’re not going anywhere, that you’re listening. With your ear pressed against him, you can hear the heavy beat of his heart and deep breath he takes in before continuing. “Did you mean what you said?”

You frown, not catching his meaning. “When I said what?”

“It’s fine if you didn't… if it was just in the heat of the moment.”

You sit up so you can look him in the eye, anxiety prickling in your stomach. “Said what, Boba?” Cold dread slides down the nape of your neck. Please don’t let this be ruined, please don’t take him away from me.

He goes silent, his eyes searching for something in your own. “Never mind, it’s not important,” he finally mutters. “Forget I said anything.”

Sitting all the way up, you cross your arms over your breasts. “Absolutely kriffing not. You better tell me or I’ll never let you see me naked ever again,” you threaten, setting your jaw.

“Come on, princess,” he tries, ducking his head for a kiss; you turn your chin up so his lips can’t reach yours. A heavy sigh rattles from his chest and his brown eyes look up to the ceiling as if the answer to his problem would be scrawled across it. Finding nothing, he drops his gaze, not meeting your eyes. “Did you mean it when you said that you… love me?”

Frayed electricity floods your brain, your blood running horribly cold. Had you said that? When? Is he upset? Have you ruined everything? The memory of babbled words swells up in a sudden, terrifying wave: “I want you to make me all yours, fuck, I love you, don’t stop!”

You can never keep your big mouth shut can you? you scold yourself, Now you’ve gone and told his perfect man that you love him after one month of knowing him. Kark you’re stupid. There’s no use in denying that you said it, he clearly knows you did. Least he’s gentleman enough to not toss you out of his house immediately, allowing you to get your wits back about you after getting the best dick of your entire life. And, you guess, the last time in your entire life.

The earlier stubborn set to your shoulders droops to a sullen slope. You clear your throat, your eyes trying to find anywhere to look but at him. “I, um, I…” you trail off. Now you’re the one who has to be honest—you don’t think you could lie to him, not like this. “I did mean it… I do mean it. I shouldn’t have said it, though, I know it’s weird and I understand if you want me to leave and we go our separate ways after this.” You finally settle on a point on the other side of the room to stare at while you wait for his inevitable rejection. When it begins to bounce around in your vision, you notice that Boba is shaking underneath you. Your eyes fly to his face.

“Oh, little princess, what am I going to do with you?” he laughs, the sound not sharp or mean as you expected, but sunny and joyful, his expression elated. Cupping your face in his large hands, he brings his lips to yours, and you can feel his smile.

Is he… does he?

Pulling you back just enough to see your face, Boba brushes his thumbs across your cheekbones affectionately, his brown eyes the softest they’ve ever been. “You really are something else. Where have you been all my life?”

“Wondering when the hell you’re going to tell me what’s going on,” you huff, staving off the fretful waver in your voice. Your heart is pounding so hard in your ribs you think they might bruise, and you can scarcely breathe with the hope that your feelings are reciprocated.

He says your name in that thalassic voice of his, chucking up your chin with two fingers. “Say it again first so I know I’m not dreaming.”

Fortune favors the bold, and so does he. Looking him dead in the eye, you let go one more time for him. “I love you, Boba Fett, I really do. Four karking weeks in or not.”

He lays his warm palm on the back of your neck, guiding you forward so he can rest his forehead against yours. “I’m glad you said it, cyar’ika, because I… I love you, too.”

If he wanted to say anything else, it’s lost to the ages because you’re kissing him and you don’t intend to stop any time soon.

MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS

(ner) cyare - (my) beloved, love

cyar’ika - sweetheart, darling, (a diminutive of cyare)

osik - Mando'a curse akin to "shit"

#i nearly did myself in writing this 🥴#i am consumed by the thought of boba slipping into mando'a when things get hot and heavy #zwei writes #fanfic #ex libris fic #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #professor!boba fett #star wars fanfiction #professor boba fett

149 notes · View notes

vodika-vibes · 18 days

Note

i know it’s kinda basic but throne sex with boba fett sounds so hot like i get it’s been used so many times but it still works at least for me lol

It's a trope because it works!

Like, yes, absolutly!

Boba can absolutely ruin me on his throne. Something-something symbolism.

But imagine. Boba doesn't think about it, not until he notices your long stares, and the way you speculatively eye the throne, and then look away while blushing slightly. And he's not sure, at first, what you're getting so flustered about. It's just a throne after all.

But the longer he observes you (and he's very good at observing) the more he realizes what you want. And late one evening he just pins you to the throne and purrs in your ear, "Does my ad'ika want to be ruined on the throne?"

Do I think Boba has a daddy kink, yes. Yes I do.

Anyway, I could probably keep talking about this, about how much space is on the throne and all the various ways he'd take you there, until he can't sit on the throne without thinking about bending you over the arm and fucking you until you can't see straight-

But I think I've been descriptive enough, lol

#star wars #answered asks #18+

16 notes · View notes

cienie-isengardu · 8 months

Text

The following morning dawned bright and clear and hot, and Boba Fett was in a vile mood. It was Tatooine, of course. All the mornings were bright and clear and hot. But the Hutt was going to kill Skywalker. And Solo, and Chewbacca, though that was hardly the point. Skywalker. That was the source of Fett's vile mood. He'd tried to talk Jabba out of killing Skywalker - not that he cared whether Skywalker lived or died; Fett expected the galaxy would be a better place with that fool subtracted from it. He'd seen a lot of remarkably stupid things in his day, but the spectacle of a beardless young man trying to face down Jabba the Hutt in his own throne room was near the top of the list. But, though Fett had argued with him more than was perhaps wise, Jabba was not behaving like the Jabba whom Fett had known all these years. The point was that Darth Vader would pay for the fool - the Emperor would pay for him. The largest posted bounty Fett knew of in the galaxy was five million credits; but Fett was certain that Luke Skywalker would bring more. Jabba didn't want to hear about it. He wasn't willing to share the bounty; he wasn't willing to take the bounty himself, and pay Fett as go-between with Vader. His pet Rancor had died; and Skywalker was going to die for it. Some days Fett was convinced he was the only sane businessperson left in the entire galaxy. It galled him. He planned out scenario after scenario; none of them tempted him. He thought about kidnapping Skywalker out of Jabba's hands, but time was short and Jabba's security was good; even for millions of credits the risk was too high. And so he walked around on the sail barge's upper deck, with uncharacteristic nervous energy, the morning after Skywalker's arrival, the morning that Skywalker and Solo and Chewbacca were to be executed, trying to decide what he was going to do next, as the sail barge headed out to the Great Pit of Carkoon, taking the condemned to their deaths. It came to him as something of a surprise that he hoped Solo died well. Years previously Fett had seen Jabba drop half a dozen of his own guards into the Great Pit of Carkoon, allegedly for conspiring against him; he'd offered them all a chance to grovel for their lives. Two of them had, and Jabba, of course, had fed them to the Sarlacc anyway. He knew Chewbacca wouldn't beg; he hoped Solo wouldn't. Maybe Skywalker would beg for his life. That wouldn't be so bad.

- The Last One Standing: The Tale of Boba Fett by Daniel Keys Moran

FOR THE CONTEXT: this is pre-AotC Boba Fett's backstory - Jaster Mereel and Boba are the same person. Retconned in 2002

#star wars #boba fett #luke skywalker #darth vader #han solo #chewbacca #jabba the hutt #FOR THE CONTEXT: this is pre-AotC Boba Fett's backstory - Jaster Mereel and Boba are the same person. Retconned in 2002

34 notes · View notes

sinisterexaggerator · 8 months

Note

I haven't asked you some Jango stuff yet and idk why. But I know you can do him so good because of the many plots/thots/thoughts we've talked about everywhere, so if you can...

Say Jango and Bane got into a real nasty argument which included guns be pointed at each other but ended up walking away to cool off. Who makes the first move? And how will it pan out?

Warning: NSFW. Smut talk.

Oh, good question. This requires me explaining their dynamic a bit as far as ideas for my fic.

Jango would be Bane’s mentor as was canon. Nothing else is known about them working together or even associating with each other except at some point Bane says “he owed Jango a few favors” regarding Boba, and Hondo mentions in “Secrets of the Bounty Hunters” that he had many adventures with Jango Fett and Cad Bane, among others.

Thinking about their place on the GFFA timeline, they most likely interacted BEFORE Jango created his clone army, and even sometime afterward before the Clone Wars as it was mentioned Boba KNEW who Cad Bane was and desired to work with him on a job in the comics.

To that end, both were near the same age, though if my calculations are correct, Jango is older. Considering how hotheaded Cad Bane is, I assume that in his youth he was even worse.

I see Bane picking fights after one too many drinks, letting the insults fly, and drawing his weapon for no reason other than to intimidate someone. I see others coaxing him to stand down, either verbally or by force, or perhaps Jango has a secret weapon or two up his sleeve that is noted to work nearly every time.

I imagine Bane to be a bit of a brat in this era. Hard to train, hard to control, but also capable of holding his own. Jango saw potential. It may have been he took him under his wing once they worked together, or perhaps they were in direct competition with one another and Fett decided that instead of being enemies, he wanted a partner, or an equal, as what he saw in Bane was the equivalent of the “mentee” being able to one day surpass the “master.”

At this point, Jango didn’t have a son. We know he has that gene, the one that desperately needs and wants to be a father, apparently. He may have used this drive to mentor Cad, but of course there are definitely times they do not get along.

For one thing, I don’t see it working out in the end between them, one of the MANY REASONS BEING THEY ARE TOO MUCH ALIKE.

Both are sort of stoic by nature, have a hot temper, will do anything the job takes, and have few scruples when it comes to what they will or will not do for credits. We might say Jango is more driven by his hatred for the Jedi, but as a Jedi hunter, Bane has inherited some of this disdain.

Anyway, I digress. The point is they are both stubborn. They both rarely talk about their feelings. They both march to the beat of their own drum, and they both are excellent at what they do.

My interpretation of their relationship would dictate Jango being the one to make the first move after having a terrible argument. Maybe Bane wasn’t sure Jango wouldn’t shoot him, and that made him feel things. I’m writing him as being a bit sensitive overall, but also so obstinate he would sulk and keep his head down after being scolded well enough that he decides to mope off by his lonesome. Of course, this is outwardly expressed as anger though deep down he is hurt.

His person yelled at him. Not only that, Jango at this point in time, is a better bounty hunter than Bane, although one day he may surpass him as I mentioned, and technically he does as he goes up against many Jedi and doesn’t get his head cut off. ;D But, in this instance, he may very well be cautious of him. I wouldn’t say afraid, though there are times he feels fear in the moment, but he also holds a kind of love in his heart for the “old man” though it may never be expressed verbally and instead shown through actions.

I imagine Jango would sit alone, contemplate, and sigh. After some time has passed and he’s cooled off, he would go to Bane knowing the boy rather die than come crawling back. Bane would make it a point to avoid him or stay out of his way until he made it clear he wanted to speak to him again, or make up. In the end, Bane didn’t want to fight him. He wanted them to reconcile as much as Jango did.

I see Jango taking the lead, maybe stroking the side of his face with the back of his hand. Maybe he tips his hat up by the edge to better see his eyes. Bane would stay solemn and wait.

“Cad. Look at me.”

And he would. When in the mood, Bane would do anything that Jango asked of him. This is after he’s attached and before their falling out ( >D ).

Maybe Bane nuzzles his cheek into the man’s hand, or shows some other sort of affection once Jango shows him it's all right, either by a look, or by lifting his chin up or some other small gesture. I assume his eyes are full of apprehension and he remains on guard just in case.

Jango says a few words about how he was wrong, or that he’s sorry he got carried away. Bane believes him, though this may have happened many, many times. He’s receptive to whatever Jango offers him – a kiss, a stroke to his wrist, a pat on the belly, or sharing a drink. In the end they probably fuck nasty to make up, and Bane’s the catcher while biting into the pillow at Fett’s mercy. That, or he rides him while Jango watches the way his fangs gnaw into his lip, or the way he stares ruthlessly into his eyes without once breaking eye contact.

“That’s a good boy, you do know how to listen. If only you were always so well behaved.”

Bane definitely bites back what he wants to say as he’s too busy trying not to cum, drunk off Jango’s dick as he drives it home doggy style nice and slow, let's say.

If he did manage a word or two it’s probably: “Fuck off, Fett.”

Most likely Jango just smiles, not bothering to address him any further. He's content to watch, or to run his hand down the length of Bane's back and the curve of his waist as he brings him to a peak.

#Cad Bane #Jango Fett #Cango #Cad Bane x Jango Fett #I will write this fic one day so help me god #Star Wars #TCW #Clone Wars #Bounty Hunters #Star Wars smut #Ship dynamics #I don't care if you don't like it.#my fic ideas #headcanons

17 notes · View notes

bobafetts-princess · 2 years

Note

Imagine: Boba leaning back comfortably against a pile of pillows while you’re straddling his lap and desperately taking what you need. Leading you with a firm hand on your waist or your thigh and murmuring encouragements. Hope you’re doing well!

Might I direct you towards my latest fic? Tender Affection ?? But also I’ve been sitting on this ask for a couple days because I wanted to write a little more for it 😉 I’m doing great and I hope you are too!!

Riding Boba Fett under the cut. Dirty talk, PiV, just general smuttiness 😏

Sometimes Boba liked it just like this. Lounged back, a stack of pillows to prop him up, against his ornate headboard. You sat astride him, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy as you worked your body up and down.

“That’s it, Princess, take what you need. I love watching you fuck yourself on my cock,” Boba said, his hands gripping the softness of your hips. He took some of the pressure off your thighs, helping you rise and fall over him. You couldn’t speak, you were too focused on the pleasure you were chasing, the soft drag of his cock against your walls. The way his head knocked up against something hot and heavy in your core.

One of his hands slid up to your breast, his calloused hand cupping the soft flesh. You called out his name, so close and so far from the edge.

“I know, Princess. I’ll make you come, don’t worry,” he promised, his deep vibrato washing over you. Another layer of pleasure, not that you needed it. His thumb and forefinger came together pinching your nipple between them. You gasped, pussy pulsing with desire when he pulled slightly. “That’s it, my pretty girl. I know you’re close,” Boba groaned. His own release wasn’t far off but he wanted to see you come first. Plus, if he made you come hard, just the feel of you wrapped around him would make him come.

“Boba. Boba I’m so close,” you cried, your own hand dipping between your legs to find your clit. Just as your finger circled the nub, bringing you the pleasure you craved, his hand smacked it away.

“Let me,” it wasn’t a command but you moved your hand anyways. His thumb, rougher more precise than yours, hit tight circles on the sensitive bud. His other hand pinched at your nipples as your hips rose and fell over his cock. His balls were tight, so fucking tight, as he denied his own release in favor of yours. He could feel the flutters of your orgasm as he tormented your body and he silently begged for you to finish so he could too.

“Boba,” you cried, drawing out the last syllable as you clamped down on him, orgasm hitting you like a freight train. You collapsed on his chest as your release rolled over you, causing little tremor shocks that brought Boba to his own end. He groaned low and deep in your ear as you tried to lift your hips for one last thrust. Boba’s hands held you in place as he pulsed, pressing up into you as he filled you.

“Fuck, Princess. Sex with you gets better every time,” he groaned, fingers running up and down your back as you both caught your breath.

“It really does, doesn’t it?” You reply, head barely tipping back so you can look up at him. You press up, laying a soft kiss on his throat, which had his chest rumbling underneath yours. The two of you fell asleep just like that, wrapped in each other and the moonlight of Tatooine’s twin moons.

#boba fett #boba fett x you #boba fett fucks #the book of boba fett #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x reader #boba fett fanfic #boba fett fanfiction #star wars #karie writes #karie answers

184 notes · View notes

maybege · 1 year

Text

'tis the damn season

Summary: Years after you last saw Boba Fett, Natalie invites you to spend Christmas with her family.

Pairing: hot dad!Boba Fett x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 7.5k | Rating: M

Warnings: angst, fluff, more angst, probably too many Taylor Swift song references

Hello, my loves! How are you? I hope the end of the year is treating you well. After too many years since 2019, I have caught The Big 'Rona and thought to myself “Why feel miserable when I can make us all feel angst?”. Basically the premise of this is: Have you ever thought what would happen after the alternate (unhappy) ending? This is the answer. The vibes are heavily inspired by ‘tis the damn season and I think there are a few TSwift reference there for you to catch if you enjoy them (don’t ask me how many/few, I literally have no idea). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this last return to hot dad!Boba and I would be so so so very happy if you let me know what you thought in a comment or a reblog! I wish you all a very happy winter season and we will read each other next year ❤️

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“You promised you would come!”

“I know, Nat,” you sighed, leaning back in your office chair, “It’s just … it’s a long time since I’ve been back and I don’t want to impose and –“

“You would never impose,” she interjected, “You know that! My mom is already so excited to see you and,” here her voice got quieter, “If I do get engaged this holiday season, I want my best friend there. You didn’t even come to the summer trip this year.”

I didn’t come on the summer trip in the last three years, you wanted to reply but you knew that it would not help your case. You clicked out of the document you had been working on, immediately being faced with the desktop background of you and Nat, smiling into the camera when she had come to visit you last year.

You remembered how happy you had been to show her around your new home, to see her after your big move and talk to her like nothing had happened. And for a few brief moments, it had felt like your heart had never been broken, like you were healed from the sadness that seemed to haunt you from three years away.

“Okay,” you heard yourself say, “I will come to visit you over the holidays.”

Two months later, you were sure you were about to regret your moment of weakness. But it was too late to go back now, your bags were checked in, the plane had taken off and landed and the winter’s frost was sneaking its way into your thick winter coat as you hurried across the tarmac and into the little airport building.

You were barely past the gates when heard your name being called by a very familiar and very excited voice and it took you but a moment to spot a head of red curls bobbing up and down in the crowd. And then there they were, Nat and Will, everyone’s favourite couple.

It was late, already, and you were tired but having Natalie swing herself at you had you. “You look amazing! Oh, my stars, how was your flight? Did they serve dinner? If not, mom saved you some dinner she made this new pasta dish that you are going to love. Seriously, it is to die for, it has these bits of rosemary in the sauce that –“

“It is so good to see you,” Will greeted you with a smile, taking your suitcase from you, his hand landing on your shoulder, before leaning in to whisper, “She has been very excited as you can hear.”

You grinned, listening to Natalie chatter away as she led you outside and through the parking lot, right towards Will’s car. Snow was dusting the ground and you could see your breath forming little clouds in the air.

It was a winter wonderland.

“How was your day?”

“Exhausting,” you answered honestly as you sat in the back of the car, “Drove to the airport straight from work and it's just – it’s been a long day.”

“You’ll be happy to hear that Poppy has prepared the guest room for you,” Will smiled, “And made her famous lasagne.”

You could not help your groan, “That sounds fucking amazing.”

Nat laughed in the backseat, “I knew you’d say that!”

The drive to her home was shorter than you had remembered but perhaps it was also Nat’s commentary on what you had missed the last three years that made it seem like the blink of an eye before Will pulled into a familiar driveway.

“Oh, wow that’s a lot of cars,” you commented, feeling a little anxious about the gathering that Natalie had insisted was “small”.

As you got out of the car, your eyes Immediately went further up the road, trying to see if you could spot any light in the windows of the neighbouring house or a car in the driveway or Boba walking towards you, confessing his undying love and that he wanted you back and –

“Let’s get going before the food gets cold,” Nat clapped her hand, clearly excited and you tried your best to smile, “I bet Mom had to defend the leftovers for you already.”

Will was the first to enter and carried your bag up the stairs which you were thankful for. You could hear voices coming from the kitchen but you made it a point to let Natalie enter first. “Look who is here!” your friend announced excitedly and you stepped into the door.

Poppy was immediately in front of your, completely blocking your view and you immediately felt more at ease when you saw her genuine smile. “I haven’t seen you in ages!” she greeted you, hugging you to her before pulling you to the kitchen table, “Good thing Will is a quick driver or else …”

You were sure she continued talking, you just didn’t hear her. Her voice faded off into nothingness much like everything else. The only sound you could hear was rushing in your ears as your eyes drifted to the kitchen table. There was Nat’s dad, Rob, yes. He had a plat of lasagne before him and a glass of wine in his hand. He was smiling as he listened to his voice.

But next to him, standing up as soon as you had entered, was Boba. His plate was empty as was his glass, his big hands were resting on the table as if he had pushed himself up. He was wearing blue jeans and a belt and a blue button-down that was rolled up on his forearms. Your heart began to beat faster and faster with no shows of stopping and you were

When your eyes met his, time stood still. There was no other way to describe what was happening other than everything else ceased to exist. Time, space, and any other people in the room. It was all gone. All you could see, all you could think, was Boba. The years hadn’t changed him, really, he was still as handsome as ever, if not more. His dark eyes were warm and his lips were pressed tight together. You wondered if seeing you again affected him as much as it did you.

“Hi,” you blurted out, your voice sounding wrong to your own ears.

Boba swallowed, you could see his head bob, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. Lips that you had kissed once like it was the easiest thing in the world. And it had been.

“Hello,” he said, his voice such a deep rumble you felt like it made your chest vibrate.

Things were said and people stood and left and you didn’t really notice any of it. All you could do was watch as Boba left with Rob, his eyes never leaving yours and was Poppy with them too?

And how did you end up at the table with Nat and a steaming plate of lasagne in front of you?

“I, uh, I didn’t know your dad would stay here,” you finally said, numbly reaching for the fork. You couldn’t even look forward to Poppy’s famous lasagne. Great.

“Oh, since he sold the house, he stays over every Christmas,” she shrugged, “It’s cheaper than getting a hotel and it’s nice to have him close.”

“He sold the house?” you frowned.

“Told you,” she smiled sadly, “A lot has happened since you were last here.”

If there was one thing it was that Nat always knew how to get a whole group of people tied into activities, no matter how reluctant they were. Making gingerbread houses, movie nights, potlucks, and walks through the wintery town, Nat really went all out.

Which meant that you had two weeks fully packed with activities for the whole family and no chance of escaping Boba’s intense gaze.

Great.

You had prided yourself on the fact that you were over him. You had gone on dates, you had bought sex toys for yourself, you had set up dating profiles, you had done everything a woman your age did. He had no power over your anymore, of that you had been sure as soon as you had moved away.

But now that you saw him again, saw the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, saw the way his body shook when he laughed or how his hand looked around a cold glass of wine, you weren’t so sure anymore. The worst thing was when you caught him looking at you – more than once – almost lost in thought and his eyes so soft it made your chest ache.

“Dad where are you going?”

You looked up from where you were unsuccessfully trying to drip frosting over the edge of your gingerbread house.

Boba was already by the door to the hallway, looking like he got caught with the hand in the cookie jar. “I’m done,” he said and, as a way of explanation, pointed to his structurally sound and brutalist-inspired decorated ginger house.

“But we aren’t!” Nat protested and much to your dismay, she pointed to you, “Why don’t you help her?”

“Oh, I really don’t think –“

“C’mon, Boba,” Rob interrupted him gently, “Help the girl.”

You had never felt more miserable in your life. Not only did he not want to be close to you, but he also had to be forced to be close to you. An awkward silence ensued as you feverishly stared at your project, trying to avoid looking at him. Because stars knew if you looked at him you wouldn’t be able to stop.

A dark green sweater appeared behind the house as he sat down and you swallowed when you thought of how good he looked with the little belly and the strong arms and the –

“So … what are we doing?”

“I’m trying to put snow on the roof,” you explained, still not looking at him. Your fingers were sticky with the glaze and you clenched your teeth when you saw a chocolate sprinkle slide down the wall. Why could this stupid thing not work the way you wanted it to?

Boba reached for the piping bag in your hands and when his fingertips brushed your knuckles, it felt like he was burning through your skin. “Here, let me. The trick is –“

You pulled away, the icicle you had been piping dropping to the tin aluminium asphalt. “I got it,” you hissed, “You can – You can do something else.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, and you could see him reaching for the bowl of cookie crumbs, “Should I do the garden?”

You nodded, trying your hardest to get your hands to stop shaking. Conversations assumed around you and you both worked in silence. He did not say anything and neither did you because what if you said something embarrassing? Had you overreacted when he had wanted to help you? What if you already had embarrassed yourself?

Then again, why would he refuse to help you? Why didn’t he want to be near you? Sure, you weren’t together anymore and you could imagine easier things for your heart than to be decorating a gingerbread house with him but surely, you weren’t that bad? Did you repulse him that much?

The thoughts in your head didn’t leave you any peace and so you chanced up a glance at him. He was meticulously spreading the cookie crumbs on the foil, his head tilted forward and your eyes followed the bridge of his nose, the line of his jaw, and the little crow's feet next to his eyes that you wanted to trace with your finger.

As if he knew you were looking at him, his eyes shot up, meeting yours. Your breath caught in your throat and you couldn’t look away. You couldn’t do anything, really, except for watching the corners of his mouth quirk up in a tentative smile.

Shakily, you smiled back.

“Let’s go ice skating!”

By now you should have known that whenever Nat had an idea, she would get everyone else to do it with her whether they wanted to or not. If you were honest with yourself, you appreciated her for always getting you to try new things and taking you out of your comfort zone but damn sometimes you just wanted to take a stroll through the snow and curl up in bed with a good book.

But instead of the soft duvet of the guest bed and the warm pages under your fingertips, you were standing at the edge of the frozen lake in a park, the air filled with laughter, screeching children’s voices and the scarping of skates on ice. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shifting from left to right to keep at least a hint of body heat.

“No skating for you?”

You looked at the man standing next to you. He looked casual. And good. He always looked good. He was wearing a black coat and had his hands in his pockets as he looked at a laughing Nat and Will that waved at you. You waved back with a smile, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t really feel like breaking my neck today,” you explained, “What about you?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

There went your composure.

“Oh.”

“So,” he started, smiling slightly, looking at you and forgotten was your determination to just ignore him for the two weeks. The man could read you like an open book and it felt so good to be with him again. Even if it would never be like before. “Nat mentioned you got promoted?”

“I was,” you confirmed, fiddling with your hands, “I, uh, I moved to the coast two years ago. It’s pretty cool, actually, no more fighting with marketing and I get to do some of my own projects.”

“That sounds great. So, uh, John still around?” he asked, his hands awkwardly in his pockets, “Couldn’t help but notice that he isn’t … here.”

You chanced a side glance at him, marvelling at how he

You cleared your throat, “No, he, uh, he hasn’t been around for a while.”

“A while, huh?” he echoed and you nodded.

“I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” you shrugged, “Is, uh, is Caroline still in the picture?”

“She and I wanted different things,” he explained, “Took us just a little time to realize it. I, yeah, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

As you stood at the edge of the lake, his arm lightly brushing yours, you wondered if maybe you were meant to be.

“I think Will is going to propose,” she whisper shouted one night as she sat on your bed, “He is so weird about his luggage and yesterday I saw him hiding something in the sock drawer.”

You had just stepped out of the shower, your hair still dripping as you wrapped the towel tighter around your body. “Did you look to see what it was?”

“Of course not!”

You threw her a look.

“Okay, maybe a little,” she admitted, “It certainly looks like a ring box. Now I just need to

“You know I am going to ask you to be my bridesmaid, right?”

You laughed, “Thank you, Nat, but I expect you to ask me again when it is all official.”

“Of course, of course,” she assured you, gripping a pillow in front of her belly, “I am just so fucking happy. Me! Married! Can you imagine?”

“I can,” you smiled, “And I am truly happy for you, Nat.”

Suddenly her smile fell, though, and you tilted your head questioningly. “Don’t tell me you already worry about the guest list,” you teased her.

“Oh, don’t kid yourself,” she grinned, “I have that figured out since forever, I just …”

“Yeah?”

“I just wish you could feel as happy as I do,” she admitted softly and your smile fell.

“It’s okay,” you said, your heart cracking a little, “I just haven’t met the right person yet. I – I wasn’t as lucky as you were.” Your voice trailed off towards the end, knowing that you had met your person already. It just hadn’t worked out. But you could hardly tell her that.

“Yes, but what if you were,” she insisted, standing up and pacing around the room, “Maybe – maybe

“Nat, if this is your attempt to get dating again, you know I am not ready after John and –“

“John was a bad idea,” she waved off, “But it is important to me that you know that I only ever want you to be happy, okay? I need you to know that.”

“Nat, are you okay?” you frowned, pulling her into a hug, “I promise I am happy and I would never think you were trying to keep me from being happy.”

“Okay,” she sighed, her arms wrapping around your shoulders so tightly, it felt like she was squeezing the air out of your lungs, “I just really need you to know that.”

His stares drove you crazy. No matter where you were, in what part of the house, or with whom, Boba haunted you like a ghost and the worst thing was you weren’t even sure if it was intentional. You saw him wearing comfy sweaters, debating wine choices with Rob or joking around with poppy and always – always – glancing at you like he couldn’t even help it.

You wanted to hate him for it. You wanted to hate him for the way he had broken your heart and how you still loved him so effortlessly.

You had never really understood what an out-of-body experience was supposed to feel like. Yeah, sure, when Boba and you had gotten hot and heavy there had been a few instances where you felt like your mind was floating above your pleasure-filled body, it never quite rang true.

Well, when Will woke you up the next morning, asking you to back up his suggestion for the day's activity because he wanted to propose to Nat, you knew the entire day would pass you by like you were just a spectator of your own life.

And it did.

You watched Will get down on one knee in front of everyone. You watched Nat gasp in surprise, tears of happiness trailing down her eyes as she accepted with the biggest smile you had ever seen. Everyone was so happy and you wanted to think you were too. And you were. Somewhat.

But you couldn’t help but ask yourself if that would have been in your and Boba’s future if you had stayed together. If something like marriage was still in your future, even if it wasn’t with Boba. But did you even want to marry anyone that wasn’t him?

Poppy and Rob got out the prosecco and as Boba hugged his daughter and Will, his eyes met yours and you imagined seeing the same questions in his eyes that were in yours. That made it even worse.

You were all squeezed into the living room, a fire roaring in the heart and loud jazzy Christmas music playing as Nat stood next to you, showing you how her engagement ring twinkled in the firelight. It was truly a beautiful piece of jewellery and Will had chosen it perfectly for his fiancée.

Nodding at whatever she was saying, you forced the corners of your mouth upwards. The back of your neck prickled and you turned around, finding Boba frowning at you, clearly concerned. In this room full of people, he was still the only one who could spot your fake smile.

“I need to get something to drink,” you mumbled to a still-talking Nat, turning on your heel and escaping into the dark kitchen.

The feeling in your chest grew heavier with every step you took and you swore you couldn’t breathe, your vision going black for a moment. Was this what a panic attack felt like?

You opened the fridge, the blue light a welcome sight and you breathed in the cold air, closing your eyes and thinking. It would all be okay. It had to be.

“Are you okay?”

You flinched, shutting the fridge door and turning around. You wanted to say Yes, thank you for asking before smiling and going back to the living room and pretending as if nothing had ever happened. But somehow, seeing him stand in front of you, a symbol for the biggest what if, the biggest regret, the stand-in for the life you did not have but wanted to have, so badly, with him, it messed with your brain. There was no other explanation for what happened next.

“I loved you, you know?” you burst out, immediately wishing you could take it back when you saw the way his eyes widened. Your breath caught in your throat.

There they were. Words that floated between the two of you that could never be taken back, that had opened you up to him shooting the final shot, throwing you over the cliff, stomping on your offered heart and shattering it into a thousand pieces that you would pick up and glue together just to offer it again.

Because there was no denying now that no matter how much time had passed, you would always love him.

“I know,” he replied, quietly, “I love you too.”

Words were stuck in your throat, building up into a mass that made you feel like you couldn’t breathe anymore. It felt like something was stuck in your throat – your heart, maybe – and all you could hear was I loved you too. But that wasn’t what he had said, was it?

Before you got your mouth to work again, Poppy came in, her presence like a shock of cold water on your system. “Boba, could you help Rob with the tree? I think it might be a two-men-job.”

“I need to go,” he said, still only looking at you, and he followed her out.

“Yeah,” you breathed, watching him leave the kitchen, “Leave me.”

You took the first opportunity to leave, mumbling something about a migraine after dinner, before you hurried up the steps and into the sanctuary of your room. You sat down on the bed and didn’t move, simply letting yourself cry to your heart’s content because there was nothing, no thought, no idea, nothing, that could keep you from feeling like you had just lost everything.

You didn’t have any more strength in you to deal with this and you doubted you had had any strength coming into this. All you wanted was Boba but life just … it just didn’t work.

Maybe you weren’t meant to be after all.

What must be hours later, a knock on your door alerted you before the door already opened and a familiar redhead appeared in your room. In her hand, she held a bowl with chocolate mousse and tears stung your eyes again because she was such a good friend and she didn’t even know and –

“I am so sorry,” you cried, hastily wiping at your cheeks, “I am so happy for you, Nat, truly, I didn’t want to ruin –“

“It’s because of my dad, isn’t it?”

You froze. “What?”

“Because of Boba,” she clarified, her voice careful, and set the plate down on the dresser.

You could feel the blood leave your face, all of it racing to your heart that was pumping so fast it felt like it would burst inside your chest. You felt faint. “Nat, I’m so sorry,” you said numbly, your voice hoarse, “I – “

“Don’t … Don’t say anything, please,” she interrupted you, taking a shaky breath, “I think it's about time that I confess something to you.”

It was the middle of the night when she was done talking. You hadn’t said anything, feeling like a wall had just collapsed on top of you and you just sat there. And then she sat there, tears in her eyes like she was the one who had been betrayed by her very best friend.

“It was you?” you swallowed, “It … You knew? All this time.”

“I know and I – I am so sorry. You two are so miserable without each other and it is all my fault but I just – I felt like you were betraying me. But now that I know I want this happiness for you too and if it is with my dad then so be it, I mean I, … I really hope you can forgive me.”

Suddenly it all seemed too much. The ring on her finger screamed at you, rubbing under your nose how happy she was and that it was exactly this happiness that she had destroyed for you.

“I – I need to go,” you heard yourself say, already standing in front of the door.

Nat jumped up, “No, please wait!”

You ripped the door open, rushing down the hallway in a blind rage to just get away.

“Is everything okay?” That was Will. Will who was still friends with John. John who had only called you because Nat told him to. Because Nat knew. She had always known.

She called your name but you did not look back, rushing towards the stairs and bumping into a warm body.

Why did everything need to be so mall?

Warm hands settled on your upper arms. “What’s going on?” a concerned voice asked and hearing his voice now made you feel both worse and safer. Stars, you wanted to cuddle into him and escape the madness that was this day.

“I need to go,” you brought out instead, highly aware of Will’s confused stare on your back.

“No, c’mon, please let us talk!” Nat was closer now and you didn’t know what you would do if she managed to catch up with you.

Suddenly you were a few steps down the stairs, a large body covering yours from her gaze. “I think maybe that is not a good idea.”

“Dad, you have no idea –“

“I think I do,” he said, his voice unwavering and you blinked in the half-dimmed light, taking in the curve of his broad shoulders and Nat’s face you could only see parts of, “And I think your friend needs some time.”

She didn’t say anything but you also did not give her a chance too. You hurried down the steps, almost missing the last one because of how eager you were to finally get out. You did not bother to turn on the light, knowing your boots were the ones on the very left and you hopped on one foot, trying to stuff the leg of your jeans into the leather.

A shadow fell over you and you did not need to look up to know who it was.

“I am coming with you,”, he said, the car keys already dwarfed in his big hand, “you are in no condition to go anywhere on your own.”

You did not protest.

To be honest, you were relieved. Your mind was reeling, you felt like you had lived fifty years in the last twenty-four hours and you just … you just needed the familiar comfort that was him.

It was eerily quiet outside. And cold. So fucking cold. He made it a point not to touch you but you still imagined feeling the ghost of his hand on your back, leading you to his car. He opened the door for you and you slipped inside, immediately assaulted by the smell of his cologne and the sheer domesticity of it all.

Boba remained quiet as he started to drive and you appreciated him letting you your space. Because as soon as you somehow were able to form a coherent thought, panic filled you because Boba did not know. Or did he? Would you have to tell him that it was Nat’s involvement all along that had gotten you into that fateful fight years ago? Would it even matter to him?

When the car stopped, you looked up, trying to recognize the place you were at and immediately let out a sad, broken laugh.

“How fitting,” you murmured, “Let me guess, we got room 13B?”

Boba smiled sadly, “I never actually stopped the standing reservation,” he took the key out of the ignition, “Never stopped paying it.”

You did not know what to say to it but somehow it felt like a love confession all over again. The snow crunched under his shoes and you shook your head, trying to free your head from the cloudy thoughts that made everything so much harder to bear.

The way to the room caused you flashbacks of all the times you had met up here and you hated how the few steps to the stairs and along the horribly carpeted gallery felt like coming home. It felt comfortable and safe and the way Boba opened the door for you with the smallest smile felt familiar.

He shrugged out of his jacket and put it over the armchair before turning on the heating to full blast. The sound of the AC was loud and jarring but it was exactly what you needed to get you back into reality.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked when you sat down on the bed. You toed off your boots, pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your feet under the duvet. This would be a long night, of that you were sure, and you were tired of always being cold.

Boba followed your example and the mattress dipped when he sat down next to you. You could feel the heat radiating off his body and the wish to cuddle into him was stronger than ever before.

I love you too. I love you too. I love you too. I love you too. I love you too. I love you too. I love you too.

He had said that and he had meant it. He had to have meant it or else he wouldn’t have said it. Boba was many things but he had never maliciously lied to you and he wouldn’t start now. Or were you just imagining things because you were so desperate to be loved by him?

You took a deep breath, fresh tears gathering in your eyes and you started to relay the conversation, the monologue, you had had with Nat. It wasn’t the best moment to talk for you, considering you still hiccupped with tears sometimes or stumbled over words in your haste to get through them without crying. But Boba listened to you and he understood you if the knot between his brows was anything to go by.

His hand was lying between you, looking like it was just waiting for yours to join.

“I am so sorry, I don’t want you to be angry at her,” you trailed off towards the end, frowning, “Or maybe I do. I – I don’t know …”

“I’m not angry,” he said, “I’m just incredibly disappointed in her.”

You laughed, tears sticky on your cheeks. “Sorry,” you sobbed, “That is just the most dad thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“I suppose that’s true,” his lips crooked up, his hand turned his palm up and you hated how that made your heart skip a beat, “But it is how I feel.”

“I never –“ you inhaled sharply, feeling your eyes sting again, “I never thought she knew. I never – What if she had –“

“Would it have made a difference?”

“Yes!” you cried, “Because I never – I never wanted to lose you,” your voice grew soft, “We could have worked things through we could have – we could still be … happy.”

Boba hummed and you gathered to courage to put your hand in his. For a split second, you were afraid he would pull away but he didn’t. His thick fingers slipped between yours effortlessly and breathing felt a little easier now that he gently squeezed your hand.

“I’ve thought so many times about what happened,” he started slowly, “It was the only thing I could think about for months and if I am really honest, it still haunts me.”

You sniffled, looking up at him through your lashes and he met your gaze and damn it why did his eyes still make your heart skip a beat after all this time?

“I wish I had done a lot of things differently back then,” he continued, never looking away from you and for the first time you imagined seeing him scared, “I should have taken your words at face value, I should have been more open about my fears and I should have … I should have believed you when you told me you didn’t mind my age. And I am – stars, princess, I am so sorry.”

You had cried so much, it felt like there were no more tears to cry. But instead of tears, you needed to spill words now because you could feel this was it. This was the moment you could be

“I would have done a lot of things differently, too,” you whispered hoarsely, clearing your throat before hurriedly continuing, “I would have tried to understand more what is at stake for you, I would have told Josh to fuck off right away,” Boba smiled at that, “I would have told you I love you and that – that I am willing .”

Boba shuffled closer, his shoulder bumping into yours and you smiled when he raised your joined hands to his knee.

“Ask me why I sold the house.”

You tried to calm your racing heart. “Why did you sell the house?”

“I could not bear to be in a city without you in it,” he confessed, “To be fair, it’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you but I – I couldn’t stay in a place where there was no future with you.”

“Boba –“

His fingers squeezed yours before letting you. You watched as he stood up from the bed, walking around to stand in front of you and you gaped up at him, turning to sit on the edge. He held out his hand you gave it to him without a thought, his rough fingertips brushing over your knuckles.

“I never stopped,” he stated, his voice sounding as strong as when he had told Nat off, “I never stopped loving you, princess.”

“Me neither,” you murmured, hardly believing what was happening and you stood up as well, the edge of the mattress still in the back of your knees but you needed to be close to him. And you needed to stand because this was … this was important and you needed him to know and –

“Look where we stand, princess,” he whispered with a smile, his chest touching yours.

You looked up. Damn and motels and their cheese decorations.

“I heard it’s incredibly bad luck not to kiss under a mistletoe,” you breathed, unable to hide a teary smile as you felt his breath on your face. He was so close.

“We wouldn’t want that, now do we?” he replied with a grin, leaning even closer. His nose brushed against yours, his fingers brushing over your wrist until he could hold your hand and tug and –

Stars, you had missed kissing him.

It felt like coming home: his chapped lips against yours, the stubble on his jaw, the warmth of his body seeping through your clothes, his tongue and you couldn’t help but sigh into him. He rumbled, one hand coming up to your back and holding you against him and you smiled, trying to press even closer to him.

Yes, kissing him felt like finally coming out of the cold and putting on a warm blanket.

Boba pulled away and you both breathed heavily. “I love you,” you grinned, squeezing his hand, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he murmured, kissing you softly, “I never stopped loving you.”

He held your hand and he didn’t let go, his thick fingers squeezing yours so tightly as if he was afraid you would disappear into thin air at any moment.

“Wanna sit down?” you asked, slowly sinking to the bed and Boba followed, leaning over you until your back hit the mattress.

His hand let go of yours as he supported himself above you and there was something so beautiful about finally feeling his body rest on yours again. He leant down, kissing you again though he did pull away before things could get more heated. You pouted, running your hand over his chest and belly and relishing in the tingle you felt all over your body.

“Wanna take things slow,” he whispered into your ear, his nose brushing down your jaw before he planted a kiss on your neck, “I want to do things properly, this time around.”

“There is nothing proper about us,” you teased him, kissing his scratchy jaw and the rumble he let out made your core ache.

He chuckled and rolled off of you and you turned on your side, his arm immediately coming around your middle to hold you to him. It was like no time had passed at all between now and the last time you had been this close, your bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

“Not yet,” he admitted, “But there could be.”

Not knowing what he meant by that, you just looked at him, resting your hand on his chest.

“I got a job offer by the coast,” he revealed quietly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and you closed your eyes.

“Where?” you asked, hoping to not sound too eager, “I mean, uh, what city?”

He chuckled, his finger tracing over your cheek, “I think you know which one.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you opened your eyes. Boba was smiling now, properly, and his eyes were shining with mirth and he was serious and he wanted what you wanted. You could not help the excited laugh that bubbled up in your throat and soon, he joined in, peppering kisses all over your face.

“What do you say we start the new year together?” he suggested, his arm tightening around your middle, “On the same side of the country?”

The house was completely dark when you came back and you did not know if that should make you feel better or not.

Boba had given you his jacket, insisting that your thin pyjama shirt wouldn’t do anything to stave off the cold and he was right. Besides, you loved seeing him in his dark green sweater. Both of you were silent during the ride back but this time not because of tension or the accumulation of years of hurt but because you were so content.

He was holding your hand, his thumb occasionally running over your palm and you glanced at him every few seconds, smiling because this was the start of something precious. Something you would fight for forever if that was what it took.

The door squeaked as you entered the hallway, toeing off your boots and you could hear Rob snoring in the bedroom.

“I’m gonna get changed,” you murmured, suddenly feeling a little shy, “Will I see you at breakfast?”

Boba hummed, stepping closer to you and kissing you again, his fingers tapping your chin. “You know it, princess,” he rumbled and you kissed him again. After all, you had some catching up to do.

It was when you were both ready to go to your respective rooms that Boba posed the question you had tried to avoid. “Do you want to talk to Nat today?” he asked quietly, careful not to wake anyone.

You thought about it for a moment, your shoulder falling when you realized, “I – I don’t know. It’s all still fresh.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” Boba assured you, pulling you in for a hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “We have time.”

And for the first time in weeks, you could relax because you knew he was right.

You had time.

There was no question that it was the best and the worst holiday of your life at the same time. You went from spending time with Nat and avoiding Boba to spending time with Boba and avoiding Nat – an arrangement that you were sure hurt her as much as it did you. But she accepted that you needed time and despite your unsure feelings, you managed to stay civil until Will drove you to the airport for your flight home.

But the year that followed was, without the question, the best one.

In January, Boba accepted the job offer and moved to the coast, only a five-minute drive away from where you lived. You texted every day and set up regular date nights and although it felt like you had simply continued where you left off, you both made it a point to talk things through, several times, until you were ready to face the new future together.

In February, he surprised you with a weekend trip to a family-led boutique hotel. You spent the entire weekend locked up in the bedroom, too busy exploring each other’s bodies to really care for what was going on in the outside world. You ordered room service, watched TV in just your bathrobes and

In March, Nat sent you a tentative text message. You replied just as tentatively. Boba set you up as his emergency contact which you found out when his company car was involved in an accident and the secretary automatically called you, causing you to have five heart attacks all at once. (He was fine, he assured you multiple times but you still got an uncomfortable feeling when he would have to drive somewhere.)

In April, Will and Nat married. Boba attended the festivities and although you were specifically named as his Plus One, you only managed to bring yourself to attend the service, clutching Boba’s hand the entire time who never left you alone – just like he had promised. As Nat passed you on the aisle, she smiled at you and you smiled back. It would take time, you realized, to ever get back to the kind of friendship you had before. But it was not impossible.

In June, you surprised a reluctant Boba with a trip to the animal shelter. The plan had been to find a pet for you but after five minutes of Boba playing with one of the older and, according to staff “shyer”, dogs, you realized that if anyone was going to leave with a pet, it would be him. And so, it came that Boba adopted an adorable American Staffordshire Terrier named Rancor.

In July, you, Rancor and Boba joined the family on the yearly summer holiday. It wasn’t even a question of whether or not you would share a room and you secretly relished in John’s shocked face when Boba kissed you demonstratively. (He insisted he wasn’t jealous but you swore he threw the man a dark look more than once. And so did Rancor.)

In August, you and Boba bought a house to make into a home. It had a garden for Rancor to run around in and enough rooms to serve as an office and, as Boba teased one evening, nurseries. Countless trips to furniture stores, home depots and gardening centres later, you knew that this was the man you wanted to spend your life with.

In September, a crying Nat called you, causing both of you to panic and Boba already googling for flight tickets until she could finally form words and reveal that she was pregnant and already four months along. Boba got a bit pale around the nose when you teasingly called him grandpa but things got better when he realized he could call Poppy grandma just to get on her nerves.

In October, you and Nat talked for three hours on the phone. Many tears and apologies later, you felt like you had finally some closure on a part of your life that had dragged on for way too long. Were things great between you? No, but they were a start that you felt good about.

In November, you and Boba attempted to make your own Thanksgiving dinner which failed catastrophically and with a barely thawed turkey in the sink, Boba made the executive decision to order pizza while you tried to save the apple pie. The night ended with you relaxing on the couch, his arm around your shoulders, your head on his chest and Rancor snoozing away at the end of the couch.

But it was December that really made things come full circle. Because when you hosted your first Christmas party in your house, everybody came to visit, sharing the holiday spirit and exchanging thoughtful gifts and making you feel even more welcome in the family. A pregnant Nat helped you choose some fun activities.

And as the whole town started a countdown to the new year, Boba, whispering in your ear, his arms around you as you looked at the sky in anticipation, asked you to marry him.

#maybege writes #boba fett x reader #boba fett x fem!reader #hot dad!boba vibes

139 notes · View notes

reluctant-mandalore · 5 months

Text

Fictober Day 2: Dancing

After a job Boba and Ann go to celebrate at a cantina. Ann is into dancing, Boba is into watching.

Warnings: established relationship (sort of its complicated), alcohol consumption, references to sex (none is actually described or shown), fluff, flirting, set pre-sarlacc, soft boba, hint of jealous Boba, aro4aro relationship, not beta read Pairing: Boba Fett x Original Character (oc: Anneliese LeClaire) Wordcount: 3,433 a/n: "hey cy did you know its December-" shhhh time is an illusion. And I am slowly working back into writing more often (mental illness is a bitch). Also this is my first time actually posting a fic for Ann and Boba. Sometime next year I would like to finally begin posting the official longfic I've been working on for them, but till then y'all will get some one shots here and there. Important things to note: Ann and Boba are both written as aro and they're in an aro4aro relationship. Ann is taller (5'10) then Boba, I wrote Boba as being 5'7 (based off Temuera's height). This one shot is also set pre-sarlacc, some years before he falls in. Ok thats it. Enjoy boba being soft and sweet with ann. :3 Translations: Mesh'la = Beatuiful, Permacrete = concrete

The cantina has an awful smell. It’s an atrocious blend of booze and sweat that makes his nose scrunch with disgust. Though the music is somehow worse. It's too loud in his ears, blasting its obnoxious tunes while the colourful lights above flash to its beat. This place is more of a nightclub than a regular old cantina in his opinion. Neither of which he really enjoys on a good day if he’s honest, but still he sits there anyway. A cup of whiskey is in his hand, and his helmet set to the side, while his eyes are trained on nothing but her.

Ann is on the dance floor. There’s a smile on her face, and her own drink in hand. Her body moves and sways to the tunes almost naturally. Weaving among the others on the floor like there’s nowhere else she belongs.

She almost seems to thrive here. Unlike him who seems out of place, and preferring to sit in a dark corner at a lonely table. He just doesn’t understand the appeal that places like this give. He really isn’t a fan of blaring music and sweaty bodies in his personal space bumping together. Unless it's among the sheets at least—and even that he’s only fond of sometimes.

It doesn’t take long for someone to take an interest in her. Someone other than Boba of course. Someone always does when they come to these places. And he can feel himself pause mid-sip, as he watches the person move in closer to her. A bit too close for his liking. The two of them begin to dance together rather than alone, and he can’t help but watch a little more intensely now as they do. A pit of jealousy bubbling in his gut that he tries his best to ignore.

Boba knows he could just look away. Knows he doesn’t have to watch. Knows he has no reason to be jealous. Dancing like this means nothing to Ann. She barely even lets the other person in close enough touch. But despite the jealousy he fails miserably to keep back, there’s also something he finds enjoyable in watching her dance. He’s not even sure what it is. Maybe it has to do with how the lights reflect in her eyes as she laughs, or how beautiful her body moves with the others around her. But maybe, it is sometime else entirely.

Maybe it's because as he watches, he imagines it's him dancing with her instead.

Ann notices him watching, because of course she does, and she gives a smile. A teasing, but tiny grin, that's meant for him alone. It's a look that calms his envious thoughts, and leaves him suddenly feeling hot under his armor. The bit of jealousy he had fading into a rolling wave of desire. He almost smiles back. Almost. But he takes another sip of his drink instead. Let’s the bittersweet taste settle on his tongue to try and wash away his thoughts.

It doesn’t really work of course. Boba goes back to watching. Goes back to wondering—dreaming—about what it would be like if he was the one with her instead. He can’t seem to stop himself. Can’t stop the thoughts of how he’d look out there with her. How close she’d be to him. How breathtaking she looks. It's all swarming there in his head. A never ending tumble of thoughts and emotions that keeps him captivated with her.

At some point the person dancing with her leans closer to whisper in her ear, and suddenly he finds himself fighting off the subtle burn of jealousy again. He doesn’t even need to hear their words to know what they’re asking of her. He can’t even blame them for trying their luck, because he knows if he was in their position he would do the same. He’d honestly be surprised if they didn’t try to get Ann to come home with them that night. Not after how gorgeous she looked dancing in the nightclub lights.

Though unlike them, at least he knows he would actually have a chance. And that thought alone is what keeps him seated in place. Helps the jealousy fade again. Reminds him that he doesn't have to worry. Not with Ann. It makes him go back to just simply watching. Waiting for the answer from her that he already knows is coming.

Ann seems to say something back to them. Something he can’t quite make out, but he figures it out quickly when the dance partner finally looks his way. He almost wants to laugh at the face they make. Their smug grin drops immediately and the colour drains from their face. Most do once they realize just who exactly she’s with. His name carries weight, and if they don’t know him by name, they know him by face. Well. Helmet. And he’s made sure that trusty bucket of his is still clearly in sight.

The rumours about them have become more prevalent as of late too. People have begun to learn about Ann and Boba being… together. So to speak. The longer they worked alongside each other, the quicker the whispers among the criminal world about them being a couple had spread. Rumours about how they were more than just work partners catching before either could stop them in their place.

Boba doesn’t know how he feels about it all. At the start he hated them. Found Ann pretty annoying. Found the whispers about them together even more annoying. She was just a work partner. A skilled bounty hunter who he respected, and found he could deal with despite the irritability she caused. That was it. That's all they were.

Now it’s different of course. They’re a thing, but they’re also not a thing. Neither of them really know what they are to the other person. Especially not Boba. Most people would probably consider them lovers, and in a sense he supposes they are right to think so, but lovers feel almost too formal. But just friends? That seems to be too little. And just work partners at this point was just insulting. The bond they shared simply couldn’t be explained as being romantic or platonic. It was different. Unique. Something he hadn’t ever had with another person before.

Boba doesn’t really know what they are, but whatever it is makes Ann his, and makes him theirs. And he supposes that’s all that really matters. At least to them. To him.

The person Ann was with has vanished by the time he looks back, and she’s already returning to the table. Sliding into the seat across from him, with her cheeks flushed and a little grin on her face. “You scared away my dance partner.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gives her a little smile in return, and taps his finger on the table. “I’ve just been here minding my business, and sipping at my drink.”

She only hums at first. Stealing his cup right from out of his hands before taking a sip herself. He doesn’t really mind. He can’t really when he sees how her nose scrunches at the taste. A deep chuckle leaving him at the sight.

“Whiskey? Again?” She grumbles. Disgusted.

“Of course.”

“You need better taste.” She lets him take the glass back, as he hums amused at her words.

“I think my taste is just fine.” He murmurs, glancing over the rim of the drink to flicker his gaze over her form, before he goes and takes another sip. She doesn’t seem to notice his once over, or if she does she doesn’t say so. “You all tired out?”

“I think I have a few more songs left.”

“Want me to get you another drink then?” He offers, and she agrees with a nod. He waves down a waiter. Orders another one for both of them. Something sweet and just barely alcoholic for her. She’s had more than enough to drink tonight, and he’s thankful she doesn’t seem to protest at the choice he makes. When he’s done and the waiter leaves he turns back to her. “Anything else I can do for you, mesh’la?”

The nickname rolls off easily from his tongue. She doesn’t know what it means, or at least he believes she doesn’t seem to know. He wouldn't be able to bare the thought if she did. Doesn’t think he could ever handle the teasing she’d subject him to if she found out he’s been calling her beautiful this whole time. He’d honestly rather die than have to deal with that.

She seems to consider his words for a moment, before finally leaning forward to rest on her arms. Her smile bright, and almost suggestive. “Well, you could come dance with me?”

It’s a question they’re both familiar with. One she always makes sure to ask when they’re out together and she’s in a dancing mood. Though his answer never seems to change. No matter how many times they come to these places, and no matter how desperately they both want him to say yes, his reply is always the same. Always.

“No.” He shakes his head, glancing down to his almost empty drink to avoid her gaze. He really needs another with the night they’re having. “You know I don’t dance.”

She hums again. Gives a little shrug. “Suit yourself.”

And that’s that. She’s not upset or mad. It’s just simple acceptance. An understanding that only she could ever seem to have for him.

When the waiter comes back with what he ordered for them, she stays to drink a little with him. Chatting about this and that. Nothing really in particular. It isn’t until she’s done her drink where she goes to leave again. Standing, she leans in close to him. Catching him off guard. She kisses his cheek before he can begin to question her over it. Her lips grazing his ear as she whispers.

“Enjoy the show Boba.”

Then with that Ann is gone again. They’re back to the dance floor before he can say anything else. Not even giving him any chance to deny that he’s been watching her. He finds himself feeling warm under his layers again. His desire still flickering in his gut. And despite it all he does exactly as she says. He begins watching her again. He enjoys the show she puts on for him. Sipping at his drink and eyeing her up as she dances the night away.

Thankfully it’s only a few more songs before they both leave. He wasn’t sure how much more he could have handled that place if he was being honest. Even if he was enjoying watching her.

Ann and him walk back to the ship in a comfortable silence. Not a word to be exchanged. She’s leaning closer to him. Fingers brushing with his as they walk, but never daring to take his hands into hers. She would never do so in public. Always making sure to never overstep with him. Something he’s always more than appreciated.

When they finally get back to the ship Bubbles the loth cat greets them happily. Meowing and rubbing against their legs, before Ann picks him up to coo at him. They both need to shower. So he lets her go first. He usually does. Sometimes they’ll shower together, but he doesn’t think he has the energy to deal with showering with Ann tonight. He has a feeling if he does it’ll end in more than just getting clean. And as fun as that can be, his exhaustion from their earlier job, combined with the alcohol raging through his system, is now proving much stronger. Maybe another night he’ll join her, but for now he just wants to relax.

When she’s in the refresher, he starts his typical nighttime routine. He has a list of things he does before bed every day. Doesn’t feel good going to sleep unless he does it. He does a quick check of the supplies, looks at the status of the ship, and then makes sure everything is where it's supposed to be on board. Once satisfied with that he goes to his weapon racks and storage. Puts away most of what he has on him before moving on to his room to start removing his armor. Making sure to give Bubbles a pat on his head in passing.

Once Ann is done it's his turn for a shower, and he couldn’t be happier for it. The warm water brings a much needed relief to his aching muscles, and the steam seems to clear his head. He can't help but stand there under the spray for a moment. He can still smell her soap in the air. It’s some type of flower. Rose, he thinks, though he can’t really be sure. He’s not exactly a floral expert after all. But whatever it may be is unmistakably her, and it has him wanting to finish cleaning himself quickly to join her back in the other room.

Ann is on his bed when he finally gets out. She sleeps more in here with him than she ever does in her own bunk now. She’s braiding her hair at the moment, and he can’t help but notice she’s wearing one of his shirts again. Bubbles is curled next to her on the bed. Already fast asleep. His soft little purrs echoing quietly in the room.

He gets himself changed into some sleepwear. Just a simple shirt and pants. Doesn’t even bother to hide himself from her as he does. They both have already seen every inch of each other by this point. He doesn’t see the point in being shy now, and he can’t deny that he likes feeling her gaze shift to him as he dresses.

Boba spares her a glance over his shoulder, and she looks away. Acts as if she wasn’t just watching him change. It seems like he isn’t the only one who likes to watch the other, and he can’t help but smirk a little at the thought. He goes back to finishing his nightly routine after he’s done. Double checks that his armor and gear is stored away how he likes it, before doing his final round of the ship. It's like second nature at this point. The way he does this every night, and knows exactly how everything ought to be on board.

When he's back in the room again she’s now resting much more comfortably on the bed. She’s leaned back against a pillow while on her datapad. Reading probably if he were to guess. She likes reading. Does so every night before sleeping. He doesn’t dare ask what it’s about. The last time he did he had to listen to her ramble about the creation and history behind permacrete for hours. And as much as he enjoys seeing how excited she gets to talk about these things with him, he can’t say he wants to listen to something like that again right before sleeping.

Usually at this point he’d have her shift over so he can join her on the bed. It's kind of cramped if he’s honest. His sleeping compartment was clearly not meant for two people. They make it work though, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like getting to be snuggled closely to Ann every night. But tonight something stops him before he goes over. There’s a weird feeling in his gut. Like something just isn’t quite right.

Boba mentally checks off everything from his routine in his head again. He hasn’t missed anything. Doesn’t think so at least. He never misses anything. But still he can’t shake that feeling. Ann must notice his unease too. She glances up at him from the datapad. Her brows creased as she eyes him.

He decides to do another walkthrough. Maybe if he does he’ll figure out what’s wrong. But he doesn’t even get to the door of his room before he stops again. From the corner of the eye he’s caught sight of his stereo. It’s an old thing that he surprises that still works. He plays it sometimes when working around the ship. Glancing from it to Ann, who is once again back to reading whatever is on her datapad, seems to make everything click into place. Suddenly the weird feeling is beginning to make sense.

Boba doesn’t really know what’s come over him, but before he can stop himself, he’s stepping over to the stereo to turn it on. The music is slow as it starts. It’s soft, gentle, and it’s nothing like what was playing at the cantina that night. It’s exactly what he needs though, and when he looks to her again to catch her gaze, he knows it's something she needed as well.

She raises a brow at him with a little grin on her face. He doesn’t say anything. Neither does she. He just holds out a hand to her. A silent question that both of them already know the answer to.

“I thought you didn’t dance.” She teases him, but still she takes his hand. Datapad already long forgotten on the bed.

Boba only lets out a huff at her words as he pulls her close to his chest. His hands slip down to her hips, while her own go to rest on his forearm. He can’t help but give her a gentle squeeze, before they settle into the music easily. Swaying together to the beat, and bodies pressed flushed together.

The two move like this for a while. Sometimes he twirls her, and she giggles, before he pulls her back in closely. Rocking with her to a gentle beat. At some point they both look at each other. Their noses brushing before their lips finally meet. The kiss is soft. It’s sweet. The thundering of his heart is so loud in his ears, and he briefly wonders if she can hear it too. Hopes she can’t, because if she can he would never live it down. He already knows that she would tease him mercilessly for the rest of his days.

When they pull back from the kiss he allows his lips to trail down over her exposed skin. Kissing and nipping at her shoulder gently. He can’t help but nuzzle himself into the crook of her neck. Pressing another soft kiss along the scarred skin there as he does. Her shoulder quickly becoming a pillow for him to lay his head against, as he can’t help but slump against her. He feels so very tired, and she is so very comfy. His eyes are heavy, and his body is sore. He wants nothing more than to lay down with her in their bed, but he still finds himself not wanting to leave her embrace quite yet.

“Someone's tired.” She whispers with a gentle hum. Her fingers coming to brush through his still damp hair.

Boba can only seem to grunt in reply at first. They’re still dancing, though they sway more gently than before now. Only little rocking movements led by Ann that has him almost lulled to sleep against her shoulder right there. At some point they stop swaying altogether. Just standing there with him snuggled into her embrace as the music still plays softly in the background.

Boba could spend the rest of his life here he thinks. Wrapped in Ann’s arms without a care in the Galaxy. Her toying with his hair and pressing sweet little kisses to his temple. In their arms he doesn’t have to worry about anything. Not clients or targets. Not the reputation he’s built and has to uphold. Here he isn’t Boba Fett, the fearsome and notorious bounty hunter. No, here with Ann he is just Boba. He’s just himself. And that is something he can only ever comfortably be with her.

After some time there, Ann goes to pull away, but his grip holds fast. His arms around her tight. When he looks up to her he sees how she smiles again. It’s cheeky, and there’s a teasing glint to her eyes that makes him warm under her gaze.

“A little longer.” He says quietly. Mumbling as he nuzzles back into her neck. “Please.”

She only hums back at first. Presses another kiss to his temple as she does. So soft and sweet. Her voice coming out just barely above a whisper when she finally replies back to him.

“A little longer.”

And with those words from her they're swaying again.

#boba fett #boba fett x oc #boba x oc #oc fic #star wars #cys fictober #fictober2023 #cys fictober 2023 #my fics #oc things #oc: ann #boba x ann #star wars fanfic

8 notes · View notes