#boba fett can get it

[acatalystrising]

I had to make it. Had to.

I mean…🥰🫠

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

Maybe this is too much with your professional life, but I’d love to hear about how Boba got his bantha… wrangling, rodeo stuff… maybe he’s telling reader who’s an animal lover?

LET’S GOOOOOOOO!

Smut under the cut.

You were under him with your legs around his torso and your fingertips tracing shapes across his back. He’d shed much of his armor, but not the dark cowl necked undergarments. You wore a gossamer sleep shift made of the softest Alderaanian shimmersilk with fine lace details fit for a princess.

“Tell me about breaking banthas to ride.”

In these quiet moments late at night after patrols, you always asked about his life before you. Sometimes you asked about his days as a bounty hunter. Sometimes about his childhood. Tonight your curiosity led you to his time with the Tuskens. Boba, lost in the sound of your heart beating against his cheek, raised himself up enough to palm one of your breasts and take the other into his mouth. You squealed and thumped him on the back with the heel of your hand.

“Ah, brat!”

In a fluid motion with surprising grace and speed, he pinned both of your wrists above your head with one hand and grabbed your jaw with the other.

“You want to know how we saddle broke our banthas, mesh’la?”

You bit your lip and nodded. The hand on your jaw moved down to his belt and he worked the buckle as he spoke.

“We started them carrying light loads as calves, throwing a blanket across their backs as they ate and getting them accustomed to the feel of a bit of weight on their backs.”

He freed himself from his pants and your felt the head of his erection, swollen and ready, teasing you.

“When they had a good curl to their horns, that meant their bones were strong enough to carry a saddle, a man, and all his weapons. But we did not just climb on to their backs. They needed to be properly trained first.”

With the emphasis, he pushed just the tip into you. You gasped and whined.

“Obedience and loyalty, that’s what a Tusken wants from his bantha.”

Boba thrust hard into you then and you buried your face in his neck to stifle your moans.

“We feed them well, protect them, and care for them. In exchange, we expect them to behave themselves under saddle.”

The rasp in his voice became more pronounced as he snapped his hips into you. You moaned into his shoulder and he fisted your hair with his free hand, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“A good bantha comes when called and stands willingly to be saddled and mounted.”

Boba pulled out of you and flipped you onto your belly, pulling you up by your hips and positioning himself to take your from behind.

“A sure footed bantha with a amiable disposition is worth breeding to keep the lineage strong.”

You keened when he entered you and met his hips enthusiastically. He chuckled as he kneaded your ass cheeks and appreciated the way you looked from this angle. Boba reached down to play with your clit while he thrust into you, and soon he had you coming undone around his cock.

You were practically limp by the time he came inside of you. He remained still afterwards, drawing circles in the small of your back with his thumbs as his cock softened inside of you.

As he laid down beside you and pulled your back into his chest, you felt him muzzle the back your neck.

“Next time, tell me how you broke the rancor to ride.”

[ohyousillything]

Boba is small and obnoxious, in a way only small tubies can be, squirming and thrashing around in his crib as he wails. He’s been told that Boba is denominated “a toddler”, by nat-born standards. CC-2224 is not impressed.

“What does the word ‘Boba’ mean,” he asks. The word has been bothering him for some time now.

Jango doesn’t raise his eyes from the datapad he’s frowning at, “It’s an old family name.”

CC-2224 considers this. Boba continues to wail at the injustices of the world. CC-2224 is sympathetic to that, at least.

And then the question pops in his head like an armed grenade.

“Can I have a name?” he asks.

Jango looks up at him, both eyebrows raised up to his hairline. There's a considering silencie, and then he says, like he's already regretting it, “You could.”

CC-2224 stares at him expectantly. Boba wails, mostly ignored.

Jango snorts and shakes his head, letting his attention fall back on his datapad, “You’ll have to come up with one on your own, kid. I’m shit at naming things,”

CC-2224 frowns, looking down at Boba, who’s finally beginning to realize no one paying much attention to his crying and he might need to adapt his strategies.He makes grabby fingers at CC-2224, who watches impassively.

Making an impulsive decision, he reaches into the crib and pulls the baby out, holding him at eye level like a hide up for inspection.

“I like the word kote,” CC-2224 says.

“Very modest,” Jango snorts, but he sounds approving. Newly christened Kote thinks he wasn’t looking for approval, but its nice getting it anyway.

Boba sneezes on his face, and the universe shifts.

Kote's never seen the sun, but someday he'll understand this moment feels like sunrise.

[mando-din-lorian]

Bobadin Brain go VROOM

[yamineftis-art]

Dincember day 18 “Joy”

Their separation anxiety is probably through the roof now, not even uncle Boba and aunt Fennec can do some something about it lmao. And yes helmet less Din just cuz I wanted to draw his pretty face.

Idk if I’ll be able to draw more Dincember prompts but I’ll try my best! Miss them ;;

[omgahgase]

dinluke and grogu visits boba on tatooine because, honestly? din misses his friend. and luke is nothing but indulgent to his boyfriend so of course he tags along. ("yes, i promise not to fight fett. this time. unless provoked. if he provokes me again, din, then i'm fighting him.") tho, luke is unaware of boba's rancor so when they land on boba's property, the rancor—that boba takes on daily walks, the big guy needs his exercise—excitedly charges at grogu.

luke immediately gets flashbacks and ignites his saber, only for din to toss grogu to the damn beast and—why is grogu giggling? and why is the rancor wagging its tail? and why is grogu babbling in that happy tone luke's only ever heard around when he's around his parents? and—

"din, what the fuck is that thing doing to my son?"

"they're hugging, skywalker. it's what friends do—"

"is your name din? no. shut up, fett." luke whips his head to his boyfriend and points to grogu and the rancor as if he's expecting an explanation as to why grogu knows its favorite scratch spot is behind its ears.

he doesn't get an explanation, though. well, nothing more than din simply saying, "grogu and chomp have a long history."

luke...luke really wants din to elaborate on their so called 'long history' bc grogu is now on top of the rancor and tugging on its chains as if he wants it to scale the nearest cliff. which he probably does.

but luke is also fixated on a small detail that sounds too good to be true.

he slowly turns to boba, who's suddenly taken an interest in his sandy boots, and says behind a barely contained laugh, "you named your rancor chomp?"

boba sheepishly kicks at a pebble in such a non boba fett way that luke has never seen before. then, "he...likes to chomp...on things. the kids helped me name him. chomp was the least terrible one." boba coughs into a gloved fist and adds, "it was a vote."

as luke laughs a belly clutching cackle that doubles him over, making din support most of his weight so he doesn't face plant into the sand, he can't help but think that han is going to love this. boba fett, the guy who tried to kill them on more than one occasion, named his rancor chomp, of all names, because his cybernetic teenagers voted on it.

oh, luke can't wait until their next holocall.

[kookyburrowing]

boba fett with an undercut. send post.

[ddeck]

enough time has passed. i think we should give star wars muppets crossover another go

[piedalchemist]

@keldabekush

@baufraus

[constantlymisspelled]

Literally the entire plot of the Long Sunrise, summarised. The Space Wizard, Space Witch, and Space Warlord - a union too powerful for the Empire to handle. They would be too powerful as allies, so Disney kept them enemies...

[Worlds shortest image description - Cal and Merrin beat up an old man. Boba procrastinates, and then helps.]

[acatalystrising]

Alriiiight! As I promised to @daimyosprincess - here at long last is Small Favors! This fic…sheesssshhh, this fic. It almost destroyed me! It’s absolute pure filth borne of one too many days of Boba brain rot, so buckle up, people!

Enjoy the ride! 🫠😉

(Zwei, this basically ended up being dedicated to you after all the lovely prof Boba content you’ve been giving us. I hope it lives up to your expectations! 💚🖤)

TW: NSFW, minors dni. This contains smut - predator/prey, fingering, dirty talk, pre-discussed non-consensual sex, piv, f!receiving, bondage, dom!Boba, pet names, teasing, slight degradation, all the usual suspects 🙃

Small Favors

The day Boba Fett called you a hellion, you were pretty certain it altered your brain chemistry.

To make things worse? He’d said it on his way out of the door, dressed in full armor, heading down to the throne room for yet another day of rulership.

Leaving you alone to ruminate on his words.

That simply wouldn’t do. You tried to be his good girl - lounging on his bed, boredly counting the cracks in the ceiling, doing as you’d been told…but where was the fun in that? You couldn’t help but let your imagination take over, wandering to a particular scenario that had intrigued you as of late.

Oh, the Daimyo was strong. Powerful, capable of overpowering you in seconds despite your best attempts to put up a fight. You could never forget it, no matter how many times he pleasured you senseless. But it made you wonder…

You knew how Boba the Daimyo handled you. But…how would Boba the bounty hunter? The mere thought of your love hunting you down like prey sent thrills coursing through you. But you’d been hesitant to mention it, given how many times he’d openly stated those days were behind him.

But the day was crawling miserably by, the hours even longer, and you needed a distraction. You knew you’d probably regret it, even as you stood and got dressed. But right now, you felt like doing something dangerous.

You were going to play with fire.

-

You were merciful (or smart) enough to wait for his last visitor to leave for the day, but not a moment longer. You struck before he had the chance to get up.

Boba still sat on his throne, powerful thighs spread like an invitation too good to refuse, as you made your way to him. His eyes followed your every step, hunger unabashedly flaring in his amber gaze.

But instead of sitting in his lap as he surely expected, you skirted around the throne, tracing a lone nail along his armor as you walked behind him. He reached for you, but you dodged his fingers with a smirk, tapping the back of his head instead.

“See you’re in a teasing mood.” His voice was gruff, tinged with exhaustion from the day’s tedious events, but you pressed on, still staying right out of his reach.

“I don’t don’t know what you mean,” you tapped his pauldron with another grin, and he shifted to face you, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“What game are you playing at, little one?” He patted his thigh, a command he expected to be obeyed. “Been a long day.”

Oh, you were at war. You knew it was probably in your best interest to do as he said, and he was tired, after all. Perhaps he’d be too tired to play along. But…you didn’t want to throw your plan out the window just yet.

“Maybe you need some exercise. Wouldn’t want your skills to go to waste.” You raised a brow, stepping around the armrest and stopping before him, still out of his direct range. “Why don’t you come get me?”

Boba arched a dark brow, gaze locked on you, completely still. You realized a moment too late he was waiting for you to continue. Either that, or calculating his next move. Probably both. It sent a thrill coursing through you.

“I…”

“What’s this about, hmm?” He crossed his broad arms over his even broader chest, heaving a deep breath that flexed his beskar plates as he fixed you with a quizzical expression bordering intrigue. “Wanna play hard to get? We both know how that would go.”

Ahh, there it was, your golden ticket. That, or the action that would seal your doom. At this point, you’d already committed, and it was too late to back out, now.

“I don’t think you could catch me, old man.” You smirked, hands on your hips, looking at up at him with a raised brow. “You’re a Daimyo now. Lots and lots of sitting. You’re bound to lose your edge.”

Oh, you knew you were asking for trouble.

Boba regarded you evenly, a small smirk working its way on the corner of his lip. Those thick, skillful, beautiful lips. Oh, he did too.

“Is that so?” He looked down at you, eyes narrowing imperceptibly, a teasing lilt to his voice. Ahh, so he was humoring you. Good. “So confident today, mesh’la.”

You had the audacity, or stupidity depending on who you asked, to spit your tongue out at him. Him, Boba Fett. You were probably one of the few that ever could and live to tell the tale.

“Definitely.” You made a dramatic show of shrugging, making sure you leaned forward just enough to let the low neckline of your shirt do its job. “In fact, I don’t even think it would be hard. I’m fast, cunning too. I bet I’d even be able to outsmart the greatest bounty hunter who ever-”

Boba was on you in an instant, and you couldn’t help but loose a shriek as you were pulled into his lap before you could blink. Damn, that was quick. Quicker than when you had anticipated. And you’d thought you’d given him a wide enough berth. He curled his arms around you, pinning you to his armored chest, and pressed his face against your neck, breath hot and scalding - voice low like the thunder of an oncoming storm.

“Wanna flirt with death, little one?” He nibbled your earlobe between his teeth, a low growl rumbling from the depths of his throat, sending heat pooling between your legs. “Fine. But we both know you’re biting off more than you can chew.”

Oh kriffing gods.

You somehow managed to pull two halves of a thought together to form a sentence.

“Wanna test that? Give me two days. Bet you can’t catch me.” You shot him a smirk and shrugged. “Who knows, it could be fun.”

“And what would I get in return?” Boba’s voice was cold, calculating. Calculating, as he watched you, eyes narrowed, studying your blown out pupils and shallow breaths. He had to know you found this arousing. Especially if his hunter senses were still keen.

“Anything,” you confidently met his gaze, even as his grip on you tightened. “Anything you want.”

He fell silent for a moment, chest heaving, heart thundering beneath the beskar. A sly smirk curved on the corner of his lip, accompanied with a cutting gleam in his eyes, and it was then that you realized you were screwed.

“Anything.” He mirrored, dipping his head to meet your neck, sucking a bite on your pulse point. You bit back a moan despite your best efforts, far too keenly aware as one of his hands slid down your side and settling on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your crotch. “But you’ve already given me everything, mesh’la. Why would I risk losing what is already mine?”

Oh maker, he was playing with you. Making this harder than necessary. Punishing you for disobeying him.

“Umm, I…” you swallowed hard as his hand slipped between your legs, stifling another moan as he slowly, gently, torturously caressed your clothed clit. Gods, this wasn’t how you’d expected this to go. “I…just thought it would be fun, ya know? I’m always…maker…always wanting to try new things with you.”

He hummed, kissing your neck again, then your ear, your cheek, and finally your lips. He kissed you like a starved man, greedily nipping at your lips, tongue carving a path into your mouth, claiming you as his. He slipped his hand underneath your pants, your underwear the only barrier, deft fingers already bringing that coiling heat closer to the surface. You bucked against him, chasing his fingers, and he kept you flush with his chest with a growl.

“So my little princess wants to be hunted, hmm?” He had the audacity to lick a stripe up your neck as he circled your arching clit. “She wants to be hunted like a bounty? Like prey? That what you really want, little one? To feel helpless? Trapped with nowhere to go? Darling, I’ll show you helpless.”

You could only nod, a whimper breaking from your throat when he slowed his movements, delaying your pleasure. It nearly brought tears to your eyes. Dammit, this was supposed to be your game, not his, and yet you found yourself unraveling in his clutches yet again.

“Please, please don’t stop. I’ll do anything, I’d let you do anything,” you pressed against him with a whine, meeting his waiting gaze as you made your plea. “Fuck me bound. Even if I said no. Make me yours, break me, ruin me, I don’t care. I just want…wanna…”

You fell silent, embarrassment flaring your cheeks, but you should have known that he wouldn’t let you get away with silence. His free hand gripped your chin and tilted your face up to meet his, just forcefully enough to make his point.

“Say it.”

There was no room for disobedience now. Not when you were literally at his mercy. Not when his command rolled through you, making you tremble with excitement.

“I want you to hunt me.” You forced yourself to speak, even as his eyes darkened, his fingers slowly caressing you again. “Chase me down, and capture me. Use me as you see fit. That’s…that’s what I want.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound echoing on the stone walls, as he zeroed in on your clit again, your pleasure nearly bubbling to the surface.

“So much begging, poor princess,” his voice was a mocking coo as he wrung the pleasure out of you, your vision going white, jaw slack as your orgasm hit with the force of a speeding train. “You’ll have one day, sweet thing. One day to run, and when it’s over, you’ll be begging me to come for you.”

-

You should have believed him.

Should have realized how hard he’d make this for you. But you’d been confidently foolish, going so far as to travel off world to some backwater forest planet on a neighboring system - albeit sparely populated…just to be safe.

But as the minutes had ticked to hours, and hours into the evening, there still had been no sign of your hunter. Whether this was because he was toying with you, or you’d actually given him the slip, you didn’t know - but you pressed on anyway. And as the cerulean sky faded to lilac and crimson hues, you started to worry.

You’d taken a one way trip to get here, even hired a smuggler to fly you. Anything to make it more exciting. More real.

But perhaps you’d gone too far.

You couldn’t help but feel a sliver of worry cut through your chest. Maybe you’d been overconfident, going to such lengths. What if he had lost his edge? What if he couldn’t find you? You’d be stuck alone, on a strange planet, with nothing but a short range commlink to try to call for help.

Stars, you also missed him. Missed his voice, his touch. You’d underestimated how quickly you’d tire of his absence - and as you slipped through the trees, slowing to a leisurely walk, you finally let your guard down, too lost in your whirling thoughts to keep playing the game you insisted on from the start.

The shadows had crept over the foliage, enshrouding the trees in darkness, hiding the armor that would have otherwise glinted in the sun.

You didn’t seem him until it was too late.

Strong arms suddenly wrenched yours behind your back, throwing you off balance and against a nearby tree. Your scream broke the silence, unheard in the miles of uncharted wilderness, unable to break free from the vise like grip clamping down on your wrists.

Boba’s breath flared hot like blaster fire on your cheek as he pushed you against the tree. The rough bark bit into your skin, only a minor fleeing pain, the true cause for your panic currently locking your arms behind your back in a vice like grip.

“Really thought you’d give me the slip, hmm?” His deep voice was rough and staticky with the helmet, tone absolutely deadly as he lifted his binders to your wrists. “Poor little girl.”

You clenched your legs at that - unable to stop the reaction from pushing your brain off the edge, diving into a freefall. Damn it, not yet. You couldn’t let him have his victory this easy. You had to be more of a challenge, flustered brain or not.

“Let. Me. Go!” You twisted in his grasp, tucking up your legs and lashing out with a kick to his chest.

He grunted, the force of your attack pushing him back a few centimeters - just enough space for you to work with. You broke free, heart locked in your throat, and spun around the tree to give you some distance.

You knew you couldn’t win. He was the better fighter in every way - an opponent you’d never once been able to beat, despite your own skill. But just because you knew you were going to lose didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.

The trees whipped past in a blur as you carved a wild, desperate path deeper into the foliage. All was silent save for the crashing of your boots through the fallen leaves - the first warning that you were doomed. The second warning came too late.

A sharp prick bit into your shoulder, and your reflexes reacted too late - a scream stuck in your throat when a whipcord whipped around your body - throwing you to the ground. You could already feel the effects of the tranquillized taking over - vision blurring at the edges even as you still struggled in vain. Even as Boba stepped into your rapidly fading sight, armor glinting in the sunlight.

“Careful, little mouse,” his voice was cutting, sinfully victorious, as he knelt beside you. Kriffing hell, you knew he was smirking underneath that damn helmet. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt. You’re worth more alive.”

You felt the moment the binders slapped on your wrists, sealing your fate…

And then your vision went dark.

-

By the time you awoke, the Slave 1 was already well in sight.

You were slung over Boba’s shoulder like a carcass, arms and legs limply dangling, mind still buzzing from the sedative he’d given you. You tried to open your mouth to speak, but your words were a pathetic slur.

He either didn’t hear you, or was ignoring you. You could feel the strength of him, muscles coiled underneath armor - all sinew and power. He held you with one arm, but you knew you’d never escape, that large gloved hand locked around your neck. You whimpered as the ramp lowered, ushering you both inside - inside to whatever fate he had planned for you. It closed, sealing you both in, and dooming you.

You couldn’t help but feel a thrill as he unceremoniously dropped you to the ground, right outside the cells. You wondered if he’d cage you in one to make the experience more real, but Boba seemed to have other ideas. He grabbed your bound arms and drug you across the floor, ignoring your shrieks of protest when he stopped in the center of the cargo hold.

Boba was quiet - he hadn’t said a word since your capture, and part of you wondered if it was part of the act, or if it was truly upset at the lengths you’d gone to evade him. So, you tried to take matters into your own hands.

“Please, I didn’t do anything wrong. I bet of you, let me go!” Your broken voice was truthfully cracked, parched after your strenuous day. “I’ll do anything, I swear I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Boba Fett had the audacity to ignore you. In fact, he turned his back on you, lifting his gauntlet to key in a code. A mixture of indignation and embarrassment flooded your chest, prompting your next move.

“I know you can hear me under there, bucket head.” You rolled your eyes with a scoff. “Or are you as deaf as you are dumb?”

“You know what you did.” His voice was low like thunder - cutting. A very different tone than the one he oh so often used with you.

This…this was entirely different. Excitement mixed with fear coursed down your spine as he slowly turned, that black t-visor locked on you with deadly focus.

But you wouldn’t be deterred that easily.

“What exactly did I do, huh?” You would have crossed your arms if you could. Instead, you opted to dramatically shrug. “Shouldn’t be too hard to list off my crimes. That is, if big words aren’t too much for a brute like you.”

Boba lunged forward with the speed of a viper, taking you entirely by surprise when his fingers gripped your chin, absolutely wrenching your face up to meet his - albeit hidden behind that helmet. And you were starting to realize why many would find it so terrifying. Heart hammering in your chest, you whimpered when his fingers squeezed your jaw, effectively clamping your mouth shut.

“Mouthy little brat, aren’t you?” His helmet was inches away, your panting breaths fogging the visor as he lowered his hand from your jaw to your neck. “Could just put you away in a cell. Would be what you deserve. But I might have to teach you a lesson.”

Oh gods. You swallowed, hard, and couldn’t resist the urge to wriggle beneath him, breaths growing shallower by the moment.

“You? Teach me a lesson? In your dreams.” You had the audacity to roll your eyes, spitting out your tongue to goad him further. “Sorry, but I have standards. I don’t fuck trigger happy bounty hunters.”

Boba Fett had the audacity to chuckle. A deep, dark chuckle that rumbled through your chest and tingled down your spine. Oh shit…you were in trouble. Big trouble.

“Is that so?” He gave your neck a squeeze, his free hand gripping your binders with another dark snicker. “Poor little kitten’s trying to give me orders? Ironic.”

His hand left your throat, and you yelped as he single-handedly picked you up by the binders, lifting you into the air, and pinned you against the ship’s wall. He magnetized the binders with a soft buzz, then left you dangling there - your toes barely able to touch the floor.

“What the hell?” You huffed, straining to reach the ground, heartbeat hammering so loudly you could barely concentrate, even as you felt his gloved fingers caress your jawline. “Let me down! Stop this, I mean it. Let me go, you kriffing jerk!”

Boba ignored you, helmet titling slowly to the side as if tracking his own journey tracing your neck until it stopped just above your shirt.

“You asked for this, little one.” His tone was impossibly husky, dark and rich like spotchka on the back of your throat. “You have a choice, kitten. You can either fight me, or…”

His hand slipped under your shirt, burrowing beneath your bra, and caressing your nipple with deft, skilled fingers.

“Choose to enjoy it.” He pinched your nipple too hard, and you yelped, thrashing even as he slowed back to a caress. “Your choice - but you’re not getting out of this.”

“N-no, please,” you tried to shy away, but he wouldn’t have it, pinning you to the wall with one hand, the other lifting from your shirt and wandering ever so slowly lower. “I’ll…comply. I’ll do anything. Just…please don’t hurt me.”

He chuckled, hand settling just above your crotch.

“Still giving orders, hmm? That’s not how this works.” He deftly unzipped your pants and slipped his hand into your waiting heat, a dry hiss emitting from his vocoder when he found the evidence of your arousal. “Dirty, dirty girl. Getting off on this? My, my.”

He circled your aching clit, and you cried out, trying to arch against him, breaths coming in near choked gasps as he quickly worked you towards oblivion. Damn, his patience must have flown out of the window. Perhaps he…

Just when you were on the precipice, Boba pulled his hand away. You cried out on frustration, heart pounding like a drum when he dropped his hands to his own pants, pulling his weeping cock free from its confines.

“Little kitten looks like she wants milk.” His voice was a sinister coo as he ran his thick shaft through your slick. “Poor baby.”

You whined - you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your chest when his fingers once again found your clit, wringing your pleasure back to the surface. But yet again, when you were on so close, he pulled away.

“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast.” He raised his hand to your mouth, and you begrudgingly licked your arousal off his gloves. “You’ll come only when I tell you too. Can you be a good girl and do that?”

“Boba…I…” you writhed, pleading, but he promptly removed his hand from your clit with a growl.

“Didn’t give you permission to say my name,” his voice was all thunder and hellfire even as he seated himself in you with one brutal thrust. “It’s Sir to you.”

Your eyes widened, moans bouncing off the durasteel walls as he pounded into you, somehow feeling even bigger than normal. Your hands clattered uselessly against the wall, pleasure arcing up your spine as a steady heat grew in the pit of your stomach.

You cried out when he changed the angle, his cock hitting that deep spot that made you see stars. You writhed against him, legs wrapping around his back, trying to force him deeper. He growled, not slowing his pace in the slightest, and you whimpered when a hand reached up and tweaked a nipple.

“Bo-Sir…I…I’m,” you hated how pathetic you sounded, begging like some weak willed thing. But you felt it, your orgasm approaching like a speeding train, and there would be little you could do to stop it. “I’m…so close. Can I, can I…”

“I don’t know, not sure you deserve it,” he slowed his pace to a torturous crawl, slowly sliding through you, the wet sounds painfully loud in your ears even as you cried out in frustration. “Got your manners yet, little one? Have you learned your lesson?”

Oh Maker, he was torturing you. This was not how you had expected this to go - this was calculated, focused, intentional.

“I’m…I’m sorry. So sorry. P-please…” tears pricked your eyes, and you swore he was driving you absolutely mad, edging you with a calculated skill he hadn’t done before. “I take it all back. I’ll be good…I’ll behave. Just please, please…”

He pulled nearly out of you, helmet pressed against your shoulder, rasping voice directly in your ear.

“Please…what?” He stopped moving entirely until the only sound that could be heard was your desperate panting.

“Please, please let me come.” A tear slipped down your cheek, more from the building denial than anything else. “I’ll…I’ll be a good girl. Your girl.”

Boba grunted, pounding back into you with renewed vigor, one hand finding your neck, the other, your clit. He fucked you relentlessly - your back slamming into the wall as the edges of your vision dimmed.

When you finally came, your vision went completely white - all sound reduced to a ringing as burning hot pleasure seared you to your core. You screamed, writhing against him even as he continued driving into you, less focused and more reckless, chasing his own high.

“There you go, kitten.” His voice was dark with lust, armor flashing in the dim lighting. “Not so hard, hmm?”

When he came, it was with a deep groan that reverberated into your chest. He had you pressed against the wall, helmet against your neck, breaths rasping as he finally slowed to a stop.

For a moment, all was silent save both of your panting breaths. Boba was completely still, and for a moment, you worried he was genuinely angry. Had you gone too far? Had you done something wrong? Had you-

His hands reached up and unlocked your binders, catching you before you could fall to the floor. You couldn’t help but cling to him as he carried you to the cockpit, gently laying you in the small cot.

“You okay, my love?” His voice had regained some of its warmth, but still carried a dark edge. “Hope I wasn’t too rough with you.”

“I’m okay,” you nodded, meeting the visor with a small smile. “You weren’t. I’m honestly impressed you found me so quickly.”

He grunted, sitting beside you, gloved hand slowly caressing your hair.

“Didn’t expect you to leave Tatooine.” The helmet tilted in your direction. “You had me worried, little one.”

Oh stars. Had you gone too overboard? It hasn’t crossed your mind that Boba Fett would be afraid.

“Oh…I’m so sorry,” you curled into his chest, holding him close. “I’d only wanted to make it realistic. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “Only startled me initially. Gotta admit it was fun, watching you trying to give me the slip. It was cute.”

Wait a second.

You narrowed your eyes as he removed his helmet, mirth shining in his own.

“Exactly how soon had you found me?” You tilted your head to meet his gaze.

“Oh, little princess,” he pressed a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally, your lips. “You never left my sight.”

Taglist: @daimyosprincess @hideflen @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @marierg @deewithani @rain-on-kamino @rexxdjarin @ceapa-mica @bobathirstaccount @dukeoftheblackstar

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

Y’all wanted Vampire!Boba and I intend to deliver because Boba Bestie solidarity is a surprisingly strong bond of friendship.

gif courtesy of @daimyosprincess 💚💚💚

SMUT-LITE UNDER THE CUT.

Nothing good happens after 2am.

Your childhood pony, ancient and serviceably sound despite suffering from a variety of ailments common to geriatric equines, was finally gone after a heroic amount of banamine and nasogastric intubation. You’d ditched your dinner date and swapped your heels for your boots to be with the trusty steed of your junior rodeo days. You hadn’t even bothered to change out of your dress. Now you’re at a gas station in a $1000 dress and a pair of Ariats that were $150 five years ago with eye makeup running down your cheeks and your dead pony’s halter in your truck’s passenger seat. You just need a few gallons of diesel to get yourself home, then you can sleep.

A car pulls in as you fish your debit card out of your purse. Through the haze of grief you wonder who else would possibly be out at this hour in a late model Audi. He looks no more conspicuous than you do in a cocktail dress and cowgirl boots putting $10 worth of diesel in a dually born the same year you were, but he looks like money and there isn’t a whole lot of that around here.

A handsome, barrel chested man in tailored slacks gets out and begins filling his tank. You can feel him watching you, but you avoid making eye contact. You’re not afraid. You just look like hell. There’s no use flirting when your mascara is streaked down your cheeks and you’ve got mud on your bare knees from kneeling down to be with your pony as he passed.

…

The summer breeze is warm and it carries her scent. A perfume or scented oil perhaps - vanilla with a hint of bourbon. But something else, something familiar. The unmistakable smell of a horse farm like the livery stable of his youth. She avoids his gaze. Her face looks puffy and tear streaked. Her lovely dress flatters her figure, but her boots and muddy knees give her away as a local girl. And her truck - no girl from the city drives a truck like that. It must be older than she is. She’s a pretty little thing. Crying has given her a hollowed, wounded look, but it’s nothing a warm soak in his bath and a night in his bed couldn’t fix, surely. Her boots have seen better days. He imagines taking her to one of the expensive western wear stores in the city. It’s been so long since he’s felt the warmth of a woman on his arm. Or in his arms, for that matter.

…

Your truck’s engine won’t turn over. This isn’t earth shattering. Your truck was in borrowed time 75,000 miles ago. Your cousin owns the station and won’t mind if you leave it overnight - his father-in-law will probably tow it to the shop for free - but finding a way home is going to be a bit of a crapshoot. Compared to the rest of the night’s events, this is a hardly worth fretting over. You shoot a text to your cousin, knowing damn well he won’t check it until the morning. You thumb through your contact to see who might answer a 2am call or text.

A knock at your passenger side window makes you jump. The man with the Audi. You roll down your window.

“Are you waiting for a tow?”

His eyes are kind. Sympathetic. You must look absolutely pitiful in your silly little cocktail dress and your beat up old truck.

“I’ll just leave it here for the night. This is my cousin’s place.”

You hesitate.

“I could use a ride home though.”

You can see the strength in his biceps through his shirt. He doesn’t look harmless, but he doesn’t seem especially menacing either, and you’re too tired to wait around for someone to pick up the phone.

…

He can smell the warm leather and tang of brass on her passenger seat. An old halter, well worn but double stitched with a brass nameplate. He can smell hay - orchard grass and timothy and alfalfa. She must spend more on her horses than she does on herself, he thinks. Her eyes and clear and bright. Her round cheeks have the glossy sheen of old tears. Her heartbeat is soft and slow. Exhaustion and catharsis can have that affect. It would be nothing to lull her to sleep with his voice alone, but the heated seats of his car would speed the process along.

She’s doing an admirable job fighting sleep as she gives him directions from his passenger seat, but she soon settles. His driveway is paved and the long drive to his estate is quiet save for the sound of her heartbeat and her breathing. Her halter and lead rope are on her lap. The brass nameplate says “Bueno Butter Bar” in an attractive script. He suspects that Bueno Butter Bar is no longer in the land of the living.

Under his power, she won’t wake up until he allows it. He takes his time. He hangs Bueno Butter Bar’s halter and lead rope carefully on the coat rack just inside his front door and returns to scoop her in his arms and carry her over the threshold.

He lays her down on the plush comforter on his bed. He smooths her dress and pushes her hair out of her face. He’s not ready to wake her. He wants to admire her first. Her skin is soft. She feels warm and earthy under his touch. Predation is not in his nature, but he can’t resist tasting her. Just a sip from the bend of her arm. It will look like she attended a blood drive or had lab work done. The part of him that scratches at the inside of his skull with claws and teeth and an insatiable appetite whispers that she’s his now. He can do whatever he wants with her. The man that he once was, still is, reminds him that she is a person with hopes and dreams and fears and aspirations. Not meat. Not livestock. The soft rhythm of her beating heart calls to him.

Her blood is perfection, but he limits himself to a conservative mouthful. He’ll wake her soon and tend to her. Perhaps offer her a neat scotch and one of his t-shirts to sleep in. Perhaps a shower. Perhaps a bath with him.

…

You startle awake in a dimly lit, unfamiliar bedroom. His voice is soothing. You remember his name from when he introduced himself. Boba Fett. A Mandolorian name, you remember thinking. That’s the last thing you remember. He’s smoothing your hair and offering you a drink. His hands are so warm. He feels familiar and safe. You sit up and lean forward. His forehead touches yours. Such an intimate gesture.

“You’ve had quite the night, haven’t you love?”

When his lips find yours, you melt into him. This is what you need after a night like tonight. A strong, kind man to put his hands on you and take care of you. His touch feels like fresh aloe over a sunburn. You wrap your arms around his neck and he slides his palms up your thighs.

He pauses and you worry that he’s having second thoughts.

“Take a bath with me, little one. Sleep here with me in my bed. If you still want to do this in the morning, I promise I’ll make you feel incredible.”

You nod and allow him to wrap you in his arms and carry you to the bathroom.

…

Y’all I promise there will be a Part II with actual smut, but I’ve been out in the sun all day and I’m tired.

@daimyosprincess

@acatalystrising

@dukeoftheblackstar

@baufraus

@erinthevampire

@wings-and-beskar

@deewithani

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

My laptop protector finally arrived!

[omaano]

Making good progress on Boba as well to go with Din *w*

Finished BobaDin Hades AU

Finished DinCobb Hades AU

Boba WIP - Cobb WIP - Din WIP

[willowcrowned]

Pretty please can we have a follow up boba/leia/fennec one night stand pregnancy?

(Low-key hoping it's fennecs)

ABSOLUTELY you can have it I am DELIGHTED you asked

[part one]

It's not that she'd never expected to hear from Leia again. She and Boba are effective—terribly effective, as Leia would say—and if they make it long enough it'd only make sense to subcontract for the senate. Clean out some of the hutts still clinging on in their section of the Outer Rim and raise spice taxes once they've got a monopoly. It's a good plan. A long game. The sort of thing Fennec has always excelled at.

But then Leia shows up in her smuggler boyfriend's crappy ship and she's wearing a poncho three sizes too big even though it's pushing 55 out and Fennec has never claimed to be a genius, but she's been around enough to know what's going on.

"I'm not a mother," Fennec says, once they're down deep in the stronghold where the droids don't go and the air is cool and stale.

Leia looks angry when she says that—like it's Fennec's problem, like she shouldn't have fucked her if she hadn't wanted a kid out of it. Rich.

"I don't know what you expect me to do about it," Leia retorts. She's looking for a fight. And maybe that's why she likes that smuggler of hers—he'll always give her a fight, let her argue until she's forgotten what she's worried about.

Fennec stays silent.

Leia stares at her for a second—not a glare, something angrier. More bitter. She opens her mouth, and—

"I am," Boba says. "I could be its father. I would take the child."

Fennec turns to him. "Out here? On Tatooine? It'd be dead in a day."

"I'm a Mandalorian," he replies, as if that answers anything. Maybe for him it does.

Boba turns to Leia, and she looks up at him, unreadable. "Yes. I would be its father."

Leia presses her lips together. Her eyes aren't wet—Fennec doubts she's ever been a crier—but they could have been, maybe. If Leia were a little less cruel. If she were a little less desperate to come out on top. But she'd never have come to Tatooine then, so it doesn't really matter.

"You'd take the child," Leia repeats. "And raise it here."

"It would never need to know who its mother was."

"And if it's not yours?" Leia asks.

Boba looks at her for a moment, silent. "I am a Mandalorian. It will be mine."

"And I would leave it," Leia says. Her eyes are black. "We could never see each other."

"It would be loved. It would be raised well." Boba looks at her a moment longer, and the hard lines around his eyes soften just a little. "What other choice do you have?"

"You could terminate it," Fennec cuts in.

"Thank you, Ms. Shand, for that novel piece of brilliance," Leia bites back, acid-sharp. "We should thank our lucky stars we have your intellect here to save us."

Fennec looks back at her flatly, unimpressed, and watches as something in Leia snaps.

She turns to Boba, straight backed, braids like a crown around her head. "It's yours," Leia says. Her voice doesn't waver even a little. "When I have it, the baby is yours."

[blueberrybanee]

Ah yes, the random 12 am post from me. You will probably see these a lot more often soon

Ok so......Earlier I was cleaning my room and I moved out 2 of my cardboard cutouts since they were blocking a corner I needed to get into. And as much as I love my 4 silly character cutouts, they are fucking terrifying when they are; 1. Outside my room. Literally just anywhere that isn't my room. And 2. IN THE DARK. It's 12:30 at night right now and I almost forgot I had put this bastard right here outside my door. This is so menacing, please stop standing so ominously, sir.

And here's the second one, good ol' Boba. I had originally just put him out in the hallway, but my mum moved him into the laundry room at one point so.......he was just peakin' out all creepy like that. Go back inside. This is not FNAF.

They've been sealed back into confinement. No more SCP-ing out in the halls, boys