#cad x reader

[ayyyy-le-simp]

OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY

so I’m a VERY late Star Wars fan, like I just now started watching The Clone Wars

But like, I’m giggling right now

Guys, okay guy, guys please

Hear me out

No cause like i know that his actions are bad but like…why he kinda

STOP IM GIGGLING RN GUYS IM LITERALLY RUNNING LAPS ON SATURN

guys please hear me out don’t let me be alone

Give me that space cowboy right now

No cause

Im gonna edit him stop even though I suck at editing

I want him

[anarchy-n-glitter]

The Good, The Bad, and...

Summary: Lucy and The Ghoul encounter a shadowy figure from his past while on their way to New Vegas. This stranger, nicknamed Red Eyes, is intent on collecting a bounty on The Ghoul as a means to settle a feud between the two after they were betrayed by him. Will Red Eyes succeed, or will they have a change of heart based on their complicated feelings toward the man? (Cooper Howard x OC/reader) Words: 2,941

A/N: I forgot to post chapter 1 of this on here sorry guys. Anyway this is low key a Star Wars AU because as a Cad Bane fan I simply could not help myself so this is technically kind of a follow up to this fic. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

From the Desert Comes a Stranger

“I’ve taken down so many of dese clones over da years…” Her father began in his heavily accented manner, sighing, and pushing his hat back with his pointer finger as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. The red of his irises were somehow muted by the red lenses of the goggles he wore, which made it hard to see the look in his eyes as it was. He quickly dropped to his knees and with a single swipe of his knife he removed something from the clone’s body. She couldn’t quite make out what it was before he pocketed it.

He turned around quickly, pointing his gloved finger up at her. She straightened up.

“Now, Ciella, what ya need to know is…” He handed her the bloodied knife, closing her fingers around the hilt and holding her smaller hand in his. It was one of the only times he made a tender gesture towards her other than the odd hug here and there. 

“Once you figure out one da rest are easy.” She had to wonder what the point of all this was. 

When they arrived on the site - an old, decrepit warehouse with a caved-in roof - her father was quick to corner the clone that now lay dying before them. He tried his best to grab the gun that was strapped to his leg, fumbling with it and managing to point it in her father’s general direction before he was gunned down. Two shots in the chest from the looks of it, shots that left the man (clone) heaving and wheezing on the floor with blank eyes, and she knew that’s what he wanted to happen. If he wanted to shoot the man in the head he would have. He was the fastest shot in the Wasteland, and it would stay that way for many years. 

“Now, I want ya to take dat knife dere and,” He finally stood and moved her closer to the dying man. “Yer gonna have to cut his throat, unless ya want to hear him scream. I’m not against it but it’s best dat we keep him quiet. Don’t want any stragglers comin’ in and takin’ us by surprise.”

Ciella drew in a deep breath as she knelt down beside the man. His blank eyes suddenly held so much emotion, it was a look she’d seen in her own eyes a few times before. Mostly on dark nights in the Jewel as she listened to the way men spoke to her mother… and the way her father spoke to her at times. It was the look she saw in the mirror after she saw how her mama took care of those men - their purple, mangled faces contorted in pain and their eyes bloodshot staring up at her, and their hands clutched around their throats. 

This man was in pain, and he was afraid of dying. 

There was a large tattoo on the side of his face, around his eye. It was a symbol, most likely belonging to whatever faction he belonged to since escaping his vault. From what she overheard her dad discussing, Vault 66 seemed to be defunct, with the clones created within revolting and escaping into the Wasteland. He had been hunting down the clones for the last five years, among other things. She never quite understood why anyone would flee a vault to live on the surface. 

Her father took the respirator off of his face, letting it hang below his chin. She felt more at ease at this, happy to hear his own, unmodified voice walking her through what she was about to do. Her heart was beating fast and felt like it had leapt into her throat. She glanced at the open ceiling and focused on the large, white moon that hung in the deep blue sky. 

Perhaps the sky full of swirling stars would be enough to comfort her.

“When he’s dead, cut off da part of his face with da tattoo and hand it to da Tin-Man. Den we can go home.” He instructed. Ciella hesitated. 

The clone looked at her, stared her down, silently begging her for mercy. He was just a clone, and he was wanted so he must have done something bad, right? She looked back at her dad, who had pushed his goggles up onto his forehead, revealing his bright red eyes staring back at her expectedly. Tufts of navy blue hair peeked out from under his hat and over his goggles and his lips were curved into a small smile. 

He actually looked like a supportive father for the first time in his life.

Ciella made her decision at that moment, and the girl at only eight years old turned around and drove the knife into the clone’s throat. His eyes widened and met her gaze for a moment and she felt her heart drop. He groaned and wheezed, the blood gurgling in his throat as the crimson substance dribbled from the corners of his mouth. A sputtering cough had his blood spraying across her face and she wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. She tried not to heave at the disgusting feeling. 

On instinct, she pulled the knife from his throat and drove it back into his flesh. Over and over. A larger, warmer hand wrapped around her wrist and stopped her mid motion. 

“Dere ya go.” Her father smiled wider as pride swelled in his chest. His baby would be a killer, just like he was. “After dis I’ll teach ya everyding I know.” 

☠☠☠☠☠☠☠

The sun bore down unbearably upon the duo traveling along the Mojave Desert. It had been miles and miles of desert between the Griffith Observatory and the place the Ghoul was certain Lucy’s father was heading. The vaultie was starting to fall behind, clearly tired from the constant moving. It was hard to find shelter all the way out here, and unfortunately for her the Ghoul didn’t feel comfortable stopping out in the open. 

They had traveled through a few settlements at that point, each one growing more and more decrepit and sparse. The people were quieter and hid away in their own corners of the small towns, eyeing the Ghoul and his traveling companion wearily. The whispers and glares of the different townsfolk hardly made for good hospitality, if anything it was that fact that drove him away from each place. Something was happening, someone said something, and he felt it was too risky to stop for a few nights in any of the settlements.

The last place they’d been to was a day’s walk away at this point, and the talk amongst the people in that saloon made him deeply uncomfortable. Then there was the body. 

In the sandy dunes of the last settlement they had been to laid a man with sun kissed skin and snow white hair stained at the temples with red. The poor man had his brains blown out, by who…  well, let’s just say he had a good idea of who it was. It was clear the job was done quickly, the man clearly didn’t see them coming, and the fact the man’s armor and other supplies went untouched raised even more alarm bells. He got them out of there quickly and quietly.

Unfortunately for Lucy, the Ghoul was one-track minded at the moment. His family was out there, he could feel it. There was a reason he kept going for over two hundred years, and he would not let those years of anguish be in vain. 

He would kill anyone who tried to get between them. 

“There’s gotta be somewhere we can stop, right?” Lucy sounded hoarse, tired. He wished he could answer her truthfully. He hadn’t traveled this far into the desert before, and the way the sun seemed to hang so high in the sky for so long made him question whether anyone ventured that far, let alone set up shop. He shrugged.

The dunes seemed to stretch on for miles and miles, with only a few rocky formations on the horizon. A few dried plants littered the ground here and there, somehow finding the strength to grow in such a harsh climate. It was a wonder anything was able to grow and flourish after the bombs. Maybe he should have sent the vaultie to ask for some sort of transport back at the saloon instead of being stubborn like he usually was. 

“Maybe that person’s coming from a settlement down that way?” The Ghoul froze, feeling himself go numb. 

Among the dancing heatwaves stood a dark-clad figure on the horizon. 

They stood still, any discernible features hidden by a wide-brimmed hat and respirator over the figure’s mouth. The wind blew and kicked up dust and whipped the figure’s coat to the side, revealing the large holster against their hip. Their dark attire starkly contrasted with the bright blue sky and pale sand. 

The words of the men in the saloon ran through his mind. 

Someone’s lookin’ for a ghoul just like ya! There was a bounty put out not too long ago, I think it’s been taken offa the board. A lotta caps goin’ for that guy. He considered that a warning at the time. 

Anyway, it looked like the guy who took the bounty was Red Eyes. He had the goggles an’ everything, but we all thought he was dead. 

And Red Eyes was supposed to be dead. He died around five or six years ago. 

The figure in front of him was a ghost. 

Red Eyes stopped a good twenty feet in front of them, standing perfectly still. The wind shifted again and from beneath the wide-brimmed hat came a tuft of navy blue hair that blew in the breeze. The desert was all too quiet now, and it felt like something from one of his old movies. Red Eyes felt like an old western villain, dark and ominous, seemingly a force of nature. He worried the figure wasn’t only after him. 

“Lucy, you should head back.” The Ghoul muttered, putting a hand out to stop her from moving any further. She stared at the figure for a moment, suddenly afraid because of the Ghoul’s reaction. 

“It’s only one person.” She muttered. “Maybe they’re lost?” The Ghoul stayed silent. He would not repeat himself.

Her doe-like eyes flickered to him and she noticed the way his mouth was set in a seemingly permanent frown. His whole body looked stiff, like a cornered animal. She nodded, understanding finally, before turning on her heel to make a run for it. 

The Ghoul watched as the stranger glanced in Lucy’s direction. Red Eyes observed her, seemingly studying her like an unbothered predator eyeing a nearby animal knowing it couldn’t do anything to stop it. He grit his teeth and took a few steps forward, spurs jangling with each stride. 

This was not good. 

“Now I know that fancy getup you got on is not yours.” He began through a false bravado, flashing teeth that used to be a pearly white. It was so easy for him to slip back into a role, something he had been doing this entire time. Yet, this time, he was given the chance to play the good guy. It felt unfamiliar somehow, after all, it had been several years since he’d done such a thing. He was almost grateful for this stranger’s theatrics. “Who might you be? Cause you sure as hell ain’t Red Eyes… he’s dead.” 

He knew all too well who this was. 

Red Eyes looked up, the red goggles reflecting the bright sun and making it impossible to see past their lenses. More of the stranger’s hair seemed to flow from behind them, long strands of navy waving in the wind like a flag. Their stance shifted from one of leisure to subtly looking like they would pounce. The stranger moved their coat away from their hip, revealing the large gun strapped to their form. 

“I’d be careful where I was sticking my nose if I were you.” The heavily modulated voice called out. “Or lack thereof.” 

The Ghoul bit his tongue. “I’m assuming that corpse we found back there was you, then? Certainly wasn’t the handiwork of any ol’ fiend.” 

“Wasn’t much work.” Red Eyes spat quickly. “Was a clone. They're easy. Woulda gotten in my way.” Their accent, even through the voice changer, was thick. Louisiana, most likely from the New Orleans area. 

“You’re here for me.” He didn’t feel the need to ask. He threaded his thumbs through the belt loops on his trousers, opting to seem more relaxed than he was. He knew Red Eyes would see right through his guise.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Their hand twitched beside their gun. He eyed them wearily.

“Well, I’m not goin’ willingly.” A low, rumbling chuckle sounded from the stranger. 

“I never said I was gonna take ya in alive.” They answered, voice cold with an edge to it. He fought the urge to argue, to call their bluff, for doing so would be too risky.

Truthfully, Red Eyes had every reason to want him dead. It had been a few years, five to be exact, since they last saw each other. Five long years since he turned the fellow bounty hunter in for killing a crime lord. Five years since he left them for dead. This would be a fitting end for their little rivalry, even if it wasn’t always that way. 

But he wouldn’t go down just yet. Not without a fight. 

He had to find another way to fight them. A quick draw duel would mean a death sentence for him, unfortunately. Red Eyes was and still is the quickest draw in the Wasteland. He would have to throw them off somehow, say something to really disarm them. 

He did the only thing he could think of, and instead of indulging in the stranger - instead of going for his gun - words that he never thought he would say slipped from his dry, cracked lips.

“Ciella, I’m sorry.” 

Red Eyes froze. Their hand was still dangerously close to their gun’s grip. Over the wind, he vaguely heard the sharp, uneven intake of air from the figure. The breeze picked up again, blowing open the stranger’s coat to reveal the figure of a woman. 

“It’s a bit late fer that, isn’t it, cher?” It most definitely was her. “I came ta finish the job. I shoulda known a coffin wouldn’t hold yer ass.” 

Cooper held back a laugh. Ciella Bane was an ally at one point, and maybe even a friend, but the moment her picture was up on one of those boards he knew their partnership was over. Someone was offering a hefty reward for whoever could bring the bounty brat in, preferably alive. 

That was his mistake. He knew he probably should have killed her while she was sleeping and taken the smaller reward for her corpse. Killing her like this would be a pain in the ass. 

“You wanna take off that ridiculous getup and let me see you?” He taunted, much to Ciella’s dismay. He just had to hit her where it hurt, get her emotional and in her head so she missed when she inevitably shot at him. However, it had been a few years, he couldn’t be sure that trick would still work.

Though with dear ol’ daddy not around to give her more of his tips and tricks he doubted she would have improved much more than the last time they brawled. 

Ciella scoffed. “The last thing you’ll see are these goggles. Everyone’s gotta know it was Red Eyes who took ya out, ghoul.” She spat, though there was a sadistic playfulness in her voice. Cooper rolled his eyes. 

“I got places to be, girl.” Cooper countered with equal venom. He was getting antsy, and he felt she was wasting his time. “Let us through and…” He stopped.

What would he do? What could he do? What could he possibly offer her where she wouldn’t be on his trail while he and Lucy trekked the Wasteland on a wild goose chase? Ciella coming back from whatever corner of the world she ran off to after burying him alive was the last thing he wanted. 

“Let us through and we can finish this some other time. I’ll tell you where I’ll be and you come find me.” He offered finally, feeling the weight of his words in his chest. He wouldn’t give up finding his family so she could have her petty revenge, but maybe one day, when everyone around him was gone and he knew his daughter was safe and could live a happy life, he would go to Ciella and let her put him out of his misery. 

“We do this here and now.” The bounty hunter replied. “That head o’ yers is fetchin’ a pretty penny. Figured it was better I did it than some chem addicted fiend on the street.” Her words were purposefully inflammatory. She was doing the same thing he was. 

She straightened up again, mimicking the stance of a cowboy in a western getting ready to draw, and Cooper knew what it meant. She wasn’t giving him a choice. They’d done this dance once before, and unfortunately for him it didn’t end well. 

The Ghoul sighed and moved his coat from his holster, and he mirrored her stance. “This ain’t gonna go the way ya think it will, sweetheart.”

“I doubt that.” That same, robotic voice answered, yet he knew she was still all too human underneath. 

[blxkstar]

I made a Star Wars bounty hunters playlist! This was inspired by the western style the bounty hunters are portrayed in. Please check it out! 🤠🤠🪐🪐🔫🔫

I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Dead or Alive

Cad Bane x Fem! Reader

NSFW / 18 + for Blowjobs, titty fucking, ejaculation, public sex acts (semi), and a bit of demeaning behavior / slight humor on Bane's part. Yes, he has two dicks.

Summary: Cad Bane is the most handsome man you have seen in your whole life. He knows that look, and decides to have some fun with you. For you, it's love at first sight. You would let him take you in any way that he saw fit; lucky for you, he's into that (you give Bane sloppy head in an alley behind a bar).

Word count: 3.1k. Short and sweet.

Notes: Haven't written for Bane for a minute. Just wanted to gush over him for a bit. He was so hot in TBB season 2 that I was inspired. This fic takes place from many points of view, but halfway through it settles into the reader's perspective. I may write a part 2 when she/you bump into him again. ;D

A raucous discordance of voices quieted to a dull roar, and then nothing – a nervous cough, the scrape of a chair – so many languages hailing from different star systems pinched off like oxygen from the lungs. Those sentient beings who absorbed the stuff found they held it inside like a scream; they harbored this bated breath, as if releasing it might bring certain doom in the guise of a figure.

A figure who wore a hat, canted downward, its wide brim shielding them from judgement, from the burn of this creature’s gaze, this otherworldly being who was half myth, half legend, half flesh and green blood, bound together by a kind of apathy that bordered cruel.

But the stories were true— time stood still once he walked into the room.

One might swear they could hear the drop of that toothpick, discarded with both absence of mind and disrespect. It bounced once across greel-wood floors strewn with sand, in need of a sweep.

All eyes, including ones that were bulbous and backlit, remained on the blue Duros, a person of sound intelligence left to ponder the notion—the implications—as to the appearance of a diminutive droid from behind his legs, only knee-high. For a hunter of such notoriety to keep a companion that for all intents and purposes seemed harmless was a mystery, almost as big a mystery as the man himself.

“Geric Zodri,” its haughty, high-nosed voice called out, little hands akimbo on his hips, both the new arrivals unaware of the woman who sat at a table just diagonal the door. Her caf cup was held stationary in a position that mimicked art, as if sculpted from marble; she dare not move, wanting nothing more than to observe the sight before her, to commit it to memory, for such a beautiful thing it was.

Skin the color of cerulean seas; eyes as red as human blood that shone like fire; fingers as long and delicate as the legs of spiders. His teeth were as sharp and deadly as his stare, two the length of dagger points, the Duros’ body as thin and gangly as the stem of a candlewick flower sold on market days. 

He was covered from head to foot in leather, tubes jutting from his cheeks like extra limbs, his pants so tight it appeared he had been poured into them. The girl imagined his wide-brimmed hat to be a crown, fixated atop his head and steeping him in shadow, its artificial shade casting its dark pall across honed planes and angles, only making those stark, elliptic eyes more prominent.

Love at first sight—she might believe it, now that she had come face to face with hell incarnate, a fallen angel, a man so handsome tears threatened to fall from her eyes, her previous occupation all but forgotten.

What had she been doing? Datapad sitting idle, screen blackening to the color of pitch.  She hadn’t a clue, forgetting to breathe, forgetting to blink, forgetting her own name as the soft jingle of some unidentified bits of metal clinked against one another with every graceful, slow, deliberate step of this man advancing, strolling beyond her, just to the left.

She felt she might faint; simply pass from this world into the next, to die on the spot as she caught the scent of the gunslinger who smelled like something smokey, something sweet, something not quite like anything else on this stinking planet; it was a wonder she did not spill her beverage straight onto her lap, finally having the sense to place it down upon the table.

Then, another man stood, a human, though nothing about his appearance suggested he was from any place in particular, his eyes wide like an animal ensnared, caught in the path of a hungry predator, though the droid approached him first, his gold-colored photoreceptors angling upward as he tilted his large head.

How did it even stay upright? How did this little bot balance when it was so top heavy, defying the laws of physics? Questions she asked herself as she watched the scene unfold; they were all members of a theatrical audience, her and the other patrons, seated on the edges of seats, cramped in corners to make themselves small, heads bent low with hoods drawn, others smiling wicked smiles of twisted delight.

“Ah, there you are! There is no escape, I am afraid,” the droid said with certainty, joined by an air of pretention that was almost comical. Maybe this woman would have laughed had not all the other people surrounding her been so adamant to keep their silence, a few others daring to inch toward the door in hopes of a subtle escape.

The Duros paused as his target’s eyes shifted, mapping out possible exits, his heartbeat so loud he was positive it could be heard over the eerie quiet that had descended upon this little cantina like an ominous cloud. The gears of his mind were practically visible, turning in the direction of the blaster on his hip, the perp’s arm lifting incrementally in such a fashion as to make everyone aware he planned to draw.

“Naht smart, what yer thinkin’,” the creature’s voice announced, low and husky, words drawled in absolute indifference. So calm and cool, like a tall drink of water served ice cold; he rushed for naught, the girl thinking she would pay all the credits in the galaxy just for him to read aloud to her.

“Whaddeye say ye come quietly, save me a heap a trouble.”

Something akin to fear bristled down her spine, though the threat had not been directed toward her. Worse yet, it wasn’t as simple as that, the tingling of her loins accompanying a heat that spread like wildfire from her groin up to her cheeks.

God, he was perfect in every sense of the word. The tilt of his hip, the drumming of his fingers against his gun belt, the scars that not marred, but complimented his rugged visage. She realized she wanted to kiss him, touch him, worship the very ground he walked on, and she did not even know his name.

“Cad Bane.”

His quarry had spoken, eyes narrowing to match the width of the Duros’, constricted into tapered slits at either end. The girl had only spared him a glance, returning her attention to the rough and tumble nerfpoke whose hand idled over blasters of a kind she had never seen before.

“Supposin’ ye know why Ah’m here, dhen,” the hired gun offered, though his droid perked up, easing himself back into the conversation as if he enjoyed the act of provocation, no better than a sentient who fed on drama.

“For the sizable bounty on your head, of course!”

Cad Bane, the bounty hunter, the girl recited soundlessly. Only known by name, she had never once laid her eyes on him—not that she had desired or ever expected to.

The hunter’s upper lip lifted in a partial sneer, revealing the point of one elongated tooth more clearly. How might it feel for it to press against her flesh? How might it feel to be bitten?

“Dhat’ll do.” The droid needed no other encouragement, backing up to a safer distance as its master stayed put, seeming to know better than to interfere with what was about to occur. The one called Bane never once looked away from his mark, and the girl never once looked away from him, the way in which the Duros carried himself exuding a reptilian-like patience that preceded his species, yet this was something else entirely.

It was a standoff, like those kinds she witnessed in holofilms, but she found herself rooting for the villain—was he the villain? What had this man done to warrant being hunted down like vermin? She would not contemplate the possibilities, too engrossed in the here and now, eyes trailing from boot to brim; she thought she caught a sideways glance in her direction, causing her to dip back in her seat—had he looked at her?

That was the moment a shot rang out, followed by the smell of Tibanna gas and gasps from all around. Another followed suit, within milliseconds, echoing the first. Bane had sidestepped, his reflexes like that of an agile nexu—the human male had tried to take him out and failed.

“Ah’d say better luck next time,” the hunter quipped. The butt of his joke need not be stated, the point of it obvious—he was deader than a starship rivet, hitting the floor like a sack of Corellian potatoes, no one seeming to want to acknowledge this fact as they returned to card games, to gambling, to drinking caf.

But the girl—she would continue to stare, lip nearly chewed to shreds as she bit her tongue to keep from spurting off nonsensical things such as “I love you,” or “please fuck me within an inch of my life.” It was as if he could read her mind, another glance cast with the accompaniment of a smirk.

“Todo.”

The droid was alert and ready to serve, somehow wishing she was he, or it, at his beck and call and then some, never once assuming she could be jealous of a thing that had no soul, made of ones and zeros.

“Get de repulsor,” he commanded. “And ye,” he faced the girl, “come with me.”

---

The coiling of a single digit easily persuaded you, your heartbeat a separate entity set out to betray you; it was felt as a persistent throb below the belt, your cunt clenching as you stood. You were unsure of what the hunter wanted from you, but it did not matter, all thoughts fleeing to be replaced by unconditional obedience.

It would have been unwise to turn him down regardless, apparent from all eyes now set upon you, none wishing to be caught in your shoes. Had he felt disrespected by your ogling? Had he set out to punish you? Would you wind up like the man inside the bar?

You would not see his face again in the span of time it took for him to travel the path laid out before him, unconcerned by your lagging behind, finding you to be no threat. Despite your predicament, you were eager to discover what he had in store, pausing when Cad Bane vanished beyond the mouth of a narrow alley.

Now would be the time to run, to flee for your life, but instead you were stupid, enamored by the way he walked, the way he talked, the clothes upon his back, the color of his pretty scales.

You took a breath, turning the corner. He was waiting for you, thumbs hooked along the waistband of his trousers. Once he was sure you had not abandoned him—and he did allow you your own freewill—he advanced, arriving at a more secluded portion to which he pointed with a downward turn of his index finger.

You bravely stepped forward, aligning yourself with the wall. Bane positioned himself in front of you with a curious tilt of his head, towering above. And while you felt intimidated, you did not outwardly express it, keeping a straight face notwithstanding the trepidation you harbored, meeting that piercing gaze head-on.

Then, he angled his hand, pointing again, this time toward the ground with that same finger, a smug look of callous amusement registered by only a small quirk of his thin lips.

Slowly, thoughtfully, you lowered, drifting to your knees before him as your gaze stayed trained on his gaunt face. He wanted you humbled in supplication; you held no qualms, holding his red eyes with an expectant look for as long as he allowed.

You could get drunk off them, like sanguine-colored wine, your own reflection mirrored back to you; your own desperation; your own indecency, assuming what might come next, yet your expression could only be observed as eager. The Duros’ lithe fingers branched out like twigs as they curled beneath your chin, a hint of a thing most heavenly stretching languidly in an upward curve.

It was a smile, or the beginnings of one, dastardly in effect, Bane all too entertained by your lack of self-respect, perhaps. Yet you obeyed when he pried your lips apart with the pad of a cool thumb, exposing your teeth—nothing like his and dull in comparison—your instinct to wet his scales as your tongue gave a tentative lick, mouth closing around its blue tip.

You sucked, not once breaking eye contact, drowsy with desire as you mimed fellatio, moaning sweet sounds that caused the man to hiss, as if somehow unprepared.

You watched as his free hand unzipped his fly below where his belt fastened, leaving his holsters intact about his tiny waist. It took more than that to partly undress himself, realizing there was a hidden panel made of some extruded, matte material that sealed him off from the outside world; it was like a second skin, only black.

Bane’s bulge pushed against it, as if the thing behind it demanded to be released. Like a snake, it—they—slithered out to your surprise, his thumb abstracted to be replaced by not one, but both his cocks.

Awestruck, your eyes widened; you never would have imagined that what his species packed would be anything quite like this. Coated in a sheer slime that tasted divine, these flexible appendages glided down your throat as if a liquid, bypassing your uvula to delve toward the deepest part of your oropharynx, barely giving you space to breathe.

But you found you could, inhaling through your nostrils as you sat up on your knees, finding his flavor to be enticing, lulling you into a more relaxed state of mind. You were receptive, more than perhaps you ought to be, puckering your lips for better suction, the Duros’ gloved hand finding the back of your head.

He pushed you forward; you did not resist, his slender hips thrusting into you as his reedy fingers coiled into your hair. You aided him, seesawing your neck back and forth, adopting a frictionless speed that caused his grip to tighten, the Duros shamelessly fucking your face like you were a common whore, yet he was not paying you.

His genitalia seemed to be hardening, which was unexpected, making it difficult for you to obtain the oxygen you sorely needed, yet you found to be starved of air was worth it, instead your nostrils filling with a most addicting aroma, none like you had ever smelled before.

Today seemed to be a day full of firsts; your hands found the hunter’s small, yet muscular ass. He did not stop you, though he could if he had the mind, your tongue roiling across and between his members as if imparting a passionate kiss.

What was that? you wondered, your human brain only comprehending it as pheromones, you heart beating faster as you drooled on yourself, spittle leaking down your chin to fall against your breasts. The hunter yanked you backward by your locks, stealing his cocks from you; you panted, gasping, yet you were indignant, tongue searching them out in a pathetic display worthy of embarrassment as you whined in dismay.

“Human girls would choke dhemelves te death,” he commented, tone mocking, allowing the reinsertion of one, while the other slid down the front of your top to fondle a pebbled nipple, slipping beneath the fabric of your brassiere.

He was right; you had not wished to stop, only now noticing how dire the situation had been. As if hypnotized, or seduced by his scent, in that moment you would not have cared if you asphyxiated, so avid was your zeal.

You moaned in earnest, enlivened further by his attention to your tits, however unconventional, moving your hand to grip his interred cock’s sleek base. You gorged on it, one of the Duros hands finding purchase against the wall behind you, propping himself up as you deigned to never be forgotten, feeling privileged to have even gotten this far.

You changed your mind; you went hands free, smashing your breasts together, creating a snug crevice between your cleavage for him to fuck. You continued to slather his first cock in your saliva, deepthroating him to the root of his tentacular shaft, putting your whole body into motion, your tongue ebbing and flowing, cheeks hollowing, coaxing him to bust.

He produced a gruff, throaty sound that nearly caused you to cum untouched. You would have played with yourself right then and there, but his pleasure was the thing you sought, keeping your tits level as he drove his secondary cock between them, droplets having formed at its head; the sticky beads of precum leaked out onto your chest.

“Give a Rodian a run fer dheir creditsss…” he praised, your underwear thoroughly soaked; you relaxed your throat as he face-fucked you harder, though his movements slowed, his strokes deeper, longer, more succinct.

“Get ready,” Bane warned; you felt born ready, squeezing your tits around him at the same time your mouth hugged his every inch. He came, a torrent of ejaculate pumping itself down your gullet and into your belly, the other spreading its seed all across your breasts and neck, spurting as high as your chin.

You were covered, inside and out, verbalizing your ecstasy by way of a happy purr, though you were quickly disappointed when his snake-like dick wriggled right out of you to join its twin, both dripping with remnants of his sperm.

You licked them clean, begging for more, a plaintive whine escaping you as you gazed up with sorrowful, pleading eyes, so sad that it was over.

Bane stuffed himself back inside his suit, his trousers, and awkwardly adjusted, waiting for the moment his dual dicks would retract inside himself, making his pants all the more comfortable to wear.

He pat your cheek; it was a demeaning gesture, yet you ate it up, nuzzling your face into the bowl of his palm for those few seconds, like an eager kitten who craved attention, finding yourself to be devastated when he broke physical contact, your mind swirling with thoughts of him and only him, Bane knowing that look all too well.

“Thanks fer de head.”

The hunter tipped his hat, turned, and moseyed back the way he came, the way from which he had ushered you minutes prior, his droid drifting by with the body of the man Bane had shot laid out on a hover-stretcher, leaving you to pine away for him as he knew you would, walking out of your life just as quickly as he had arrived— oh to be his bounty, dead or alive.

—-

Cad Bane masterlist

[tarrensbookmarks]

Star Wars

➼ Kino Loy ‣I Want You to Show Me Weak by tarabyte3 Kino Loy x F!Reader

➼ Din Djarin/The Mandalorian ‣Still of Your Hand by moonlight-prose Din Djarin x F!Reader ‣Sleepy Sex by saradika Din Djarin x F!Reader ‣Home Is Wherever I'm With You by saradika Din Djarin x F!Reader

➼ Boba Fett ‣Dance of the Desert Snake by seriowan Boba Fett x F!Reader ‣Maybe I Just Wanna Be Yours by saradika Boba Fett x F!Reader ‣Ex Libris by daimyosprincess Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

➼ Paz Vizla ‣Bold by flightlessangelwings Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

➼ Cad Bane ‣Expensive Tastes by eloquentmoon Cad Bane x Rich!F!Reader

➼ Crosshair ‣Insufferable by thrawns-babygirl Crosshair x F!Reader [Part One] [Part Two] ‣Show Me by thrawns-babygirl Crosshair x F!Reader ‣Keeping it Casual by clonecyare Crosshair x F!Reader

dividers by saradika-graphics

[saber-slutt]

It Just Makes Sense (Cad Bane x F!reader) 18+

Hey gang! A fic with smut! Who cheered!

Anyways, 18+. I’ve decided that my whole blog will be 18+, so please block me if you’re a minor, thanks!

≽^•⩊•^≼ Warnings: Smut, m receiving (f receiving in next chapter), female reader, dirty talk, mating cycles, Cad Bane

≽^•⩊•^≼ Please leave criticism! I’ll take anything, I just want to improve at writing

Cad Bane liked to consider himself above the primal instincts that resided in the core of every being. He was a hunter, of course, but a sophisticated one. That’s why this time of year, in the weeks leading up to his mating period, he was rather irritable. Quick to snap at Todo, reserved towards you, and overall angrier. It sucked. For you, specifically. You had only known Bane for a few rotations. You met him as you held a lot of information on one of his bounties, and you helped him catch the guy (rather gleefully, too, that man had stolen many credits from you). Bane took some pity on you, as your life resembled a lot of his youth, and invited you to work aboard his ship for a while. Your smarts and beauty would surely come in handy in trapping and luring potential bounties. And it had. But maker, you were wishing you could go back in time and not take this job. Credits be damned. Looking at his beautiful face be damned. Bane was being a dick. And he was getting worse everyday.

You had sympathy at first. You knew Duros mating periods were rough. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not feel like yourself, and giving into something that wasn’t you, but still, somehow was. But right now, Bane was taking it too far. He acted as if you couldn’t do anything right. Ship maintenance, cleaning, cooking, it was all wrong to him. And he brutally vocalized his displeasure. Your patience was wearing thin. Just one more week, you thought as you bit back your tongue from his recent snap, (“I don’t know why ah’ took you aboard, you can’t even clean a damn window right!”) just one more week until he’ll be down for a week in a pheromone crazed episode. Then I’ll be free from him, and he’ll come back normal.

You sighed as you sat back in the copilots seat, hesitantly turning to Bane. “Listen, your mating period is coming soon. Do you have any plans? Where are we gonna stop and wait, while you, y’know?” you began.

“Shuddup. Ah don’t wanna talk bout it with you.”

“Come on, please? It’s getting close now. You’re not the only one this affects. I really know nothing, and I need to make some plans. Do you need help with arrangements?”

“Ah don’t need your damn help! Jus’ stay out of the way and stop bein’ an idiot,” he shouted, before stalking out of the cockpit to his quarters.

You turned to Todo, whispering, “Is he always this much of an asshole before his mating period?”

Loud footsteps charged back into the cockpit. Oops. Not whispering quietly enough. You couldn’t even react before long fingers wrapped around your throat and lifted you from the copilots chair to standing on your tip-toes.

You gasped, while he growled, “You have no idea what this is like. I’ve handled it for almost thirty years before you, and I will handle it after you. Unless you want me to fuck you for a week straight, I suggest you be silent and stay out of the way.”

You only stared back with wide eyes.

He dropped you back into the seat and stalked off again. You didn’t dare to breathe.

Four days had passed since that incident. You hadn’t spoken to him. You knew he would never force you into anything, but he had also never been physical with you. He had scared you, plain and simple. You sighed as you sat on your bed in your quarters, fiddling with a sweater you were knitting, feeling rather bored. One of your favorite pastimes was annoying Cad Bane. But now, you were confined to isolation. Worse yet, you still had no idea what his plans were to take care of his mating period. Which was a problem, considering it was three days away. He was also becoming antsy (sexually). You had never heard him take care of himself before; he once joked that jacking off requires more effort than just walking into the nearest bar and finding someone to suck him off. You had heard him a few times at night in the past week, groaning and growling through the walls. You felt a wetness between your thighs at the memory. Maker, you wished you could hear him groan and growl in your ear, hands wrapping around your thighs as he spread you wider, pounding into you at a merciless pace as you could only whimper-

“Hey, lil’ lady,” Cad Bane interrupted your thoughts, standing in your doorway. You jumped out of your skin. “There’s a brothel on Nar Shaddaa that caters to species mating periods. We’re going there soon. You can just lay low on the ship for the week.”

You didn’t say anything, a look of fear etched on your face. You prayed that he didn’t suspect what was just running through your mind. Hopefully, he would leave soon, before his olfactory organs could pick up on your pooling wetness.

He sat down on the edge of your bed.

Shit.

He raised his head to the air, eyes closing, and basking in the scent of the room for a moment. “Doll, you can’t do this so close to. . . it’s unfair.”

You stayed quiet and wide-eyed, truly not knowing what to say next.

“Ah’ could really go for a lil’ taste, right now.”

You sucked in a breath, “Bane.”

He moves closer, taking your face in his fingers and forcing you took look at him, “It’s takin’ everything in me not to jump you right now, and pin you down while I fuck you so hard you can’t stop screaming,” he growls, before backing off as quickly as he had started toward you, “Course, then I wouldn’t let you leave, and you’d be stuck with me for a week.”

You were breathing heavy now. Lust clouded eyes meeting Banes’ own. His self control was truly impeccable. Three days, give or take, before he would enter a pheromone-filled, sex-crazed episode, and he was restraining himself.

“I’m setting a course for Nar Shaddaa,” he growled, standing, leaving your room and slamming your door.

Maybe a few months earlier, you would’ve left it at that. But you had grown closer to Bane, and you trusted him. And truth was, you were worried about him. Unlike Cad Bane himself, you were open with your emotions, and you wanted him in good hands during what you knew was a difficult time for him (also, the prospect of him undressed and wrapped up with someone else send jealous pangs through you). You maybe, possibly, had a tiny, itsy-bitsy crush on the Duros. The moment you laid eyes on him, you were down bad. And spending a few months in close proximity with him did not alleviate these feelings. You decided that you would proposition him for his cycle. It just makes sense.

You walked nervously into the cockpit. Cad Bane was sitting straight as a board in the captains chair, staring out at the hyperspace blue illuminating the front windows.

“Cad,” you started, the name foreign on your tongue. You didn’t call him by his given name, out of an unspoken sort of respect, but now you needed to truly, truly, speak with him.

“Go to your room. Now.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Listen-“

“If ya stay here any longer I can’t be held responsible for what happens to ya. It’s here earlier than I thought,” he drawled. “I want ya to go to your room and lock the door. Don’t let me in no matter what I say. We won’t make it to Nar Shaddaa in time, because I’ll be fully under in a few hours.”

“And what? You’ll go through it alone?”

“Yep. Grab some food and water for the week.”

“Wait, just wait, what if I do it?” you questioned, a bit frantically.

He said nothing, scoffing at your hasty proposition.

“I’m serious! Everyone knows how bad Duros breeding cycles can be. If you don’t have someone, you’ll be in hell. I don’t want that,” you pouted.

Internally, Cad Bane didn’t want to argue. The image of you under him, face twisted up in pleasure and completely at his mercy was difficult to pass up. But it’s a lot to ask of someone. You’d be exhausted by the end of it, bruised and busted. He’d get to reap all the benefits from it; a week of pleasure with a pretty person. Not to mention the possibility you could get pregnant, which neither of you could handle. But still, you were offering, and he’d be in hell otherwise.

“You understand what that entails?” he queried.

“Yes, sir,” you spoke softly. He shifted.

“Still, der are some things you gotta be clear with.”

You were feeling brave now. “Okay, but, what if we take the edge off first? Before we go through the details” you questioned, eyes gesturing to the bulge in his pants. He straightened up again, silent as all hell but letting out a curt nod, signaling his approval.

You lowered yourself to your knees. He watched you intensely, but remained unmoving and stiff. Gingerly, you undid his fly and pulled him out, already hard. You looked up at him with doe eyes, before kitten-licking his tip. He shifted and lightly hissed at the contact, bucking slightly. You licked again, and again, gradually licking longer stripes, as Bane’s resolve dissipated.

He growled, “Put me in your mouth. Stop teasin’ me.”

You complied. You were unfamiliar with Duros anatomy. His cock was long and ridged, and almost indigo in color. Maker, was he long. You felt a gush of liquid between your thighs at the fact. Surely, you’d see the bulge in your stomach when he split you open.

You worked Bane’s cock like your life depended on it. You bobbed your head up and down, hollowing out your cheeks and applying slick pressure with your hands where you just couldn’t reach. Filthy, wet sounds filled the room as you occasionally let him hit the back of your throat, tears welling in your eyes. You let out a couple of whimpers, which based on the way he growled and bucked in return, he greatly appreciated.

“It’s gettin’ close doll,” he let out in a strained voice, “swallow all of it.”

You whimpered in response. Cad Bane’s self-control snapped. He grabbed the back of your head, fingers wrapped up in strands of your hair, and forcefully guided you up and down his cock, moving you so fast you didn’t have time to breathe. Tears fell from your eyes. With barely a grunt as warning, he came, spilling past your tongue and down your throat. He held your head on his cock and didn’t allow you to move, forcing you to drink every last drop, moaning before each time you swallowed. And maker, was there a lot of his cum, and you knew it would definitely spill out of you in the future. Finally, your mouth slid off Bane’s cock, a strand of spit connecting your lip to his to his tip. Panting, you look up at him. Expecting to see a sated Bane, instead you were met with an even more lustful stare. You felt heat rise in your cheeks.

“Not bad, lil’ lady,” he began. “But I’m still hoping for that taste I was talkin’ about earlier.”

[chad-something]

BEHOLD Fic Recs!!!! 18+

Notes: I’m reposting this because it seems to have disappeared completely from my account!! After the week we’ve all had I thought I’d accumulate some of my favs 🥹🥹 I’ll make a list for fluffy fics as well! Big love.

Side note, there is no theme, the theme is chaos fuck you Filoni

Warnings: These all contain 18+ content, minors do not interact - all posts contain individual warnings.

Expensive Tastes: by @eloquentmoon - cad bane x AFAB!reader

• Good lord. Need I say more? I want this shit tattooed on my fucking eyelids.

Rough Day: by @no-droids - mando x F!reader

• Because obviously. Is it too much to call this the Bible for fanfic readers?

Tech Savvy: by @bb-8 - Tech x F!reader

• Pure, unadulterated perfection.

Can I help with that?: by @nahoney22 - Tech x F!reader

• She needs no introduction. All of Honey’s work is PERFECTION!! I’m kicking my feet and blushing thinking about it all.

Handling: by @moodymisty - Tech x F!reader

• Again, she needs no introduction. Incredible writing AND incredible sex, what more could you ask for? I just adore all of her stuff!!

Catch and Release: by @sporadicthingcollection - Cad Bane x F!reader

• This was the first fic I ever read on ao3 after somebody sent it to me and I remember with such clarity being like … wait… this shit can be GOOD good?! I feel like I’m reading a Jane Austen novel rn except it’s pure smut and about a blue space cowboy. I seriously hang off Emberly’s every word - this fic and the whole series is AMAZING

Poise Counterpoise: by @sporadicthingcollection - Tech x F!reader

• Mmm same as above but for tech. I want to inject this into my brain?!

Quick and Dirty: by @eyecandyeoz - Tech x Reader

• Everything. All of Candy’s stuff. But in light of recent events this one has been on my mind!

Multitasking: by @neon-junkie - Tech x GN!reader

• I dare you to find a fic by neonjunkie that I won’t obsess over, this is one of my personal favs

Coriolis Effect: by @uponrightful - Crosshair x reader

• FANTASTIC Crosshair series with excellent writing, pacing, and smut by uponrightful

What Boba thinks about on the throne: by @saradika - Boba x F!reader

• I’m blushing. Every. Single. Fic. Is. Perfection. (And read kinktober 2021 NEEEOOOOOOWW)

These are just some off the top of my head to help ease the pain from the finale!! I’ll be back with more soon I’m sure - and there are so many other fluffy fics I adore that I can’t wait to shout out asap

(Boarders by @saradika)

Em x

[my-sun-m00n-and-stars]

Cad Bane NSFW Alphabet

In honor of my first kinktober, I'll post something I wrote up a few days ago.

Check out my Bane slowburn on AO3, linked on my pinned post.

F!Reader

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex): Bane has never been an emotional, touchy-feely kind of guy. If you're a one night stand, he won't even sleep in the same room as you. He's got places to be, and sleeping next to a stranger is a prime way to get himself killed (he's not a very trusting guy). That being said, if you're a regular partner and have built up some trust, he'll help clean up the mess he made of you and share your bed. If he's in a committed relationship, he may permit cuddling on occasion (he's stealing your mammalian warmth).

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): A common answer people give to this one is his hands; his trigger fingers made his career. While I agree with this, I'd like to add up for consideration his fangs. I have noticed he likes to bare his teeth, and always has a toothpick in hand. This, combined with the fact that Duros don't typically have fangs, leads me to believe that he may like them for intimidation purposes, and also because they make him unique.

On a partner---tits. Simple as that. They're exotic, they're soft, and they're inviting. A novelty to a reptile.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person): I have a headcanon that has to do with "scent-marking". Essentially, Duros males have strong pheromones in their cum that lingers on their partners, marking them with their scent to ward off other potential males. If Bane is in a committed relationship with you, he may want to "mark" you as his, whether it's cumming on your stomach, your ass, your face...whatever it takes to make the message clear to other males who get within smelling-distance: You're his.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): This is another common headcanon in the Bane fandom---he has a fetish for mammalian women. Humans, twi'leks, togruta, anything he can get his elongated hands on. For one, they seem to be the common standard of beauty in the galaxy. For another, as a reptile they have certain assets that intrigue him. They're warm to his cold, soft to his rough, curvy to his lanky. A good heat source for a cold-blooded man.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?): Oh please. The real question is, which body count is higher? The amount of people he's slept with, or the amount of people he's killed? To elaborate more, I imagine that if he can't find a girl at the cantina to rent a room with, he's finding a hooker to pay. Either way, when he wants it, he gets it.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual): Definitely doggy. It's easy, he's in control, and he can go as fast as he wants. Not to mention he gets a good view of your fine ass. It's also less intimate in a sense--he's not face to face. Less "love-making" banthashit, more fucking.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): In 99% of cases, he's serious. When he's horny, he's a predator on the hunt. It's almost like a bounty for him. That being said, if you two were in a committed relationship and were very comfortable with each other, I could see him loosening up a bit and having some fun, especially if alcohol is involved. He's not going to turn into a comedian, but he'll relax. But that would be very rare indeed.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): Obviously Bane has no hair, so I'll talk about hygiene instead. He strikes me as a bare-minimum kind of guy. He's got a bar of soap, toothbrush, and toothpaste tube in his knapsack, and that's it. That 18-in-1 soap was made for this man. However, he is clean and keeps himself presentable, including in his nether regions.

On his partner he doesn't much care for body hair either way. It's a bit of a novelty if it is there, but he appreciates the smoothness when it isn't. One thing he can't stand? Prickly. It irritates his skin. You either have to shave it all off or leave it fluffy.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): As I mentioned earlier, this man is not holding your hand and looking deeply into your eyes. He's there to fuck. Now if you're his girl, he'll treat you with a bit more deference. He'll make sure you're taken care of and that he's not too rough with you. But if you want anything slow or gentle, you're out of luck. You'd have to catch him in an extremely rare mood to be willing to try that kind of sex. It's vulnerable, and if there's one thing he hates, it's vulnerability.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous easily?): This man is Possessive with a capital 'P'. He's a control freak. Whether you find that toxic, hot, or both is up to you, but I believe it to be most realistic to how he is portrayed in canon. Even if he trusts you not to betray him, he doesn't trust other men. Especially in the circles he operates in. If you're out in public together in a seedy part of town, he's keeping an eye on you at all times. He may not like you wearing certain outfits if you look too good. He may 'teach you a few lessons' back in the bedroom if you piss him off too much by talking to other guys.

I see this as being his biggest red flag as a partner. But hey, if you've got rose-colored glasses...

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks): Bane likes the chase--the hunt, so to speak. If he's in the right mood, and you're playing hard to get, he will eat that shit up. It's in his nature as a bounty hunter. He would never force himself on you--that would defeat the purpose. No, he has to win you over mentally and physically. It's much more satisfying to him. Play coy and watch how determined he can be.

*disclaimer* If it's obvious you're not into him, he won't waste his time.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do): I'm going to disagree on other common headcanons with this one. I don't think he would enjoy doing the do in an alleyway or unsecure location as much as a room. He's a paranoid guy and would always have to watch his back, and he can't fully engross himself in his partner. But if you're indoors in a bedroom, it's easier for him to get into it. I also think he would get a kick out of doing it in the cockpit of his ship.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): As I said before, this man is a control freak. Any situation where he feels powerless makes him deeply uncomfortable. As such, subbing would not be on the table for him. He'll let you ride, but don't think for a second he's not the dominant one in the situation.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going): If you play into the predator/prey dynamic, he will be on board. If you challenge his authority in any way, boner. Even if he just sees you being a badass, like shooting someone or punching someone, it will turn him on. Basically anything that makes him imagine what it would be like to butt heads with you and see who comes out on top (it's usually him).

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): In general he prefers to receive. Selfish man, selfish lover. However if he's really into you, he will eat you like a feast. Something about humans just tastes so sweet.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.): Fast and rough. No other explanation needed. These words pretty accurately sum him up.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): He loves a good quickie. Get in, get out, on to the next mission. That's how most of his encounters tend to go. But when he has the time, nothing can compare with a nice, long session on a bed.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): He usually only experiments if it's his idea. He doesn't like unknown variables that are out of his control. But if he is not completely against the suggestion he hears, he may decide to give it a try.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): This man has a lot of experience. As a result, he has had practice with edging and building up his stamina. He can go for a long, long time. Depending on where in the star wars timeline you're looking at him, how many rounds he can go may be variable. In his younger years in the prequels? Several rounds. TBOBF? Maybe 2. Man is in his seventies. Give him a break.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): Bane wants to feel you in his hands and use his hands on you. Toys are too detached for him, and frankly threaten his ego. Although, the idea of tying you down and using a vibrator on you until you scream from overstimulation is something he has thought about on more than one occasion. But he'd rather bring you to that point himself through hard work rather than rely on a tool.

He has no qualms about bondage. He can and will use his cuffs on you, and he will tie your legs down too if you squirm too much.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): This man lives to tease you. He's a smug son-of-a-bitch and will degrade you. He'll mock you, toy with you, and make you beg.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make): He's not loud, but he does make animalistic noises. Grunts and growls mostly, as well as the occasional dirty talk.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): Maybe once, if he really loves you deep down, he'll let you take charge for a night. Maybe once he'll let you show him how to be slow and gentle, how to make love. Maybe he'll claim he didn't care for it afterwards, but maybe, in the moment, his body was on fire.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): You know what they say about skinny guys, amirite? Big. His cock was designed for a duros female, not a human. it's very nearly incompatible anatomy, but you make it fit. It's ridged, with the tip being pointier than a human's.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): High. When he's on a job, he's locked in and won't be distracted with such things. But off the job? He's always DTF. If you live and travel with him, you're fucking at least three times per week, at the bare minimum.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): I headcanon that duros don't need as much sleep as humans do. He's last to fall asleep and first to wake. Depending on how much he likes you, he may or may not stick around until you wake up.

[thrawns-babygirl]

I think my favourite part of Cad Bane smut fics is that the authors always go crazy with duros anotmy. And y'all are so real for that.

[masteroffearshusband49020]

"Why're You Lookin At Me Like That?" Cad Bane x GN!Reader

You had been with Cad officially for almost a month now. He was making dinner for the both of you at the moment. You stopped what you were doing and admired him with a smile as he was cutting a vegetable. He stopped when he felt your eyes on him. He looked up at you to confirm his suspicion. There was nothing but warmth and tenderness in your eyes. You looked as though the mere sight of him made your heart melt.

"Why are you lookin at me like that?" He asked.

"I'm just admiring the lovely view." You shrugged. He looked stunned, but touched for a moment before quickly snapping out of it and getting back to cutting his vegetables without a word. Your smile widened, despite trying to hide it, you knew you got to him. You walked over to him and hugged him from behind. He stopped what he was doing.

"Dear, I'm holdin a knife." He mumbled. You kissed him on the cheek.

"That's all I wanted." You let go of him. "You can continue now." You told him before walking off.

"Wait-" He cut himself off.

"Yes?" You asked with a guilty smile. He squinted, annoyed that he fell for your trick. He sighed.

"Nevermind..." He grumbled before going back to cutting. You knew what he wanted, you'd get him to say it some day. He almost said it though, so you figured you'd reward him. You hugged him from behind again and began kissing along his neck and shoulders. He put down the knife and silently accepted his reward.

[ayyyy-le-simp]

Okay okay okay

Im back at it again

So we had many many people hear me out and agree with me on cad bane (cad babe) so I’m confident someone will listen to me on this one

But before we start: hiii cad bane nation how are you guyssss

Okay okay so hear me out

NO LIKE PLEASE BRO OMG

HES SO FUCKING ICONIC LIKE I BE EXCITED WHENEVER HE SHOWS UP CAUSE I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT THE EPISODE IS GONNA BE FUN AS HELL

Him and Jack sparrow would be great friends

And yondu from guardians of the galaxy as well

They would serve

I can’t tell if I wanna be a part of his crew or if I wanna fuck him ngl

NO LIKE I HOLLERED AT THAT SCENE

[johnsjackolantern4902]

Cad tricks you

You and your party had just finished setting up camp for the night. Cad called you over to him all of a sudden. He was by the fire pit with a few others. He had a welcoming grin on his face.

"What's up?" You asked.

"Nothin', I just wanted to see you." He shrugged. He pulled you in to kiss you. This was a nice and very welcome surprise. Just as he felt you relax into him, his hands quickly slid down from your hips and onto your ass. He grabbed fist fulls of it and practically kneeded into it. You let out a muffled sound of surprise before pushing away. You gave him a look. He laughed, knowing damn well that it turned you on despite your annoyance. Your party members awkwardly tried to act as though they saw nothing.

[averagehorrorgirl]

Masterlist

Work in progress 💕

Hi and welcome! I do believe I should introduce myself :) So I'm Cass 21 female ace nerd. I've been writing since 6th grade and use it as a form of therapy and healing. I really struggle accepting people actually like my work so I always have drafts ready to be published but I'm my own worst enemy haha. Anyway stay awhile read some of my work and I hope you stick around :)

Request Rules:

- No non-con/dub-con

- No pedophilia

- No incest

Newest: Angel Wings Pt 2

2) I saved your fucking life (soap x reader)

3) Forged in War ( General Grievous x sith reader)

¤ Legend ¤

Fluff: 💫

Smut: 🔥

Angst: 😨

Author favorite: 💕

• Movies/Shows •

Miles Quaritch:

A Second Chance

Cooper Howard:

Cowboy Hat Rule

Then Fame and Fortune Never Could Compete

Zemo x reader:

Angel Wings [pt 1] [pt 2] 💫😨🔥

Blade x reader:

Lost and Found

TBA

TBA

TBA

Gambit x reader:

TBA

Michael Myers:

Bleeding Boogeyman

Clones:

Commander Wolfe x Padawan Reader

Captain Rex x Padawan Reader

Jedi:

Sith:

Darth Maul x reader: Ferocity

Darth Maul x reader: Laced Chains

Dooku x reader

Darth Maul x reader: I was There From the Beginning 😨💫

Savage Opress x reader: Darkness Takes All 😨

Savage Opress x reader

Bounty Hunters:

Cad Bane x Senator reader: I Don't Follow You

Bossk x reader

Boba Fett x fallen Jedi: I Told You [pt 1] [pt 2] 💫😨🔥

Din Djarin x reader: Flinch

Jango Fett x reader + Cad Bane

Others:

General Grevious x sith reader: Forged in War 😨💫

Billy Hargrove:

Scars

Dmitri Antonov:

The Enemy

Daryl:

Monsters

• Video games •

Ghost

Wired Hideaway

Soap

I Saved Your Fucking Life 😨💫💕

Deathslinger (Caleb Quinn):

Just an Old Cowboy

Legion (Frank Morrison):

Picking up the Pieces

Pyramid Head:

Simple Kindness

Pinhead (Elliott Spencer):

Chains That Bind Us

Trickster (Ji-Woon):

I can Treat You Better

Vittorio:

Kissed by Fire

Nate (SS):

Friend's till the End

Mason (Nuka World)

She-Wolf

Joel Miller:

Sanity

Revenge

Scared

Tommy Miller:

I Gotcha

Revenge

Long Time No See

[sinisterexaggerator]

Maybe one where reader - due to some recent unsuccessful business or other hardships - lost considerable amount of self confidence, hiding in her own bubble, and space cowboy tries to drag her out of the stagnating in his own bastard way? Reader could be friend or romantic interest, it'd be up to you. What do you say?

An Unlikely Muse

Cad Bane x Gen! Reader

Summary: You are an artist whose mind’s been blocked until Cad Bane comes to call.

Warnings: Nudity, implied smut, kissing, lust filled thoughts, and fluff/comfort (in Bane’s own way).

Word count: 3.5k+

Notes: @deepbluespace4 , sorry this took so long to get to. I was inspired to write this based on your ask. ;) I had you and others in mind when writing it, a sort of shoutout to Bane artists, I guess.

“What are ye down in de mouth about?” the Duros asked, his lean build held up by the doorframe of your paltry studio.

The tools of your trade were littered about the room, everything having its place in the wake of organized chaos. You sat with your back against him, toiling over a blank canvas, your mind obstructed from accessing the breadth of your normally overactive imagination. You found your creativity to be lacking, and your mood had taken a turn for the worse.

This was becoming a repeat scenario, you with your brushes and paints laid out before you, yet nothing to show for it. You jumped, startled by your lover’s voice, not bothering to wonder how it was he had found his way inside your home.

“Stop creeping up on me like that,” you warned, though you lacked conviction. The bounty hunter smirked, one corner of his mouth twitching upward as he stepped further inside the room.

“Ain’t creepin’. Was in de neighborhood.”

Cad Bane was not a man to be told what to do, yet he tolerated you for some strange reason. Oddly enough, he had commissioned you for a portrait that now hung in Maz’s castle on Takodana, or so you had heard, as you had never stepped foot on the remote planet to see for yourself.

The gungslinger had received your name based on someone’s recommendation, yet he had not bothered to elaborate. You were left guessing who had dispatched Cad Bane to your doorstep.

Regardless, the Duros had provided you with a distinguished holo of a Weequay pirate, mentioning something about his hatching day, and he had been quite satisfied with the result.  Afterward, you bargained with him. Instead of credits, you solicited him for something a bit irregular, having caught him perusing your body with those stark red eyes.

What was the worst that could happen? You were sure he held an attraction for you.

At first he made it clear that he thought you were “pulling his leg,” as the saying goes, yet you were dead set on bedding the Duros if he allowed – not only was he excruciatingly attractive, but his reputation proceeded him. You wanted bragging rights, as childish as that may have seemed at the time, and it was evident the thought had already crossed his mind.

Honestly, you were shocked by your own gall, blaming it on those hypnotizing, gleaming jewels that permeated you down to your core with every glance.

“Let me get dhis straight—” he had begun, “—ye wanna fuck me in exchange fer paintin’ dhat dhere portrait.”

“Yes,” you had answered plainly, remembering the merc had cocked his brow at you.

“Fine, saves me money in de long run,” had been his only reply, though it was enough to leave you satisfied.

It was an evening you would not soon forget, etched into your memory as if your mind was composed of black-bark wood, and Bane was the chisel used to shape and mold you to his liking.

Apparently, the bounty hunter was particular with whom he spent his time with. At some point, he had decided he rather favored you (for reasons unknown), and to your surprise he often came to call. You had grown fond of his intermittent visits, and never dared turn him away, even when you were feeling disheartened and depressed; you were currently a victim of the dreaded Artist’s block.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a bit out of sorts,” you admitted, turning on your stool to face him. He was a sight to behold, not once growing tired of admiring his slender physique.

“Cahn tell dhat by lookin’,” he commented offhand, Bane not one to sugarcoat things, even at the detriment of your feelings. He strode forward, the sound of his aged leather boots echoing across the floor with every footfall.

You watched, enthralled, eyes traveling upward in increments. Your gaze started at his feet only to end up at his face after you had taken in every nuance of his gruff demeanor; the Duros was capable of instantaneously stealing your breath away without so much as lifting one of his blue fingers.

You had it bad; you pondered on how obvious it might be.

“Agreeing with me isn’t helping matters,” you managed, having long since stopped being intimidated by him. Though he was a lethal weapon in his own right, your name was not among those on his shitlist; you thanked your lucky stars.

“What seems te be de problem,” he questioned, one tightly gloved hand casually placing itself on the outside of his jutting hip. The hunter’s weight shifted to his right side as he peered at you indifferently; you wondered if he truly cared, or if he was attempting to be cordial.

You were silent for a moment, studying his pose, soaking up the grandeur of this formidable being that was no doubt pretending to be concerned. Still, even if it was all for show, it warmed your heart and prompted you to confide in him; your plight was not life or death, but it felt that way to you.

“I’m not inspired to create anything, and have not been for quite some time,” you confessed, twirling your dry flat brush between two fingers. The quizzical look he gave you compelled you to set it down, feeling silently judged by his never-ending scrutiny.

“Dhat all?” he asked with nonchalance. Perhaps you were the one judging him, never knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt what was going on inside that oversized noggin of his; you could only guess.

Bane circled around you, strolling unhurriedly toward a viewport that would give him a decent vantage of the world outside, this one full of airspeeders and street merchants. You swiveled in your chair to watch him, the Duros adjusting his hat between two knobby digits, relocating it to a more favorable position. Then, he drew your curtain shut, finally turning, and now sporting an expression of a more serious variety. “Reckon Ah could help ye out."

Suddenly, the gloves came off, one at a time; Bane’s motions were slow and methodical, his movements comprised of simplistic actions that demanded you swallow down an inordinate amount of spit. He tossed the pair of them arbitrarily onto your cluttered desk, followed by his wide-brimmed bolero.

“You-you can?” you asked, heart aflutter behind a wall of flesh and bone; it was the only thing preventing its escape.

“’Member dhat time ye said ye wanted me te model fer ye?” His inquiry stopped there, knowing you would not need anything more in the way of an explanation, Bane’s now bare, indigo-colored hands rising to dislocate his breathing tubes. The sound of pressure being released behind a locked tight valve lasted but for a moment, the Duros shucking off the cap that covered the full expanse of his bald head; you were left gawking at his sharp and angular features, fighting to keep your excitement at bay.

“I do,” you whispered, setting your hands in your lap. They itched to not only reach out and touch the man, but to take up your instruments. He had barely started to undress and already you were dying to record every minutia of his form in excessive detail.

“Maybe now’s de time,” he proffered, his tone lackadaisical, as if this weren’t the single most exhilarating thing to have happened to you in all your days. Then, the coat was gone, thrown over an armchair you had picked up secondhand from an estate sale, observing dutifully as he began to unfasten the no-fight holsters buckled about his waist.

It felt as if your veins were conduits for electricity instead of blood. You sucked in a breath and held it, trying to force yourself into a latent state of calm before responding; you did not want to make him second guess himself by being too overtly enthusiastic. “I would love to, Cad.”

“Good,” he responded flatly, carefully arranging his LL-30s atop his discarded duster, depthless, bloodred eyes locking you in place. He moved to thumb the top of his dense leather tunic; you heard the telltale sound of a zipper crawling slowly down the length of its tread, revealing to you not a bare chest but more armor underneath.

You finally exhaled, realizing you were practically being offered a striptease by none other than one of the most deadly bounty hunters in all the galaxy. You could no longer contain yourself, fumbling to take up a pencil, then scurrying to locate your drawing pad as Bane further disrobed.

Once peeling himself from skintight Nashtah-hide, the Duros kicked his boots off, one heel at a time, letting the top half of his ensemble join the coat and blasters off to the side. Left dressed in only dusky denim, worn leather chaps, and a body glove, you spent this time sharpening graphite against a knife’s edge, catching a glance of the decidedly erotic display only here and there as you tried your best not to cut yourself.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, failing at your endeavor, a bead of crimson forming along a small cut against your thumb. Still, you would not let that stop you; you wiped it off on your already paint-stained jeans.

Bane had just finished husking off his trousers when he sauntered forward; you met his unnerving stare. He took up your hand, then suckled the tip of your thumb like a babe nursing, feeding off another trickle of bright red blood that had wetted your skin, never breaking eye contact.

You felt like you might faint, mouth parting to watch in awe as he drank from you as if he were a vampire; his elongated canines were slightly daunting up close, waiting for the moment when he might bite down.

That moment never came; he released you before your imagination could truly take hold and devour you, much like you wanted him to do.

“Careful, darhlin’, ye need dhat,” he lightly scolded, his own thumb grazing the slit of his thermoguard suit, prying apart the flaps before he tore it into two halves; its fasteners behaved like magnets. Not surprisingly, you found yourself caught somewhere between wanting to act professional and desiring to be the victim of a merciless rutting against your disheveled desk.

Finally, scarred and bruised flesh was revealed to you, dappled in varying hues of blue and green; his job was a dangerous one, Bane subjected to its many risks. Without thinking, you bit your lip, drawing up your pad of rare and expensive flimsiplast to set it in your lap; it was a type specifically manufactured for those who specialized in the visual arts such as yourself, and you could not think of a better time to use it.

“Wait a tick,” the gunslinger exacted, whisking off the remainder of his bodysuit. He stepped out of its legs and kicked it across the floor. Then, he returned his outsized accessory to his head with a haphazard plop, rifling through his own belongings in order to find his smokes.

“Got a light?” he asked.

For several moments you did not move, too enwrapped in the lithe figure of the Duros before you, his sinewy body occupying hardly any space at all. Despite his build, you knew he was powerful, cunning, and adept. And now, he was naked, except for his ostentatious hat.

“Ye-yes,” you stuttered, shuffling paper and its much more resilient cousin, flimsi, all over your workspace in order to find your book of matches. Once acquired, you quickly sparked one against the striking board, holding the flame outstretched as you left your drawing supplies resting atop your legs.

“Much obliged,” Bane volunteered in thanks, bending low to place his cigarra against the tiny fire that had sprung to life. You found yourself unapologetically staring, nearly burning your already injured thumb. You squeaked as you blew it out, the Duros again rising to his full stature. He inhaled a deep drag of hand rolled herbs, relaxing on the exhale, only to tsk and shake his head.

“Suppose yer slow aht learnin’ things,” he dared.

Instead of taking his insult to heart, you found yourself studying the curves of his small rump; they alternated back and forth as he walked away from you, Bane catching you in the act of ogling by the time he had spun around to reface the room.

“Ah’d ask if ye seen somethin’ ye liked, but figur’ Ah already know de answer,” he savagely teased; you watched as his lungs expanded behind his ribs, the bare-assed gunslinger taking another puff off the end of his smoke.

“C'mon—” he urged, finding the most comfortable seat in the house, a highbacked chaise lounge which he now reclined in, the point of one elbow supporting the weight of his head as the hand holding the cigarra wafted dismissively toward nothing in particular, “—draw me like one'na dhose dancin’ Twi’leks.”

With your mouth now fully agape, it took some effort to close. If his genitals were not hidden away, sheathed inside him until such a time they had been coaxed to rouse, you would most assuredly be staring at those, too.

Shamelessly. Predictably.

“Not with you lying down like that,” you said, somehow regaining your power of speech.

In spite of everything, the Duros laughed; it was dry and insipid. He sat up, reconfigured his gangly limbs, then sprawled out on his back. While one leg remained level, the knee of the other protruded upward. He placed one arm behind his neck to sustain this position, still fully aware of his joint in the other as he tilted his head, those hellfire eyes fixating on your ceiling.

“Take it or leave it,” he said.

You took that as your cue.

Not wanting to waste one second, you snatched up your sloppily sharpened pencil. You took a deep breath before you pressed the graphite to the page, clearing your mind of anything and everything that was not Cad Bane.

You started with a basic outline, light lines unfurling across once empty space as your hand moved at a rapacious pace; your art was something that was second nature to you if your mind decided to cooperate. Elementary shapes formed the Duros’ extremities, granting yourself this time to warm-up with a sketch to get back into the swing of things, back bent and eyes shifting to and fro from paper to model who was so eerily quiet now, allowing you to concentrate.

Bane continued to laggardly toke his herbs, a plume of white smoke billowing out of his thin-lipped mouth to fill the area just above his head. He began to tap his foot along the plush cushion of your couch, as if listening to some song only he could hear. Drinking him in - every plane and hollow -  filled you with joy, more so as his likeness divulged itself to your eyes alone by aid of your polished skills.

You roughly filled in the fine intricacies of his face, those you had stored in your memory, as his hat was lower than you wished for it to be, hiding dry, cracked scales and the exact placement of numerous scars; he was none less beautiful in your opinion, and you felt that these little imperfections made him appear all the more rugged and handsome.

The pencil you had chosen was versatile, permitting you to shade the tiny appendages now come to life, so close to the real thing sitting there and breathing as if he had not a care in the universe.

The Duros began to hum; it threw you off guard, so soft and melodic was his voice. Normally acerbic in tone, it was remarkably pleasant; you lowered your implements and set them down, now only bothering to listen.

A few precious moments went by before the man noticed you had stopped your scribbling, Bane turning his head in your direction. When he saw you only gawping at him, the flat space between his eyes stitched. He reached an arm out and put out his cigarra on the end of your caf table; it was transparisteel and would not leave a mark, but ash.

“Finished already, are ye?” he asked, sitting up. You scrabbled to regather your supplies, stuttering as you nearly dropped your pad.

“N-no, I- I was just-”

“Well, let’s see it, dhen.” The man stood, towering, naked, and mildly irritated.

“I was just listening to your-” There was a swagger to his step as he approached, so perfect a specimen to draw as you had ever seen. “-humming,” you surrendered, gazing up at him with a pout written across your visage as plain as the lines now scrawled into the paper he held, having retrieved it from your lap; you waited with bated breath, anticipating some kind of rebuke or snide remark.

Instead, he examined it, no words or sounds passing his tongue to grace your ears. There was only a long stretch of silence, too long, perhaps. You decided to ask him a question if he would be so kind as to answer you.

“What was that song, Cad?”

Without missing a beat, he humored you; his reply wound up being more personal than you had thought, only imagining it to be something he had heard in passing, or a little melody he fancied.

“Don’t remember-” he started off, gaze never wavering from the subject of his interest –- himself. “Life-giver used te sing it te me back when Ah was a grub.”

The idea that Cad Bane had ever been a baby, much less a child, suddenly dawned on you, and what a strange revelation it was. You instantly had the urge to research what a Duros “grub” looked like, but held off to compliment him.

“You have a lovely voice,” you told him, meant to be more than empty flattery. The bounty hunter shifted his gaze, those alluring red eyes once more capturing you in their snare.

He said nothing, pondering your praise, as if deciding whether or not you were being serious or if you had taken to mocking him. Regardless, he returned the drawing to you, boring holes into your head with his unrelenting stare.

“Looks good-” he started, causing a wave of relief to wash over you unexpectedly; you had no idea his approval would mean so much to you, “-fergot te mention Ah charge a thousand creds’ an hour.”

You almost choked on your own saliva, eyes wide as saucers as you could not read him, wondering if this was some kind of cruel joke.

“But, Cad, I don’t have that kind of money!” you vocalized in mild panic. Bane snickered, already having an answer prepared.

“It’s ‘cause instead of takin’ payment, ye ask fer sex,” he stated matter-of-factly, though in your defense you had only done that once.

“No, I don’t! Your case was special,” you whined, wondering what kind of person he must think you to be.

“How special?” he queried, leaning forward to shadow you with his imposing figure and the brim of his large hat.

“I don’t lie with anyone but you,” you meekly explained.

The reptilian creature canted his head. “Lie as in lie-” he made a motion with one hand, flattening his palm to spread out across the open air, pantomiming the surface of a bed, “-or lie as in lie,” he asked, voice deepening to express annoyance.

“Lie as in lie! I haven’t slept with anyone since you’ve been gone,” you conceded, finding yourself to only have eyes for the man before you, perhaps somewhat problematic as you knew he was a free agent and that you possibly meant nothing to him.

“Dhere it is,” he quipped, lifting the corner of your chin up so you were coerced to face him; he had noted your distress. “Mind’s blocked ‘cause ye ain’t been laid in fifty rotations.”

You scoffed, trying to put your thoughts together. You felt it absurd for him to even suggest such a thing, though it was possible what you were truly feeling was embarrassment, or denial. “That’s not- I don’t think- There’s more to it than- Really? – How da-!”

You were cut off with a kiss, a featherlight brush of Bane’s lips to yours. Immediately silenced, you could only muster a tiny moan as your shoulders drooped and your body settled completely in your chair. You relished every second, never wanting it to end. Just as soon as that notion crossed your mind, he broke away, leaving you twitterpated and with an awestruck expression plastered on your face.

“I still want to paint you-” you blurted out, though you had felt a stirring in your loins; truth be told, you wanted both – to commit his likeness to canvas, and to take him to your bed “-that was just a warm-up, I-”

He kissed you again as a means to silence you, cutting off your complaints midsentence. Once you were quiet, he pulled back to address you with a shrug of his shoulder. “Dhen ye best pay up.”

“But I can’t afford t-”

He was already wandering off, having disappeared around the corner toward your bedroom. You made out his voice calling to you from down the hall, sounding distant, but you could hear him loud and clear.

“Might be persuaded te give ye a discount.”

With this gentle prodding, you would be spurred to action; your spark was back, as was your motivation. You would paint a thousand pieces if gifted the chance to paint Bane only once in your whole lifetime.

Presently, he was your unlikely muse, and you were content with that.

—-

Masterlist

Likes, comments, reblogs appreciated.

[daddy-issues-99]

I write for most genres. Fluff, angst, smut, etc. Let me know if you have a preference ;)

[echoedcrosshairs]

Just Cad / Cad Bane x F Reader

After reading @sinisterexaggerator post about Cad being depressed it gave me a angst/fluff idea if you haven’t read it you should & @dreamswithghosts for gif

Summary: After pairing with you Bane kept you around, one day he drops you off realizing he made a grave mistake seeing you take a bounty with the last people he ever wants to see again.

/ Bad Batch Era Bane / ~> might rewrite and develop more but idk

Warning: Angst, Fluff, Rough Cowboy & Cuddly Cowboy, mild adult subject. PG-13

Word count: 3.1k

After completing the score, Bane had grown more quiet than normal. He was already a man of a few words but the silence was heavy in the air, even Todo had been quietly sitting in his copilot chair. It hadn't been a high stakes bounty or a high profile case, it was open and closed the closes one would get to easy money in this line of work. You spun your chair in a circle groaning before getting up and wrapping your arms around the silent Duros keeping yourself under his hat not to knock it off. Smelling the familiar blaster traces and leather on him, he didn't even try to pry you off.

"Okay, Cowboy, what is it?" you asked letting the concern lace your voice.

"Nuff'in."

"Cad Bane, don't you lie to me," you said pulling yours arms off him staring down at the brim of his hat, "What is it? Bounty too boring? Let's find any another to do."

"Dat ain't it."

"So tell me!" you said impatiently.

"Droppin you off."

Your blood ran cold, time stood still looking down at him and it was if reality was breaking, "For how long?" his silence was answer enough. You went back to your seat but you couldn't sit still, your leg bounced wildly. You got up headed to the bunk room, you looked down at his bunk shaking your head grabbing your stuff off the top bunk and mini closet. Both of you weren't a couple but why did it hurt like a break up? You thudded your ahead against the shelf of the bunk trying to pull yourself together. Sure there had been moments where glances lasted longer than they should have or nights where a little to much was drank that opened him up to talk or maybe the occasional hug to the man you considered a friend. Thought was, you mentally corrected, but was never more than that so why was he kicking you out? You wanted to demand answers but you knew once he made up his mind that was it.

You unholstered his LL-30 copy you had on for the bounty just incase nothing had gone to plan, you laid it on his bunk not having enough strength to face him. Bane was a cold blooded killer, most would consider this a blessing but you knew him deeper down than most there was still a person underneath those sharp teeth and crimson eyes. For a man who had it all, the title of the best, the first pick of any bounty he the fear and respect that came along with that there was always something under the surface the loomed over him that you couldn't describe other than lonesome.

You took yourself down to the ramp bay with the two duffels in tow. Minutes went by, you heard the metal of his respirator and the click of his boots against the floor, "I still don't understand why..." you paused to take a deep breath, "I guess I'll see you when I see you, Cowboy," you uttered at his shadow waiting by the ramp.

"Ya betta off."

"I'm better off? I'm better off with the one person I trust."

"Dat's a weakness a cute lil lady likya can' afford."

You turned to him gawking, "Bane did you just call me cute?"

"Ya know whatta mean'" he grumbled looking at you, "ain't this no place for ya." His skin crawled at the hurt in your features and the surprise at the comment, she don' know... he realized. He exhaled, "Missy, ya gotten too close to ma, I don' wancha gettin hurt over meh ya can' ghet close to people in dis profession."

"That should be my decision, Bane..." you looked down to see the ramp lowering you stood at the top of it not wanting to crumble, "You hear me, Cad, I love you," your stomach fell at the confession and it took every ounce of strength to hold it together as you walked down, "Just so you know someone in this universe does."

Bane quickly hit the ramp button the moment you were off, he leaned against the wall supporting himself. He allowed himself a few tears instantly regretting it when Todo showed up.

"Mr. Bane you are crying," Todo said worried.

"No kiddin" Bane grumbled pulling himself up by the boot scraps.

"You should go-" Todo started before Bane cut in, "Quit ya yappin, da woman is a risk."

"A risk to your heart maybe," Todo said sourly.

"What was dat?" Bane growled.

"You don't let anyone close anymore, it was obvious how you felt about each other."

Banes fingers found the metal plate on his head, "Lets go, Todo," no one knew him not really or what was going on in his head, left for dead on one of his bad days by so called colleagues. He wanted to spat at the memory of falling and Boba. If they didn't understand him to see what was wrong no one would. Being abandoned by Jango, he didn't want to go through that again but  ain't dat what I just did to 'er...? Bane frustratedly kicking the wall, "Dang nabbit," he gridded out at how hard he had kicked it.

"Mr. Bane, I do insist you go fix this," Todo said putting his hands on his hips floating himself to Bane's eye level, "before she gets to far."

"Shut it, droid. 'I know wat I'm do'in."

"I don't think you do if your kicking your precious ship."

Bane growled stalking back off to the cockpit and slumped into the set staring out the window finding you walking away. His eyes trailed you until you were no longer visible as you disappeared deep into the streets. A familiar ache formed in his chest causing his finger to drum against the armrest of the chair, he wanted to take off and continue but he couldn't bring himself to start the ship. Bane had forgotten to shut off the alert for when you got to far from him, it dinged almost causing him to jump. He looked down seeing a bounty rooster with your name on it, drat woman you haven' been gone fora hour, his frozen blood boiled seeing who you were signed up with.

"She don' know 'em," he seethed seeing both Boba's and Bossk's names along with a couple other less noticeable hunters names.

"You did terminate your partnership with her, Mr. Bane," Todo pointed out, "It's only natural she continues with others. However if we retrieve her..."

"Can' care 'bout er," Bane affirmed but didn't make it any easier then he saw Embo's name on the list, "Ya getting ya way this once," he growled getting up heading into the bunk room eyes narrowing on the blaster, "She ain't even armed," he hissed holstering it.

"We will find the annoying mammal," Todo hated having her around causing Bane to split his attention but he seemed more like his old self having her around.

"Betta find her fast before dey leave."

Info fob took you to a run down busted cantina that definitely shouldn't have had their license to operate but it was the perfect out of sight place for Hunters to met up, which you suspected is the only reason the establishment was still open. You didn't know anyone from the list but you easily picked them out in the small crowd clustered in the back and the anxious looking people around them. You slide into booth introducing yourself, all of them glared at you.

"Is there something on my face?" You asked nervously.

"Nothing," the one called Boba's say, "Didn't realize your ball would give you enough chain to be by yourself without him."

"Bane...?" You asked stupidly which got a stupid reply of yes, "We're not a team anymore, he dropped me here and is probably long gone."

Boba hitched an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"What does he need with a geek like me anyway, he has that droid anyway."

"We should get going, Bossk is going to meet up with us on the ship." All of you got up after Boba following him to the ship dock. You didn't even think twice about it even with Boba's connotation about Bane made it seem like they were less that associates it would be off whatever world this was.

Shuffling into the seat you heard the Trandoshan's breathing and turned around watching him stroll in sniffing, "I recognizess your ssmell but I don't recognizess you."

You rolled your eyes greeting him with your name and your former partner, "Is it really that big of a deal?" you muttered to yourself.

"Only to a select few."

Before you took off you saw it, the Justifier still docked and a blue figure staring straight at you. No one else seemed to noticed him in the distance and the ship took off towards everywhere the assignment was. You hadn't even bothered checking other then it was off planet. You fidgeted in your seat trying to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

"Whatss iss it?" Bossk hissed.

"I feel... like we're being followed... I can't explain it."

"Bane," Boba growled, "Anyone want to say hi?" he said sarcastically before the ship got one single blast.

Your pad started beeping, "Are you farking kidding me?" you grumbled pulling it out staring at it, Ghet back on da ship, now, 'You made me leave,' you replied, "Let's go."

Boba punched it, hitting light speed to get out of there, "What did he want?"

"Me," you mumbled. You pulled your legs up to your chest wrapping your arms around them letting your head slump against the seat. You eyed the room discreetly, feeling dejected but wondering why he didn't want you around them if that was what this was about. Your pad went off again, I'm comin, don' trust'em.

"I take it you don't know?" Boba said.

"Don't know what?"

"Bane was one of my mentors. Absolutely cruel to me; irony because my father was his mentor. One day while we were out on a bounty, Bane didn't care about how we went about it or if we even completed it. Him and I dueled for leadership, he lost and somehow lived."

"Oh..." you had wondered about the metal plate, remembering how every time you asked how belligerent he got especially after a couple drinks.  You were very aware of Bane's temper and ruthless but unlike them you understood there had to be a deeper reason, at least there had to be... right? "Well he's coming," you didn't know what else to say. You saw the silent conversation between Bossk and Boba wondering if you were about to catch in the crossfire, "What's the plan?"

"We'll see what he does when we land."

The moment you land hell erupts you and boba barely getting off the ramp finding Bane there guns drawn glaring, "Wan'da little lady, hand'er over," he was staring directly at Boba. If his eyes weren't already crimson they would have been with the rage rolling off of him. His pinky tapped against the butt of the gun waiting, he wanted to look at you but didn't want a distraction in cause this went south.

"We're busy," Boba glared Bossk and Embo following standing behind us, "You're the one who's going to hurt her Bane, not us," Boba added.

"Bessst be leaving," Bossk hissed.

"Gimme the girl an' I'll be gone," he watched fangs bared as Bossk pointed his blaster at your head and it was not on stun, "Don' dink 'bout it."

"Bane..." fear laced your voice as much as you tried to hide it your eyes looking at the blaster then at him, "I don't know what's going on in your head but please, go."

"What ya said gave meh to much to dink'bout, so yer comin with meh," he exhaled calculating how fast he could shoot and drop them before they dropped you realizing his odds were good but not great.

"Cowboy, it's been a great ride... but for me, you have to go," we're you putting his safety over yours? The things people do in the name of love, by the look in his face you no one had ever done that for him.

He snarled looking at them but he backed into the shadows furious at himself for stepping away. He listened for what seemed forever when he heard one blaster shot ring out. Bane seethed fist curling around his pistols even more enraged that he let his emotions get the better of him m. He'd uncharacteristically shown his weakness the one thing he had tried to strengthen Boba against so he wouldn't make the same mistake his father did and they killed you for being his. Bane wanted to turn around, stand his ground and make them pay but the pleading in your voice for him to go kept him walking, He'd face worse odds before but there was a time and place for revenge.

"Mr. Bane?" Todo asked.

"Dey killed her," he said, his voice laced with defeat as he climbed back into the Justifer, alone.

"That sshould buy uss time," Bossk hissed.

"That farking hurt!" You snapped grabbing the wound, Embo already returning with the med kit.

"Had to make it convincing," Boba shrugged, "Complete this bounty, you won't need to worry about needing Bane to make a name for yourself."

"No but I'll have to worry about you sticking your neck out for me, we both know he'll be back with a vengeance," you had a choice, you could earn yourself the respect to work alone or you could keep them from waring each other.

Bane put a leg up on the dash letting the other bounce realizing how much of his life had fallen apart, mentor dead, person he considered a friend turned out to a Jedi in disguise, getting injured, losing a major bounty and now this. He stuck a toothpick between his teeth and set his hat in his lap wondering about the exactly moment everything went wrong.

"Mr. Bane! Look!" Todo said pointing the limping figure towards the ship.

Bane didn't look he put his hat back on and ran to the ramp, "Yer alive," he said dumb founded grabbing your limping form from the bottom of it.

"Don't make me regret un-faking my death," you gridded out the steps up the ramp causing the pain in your leg to make you grunt, "Already regret it," you groaned forcing yourself to sit down the moment you were up the ramp.

"Why'd ya do it?"

"Come back? I didn't want you blaming yourself, the bounty was tempting however," you admitted, "could have made a name for myself," you mumbled.

" 'gain why didn' ya?" Bane poked.

"Don't make me say it again," you groaned standing up finally feeling the patch start to work, "First time was bad enough," because it had, it had hurt to admit the truth. You never had the intention of telling him, happy to just let things be but there was rarely a moment you couldn't read him and standing there dropping you off there was nothing you understood then again trying to get you back the look on his face said he going to go down a war path he couldn't come back from and it would have been your fault if he got killed. You blinked as you felt his arm reach out and curl around you vice gripping you to his lean frame, "Bane?"

"Cad," he grumbled breathing in your scent no longer able to smell the iron over powering it, "just Cad."

You put your arms around him, not once had he ever voluntarily hugged you or hugged back, you felt his chest rumble almost like a pur. Your face nervously smiled not wanting to say anything, he tried to pull away but you pulled him closer listening to it, "I like it, although would be better without these," you said tapping the breathing tubes. He didn't even hesitate removing them dropping them to the floor before returning his arm around you. You seemed to melt closer to him, it sounded more authentic without the metal rattle.

His pulled his arm away, “Leave it,” he said looking down at the breathing piece tugging you by the hand to the cockpit, “Gotta gehet da ship outta here,” he said dropping your hand as he slide into the pilots seat.

Much to Todo’s hovering annoyance you took the copilot seat, “I hope you prematurely take off your patch.”

You rolled your eyes snatching the droid mid air and hugging him, “Careful lil fella, I might give ya an accent like Bane’s and make you sing,” you teased releasing the companion, you chuckling as that instilled the fear of the maker in him because he knew how good and fast you could reprogram him.

“Mr. Bane you’re not going to let her… right?!”

The Duros chuckled, “Maybeh.”

“I’m going to go lay down,” you yawned forgetting how draining the patches were. It didn’t take long before you heard foot steps behind you, stalking your movement to the bunk room.

“Don’ dink bout hopin up there,” he voiced watching you look up, “ ‘mer,” he said taking off his hat resting it on a post and climbed into the bunk. He watched you stare at him, “ ‘Mer, ain’t gonna bite ya,” he watched you climb in and he wrapped himself around you practically half laying on you. Life had broken him down, but thinking you were dead had destroyed him albeit temporarily. He felt your arm wrap around him feeling nails lightly in his back not lustful but in need of his solidarity. Bane’s lip twitched as that infernal purring started again.

“What do have you have to think about?”

“Ya really didn’ know how I feel?” He whispered.

It was weird seeing the bounty hunter who astutes confidence and authority in every moment seem so.. just human, “No. I never expected to see you again either.” The purring stopped replaced with a momentary growl, “Bane?” You said tilting your head to him, “What is it?” He was silent. “Cad?”

“Da feelin’ mutual,” he felt compelled to say after hearing his name on your lips. The purring started and he heard you make a small happy hmm noise. He didn’t need to say it, you both knew what he meant. “When it’s meh and you, it’s Cad.”

“Cad,” the name rolled off your tongue like expensive spotchka, “Only I get to call you?” he nodded. Your hand roamed his head gently and the other light stroked his back, “I don’t regret it anymore,” you teased, “so cowboy, what’s next?”

“For ya missy? Go ta’bed, wanna enjoy dis,” he said exhaling enjoying the scent of you and feel of you finally touching him, “Maybeh we go ta’beh,” he mumbled feeling heavier and suddenly tired.

“Let’s go to bed… Cad,” you smiled turning a little more into the blue space cowboy’s embrace hearing the pur slowly stop as both of you fell asleep.