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prolix-yuy · 5 months

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Beautiful Release

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an agreement. Simple, clean, easy. But not this time.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, IT'S PEGGING DIN TIME! Anal sex (m receiving), rough sex, sex toys, fingering (m receiving), handjob, frottage, blowjob, swallowing, cumshot, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), mild dubcon (Reader isn't aware of Din's mental state and stops the session to re-negotiate boundaries), painful sex, sex as self-flagellation, hurt/comfort.

Notes: Welcome to my addition to the Peg That Middle Aged Man Event 2024! This idea had been bumping around in my brain and this gave me the perfect excuse to write it. Thanks @wannab-urs for organizing this event, making the gorgeous banners, and giving me a chance to live my fantasies after S3 gave us the most delicious kneeling restrained Din image. I will never forget it, it's burned into my brain forever.

Set after S2 and before The Book of Boba Fett.

Cross-posted on AO3

He’s come to you before, but never like this.

Din always treats your encounters like serendipity, but from the first time you’ve known how far from the truth that is. He finds ways to drift into your path, tilting his helmet like he never expected you to be at this spaceport, which you prefer for its discretion, or in this cantina, which serves a hell of a barium fizz. The niceties always devolve into the silent request, which you never fail to fulfill.

But now, there’s a holomessage blinking on your control panel.

Send me your coordinates. Usual encoding.

It’s brisk, cold, mostly to protect you both, but even then something’s off. He’s never admitted to seeking you out. Something stirs deep in your stomach, consulting the encoding slug he gave you ages ago in case you ever needed him. Funny, the first time you’d use it would be because you think he needs you.

Your winding relationship with Din Djarin began at the business end of a blaster, but you can’t fault him for that. The ship you were flying then had all the hallmarks of a slaver vessel, but when he found your crew of rebel sympathizers he lowered his weapon. One escort and a few short-lived conversations later, and you’d forged a razor-thin alliance.

Your paths wound their way across and through each other for over a year, and in that time Din warmed to you. He gave you his name, his allegiances, his contacts if needed. In return you forged documents and built jammers for his ramshackle ship. Mutually beneficial, and after a time pleasantly warm. His laugh always surprised you, a low chuckle when you turned a phrase just right on him.

And the kid! The curious little gremlin that had been accompanying him more in recent times did help to smooth the rough spots. Grogu’s presence always brightened your days, brief moments of pure joy from his tireless antics. Din seemed to be ever the exasperated protector, but when he tucked Grogu into his arm his aura glowed.

However, the times when Din “stumbled” upon you with seemingly no purpose had little to do with play dates or trades. Well, maybe only in the most euphemistic sense.

It was on a cargo run - cargo being more frightened people fleeing under the guise of your fake shipping business - that Din first encountered what would bring him back to you time and time again. There was a man among the stowaways who took an interest in you, the feeling mutual. He wound his way around like a lothcat in heat, and when you whispered how you might be able to pass the time he enthusiastically agreed.

You weren’t much of an exhibitionist, but the ship wasn’t meant for privacy. So when Din happened upon you bending the man over a cargo crate, your strap slickly splitting him open as he moaned behind your clamped hand, you did feel some mild embarrassment. You weren’t sure how long he watched you thrust into the other man, but the little cough that alerted you to his presence made you turn and take him in.

He was clearly affected, hand gripping his belt as the other clenched by his side. Fascinating. The Mandalorian had surprises in store.

The man garbled about sucking Din’s cock, letting the Mando cum on his face while you pounded his tight hole, but you stuck your fingers in his mouth and picked up your rhythm again. You’d met other Mandalorians in your travels, but Din’s particular religion was much stricter than most. He might take hefty offense if you assumed any of the armor could come off. Instead you let him watch without comment as your companion came all over the side of the cargo crate, soothing him through the aftershocks. As you cleaned him up you noticed your audience fled, and you determined never to speak of this.

It would take two months for Din to come to you.

“People like this?” he asked when you showed him your strap and assortment of attachments. You shrugged, picking out the one you secretly thought he’d enjoy.

“Some do, some don’t. It’s just one of many things I like,” you said, leaning against your bedroom wall as he filled the small space with restless energy. “I’m sure you like plenty of things too.”

There it was. The little roll of the shoulders and flex of a hand that told you Din wasn’t as inexperienced as some would believe.

“Never tried something like this,” he mumbled, and you smiled under the knowledge that he was nervous. Din Djarin, feared throughout the galaxy, and dearer friend than you ever expected, had something he wanted and didn't know how to ask for.

“Would you like to try it?” you said, taking the last barrier away. He tilted the helmet down, fingers restless on his hip.

“Yes.”

That first night you didn’t fuck him, though by the end he was so close to begging you almost came from the sound. Instead you opened him up with your fingers, got him used to the feeling of fullness and how to connect it to pleasure, while he laid on your bed and gripped the sheets so hard you thought he’d rip them. His pants bunched across his thighs, you got to admire the cords of muscle rippling as you made him shake and choke. His cock, velvety and weeping on his stomach, made your mouth water, but you only offered to suck it when he was just on the precipice. Your hot mouth wrapping around his head, two clever fingers stroking his prostate, tipped him over into bliss as he shouted his completion. Pride swelled in your chest at his belabored breath, chestplate heaving and thighs quivering on either side of your head.

When you returned from cleaning up he was already dressed again, despite your protests to wait and let you ease him down from this new experience. He thanked you, awkwardly, and left quickly. Lying in the same bed that night, still smelling of him, you reasoned with yourself. He probably had a lot of feelings to sort out, both around his pleasure and the fact that you gave it to him. You hoped he trusted you enough to know you’d be discreet. And, as your fingers slid into your underwear, you hoped he’d seek you out again.

It was only a week before you were at the same spaceport again, his heavy boots clanking up your ramp. You tried to hide your own nerves, but when Din stood before you and let the visor drag up and down your body, a delicious grin crept onto your face.

“Ready to try more?”

Indeed he was.

He enters your ship without preamble, a brief flit of concern clouding your features at how quickly he disarmed your security measures. You weren’t expecting him for another hour. He must have jumped to get to you.

It’s thrilling, to know the Mandalorian’s need is so great.

But when he enters and closes the door behind him, the energy is…off. Not seductive, teasing, edged like the other times. No, he’s holding his body so tight and so still. There’s nothing aggressive in it, but you glimpse why his enemies fear him. Without a face, and with so much obscuring the flesh beneath, you’re not sure when he’ll strike.

He catches you rummaging through your drawer, the strap in your hand. Assessing, you give him a gentler smile than usual, hands visible, softening your stance.

“Hello, Din.”

He nods, quickly, unbuckling his belt and yanking his cape free. Both fall to the floor carelessly. You press on.

“How about you tell me what you want?” you say, watching him carefully as he opens his pants plaquet. The mouthwatering strip of skin you covet peeks from beneath his top.

“Just need…need this,” he says, and while naturally a man of few words you’d taught him to be more vocal in this respect.

“Okay, Din. How about you kneel on the bed and we start there?” Your voice lowers into a soothing register, reaching for his arm.

“No,” he almost shouts, startling your hand back. He recovers. “No, I want…” You can practically hear him licking his lips on a sigh, slowing himself down. “Can you sit against the headboard?”

Brows raised, you nod. He’s never ridden you before, always preferring to let you take him from behind or on his back. Pulling the strap-on over your leggings, you settle against the headboard and wait for him. He doesn��t take long, kneeling on the bed briefly in contemplation before swinging over your lap. Shucking his pants half down his legs, you can’t resist a giggle.

“Might be better to take them off,” you tease, letting your hands lay featherlight on his hips. A huff crackles through the vocoder but he doesn’t move to disrobe further.

“I’ll open you up a bit first,” you say, one hand reaching for lube while the other snakes its way to his hole. You encounter surprising slickness, but he’s nowhere as warmed up as you get him.

“S’okay, I took care of it,” he mumbles, both hands coming up to grip the headboard above your head. Slicking lube on the dildo, you move to finger him enough to ease your way in.

“Just a little more…”

“I’m fine.”

The curt retort snaps your face to the helmet, now more of a cowled chin and shining halo of beskar above your head. There’s something bubbling uncomfortably under the surface, something you feel the need to drag out by the scruff of the neck, but it’s Din. You never talk feelings with Din. Frankly, you barely talk at all during, or after, any of your nights together.

“Sorry,” he breathes, forcing relaxation. “I’m ready. Please.”

Your eyes linger for a moment longer, then you circle the base of your cock in waiting.

He descends slowly, gritted breaths and sharp blasts of air from his nose echoing above you. You watch the strain in his thighs as he sinks and sinks, his cock only half-hard against his stomach. Leaving a hand on one hip, you stroke soothing paths up and down his lower back, watching for discomfort. Instead he’s marble around you, coiled, body not releasing as usual. Normally when you fuck him he dissolves, rolling his hips back onto you and choking out praises of how good you feel.

None of that comes. He meets the base of your cock and immediately slides back up at an almost punishing pace. He can’t be that acclimated yet, and his pained hisses and grunts only make that more apparent.

“Din, slow down,” you request, hands firmer on his hips to try and even his pace. If he heard you he says nothing, now slamming his hips down on your cock. “Din,” you beseech again, nails starting to dig in. His grunts grow to growls, something from the heat of battle, your headboard creaking from his crushing grip.

Clarity overtakes you, the shudder of his stomach and forceful downstrokes only getting more intense. There wasn’t pleasure in this. Something is eating up Din inside and he’s trying to fuck it out of himself. And he’s using you to do that.

“Din Djarin, STOP.”

The echo of your voice, strong and steely, finally brings Din to a stop with your cock buried deep in his ass. His chest heaves in front of you, limbs quivering from the exertion, but he’s as still as he can be. Gripping his chestplate, you push him back enough to look him in the visor, your anger righteously reflected back.

“You don’t punish yourself with my cock,” you order, teeth clenched and seething. “Do you think so little of me, that I’d just let you rip yourself to shreds without a word?”

Din freezes, but this time you know it’s shame. If you were in a clearer headspace you might have tried reassurance, or asked him to lay beside you and talk about what’s destroying him, but you’re just too upset.

“Is that all you come to me for?” you spit out, knuckles aching from gripping his armor. He’s silent for long enough that you consider throwing him out before he speaks.

“Something happened. And I just want to…be empty. To not think about it every moment.” He leans forward and your visage warps as he presses his forehead to the crown of your head. The anger thrums but starts to ebb as he folds around you. “I didn’t know where else to go. You’ve always taken care of me. More than I deserve.”

The sadness in his voice is palpable, and even with your mouth still sour from his deception you find the compassion to wrap your arms around his middle. The chestplate presses into your cheek, a metronome for Din’s slowing breaths.

“If you have any care in your heart for me, don’t ever do that again,” you grit out. Din’s breath catches.

“I care for you,” he says, and a door in your heart you never realized was cracked widens for Din’s admission.

“I care for you too, you karking asshole, which is why I want you to say something instead of trying to hate fuck your feelings out.”

Din’s chest begins to shake again, but you’re sure it’s laughter this time. You manage a giggle of your own, letting him lean back and look at you again. The motion shifts your cock in him, and his sharp sigh arches your brow.

“If you wanted to forget, you could have just told me,” you say, rolling your hips sensuously up into his clenching hole. Din’s head drops back, grip tightening on the headboard again as you grind into him.

“Please,” he begs, so soft and vulnerable you can’t help but give him what he needs.

Slowly you press up into him, guiding his hips to rock on your cock. You love the feel of his ass in your hands, well muscled and perfect for grabbing, manhandling him just enough to show he can let go. He follows your direction reluctantly at first, but as you plant your feet and start thrusting with more range he loosens. You can feel it in his arms, holding on to the headboard for dear life, and the building rhythm of his hips meeting yours. For a man whose life is violence, you never want to bring that into your sessions. But a light swat on one asscheek pulls the most delicious moan from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he groans, bearing down on you even more. Tilting your hips, you arch his back enough that you’re sure to hit his prostate on the next thrust.

“Maker!”

There it is.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper. Waiting a moment, you zero in on that perfect spot inside him and hit it with every one of your thrusts. “Do you feel that? Feel how good I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, fuck,” Din curses, one hand flitting down to squeeze the base of his cock. He’s at full attention now, head bobbing against your stomach. You swell with pride that he’s having to stave off his orgasm so quickly, but you’ll be the one to make those decisions now.

“All I want you to think about is how good you feel,” you purr, tugging his hand away and replacing it with your own. You long for his skin against yours, so you pull up your shirt to skim the head of his cock against your soft belly. He chokes, stuttering away but he’s trapped between your hand and thighs.

“Wait, Maker, I’ll cum if you…” he garbles, but his body keeps meeting your grinds. You shush him gently, stroking from base to tip and smearing precum over the head.

“You will, but only when I let you. You know I’ll make it good for you, make nothing but this pleasure you’re feeling fill that head of yours.” His rapid nod almost knocks you in the head with the beskar, but he manages to tuck into your neck instead. The helmet is a shocking cool against your skin, but the act of burrowing into you must be rewarded. Bringing your arms around him, you press along the length of his body, trapping his cock between.

“I’m gonna pound into this tight ass until you cum all over us. You like that?” The wail Din lets out shoots heat to your cunt, wishing more than anything that you’d opted for a toy that gave you a little stimulation too. Instead you hammer fast and hard, barely pulling out. Your hips and thighs burn with exertion at his bulk on top of you, but he’s frantically bouncing back and rutting his cock into the wet mess your bodies make.

“Don’t stop,” he gasps, and you’re not sure if it’s the vocoder but you think his voice sounds watery. “Please, cyar’ika, don’t stop.”

Cupping the back of his neck, damp with sweat, you whisper, “I’ve got you.”

With a handful of final pumps you’re coated in his cum, sliding around your belly as he seizes over and over. Pressing deep, you hold strong against his shuddering body as he finishes. Each weakening thrust draws him down on you, heavier and loose-limbed.

The armor makes it hard to find the soft spots, so you take to kneading the back of his neck and palming his spine. Before his last aftershock, you urge him higher on his knees so you can slip your cock out - slowly, so as not to shock his jellying body. Easing him down, you hold his head in the crook of your neck and settle him on your lap. His hands slide down from the headboard to your shoulders.

Then you hear it. A tiny sniff, then another. You can’t pretend you didn’t notice them so close to your ear. So you gather the broad man in your arms and hold him. His hands don’t know where to rest, finally winding loosely around your lower back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” you tell him again, and the sniffing starts to recede. His body, however, slumps against yours, and it takes all of your strength not to start giggling.

You fucked the Mandalorian right to sleep. Bravo to you.

When Din finally stirs, a deep rumble in his throat, it’s been almost an hour. Your toes are half numb and you’re dying to shift into any other position, but much like a lothcat falling asleep on your lap, you couldn’t bear to move Din. Especially when he started snoring, one of the most endearing and hilarious sounds you’d ever heard him make.

In the time he slept you wondered what happened. What terrible thing hollowed him out and haunts him. Something keeps him up at night, if the depth of his sleep is any indication. Recent, possibly. Traumatic.

Your breath caught in your throat. If something happened to Grogu you know he would have told you. You ask after him all the time, teasing that you’ll be his Auntie (Din always says he has plenty of them across the galaxy).

Had you seen the Razor Crest fly up? Where was that old bird anyway?

What happened in the time since Din last saw you?

The cycle of possibilities always ends the same. Maybe he cares for you in some way, but not enough for you to ask. No matter how much you want to.

A shift on your lap alerts you to Din waking, kneading his shoulders and neck lightly to alert him to your presence. He’s never slept with you before, but it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that he’s quick to draw at unexpected circumstances. Of which this one definitely is.

“What…” Din croaks, and if not for the helmet you would have offered him water.

“It’s okay, you’re on my ship. You’re okay.”

It takes Din another minute to realize what’s happened. Him, half naked on your lap with your strap pressing against his ass. You, covered in drying cum beneath him. In a flash he’s swinging his leg off your lap, attempting to stand but obviously they’ve gone as numb as yours because he stumbles and crashes out of sight.

“Oh kriff, are you…?” you start to ask, but as quick as he’s out of sight he pops back up again, tugging up his pants and tucking himself away.

“Sorry, that was…I didn’t mean to…do that.”

All of the heaviness and anger and lust fizzles away to laughter as you try to suppress the ridiculousness of the moment. After a moment of indigent head tilting Din’s shoulder also shake, chuckles fuzzing out of the vocoder.

“Oh Maker, what an understatement that is,” you sigh, wiping your stomach with the edge of your bedsheets. Din visibly cringes, hands on his hips.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes, but you wave it off.

“I’ve had much worse, believe me,” you shoot back. Clean enough, you sit on the edge of the bed and look up at the inscrutable man.

“Want to talk about it?”

Din’s stance shifts, helmet tipping down for a moment before coming back to your face.

“...Not yet.”

You hum and nod. “Well, you know how to find me if you do.”

Din nods. “Thank you.”

As he picks up his effects you shimmy off the harness at the foot of the bed, mentally ticking through the steps to clean everything. Din watches you set it down, stilling until your eyes come back to him.

“It gives you pleasure as well?” he asks, which raises one of your eyebrows.

“I mean, about as much as rhythmically hitting your hips against someone can do.” His posture changes into something hard to decipher, so you continue. “I’ve got a few that do more for me, but it depends on the person I’m with. Comfort, boundaries. As you’re well aware.” You gesture to the armor, his chin tucking down to look at it.

“So you’ve never cum with me?” he asks, and a sudden feverish heat blooms under your skin. Din has a sex appeal you appreciate, but have never acted on beyond what he’s asked for. Now, something’s changed so dizzyingly fast you’re scrambling.

“Well, you’re pretty spent after our sessions. And you leave quickly. I don’t ask for more than you can give.”

Din takes a step towards you, putting his belt and cloak back down.

“What do you ask of other people you fuck?”

Your heart hammers in your chest. How can he turn the tables so quickly and spectacularly? Trying to gain the upper hand, you pull a confident face on and speak as breezily as possible.

“Most can’t get it up twice after I fuck them within an inch of their life, so fingers, tongues, toys, any and all of the above are excellent ways to repay the favor.”

He’s even closer now, and the facade is barely holding up. It’s like the vulnerability he showed you can’t possibly be returned.

“You’ve never asked me,” he says, and you can’t believe there’s a note of regret in his voice. The bed hits the back of your legs, and you steady your voice even though those words make your pussy throb.

“I didn’t think it was allowed.” Your voice drops low as Din steps into your space.

“Difficult, but not forbidden.” Din’s hands come to your shoulders. “Sit down, please.”

Your knees fold so fast you bounce on the bed, looking up at him. He joins you on one knee, hands coming to rest on your thighs.

“I broke my Creed. I would do it again, for the exact same reason, but now that makes me an apostate.” His hands come to the helmet, thumbs tucking underneath the lip.

“Din, what happened?”

He pauses, and you swear you can feel his gaze through that smoky visor.

“Close your eyes.”

Darkness surrounds you, then a hiss and a thunk.

Then the voice of a man you care for, unfiltered and bare.

“I’m not ready for anyone to see my face. But I want this, with you. If you can forgive me.”

You could be dreaming still. It would make just as much sense.

“I forgive you, Din. But just this once,” you sneak in at the end just to hear how melodic his laugh sounds. Then his hand splays over your stomach and urges you to lie back.

“I hope you don’t mind teaching me this. I don’t have much experience,” he says, fire licking through your body as he tugs your leggings and underwear off.

“Don’t worry, you’re a quick learner,” you say breathily.

And when he finally kisses you, sweet with your musk on his tongue and your orgasm dripping from his fingers, you teach him how to do that as well.

END

"I need some distraction Oh a beautiful release Memories seep from my veins Let me be empty Oh and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.

Sarah McLachlan, Angel (yeah I know I used the sad dog song)

#PMAMC 2024 #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #prolix fics

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beskarandblasters · 4 months

Text

Was it all a dream?

Chapter Three: But it's not real and you don't exist

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Series summary: You’ve always had vivid dreams, an escape from your monotonous life. But one night, something appears in your dreams that keeps reoccurring; a pair of brown eyes. -Or- Two people, in completely different parts of the galaxy, find each other in their dreams and try to make sense of the strange connection they share.

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), switches between Reader and Din’s POV, story takes place in the dream realm and the real world, takes place somewhere between the end of season two/Book of Boba Fett/beginning + middle of season three, eventual smut, line between reality and dreams gets blurred, use of Mando’a words and phrases, no use of y/n

Chapter summary: In your dream, you confront the strange man and find out who he really is.

Word count: 2.9k

Chapter warnings: first date awkwardness

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

You

The brisk wind stings your eyes. The air is thinner, harder to breathe. You look down at what’s beneath your feet; a sharp drop. Bad idea. The world feels like it’s spinning around you, nausea pooling in your stomach.

Stop. Close your eyes and breathe, you tell yourself.

You try and ground yourself as best as you can, accepting that you’re aware you’re dreaming again before opening your eyes slowly, keeping your gaze outwards instead of below you.

You’re in the mountains, no idea where exactly. Is this planet even real? Wherever you are it’s beautiful, despite the cold air and the dizziness. The moon is full and bright over the horizon line. The sky is decorated in beautiful shades of purple. And the mountains are graced with a light layer of snow. A pinch of snow lifts off the mountains, carried by the wind. You look over your shoulder and look for a place to go that isn’t at the edge of a cliff. More snow. More rocks. It’s better than falling. For a split second, you wonder what would happen if you just walked off the edge of the mountain. Would you wake up? Would you die?

That’s a question you’d rather not answer right now, despite the curiosity. You’re the only set of footprints here. Maybe you really are alone for once.

Carefully you step through the snow, keeping the pressure on your feet light for fear of waking something up or causing attention to yourself. But it seems you’re the only living thing even here.

Until you hear a sound in the distance.

You turn and see him, at the forest’s edge. Where did he even come from? Where do you go from here? Do you run? Do you hide? It doesn’t matter because you can’t do anything. You’re frozen with fear. He’s coming toward you and you’re having flashbacks to the last time this happened.

Run. Get out of here. Wake up.

But.

You.

Can’t.

And you shouldn’t. You need to be brave and confront him. It doesn’t matter if you’re scared. What’s going to happen here anyway? You’re dreaming.

“Hey,” the man says softly, grabbing your arm.

He must see the panicked expression on your face.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“How do I know that?” you say, eyes trailing down to the blaster on his hip.

He follows your gaze and grabs the blaster. You take a step back in fear but he just tosses the blaster over his shoulder, landing with a plop in the crunchy snow.

“Do you believe me now?”

“…I guess?” you sigh, searching for eye contact but he doesn’t give it to you. Instead, he keeps his gaze on the ground, your hands, or even your lips– never looking you in the eye.

“Do you know where we are?”

“We’re dreaming, that much I know.”

“But you don’t recognize this place?”

“Nope. Do you?”

“No…”

“I don’t understand why we seem to be connected.”

“I don’t either. I asked-”

“You asked someone about this?”

“I did. I take it you didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“I asked a Jedi.”

“Wow, you must be important if you know a Jedi,” you chuckle, hoping that he’ll appreciate the self-deprecating dig you just made but he doesn’t say anything. He’s lost in thought, staring off into space with an expression on his face that looks like he’s trying to put the pieces together.

“…Hello?”

“Her name is escaping me,” he says, snapping himself out of his trance.

“Oh. Well-”

“She told me I had to talk to you if I wanted to try and understand all of this.”

“I guess? But I’m just about as lost as you are.”

A sharp shiver runs down your spine. It’s impossibly cold, the wind harsh and biting. You look down at your clothes, something you never thought to do until now. You’re wearing a long-sleeved shirt with linen pants. If this is what you’ve been wearing in previous dreams then you don’t remember. Whatever. It doesn’t matter because it’s not shielding you well enough from the elements, not here at least.

“You’re cold,” he says, not like he cares but more so like he’s stating an observation.

“Thanks for stating the obvious?”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m trying to… ground myself.”

“I get it.”

“This is new for me. I never used to remember my dreams. Let alone be aware that I’m in one.”

“I remember my dreams every night but this is new for me, too.”

An awkward, uncomfortable silence hangs heavy in the air between you, too. You glance over at him, standing in the snow. The wind blows his curls back and the bright moonlight illuminates his brown eyes…. Maker, those eyes. How they used to scare you. But now you’re here with him up close, you can read nothing else in them besides confusion.

He’s bathed in the purple glow of the sky, looking at his surroundings and trying to ground himself as best he can. It’s hard to do that in a dream where nothing is real. None of this is real.

Is he real?

“Are you… real?” you blurt out. Probably not the best thing to ask him as he’s in the middle of disassociating but it just slipped out.

“What? Of course, I am,” he says. His head snaps back in your direction but his eyes look past you.

“How do I know that?”

“Well, are you real?”

“I think so but now you have me second-guessing.”

“Both of us panicking is doing us no good.”

“Can’t we just wake up whenever we want?”

“Yes, but… I don’t want to.”

“You don’t?

“No, I… need to find out more about this; about you… I want to trust you, I think.”

He folds his arms, the black sleeves tightening with the movement of his biceps. His brows are furrowed like he’s lost in thought, staring down at his feet and trying to piece all of this together.

“Okay… We’ve established that both of us are real.”

“Right,” he affirms.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

He pauses, brow furrowing even deeper at your question.

“We’re not going to build trust if you don’t tell me your name,” you point out.

“My name is Din,” he says after a beat of silence.

It’s a start.

You tell him your name and you feel the tension start to dissipate. But it doesn’t last long.

“Where are you from?” he asks.

There’s just one problem.

You don’t remember.

“I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I can’t remember.”

“That’s odd.”

“What about you? Where are you from?”

He stares off into space before a look of realization hits his face. He can’t remember either.

“I can’t recall…”

“Then how do we know that we’re real?”

“We’re real. I know we are.”

If he’s real can I touch him? What happens if do that?

“Walk with me,” he says, leading you away from the edge of the mountain and into the forest.

You walk beside him, wondering where he’s taking you but also not feeling nervous about it. The back of your hand brushes up against his. He’s real even if this place doesn’t feel real.

There’s a part of you that wants to trust him; that wants to learn more about him. Out of the corner of your eyes, you glance at him as he walks, eyeing the saunter in his step, the way he carries himself, holding his head high. His body language reads as someone who’s confident. But if he’s so confident why can’t he look you in the eye?

Before you have time to ponder the idea any further, he stops at a small stone cave, facing the tree line and illuminated by the majestic purple light seeping in.

“It’s not much but I can build us a fire here.”

“S-Sure. Thanks, Din,” you say, sitting at the mouth of the cave and watching as he collects small twigs and branches off the trees, aiming for ones that aren’t dusted with snow. He collects a bundle of pine needles, too, before heading back to the cave.

He sits opposite you and arranges the sticks in a tent-like fashion, setting the pine needles down in a nest beside it. He takes a stick and a flatter piece of wood, rubbing his hands together with the stick swirling in between them. Watching him do this makes you realize you’ve never actually built a fire before, not like this at least. There are no trees on Sullust. Everything you know about trees and flora on other planets comes from the library where you go to learn about far-off places that feel like they can actually sustain life, unlike the toxic cloud of gas that is Sullust. The process seems tedious and it pleasantly surprises you that a complete stranger is doing the most to keep you warm. Even in a dream where at the end of the day, none of this really matters.

Once he gets a small ember he dumps it over the nest of pine needles. He takes the needles in his hands cradling the small and fragile life he just worked hard to create. He places the small fledgling of fire at the base of the tent of sticks. Soon enough the flame catches, growing into a fire steady as a beating heart. And then it’s just the two of you, sitting across from each other with the fire in between, watching the way the light dances on the walls of the cave. It’s silent but not uncomfortable. It feels like you two have known each other a long time yet somehow you forgot the connection you once shared.

“I know we don’t remember where we’re from but… Do you remember what you do?” you ask.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” he says, not looking at you but looking at the flames. The fire lights up his already warm eyes, illuminating the brown into a shade of amber.

“Really?”

“Yes? Is that surprising?”

“To me I guess. Where I’m from everyone does the same thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“We all work in a factory.”

“You can’t remember where?”

“No, but… it’s kind of nice not to. I don’t like where I live.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“I guess. I don’t really have one place I stay at lately. I’m usually all over the galaxy.”

“That sounds like a dream.”

“Yes… But it would be nice to have just one place where I could feel at home.”

“Looks like we both have something we could learn from one another.”

He smiles, still looking down at the fire, but it’s a smile that he’s still unsure of.

“Din?”

“Hm?”

“Are you this shy normally?”

He freezes and you fear you might’ve overstepped.

“How do you know I’m shy?”

“You won’t look me in the eye.”

“Oh.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to if you don’t-”

“I don’t look like this normally.”

“No?”

“No, I don’t. I’m not used to this. I feel like I’m out of my element.”

You cock your head to the side and watch as he leans back against the wall of the cave, closing his eyes. Now that you’re not so afraid of him you can admire how beautiful he is. His strong arms strain the fabric of his black shirt. His facial hair is patchy (albeit in a cute way) and his nose is strong— it suits him. His hair is brown and curly, slightly matted down but you don’t know what from. He’s not wearing anything on his head. And his eyes. Maker how you wish he’d look you in the eye.

“I like how you look,” you say, the words slipping out absentmindedly as you admire him.

“Really?” he says, his eyes flying open and finally locking with yours.

“I do. And I know I don’t know what you look like outside of here but I’m sure you’re just as… handsome,” you say. You want to call him beautiful but you don’t know how he’ll react.

A boyish, lopsided smile graces his face, revealing a dimple you didn’t notice before. He opens his mouth to speak just as a large shiver runs down your spine.

“You’re still cold,” he says, getting up off the ground.

“I’m okay. Really-”

“Shh,” he says, sitting beside you and wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You can’t deny it feels nice for him to hold you like this. You lean into his touch and try to gauge what he smells like. He smells clean, like fresh laundry. It’s a comforting scent.

“Tell me more about yourself. What’s life like for you?” you ask, turning and looking at him.

He meets your gaze and doesn’t stray away from it. Maybe he’s finally building the confidence you know he deserves.

“Lonely. Ever since my son left it’s been just me.”

“Your son?”

“He’s not mine. I took him in,” he says quickly.

“Oh okay. Where is he?”

“Training with his own kind. Before him, it was just me.”

“So you got used to having someone else around and now you’re alone again?”

“Yeah… exactly.”

“I’m sorry, Din. I know what it’s like. When I’m not at work I’m alone… all the time. It’s nice and all until it’s not…”

“Right. Sometimes it’s nice being able to do whatever I want whenever I want but at night… that’s when I feel it the worst.”

“I get it,” you say, keeping your eye contact with him locked.

“It’s nice to know that someone does,” he says, leaning into you closer.

You’re so close to him, feeling his body heat, taking in his scent, looking at all of the details on his face… his lips. Maker, his lips.

Without thinking you lean forward and kiss him, feeling his facial hair tickle your skin but in a welcoming, inviting way. He’s stiff at first, startled by your sudden move but soon enough he’s melting into the kiss.

“I’m sorry,” you say, pulling away but still ghosting his lips.

“You’re sorry for that?” he chuckles. This time his warm breath tickles your face.

“Yeah-”

“Don’t be,” he says, interrupting you and going in for another kiss.

His hand moves to the back of your head, keeping you against his face. The only thing on your mind is to be closer— as close as you two could possibly be. Your hand cups his cheek, brushing your thumb over his facial hair. It tickles him slightly and he lets out a small chuckle into the kiss. Just as you’re shifting positions to straddle him, he slips away from your grasp. You’re falling into inky black nothingness.

When you open your eyes, you’re met with the ceiling yet again.

Kriff. Just as it was getting good.

It all felt so real. He has to be real. There’s no way someone that deep, complex, and… beautiful is just a product of your subconscious. He was so warm, so kind, so gentle with you. It makes you long for someone you’ve never even met in real life.

But back to the original question… He has to be real, right? He said he didn’t look like that in real life. That alone has your mind racing. What did he mean by that? Does he look different entirely? Does he wear different clothes? Is his hair different? Maybe his eye color?

Or he really does look like that in real life and he perceives himself differently; he’s insecure.

Regardless, you’re fixating on him, your dreams when you sleep start to slip into maladaptive daydreams. And you fantasize about what he’s like and what it would be like if he were here with you right now and—

Your alarm clock interrupts you. There’s no time for dreaming. It’s back to reality and another shift at the factory.

Din

He wakes up frustrated, grasping the air at nothing. You felt so soft, so delicate in his lap just now. Your skin, your scent, your lips were so inviting, putting his anxious mind at ease. He too thinks about what it would be like if you were here with him, pressed up against him in the small cot of the Razor Crest. He thinks about what it would be like if your sweet voice was reverberating off the metal walls. He thinks about what your skin feels like and what it sounds like when you cum and—

Don’t get carried away, Din, he tells himself.

As he gets up for the day reality settles in. He realizes that… he likes keeping you separate from his day-to-day life. As terrible as that sounds, it’s the start of a relationship without any strings attached, no real-life implications or consequences. It’s a secret for you two, not to be influenced by the world around you. If you’re even real, that is.

That doesn’t mean he won’t fantasize about you, however. And deep down, part of him knows that you do exist, tucked away in a part of the galaxy he doesn’t know if he can find.

Banners/dividers by @saradika-graphics

WIAD Tag list: @wannab-urs @hyzer34 @lupietra @milly-louise @hellfire-state-of-mind @dugiioh @handspunyarns @fckyeapedrothots99 @leithatnight @corazondebeskar @burntheedges @imherefordeanandbones @pamasaur @dameron-grant-spector @competitivedust @survivingandenduring @the-color-is-black @perennialdoll247 @littlegrungegirlaf @bluebeary-jay @angstyvirgin001 @missladym1981 @alltheotps @pedrostories @lahooozaherr @anoverwhelmingdin @djarins-cyare @dins-riduur-anthe @that1nerd-20 @kirsteng42

#wiad #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin series #din djarin x you #din djarin x fem!reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #ppcu fanfiction

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gffa · 9 months

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Hi Lumi. This year I’ve watched The Clone Wars, Rebels, Mandalorian, Book of Boba Fett, and Tales of the Jedi and I’m watching Ahsoka as episodes are released. But I feel like I’m missing some context as to why people are wary of Filoni. What things should I know so I’m caught up, so to speak, in the fandom discussions?

Hi! That's a lot of Star Wars to watch in a year, I hope you're having fun with it all! And I will gently remind everyone that Filoni is not the be-all-end-all of Star Wars creators--Henry Gilroy was there for TCW and Rebels, too. George Lucas was holding writers' meetings years after the show started (at least into 2010!). The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett are far more Jon Favreau's shows. The Bad Batch is Brad Rau and Jennifer Corbett. Resistance was developed by him, but was run by other producers. It's just that Filoni tends to get the most camera time and has become the face of Star Wars creators. That said, the issue with Filoni is kind of two-pronged, though, they overlap. 1. He's done a lot of interviews where he's said a lot of anti-Jedi things that have drifted from reasonable critiques in the beginning to eventually "Qui-Gon Jinn was the only true Jedi. [blatantly wrong citations]" This has put a lot of people off him as a creator, because we love the Jedi Order that Lucas talks about and established, which Filoni has actively contradicted over the years, despite being promoted as someone who follows Lucas' themes. And it's hard not to be aware of his interviews when watching his shows and it's hard to enjoy shows that do your faves dirty, you know? 2. His writing has become weaker over the years for a lot of us--Rebels is a show most of us love and found to be incredible. Many of us really love The Clone Wars, which he was heavily involved in/was probably the central voice after Lucas started phasing out. But his biggest story told over the course of those series--basically, the story of Mandalore's history and fall to the Empire--has been extremely thin for a lot of us. And a lot of us get frustrated at his inability to be objective when it comes to Ahsoka's character, that we love her as a character very much, but it hasn't felt like Filoni really knows what to do with her character arc and yet almost everything he writes is centered around her. His final season of The Clone Wars? Gave her the walkabout arc and the Siege of Mandalore arc, both of which often did not hold up well under scrutiny. His episode of The Book of Boba Fett? I actually really loved it, but it absolutely just stopped the pacing of that show to focus a lot on her. More on Luke, but he couldn't resist putting her in there, either. Tales of the Jedi was half devoted to Ahsoka and so much of it wasn't even about her time as a Jedi! We're frustrated because he doesn't set things up well anymore--Morgan Elsbeth is a Nightsister?? Why wasn't that established in The Mandalorian instead of pulling out randomly in Ahsoka? Why does Sabine Wren suddenly so badly want Jedi training, when they barely even had a conversation in Rebels?? There's a lot of good that Filoni has given to Star Wars, I think he genuinely cares about the Force and what it means--he's very consistent on how it's not easy and how it takes discipline and control, that he has been consistent on how anger and fear are paths to the dark side, even his episode of TBOBF had Ahsoka saying, yeah, attachment is a path to the dark side, because the Jedi mean "attachment" in a more Buddhist-aligned way. A lot of his writing for the character of Ahsoka is actually pretty good, like I've been enjoying her being a prickly, traumatized hot mess in the show! It's just that I kind of hate all the interviews he gives and I think he's a lot less objective than a lot of fans and media coverage that would hold him up as a perfect writer/interviewee about all things Star Wars, and it all comes together to make him kind of a hot-button topic.

So, a lot of people LOVE Filoni's work, a lot of people are frustrated by it, a lot of people are casually fine about it, a lot of people HATE Filoni's work and it can be a fun mix of any of the above or even other issues that come up. (And that's all fine! I have my views on Filoni's work, but it's fine if others hate it more than I do or love it more than I do, there's room for us all, all of it is valid.)

But I think if you want to understand some of the roots of this corner of fandom's frustration, two (admittedly long as heck) homework assignment reads would be:

- My own rebuttal to Dave's behind the scenes Mandalorian Gallery talk (this is jokingly referred to as "Davegate" because I refused to take it too seriously) - @david-talks-sw's collection of comparisons between Lucas' commentary on the Jedi and Filoni's commentary on the Jedi

This response itself is more focused on laying out the problems a lot of people have with Filoni's writing, but also honestly I still have my giant collection of Jedi source material citations that quotes his commentary, I still bring up Filoni's quotes in current meta a lot, I still talk positively about the things I enjoy from his shows, so overall there's equal amounts of both praise and criticism here. So, as short as I can make it (which isn't very, shut up, I know! XD), that's basically what people mean when they say they're wary of Filoni.

#star wars #dave filoni #meta

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sinisterexaggerator · 10 months

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It has come to my attention that some people think Cad Bane is not overtly emotional and it makes me want to direct them to the source material. ✌🏻

Cad Bane is a cold-blooded killer, but he is also hot-headed with a foul temperament. He experiences fear. He experiences betrayal. He is spiteful. He is not above seeking revenge. He is easily annoyed. He also shows concern for his droid. To me, it is obvious he is hiding behind a callous exterior his true feelings, and he has little patience, but deep down he feels the full gamut of human ( alien ) emotions, and he's not always cool, calm, and collected.

Here are specific examples:

The many

Many

Many times Bane gets annoyed with Rako Hardeen.

That time he was totally betrayed and lost his shit.

That time he almost died in the fan blades. "Turn it off!"

That time the Jedi invaded his mind (but you gotta give him credit for holding out as long as he did).

That time he was a total dork and was so proud of himself for catching a lightsaber. "Ha ha!" (this one’s a bonus).

That time he snapped and asked the Hutts, "somethin' funny?" (Check your attitude, Mr. Bane.)

The time Ziro ruined his good mood and wiped the smile off his face. "I don't work for free."

That time he got annoyed with his employers in the Book of Boba Fett and was a smart ass.

That time Anakin Skywalker almost killed him and Rako interfered.

That time he was all grouchy with the Chancellor. "I make de rules now!"

That time he got super annoyed with the droid "Are you a medical droid?"

That time Fennec sabotaged his ship and left him stranded.

Also, in the audiobook he spent the entire time bitching, moaning and complaining about Dooku, Hardeen, and Eval, and called them things like "gasbag," and "fools," not to mention the sassy, snarky over the top performance he gave throughout the whole story. He hissed to imitate Bossk for God's sake.

Basically, this man might snap at the drop of a hat. These are the scenarios I can think of off the top of my head.

Oh, and he talks BIG GAME. Talks himself up. Says cheesy shit, scary shit, and is sometimes just a goofball.

“I’ve killed so many clones over de years …Once ye figure out one, de rest are easy.” *Looks casually at his toothpick*

“I make de rules now!”

“By hook or by crook, yer comin’ with me …”

He literally refers to someone as a bubble brain.

“I’ll take on any job … *dramatic pause* fer de right price.”

“Ye ain’t got de skills to be going up against me (to Shand).”

Etc, etc, etc.

Now imagine a young, fiery Bane in his youth. Mm.. love me a feisty cowboy. 👽🥵

#cad bane #headcanons #duros #star wars #thoughts #character study #bad batch #book of boba fett #clone wars #Extras

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dindjarindiaries · 1 month

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Din's biggest qualities are definitely his biggest Achilles' heel. He is too loyal. Too selflessly devoted. Like someone else said in a reblog of your post, his faith often blinds him. He will sell his soul and give his life for whoever and whatever he's fighting for, with little to no consideration for his own life. While I think he is aware of his skills and capacities, he doesn't seem to care about himself as a person. I wonder if he even knows much anything about himself. He follows the Way because that's what's right, but did he ever stopped and wondered what he gets from it? Why does he do it? Who is he, as an individual?

Din's idea of self-worth is if he's useful to someone. Whether it's the covert, friends, Mandalore, even Grogu. In a way, he can't exist alone. His arc in Book of Boba Fett is a perfect example of that. While highly honorable, it also makes him dangerously vulnerable.

And this is highly ironic because he was advertised as a loner for season 1. His whole thing was that he lived on his own, for himself. Clearly we know that's never been the case lol, everything he does is to serve the people around him.

#din djarin #you have spoken

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therhythmafterthesummer · 1 year

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Alone Together (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: SpacePirate!Minho x Smuggler!F.Reader Themes: Sci-Fi AU (barely) | Smut | Established Relationship (kind of) | Lovers (idiots) to Even More Lovers (affectionate) Word Count: ~8k | AO3 Synopsis: Minho was a man on the run, an outlaw. He was always getting himself into trouble, thieving and fighting against the people that perpetuated an unfair system that did nothing but bring pain to those the system considered lowly and unworthy. For his next mission, he decided to ask for help from the person he trusted most in this world, you. Warnings: star wars concepts used very loosely and probably very poorly · made up locations · mentions of slavery and morally questionable situations · the term suicide mission is used once · your honour they’re sickly in love · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Author’s Note: i started watching the book of boba fett, and it seems like it’s impossible for me to watch anything star wars related without wanting to write about people boning in space. so this piece was born ! it’s incredibly self-indulgent, but i hope someone else out there gets to enjoy it too~

this was barely proof-read, so if anything sounds weird don’t hesitate to let me know lol

Smut Warnings: this is very vanilla tbh · praise · fingering [F.Rec] · protected penetration [piv].

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

As an outlaw, Minho’s entire livelihood depended on him not attracting too much attention to himself, on laying low and being as stealthy as possible. Which was why it almost felt counterintuitive to be here right now, trying to get his ship caught on the radars of a cargo ship. Although, to be fair, it wouldn’t have been the first time he tried to get into this cargo ship in this exact same way, but usually he’d have a bit more preparation than this.

“Shit… Here we go. Buckle up, boys”, Minho informed his crewmates.

Their entire starcraft shook violently as the gravitational beam of the much bigger starship pulled them towards it. They were discovered almost as soon as they came close to the vessel, and Minho had honestly taken a leap of faith with this move, because this could’ve gone two ways: like it was going right now, them being pulled towards the hangar within the starship, or they could’ve been shot down on sight.

Getting within the perimeter of a smuggler ship was always dangerous, especially when done unannounced, but Minho was desperate, so he did what he had to do.

As soon as his ship was parked within the hangar, he unbuckled his safety belt, standing up and stretching his limbs. “Guys, get ready. Remember what I said, no sudden movements, no arguing, just follow my lead, okay?”

Hyunjin and Felix nodded in understanding, getting out of their seats and stretching as well, just as loud thuds started to resonate within the crammed space they called their ‘navigation room’. That was a bold claim, this ship consisted only of that navigation room, small enough to go undetected when needed, but not that good for long periods of time travelling, he’d admit.

“Open up, hands in the air!”

Minho nodded to his crewmates, and once they both lifted their arms he hit the door’s button on his console.

Four super battle droids stood right outside, with their blasters pointed right at them. Minho hadn’t seen this model of droid before, they must’ve been one of your latest acquisitions, and somehow, that thought brought a smile to his face. However, new droids meant that they wouldn’t know who he was, which also meant things could get out of hand really quickly.

“Step out!”

Minho got off the ship first, with his hands in the air as instructed, followed by Hyunjin and Felix. The droids immediately took a hold of their wrists, rather forcefully, and it made him wince.

“Hey! We’re cooperating, don’t be so harsh, jeez…” The droids completely ignored Minho, simply continuing their task of holding their wrists behind their backs and binding them together.

“Names, and what were you doing fluttering around this ship?”

“I’m Minho. These are Hyunjin and Felix”, Minho replied simply, gesturing with his head as he named his two crewmates. “We came to speak with your captain”.

“Our captain has no time to deal with stowaways”, one of the droids scoffed, pointing their blaster right to Minho’s forehead.

He couldn’t help but smirk, the words flying past his mouth before he could even think twice about them. “How can you call us stowaways when you were the ones to pull us in here?”

The droid went silent. Minho figured that if it could make facial expressions, it would’ve looked annoyed.

“It’s really important”, Minho urged. “I’m sure she’ll understand. If you’re planning on throwing us to the trash chute, don’t you think she’d like to make the call herself?”

The droid in front of him went silent again, the other three were just surrounding them, pointing their blasters at them. It was taking the droid so long to say something, Minho started to really worry that he had miscalculated how this part of the plan would go.

Ultimately, the droid lowered its weapon, and the three of them heaved a sigh of relief. “Follow me”.

The insides of the ship looked almost the same as they had last time Minho was here, save for a few changes to the corridor’s decor. How long had it been? Three months? Six? It was hard to tell these days when he was running for his life half the time.

The group of droids guided the three of them towards where Minho knew the main control room would be, where you probably would be. He should’ve been unfazed, Minho had seen you thousands of times, but somehow every single time without fail his heart would flutter, especially when so much time had passed since he last saw you.

As soon as the doors of the main control room slid open they were engulfed by the sound of clicks and clacks from the amount of droids sitting at their stations just pressing buttons. It was impressive, how you had put together this entire operation almost on your own, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Captain”, the droid spoke finally, snapping Minho out of his daze.

Ah, there you were, hunched over your desk, with your fingers flying on the touchscreen that was embedded in it. What were you doing? Planning your next course? Ensuring the safety of your routes? Checking for imperial ports in the vicinity? Minho was always curious, mostly because he was nosy. He wanted to have as much knowledge as possible at any given time, but he also just liked to hear you talk about things. He quite enjoyed hearing you speak, he’d admit.

“What is it, B2-49?” Shit, just your voice could kickstart Minho’s heartbeat. He should visit more often, the longer he spent away the more your mere existence affected him, and it was, quite honestly, inconvenient.

“The stowaways wish to speak with you”, the droid, B2-49, informed you, and you scoffed, not lifting your eyes from the screen under your fingertips for a second.

“How can you call them stowaways when we pulled them in here in the first place?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth”, Minho couldn’t help but say, grinning at you once the sound of his voice finally pulled you from your task.

Your eyes went wide as soon as you spotted him, you clearly weren’t expecting him, and Minho would lie if he said he didn’t enjoy catching you off guard, that he didn’t enjoy your attention.

Your gaze jumped from him to his two companions, and your brows furrowed. You looked at him again, right in the eyes, confusion written all over your face. “What’re you doing here?”

“Can’t I just drop by anymore?”

“You can”, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest. “But something tells me you’re here with a purpose”.

‘So when I come here to fuck you isn’t a purpose?’ was what Minho would’ve liked to say, because that was often why he came to your ship, but he’d always come alone. Hyunjin and Felix didn’t have to know any of that, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he chose to take a direct approach.

“We need a safe route to infiltrate the Antrilian quadrant”.

You scoffed, incredulousness painted all over your face. “Have you gone mad? Antrilia? Want me to get you right to the intergalactic council as well?”

Antrilia was known for hosting the biggest slave ring in the galaxy, it was heavily guarded by imperial forces, and it was Minho’s goal to bring it all down, to free every single slave in the quadrant, stealing a few prized possessions in the process–he had to get his money’s worth, of course.

It was a very personal task, considering two of his crewmates had been taken by the empire recently. Saving his friends and taking it all down wouldn’t be easy, the entire quadrant was heavily guarded, which was why he had come to you, the best, most discreet smuggler he’d ever known.

“I’m being serious”, and he was.

Minho’s entire purpose was to rid the galaxy of every single slave camp he could, that was how he met his crewmates, they formed their own guild and were now some of the most wanted men in the galaxy. Ever since he himself escaped from one of those places when he was just a kid, he made it his purpose to wreak as much havoc as possible, to bring down the system. It was dangerous, and he’d been close to dying more times than he could count, but he just couldn’t turn a blind eye to it.

You looked at him for a moment, your eyes jumping all over his face. After a while, you finally unfolded your arms to place your hands flat on the table. “Oh my Gods, you are serious. Do you have a death wish?”

Minho gave you a smile, a smug one, and you immediately brought your fingers to your temples, rubbing circles there.

“I can’t do that, Minho”, you said as soon as you seemed to realise he wasn’t going to back down.

“If there’s anyone in this galaxy that can get us there is you. I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t truly believe that”, and Minho really meant it. Regardless of his personal connection to you, he knew you were incredibly good at your craft.

You looked at him for a few moments, quiet, pondering, he could almost see the cogs turning inside your head, and for a brief moment he wondered if you would just shoot him down completely. That was, until you spoke again.

“What’s in it for me?”

"My gratitude", Minho said in a mock tone, and you quirked a brow, almost as if you were telling him ‘be fucking serious right now’.

So he clicked his tongue, slightly annoyed that you didn’t want to play along. “The receptor of an imperial cruise with a valid code”.

Immediately, a glint of excitement appeared in your eyes,

“How did you… Get your hands on that?”

Minho shrugged. “I have my ways”.

You were silent for a while, just looking into his eyes and tapping your fingers on your desk. Minho looked right back at you, waiting for you to make your decision. This wasn’t the first time he was asking for a favour, but it was certainly the first time he was asking for something so dangerous, so he could completely understand if you didn’t want to help him. He wouldn’t have taken it to heart either way.

With a deep intake of breath, you finally stood up from your desk and walked a bit closer to the group, to stand right in front of Minho. “This is not something I can decide just now. I need some time to think about it”.

“There’s not much time, I’m afraid”, Minho gave you a genuinely apologetic smile, and you sighed, somehow sounding both defeated and annoyed.

“Quit being dramatic. I’m sure you can give me at least twenty four hours”.

“Twenty four hours sounds reasonable”.

You looked at Minho for a moment, and then looked at his crewmates. “Who are you guys?”

“Hyunjin”.

“Felix”.

Both of his crewmates introduced themselves at the same time, but you seemed to pick up their names anyway. You signalled your droids to remove their restraints, giving them both a welcoming smile. “Welcome aboard, Hyunjin and Felix”.

They simply returned your greetings, sounding immensely grateful now that they were no longer bound. You were just about to walk away when Minho cleared his throat with a frown on his face.

“Aren’t you going to untie me, too?”

You looked him up and down, and a devilish smile made its way to your lips, making the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “Why should I?”

“So you untie my friends and not me? Seems a bit biassed on your part, doesn’t it?”

You walked closer, standing so close he almost felt as if you were going to kiss him. Right there. In front of his friends. And that realisation had his heart pounding in his chest, and, even more annoyingly, it brought heat to his ears. He tried his best to not show how affected he was, though. He stood his ground, with the self-assured smile he could pull off.

Bringing your hand behind him, you took a hold of the device binding his wrists. “Say please”.

His smug façade crumbled immediately, replaced by a look of incredulousness. Minho scoffed, tilting his head to the side and looking you right in the eyes. “You can’t be serious right now…”

The corners of your mouth quirked up, and the mirth in your eyes made him both feel giddy and incredibly annoyed.

“I’m dead serious, Lee Minho”, you told him, and Minho realised then that if he leaned in just the tiniest bit, he could definitely press his lips to yours, and for a second, he genuinely considered it.

If it had been just you and your droids, he certainly would’ve kissed you right then and there, but the presence of his friends behind him gave him pause. It wasn’t like Minho minded if they knew, it was that he wasn’t sure whether you would mind or not. But based on how things had gone between you two so far, he figured you would, so he took a deep breath, closing his eyes to avoid looking at your triumphant face.

“Please”.

“Please, what?”

His eyes snapped open, and there was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to wipe that glint of victory in your eyes. Regardless, Minho swallowed his pride, he was in no position to try his luck.

“Please, captain”.

You smiled, clearly satisfied. With what Minho figured was a press of a button on his cuffs, the thing unravelled from his wrists, finally letting him move freely.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You tapped his chest, and Minho had to bite his tongue. Oh, he was so getting his payback for this.

Before he could say anything, you spoke again. “You guys can stay here today if you want. There’s plenty of rations for all of us, including the few other living people on this ship, but I’m afraid there’s only one spare room conditioned for people to stay in besides the crew’s”.

“We’ll stay”, Minho rubbed his wrists, trying to ease some of the ache caused by his restraints.

The room provided to them was big enough, with a bunk bed embedded on one of the walls, and another on the other. Very sterile looking, nothing in particular stood out, it was just like any other room Minho had seen on a spaceship of this size. The biggest add-on was the adjacent washroom, which the three of them immediately rejoiced at when they noticed it.

No one ever spoke about it, but depending on the ships you travelled in throughout the galaxy, a washroom could be considered a luxury, so the prospect of a good shower and a fresh change of clothes was certainly appealing. Minho let his younger crewmates take the spot first, since he was sure both Hyunjin and Felix were dying to feel clean again.

As he waited for them to come out, slouching on one of the chairs in the room, Minho’s mind couldn’t help but wander. He’d never imagined he’d be here, in your ship, with any of his friends. He’d hoped that maybe one day, if things worked out, he could introduce you to them in a less… Contained fashion. But things never seemed to go as he expected whenever it came to whatever it was that was lingering between you two.

As soon as his friends were ready, Minho immediately rushed to the washroom. He took his time just washing off all the grime and gunk that had stuck to him during their almost never-ending travels the past handful of days, so truly, he was immensely grateful for that shower.

“Do you think she’ll help?” Felix asked from where he was laying on the top bunk as soon as Minho came out of the washroom.

“Honestly?” Minho rubbed a towel on his head, trying to get his hair as dry as possible. “I really have no idea”.

Hyunjin eyed him for a moment, leaning back on his hands from where he sat on the bottom bunk. “You sure? You seem to be awfully close with the captain of this ship”.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say awfully close”, Minho was great at lying and deception, but even to him that statement sounded incredibly disingenuous. “We… Know each other”.

“You know each other? Or you know each other?” Felix wiggled his eyebrows at Minho, just as the older man was sitting on the bottom bunk of the other bunk bed.

“If you ask me, I’d like to think she’d do it. But this is very different from any favour I’ve ever asked. More dangerous… So who knows”, Minho decided to completely brush off the curious eyes, and even more curious questions of his crewmates. Explaining his connection to you was something he’d rather not speak about, not now at least.

Felix looked like he was going to say something, something incredibly annoying. So Minho decided to abruptly stand up from his bed and intercept him. “Anyway, I’m going for a snack”.

“A snack?” Hyunjin asked once Minho walked past him. “Is that how we’re calling the cap–”

Before he could even attempt to finish his sentence, Minho took the towel he had draped over his shoulders and swiftly snapped it in Hyunjin’s direction, hitting him in the arm.

“Ow! Unnecessary!” Hyunjin rubbed his upper arm, pouting.

Minho simply offered him a ‘deserved’ before he walked out the door.

Minho did intend on finding something to snack on before bed, but he would lie if he said he wasn’t keeping his eyes open in case he spotted you. All he’d seen so far was the odd droid going about their business, and a couple of crew members who greeted him as usual.

“Who gave you permission to wander the corridors of my ship?”

Minho’s skeleton almost jumped out of skin at the sudden voice speaking to him. As soon as that initial shock passed he knew it was you, how could he not know when the sound of your voice was already ingrained in every crevice of his brain? So he decided to put up his best smug façade once again, ignoring the way his heart started to thump in his chest just at the sound of your voice.

“You did, captain. If my memory serves me right”.

You just scoffed in response, and started to walk towards him. Once you stood in front of him, you crossed your arms over your chest, and simply looked at him with a frown on your face.

For a moment, Minho didn’t say anything, just like you didn’t either. Your gaze was stern, guarded, just like it usually was whenever you were into your Captain Mode. After all, you spent most of your time around your crew, leading them, planning morally questionable arrangements to get work going, so it was no surprise to him that you looked at him like this.

However, after a few more moments of silence, the frown on your face turned to one of concern, and, honestly, Minho would lie if he said he didn’t like it when you worried about him. Because he knew that was what was going through your mind right now, worry.

“Is there anything I can say or do to get you to not do this?”

Minho gave you a smile, a genuine one, the ones he reserved mostly for you, and for moments like these. “No”.

You sighed. “For a pirate, you sure have a lot of morals, don’t you?”

“Being a contradiction is my favourite pastime, baby, you know that”, he registered the pet name falling from his lips a second too late. There was nothing he could do about it, it was like his brain would automatically shift into Smitten Mode whenever you two were on your own. If you were displeased by it, you didn’t show it or say anything about it. “I must say, I find it rather cute that you’re worrying about me that much”.

You scoffed at that, rolling your eyes. “Of course I worry about you. Unfortunately, you’ve got this horrible habit of risking your life, and since I’ve got the horrible habit of caring about you, it’s only natural that I worry”.

Had you no regard for his weak heart? How could you tell him you cared about him so nonchalantly? And while you were scolding him at that? He wanted to say something back, to bicker a bit more, but his body seemed to not agree with that logic, because it decided that the best reaction would be to rush blood to his ears and his chest, making him flush.

So, to counterattack, Minho simply did what he did best, to display his affection through his actions instead of his words. Cradling your face in his hands, he dragged his thumbs over your cheeks, and as he stared into your eyes he could see all your walls crumble, just like they always did in situations like these. ‘Cute’, was the last word to leave his mouth before he pressed his lips to yours.

Warmth spread quickly inside of him, the tiny whine that escaped your mouth as soon as your lips connected ignited in him all those feelings he usually tried to ignore, and the way you kissed him, with as much desperation as he felt, had blood rushing to his length immediately. Minho couldn’t help it, it was instinctual at this point, to get hard when you so much as touched him–even if that touch was only your lips on his, your hands grabbing his top, and your tongue inside his mouth.

Before he knew it, he had moved, walking forward and pressing you against the cold metal walls of your ship. His hands finally left your face to hold your waist instead, and you took it as an opportunity to loop your arms around his neck, burying one of your hands in his hair and tugging gently.

“Missed you”, Minho mumbled against your lips as he slotted one of his legs between your own, pressing his thigh right against your core. He wasn’t ashamed or bashful of the words that came out of his mouth, he was way past that point, he’d decided long ago that sometimes–especially after long periods of time apart–telling you how he felt was better than having to bottle it all up.

“Missed you, too”, you mumbled back, bringing one of your legs to wrap around his hip, pulling him close, kissing him deeply right after. You, clearly, had also decided to let go of those inhibitions as well.

Moving his hand from your waist to your bum, he groped the flesh over your bottoms, just as he detached himself from your mouth to sparsely press kisses on your neck, right in the areas he knew you were the most sensitive, making you whimper. “Can’t believe you made me fucking beg to get me out of the handcuffs”.

“Wouldn’t have been the first time”, you replied with a strained chuckle, digging your heel on the back of his thigh, enticing him. It was certainly working. “Probably won’t be the last, either”.

“You minx”, Minho chuckled, returning his lips to yours, pushing his tongue inside your mouth, taking a hold of your thigh and squeezing it.

Your heavy breathing, the warmth emanating from your body that immediately seeped into him, kindling the fire that burnt bright inside of him, that fire that didn’t seem to die regardless of how much time passed, all combined had Minho’s head spinning, had him growing impossibly hard. He needed you just as much as he needed oxygen in his lungs, and for a brief second he considered taking you right there, right in the middle of the corridor, uncaring of who could walk by and see you two.

As usual, though, you brought some sense into him, tugging hard on his hair to get him to detach his mouth from yours, mumbling a breathless ‘wanna head to my cabin?’ to which Minho simply replied an overly confident ‘thought you’d never ask’. So, as soon as he separated himself from your body you took his hand in yours, pulling him along the corridor, following the familiar path to your sleeping quarters.

There had always been this thing about your room that gave Minho an immense amount of peace. He wasn’t sure if it was the infuser you seemed to have on at all times, the one that filled your room with whichever relaxing essential oil you’d gotten your hands on during your travels, or if it was the clear signs that this was your living space–the seemingly permanent heap of clothes on the chair next to your bed, the journal you kept on your desk, the huge, old-fashioned map of the galaxy taped to the wall… It was all so incredibly you, it made him feel completely enveloped by your presence, it comforted him, really.

His favourite part of your room, though, was your bed. Incredibly comfortable, with just the right amount of firmness to it, saturated in the smell of you. And maybe later, Minho would be able to bury his face in your pillow, to try and etch your essence into his memory to get him through the hard days to come.

Right now, as your clothes and his landed on the already existing pile of clothes on your chair, he could hardly think about any of that. The feeling of your bare skin against his was more than enough to drown him in the moment. Every sigh, moan, whine that came out of your mouth whenever his lips touched your skin, the warmth of your body under him, it all let him ignore the world out of this room, out of this ship, let him focus on only you and him and the deep desire that was burning bright inside of him.

Between your hands roaming his back, the desperate way you clung to him, kissing him so hungrily he could barely breathe, Minho knew it was only a matter of time until you talked, or until he talked. He always wondered who would be the first one to ask that burning question that always hung in the air, most of the time it was him, but on odd occasions, you’d cave, and he was always ready to answer when you did.

“Have you been with other people since the last time we saw each other?”

There it was. You beat him to it this time, but, honestly, it really didn’t matter who asked it. To him, regardless of who broke the question first, it never made the entire thing any less absurd.

“Other people?” He propped himself on one hand to get a better view of you, dragging the other hand all the way from your shoulder to your centre, feeling your heated skin under his palm. His fingers teased your folds, spreading your essence all over, getting his fingers drenched. Gods, you were so wet for him already, and you’d barely even started.

Minho was impatient. He always was the first time he got you under him like this after a long time. He wanted you, he wanted to see you squirming and writhing under his touch, so he wasted no more time, easing his ring and middle finger into your dripping heat. A quiet moan flew past your lips as soon as he was buried to the knuckle, gripping the bed sheets near your head once he started slowly thrusting his fingers in and out, letting you get used to the intrusion.

“There’s been no one else. No one could ever remotely compare”, he emphasised his words with a hard nudge on your sweet spot, and a tug on your nipple, eliciting a moan from your lips. “There’s been flirting, I’ll give you that. Knowingly and unknowingly. More often than not to get ourselves out of tricky situations, you know how it is… But physically? Emotionally? I haven’t wanted anyone else since the first time I buried my head between your legs and got you to moan so sweetly for me, sweetheart”.

“Minho, my darling…” Your voice was airy, your face flushed, and quiet moans continued to spill from your lips as he picked up his rhythm, prepping you, moving his fingers against all those areas inside of you he seemed to have committed to memory throughout the years, the ones that would labour your breath and get you to moan a bit louder the longer he worked you up.

Minho dipped, finding your mouth and kissing you with force, with need. Because all this time, all he’d ever needed was you, he always did. Every day, even when he decided to ignore it.

You held onto his forearm, lightly digging your nails on his flesh, but he didn’t mind. If anything, it reminded him of the fact that he was here, with you, making you feel good, getting to enjoy you once more.

“What about you?” Minho said once he disconnected his mouth from yours for air, leaving a trail of kisses from your cheek to your neck.

He wanted to know. He wouldn’t judge you, you were free to do as you pleased, after all. That was how it worked between you two, although ‘worked’ could be considered a very loose term here. “Has anyone taken care of you these past handful of months?”

You shook your head, inhaling sharply when Minho continued his descent down your torso, attaching his mouth to your chest as his fingers kept going in and out of you, as he kept stimulating that area within your walls that he knew would get you to lose your train of thought.

Of course you hadn’t had sex with anyone else. You never did. You hadn’t in years, just like Minho hadn’t, either.

“I only–Oh!” Your words cut off, replaced by a breathy moan once Minho’s lips found one of your nipples and sucked it into his mouth to flick it with his tongue. He could feel you clenching hard around his fingers, and it almost made him dizzy with how hard it was getting him.

You swallowed, audibly. Your fingers tangled in Minho’s hair, tugging at it as he kept working you up. With his fingers, with his mouth, with his tongue… He loved to coax the most delicious sounds out of your lip, but he wanted to know. He needed to know. So he let go of your nipple, finding your burning gaze as soon as he looked at your face.

“I haven’t”, you whined, just as you sneaked a hand down your body, finding your clit to draw circles on it. “You are the only person I ever want. I’ve been cursed since the very first day I met you…”

The bead of precum that had been slowly growing on the tip of his cock fell onto the bed once your words registered in his brain. And Minho realised then that he, too, had been cursed since the very first day he met you. Cursed to be in love with you for the rest of his days, cursed to have to ignore that fact and live in this arrangement you two had conjured.

Leaning in, he captured your lips again, and the whimper that came out of your mouth as soon as he started to kiss you was enough for him to know just how true it all was.

“Go faster”, Minho mumbled against your lips between kisses, picking up the pace of his fingers. “C’mon, baby, I know you’re close. Rub your precious little clit faster. I need you to come on my fingers”.

“But…” You started to protest, but you sped up your motions anyway, squirming, whining. “It’s too soon”.

“Doesn’t matter”, Minho kept flicking his fingers against your sweet spot, just as you kept pleasuring yourself. “I’ll get you to come again later. We’ve got all night. Please, love…”

He returned his mouth to your nipple, suckling and licking the hardened bud. You were swearing a lot, writhing a lot, and as soon as the most desperate ‘close…’ fell from your lips, he trapped your nipple between his teeth, nibbling softly on the sensitive flesh. Your whole body shook with your release, and your moans mingled with his own groans of satisfaction. He revelled in the way your walls clamped around his fingers, in the squelching sounds produced by the movement of his fingers going in and out of your heat.

Minho let go of your nipple, already knowing it’d be too much for you after your high. Your hand on your clit stopped, but you kept your fingers there, applying pressure to prolong your release just as he kept slowly stimulating your walls.

“Fuck…” You finally moved your hand away from between your legs, and your body slumped on the bed, a clear signal that your high was over.

Pulling his fingers from your core, he slid them up to tease your sensitive clit for a second, chuckling at the jolt of your body with the contact. You looked so absolutely stunning like this. Flushed, panting, almost glowing.

Holding your gaze, he brought his fingers to his mouth, savouring your taste as he licked them clean. You swallowed, and Minho removed his fingers from his mouth, only to bring them to yours. “Open up, sweetheart”.

And you did. Letting him ease his fingers inside your mouth. Your lips wrapped around his digits oh, so perfectly, and your tongue lapped him up just as your eyes closed and your brows pulled together with a muffled moan. “Look at you… Always eager to give a good suck”.

You hummed, nodding.

“Most beautiful girl in the galaxy”, he couldn’t help but say as he looked at you eagerly sucking on his fingers, as he felt your tongue lick his digits.

When he removed his fingers from your mouth, he finally leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead, and moving to connect your mouths once again right after. He hugged you close, laying on top of you and covering you with as much of his body as he could, enjoying your warmth.

Minho finally let you take a breather, removing his mouth from yours to instead press kisses on your collarbone. You sighed, content, and the way you massaged his scalp as you held him close had heat spreading in his chest and face, probably making him blush like a fool.

“Fuck, I haven’t come that hard in months…” you mumbled, still slightly breathless. Minho chuckled, resting his weight on one elbow to look at your face, smiling softly at you.

“And we’re only just getting started, hm?” Minho kissed you briefly, pulling away from you when he felt your hand wrap around his length, stroking him leisurely. “Nuh-uh. None of that”, he tugged your hand away from his cock, eliciting a pout in response.

“You don’t want me to touch you?”

“Oh, baby…” Minho stretched his arm, blindly reaching for the knob of the drawer of your nightstand. “Want you to touch me so much”, he blindly rummaged through it, quickly finding the box of condoms he knew you kept there. “But I want you so fucking bad right now. Need to be inside you now or I’ll combust”.

You chuckled against his lips when he leaned in to press a quick peck on your lips. Pulling himself from you for a moment, he focused on the box in his hand, dumping the contents on the bed by your head and grabbing a single packet.

There were still as many as he had seen last time he was here with you.

Minho quickly tore the foil packet open and slid the condom on his length, giving himself a couple of tentative pumps to make sure it was all secure. Lining himself with your entrance, he teased you for a moment, lost in your lustful gaze and the way you bit your lip in anticipation, lost in the burning desire inside of him.

He couldn’t help but kiss you again, right as he started to ease his cock between your walls. You moaned, holding him tightly, kissing him desperately. Minho simply grunted, and he started to feel lightheaded just by your warmth around him. You were so intoxicating, and the feeling of you around him was so familiar, and even a bit comforting. As he slid centimetre after centimetre within your core, he was reminded of why he was here.

Because you were warm.

Because you were home.

Once he bottomed out, he propped himself up to look at your face. One of your hands came to rest on his cheek, and your thumb softly caressed his skin. Minho turned his head a bit, just enough to kiss your palm as he started to move. The feel of you around him, warm, tight, wet, made him close his eyes, made him quietly moan as he enjoyed the onslaught of sensations coursing through him.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your heel dug on his ass, trying to get him closer to you.

“Harder”, was all you mumbled, and it made him chuckle and open his eyes.

“I’m trying to be careful and you want me to go harder?” Minho kept his rhythm slow, almost teasing you.

“Who’s asking you to be careful?” You pressed your lips to his neck, once again making him flush–although at this point he wasn’t sure if the flush had diminished at all since he came into this room. “It’s been too long, darling. Six months, three weeks, and two days, to be exact. I missed you, and all I want is for you to fucking ruin me, Minho”.

“Shit, what am I gonna do with you…”

Pulling himself away from your embrace, he sat straighter, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and starting a brutal pace right then and there. The moan of surprise that came out of your mouth as soon as he started moving fueled him, it almost made him lightheaded, making him completely forget where you two were, not caring if people heard you at all.

Minho wasn’t sure where to focus; on your tits bouncing with every single one of his thrusts, on the way your face scrunched up in bliss, on the absolutely divine feeling of you wrapped so snugly around him… All combined had sparks of pleasure racing up and down his spine, had his head spinning.

“Is this what you wanted?” With a tight grip on your thigh, keeping your leg flush to him, making sure to hit that area within your walls that would make you produce all those sounds he wanted to hear.

You nodded, swallowing as you brought a hand to his abdomen, sinking your nails into his flesh. The sting made him grunt, made him throw his head back and snap his hips just a tad faster.

“Look at me”, you mumbled, somehow both commanding and breathless, dragging your nails down his abdomen. As soon as Minho complied, your lascivious gaze almost made him burst. Eye contact was a thing that you always enjoyed, but he wasn’t too sure he’d be able to stand it for long, not at this moment at least. The way you looked at him always made him want to blow, especially so after months of no physical contact.

Minho just chuckled, finding your breast with his free hand to knead the flesh and pinch and roll your nipple between his fingers, eliciting a strained moan from you, making you bite your lip to keep your volume in check. “Are you trying to make me blow?”

As soon as the question came out of his mouth, he felt you clench around him, and he couldn’t help but groan at the sensation. He knew you were doing it on purpose, you always liked to work him up, get him to lose his sanity with the simplest things, and he always fell for it, because it was just so good. “What if I am?”

“You sound… Way too self-assured for someone who’s… Borderline gasping for air, you know?”

The laugh that had started to bubble over from you got caught in your throat, replaced by a string of swear words as Minho moved his hand from your breast to your mound and pressed his thumb on your clit. He might’ve been struggling, but he was determined to get you to struggle as well.

You swallowed, licking your lips as you clearly tried to pull yourself together enough to bicker with him. “But you like it, huh?”

“I fucking do, shit…” He just sped up his fingers, trying to get you to your peak as fast as possible.

Minho really couldn’t tell how much time passed of him pounding into you, rubbing your clit and tugging on your nipples, and he honestly didn’t care, either. This was always the best part, getting to lose himself in the moment, pleasuring you and getting pleasure of his own just by the feel of you there, under him, around him.

Every time you spoke, it brought him increasingly closer to the edge, your ‘just like that, baby’, and your frequent and almost incomprehensible ‘so fucking good’ simultaneously going to his head and his cock, fueling him even further. When you finally came, he couldn’t hold back the groans that came out of his mouth in tandem with your moans. The feeling of you clenching so tightly around him sent a shiver down his spine, and before he knew it, he was leaning into you, kissing you deeply, messily as he chased his own release.

You held him tightly, tiny squeals muffling against his lips as he kept his relentless pace. The sudden sting of your nails trailing down his back was the final push he needed. Minho saw white for a brief moment, groaning and grunting and maybe even moaning at the feel of your teeth sinking on his bottom lip, at the feel of your hands on his back, and your hips flush to his as he filled the condom inside of you–the only physical barrier between his body and yours.

All that pent up tension he’d been harbouring for months and months seemed to quickly evaporate from his muscles as he melted into you, into your kiss and your tight hug. His ears were ringing a bit, but he didn’t mind. All he could care about was the fact that you were right there, pressed completely against him.

After he left one more kiss on your lips, he pulled back just enough to look at you. You smiled at him, a genuine smile that had his heart skipping every other beat inside his ribcage. He returned the gesture, just as you brought your hand to push his now soaked fringe away from his forehead, pulling him down to press a kiss right there, making him chuckle in disbelief.

Once he pulled himself away from you completely, he carefully slid the condom off of his length, tying a knot to make sure nothing spilled out. Taking the discarded foil packed, he placed it on your nightstand and laid the condom on top of it to dispose of later.

As he laid back down, he simply looked at you. You had that look in your eyes, the one you hardly ever showed to the people around you… Vulnerability. Minho always saw it after you two had sex, and he knew that under that vulnerability there was something, many unsaid words that you wouldn’t dare say out loud to him.

“Marry me”, Minho broke the silence, and you huffed an incredulous chuckle.

“Aren’t you tired of asking me to marry you?”

“Are you tired of me asking you to marry me?”

You went silent for a moment, just looking into his eyes. Minho didn’t really need you to respond, he knew what the answer was.

“No, I’m not”, you replied simply, exactly what he knew you would say. “How would we even make a marriage work? We can’t even make a relationship work, Lee Minho”.

“We’ve never tried”.

It was true. Although the connection he shared with you was laps more than physical, you’d never entertained the possibility of a relationship. You hadn’t let him try, and he hadn’t been persistent–sure, he asked you to marry him every other encounter you had, but he never really pushed it. Because he knew it was a complex situation, him being an outlaw, a pirate, a rebel, and you being a smuggler, both probably with hefty bounties on your heads.

“Do you want to try?” you sounded genuinely incredulous, almost as if you had just realised that he was being genuine about it.

Minho propped his head on his elbow, just looking at you. And then it dawned on him. “You’ve never thought I was being serious when I asked you to marry me before, have you?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, but ultimately, you shook your head, and he couldn’t help but scoff, dropping his head back on the bed to stare at the ceiling.

“Well, I have been. Every time”.

“But why?” Your voice was barely a whisper, and when he turned to look at you his heart clenched just by seeing tears collect in your eyes. You didn’t let them fall, though.

“Because I love you”, Minho replied simply. “You’re clever, fun, one of the bravest people I’ve ever met, you’ve saved my life numerous times. Whenever I’m with you I feel at peace, and when I’m not, I worry about you, about your health, or I wonder if you’re out there getting yourself in trouble and I’m not there to help… I’ve just… Been in love with you for years, and I can’t keep on going pretending that I’m not. That I’m okay leaving your bed or an inn or you leaving my ship as if I don’t want you to stay”.

Minho could feel the lump in his throat, the way his voice shook slightly, but he didn’t care. He needed to let those thoughts out now, otherwise he wasn’t sure how long it would be until he got this boost of courage again. He honestly hadn’t even realised how much he’d been hurting with this until the words came out of his mouth. He’d spent years pretending this arrangement was fine. It clearly wasn’t. At least not anymore.

You went quiet for a while. A long while. Minho was honestly starting to second-guess ever opening his mouth, and it was just as he was about to stand up from that bed that you finally moved, wrapping one of your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest.

“I hadn’t thought… I didn’t think…” You were rambling, your voice was muffling against his skin, it was hard to understand anything you were saying with the verbiage that was coming out of your mouth

“Hey… It’s okay”, Minho dragged his hands up and down your spine, hugging you even tighter against him, effectively stopping your ramble. “Breathe…”

You took a deep breath, draping your leg over his hips and pulling him even closer to you, which did ease his worries a bit–at least you weren’t kicking him out of your bed just yet.

“You smell nice…” You mumbled suddenly, rubbing your face on his chest. It immediately made his heart race and his chest flush. Minho wanted to say something, but honestly, the words were stuck in his throat, suddenly feeling bashful, as if he wasn’t naked on your bed after having sex with you.

When you finally pulled away from his chest, you looked him in the eyes, looking incredibly vulnerable. Minho simply brought a hand to your cheek, feeling your heated skin under his palm as his thumb moved back and forth.

“Minho… Every time you go, every time I leave, my heart just hurts so much. And I honestly don’t know how to deal with it. With my feelings, or how we could even make this work”.

“I’m sure we can figure something out… Maybe not today, maybe not even this week, but I’m sure we can”.

You closed your eyes then, heaving a sigh. “You know this isn’t gonna be easy, right?”

“I’m aware”, Minho’s lips quirked up a bit, suddenly amused by your choice of words, and he couldn’t help but bring even more clarity to it. “It hasn’t been easy until now, either, has it?” You gave him a smile as well, opening your eyes again. “I’m willing to take my chances. I… Really want to try”.

Your gaze flickered between his eyes for a bit, and then you were leaning in, pressing a tender, brief kiss on his lips.

“I want that, too”, you whispered, pecking his lips once again, murmuring the most tender ‘I love you’ as you hugged him even tighter, making Minho go impossibly redder, making his heart beat so fast he thought it would leap out of his chest. “If you don’t come back alive from your insane borderline suicide mission, I’ll personally go to the afterlife and kill you again”.

Minho chuckled, pecking your lips. “If you help me then you can make sure I don’t die at all, sweetheart”.

“Huh, so that’s why you’re here now professing your love to me? Trying to seduce me into helping you fulfil your pirate affairs?” Pushing him to lay on his back, you got on top of him, kissing him time and time again. His heart felt as if it was ready to burst, and for a brief moment, it was almost as if everything was okay. As if everything would be fine.

“Need I remind you you brought me into this room yourself?” With a hand on your bum and the other on the back of your neck, Minho simply kept kissing you, uncaring of anything happening outside of these walls.

“Don’t change the topic”.

“Is it working, though? Am I successfully seducing you?”

You scoffed at that, pressing one loud, final kiss on his lips before you shuffled around, sitting on him, straddling his hips, and placing your hands on his chest. “Of course I’m gonna fucking help you, Lee Minho. But not because you’ve got the best stroke game I’ve ever experienced, but because I stupidly believe in your cause”.

“Gods… Keep inflating my ego, please”, Minho couldn’t help but groan. His hands immediately found your hips, kneading the soft flesh there. “I just love it when you do”.

“I know you do”, you grinned, dragging one of your hands all over his flushed chest, up his neck, finally settling it on his cheek.

Minho caught your hand in his, keeping it in place as he turned to press a kiss to your palm. Your gaze shifted then, that playful glint you usually had when you teased him replaced by something else, something akin to love, maybe even hope. And in that moment, he seriously believed everything would be okay. That he’d be able to save his friends, free the slaves, and make it out alive. That he’d finally get to truly be by your side.

Tagging: @raspbinniecreme · @staaa96 · @oiminho · @tasteleeknow · @biribarabiribbaem · @dearalice · @alexis-reads-fics · @xcookiemonsteer · @knowleeknow · @chanlovesme · @liminaldaydream · @sstarryreads · @svngiem · @notastraykid · @princelingperfect · @aestheticsluut · @skzhomiehopper users in purple can’t be tagged. If you want to be removed (or if i tagged you incorrectly) from the list just PM me. If you want to be added fill in this form~

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :)

#lee know smut #lee know fanfiction #lee know fic #lee know x reader #minho x reader #minho smut #minho fanfiction #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfiction #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids au #✨🌙✏

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fanfic-obsessed · 2 years

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Time for the Clones to love Obi Wan

I was thinking…and maybe one of the SW series (Not this Crude Matter by thebitterbeast, it’s fantastic. You should read it) that I am reading is in the middle of the hurt but we haven’t hit the comfort, so I want something to soothe that. Now I shall inflict the results of that upon all of you. Be aware that some of these tropes don’t usually go together but I think if you walk with me you’ll see where it all connects.

We start with a tried and true, the clones are sent back to their younger selves at death. They arrive something like five years before the clone wars are to start and man are they all deeply traumatized. Using all the collective knowledge they have (Rex was the last standing and he died of old age, living long enough to see Ben Solo’s birth after they fixed the accelerated aging. He was physically 110 when he died and living off of spite) they quickly take control of Kamino, dechip themselves, move the entire operation to an uninhabited world in the outer rim (Look there are a lot of inhabitable worlds and only so many sentients in the galaxy). They make it abundantly clear they consider Boba their brother (though he did not have his older self’s memories) and that Jango was allowed to come with them as Boba’s father but the rest of the clones consider him both Dar’buir and Dar’manda, as well as just shy of Demagolka. He may have just watched 1 millions young adults, teens, and children wearing his face efficiently take over a planet, kill all but a handful of the trainers, and within days have a new planet to make their home out of. It has reawakened his Mandalorian adoption genes (and several other parts of his personality he would have sworn had been killed by slavery and Spice years ago) and he rather desperately wants to prove that they can call him Buir.

The thing about having come back from years and decades into the future, they know where all the bodies are buried. The former Coruscant guard, particularly, knows where to find proof of all of Sidious's dealings, even five years prior to any of them meeting him. This is a highly trained, highly efficient army. Within a tenday they have released proof of Palptine’s misdeed onto the Holonet. Before the fallout could fully affect the Sith, Palpatine is shot and killed with three slugs from a slug thrower sniper rifle; the perpetrators are never caught. The Vod’e are careful never to confirm exactly where Fox, or any of the Coruscant Guard were in the time before or after the assination that it would have taken to get to Coruscant or back (They did not actually do the deed, it was an assassination attempt that Palpatine had easily dodged in the first timeline, he was just a little too distracted by his business being aired in this one).

The initial plan of the Vod’e was to get settled and eventually approach the Jedi. Their Jedi. They didn’t know how to convince the Jedi to trust them (whether the Jedi remembered or not) but they intended that eventually the Jedi would not go on missions alone any longer.

That was the Plan

This is where the second trope comes into play. Groups of Senators, desperate for anything to distract from the fact that the Chancellor they backed turned out to be planning Genocide (It could be argued that being Sith was not actually illegal, and every single one of them did). They found a set of Blue laws that, combined with the fact that the Fett Clones (as they were generally being called) were on paper ordered by a Master of the Jedi Order, meant that the Senate could marry (really it was assign as a hostage but it was worded as marry) a member of the Jedi Order to a member of a group they had wronged for the sake of an alliance.

FUN FACT: A Blue Law is a US State law on the books that is no longer enforced, mostly forgotten, and sounds a little ridiculous. I also personally believe that it remains on the books because in order to have it removed, someone has to stand in front of a state legislative body and actually say the law. Two examples come to mind: In Alaska it is illegal to push a moose out of an airplane and in Massachusetts a parent can call the police to have their children arrested for being unruly.

Now back to the regularly scheduled Madness

Now the Senate does not want to send someone too important to the Fett Clones. In fact if they could choose someone that would be a subtle insult, all the better. They choose a youngish knight, who had only been a knight less than a decade, with a Padawan. They choose a knight that, on paper, is not that impressive. Reports from his younger years indicate he was a decent, if slightly aggressive, initiate. Nearly not chosen. Mission reports during his padawanship were sparsely written and mentioned him little. Having taken a padawan younger than average, he was temple bound more often than most during their first years of knighthood.

The Senate chose Obi Wan Kenobi as a spouse. While he was somewhat famous within the order already (for the fight with Maul, his rocky apprenticeship, and taking Anakin on before he was even officially knighted) outside of the Order he was a random Jedi, remembered fondly by those who met him personally but not well known by the galaxy at large.

Had this happened with any other group, the insult would have landed as intended. However this was the Vod’e. The Vod’e remembered General Obi Wan Kenobi, the Negotiator. And while almost every Vod’e would claim that their Jedi was the best Jedi, the best General, the best Jedi General, and the best sentient in general, everyone could agree that Kenobi was amazing (the 501st would like it understood that they have a…complicated relationship with the memories of their general. On the one hand he led the march on the temple, on the other, even as Vader he tended to treat them better than he did Nat borns. Not well by any measure, plenty of brothers died at Vader’s hands but it did always seem as if he was just a hair less likely to throw a tantrum that would hurt them then he was to do the same to the nat born officers). To a man every member of the Vod’e is ecstatic that they are sending The Obi Wan Kenobi to them.

When they had been first told that they were being given a Jedi to marry they kind of shrugged at each other, in spite of the efforts of the best efforts of the Jedi and the previous timeline, most of the Voe had no real concept of how Nat borns operate, and even the little bit they did know seemed to be contradictory. They figured they would adjust who of the Vod’e would be the ‘spouse’ based on the Jedi sent (Since everyone knew that Bly would kill the person who wasn’t him who got to marry Aayla), so upon being informed that Obi Wan Kenobi would arriving within a tenday they restructured the government so that Cody could take up duties as Obi wan’s spouse (They envisioned the marriage being Cody mostly following Obi Wan on Jedi missions, so he had to be able to be off planet for long stretches of time) and Cody is practically vibrating with excitement (in between rushes of nauseating anxiety and crippling guilt) at being able to woo his Jedi.

So we now have three very disparate groups with three very different ideas about what was happening.

The senate knew next to nothing about the Fett Clones, save that they are clones of Jango Fett so likely would have a grudge against the Jedi (Obi Wan the sacrifice/hostage). They do not know, or (for most of the senate) particularly care what the Clones do with their Jedi Hostage. Internally it is known that the chosen Spouse cannot be killed within the first six months of the marriage, but makes no other caveat for treatment.

We have the Jedi, who also know next to nothing about the Clones. They actually know little more than the Senate, and anticipate that the Clones might be unhappy about Master Sifo-Dyas actions (the Clones decidedly are not). They believe that violence will be done on Obi wan’s person, and they do care. But, like in the clone wars before them, none of the Jedi believe that they are able to do anything about it. With a heavy heart, they decide to treat this as a suicide mission, in that when Obi Wan leaves he likely will never be heard from again. The entire council vows to take on the tuition of Anakin Skywalker, now fourteen. They are able to make it clear to young Anakin that there is no choice, that not a single one of the Jedi have a choice in this matter.

The sheer raw emotions that Anakin could feel, exacerbated by the fact that no one, from Yoda on down, had ever realized that the Senate could do this, helped tie him closer to the Jedi. They were not unfeeling, but they still stood, mourning his master before his death. He was still young enough to remember the helplessness not being able to help other slaves and thinks that this feeling is very familiar.

And we have the clones, who do not know that they have just been gifted a Jedi that the other players expect to be dead with a rotation. They are so…so happy to see Obi Wan. How each member of the former 212th had been racking their brains for days for every detail of Their general’s likes and dislikes (there are a string of missions to make sure there is a good stock of the best tea they could find). That there had been a day-long tournament on who got the honor of going to the Core to collect their Jedi (Cody cannot because they are still shifting duties so that when his husband took missions again he could go with him).

When Obi Wan boarded the cruiser that would take him to his new husband, he expected crackling, icy anger. He expected the brittleness in the Force that had always meant hatred to him. Instead he was buffeted by fondness and glee. By a strange twist of relief. The cruiser was small enough that he was traveling with a total of 10 people. Each of those 10, at some point in the short trip, would stop and the Force around them would become distress. They would stare into the middle distance for several moments, then, upon coming back to themselves, would seek Obi Wan out and ask for a hug.

Even arriving on the still unnamed planet, Obi Wan is greeted by people who are ecstatic for him to be there. It is unnerving, to expect hostility and receive hugs and joy (Well, Jango does radiate hostility into the Force, but he is well aware he is on thin ice. And he may not know why but his Ad, no he is not allowed to call them that out loud, clearly loves the Jetti). His husband (there was no ceremony, just paperwork signed by the Vod’e and the Republic) stands a respectful distance away and keeps making aborted motions like he also wants to hug him. They have stocked his favorite teas and ask questions about his padawan and various other Jedi and seem almost desperate for the answers. They even give him a comm unit for his room, which he does not have to share with his husband, they say to contact his family in the Core (He never uses it, he can’t possibly trust it). The closest thing to violence that happens is when the Medics tell him if he doesn’t give a reasonable amount of sleep they will sedate him. This is so much better than he thought.

For the Clones part they can tell he is low key freaking out. Which in turn is freaking them out. They go round and round, what if he remembers what they did? But he doesn’t give any indication that he did, that those memories exist. Well, what if he only subconsciously remembers. The last time some of them saw him, they were shooting him off a cliff. Cody, in particular, is full to the brim with Anxiety. He desperately wants to hold Obi Wan, to ground himself in the Jedi’s heartbeat and try to forget a dusty world and the words ‘Blast him’ and all the horror that came after.

Four months pass, as Obi Wan slowly relaxes and accepts that at the very least the clones do not want to hurt him, personally. He can’t quite believe that they have no designs on the Order as a whole and is still fairly awkward around all of them. This is compounded by the fact that they seemed to know his preferences better than he does (leading him to believe that the entirety of the Vode are obsessed with him and obsession turns to darkness so easily). It all comes to a head when Jango picks a fight that reveals that the entire Jedi Order thought that they were being forced to send Obi Wan to die at the hands of the Vode. That all of Obi Wan’s awkwardness is based on this fear (and the fear that they were going to use anything he said to hurt other Jedi) as well as the fact that he had no choice in the matter, he has no memories of the previous timeline.

There is a very long moment where every Vod’e in the room just stares at Obi Wan, before a collective panic attack the likes of which this universe has never seen spills into the Force. It goes on for 45 seconds before Fox manages to get everyone into at least some semblance of calm (Both Jango and Obi Wan are watching all of this, wide eyed. They are temporarily on the same page in the land of What the Fuck). Fox manages to clarify that 1)no the Vod’e do not hold any grudge against the Jedi, they were made for the Jedi and had in fact rebelled to protect the Jedi 2) Obi Wan was in no danger here and they would not keep him here if he wanted to leave, 3) what they (the Vod’e) thought was happening when they were ‘given’ a Jedi (They had thought that this a somewhat normal occurrence of a trope called ‘marriage of convenience’ where the only thing that was going different was that Cody could legally insist on going on missions with Obi Wan) and 4) inquired if this was why they were having a hard time getting in contact with the rest of the Jedi (Yes. Yes it was.). Fox also asked, on behalf of the rest of the clones, exactly which senators voted to send Obi Wan to them (The moment their panic faded, the 212th was going to be on their way to Coruscant and he wanted to have a list of targets ready).

Obi Wan told Fox that he didn’t know who voted for what, but offered to contact the Jedi right then. He did, on the main communications relay with more than half the Vode leadership looking on. Using his own personal codes saw the call connecting immediately, with several members of the High Council visibly bracing themselves for whoever was on the other end(No one could be sure what condition Obi Wan would be in, if he was even the person using those codes). Obi Wan explains the months long misunderstanding (He had not clarified, as he did not want to rock the boat and remind the Vode of the torture option if they had ever planned to go that way. The Vod’e could tell Obi Wan was freaking out and they were trying to be considerate). There was much rejoicing as it became clear that Obi Wan was being treated well. It is decided that several members of the council (Yoda, Mace Windu, Yaddle, Plo Koon, and Shaak Ti), Anakin Skywalker, Quinlan Vos, and Eerin Bant would come to the still unnamed planet to clear up any further misunderstanding (Also the Vod’e had been building a temple for the Jedi as a surprise and wanted to show it off).

In the meantime, with the revelation that they were not going to hurt his family, Obi Wan fully relaxed around the Vode. It became obvious once he was paying attention (and not splitting his focus by trying to keep himself aloof from people who were so happy he was there) that his husband was trying to Woo him, and also date him. He found himself not opposed (the potential for love was there, but from his perspective he had effectively been sold to Cody and had spent four months half convinced that any information that he gave would be used against the Jedi). He found that he was particularly fond of the way Cody blushed when Obi Wan flirted with intent (as opposed to the absent minded flirting when he wanted a potential enemy to be off balance. Obi Wan had no idea how Cody was able to tell the difference, but he could). Throughout Vod’e of all ages would seek Obi Wan out and request a hug, though always respectfully (generally the 212th, and mostly after they had nightmares of the previous timeline).

While this turned out more serious than I had actually intended, I just want you to go out and imagine teenage clones, freaked out because they had a nightmare about Utapau seeking a bemused Obi Wan for a hug, because he is alive.

#star wars #star wars au #star wars the clone wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #codywan #order 66 #fix it #fanfic #time travel

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look-how-they-massacred-them · 8 months

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Submission reason:

Star Wars original trilogy is like okay here's a 19-year-old boy who saves the galaxy with the power of love and his incredible psychic abilities. he comes to understand who he is through fighting for a cause, being part of a community, getting mentorship, and carrying on ancient traditions while also adapting them and building something new. he's been a beloved character for 40 years because he's both strong and compassionate, a beacon of hope, love, and optimism in the face of adversity. and then The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett were like alright but what if he forced a toddler to choose between his family and understanding himself as a jedi, contradicting everything original trilogy luke stood for. and he was a soulless deepfake delivering painfully bad dialogue. that would be so cool right

literally the entire sequel trilogy. the Whole Point of luke is that he refuses to give up on people. he brought back *darth vader* to the light after 20 years of enforcing the empire's reign and killing thousands of people. the idea that he would see a vision and consider killing his nephew preemptively is completely batshit. he threw away his lightsaber while actively dueling vader. he wouldn't draw it on someone who was asleep and hadn't done anything wrong yet. and he wouldn't go become a hermit. there could've been other reasons why he was missing, but instead disney decided to make him a disillusioned asshole. like, what's the point of making The Titular Jedi suck??

Luke's entire arc in Return of the Jedi is willingness to sacrifice himself for his family because he sees a glimmer of good in his father and wants to save him. And we're supposed to believe that in 40 years of relative peace he goes from being willing to sacrifice himself for his family to going ""I had a dream about my nephew being evil and entertained the thought of murdering him in his sleep"".

Sequel trilogy threw out his entire character. He was the one who saved Vader. Original trilogy Luke never would have even considered killing kylo ren.

The sequels did him dirty even Mark Hamil was tweeting about how ooc he was 😭

Propaganda:

sorry for sending a picture from wikia. it's of original trilogy luke and not deepfake tv show abomination luke btw. also I'm not even getting into what they did to him in the sequel trilogy but I'm sure someone else has

Mark Hamill himself said, ""When I read 8, I told Rian, 'I fundamentally disagree with virtually everything you've decided about my character'."" and: ""I would say to Rian, 'A Jedi wouldn't give up. Even if I made the horrible mistake of picking the wrong guy and thinking he was the next hope, and instead he's the new Hitler. Sure, I might have been traumatised, but I'd regroup and come back twice as strong'. That's the old-school George Lucas version of a Jedi. I have to learn that it's not about me anymore. It's not George Lucas's Star Wars. It's the new generation. And if that's what they want Luke to be...""

#look how they massacred them poll #look how they massacred my boy #luke skywalker #star wars luke skywalker #star wars #propaganda post

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daimyosprincess · 1 year

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PART IV: ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

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

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

—SUMMARY: Your new relationship with the Mandalorian studies professor begins to take shape.

—WORD COUNT: 11.2k

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, professor!Boba, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is mid-twenties and Boba is late forties), alcohol consumption by reader and others, reader described as having enough hair to grab, Dom/sub power dynamics (Dom!Boba and sub!reader), BDSM elements, oral sex (male and fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), creampie, lots of pet names, praise kink, dirty talk, light degradation (discussed before, use of "slut" and "whore"), choking, hair pulling, one dude being a creep but nothing bad happens

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

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Y’all I’m not going to lie to you, this got filthy FAST and idk how this ended up at 11k but I’m not sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ And, yes, I am naming these chapters after different parts of a book because I think I’m clever. We've got some new chapter warnings this go around as well, so be sure to mind those!

A big thank you to @rexxdjarin and @agirlnamejacq for betaing, and thank you my beautiful readers for your all support and feedback 💖

Read on AO3 — Series Masterlist — Taglist

Rain plinks steadily against the thick, wavy glass of the library’s windows, its hypnotic rhythm lulling you into a trance as you watch the gray sky curl and coil outside from your post at the circulation desk. In your relaxed daze, your mind slips back to your date with Boba and the morning after. You think about how you got to fall asleep in his arms, tucked into his chest that was so warm and safe you only needed the sheet on top of you, and how even in his sleep he kept a protective arm slung over your body.

The way he woke you up with kisses on your neck, whispering how happy he was to wake up with you in his bed as his tongue laved over the bite-shaped bruise he left there the night before, and how it felt when you let him kiss down your body until he was once again laying between your thighs. How his hooded brown eyes searched for permission to continue like you would ever deny him any part of you.

“Can I taste you, princess? Can I have that pretty pussy for breakfast?”

“Please, it’s all yours.”

He was in no rush to take you apart, groaning into your wet heat and sucking more bruises into the tender skin of your thighs in between licking and fucking you with his tongue until you finally begged him to push you over the edge. After he let you soak his face, he stole you away to the shower, promising you his fingers and his cock. Afterwards you had returned the favor in the steamy, warm water, not content until he spilled every last drop of his release down your throat, cursing with his fist in your hair that you were going to suck the life out of him.

“No,” you smiled deviouly, licking the last dribble of cum off his cock, “just your soul, old man.”

Flashing you a shark-like grin through the haze of his release, he reached behind you and turned the water to cold before jumping out of the shower. You might not have forgiven him as quickly as you did if he hadn’t made you the best omelet you’d ever had for breakfast.

Since neither of you had been willing to part, you spent the day sprawled across him watching reruns on TV and talking about your lives: what books you liked, your dream vacations, what the best pasta sauce is, first crushes, anything really. The conversation flowed with such ease you might have talked the whole day away if you hadn’t gotten distracted with exploring each other’s bodies. It wasn’t all sex—though there was plenty of that too—it was soft touches mapping out curves and lines to memory, lips tracing over scars and dimples, warm hands on sore muscles. In short, it was pure bliss, like coming home after a long journey.

You had been loath to leave him when the treacherous sun started to set at the end of the day; Boba even threatened to keep you forever if you weren’t careful, as if that was supposed to make you want to leave any more. How could you be expected to sleep in your own bed now that you knew the warmth of his? Go to sleep without his chest rising and falling next to you? You were falling hard, tumbling down into love’s abyss with arms open and heart willing. That should scare you, it had in the past, but how could you be afraid when it was Boba Fett you were getting lost in?

When he finally did take you back to your apartment once the sun dipped below the horizon, you almost convinced him to come inside for “just one drink” before he thought better of your ploy to keep him and sent you through your door with a smack on the ass.

“Nice try, princess. I know what you’re up to.”

“What? I’m just being a hospitable host.”

“I’m pretty sure hospitable hosts don’t try to put their hands down their guests’ pants in the doorway.”

“The good ones do, and only for guests who can fuck like you.”

He laughed with that rich, delicious rumble of his then kissed you until your head spun and your lungs cried for air. Just thinking about it now makes your chest tighten and breath catch in the back of your throat. Gods I wish I could sneak over to his office and kiss him like that again. Run my hands over his broad shoulders and strong chest, feel his heartbeat quicken when I kiss him.

With the advent of classes, you’d hardly seen him outside of the afternoons when he’d walk you to your car at the end of the day. Talking on the phone every night was great, but it couldn’t replace actually being with him, especially when you’d been able to spend almost everyday with him those last two weeks of the summer break. All this time apart served to show just how much you enjoy just being around Boba; you miss the weight of his voice, the serenity of his solid presence, his dark eyes and the bright smile he seemed to reserve for you alone. He fed a part of you that you didn’t know was starving and tended to the soft pieces of yourself that had been trodden down by the unkinder parts of life.

Oh, and he can make me come so hard I forget my own name. Repeatedly.

The sound of someone actually saying your name interrupts your daydreaming. Unhappily snatched back from the rosy past to the dreary present Thursday, you swivel towards the source of the interruption: a smirking Selena leaning against the back office door with her arms crossed, smug. “Thinking about your professor again?”

“No,” you deny rather unconvincingly, rolling out your shoulders to sit up straight with a huff. You’d been caught fair and square but that didn’t mean you're going to admit it.

Your coworker scoffs, rolling her eyes, clearly not fooled by your posturing. “Pfft that’s not what the hearts in your eyes say. I think you even have a couple floating above your head.”

Looking around the spacious room, you throw your hands up. “Does nobody in this library have any work to do besides harass me?” There’s barely a patron in sight, the large oak tables in the atrium sitting empty except for a handful of students hunched under the green bankers lamps lining them.

“On a day like today? Absolutely not.” Selena drops down on the chair next to you with a yawn and a stretch, not bothering with the guise of work at all. “Did you decide what you’re wearing to the baccalaureate reception tomorrow?”

The event in question is the big kickoff to the academic year for faculty and staff at the end of the first week of classes. Held in the space the two of you are currently seated in, the library’s ornate atrium would be cleared of all its furniture and set up for an evening of hors d’oeuvres and drinks on the university’s dime. Despite the ostentatiousness of it all, you enjoyed the reception as it let you catch up with colleagues you rarely got to see during the academic year and mingle with the new professors. You were especially looking forward to this year’s, not in the least because it provided the opportunity to see a certain Mandalorian studies professor dressed to the nines.

“I was thinking of the green velvet dress, the one with the mesh top,” you answer. The outfit in question is one of your favorites; the rich material hugging your curves in all the right ways making you feel effortlessly sexy—you can’t wait to see Boba’s reaction to it. If you're lucky, you hope, he’ll drag you off somewhere and have his way with you before the night is over. And then again when we get back to his house.

Selena squeals and claps her hands excitedly. “Eeee, the one that makes you look snatched?” she wiggles her eyebrows at you “‘Cause if it is, your man doesn’t stand a chance!”

You laugh, curling your hands inward and cocking your head dramatically. “Yes, that one. You still got those black heels I can borrow?”

“Yeah, as long as I can use that clutch you let me use the other week.”

“It’s a deal,” you grin. “Oh, and Boba said we can get ready in his office so we don’t have to go all the way home and come back.”

“Are you sure he meant ‘we,’” she gestures between the pair of you skeptically, “or just you? I’m not trying to cut my contour while you two are going at it on the couch.”

You throw a pad of yellow sticky notes sitting on the computer at her. “He meant we, and besides,” you smirk, “I’ll just suck him off before you get there so you can fix my makeup after.” You both burst into giggles after a poor attempt of stifling them, your laughter earning you a glare from a passing professor, which you ignore.

Balancing her chin on her hand, your friend considers you for a moment. Her big brown eyes are a bit lighter than Boba’s, ringed with dark lashes and expertly applied winged eyeliner. “So you really like this Boba Fett then?”

A sunny smile spreads over your face, the answer easily on your lips. “You know what? I do, I really, really do. He’s strong and kind and funny in his own way, and he makes me feel safer than I have in my whole life. He matches my energy like… like he was made just for me. I don’t think I could ever get tired of looking at him or hearing him talk. He could read the kriffing phone book to me and I would be riveted.”

“Hold on, let me write all this down so I can send it to Hallmark for their next movie,” Selena interrupts, grabbing a pen from the cup on the desk. You roll your eyes and she snickers before softening. “Really though, I’m so happy for you, girl. It’s not every day you find someone who makes you feel like that.”

Her warmth and genuineness make your heart twinge: you are truly grateful to have a friend like her. “Thank you, Sel, that means a lot.”

She leans in and rests her head on your shoulder, and you give her a squeeze. “Now,” she starts, grinning, “do you know if he has any sons around our age for me?” Dissolving into giggles once more, you decide to give up on work for the remainder of the rainy day.

You rest a hand on your hip, taking a swig from your water bottle and admiring the efforts of the last half hour’s labor: the primly decorated circulation desk showcasing all the library’s services and resources for the reception guests to peruse. The attendees would begin arriving any minute and you were eager to present all the library offers for the faculty; you genuinely enjoy your work and you’re proud of the new primary source collection you’d established over the summer. It also meant you finally got to see Boba—you hadn’t gotten to see him when you and Selena went to his office to change, his department meeting having run over.

Try as you might, you can’t help the wanton tingle that sparkles down your spine under your dress, or heat creeping into your cheeks at the racy memories of the pleasure you found on his tongue, cock, and fingers. What you wouldn’t give for a quickie right now, just a little something to take the edge off…

“Excuse me, miss, where can we put the catering carts?”

Right, I’m supposed to be working. Stuffing all the wicked thoughts swirling in your head to the back of your mind, you smile at the event server and direct him down the hall. Hearing the swell of voices from the lobby, you turn and see the first attendees filing into the atrium, dressed in cocktail dresses and suits. Your eyes search for Boba in the crowd but you’re quickly caught up doing your presentation on the library’s collections and resources.

It’s not until your last group before you hand over your representative duties to Selena for the remainder of the evening that you spot Boba leaning against the wall across from the desk, watching you with Fennec at his side. Your practiced spiel jumbles together at the wicked gleam shining in his eyes and he smirks, whispering something to the handsome woman next to him. Taking a sip of water, you recover and roll your shoulders back to stick your tits out just a little more with your chin held high at his challenge.

After the group clears out and you hand things over to your friend, you saunter over to your two favorite professors. Sticking out a hip, you trail your eyes up the oxblood colored shirt stretched across Boba’s chest, taking in the delicious way his sharp onyx suit is tailored to his thick frame. Knowing what all is hidden underneath his clothes only makes the whole ensemble even hotter. “Can I answer any questions about the library for you, professors?” you ask in a syrupy voice, your tone laced with dark sugar.

Gazing at you rather appreciatively, Fennec answers first. “Yeah, are you free later?”

Your brows raise with a suggestive arch, biting your lip and leaning into her game. “Why, what do you have in mind?” you shoot back, letting your gaze linger on her pink lips.

She’s practically purring, running her long, graceful fingers down the length of your arm. “Why don’t you come home with me and find out, kitten?”

“Mmm sorry, no can do, Fenn,” you hum, flicking your eyes over to an amused Boba, “I already made plans with the new Mandalorian studies professor after this.”

“What? That old man?” she scoffs, flicking her intricate braid over her shoulder.

Boba throws an elbow at her, grumbling, “We’re the same karking age, Shand.”

“Well, Fett, I guess some of us just wear it better then.”

“I don’t know, that’s not what she was moaning in my ear last weekend,” Boba replies, as smooth as Corellian whiskey and just as sinful. A jolt of arousal shoots between your thighs, his open possessiveness sending heat straight to your core.

That remark earns a full-bellied laugh from Fennec. “Touché.”

Another faculty member passes by and steals Fennec away, allowing you to slip into her spot next to Boba and press your arm against his. While you don’t intend to hide your more-than-professional relationship with him, you don’t want to draw judgment down on either of you. “Fenn make you a little jealous?” you tease, bumping your elbow against him.

He smirks, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Not when I know you’re coming home with me, princess.” He slips a hidden hand between you and the wall to skim his fingertips down your back to settle his palm just above the swell of your ass, making your skin light up with the sensation of him. “It’s good to see you, babygirl, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it before the reception started,” he adds in a sweet, low voice, pressing a quick kiss into your hair. “And your presentation was excellent.”

You lean into him for just a heartbeat, savoring his affection before breaking away. The heated pulse between your thighs spurs you on. “Oh, you were actually listening? Looked to me like you were peeling this dress off me in your mind.”

“I heard you're supposed to imagine everyone else naked to do public speaking.”

You smack his arm, giggling. “That’s if you’re the speaker!”

“Ah well, it was worth it anyways,” he grins at you. Seeing a group approaching, he regretfully takes his hand off your back.

A few faculty from the biology department come over and greet you, its ever-affable head, Professor Bernard, pressing a glass of champagne in your hand. “The department of biology’s honorary member needs a drink!” he proclaims with a hearty laugh before clapping a hand on Boba’s shoulder, telling him, “Come see this one here if you need anything. She’s found papers and journals I didn’t even know still existed!”

“I’ve heard she has some… special skills,” Boba answers with a quirk of his lips.

Catching the tone gilding his words, you slide your gaze over to him and see that same mischievous twinkle in his eye. Oh, so it’s going to be like that then? Hope he knows what he’s started. The conversation continues as introductions are made on both sides and stories of the first week of classes are shared.

“You didn’t get stateside until a few weeks before the semester? How on earth did you manage to get everything done, old sport?” Bernard questions.

“Oh, that would be thanks to me,” you interject, grinning at the ensuing laughter, “Lucky for Professor Fett here, I was able to work very closely with him to get everything he needed.”

“And for that, I am eternally grateful. It’s not everyday you get someone who's so eager and willing to please,” Boba replies calmly, sipping from his own drink like he’s simply discussing the weather.

You cover your scoff with your glass and drain the rest of it. “And now since he owes me one, I’ve got him at my mercy. Just where I like him.”

“Looks like you’re in for it now, my friend!” the old biology professor guffaws, grasping Boba’s hand in a firm shake. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Fett. Stop by my office for a drink some time.”

The group moves on to the next familiar face in the crowd, leaving you and Boba alone. “Better watch it, princess,” he rumbles, enticing danger coating his words, “Or I won’t show you any mercy later tonight.”

With a cursory glance to confirm that no one is watching, you brush your lips over his ear, just enough to raise chill bumps on his tan skin. “Oh, professor,” you whisper, sordid and low, “that’s what I’m counting on.”

Though he’s never confirmed it in so many words, you know your professor likes to watch you play your little games, talk and flirt and ensnare yourself so deep in your own undoing you have no choice but to beg him for mercy when the night is over. He’s the patient hand of justice to your calculated subversive impulse, the solid weight to balance your scales. He’s the rock you scrape your match against to set your passions ablaze.

You’d learned to build bonfires, great roaring things, on the summer camping trips you’d taken with your cousins as a kid. You were even quite good at it, the framing of the timbers and the flick of the wrist necessary to strike the flint coming naturally to you. Maybe that’s why you were so good at burning through Boba’s patience with slippery innuendos and heated looks.

You know building a fire takes time; seasoned wood must be gathered, tinder procured, a spot cleared for the blaze, all this before the pyre can be built stick by stick. If constructed correctly, the dry litter would catch the struck spark and burn bright and hot, igniting the kindling to crackle and snap, eventually spreading the growing flames to the larger logs for a sustained burn. If the ratio of smaller sticks and thicker pieces was off or the build of the bonfire didn’t allow enough oxygen in to feed the early feeble flames, then the pyre would be nothing more than a smoking pile of cold wood. And that would not bring Boba to a boil, make him spill over hot and scalding in vexed passion.

His restraint and control were truly commendable. To his credit, he’d spent the larger part of the evening calmly watching you work the room during the baccalaureate reception, gifting smiles and glittering laughs to men who didn’t deserve them and to women who wouldn’t actually do anything with them, even if they wanted to. You are in your element and you know it, making you not only powerful but dangerously so.

Taking a sip of the sparkling flute of champagne pressed into your hand by the one of the history department, you let your eyes wander around the vibrant space, taking in the celebratory atmosphere around you as laughter and animated conversation twine together in a lively buzz. You take your time in your survey, knowing that your gaze would eventually land on what it sought. You spot Selena next to one of the exquisite floral arrangements decorating the room laughing with one of the film professors and Fennec leaning against one of the polished marble columns in deep conversation with a pretty woman with sparkling eyes. Looks like I’m not the only one going home with somebody tonight.

Finally, your languid scan of the party falls on its target: a certain Mandalorian studies professor. He looks truly glorious under the glistening chandeliers illuminating the library, they cast a soft, warm glow that makes his bronze skin gleam and scars glint with tantalizing effect. It’s his eyes, however, that make your knees go weak: they shine dark and expressive, the umber of them always on you no matter where you found yourself in the room. If eyes really are the windows to the soul like they say, then Boba Fett has a soul like the ocean, with unknowable depths and enough pressure to break bones, towering waves that doom sailors and hidden currents that whisk the unsuspecting into the abyss.

Gods above, you want to drown in him even if it takes calling down Poseidon's wrath to do so. You’ve built your pyre, now all that’s left is to light it.

Putting on your most dazzling smile, you sidle over to the drinks table to casually “bump” into Professor Lancaster, the admittedly handsome 30-something hot shot bachelor of the university faculty. “Oh, I am so sorry!” you apologize in a breathy rush, immediately grabbing a napkin to dab at the splash of champagne on the young man’s suit jacket. The look of surprise on Lancaster’s face swiftly morphs into opportunistic pleasure when he sees that the person with their hands on him is the young research librarian in a tight dress.

He grins. It’s a scavenger’s smile, hungry for a kill that isn’t his. “No worries, bright eyes. You okay?”

“Better now that I’m with you.” His brows shoot up and, you’re absolutely sure, so does his dick based on the way his pupils dilate. “Sorry,” you giggle, fluttering your lashes, “too much?”

You can feel how his greedy gaze slides over your exposed skin in open interest. “Maybe not enough,” he winks, “Let’s get you another drink.”

You spend the next twenty minutes at the young professor’s side as he slowly inches you towards the side door by circulating from one group to another under the guise of “making introductions”—like you didn’t already work at the university. The entire time you sneak peeks at Boba watching your antics with rapidly decreasing levels of patience. Eventually, you lose sight of him behind a cluster of English professors.

You’re literal feet from the exit when Lancaster slides a hand down to your waist, tugging you against his side by your hip bone. “What do you say, bright eyes? Wanna get out of here?”

The pompous look on his face tells you everything you need to know about this man: he’s used to getting what he wants and he’s not afraid to take advantage of your possible inebriation to get it. He’s disgusting. Suddenly, you’re very conscious of how much you dislike this man and consider slamming your heel down on his overpriced loafer. Before you get the chance, however, a familiar deep voice sounds from behind your back.

“Excuse me, I have some business with this one here.” Boba’s voice leaves no room for disagreement, at least if one was smart enough to know it.

Lancaster, unsurprisingly, is not. “We were just leaving,” he says dismissively with an annoyed expression, reaching to turn you towards the exit, “It’ll have to wait.”

“Don’t think it can,” Boba responds flatly. He grabs your bicep and peels you out of his grasp. Ignoring the younger man’s sputtering as he leads you down one of the hallways branching off from the atrium, going far enough that the noise from the reception starts to fade off. Rounding the corner into the stacks, he abruptly flattens you against the wall, caging you in and pinning you with his hips.

If his slight manhandling of you before had you wet, this has you soaked: his thick forearm rests on the wall next to your head while his other hand remains locked around your upper arm, just tight enough to remind you it could bruise if it got any tighter. His hips, however, are likely to leave their mark on yours—it’s all enough to drive you nearly insane with desire. You’re too hot for your own skin and Boba is radiating enough heat to brand you and melt your brain like wax.

“Not so brave now, are you, little princess?” Boba croons, licking his lips like he can taste your salt on his tongue. “Now that you’ve got nowhere to run and no pretty boys to bat your lashes at.” His muscular thigh pushes its way between your own and he grinds up into your center, forcing a moan up behind your teeth.

“I have… no idea… what… you’re talking… about,” you gasp, writhing on his thigh as your hands fly out to fist his suit jacket in a gnarled grip. You can feel your brain melting down the sides of your skull under his piercing gaze.

“Oh, you don’t?” he mocks, “Well let me enlighten you then, sweetheart. You spent the entire evening driving every man and the women Shand didn’t get to first out of their minds with your pretty little face and flirty little mouth. And all for what, to get my attention?”

You’re burning so hot you can’t even think, much less get your tongue to unstick to form a coherent sound, so all you can answer with is round, shiny eyes and a shiver.

“Well, now you have it, princess,” he continues, a predatory smirk slashing across his dark features that makes your insides twist with his danger. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“I-I was just having fun,” you manage, your voice coming out hoarse and pitchy. Boba’s pressed so far into you that you’re scraping along his thigh as you ride it.

He grunts, shaking his head in disbelief. “She says she was ‘just having fun…’” he mumbles to himself as if the thought is amusing to him. You flash a tentative smile in hopes of sweetening him up, but the lurid flash in his eyes signal that it’s far too late for such mercy. “If that’s what you do for fun, princess,” he hisses out the pet name, “then it looks like I need to keep you on a shorter leash.” Releasing your bicep, Boba’s hand wraps around your throat faster than your muddled perception can register.

The strangled curse that claws up from your chest can’t even escape the confines of your throat to sound. Blood rushes to your head as your entire existence narrows down to the rough hand pressing in on your airways. You’re gushing into your panties, the amount of wetness now coating your thighs utterly obscene. Fuck he’s going to be the death of me and I want him to do it.

Boba’s rumble of pleasure at your response rattles in your own chest as he eases up on the pressure of his fingers to let you suck in desperate air, rubbing the delicate flesh underneath. “Oh, you liked that didn’t you? You like it when I’m rough, dirty girl.” His taunts are pouring fire into your bloodstream and sweat begins to slick your skin. Leering, he drags his tongue over your racing pulse point and your mind goes searingly blank. For a moment, you think you might have actually come with the way blinding pleasure floods your entire body.

“Fuck, Boba!”

A sinful chuckles drips from his plush lips into your damp skin, and he seals it away there with a wet kiss before pulling back to look into your glazed eyes. “Do you know what I do with brats who forget their place?” he asks in a timbre so low you can feel it in your bones.

This you know, you think, this you can push back on and regain some ground. “You punish them with your silly little toys and spank their asses a bit,” you spit out, your derision honed sharp as your initial surprise begins to wear off.

“Oh no, princess, you’d enjoy that too much.” An acidic laugh pours from his lips, making your blood run painfully cold, and he smiles at you like you’re struggling prey caught in his maw. “What I do,” he growls, “is I don’t let them come.”

Before the words even leave the air between you, Boba releases you and pushes away from the wall where he had you pinned. You stumble forward, your head spinning with the dizzying loss of contact and terrifying revelation. Panic sticks needles into your skin. He wouldn’t… he couldn’t. He couldn’t, right?!

“Aww, is that not what you were expecting, sweetheart?” Boba asks with a crushing amount of false sympathy, chucking up your chin on two fingers. You’re coming apart at the seams and he loves it. “Thought you could pull one over on me?”

Heart pounding against your ribs, you race to figure a way to repair your situation, one that ended up with him fucking you through at least one orgasm. Kark, why did I think this was all a good idea again? Gods I’m so kriffing wet I can’t think. Come on… focus, focus! The second you get the idea you act on it, wasting no time debating its worth.

You drop to your knees right in front of him, yanking him forward by his belt buckle. Boba catches himself against the wall with an outstretched arm and a curse, his smug expression shattered by genuine shock. As he stares down at you with wild eyes, you grin a wicked thing. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was that not what you were expecting?”

Boba stares at you like you’ve remade his entire universe, his broad chest heaving under the straining buttons of his shirt. Sucking in a ragged breath, he hauls you to your feet and slams into you, his hand cupping the back of your skull so it doesn’t hit the wall when his lips crash into yours. You pulse and throb into one another, your every breath melting into his as your hands claw into clothes seeking the heat of the other. He becomes you and you become him as time stops moving—if only for a minute.

“Baby, princess, angel,” Boba moans into your mouth, “I gotta have you, I have to have you right fucking now. Go to your office and start touching yourself. Get yourself nice and ready so I can slide right into that perfect cunt as soon as I get you home. I’m going to pull the car around.”

Your panties don’t even make it into the house: Boba literally tears them off you as soon as he puts the car in park in his driveway, stuffing them into his pants pocket and promising to buy you a hundred more so he can do it again. Stumbling with you up the blessedly short path to his front door with a handful of your ass, Boba jams his key into the lock and you both tumble in the door, lips still connected. “Shit, aren’t you always good for a surprise?” he pants between kisses, fumbling with the door bolt until it locks behind him. “Dropping to your kriffing knees in the library. Kark, couldn’t even punish you after that, my bold little princess. Made me too fucking hard.”

Your lips smile against his as you push his jacket from his shoulders. “You just bring it out of me, sir, I-I can’t help it. Couldn’t stand the thought of not having you.” Boba groans at the epithet and you start pulling open his buttons with shaking hands. “That’s why I do it… can’t help myself, just want you so kriffing bad.” When you reach his pants at the end of his shirt, he snatches your wrists and spins you so your back is shoved against the door.

“You’re so good to me, so fucking good. Even when you’re a brat, you’re my little angel, doing it all for me. Maker, you’re perfect.” Boba snags the hem of your dress and bunches it over your hips, allowing the cool air access to your slick folds and making you shiver. “Good girls get rewarded, don’t they, princess? Yeah, that’s right. I’m going to make you feel so, so good, give you the reward you deserve.”

Your desire-dazed brain can’t decide whether to focus on the stream of filth pouring forth from his mouth or his lips as they kiss over your dress and down to your soft belly as he comes to kneel in front of you. Effortlessly tossing your leg over his shoulder while balancing you against him, Boba steadies your body with his hands on your hips. “Will you let me return the favor, pretty girl? Will you let me lick up this perfect pussy?”

Smiling down at him with lust-blown eyes, you answer in a breathy laugh. “But I didn’t even actually suck you off.”

“Bet you would have, though, princess, if I had let you.”

Fuck, he’s probably right. You weren’t kidding when you said you can’t help yourself. “Yeah, I would have,” you giggle, “Why didn’t you?” The thought of slipping his thick cock in between your lips when all those other people were just a hallway away sends a fresh wave of arousal dripping from your core.

“Mmm because I want to hear every single sound that comes out of your mouth tonight… and none of those fuckers deserve to even think about you, much less hear those sweet noises you make when you’re coming apart.” Boba begins layering sloppy kisses over your thighs and abdomen, circling ever closer to your drenched center. His dark eyes flick you to capture yours in a heated gaze. “Let me hear it, pretty baby, can I eat this sweet cunt?”

Lacing your fingers with his hand on your opposite hip, you lean your head back on the door. “Please, sir, please let me have your tongue.”

The words don’t even finish leaving your lips before he dives into between your legs, groaning like a man starved getting his first meal in months. The sounds of his slurping and sucking have your knees giving out almost immediately, rapturous pleasure consuming your entire being. All that exists is the way his tongue fucks into you, the way his lips wrap around your aching clit and how he pulls moans deep from within your stuttering chest. When his thick, calloused fingers push inside your weeping heat and curl, your hand slaps over your mouth to stifle a ragged scream as explosions of color blur your vision.

Boba claps his palm against your ass and pops off your clit. “Don’t you fucking dare cover that mouth of yours. I want to hear everything, sweetheart, I want you to wake up the whole fucking neighborhood with how good I make you feel.”

The torturous coil in your belly tightens to a delicious pain and you let your pleasure be heard, your jaw falling slack as your head tips back against the heavy wooden door. Boba redoubles his efforts, cursing and praising, sucking and licking, twisting you tighter and tighter around your own desire until it’s almost unbearable. When a third finger slips into you, it feels like the floor drops from beneath your feet and you know you're doomed to your desire. “Please, can I-can I-”

“Fucking come all over me,” he growls straight into your clit, digging so deep into you think you see the Maker.

A wail tears free from your chest, echoing off the walls and vibrating in your skull as you dissolve into pure pleasure, raw and vulnerable against the mountain of his body. To be so ethereal and untouchable in his arms is a new, divine dimension of your ecstasy that heals you even as you fall apart into a soaked, quivering mess.

“Nau’ul be kar’ta,” Boba coos in a voice like crushed velvet, rich and dark, “my beautiful, perfect girl, come here.” You collapse in a trembling heap into his waiting arms, your mind nothing but a plane of warm, fuzzy bliss. You’re lifted and arranged in his lap by impossibly strong hands as you drift through the glowing stars of your high. Boba rocks you gently against his heaving chest, a stream of patient praise streaming from his lips pressed into your hair. “You did so good for me… taste so sweet, makes me want to keep you on my tongue forever… kark, bet the whole street is jealous with how loud you were, such a good girl, letting me hear that sweet voice just like I asked…”

Eventually your senses start to return and you wiggle around to straddle him, placing your molten core directly over top of his straining erection and eliciting a graveled groan from him. “Mmm, that was amazing, professor,” you hum into his throat, “Now let me return the favor.” You tug his shirt off and he lets you drop it to the floor. “I wanna go over every single tattoo on your body with my tongue until it’s all I can remember.”

“Kark, you’re filthy, princess,” he groans, his cock twitching with interest underneath his pants as hauls you up with him off the floor. By the time you stagger to the bedroom, your clothes are gone, littered in a trail from the door to his room. Seizing your opportunity, you shove him back on the mattress and hop on top of him, pushing a grunt from him that makes you giggle. “Easy, little one, I’m not as young as I once was,” he grits out between your kisses.

Grinning into the thick muscle of his pec, you nip at the ink you just traced with your tongue. “Sorry, I forgot I have to be careful with you, old man.” Boba pinches your ass and you squeak, though you remain unrepentant.

“You must want me to be mean to you tonight, sweetheart.”

You continue licking and sucking over the dark swirling patterns on his chest. “Mmm, maybe I do.” While you’d never been much for that sort of thing before, none of those men before had been Boba. If his praise is sweeter than honey you can only imagine how delicious his ire would be, and something hot sparks between your legs. “But I wouldn’t want to wear you out, old timer.”

A dangerous, low chuckle emanates from the ribs under your lips and your insides twist into knots. “You really know how to bring it out of me, don’t you, naughty princess? I think you really do want me to be mean, want me to treat you just like how you’ve been acting all evening.” Snatching you against his chest, he grabs your jaw in a tight grip. “Tell me, little one, is that what you want? You want me to call you names and remind you who you belong to?” He brushes his thumb over your cheek in a small show of affection that reminds you this is all a game, and you can call it off if you want to. It makes your heart sing—and your pussy clench.

“Yes, Boba,” you rasp, molten desire pumping hot and heady under your heated skin, “I want that, please.” You’ve accepted the fact that Boba Fett makes you want things that you never have before, sinful things that make your cheeks burn and heart race. It’s a forbidden fruit that the professor is all too willing to indulge you in, him licking up its sweet juice as it dribbles down your chin.

“Anything you don’t want me to call you? Any limits you want to set?” he questions, his voice taking on that firm, guiding tone he always used when he worked through things with you.

Chewing your lip, you consciously slow your breath like how Boba taught you so you can focus in the moment when you’re all worked up. “Don’t call me ‘bitch’ or anything too serious like that. ‘Whore’ and ‘slut’ are fine though.”

He nods, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Remember to stop me if you don’t like something, babygirl, I’ll never be upset if you do. What’s our word?”

“Kamino,” you answer dutifully, wriggling a little in your excitement, desire licking up your thighs—your evening-long machinations were about to come to fruition.

“Good girl,” he praises, “Ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

The dominant, possessive side Boba tucked away during your discussion returns tenfold more wicked now that it’s all decided. He sits up, taking you with him as drops down into the armchair against the wall. “Then get on your knees,” he sneers, “You want to act like a whore, throwing yourself at everyone who shows you any interest in that tight little dress you had on, I’m going to treat you like one. I want you sucking my dick like that’s all you know how to do.”

You drop so fast it makes your head spin, allowing your base desire to freely submit. You undo his belt with hungry fingers, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants to reveal his half-hard girth. Instead of yanking down the last barrier separating him from your tongue, you run your nails up his thighs and drag your open mouth over his growing bulge over his underwear, pulling a hiss from his lips.

“I didn’t say tease me, girl,” he admonishes, though he’s fully hard now, straining against the confines of the fabric still on him. “If you do as you’re told, maybe I’ll think about giving that pussy what I know it needs.”

You moan into him, his cock jumping at the feeling. You tear down his underwear and his beautiful cock springs forth, proud and already leaking. “Fuck,” you exhale as you take him all in, “you’re so big.” Kark, I swear he’s even bigger than last time.

“Aw, don’t be scared, sweetheart, I like it when they choke,” he taunts with a cruel chuckle that goes straight to your sopping cunt. He pumps his tanned length a few times and your mouth waters at the sight of it. “Now open up that pretty mouth.”

Your jaw drops open and you stick your tongue out, wide and ready, your hands folded in your lap. Wiggling in anticipation, you blink big eyes up at him through your lashes.

“Fuck, look at you. You’re fucking filthy for me, aren’t you? On your knees right where you belong, tongue out like the good little slut you are. Go ahead, princess, I know you want it.” He smacks the head of his cock on your waiting tongue and you lunge forward, ravenous for more of him. He groans as you swirl around his frenulum, lapping off the pearls of precum waiting for you. Your hands travel up his thighs and he releases his grasp to let you replace it with your own.

Cupping his balls, you plant wet, sloppy kisses down his length, pleased when you feel the slightest tremble in his thighs. Peeking up at him, you find Boba looking down at you, his eyes pitch black and voracious in their desire. Keeping your gaze fixed on him, you lean in and pepper kisses around his base before flicking your tongue out to drag along the seam of his balls.

“Shit-fuck!” His right hand flies to your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “Kark, you’re dirty,” he rasps, tugging your face back a little to look in your eyes.

You grin up at him, spit already dripping down your chin. “Just for you, sir.” Your voice is breathy, your chest already heaving from exertion.

“Good girl, learning her place already. Now finish this up for me, little princess, I still have to fill that pussy full so everyone knows just who you belong to.” The whimper that falls from your lips would have been embarrassing if you weren’t so turned on you can barely form a thought that isn’t concerned with getting his dick inside you. “Aw, does that make you wet, pretty baby?” he mocks, clearly enjoying your depraved reactions. “You like it when I talk to you like you’re my personal whore, my warm mouth and tight little pussy to take whenever I feel like it?”

You pull at the hand holding you back by your hair, desperate to have him down your throat, desperate to cry and gag at the size of him. Boba chuckles, deep and pleased in his chest and loosens his grip so you can get him back in your eager mouth. Once you have him heavy on your tongue, you hum happily and begin bobbing your head over his velvet length, gradually taking more of him into your mouth. Boba’s hips stutter when you slide your tongue along the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock, triggering your gag reflex.

You try to swallow down the suffocating feeling, but the sheer girth of him makes your throat close up. Choking and coughing, you pull off of him, tears beading in your lashes and spit running down your neck. Boba takes your face in his warm, calloused hands and tilts your face up to him. “Everything okay, little one? Too much?” he asks, concern lining his handsome face.

“No,” you pant, voice already ragged, “‘s perfect, just caught me by surprise.” You smile up at him then turn your head to kiss his palm. He’s so good to you that it makes you ache.

He swipes his thumbs over your cheeks, wiping away the moisture collected on your lashes. “Okay, I want you to tap me anywhere three times if you need to stop. It’s the same as our word if you can’t speak. Can you say that back to me so I know you understand?” You nod, repeating back the information. “That’s my good girl,” he beams, “Now I think there’s something you need to finish.”

You’re on him in an instant, guiding him back into your waiting mouth hungrily. As much as you love licking and sucking up and down his cock, slurping and swirling with abandon, what you really want is to do is take him to the hilt and swallow him down until he loses control. Taking what hasn’t made it past your lips in hand, you start pumping him and twisting your wrist, your fingers sliding easily over his spit-soaked skin.

“Fuuuu- that’s it,” he grunts, “look at you taking me so well. You must really want me to fuck you, my filthy little princess, must really want- shit.” He hisses, his hand shooting out to brace himself against the wall when slide enough of him in your mouth to take your hands off him to rest them on his hips. You look up to see his eyes screwed shut and his jaw clenched, and you hum appreciatively around the thickness stuffing your mouth, “Osik, d-do it, I know you can take it all, sweetheart. Do it for me and-shit-and I’ll fuck you so good I’ll be dripping from your pussy for days.”

You moan, your throat relaxing to take the last inch and you swear you could’ve come just from the sound that ripped free from his chest if it didn’t take all your brainpower to keep him seated in your mouth.

“Kark-fucking-stars above,” Boba chokes out, his free hand coming to guide you up and down his cock at a steady pace, “Look at you taking it all, I’m so proud of you, so p-proud, fuck, pretty girl.” His eyes are locked onto where he’s disappearing over and over again into your open mouth.

Blinking up at him with watery eyes, you swallow around his thick cock and he snarls. He tugs you off him and pulls you up into his arms, kissing you like he needed you to breathe and walking you both back until your thighs hit the bed. It feels like he’s everywhere, his tongue filling your mouth, his hands grabbing every inch of you as his hips pin down your own. “Shit, open up those legs for me, princess, I need to be inside you right fucking now.”

You fall back on the mattress, letting your thighs fall open. “Please, sir,” you gasp when two of his thick fingers slide inside you with no resistance.

Boba groans, the sound so deep it feels like it rattles in your own. “This fucking wet just from sucking my dick. Kark, you’re really a whore for an old man aren’t you, sweetheart?” You can only moan in response, clenching around his rough fingers and keening into him, unable to communicate any more of an answer than that. “Cockdumb already, little princess? Here I thought you were my big girl… maybe I should just go back to fucking your mouth if you’re not going to use it. You certainly were eager to run it earlier though, weren’t you? Talking to all those other men like they could possibly make your sweet little pussy feel like I can.”

His thumb finds your clit and you cry out, arching into him. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me, please give me your cock!” Your head is snatched back by your hair, making a high whine catch in your abused throat at the sudden movement.

“You know better than to say my name,” he threatens, his rasp dangerously low. “Mmm, since you suck cock so good I’ll let it slide this one time, but you had better not forget again, little girl. You hear me?” Boba’s eyes are ablaze with dark fire, the intensity of him burning with the heat of a dying star, sucking you into his inescapable gravity.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” you whimper. His scalding words are going to make you come apart at the seams just as much as his fingers.

“Oh, you will be.” He pulls out you with an obscene squelch, a trail of your arousal connecting him to you. “Look at that, my princess wants it so bad. She wants anything I fucking give her. Isn’t that sweet? No, you know what, don’t answer that. Be a good little slut and clean this up for me.” He pushes his slick coated fingers past your swollen lips and you moan at the tang of your own arousal, your heady taste spreading over your tongue as you suck his fingers clean. He removes his hand from your face, the digits in your mouth coming out with a lewd pop.

Lining himself up with your dripping slit, Boba takes your face gently in his large hand, the caress so much softer than his previous words. “Hey, look at me, babygirl.” You slide your gaze up his broad chest to find his sable eyes. “You good? Everything okay? I know I usually prep you a little more than this.”

“Yeah, s’good. I’m so fucking wet, bet you’ll slide right in,” you giggle, slurred and happy. Truthfully, you hope it’d hurt a little, just enough so that you’d feel it tomorrow—a secret reminder that you were his.

Boba gives you a smile, a real smile bright and shining, not one of his mean ones from your game. “Okay, little one. Remember you can say your word or tap me three times if it gets to be too much. I don’t want my princess hurting.”

Golden affection blooms in your chest even as you give him a sassy little salute. “Yessir.”

“Maker, what am I going to do with you?” he huffs, exasperated. The twinkle in his eye betrays him, however.

“Hopefully, fuck me.”

“As you wish, brat.” Boba slots his lips over yours and slides into your heat, inch by inch as you moan into each other’s mouths, completely enraptured with the feeling of one another. When he pulls back to sink in further, he hisses out a curse. “How’re you always so fucking tight? Shit, you feel so fucking good.”

The way he’s slowly splitting you open makes your eyes roll back in your head, your hands scrabbling across his shoulders for purchase. “Fuck, you’re going to tear me in two… don’t stop,” you whine. The stretch around his cock burns, quickly fizzling into hot pleasure that makes you crave more, deeper, harder. It’s ungluing the edges of your mind, pushing your good sense out of your skull one thick inch at a time. Tears prick your eyes at the delicious strain, your teeth biting down on Boba’s lip as he pushes flush with your hips. You’re not sure if the guttural moan is his or yours or both combined, you’re so full of him.

Boba snaps his hips, jolting you further up the bed and setting a harsh pace that has your legs shaking around his hips. You’re burning, melting, screaming, completely wrecked by his pleasure. He’s leaning over you now, an arm bracing himself next to your head as he drills into you with unwavering force. Tearing his lips from yours, he licks a searing stripe up your neck that makes you clench around his pounding thrusts. “Fuck, you think that boy can fuck you like this? Think he can stretch you out on his cock and make you cry and beg for him? Hmm?”

Hot tears spill down your cheeks. Whimpering, you shake your head. “N-no, s-sir, only you! Onlyyouonlyyou, fuck, only you!”

“Fuck, you’re dirty, aren’t you? Ready to suck my dick with all those people there, riling me up all night so I’d take you back here and fuck you like the slut that you are for me. That’s right, isn’t it? Yeah, I know it is. You’re such a good little slut for me, taking my cock like that’s all you were made for. Kark, I bet you’d let me fuck you in front of all of them wouldn’t you, my filthy little princess?”

You moan, raking your nails down his back and making him curse in pleasure. “I w-would do anything, you feel so good, fuck, I would let you do anything to me! Just don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

“You want it, huh? You want me to fuck you and make you all mine, fill up that tight little cunt and so my cum runs down your legs? You gonna take every drop I give you like the good little girl I know you are?”

“Yes, sir, please,” you sob, overwhelmed by the rough drag of him against your collapsing walls and his skin burning into you with each thrust of his powerful hips.

“Then tell me who this pussy belongs to, I wanna hear you say it so you never karking forget it again.”

“You, you, it belongs to you!”

“Say my name, princess, say my fucking name.”

“Boba! It belongs to you, Boba Fett, I’m all fucking yours, Boba, please!”

He pulls back, grabbing the back of your thighs and shoving them up, folding you in half. Slamming back into you, he slides a hand between your bodies to rub your clit in tight, maddening circles.

“More, please more!” you beg, clawing at his free hand until he lets you have it, and you place it on your throat.

Boba growls, wrapping his fingers around your neck and squeezing so that your world narrows down to just the feeling of him. Finally just him and nothing else.“Osik, you’re so fucking filthy and perfect, never wanna stop fucking this sweet cunt. K’atini ner cyare!”

“I’m gonna… can I… please,” you choke out, barely holding onto the last shreds of your sanity against the onslaught of ecstasy burning through you.

Groaning, Boba covers your mouth with his. “Come for me, soak my cock, give it to me, come on, princess, I know you can do it.”

Everything goes blank, your muscles constricting and your nails digging into his shoulders. Pure, electric energy fires through your veins, overloading your senses to a searing bright pleasure that makes you understand how the universe could start with a bang. You’re rocked with two, three, more pumps that shatter your fledgling universe and then you’re flooded with the sweet heat of his release.

You’re not entirely sure if you’re conscious as you float through the glittering galaxies that flash behind your eyes in dazzling color; you’re not even sure you remember how to breathe but you must be, because your lungs aren’t protesting. The next thing you’re truly aware of is being in Boba’s arms, laying curled into his chest on the bed while his fingers scratch pleasantly against your scalp. Humming in delight, you snuggle deeper into his woody scent.

“Mmm, there she is,” he chuckles, the warm sound buzzing in his chest.

“Nuh uh,” you shake your head, squeezing your eyes back shut—you want to be lost in him forever.

“Gotta come back some time, pretty girl, or I can’t get you in a nice warm bath then tuck you in bed with me,” he entreats, rubbing warmth into your limbs with calloused hands.

You consider this tempting offer; it certainly would be better than sleeping sticky all night, you suppose. “Can you bring me a snack?”

“I can bring you a snack.”

“And I can have a massage?”

Boba lets out an amused huff, giving you a squeeze. “And I will give you a massage,” he confirms.

You make a show of pondering the issue further, chewing your lip and studying the ceiling thoughtfully. “I guess I’ll allow it then, professor.”

Boba laughs again and eases you both up to a sitting position before sliding from underneath you so he can walk around to your side.

Rolling over, your thighs spread a little, and you gasp and slap them back together when you see the mess there. “Boba!” you squeak.

“What, little one?”

“You, it-it,” you stutter, tripping over the words in your shock, “how is there so much?”

He cocks a brow and you let your legs fall all the way open. “Oh, princess,” he breathes out, his voice a strained rasp. The inside of your thighs are slick with both your cum and your folds are coated in his pearly release, the excess dripping down to soak a spot on his sheets. Boba reaches down and spreads your lower lips a little farther apart, sending more of him leaking down your slit. Boba curses and you bite down hard on your bottom lip around the moan flooding up your chest.

“Well,” he grins, smug as the cat who caught the canary, “I did tell you I was going to fill you full, princess.”

Feeling equally refreshed and drowsy from your warm bath, you robotically go through the motions of your nighttime routine. From his bathroom mirror, you catch a glimpse of Boba where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed: he looks forlorn, his eyebrows furrowed over a pensive expression. For such a larger-than-life man, he seems almost… small.

His pain weighs heavy on your soul, prompting a visceral reaction in your gut. The muscles in your chest tighten and your arms yearn to press him close so there would be no room for pain in his body. Flicking off the light, you pad over to him with deliberate ease as not startle him in his revelry; Boba is a hardened man, you know, but you want to nurture that slip of vulnerability he allows himself in your presence, protect it close to your own.

He smiles when he sees you approaching, quickly papering over his melancholy expression with a happier one, but it doesn’t manage to make it to his brown eyes. He spreads his legs a little wider so you can stand between them and pulls you close with his hands on your hips. “All done, princess?”

“Yep,” you answer, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. You let a few silent seconds slip by, making way for him to speak his mind. When he doesn’t acknowledge his latent discontent, you settle back on your heels with a sigh. “You gonna tell me what’s bothering you or am I going to have to threaten you again?”

Boba grumbles a huff that sounds a lot like “too observant” and tips forward to bury his face in your tits, pulling you further into him. You allow him a few moments of respite, stroking the back of his neck with light fingers before easing his face up to look at you.

“It’s nothing, really-” he starts, his expression clouded over with false reassurances.

“Don’t try that crap with me,” you cut him off sternly. Then, more gently, you add, “Please Boba, be honest with me. You help me… let me help you.”

“You know I can’t deny you,” he mumbles after a moment, defeat echoing in the back of his throat. He leans forward, and you let him rest his cheek on your chest while he silently composes his thoughts as your fingers resume their patterns on his neck. “Watching you tonight… you are so bright and young and beautiful, and I’m just an old man with a scar for a heart that never quite worked right. You deserve… so much more than what I can give you. Someone who can make their words come out right because you deserve to know how special you are, cyar’ika. Someone who doesn’t have a past like mine, a person without so many sharp edges and broken parts. I’m missing pieces and you deserve someone who’s more… whole.”

There’s true pain in his voice, the agony and strife of a man who has endured and had to bear the cost of that survival on his own, with wounds that never completely healed alongside scars that run so deep they’re etched into his bone and being. If only he knew how beautiful it made him that he never let that secret soft part of him die, you think. That despite what would have been the logical choice for anyone in his position, he chose to tuck his tenderness away for safekeeping rather than letting it wither in reality’s harsh sun.

“Boba, I want you to listen to me and listen to me good.” You take his beautiful face between your palms and trace your thumbs over his cheekbones, mimicking the affectionate gesture he often used with you. This close you can see the dark lashes around his brown eyes and all the torment held within them; it makes you physically ache to know that this man, this perfect, wonderful man doesn’t think he deserves everything good and pure because he’s roughed up and his soul has some dings in it. That it somehow precluded him from deserving the same love he so willingly gives to you despite your own imperfections.

“I love you, Boba Fett, I love every scar on your body, every bruised muscle and broken bone. I love your dark, hidden parts just as much as the ones which see the light. You know why? Because they made you who you are, they made you into the man who makes me feel safe, makes me feel beautiful and happy. You are a man of action and that’s worth far more to me than any string of pretty words ever could be. You are enough and you are mine, and the sooner you accept that, the better.”

By the way his fingers clutch into the plush of your hips, you can tell he desperately wants to believe you, that he wants to reject the jagged demon of doubt buried in his heart like old shrapnel. But Boba casts his eyes down, still unsure.

“Do you trust that I can make my own decisions?” you ask, soft and firm, patient but unrelenting. He nods with a hum of agreement. Closing the gap between you, you rest your forehead against his creased brow, “Then let me make this one,” you whisper, kissing him until your lungs burn for air, and even then you stay on his lips for a few more lingering seconds.

Boba looks into your eyes, staring like you held all the secrets of the universe within them. After a couple of heartbeats, he loops his arms around your waist and pulls you back on top of him on the bed, making you yelp and giggle. Kissing you, he maneuvers the two of you under the blankets. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he breathes into you, the peaks and valleys of his father’s tongue rippling in your mind like cool water over rounded river stones. “Thank you for that, babygirl. I will try.”

You hadn’t yet asked him what any of the Mando’a words that slipped out of him meant, permitting him his secrets for now. Shifting your hips over his and deepening the kiss, you lick into his mouth as you lazily start to rut into him. Boba has given you a lot just now and you want to see that he’s rewarded for it.

“Little princess,” he chastens when your pace begins to pick up, “it’s late and I’m old.”

“You're not that old,” you nip at his lip, “and I’ll be on top.” You accent your offer with a grind of your hips that has him groaning at the friction between your bodies.

“You're not a very good listener, are you?” he grunts, “Besides, I need you well rested for tomorrow. I'm taking you out on a date.”

You stop dragging your hips over his, pulling back to stare at him. “A date?! You didn't tell me that, I didn’t bring anything to wear!”

“That’s because first, I’m taking you to get some more of those little sundresses you like to tease me with so much, and then I thought we’d go to that poppy farm you showed me on your phone the other day. They have ice cream there and a lemonade stand.”

You squeal in delight, kissing Boba all over his handsome face while he smiles warmly up at you. “You are too good to me, Boba Fett!” you manage between your flurry of pecks. He puts the sun in your chest and in air in your sails, and on top of all that, he’s apparently a secret romantic.

“Princess, I'm just getting started. You mean so much to me and I'm going to do my best to never let you forget it.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you settle into his side, curling into him. “Now get some sleep, cyar’ika, I’ll be at your side, always.”

—Endnotes: I went to a poppy farm the other weekend and it was so effortlessly romantic I knew I had to write some Boba to go with it. (also don’t look at me like that, y’all KNEW this was gonna be a sugar daddy fic eventually lmao)

I've got some stuff coming up so the next posting will be two weeks out instead of one (I'm sorry 😭) but rest assured that I will be posting some extra snippets to make up for it!

MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS

(ner) cyare - (my) beloved, love

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

nau’ul be kar’ta - light of my heart

ni kar’tayl gar darasuum - I love you, (lit. "I hold you in my heart forever")

osik - Mando'a curse akin to "shit"

#i honestly do not know how i survived writing this #i think i passed out several times and my fingers just kept typing because 😮‍💨🥴🥵#professor boba owns my entire ass (and p*ssy)#zwei writes #fanfic #ex libris fic #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #professor!boba fett #professor boba fett #professor au #star wars fanfiction

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thewriterowl · 4 months

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So, I'm exhausted and stressed and can't focus fully on writing fan fiction but seems ready to unleash creative spew on the SW-series we have gotten and how it could've been SO much better. I wanted to start with one, the one that seemed to have been the trigger of this weird ripple of poorly written series and see if I can unleash more for others (Not you Andor, you are perfection)

Book of Boba Fett

Scrap Din. Completely. Remove him. He doesn't even touch the show. Mentioned is acceptable, maybe even a sort of cameo where Fennec comes in to see Boba talking to him but hears nothing as they disconnect. Boba makes some note on what Djarin is doing as a way to express how much time has passed since the end of Season 2 of the Mandalorian. Maybe. But that's it.

Instead, there will be more memories opening up the episodes, even after Boba heals and is back to true form. For one, I think it would be beneficial to show a bit more young-Boba and show how angry and hateful and scared he was after Jango's death (let's get some re-makes of Clone War scenes) and how it shows his anger is consuming him. Show clips of him connected with Cad Bane and the dent in his helmet. Give little pieces to show how he went from that very angry and feral child to the rather composed man in Empire Strike's Back-Return of the Jedi to where he is now.

The tension of the politics are stretched out more. We will see Boba trying to actually take on a leadership role as Daimo but has the urge to be like he was before. And it's only when he starts allowing more of his self out does the good leader really blossom (ie. his brilliance of having the dinner above the supposed empty cage). He can even have conversations with Fennec of, "I was reckless and stupid with my anger before. And I got a face full of a scars and a head with less hair because of it." With her, ever the snarky wise one, going, "Being angry doesn't mean you be stupid."

Street kids are good, but not with the motorbikes. I feel they should've been more like the one character Kenobi met (his daughter in real life) who was telling him to get high and forget his problems--it's easier that way. They felt too punk and it was out of place for this planet at this time. They steal, maybe Robin Hood things here and there but are mostly out for their own group and themselves; exactly how Boba and Fennec were just a short time ago. Fennec could even connect to that girl and scoff in memory, "You're tough...I met a kid just like you on a job before" and now we have the presences of Omega within this series and how important she is here and not just in a singular location and can give audience the hope Omega and Boba will one day meet (season 3 of Bad Batch sorta helping confirm or deny this). While Boba is able to connect and warn them to not be like him and let their anger and hatred fool them into trusting arrogance. maybe someone makes a point, or maybe Boba realizes it himself, but this sounds very Jedi-esque and that haunts him.

Boba spent so many years hating the Jedi (mainly Mace) so having these moments of maturity would make him pause. It would end, of course, with him denouncing the belief because he is Mandalorian, like his father before him, and not everything is about the Jedi, because he fully believes in revenge and anger just not like how he used to. Now, he controls it. It doesn't control him. And he can let his hate for the Jedi finally go (ghost Mace, who was probably watching him the whole time is so relieved and lets the man go as well; not in the show but just in my heart).

The Tribe is not dead and, instead, at least a few survived (ie the child and the warrior and a few others; we did not get that incredible train scene for them to be all killed off camera) and we see Boba, who is dealing with the trauma of everything in his life, have a moment where he breaks down and apologizes to them (maybe not anything specific; maybe not really to them but to his younger self who never had a chance) seeing this as his fault. They forgive him, cause he needs forgiveness in some way, and offer him a home within their smaller tribe but he isn't ready for that and they accept it. Now, they are the ones who return to him and assist him in the final battle. This will also lead up to where it comes full circle for him. He will offer them a place within the city but they do not accept (they are a colonized people after all; I do not see them wanting to be within that city) and instead are welcomed to his territory as a home-base to return to should they ever wish and they part on good terms and promises of seeing each other again. It would end with Boba watching them leave into the setting suns, feeling longing but also a sensation of peace that they were going where they should go and he was where he was needed. So, he turns from them as they disappear into the melting suns and grunts out, "Just a simple man who made his way in the universe." And FIN.

We can keep a lot of the other craziness--he has his Rancor (i love this part of the story), he deals with corrupt politicians, Peli meets her next boy-toy cause Din (name cameo) suggested her for Boba's use, Black Krrsantan is in the picture, Cad Bane is the big bad who shoots down Vanth (and that final end scene is still there), and so many other ridiculous parts! They could all connect and make sense!

And there can be this theme that is trying to beat Boba over the head about anger. Because we have seen anger so much through the eyes of Jedi--this can really be a new type of accepting and letting things go. More akin to the anger we see constantly simmering and boiling over in Andor but in a more personal way and showing that it doesn't need to be snuffed out but honed (controlled). It can be why Boba seems so mild at times, it's because he is learning about who he is to be, but then is able to show us the (fan) Boba that was so popular is still there--he's just someone who is trying to fill a role he thinks he has to completely change for.

#star wars #the mandalorian #the book of boba fett #boba fett #writing #my own little vent cause this show deserved better #and it could've been better with some changes and nO DIN

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burnwater13 · 2 months

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Fennec Shand and Boba Fett in the throne room of the Daimyo's palace near Mos Espa, on Tatooine addressing the Majordomo. (Mok Shaiz's Majordomo out of frame). Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 1, Stranger in a Strange Land. Calendar by DataWorks.

Grogu knew it didn’t seem likely. It was strange. He accepted that. Fennec Shand was his friend and he really liked her. She was sassy, strong, and an expert at a lot of things. She wasn’t afraid of his dad and she wasn’t actually afraid of the Daimyo either. That was impressive. Almost everywhere he went with his dad, people were afraid of Mandalorians to the extent of crossing the street, darting indoors, or simply turning around and walking away. It was impressive, if a little bit dramatic.

If they should worry about anyone, they should worry about Fennec. She had excellent aim with any weapon you tossed her way, she could run down a fathier, and she could disappear at the click of a blaster activating. Then, much like Peli Motto, she seemed to know everyone and every little, itty, bitty, bit of gossip traded anywhere on Tatooine. That was impressive all by itself.

Of course he didn’t tell his dad about how he felt toward Fennec. Being her friend. He didn’t want Din Djarin to get jealous. The Mandalorian handled it poorly at best. Like the time he gave Peli a kiss on the cheek because she had the pit droids make him one of his favorite meals, flash fried gorg on a stick. Din had some harsh words for her, but Grogu had thought he shouldn’t have been so touchy about it. The Mandalorian argued that he was asking who told the pit droids they could use the N-1’s engines to do that flash frying (or roasting, technically speaking). How was Peli to supposed to know that she had to get special permission for crying out loud? Or that the engines of the N-1 could actually set the Mandalorian’s cape on fire? Din Djarin was being unfair.

That’s exactly why Grogu didn’t want his dad to get upset over all the projects he and Fennec took on. It he did, Grogu would see less of his friend and he really didn’t want that to happen. Other than his dad, the Daimyo, the Majordomo, Greef Karga, and Peli, Fennec was the only person he knew who told great bedtime stories. They all started, “The last time I was on Coruscant…” or “The last time I was on Corellia…” or “The last time I was on Chandrila…”. He loved that. It set the scene and knew he was going to hear a story about a thrilling chase, with some blaster fire and hand to hand combat, that always ended with Fennec collecting, protecting, or silencing, whoever had been on her list of problems to take care of. She was a great problem solver. And once the story was underway, she didn’t stop telling it until it was done. Not like his dad who would let him fall asleep half way through. If Grogu fell asleep, Fennec would tickle his feet and keep telling the story. She said she could leave a task of any sort half done.

That was part of the reason Grogu liked to hang out with her. He wanted to learn how to solve problems in different ways to make sure they weren’t left half done. Even now, he worried that Moff Gideon wasn’t really gone. The person who burned up on Mandalore was probably a clone. Sad for the clone certainly, but good for Moff Gideon mark one. Dank Farrik!

Now, with Fennec teaching him how to make sure that anything he started was completed, if he ever ended up crossing paths with any version of Moff Gideon, he’d be able to find and implement a method to permanently shut him down. Grogu couldn’t imagine that any version of the Moff would be kinder, gentler, and more thoughtful and considerate than the original and the original was bereft of all of those qualities. Jedi weren’t supposed to be vengeful, but Grogu was willing to make an exception for certain people. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Which was another thing that he appreciated about Fennec. She was very quick at discerning what was right and what was wrong. She didn’t slow herself down by ponding the moral or ethical implications of the work she undertook. If she didn’t think it was worth the risk or thought that the reward wasn’t rewarding enough, she just didn’t do it. You’d never find her cleaning out the rancor’s enclosure. Nope. Not her.

His dad on the other hand, could be compelled to do some of the worst work just because the Creed demanded it, honor demanded it, or he’d made a promise to someone at some nebulous point in the distant past. That had gotten them both into a fair amount of trouble. Just look at what happened when the Mandalorian decided to prove to Bo-Katan and Armorer that Mandalore could still support life! It was a nightmare! You wouldn’t find Fennec getting caught up in stuff like that. Nope. Grogu respected that because he wished he could use that same technique to avoid cleaning his room.

Grogu sighed and made his way to the throne room. He wanted to see what lesson he could learn from her.

“…he’d have fed you to his menagerie.”

Fennec’s words didn’t sound nice, but she delivered them in a strangely matter of fact manner that made the person standing in front of her begin to sweat.

“I promise you Administrator, I will send fresh frogs right over. I had no idea that freshness was a key quality for rancor feed.”

“I don’t feed them to a rancor. As if you would be that lucky. They are fed to a powerful Jedi and he likes them fresh.”

“Of course, of course, of course.” The person bowed as they spoke and when they reached the threshold of the room, they turned and ran out of the room as fast as they could.

Fennec turned from her perch on the Daimyo’s throne and smiled at Grogu.

“The things I do to keep you and the Daimyo happy, kid. Be glad that he likes you.”

Grogu returned her smile. He was glad that they both liked him, but perhaps he was a little, teeny, tiny bit more glad that Fennec liked him. Perhaps.

#calendar prompt a day #din djarin #grogu #the book of boba fett #fennec shand #boba fett #majordomo

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beskarandblasters · 1 year

Text

Tolerate It

Ex!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author's note: The title and story are loosely based on the Taylor Swift song. As always let me know your thoughts and requests are currently open.

Summary: You and Din used to be in a relationship but split before Grogu left to train with Luke. You find Din on Nevarro on your way to talk to Greef Karga, asking him why he doesn’t have Grogu anymore. Which leads to talks about your past together.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: post season Book of Boba Fett/beginning of season 3, angst, reader is able-bodied, Din can lift reader, fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex on the starfighter... 👀, no use of y/n

To say that Nevarro has changed for the better would be an underestimate. It’s practically a brand new place now, thanks to Greef Karga. But thinking of Nevarro and Greef leads you to thinking of the bounty hunter’s guild which leads you to thinking of Din… It’s still a tough subject for you. It’s been over a year since you’ve last seen him; over a year since you last told him that it was the end for you two. Something that makes you think;

How could I be so stupid?

But you had your reasons. Being with a stoic bounty hunter who keeps his heart heavily guarded is no easy relationship to be in. He let Grogu into his heart and maybe you thought he could do the same for you. But it was all too much for him. After being alone for so long in his life, making room for two just wasn’t something he could do. And of course the kid needed him more than you did and you completely understood that. But there was nothing left for you. You tolerated it for as long as you could, because that’s all your relationship was towards the end, tolerance. You left before he could.

Might as well do this on my own terms, you thought at the time.

He’ll be so much better off without me. I bet he won’t even miss me.

You think about him often even though it’s painful. You think about nights on the Razor Crest together, feeling like a small family together, admiring how focused he gets when he’s on the look out for a bounty. You really did miss him, even though sometimes it felt like you weren’t even visible to him. It all hurts so much even after all this time.

Enough of that. It’s in the past. Over and done with.

You’re back on Nevarro after being off planet for a while. With Greek Karga being High Magistrate now, you’ve come back here looking for a job, something more permanent than being Din’s mechanic. And now that Nevarro has reinvented itself it’s not a bad place to live either.

You’re walking down the streets of Nevarro, heading to Greef’s building and that's when you see him walking in your direction. You could spot him from a mile away. That tall, looming figure, covered in beskar. You get butterflies in your stomach. Panicking, you turn and start walking the other direction, hoping that he won’t notice you.

And then you feel a gloved hand, grabbing you by the arm.

“Were you trying to avoid me?”

You panic even more, not knowing what to say. I mean, he’s right. You were trying to avoid him. You turn to face him and say,

“Yeah. I was.”

“Why? You’re the one that left me,” he says, getting right to the point.

“Can-can we not do this here?” you say, looking around the busy street. There were some people staring because of course they were. You and Din had become a recognizable pair for the people of Nevarro. And now that you two haven’t been seen together for a while, heads were turning at the sight of you.

“Follow me,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to wherever he wants to go.

You don’t say anything and neither does he. You’re so incredibly nervous about this.

What is going to say to me? He sounded kind of mad. But he is right though, I was the one to break up with him… But then again how could anyone blame me after how he treated me? And where is he taking me, anyway?

He leads you into the lava flats towards a ship you don’t recognize. What happened after you left him?

“What’s this?”

“My new ship,” he answers. “Got it from Peli.”

He lets go of your hand and faces you.

“It seems like a lot has happened since I last saw you. Where’s the kid?”

“With his own kind,” he says, offering nothing more.

“Well aren’t you going to give me more details?” you ask, putting your hand on your hip.

He sighs and then tells you everything. He tells you about the Crest being destroyed and Grogu being captured by Moff Gideon. He tells you about a Jedi coming to the rescue and taking Grogu with him. He tells you about the Darksaber and how he won it from Moff. He tells you about the ship he got from Peli; an N1 Naboo Starfighter. It was a lot. The whole time he’s telling you this your eyes are wide open and your jaw practically on the ground. And now you feel bad for him… He��s alone again.

“I’m sorry, Din… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for all of that.”

“It’s alright. I think if you had been with me through all of that, it would’ve made it harder. I would’ve had to worry about your safety, too.”

And that’s why I left you. You didn’t have the capacity to worry about me; to care about me.

“Yeah and that’s just it, Din. There wasn’t any room for me in your life. Don’t you understand how hard that was for me? I felt like a burden to you,” you retort, your voice raising slightly.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. The helmet just tilted down at you, reading the expression on your face. You’re sure your face is red with anger. Your hands were trembling.

And then he speaks with that raspy, modulated tone of his,

“That doesn't mean I didn’t miss you…”

You sigh because you feel the same way. You missed everything about him. You missed his scent, the feeling of the beskar on you when he held you, his voice, his protective nature, his interactions with the kid. Maker, you missed it all so much.

You take a step forward, closing the gap between you two. He follows your lead and wraps his arms around you. You rest your head against his chest and you two just stay there awhile, holding each other.

It isn’t until he snakes a hand down to your pants and cups your sex that you realize where this is going.

This is such a bad idea.

But it is what’s familiar. It’s not like you haven’t had sex since you left him. You’ve had your share of one night stands after a random guy at a cantina talks you up. But they don’t know you like Din does. They don’t know the way you like to be touched and pleasured.

“Right here?” you ask, pulling away and looking up at him.

“Why not? There’s no one around…”

You sigh and lean into him again, letting him continue. Your mind is telling you no; that you shouldn’t be doing this; that you’re just going to reopen old wounds. But your body is telling you yes; that you need this; that you missed him so much.

I’m not the first person to go back to their ex, you thought to yourself as he touched you.

He slips his gloved hands down your pants and begins rubbing small circles around your clit. Maker, was he good at that. It was rare that you ever got to experience his tongue so to say that he was talented with his hands would be an understatement.

You lean back on to the ship near the cockpit and spread your legs more, giving him access to slip a finger inside. And he does.

This is exhilarating for you. The sun is going down on Nevarro and you’re about to have sex with your ex against his new ship out in the open.

“You have no idea how much I needed this cyar’ika,” he moans into your ear, slipping another finger inside.

“Oh yeah? How much?”

“I thought about you all the time. I thought about your body and how much I missed it; how much I missed you.”

Hearing him say all of this tugs at your heart. You thought after you had left, he would’ve been perfectly fine, continuing his life as normal.

“Show me, then,” you say against his helmet.

He slides down your pants and grabs you by the thighs, lifting you on the ship a little more. He takes his cock out of his suit and slicks it with your juices from his hand.

He aligns himself with your entrance and starts thrusting in and out, his hands still holding your thighs up. He’s taking his time with you, his thrusts are methodically slow until you beg him, “Din, faster please.”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika,” he says, picking up the pace.

The angle of your body on the ship and Din holding your thighs in places is driving you nuts. The sensation of the cool metal ship on your back and the cool beskar between your thighs unlocks something within you, sending you closer to the edge. Din leans down so his torso is flush against yours, the T shaped visor practically burning a hole into you. It’s a mixture of intense pleasure but also nostalgia. He feels familiar to you but also so new too. So much has changed since you saw him last it’s almost like you’re fucking someone new. But you’re not. You’re fucking your ex on the planet where it all started.

He pulls back ever so slightly, just to slip his hand between you two and start rubbing your clit again. It sends you to the edge.

“Maker, I’m gonna cum,” you moan.

“Please baby. Please cum for me.”

And then you do. And it’s pure bliss. Your pussy is fluttering and pulsing around Din’s cock, sending shockwaves all throughout your body.

The sensation of you cumming must’ve been too much for Din because suddenly he pulls out of you and cums on your thigh.

He looks back at you and says, “I, uh, would’ve came inside but I wasn’t sure if you still had the implant…”

“I do, but that’s alright.”

He leans over you and reaches for the cockpit, grabbing a rag. He hands it to you and you tell him thanks, saying nothing more because… the feeling of regret is starting to sink in…

You just had sex with your ex. The one you left over a year ago because he wasn’t letting you in emotionally.

This is too much. This is all too much.

You slip down off the ship and quickly pull up your pants.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, grabbing your arm.

“This was a mistake.”

“Hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”

“We shouldn’t have done this, okay?”

“Did you not enjoy yourself?” he presses further.

You bring your palm up to your face, “Ugh. Well yes but that’s not what I’m getting at right now, Din. We’re exes. And we’re exes for a good reason.”

“I don’t understand. You don’t want to get back together?”

And he does?

You’re getting irritated now. “You can’t just come here with a new ship, tell me all about what happened since I left, fuck me and then expect me to come crawling back to you. I had my reasons for leaving and when I did leave you didn’t even put up a fight,” you snap at him.

“Cyar’ika… I’m sorry. I know, you deserved better.”

“Yeah, I did. And instead of realizing it sooner I stayed with you until I had finally had enough.”

He’s silent, helmet facing towards the ground.

“And all you did was tolerate me when we were together. You never appreciated my love. It felt pointless to put all of my time and energy into loving you and caring for you all for it to go to waste,” you say, your voice raising now.

He’s silent still. Just like the day you left him.

Of course he is. He didn’t fight for me then and he sure isn’t going to now.

“I just can’t do this anymore,” you say, feeling defeated.

You turn on your heel and start walking away, half hoping he’ll tell you to stop and come back. But he doesn’t. It feels exactly like the day you left him. Tears sting your eyes all the way back to the inn you’re staying at. You came to Nevarro to talk to Greef Karga about getting a job here but it’s certainly not the time for that now. The sun has set and you’re fully crying at this point. You just wanted to get back to where you were staying and take a shower, to wash him off of you.

You reach the inn and go inside the lobby, looking at the ground the whole time so no one can see your tear stained face. You power walk down the hallway until you get to your room, scan the key card and just collapse on the bed. The tears were flowing harder now. It’s hard to pinpoint what emotion you were feeling. It was a mixture of anger, sadness, longing, and almost a sense of betrayal. Betrayal in the sense that he can find you here, tell you what you want to hear so you’ll fuck him and then when the time comes for him to fight for you, he doesn’t.

You hop in the refresher and shower like you could wash away what happened. But you know you can’t. You step out, dry off and pull on your pajamas. You get in bed and try to forget about what happened today. But as you drift off to sleep you find yourself dreaming about what could’ve been…

End note: I was really close to giving them a happy ending but I didn't!🤭 Perhaps I'll do a part two where Din wins the reader over? Let me know your thoughts and send me any requests you have! Also, if you'd like to be part of my tag list, send me an ask or reply to this post!

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x female reader #mandalorian x you #no use of y/n #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x f!reader #mandalorian x f!reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mando smut #din djarin smut #pedrostories

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