#shockwave bobas

[tyrannosaurusrexxi]

He needs a bra for those things

@strugglingtoadult @piglet-artz

[digikha-thatransfomersguy]

Merry Christmas everyone!!

Have an amazing Christmas today!!

=]]]

Here’s ur gift from me

[singsangseung]

Inside out

It is yet again time for another chapter of my Valentine’s Day Lola’s with my Ju-baby @numberonejeonginstan! My Changbin  Stans gather round ( @straykeedz I am looking at You POOKIE!) this idea has been in my head for way too long and I  have procrastinated writing it until now (it’s 3:36 am LMAO0. Anywaysssssss enjoy!

!! ⚠️ warning!! AGELESS OR BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED AS WILL MINORS ⚠️!! MDNI! 18+!! 

Summary: yours and changbin’s sex life was anything but vanilla, so of course you’ve done food play…..but he’s never eaten it from inside of  you ( and your now vanilla flavored cunt)

Warnings: oral sex( fem!rec), fem!reader, use of whipped cream( both in and outside), dirty talk, unprotected sex(act surprised)pee afterwards! Also why even would you?), cream pie( again….why?), please properly take care of your nether regions…..get that whipped cream out of your coochie (would probs cause an UTI), coke can cock binnie, breeding kink, let me know if i missed any or if there are any typos :) 

This is purely a work of fiction and in no way does this represent Changbin as a person, thank you, toodles! 

~~MDNI 18+~~~MDNI 18+~~~MDNI 18+~~~MDNI 18+~~~MDNI 18+~~

Let’s take a quick rewind for a second okay?

As long as you and Changbin— aka Binnie, binkie, baby boo, pumpkin, snookums, muffin, doodles, the love of your life, sunshine, boba eyed baby— had ventured into exploring and trying things in the bedroom you had never had a boring or vanilla sex life. 

You had tried a lot of things. Pet play, bondage, him domming— you loved it, him subbing, anal, cum play, spitting, choking. You’ve tried it all. But, food play was a common favorite and you two often would go back to it.

But, everyone knows Changbin loves to eat and he’s damn good at it,too. He’s, especially, good at eating you out, however. Knowing how to use his tongue to circle your clit, sucking your labia between his lips, shaking his head when his tongue is inside of you in all of the most pleasurable ways. He’s made you have blindingly good, earth shattering orgasms in record time. 

Less than 3 minutes to be exact. He timed it himself, don’t ask why.

But, if you would like to know why, well changbin was curious as to how fast he could make you cum with just his mouth. Yes, just his mouth. “Binnie do you really need to time it?” you askes, because in your eyes  it seemed a little silly. Maybe, a lot a bit silly. “Yah, I want to. I want to know how long it takes for you to unravel on my tongue, bubby.” he grinned back at you. Well…..valid enough.

And soon thereafter, he had your thighs pressed to the bed, his face between your legs. “Start the timer, bub. Come on, now.” “bin-fuck- it just seems silly.’ you managed to choke out as you felt his lips suck against your throbbing bundle of nerves.  Damn, how was he soooo good at this? Shaking his head against your cunt, he smiled feeling the gushes of your nectar flood onto his tastebuds. “Fuck me. You have the sweetest little cunt baby,” he breathed out, coming up for air. “Bin, binnie fuck! Youre so good-hhhnngggggg” you cried out, hands making a fast purchase in his soft black curls. “Yeah? Binnie eats your yummy cunt so good?” changbin groaned into your cunt, sending shockwaves over vibrations and subsequent pleasure through your body.  

Nodding your head swiftly, you cried and felt your legs start to twitch as your hips started top cant up into his mouth. “Yes–hhhnnnng! Yes, fuck fuck fuck! Eat me so good, binnie!” You sobbed, feeling the all too familiar knot start to coil up in your stomach. “I-i’m getting close bin.” 

Wow, close already? He thought to himself in his head. He really must be good, because he hadn't even been eating you out for 5 minutes. 

Looking up at you through his eyelashes, he gave you a cheshire cat grin and snaked his tongue into the warmth of your cunt. “Ah! Fuck me, m almost there binnie! I’m gonna cum! Shaking his head vigorously against your cunt, he smiled and lapped up your juies as they only continued to pour out of you. “Yeah, binnie’s baby is going to cum?” he teased, as if he couldn't feel your pussy clenching around his tongue and your thighs twitching in his hands. 

“Yes–hng– yes! Im going to fucking cum, binnie!” You clenched your eyes shut and pulled his hair at the roots. Briefly, he pulled away from your cunt, only to let a dribble of a mix of your arousal and his spit fall onto your cunt. “Give it to me. Come on baby, give binnie a good one,” he smirked before diving right back in and giving a harsh suck to your clit. “Yesyesyes,” you blabbered as hot tears spilled from your eyes. 

Snap. the coil that was holding you to the world had snapped and you came–hard. White vision, you couldn’t hear, you were shaking like a leaf, your ears were ringing. “Yes, yes yes ! binnie! I’m cumming-oh fuuuuuuck!” your toes were curled to their fullest extent and you had a vice like grip on his hair as you came. Your sweet juices poured from your hole like water pours from a fountain. “There we go. That’s binnie’s good girl.” he crooned, sucking and slurping and drinking your cum up. “Fuck, so sweet baby. Could drink your sweet cum all day.”  he groaned, pulling back up and smashing your lips together. 

2 minutes 45 seconds and 34 nanoseconds

You loved it for various reasons. Being able to bring spice, literally, into the bedroom— or sweetness. Whether it was spraying and sucking whipped cream off his cock( one of your favorites), him spraying chocolate sauce on your cunt and licking it off before eating you out, making a lollipop molded from his cock that he would watch you suck on as if were his own cock—that’s a story for another day, or you licking caramel sauce off his chest and sucking it out of his belly bully like a shot glass. Not to mention Changbin sticking a lollipop in your cunt and licking off your nectar that was added and mixed with the lollipo’s strawberry flavor— he loved that one. It added, literal, flavor to the already debaucherous and sinful things going on on that bed.

However, Changbin had never eaten anything from inside of your pussy. 

And that brought you to your current position. 

It had all started earlier that night, after you finished dinner. “Yeobo, do you want dessert,” you asked your buff bunny boyfriend. “Sure, love bug, what’s on the menu?” He replied back, his tummy full from the meal you just shared. 

Looking through your fridge and freezer, you tilted your head, pretending to look for something— even though you had a plan this whole time. Pulling out the can of whipped cream that sat on the shelf, you shut the doors and turn to him. “Your favorite.” You giggled, tugging your lower lip between your teeth. 

“My favorite?” He was confused. He had a lot of favorites; your pussy, your tits, your ass, your lips,your cum, your spit. Food wise, he also had a lot of favorites, especially when it came to his dessert. Changbin loved Taiyaki, shaved ice, mochi, Felix’s brownies, again your cum. The list could  go on but your cum was always at the top, regardless. 

Perching up on his spot on the couch, he could see you holding a bottle of whipped cream. Oh. ….Oh. Standing from the couch, he strides towards you and braced his arms on either side of your frame thus locking you against the kitchen counter. “My favorite, huh, baby?” He breathed out, his plush lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. Nodding, you tilted your head to be able to capture his lips in a heated kiss. 

“Mhm, your favorite, binnie…….me,” you whispered, as his tongue slid into your mouth. “Oh? Is that so?” He gruffed out, biting your earlobe before pulling you in for a heated kiss. It was a conglomeration of spit swapping, your tongues fighting for dominance and shared moans. “Yea…..I’m your favorite treat to eat,” you whispered, his mouth swallowing the words.

Not only were you his favorite dessert; you were his favorite break, brunch, lunch,dinner, snack, midnight snack. Generally, you were just his favorite everything. Simply put. He could not, for the life of him or for your own sanity, get enough of you. Once Changin got a taste of you— even if it was the smallest taste— he couldn’t stop, not that he wanted to anyways.

 With his strong arms, in a split second he had you sit on the cool marble countertop. The coolness of the counter being a stark difference to the heat between your legs. What you, however, failed to realise was how Changbin grabbed the can of whipped cream and shook it. “Open wide baby,” he cooed, his index and middle finger holding your jaw and pressing your lips open. “Mmmmm, so yummy,” he chuckled sinisterly, pressing the nozzle and dispensing the cold sweet whipped cream into your mouth.

As soon as the whipped cream was in your mouth, his mouth came chasing, gripping the base of your neck and licking, feverishly, into your mouth. It was sweet, sticky, creamy mess. You had melted whipped cream and saiva smeared around your mouth as Changbin continued his hot licks and sucks. Fuck. So sweet, bunny.” He panted, using the back of his hand to wipe the whipped cream and saliva concoction from his mouth.

Pushing you down to lay on the counter,he hastily pulled your sweatpants and panties off. “But not as sweet as this title pink cunt,” he breathed out.  His eyes locked onto the sight of your wet glistening pussy. “You trust me right?” he asked. What? Why would he even ask that? It was a silly question, “right baby?” What a silly little question to ask and especially during sexy times. 

“With my whole heart binnie. Why?” You knew he was up to something. He always has some idea in his pretty head. Then you felt and heard it. The sound of the whipped cream spraying and filling your cunt. It was an odd sensation. You couldn’t decipher if it was good or bad, however. “Oh….oh what thee fuck? Binnie?” You gasped, the cold cream mixing with your warm wetness. “Sh, just trust your binnie,” he winked before shoving his face between your thighs.

 Oh what the fuck.  He put whipped cream inside your pussy. Before you could even register, his tongue his making its way around your labia. “Oh my fuck, binnie!” this was not what you were expecting, but it felt good nonetheless. Peeking up at you through his eyelashes, you could see the proud smirk on his beautiful face. “Fuck bin! Feels good!” you whined, it was a feeling you couldn’t verbally describe. It was somehow, almost, enhancing the feeling. 

Being able to feel how the whipped cream was becoming less cold and whipped as it melted in your pussy was interesting, to say the least. But……you liked it. And yes, you may have played with food in the bedroom before, but never in this way. It was good, better than you expected, to be honest. 

Swirling his tongue in your cunt, you could feel how he was tensing his tongue to be able to scoop the melted whipped cream out. “I- fuck! Changbin! Oh my fucking fuck!” you pressed your eyes shut, and arched your back off the countertop. “Yeah, honey girl?” he perched, slightly pulling away from your wet cunt to take a breath in.

Oh. oh the sight was filthy. His mouth was covered in a mix of your nectars and a mixture of melted whipped cream. It was hot, even though that whipped cream was not….not now at least. “I-i fuck me……it feels so good. Make me feel so good.” you breathed out, eyes slightly glossed over as you panted, your chest heaving. 

“I’m sure it does, baby. You taste so good, almost better than you always do. Although, nothing beats the raw taste of that sweet creamy cunt.” he smirked, biting his lips. “Have a taste baby,” he panted out, collecting a fair amount of the pussy juice and whipped cream mixture on his calloused finger and pushed it into your mouth. 

Woah, it was good, if you had to say so yourself. You’ve tried your own cum before and admittedly it was pretty good. Not that you would go out of your own way to just consume your cum. But, changbin on the other hand would. He had an almost unhealthy obsession with your cum, and you in general. 

“Back to the matter,honey,” he smiled, and dove right back into your pussy. Even more rapidly, he slurped, drank and licked all of your juices. “Bin! I-hhhhng! I’m close!” thank god, because his cock was hard as a rock in his sweats. “Give me a good one, baby. Give binnie a good one,” he grunted into your cunt, the words slightly muffled. 

Fucking his tongue into your cunt, he used one hand to hold your waist to the counter while the spare hand was reaching into his sweatpants to palm his own cock. “Come on baby, cum for binnie. Be binnie’s good bunny.”

His good bunny. Binnie’s good bunny.

That was all it took for you. Snap, crackle, pop. your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. “Yesyesyes binnie! I- hhhhhnnnngggg–i’m cumming! Fuck of my god!” snapping your eyes shut, gush after gush of your cum and whipped cream poured out of you. “Gooooood girl. Such a good bunny for binnie.” changbin praised you. Sucking the mix of your cum and whipped cream from your hole. “Such a sweet little cunt. My favorite fucking dessert evert,” he conceded, giving one last kiss to your clit before pulling away to shove his sweat pants down. 

“Fuck, bin. I need you in me, fuck, please.” he was going to give it to you good, and soon. “I know bunny,” he smiled, a chuckle falling from his cum–and whipped cream– covered lips. He loved seeing you so desperate and needy for him. It turned him on, knowing he did that to you. It was one of his favorite sights to see.

But, the sight of his fat dripping cock splitting the lips of your cunt open was near the top of his list. “Ssssh, bunny. I know. Binnie knows,” he consoled, seeing you opening your legs further to welcome his built and muscular body. Grasping his girth in his hand, he lined his ruddy fat cockhead with your hole. “You ready, bunny?” he teased, painting his cockhead up and down your cunt, from clit to your hole. 

What a fucking tease. Whining, you circled your thighs around his waist in effort to sink his cock into you. “Yes! Yes, i’m so ready! Want it so bad- fuck- so bad,binnie! Please please pl-”you begged, tears beginning to build in your eyes. Suddenly, his full girth was splitting you open–almost like a banana split. A binnie split,you could say. “Fuck, bunny. How are you still so fucking tight?” he groaned, stabilizing himself on his feet before slowly withdrawing his hips. “I fucked you this morning and you’re still so tight, bunny.”

It, really, was a great question. With how active your sex life is, you were still really tight, not that he was complaining. Your binnie would never, he loved how you sucked him in and held his cock with a vice grip. It was addicting.

Slowly, he pushed his cock back in and you positively mewled. “Hnnnng! Fuck, so full, binnie!” you wailed. His cock always made  you feel so full, like after a good meal. His cock was like a meal, for you. “Ye-yeah? Feel full of my cock, darling?” he groaned, slowly starting to build a rhythm of slow deep drags. “Uh huh! So full, feels so–hnnngggg– good!” You sobbed, arms extending to hold onto his shoulders. Dragging his hips against yours, he groaned and let his head fall forward,eyes closing in bliss. “You feel so good,bunny.” he grunted, blinking his eyes open. 

With his chin tucked to his chest, he could see just how well you were taking his thick cock. “Oh fuck, bunny. Taking binnie’s cock so well,” he lamented, seeing how your wet and creamy cunt was swallowing his cock. Your labia stretched around his girth. How had he never watched how your little cunt stretched around him? He would have to watch that more often, maybe even record it for when he’s away on tours. If you let him ,that is. 

“Uh huh. Binnie. So fu-fuck- so full.” you crooned, hitching your legs higher to slot in the creases of his elbows. “More, need more binnie, please,” you begged, leaning the back of your head on the counter as your hair splayed around you. “Fuck me, of course. Anything binnie’s bunny wants, she gets.” he panted out, picking up his pace. Not too fast but incredibly deep.

“I-hhhnnnnggg! Like that binnie! Fuck, fuck me like that!!” You wailed, tears spilled from your eyes as your nails dug into his muscular bulging shoulders. “Yeah, like that bunny? Feel me so deep like this,bunny?” yes, you could feel it so deeply, each vein and small stream of his precum. You could feel it all. It was overwhelming. 

“Ye-yes! Feel your cock so deep in me, binnie!” you whined, toes curling. Pressing his hips against your snugly, it felt like his cockhead was pressing against your cervix while also splitting you open and almost to your limits. His cock was just so thick, you could barely wrap your hand around it. “I know bunny. You just hug my cock so good with your little pussy. So warm and wet.” his scratchy voice creaked out. “Nee-need you to move binnie. Please, move.” the pants and begs and pleas spilled out like a water faucet. 

Nodding, he pulled back and pressed back into you. Thwack. You could hear the visceral and raunchy smack of his heavy cum filled balls smack against your ass. “Oh-oh! Fuck, again, do that again, binnie,” you pleaded as you could feel your walls start to close in on his girthy cock. “Like this, bunny,” he teased, rolling his hips into yours and grinded his pelvic bone against your clit. 

The grind of his trimmed curly black pubic hairs against your sensitive clit paired with the feel of his girthy cock splitting you open was blindingly good. “Uh huh! Hhhhnnnngggg! Ju-just like that,binnie!” Sobs and cried and wails tumbling from your raspy throat and out of your pink lips. “I’m getting close, binnie! Fuuuuck!” You cried, eyes rolling back. 

“I know, bunny. I can feel you gripping my cock so good. Gonna let me breed this pretty pussy?” He questioned, feeling his own orgasm building, the familiar coil building as the pressure was stacking in his lower abdomen. He was going to cum soon. But, he needed you to cross the finish line first.

“Fuck!Hnnngggg– of course! Yes yes! Slightly picking up the pace, his rhythm was slightly altering as he started to chase the feeling of his orgasm. “Come one bunny. Give me another one. I know you want to. be my good bunny. Binnie’s good little bunny to breed.” He grunted out, voice slightly worn and cracking. “Yeah. want to be binnie’s good bunny,” you pouted, as he reached to rub your clit and sped his pace.

Broken cries fell from your lips, the stimulation of his thick cock, his calloused finger rubbing your clit, him wanting to breed you. It was all too much, in the best way you could possibly imagine. “I-i’m close binnie!” his hips only faltered more as he was on the brink of his own orgasm. 

“Fuck– come on bunny,” he slightly begged, wanting to get you over the orgasmic bridge first. He always made you cum first. Now, that was his main goal. Driving his cock into your cunt deeply, he pressed frantic yet precise figures on  your clit. “I-fuck! Binnie! Almost there! Gonna gum for you binnie, gonna be your good bunny!” You cried, as the band snapped.

Rip, tear, visceral bliss. Your orgasm rammed into you and ripped your body to shreds. A pleasured yet pained scream tore from the depths of your soul as your cunt gripped his cnt tighter than it had before. “Fuuuuuuck! Ahhhh fuck! Cum-cumming cumming cumming!” You wailed, your voice hoarse and strained as you cried. Your head thrown back, he could see your body heaving as you choked on air as you came and his cock started twitching even with your walls gripping him so tightly..  “Oh my fuck, binnie!” you sobbed, your arms giving out, leaving you to fall onto the counter under you and your legs shook like autumn leaves. 

That was all it took for Changbin. With one final push, he pressed is hips against yours the farthest he could and threw his head back. With his vision going white and his ears rang, he let out an animalistic primal groan out. “Fuuuuuuck, bunny. Gonna breed your cunt, squeezing me like a fucking vice.” He seethed, reeling his cock twitching as the numerous roped and spurts and gushes of his cum emptied from his heavy balls. He didn’t have to look to know or see that he came a lot. “Fuuuuuck,uuuuugggghhhhh, bunny. Take my cum.” the words flew from his lips as he stilled inside you. And take his cum you would. You did every time. 

“fill me, binnie! Breed me!” You begged, feeling your womb fill with his cum. Blinking himself into reality, he saw how much he and you came. There was a thick ring of your mixed cum at the thick base of his cock and it was dripping onto your kitchen counter. Fuck, you were in the kitchen and there was windows.

Rapidly, he snapped his head to the windows above your sink. Mortified, he made eye contact with your neighbor. The poor lady had seen you two. Now , you didn’t know how long she had been there. But she got a good show and for free. But, he knew he couldn;t tell you that you two had been caught in the act.

Shielding your body from other peoples’ eyes, he laid over your shaking frame. But, damn, that felt so good. Delicately, he pulled his cock from your cunt and it only spilled out even more. Fuck. there was a lot of cum. A decent puddle of it forming on the counter, as you laid panting. “That was….so good,binnie.” You tiredly giggled. 

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your lips and used a washcloth to wipe up your mess. No longer was it white from whipped cream but his cum. Would he be able to taste the vanilla of the whipped cream at all? Curiously, he collected a bit on his finger and sucked it into his mouth. 

Hm. it was mostly yours and his cum. But, there was the faintest taste of vanilla whipped cream. He liked it.

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[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Worlds Collide - Ch1 The Joker and the Thief. A Mando x F/AFAB!Reader Fic

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given. Warnings: Sex Work, Sexual Assault (Implied), Injury Detail, PTSD, Trauma, gore, swearing, sexual tension, angst, lots of angst, Drug use, Drug abuse, withdrawals, pain. My blog, and this story is 18+ MDNI

Summary: You’re trying to lie low after a terrible job, ridden with withdrawals, hating the lengths you had to take to get here, then he strides in. The last person in the ‘verse you wanted to see.

Author’s Notes: This might be a one off, it might be a series, but I decided I wanted to do better than my first Mando fic, I think this is what I want, and I know it’ll be good. (Positive thinking aha).

Master List | Next Chapter ->

Chapter 1 – The Joker and the Thief

The gloom of the scummy cantina was the perfect place to hide, to keep your head down, especially when you were itching from the Spice withdrawals and were too drunk to react properly to any threats the seedy depths of Nah Shaddaa is notorious for. Your last job had you posing as a Spice junkie as you tracked down one of the last of the Pyke Syndicate for Boba Fett and his associate Fennec Shand.

The job had gone well, all things considered, and a week spent in Boba’s Bacta Tank had stopped you losing your left arm but nothing could be done about the crippling withdrawals that rocked through you now. The sound of metal clashing on metal, like jarring wind chimes teetered on the edge of your perception but you couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than a few seconds.

I need to get out of here.

You think to yourself as you try and force yourself up but the weight of your body was just too much, you light a Deathstick, drawing the chemical burn down into your lungs for a small, almost pointless moment of relief. The spice was just too deeply rooted in you still.

A modulated voice cuts through your erratic thought process as you snap your eyes up from the glass of Spotchka. The dim, crimson light illuminated the Mandalorian with a warped, ethereal glow and you sigh, realising it was the end of the road, even Fett couldn’t help you when it came to the Mandalorians.

“Come with me.” He demands but you pour another glass of Spotchka defiantly, meeting his visor with a sneer.

Would certainly have been nice if he’d warned me I’d have Mandos on my tail.

You grimace as a shockwave of pain shakes your bones like they’re made of shattered glass. The Mandalorian tilts his head as if pondering something philosophical as he looks at you. A small pod whirs into view to his left, a tiny little green kid with big ears and large, dark eyes looking around in awe.

“What do you want tin can?” You say imapatiently as you feel for the blaster in your lap, you know you won’t get out of this alive, but you wouldn’t go out without a fight. That wasn’t your style, no matter how washed up you felt.

“Just wanted to see if you needed some company, kid wouldn’t take no for an answer when I told him you were trouble, so I caved, call me soft, but he’s got good intuition.” His rumbling voice sounded almost sincere through his modulator but he didn’t sit, giving you the choice as the kid in the transport pod gurgled at you happily.

“Alright, but I won’t be good company, sorry kid.” You apologise to the babbling child directly as you snuff out the Deathstick.

“He’s used to poor company,” The Mandalorian says with a slight lift in his intonation and you could swear he had cracked a joke, “Besides,” His voice is lower as he slides into the booth to your left, too close for your liking but his hand is already on the blaster in your lap, “You need my help.” The oppressive mass of his armoured form had you pressed against the cantina wall. You hiss but he clearly chooses to ignore your protest.

Fear shoots through your veins like ice, thankfully taking a little edge off your withdrawals but not enough to fully quell the ache in your skull. He had disarmed you in seconds, your pistol on the table, your boot knife along with it. You don’t know how he got your knife, it had been strapped to your right leg which was now pressed against the wall but there it was. Mocking you on the table.

“How did you-?” You breathe until you notice the kid looking at you with what looked like a triumphant grin, his little hand flexing slowly as he settles back into his transport.

Force Sensitive? Surely not a Jedi? Sith?

“Spice hasn’t completely rotted your brain then.” The Mandalorian says with a nod, his visor turned to you once more, “How long you been using?”

“Not long, but any Spice is too much, fucking stuff.” You babble on, inhibitions evaporated as you try and wrap your head around the bizarre situation. The kid keeps studying you with eyes that sparkle with a sense of wisdom well beyond his years. Or so far as you could guess, the little man seemed ageless.

“You’re not in the best place to be tackling withdrawals, how about I take you to my ship, let you cool off there?” The Mandalorian suggests and you laugh, maybe a little too loudly, as some of the patrons close to your table turn to look at you.

“Fuck you, I’d be in carbonite before I could so much as blink, get lost.” You scoff as you go to pour the last of the spotchka from the bottle but the Mandalorian’s gauntleted hand snatches yours, tugging you to face him.

“You’re testing my patience. You’ve got at least four bounty hunters in here with contracts to take you in cold. There’s no reward for bringing you in alive, you hear me? I’m here because Fennec reached out, she’s worried about you.”

“What does she care?” You scoff but your bravado is quickly waning as you look up through your lashes. The amount of quick, attentive glances your way makes you feel sick.

Shit, he’s not lying, this isn’t good.

“I don’t know, don’t care, just been tasked with getting you somewhere safe to lie low until you’re off the Spice.”

“I’m not on Spice.” You hiss, even though you knew what he meant, your pride was hurt, and you were acutely aware of how vulnerable you were, which only wounded your ego further.

“I’m not here to argue with you, get up, we’re leaving.” The Mandalorian’s hand grips your wrist tighter as he yanks you up, stowing your blaster and knife in the kid’s transport as he drags you out of the bar.

“Hey, cut it out, you’re hurting me!” You hiss as he yanks your left arm. Flashes of the blast door clamping down on your shoulder rock you and the fight or flight erupts like a flash of phosphorus as it cuts through the withdrawals like a blaster bolt. Adrenaline sears through you as you slip under the Mandalorian’s arm, twisting his arm far enough you hear the Beskar strain from the torsion before you unconsciously punch a brutal uppercut to his chin. The helmet snaps back and you hear the deep growl through the modulator of his helmet, you take your chance and run. Your hand is obliterated, fingers limp and bloody as you curse your rash, instinct driven outburst. You should know better, but adrenaline is one hell of a drug.

At least it doesn’t hurt yet.

You think as you crash through the denizens of Nar Shaddaa in the overcrowded streets of the brothel quarter. The smog fills your lungs as you curse not keeping your respirator on your neck, you’d taken it off at the cantina because it was irritating your clammy skin. But you press on, no plan, no sense of time, as you ride the last reserves of adrenaline to put as much distance between you and the dive bar.

The neon lights and furious din of the nightlife of Nar Shaddaa had your stamina waning faster than you anticipated. You were deep in the drug dens, and seedier sex trade quarter now, somewhere you should be able to get lost in and escape detection. The sickly fragrance of Spice is on the air and you freeze. The urge to follow it, to alleviate the dry mouth, pounding headache, sore bones, was almost too much. But you resist, ducking into a Twi’lek brothel and scurry up to the service droid on reception.

“I need a girl until morning, someone up market.” You say in a hushed voice, not wanting to draw attention to yourself as lecherous eyes rake over you from every corner of the sample room. Twi’lek dancers of varying gender expressions danced for patrons on poles, laps, and everywhere in between.

“We have Teer’aa, she’s a thousand credits for the night.” The droid responds and you don’t hesitate to hand over the credits, you bring up your wrist mounted datapad and the number for the room and the code flashes in neon red against the black screen.

“Thanks, have a good night pal.” You grunt to the droid and you laugh at the lack of understanding. You’d always been nice to droids, you didn’t really know why, but you weren’t about to break decades of good manners.

You rap your good hand on the door and call in to Teer’aa before you key in the code. The door opens with a sharp hiss and you flinch involuntarily at the sound, your shoulder tingling as you cross the threshold. The deep purple lighting did much to hide the stains, decay, and general unsavouriness of the room but it couldn’t dampen the feeling of unease you had in places like this.

There has been so much pain, violence, and death in this room.

You think to yourself as that sickeningly familiar feeling washes over you. Your mother had said it was a gift, but you had only ever found it to be a curse.

“Evening beautiful, what can I do for you?” Teer’aa’s silken voice washes away some of the darkness in your mind as you look up from your boots, your breath hitches in your throat as you see how beautiful she is. Her Lekku are adorned with silver rings and chains, rising to meet a beautiful gem-studded tiara that rests just above her brow. Her skin is a pearlescent purple dappled with pink stripes.

“Honestly, I’m just here to sleep and try and fix my hand.” You breathe, the sheer silk robes left nothing to the imagination as you feel arousal stir at the base of your spine.

“You sure baby? I could help you do that, and a whole lot more.” She purrs and you can’t help but laugh nervously at yourself. She’s in your personal space now, towering over you just slightly as you take in the floral perfume and oils that anoint her skin. You want to let her take care of you, cuddle you, make you scream obscenities into the void.

“As much as I’d love that, I’d much rather you just have a relaxed night, do your nails, hell, do mine if you want, but I’m going to clean up, on my own.” You say softly as you pitch up onto your tiptoes to place a soft, less than chase, kiss on her cheek.

“So this isn’t Big Si’ean pulling a sting to see if I’m slacking?” Her voice changes, the affected sultry tone fading as her shoulders relax, her eyes still fiercely boring into you as she tries to decide whether to trust you or not.

“I don’t even know who that is, please, just let me tend to my wounds, wash up, and sleep.” You plead and a softness overcomes Teer’aa’s face and she puts her hands on your waist.

“May I pick you up?” She asks, her tone sisterly, caring.

“No funny business?” You test, eyebrow cocked as she applies gentle pressure with her firm hands.

“I swear.” She says solemnly and as you nod you feel the world lurch from under you as she hoists you up and cradles you in her arms like a baby, your left side pressed against her ample bosom as she carries you to the bed. She sets you down against the pillows and you let yourself relax a little, eyes flicking to the door, making sure the door lock light stays red.

“Now, I’m going to draw you a bath, get yourself comfortable and I’ll take a look at your hand too.”

You nod and watch as she dons a thick robe, sliding her feet into some slippers as she hums a tune you don’t recognise. You close your eyes for a moment, fatigue seeping into your bones as you try to keep yourself awake but it’s futile, in seconds you’re asleep, dead to the world.

*

Before you know it you’re being roused awake by a pair of firm hands. You feel a smile pull at your lips as you mumble Teer’aa’s name softly.

“Sorry, I couldn’t stop him.” Teer’aa’s voice wavers as your eyes snap open. A large, Devaronian man’s hands are on you, your eyes go wide in fear and you try to thrash out of his grip but your hands are in binders, your feet too. You’re helpless on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Your right hand throbs, you realise you must not have been asleep for long as you can still hear the flow of water from the Refresher. Teer’aa is cowering on the bed. You can smell blood and your empty stomach rolls as you try and gather your wits. The longing for Spice claws at you as you try to focus, but the pain, the withdrawals and the knowledge that you could just snuff it all out overwhelms you for a moment.

“Going to have some fun with this girlie, seeing as you weren’t going to show her a good time, I might as well take what you paid for.” The Devaronian sneers as he releases you, already on the bed when you hear Teer’aa’s screams followed by the sound of flesh striking flesh. You see red but all you can do is writhe in your bindings.

Idiot, you got her into this, selfish, selfish, selfish.

You chew yourself out as you try and get to your knees but the Devaronian spots you, his boot collides with the side of your face and you cry out, you hit the floor once more and try not to cry. You hear the subtle clink of metal on metal, no. You feel it, a pure, peeling sound of hope as you feel something, someone approaching.

The door light turns green as you watch in bewildered fascination as the silver-clad bounty hunter strides through the door blaster pointed at the side of the Devaronian’s head. The single shot burns your eyes as you watch the red-skinned assailant fall limp, dead, on the bed. Teer’aa doesn’t move, curling further into a ball defensively.

“Move.” The Mandalorian commands, but then he notices your bloody face, binders, and the fact that your left eye was almost completely swollen shut, “Hell, alright let’s get you out of those.” His tone changes, you can hear it soften through the distortion of the modulator. He frees you from your bindings and helps you up.

“Teer’aa, I’m so sorry.” You whimper but she stays where she is, not moving but for the small tremors that rock her body as she sobs.

“Just leave.” She whimpers and you do as you’re told, not by the silver-clad bounty hunter, but by the woman you had put in harms way. Guilt racks you as you allow the bounty hunter to escort you through the dirty side streets of the pirate moon. You notice his little green friend isn’t with him but you’re too tired to quip at him, too drained to care. He ushers you to the nearest spaceport where a hangar is waiting for him, a Gauntlet class Starfighter docked within.

“Come on, we need to get those looked at.” He gestures to your injuries and you just nod, climbing the now deployed ramp up into the hull of the ship. The ship smelled new, untouched, you shrug off the thought as you hear the hiss of the ramp closing behind you.

The Mandalorian, to your surprise, leaves you in the hull, heading into the next chamber, which you guess is the cockpit. You stand awkwardly, the smell of your own blood, sweat and general filth of Nar Shaddaa clinging to you like a film. The ship shudders and pitches beneath you as the Mandalorian takes off into orbit. After a while you hear the whine of hyperdrive before the Mandalorian and the kid appear in the doorway.

“You been standing there the whole time?” The Mandalorian asks as the kid waddles towards you, stopping just short of your boots, he looks up at you with wide eyes before making an impatient noise, holding his hands up in the air.

Up!

Is the clear command and you shake your head at the little green kid, wrapped up in a soft furry coat. He grumbles at you and waddles over to the corner of the cargo hold before sitting down with a huff, the indignance is clear even if he couldn’t convey it with words. The hiss of a compartment being unlocked catches your attention and you watch as the Mandalorian pulls out a med kit.

“Come on, this way.” He orders and you follow him through to the cockpit, he gestures with a nod of his head towards a bench to the right and you obey. The kid waddles in behind, giving you the meanest stink eye a cute little thing like him could muster.

“Kid, it’s nothing personal, I’m just not someone you want to get close to yeah?” You say as kindly as your hoarse voice allows. The kid’s face softens a little and you feel warmth in your chest, as if you could feel him consoling you quietly.

“So,” The Mandalorian sighs, kneeling in front of you placing the med kit to your right, “Why’d you run?” He asks, his tone flat, almost disinterested, as if he needed to fill the quiet of the cockpit while he worked.

“On Coruscant, I almost lost my arm, got caught in a blast door, the force on my shoulder…” You trail off, subconsciously rolling your shoulder as the Beskar clad hulk in front of you administered two shots in short succession to your upper thigh. The brush of his gloved hand on your skin makes you shudder, but you aren’t embarrassed as he shifts your clothes out of the way, no, you’ve been naked in front of people patching you up before, Fett and Shand included. The shudder emanates from your spine, straight to your core.

“That’s heavy,” He winces at the unintentional pun but continues, “How long ago?”

“Eight days,” You pause and check the data pad on your left wrist, “Seven hours, and fifty-three minutes ago.” You say without emotion, the tally is something you can’t let go of. It burns in your mind, just like the phantom pain burns in your joints, buried deep in the sinew of your triceps and biceps.

“Maker.” The Mandalorian pauses his visor tilting to meet your eyes and his right hand falls to your left knee, covering your smaller hand in his as he maintains eye contact for longer than you are comfortable with. You might not be able to see his eyes but the intensity in the action was there, searing through you. You look away abruptly, staring at the blinking lights that spanned the walls of the helm.

“Is what it is, you should know, risks like that are par for the course in our profession right?” You say with a dismissive air, building up your walls as always when someone gets too close. The kid waddles up to the pair of you, clinging to the Mandalorian’s thigh, a habit formed through seeking-comfort you guess.

“So you’re with the Guild or you freelance?” He asks as he rubs the kid’s ear, who coos softly at the action before gurgling at his Beskar-clad guardian. There’s some unintelligible communication between them and the Mandalorian nods once before turning his helmet back to you.

“Freelance, mostly for Daimyo Fett.” You admit, your connection to Shand would have said enough for him, but the need to fill the silence was clear.

“Kid’s going to fix your hand, try to stay calm, he needs to concentrate.” He orders and you just nod, bemused at the concept.

What can this little womp rat do that a Mandalorian can’t?

You ask yourself but you watch the little guy intently as he waddles up to your outstretched hand. His little brow furrows and his eyes slowly close as he takes your hand in both of his tiny clawed ones. You smirk down at him like a kid showing you a new toy. Then, the sensation hits you like a swarm of buzzing insects, their wings beating furiously at your bloodied fingertips. You try and flinch away but the Mandalorian’s hand snakes around your wrist, gently this time as he steadies you.

“You need to stay still.” He breathes, tension straining his voice. His thumb rubs absently over the exposed skin of your wrist and you settle, watching in horrified awe as your fingers snap back into place, broken skin and tissue weaving back together under a misty golden light that flowed from the kid’s hands. As the final few cells vibrate back into place you watch the kid topple backwards in exhaustion. The bounty hunter releases you wrist to catch the kid in his open palms.

You flex your hand a few times, turning it over in disbelief as the pain abates in seconds.

“That’s some cool space wizard magic there kid.” You say but realise he’s already fast asleep. An awkward silence filters through the recycled air and you realise that you aren’t being restrained, there’s just you, a stoic bounty hunter, and a child fast asleep in his arms.

The Mandalorian wordlessly stands and takes the kid to a small alcove near the back of the cockpit. You watch as he tucks the kid into a shelf-turned-bed, a small frog-shaped toy gripped in the little one’s claws.

“So where we going?” You ask, standing up as you stretch and bend some of the tension out of your shoulders.

“I’ve got a place on Nevarro, I’ll be away most of the time, but no-one will bother you there.” He says as he settles down into the pilot’s seat, kicking his feet up onto the top of the dash as he tucks his chin down against his chest, a small clink of Beskar on Beskar echoes through the helm.

“You got a Refresher on the ship?” You ask as the stench of your sweat, blood, and the lingering scent of Spice catches up to you.

“First door on the left in the cargo hold, there are bunks out there if you prefer that kind of thing.”

“Noted, and hey,” You offer your name to him.

“Din.” He responds curtly. You smile at the exchange of names and head out into the Fresher, you take a long, hot shower, using the soaps and hair products that were clearly Din’s and think nothing of it, revelling in the spicy scent of pepper and something herbal. As you exit the fresher you see the bunks have already been pulled from the wall, Din had put a neatly folded pile of grey shirts and loose trousers that tie at the waist.

You crawl into the bottom bunk, spreading out the neatly folded sheets and pillow before grabbing the set from the top bunk. You curl up into a nest of military style blankets and a pillow between your knees. You sleep for what feels like days, only waking as you feel the desperate urge to relieve yourself.

You stumble to the Fresher and practically throw yourself on the toilet, you sigh softly as you do what’s needed. You finish up and as you open the door you see him, still fully armoured, hand hovering over the door control.

“Sorry, it’s all yours.” You mumble meekly as you try to duck under his arm but you stumble in the low light of the cargo bay, your night vision blown by the sudden light from the Fresher. You feel a strong arm around your waist, the dig of armour in the tender flesh of your belly jarring.

Then you smell it, the metallic tang of Beskar, the oil he uses to maintain it, then the peppery herbal smell, laced with a distinct, warm musk that settles over you like a haze. You try not make it obvious but your pussy clenches around nothing at the smell, and the possessive grip around your middle.

“Careful there,” He whispers your name so quietly you think you imagine it, yet, the soft husk to his voice is very real.  You don’t resist as he shifts his grip as he sets you down, both hands on your hips as you feel your heart flutter in your chest at the contact. The thin clothing betrays the thickness of his fingers, the flat press of his palms firmly against the meat of your thighs, “Might get hurt.” He mumbles and releases you.

You stumble back into bed, mind racing at the thrill at his touch, the husky desire in his voice as he said your name. If you had any energy left you were sure you’d have finger-fucked the need out of your system over and over until you couldn’t breathe.

But you don’t get the chance, the scent of Din fills your senses as you realise the whole bed smells like him, minus the delightful musk of him, and the somewhat pleasant tangy of Beskar, but it was close enough. You palm your breasts absently as you feel yourself drifting off. You may not feel safe, but you knew the danger was behind you, well, mostly.

AN: I hope you enjoyed this and look forward to the next instalment! Reblogs/comments/likes/kudos always appreciated! 

[igotyouknow]

In a vast and interconnected universe, where worlds collided and heroes clashed, an unexpected love story began to unfold. The mighty Doom Slayer, feared by demons and revered by humans, found himself inexplicably drawn to the enigmatic bounty hunter, Boba Fett, from the Star Wars galaxy.

Their paths crossed amidst the chaos of a battle-scarred planet, where both warriors fought side by side against a common enemy. Their shared prowess on the battlefield created a powerful bond, one that transcended their differences and sparked a flame of desire.

As their relationship blossomed, another legendary hero entered the scene. Master Chief, the stoic and battle-hardened Spartan from the Halo universe, had long admired the Doom Slayer's unwavering determination. However, upon witnessing the undeniable chemistry between Doom Slayer and Boba Fett, a love triangle emerged.

Torn between loyalty and newfound affection, Doom Slayer found himself torn between two worlds. Boba Fett's charisma and Master Chief's unwavering dedication both captured his heart in unique ways. However, amidst this emotional turmoil, an unexpected betrayal loomed on the horizon.

Snake, the legendary operative from the Metal Gear Solid series, had secretly watched the events unfold. Driven by his own agenda and harboring a long-standing grudge against the Doom Slayer, he saw an opportunity to disrupt the blossoming romance. Snake's betrayal sent shockwaves through the lovers' alliance, testing their trust and resolve.

Yet, amidst the chaos and heartache, love persevered. Doom Slayer, Boba Fett, and Master Chief found solace in each other's arms, forging an unbreakable bond that withstood even the greatest trials. Together, they faced the challenges thrown their way, fighting not just for survival but for the love that had grown between them.

In the end, love conquered all. The Doom Slayer, Boba Fett, and Master Chief stood united, defying the odds and proving that love knows no bounds, not even across different realms of existence. Their love story became a legend, whispered throughout the galaxies, inspiring others to embrace the power of love and connection in the face of adversity.

This was an idea I had and ChatGPT executed 😻😻😻

And so, their intertwined destinies continued, bound by a love that transcended dimensions, leaving an indelible mark on the annals of heroic tales.

@gregorsmissingarmor

[yeehaka]

𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓, unfurling the crush of indigo from the starlit field. off-shore winds perfumed by the salty tang of the pacific mingled with the ancient aromatics growing abundant on the island. lowing from nublar's verdant heart sang to the fading scatter of stars. the sauropods – a herd of the long-bodied apatosaurus and their towering cousins – beckoned the sun still slumbering before the horizon. an ancient tune that was not only heard but felt, deep in the hollow chambers of bone. few humans were conscious enough at this hour to bask in the primordial choir; but there was one who was already prepared to fight the coming day by the giants began their tune.

      the sky was still drenched purple when boba fett traded the sleepy inside of his houseboat for brisk open atmosphere of a jeep. he kept his abode docked on the northern face of the island, mt. sibo and a broad swath of jungle between his privacy and the rest of the park. it’d been one of his father’s favorite spots. so much so, that jango built a stilted bungalow nearby after boba inherited his childhood home.

      distance came at a price, one fett gladly paid every morning when he swung himself and his antiquated thermos behind the wheel of his unmarked jeep. the long winded drive to the opposite end of the island was more than a mere commute, it served as the contractor’s initial round across his territory. checking in on the health of his charges and spot any troubles that populated the landscape overnight.

      no radio accompanied fett on his winding journey through the jungle. he listened to the soundtrack of the island while soaking up the deceptive simplicity of his surroundings. there was endless wonder in driving by a contemporary traveler’s palm and pitanga on either side of a squat cycad, seventy-three million years out of place. little anomalies like that, impossible anywhere beyond ingen’s property line, were the poster child of nublar’s idiosyncratic ecology.

      time was at an impasse. while mankind might be pressured by schedules and dates, its passage went unmarked in the wilderness made for their enjoyment. nature’s commandments were confined to the world beyond the sea. here, archosaurs roamed the soil that once buried them. their avian descendants, once the primary fauna of the five deaths, cohabitated with their de-extinct kin. primeval laws that governed the boundaries of life and death need not apply.

      tight webs of canopy cracked open as boba’s jeep jostled over the treeline and into the rolling hills of the valley. axels squeaked as he tipped and dove the off-road slopes. tires kicked up dew-coated grass, scenting the air with a crisp, watery sweetness. the lid of the sun spilled further into the heavens, washing away the residual midnight with the colors of tropical milkweed.

      the unmarked jeep’s brakes ambled to a halt on the summit of a hillock. it fed into a gradual slope that flattened into an emerald savannah. boba hung out the side of his vehicle, an arm looped around the open-air frame. dark eyes squinted into the sunrise, rays of orange bathing him in the first pinpricks of daytime heat.

      at the bottom of the slope, lumbering towards the sparkling waters of a manmade lake, were the singers of the crepuscular opera. giant grey bodies, individualized by markings of navy and flushed mauve, pressed towards the sparkling waters. apatosaurus bellows were deep bodied gurgles like peaceful thunder. the brachiosaurus were more enigmatic with their terrestrial whalesong.

      boba spotted a brachi subadult sprinting towards the shore. on her rotunda legs, it was more of a majestic waddle, but for a beast her size it was enough to send shockwaves through the mantle. she splashed wholeheartedly into the lake, sending curtains of freshwater flailing to the sides. a pride of parasaurolophus balked, scampering away to avoid the aftermath of her joy. the subadult reared back on her haunches and sang to them, no doubt teasing her much smaller neighbors.

      nearly every population that frequented the lake this hour was accounted for except one. the itch of murphy’s law crawled up boba’s chest, but his concerns were quickly put to rest. fett heard their drumming before he saw them. gallimimus, their gracile legs a blur, poured through the natural alley parallel to his perch. he counted them off in batches. exact numbers were impossible, but his instincts were never wrong when it came to how many of the ornithomimids there should be. during the last stormy season, the population took a hit. lightning strikes claimed three juveniles in the ensuing panic. heavy rains loosened the soil, leaving a sad tale of broken legs and necks for seven of the fragile beasts. with the herd in recovery, boba’s already scrupulous paranoia twice as attentive.

      a mischievous honk drew his attention away from the watering hole to a pack of bipeds several meters from his jeep. a small group of juvenile gallimimus broke off from herd to romp the grasslands without adult fussing. they were on their way back to rejoin their elders, but one had taken an interest in fett's jeep. she was bold in her proximity, keeping the side of her face locked on his position as she plucked at a rear tire with her beak.

      fett recognized her. what the ingen white coats called her, he had yet to learn. disposition was moniker enough. she wasn't as skittish as her sisters despite growing at a slower rate. he'd call her pluckiness a napoleon complex, but there was an unmistakable sweetness to her nosy larks. she was the first to spot humans approaching and the last to be shooed away. each morning, she spied on fett from the safety of her flock. it seemed today she decided to take advantage of the distance between her curiosity and the pernickety adults.

      ❝ hey! ❞ the man barked. the gallimimus bleated, taking several steps back. she kept a giant eye on fett as she circled around, stopping several feet in front of him. her head twitched like a birds as she considered him, as if daring the lone primate to challenge her again.

      ❝ you pop it and i’ll use your hide to patch it. ❞ the herbivorous theropod continued to angle her narrow face, opening and closing her beak with soft clicks.

      she wasn’t impressed.

      with a thin lipped smirk, boba maintained eye contact as he reached for the horn. she squeaked, startled by the shrill sound, and sped towards her siblings. she paused midway to glance back at him before disappearing into her crowd.

      the remainder of his patrol was mercifully routine. the park’s biomes were in good health, temperaments lackadaisical as dawn sipped its way through the sky. a group of styracosaurus foraged beside the service road. clods of dirt hung from the front of their nasal horns as they scrapped the topsoil for earthen delights beneath. further down was nublar’s largest river. in less than a handful of hours, the waterway would fill with the clap of paddles fighting the current as human voices chattered excitedly. for now it was a trickling melody, soft but keen enough to be heard over the rumble of his jeep’s torque. invisible fencing made the river’s carnivorous residents excellent neighbors.

      lush banks were deceptively empty. the large piscivores, having caught their morning meals in the half-light, had retreated to shady undergrowth where they committed to the difficult task of lazing in the sun.

      a baryonyx lounged on the edge of her perimeter. forearms tucked against her chest, the spinosaurid had her long narrow snout, so reminiscent of her crocodile contemporaries, thrown back to exposing her scaly neck to solar rays. her sealed lids didn’t flinch as the jeep wrangler puttered across her trajectory. the simian and his fossil guzzling steed were unremarkable to such a content creature.

      main street was still rousing from its late night festivities when boba arrived at the backstage lot. fresh coffee grinds, industrial cleaners, and warming grills filtered over the high walls that separated guests from the park’s inner workings. a pungent concoction that sunk to the back of the throat and need to be scoured away by a slug of piping caffeine.

      thick rubber soles worn by countless hours on the move only just touched asphalt when fett heard his name from across the empty lot. he replaced the drained cap of his thermos with a reluctant twist as poe dameron half-jogged from a sidedoor.

      ❝ can’t imagine what business you have with me, dameron. ❞

      poe was undeterred by the deadpan greeting, ❝ good morning to you too. so, ❞ the experience manager clapped his hands together, ❝ i need a favor. ❞

      ❝ i’m busy. ❞

      ❝ aren’t we all, ❞ poe’s eyes dropped to the thermos. his expression puckered into pity, ❝ fett, what are you gonna let that thing go. look at it, it’s older than you and me. combined. don’t you have a collection of company tumblers like the rest of us? ❞

      ❝ i give them back. this works just fine. ❞

      ❝ fett, c’mon, you’re drinking lockjaw. how ‘bout i give you one of mine? you know, for helping me out. or i’ll do you one better: i’ll get you that new one they just got in at jurassic traders. looks like something spat out of an army surplus. real camp, straight from the ‘90s. right up your alley. ❞

      silence permeated. dameron sucked in his lips, waiting for at least something snide to breach the straight line of boba’s expression. nothing forthcoming, dameron mouthed a deferring okay and continued on.

      ❝ anyway, dillon, my, uh, new favorite trainee that i’m so glad claire gave to me, was supposed to help rey this morning. he, well, couldn’t make it. ❞ dameron ran his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted. ❝ kid took a sino to the family jewels yesterday and hasn’t been without an ice pack since. ❞

      ❝ and? your girl can handle younglings. ❞

      ❝ well, yeah, ❞ dameron agreed, twirling a hand, ❝ but the wannabe littlefoot has been going through this temper tantrum phase. one parasaur keeps yacking up breakfast. the aforementioned ceratops will not stop trying to punt people. and yesterday, little johnny got bucked into next sunday. his mom, not thrilled. lawyers were mentioned. i’d really, really, really like to avoid that today. ❞

      boba didn’t even blink.

      ❝ want me to beg? i’ll beg. in fact, i’ll get on my knees. make a whole damn scene. till everyone in the office has their nose to the windows. you want that, fett? some drama to go with your instant tetanus? ❞

      poe started to descend, not breaking eye contact with the other man.

      ❝ dameron. ❞ boba warned. poe immediately sprung back and clapped his colleague on the back.

      ❝ good man! ❞ the manager abruptly sped back to the door he emerged from, shouting over his shoulder, ❝ just keep an eye out for jewels. we’re running low on ice packs. ❞

      ❝ jewels? ❞ dark brows furrowed, fearing the answer.

      ❝ gonad the destroyer. ❞

      he wished he was surprised. ❝ you named her jewels. ❞

      poe threw up a hapless shrug as he disappeared beyond the door.

      the nursery that supplied the petting zoo with its attractions looked no different from the ones for bipedal children. white walls painted with colorful flowers and butterflies. puzzle piece floor mats in primary colors covered most of the floor. scattered plush of various sizes; some recognizable like a sorcerer mickey mouse whose blue wizard hat had seen better days. what betrayed the room’s intended toddlers were the kong brand dog toys made for the highest possible domesticated bite force and the safety measures tested to withstand 1360 kilos of prehistoric muscle.

      as fett expected, rey was at the heart of the romp of tiny titans. he could see her clearly through the window of the security door, hear her too despite the thick plating. she had a way with the prehistoric few could hope to replicate. even boba, who grew up alongside ingen’s creations, struggled to breach the gap of eons with the same charismatic ease. if owen grady had half a mind to let the girl near his raptors, fett suffered no doubt she’d have them mewling like kittens in a matter of hours.

      ❝ hive’s queenright, ❞ the quip came on the heels of the entry hissing shut. boba placed his thermos on the flat top of a half wall, out of reach of any stray tails or crests. his arrival wasn’t deemed worthy of interrupting playtime. the younglings crashed around their specialized barrack, fawning over their caretaker instead. only a single sinoceratops spared him more than a cursory glance.

      the ceratopsid was on the runt side. her footpads much too big in comparison to the rest of her growing bulk. proportions that made her gallop as graceful as a ragdoll. she bleated in boba’s direction and tripped over herself to face him. performing an imbalanced shiko, she lifted up a floppy foot and slapped it down in a warrior stance. the youngling lowered her head, kicked the royal blue foam several times, and charged — her trajectory, full speed into boba’s pelvic region.

      fett reacted quickly. one hand grabbed her nasal horn, the other secured her crest. gently, the man guided her momentum in a circle around him. with a temperamental honk, the sino came to a pouty halt.

                                        ❝ jewels. ❞

                  the ceratopsid retorted with a snort.

[nightmarearian]

Nine Fandom People to get to know

@vylad243 tagged me for this (holy fuck I did a double take tbh; love ur radiostatic fics <333 )

3 Ships you enjoy/like

I’mma be honest, a lot of my experiences at the ‘end’ have me headcannoning a lot of aroace/qpr relationships or just plain not romantic/sexual so I’ll just shorten that to relationship, period.

qpr/romantic/sexual: Chili/Zhongchi (Genshin Impact, Childe/Tartaglia x Zhongli. Specifically Cyanide Narwhal’s iteration but anyways-)

Sibling/Family relationship: the Nimbasa Trio + Legends Arceus MC (Ingo, Emmet, & Elesa + Akari/Rei/MC)

qpr/friends/romantic: Arenos (Hades [Supergiant], Ares x Hypnos)

3 ships you enjoy from your current fandom(s)

Wavewave (Transformers, Shockwave x Soundwave)

Radiostatic (Hazbin Hotel, Vox x Alastor)

Jeith (Voltron Legendary Defender, [more of a qpr specifically], James Griffin x Keith)

First ship you shipped

Oh dear god uhhh My first fandom was mfing Undertake AUs (love them, but dear god) so uhhh Killermare?? I think?? (Undertale AUs, Nightmare x Killer)

Last Song you heard

Currently listening to music sooo lemme answer this after I finished-

Tho I did listen to Gladiator, The Dismemberment Song, Faster n Harder, and Dissolve each for like a day/night straight recently 👍

As of now I am listening to Derivakat’s Viper! :)

Fav Childhood Book

Uh deadass wish I could remember any of my childhood tho I do remember I was a book worm kid so

Uhhhhhh probably the Warriors Series (3rd series especially) or or or uhhh Percy Jackson/Rick Riordan’s books cause I’m a mythos fiend oh or SHOUT by Laurie Halse Anderson (I found it in my middle school book fair???) oh or- *dies*

What you are currently reading

Eh Handful of radiostatic fics and just going through Keith angst in ao3

Currently consuming

Nothing, actually, but I did just have some mocha boba milk tea and froyo an… oh shit it’s been an hour already

Currently Craving?

Nothing, again, since I just ate.

uhhh, no let’s see the stunning by amount of people I can remember and not anxiety out of tagging:

@theundertaleeffect @defnotnoodle @donatellokinnersinner @blood-orange-juice @definitlyhuman @soyhasmcaamp

uhhh and anyone who wants to join! :)

[thewiglesswonder]

So I learned something today

[ask-dr-knockout]

The logical choice was to turn Shockwave into a BobaBot next! 😉

🍇🧋GrapeWave BobaBurst🍇🧋

[captainhawkbuckwrites]

Princess Part 1

Hi, so here is the first part of a possible multi chapter fanfic. This is very tame and fairly fluff but looking at introducing Cobb and Mando so let me know if you would be interested in reading more.

Pairing: Y/N x Boba Fett

Warning: mentions of death and injury

You hobble down the steps into the main throne room, after just being cornered by a gang of hit men working for the syndicate on your morning run. You hadn’t come off too bad, well compared to them. Their corpses currently rotting in that very same alleyway.

“Hey Princess” Fennec smirks, loving taking the piss out of Boba nickname for you, as she starts ascending the stairs towards you. “We thought you had gone”

“I am guessing you got my message” you say weakly ignoring her comment.

“Yep, that is just where-“ she stops mid sentence, noticing the wet patches all over your dark clothing; indicating blood. “What happened?” She rushes to your side, helping you down the stairs.

“Another set of syndicate hit men cornered me, they came off worse than me” you try to laugh.

“He is not going to be happy” Fennec whispers to herself, steering you towards the Bobas old room; where the bacta tank was kept.

“No, it is fine, I will heal like a normal-“

“Princess?” Boba voice boomed from behind you, sending shockwaves through your body, you didn’t hear him sneak up on you both. “What happened?” He asked Fennec, lifting your free arm over his broad shoulder to help Fennec carry you towards the tank.

“I am fine, just some more syndicate hitmen, they thought they could take me out, cornered me, obviously didn’t know who they were dealing with” you say with a weak smile taking a seat on the side of the tank. They both stood there partly shocked, partly impressed and a lil bit scared. The thought of losing you being too much.

“What was you doing out there?” Boba exterior was distant, he needed to know if you were going about your daily routine or leaving before offering anything else. You knew this, after getting the news of Mando being back on planet you knew why he was unsure.

“I was just on my morning run, Boba. I know he is back, but I don’t care, he hasn’t thought to contact us since the kid left, so why should I?” You didn’t really want to see him in all honesty, it had took you a lot to get to the stage you are now, the feelings where still there but your life with Boba and Fennec? It was good, and you had feelings for them both, both of them different yet you cared for them both all the same. But you knew you had to see him again, for the good of Boba, Fennec and yourself. “But you need people, you need as many good fighters as you can find, Mando is a great fighter.” You look at between the both of them before Fennec smiles a tad and just nods.

“I am going to fetch him, do you want me to wait?” She gestures to the tank.

“What part of “I don’t care” screams I want to come with you Fennec? It is best I stay here, I am sure you can convince him on your own.”

“Ok” she smiles and heads towards the door. “See you later”

“Bye”

“Good luck” You and Boba mumble till she is out the door.

Then; silence. Neither of you move, neither of you speak.

“Boba” you finally make the first move. “I wouldn’t, I don’t want to….. leave, i mean if you don’t want me to stay, I will g-“

“Princess, have I not shown you just how much I want you in our time together?”

You thought, I mean you shared a sleeping quarters, you was his arm candy when out in Tatooine, his joint brawn with Fennec if needed. The last few months you had shared many things together, you had developed feelings for him but still the thought of him WANTING you to stay was hard to understand.

“I just-“

“I know, Princess. Trust me, I know.” He stands in front of you, holding both of your hands in his. “Whatever you are feeling, you can speak to me. No matter what it is, I don’t want you hiding feelings on account of me-“

“Boba, I-“ you try to interrupt, you would never hide anything from him.

“I know you wouldn’t but with the war that is coming tensions are going to be high and the palace; crowded, I am just asking you to keep an open line of communication with me”

“Of course I will, but only if you do too”

“Oh you drive a hard bargain Princess” he leans down placing a lingering kiss on your lips, it suddenly getting more needy, your hands caressing his face. He goes to hold your waist putting his large hand over one of your injuries. You let out a Yelp. “Y/N” Boba is concerned, looking over your clothes more closely, seeing the true damage that your dark clothes were hiding. “Why didn’t you tell me how badly you were injured?” He makes a start on helping you shred your clothes, exposing the multiple cuts, bruises and burns that had blistered your skin from the attack, preparing you for the tank.

“It is nothing” you try to half smile.

“It is not nothing, you take one of us with you in future”

“I am not-“

“I am not losing you! You will take me or Fennec out with you in future!” He shouts, immediately looking at the floor, ashamed, once realising what he had done.

“Hey, Boba, look at me” you try getting up, this immediately causing him to stand in front of you. You smile up at him. “I will only leave with you or Fennec, but you can’t go out by yourself either, I can’t lose you.”

“You really do drive a hard bargain”

“I think that is fair. A true hard bargain would be asking Fennec to do the same”

“That is true Princess, she might like us, but not that much” he smirks leaning down to place another lingering kiss on your lips, this time it stayed that way. “Now get yourself in there, quicker you heal the quicker I can show you how much I would miss you”

“Sounds like a plan” you let him help you into the tube, “see you in a few” you whisper to him, lightly pulling him closer to you to place a lingering kiss on his lips before putting the mouthpiece in.

“See you in a few” he whispers back, pressing the button to set the session off.

[carboniteprincess]

Cat and mouse | Boba Fett/F! Reader | 1.8k words

Warnings: Explicit, minors dni please❤️

Crossposted on Ao3

Tags: Dominant Boba Fett, Semi-Public Sex, Rough Sex, Creampie, Sexual Roleplay, sort of? you want boba to chase you like a bounty

Description: When Boba finally agrees to fulfil your fantasy of hunting you after months of pestering, you find yourself on a backwater planet desperately attempting to avoid his grasp. What will he do when he catches you?

You knew you didn't stand a chance, when you proposed the idea he almost laughed in your face. How outrageous that you would willingly ask him to hunt you when many would ask for anything but. However, the idea of playing cat and mouse was far too delicious to ignore. He agreed, only to please you, always only to please you. 

You got two days' head start, allowed anywhere within the outer rim. Once those 48 hours were over, Boba was going to find you. The very thought of him tracking you, chasing you like one of his bounties sent a shockwave down your legs, pooling at the center. This was so very wrong, and yet, the excitement that bubbled in your stomach said otherwise. All you had to do was hide, that was the only rule. 

When the timer went off, you flinched. You wondered how long you could keep it up, hiding on some backwater planet before he makes chase. Two days apart had left you desperate and pining, part of you almost wanted to give yourself in. But this was what you wanted, and you know he secretly liked the idea. The thrill of the chase was often Boba's favorite part of bounty hunting, and knowing that his prize would be you, made it even better. 

And so here you sat hood up, in a random Cantina. You ate and drank little, not staying in one place for long. You knew better than that, you'll be happy if you avoid him for 12 hours, or perhaps a day. You had just about finished your drink when you heard the familiar sound of the Slave 1. He was here… already? How? That bastard must of been waiting for time to pass, sitting around in the atmosphere. You didn't have time to stop and think, throwing credits onto the table and bolting out the backdoor. 

You ran through the alleyway, seeing no sight or sign of him. This was of no reassurance, you knew he was watching. Waiting for the right time to strike, a perfect predator. The rain pelted against the dirt, this was the worst time he could've found you, as your boots sunk into the mud and left convenient tracks like a trail of treats, leading to his dinner. 

You needed to get off the mud, lose him in a crowd, you sprint towards a marketplace. Perfect, permacrete, and a large crowd huddling for shelter. You pinch a new cloak off a stand, sliding the vendor extra and dumping your previous onto the ground. Keeping your head down, playing the role of a simple window shopper. Maker, your heart is racing. This was exactly what you imagined and more. 

You hear beskar against the permacrete, freezing, you keep your head down. You know he's barely a foot away, praying silently that your disguise worked. As the footsteps grow distant, you allow a breath you didn't know you were holding to fall. A small smile playing on your face. Perhaps he was going easy on you, or maybe, just maybe, it worked. That was too close. 

You head in the opposite direction, pushing your way back through the crowd, as darkness falls. Hopefully, you could catch a ride off-planet, or at least find a hiding spot suitable to spend the night in. Your cloak is soaked, the wool weighing heavy on your shoulders. With great trepidation you poke your head around the corner of another alleyway, it seems clear. There's no one around, but you're vulnerable and it's putting images of all the things he's going to do to you when he catches you. It's making you so complacent, that you yelp as a hand grips your forearm, pushing you against the wall and bringing your face to face with Boba Fett. 

"Got you." His voice is like velvet, and you're already trembling with anticipation. You stare up at his visor, your eyes darkened with lust. "An easy mistake, little one. You didn't check the roof." His head tilts, taunting you. You swear you heard a tut escape his lips, distorted by his helmet. Dammit. "I guess I have little choice but to surrender…" You muttered, bowing your head in defeat. Two gloved fingers come under your chin, guiding your head back up to meet his gaze. 

A chuckle, but not a pleasant one, escapes him. Deep, dark, and wanting. "Surrender? I like the sound of that." Boba's grip on your chin tightens, his words rolling off his tongu. How easy you were, giving yourself to him with little complaint. You almost whined, feeling his knee separate your shaking legs. "Well— I will go back to the ship willingly—" You stammered, as he lets out another low chuckle. "The ship? Oh no, little one. I think I'll claim my prize right here." That was it, your hips rolled against his knee by their own accord, all inhibitions are gone. You wanted him, no, needed him now. 

Head rolling back against the wall as he dug his knee deeper, your cunt throbbing onto the cool beskar."Look how desperate you are, riding my knee in public. Making me chase you…" Boba trails off, palming himself through his pants. "I am desperate." You had no shame anymore, moaning your words as you grow needier for friction. "I think you'd let me eat your cunt right here, wouldn't you, princess?" Maker, just the sound of it makes you squirm, his chest roughly pressing into yours. "Please." You whine, uncaring about how wanton you probably sound. 

Boba takes no time pulling your pants down, one leg hoisted up and onto his shoulder as he falls to his knees. You hear the hiss of hydraulics and a thud on the ground below. Helmet now gone, Boba wastes no time, his tongue teas in your slit. Your thighs shake on contact, hearing Boba murmur about you tasting "sweeter than Corellian wine." 

By the time he begins to suck on your clit, you feel already far gone. He was right, you were needy, and you definitely would let him eat your cunt right here. Boba's large hands move to your hips, steadying you against the sandstone as you try to buck wildly into his mouth. His knees dirtied from the ground below, you feel one hand leave your hip, a gloved hand gathering your slick as he hums in approval. Stars, he was good with his tongue. 

When a finger enters you, rough and textured, you practically purr in delight. The small circles he tracing against your clit quickened as he feels you clench around his fingers, lapping up everything you were offering him. You stared down at his face, buried between your legs, framed by moonlight with dark eyes boring holes into your own. "Fuck— Boba.." The words do not appear, burying themselves as your throat lets out a strained whimper. 

Another finger enters with ease, you were dripping, the sight of him with your leg on his shoulders, the course leather teasing the spot that only he could ever find. In seconds you were gushing against his fingers, saliva escaping your mouth as he relentlessly worked your clit. Your vision faded, ears ringing as Boba pulled your high out for as long as possible until tears pricked the corners of your eyes, oversensitivity making you jump at the subtlest touch. His ministrations lessened, just holding you there at the hip as you fell back to earth. 

You looked down to see him, fucking smirking at you, licking his gloved fingers clean. His face glistened as the heat rises to your cheeks, the sudden embarrassment of acting in such a way where anyone could walk by and see you with your legs spread for the most wanted man in the galaxy, and the worst part was you worshiped it. You loved what he did to you, how he could work your body to bend to his will. 

Boba got off his knees, pulling you into a kiss, you tasted yourself on his tongue, groaning open-mouthed as you felt his hands return to your hips. He broke the kiss while he harshly turned you, your cheek now against the wall. You felt him rut into you as if asking you silently for permission. You granted it, meeting his movements with your own, feeling how hard he was through several layers of clothing.

"Please, maker, please!" Your request was more urgent than intended. Boba's hand reaches your hair, brushing away from the tendrils of sweat clinging to the nape of your neck. "Patience." He replies through gritted teeth. He's struggling too, you hear a clank, his armor. He rests his head on your shoulder, heated breath against your neck, chapped lips peppering kisses across your jugular. You practically cry in relief when you feel his cock, gathering your wetness before slowly, torturously pushing into you. 

Two days apart has left you both insatiable, an audible grunt of relief escapes Boba's lips. Your cunt bracing around him like a vice, you didn't know how much you needed him until this moment, oversensitive, face against the wall. He pulls out as you mumble something intelligible, the emptiness feeling as if it would last forever. He enters you fully this time, with such force you bounce against the wall. You take it all freely, delighting in how thick he is. "Such a greedy little thing. Begging me to chase you, begging me to fuck you." His voice low and raw, his hand now tugging your hair. The other finds your clit, swollen and sore. 

"You can give me another, I know it. Feel that? How tight you are around my cock? Let go, little one. I know you want to." He whispers like it's a prayer, lulling you into another orgasm. He tenses inside you, chasing his release. Fuck, he's so tempting. You meet each thrust eagerly, his fingers never leaving your clit."I— can't! I—" Tears began to fall down your face, subdued by sensitivity, you grip the wall for strength. 

You feel like a ton of bricks crumbled on you, crying out. Your eyes rolling back, mouth open, and back arched. The only word you knew was his name, nothing else in the galaxy mattered, the only thing that did was him making you come undone on his cock. Every muscle against you twitched, Boba's body was now taut. His lips caressed your neck, biting down with a shaky breath as he twitches inside your cunt. 

He kisses the spot where he bit you, his hand cradling the back of your head, brushing your hair tenderly. You feel a rush of cold air when he pulls out, a stark difference to before. Warmth seeps down your thighs, both panting and basking in the moonlight of afterglow. Finally, you separate yourself from the sandstone, taking all your might to stay standing. He covers you, pulling your pants up for you, whispering about how you'll need a trip to the refresher. 

Boba's lips graze your forehead before he places his helmet on, hiding from you once more. "Come on, princess. Let's go home." His arm slides under your knees, holding you firmly bridal, bundling you up in your cloak as he carries you back to his ship. You lie tired and spent against his chest, your heart swelling with devotion as you doze off in his arms. 

[zaptrapp]

Hey there! I’m sorry you’re feeling lonely but I feel ya 😭 For the ask post can I get uhhhhhh Boba/ f!reader 64 with a side of 70?( if I may be so bold) Thank you so much 🥵✨

Hey! It’s been rough these past days, but whatever, I have to deal with it regardless!

So... here we go with your request. Turned out spicy (I hope you’re okay with the kinks I’ve put in it omg).

64: “Behave” + 70: “Do you think you deserve my dick tonight?”

Warnings: mention of snorting spice, brat taming, gun play! 18+ and definitely NSFW.

——————

Boba looks at you clenching his jaw. You definitely crossed the line sitting on his client’s lap, flirting and laughing with them. It was not completely your fault, might be the extra shots of Corellian Whiskey you shoved down your throat or the snort of that delicious spice these smugglers brought along that gave you enough courage to challenge the king of the Underworld.

He grabs your arm, pulling you closer with a tug, unbalancing you.

“What did I tell you before?” he whispers in your ear.

“D-don’t remember.” You jiggle, your head light as a feather.

“Behave.” He says menacing, tightening the grip on your arm.

“Or else what?” you spit out grinning, feeling a little too rebellious.

That was a mistake.

Boba throws his chair away making you lose balance and fall on your ass.

“You are coming with me, now.” He secures his gloved finger around your necklace, making you stand up with the force he applies on the chain.

You both exit in a rush the dining room, not giving a single damn about the show you two were putting up in front of the spice traffickers.

He tosses your entire body on the bed so you automatically open your legs, slipping your panties on a side with your finger.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a low, harsh tone.

“What are you doing?” you echo him, eyes flickering lusciously.

“Do you think you deserve my dick tonight? After that show you put up, spoiled brat?”

“Come on, you know it was just to make you a bit jealous.” You whine smiling innocently.

He leans forward, towering you with his whole, thick body. You love to feel his weight on you, so you jerk your hips up to stroke your heated pussy on him.

“You need to learn a lesson here, princess.” He laughs maniacally, slapping your breasts.

“Boba!” you cry out, reaching with your shaking hand his codpiece.

“I don’t think so, little one. No dick for you today, you’ve been so so naughty out there.” He says in a condescending, unnatural way, slowly grabbing his blaster.

You swallow thickly, blushing hard.

He brushes the cold barrel of his gun on your inner thigh, applying more and more pressure as he reaches your groin.

You hold your breath, your cunt throbbing impatiently to get stuffed.

“Are you going t-to…?” you stutter, biting your lower lip.

“On second thought...” he says, placing it in front of your mouth and hitting it lightly.

“Is it loaded?”

“Who do you think I am girl?” he grins. “Now open up and lick it.”

You oblige, your heart racing faster than ever. You normally would refuse to do such thing, but you already pushed too many of his buttons, and you would make him so much angrier, risking too much.

Better than nothing.

As you suck his blaster, circling your wet tongue on the barrel, tasting gunpowder and metal, Boba tickles your pussy with two gloved fingers.

He picks up your wet juice and he sucks it avidly.

“At least you taste good, mesh’la.” He teases you, introducing those same fingers in you again, jerking them frantically.

You whimper, almost choking on his gun. He is now torturing your sensitive clit, brushing it with his thumb, the roughness of his glove sending your body shockwaves of pleasure.

“Look at you, all so wet and sorry. You want more?” he asks, twisting his fingers in you.

“Your d-dick.” You say mercilessly, not even begging for it.

“Why are you so difficult today uh?”

He bends a leg on the mattress of the bed to have better access to your pussy, blaster following the curves of your body. You twitch under it, thinking about how it is loaded and ready to fire.

He spreads your legs even further, pinning one with his free hand.

He locks eyes with you, smirking viciously only to shove the barrel of his gun up into your pussy.

You gasp out loud at the sensation of your cunt clenching onto the cold metal drum.

“Stars, Boba!” you cry out, jerking your hips on it. You need to release that orgasm you’ve been keeping for what seems ages.

“Just say it, princess.” He murmurs, fully enjoying himself.

“Ugh… fuck me with your fucking blaster.” You pant, ripping off your shirt, your breasts bouncing out.

He smiles, grabbing one of them and squeezing your hard nipple between his fingers.

The blaster was moving in and out of you at an impossible pace, the risk of him losing control and pulling the trigger dangerously high.

But that was part of the whole reason you were enjoying it so much. You were completely at his mercy, his experienced hand all over you.

He cages you with his body, pressing his stomach against yours, humping your thigh, desperately horny too. He kisses you, introducing his tongue and intertwining it with yours.

“Oh fuck…” you mutter, his blaster still in you, hitting hard your walls in the right spot.

“Boba, I’m c-coming” you cry rolling your eyes back, cunt clenching desperately on the gun, buried deep inside you.

He pulls it out, the barrel covered with your cum. He starts licking it off, the image of him sucking avidly his own blasters sending you in heaven.

“Boba…” you say sweetly.

“Yes, cryar’ika?”

“Am I getting your dick now?”

[gastricpierrot]

Title: Breathe fire into me 

Series: Promare

Pairing: GaloLio

Rating: T

Summary:

Lio might have a little crush on the cute barista from the boba shop he visited recently.

Only there's a catch: there's much more to Galo Thymos than what he seems.

Note: role reversal AU, boba barista Galo, archer main Lio 

Also on AO3

[Chapter 1]

Lio Fotia isn’t fearless by any means.  

After all, firefighting is a dangerous job. Fire burns. Fire consumes. Fires do not care. They're destructive, unpredictable. And in the case of Burnish flares, they’re alive.  

It takes courage to put out flames, it takes strategy. It takes many things Lio still doesn’t have and hasn’t learnt.  

It’s been about a year since Lio’s joined the FDPP, immediately assigned to the 3rd unit the moment he’d graduated from the Academy due to them being severely shorthanded at the time. He's braved through countless blazes since then, yet he still finds a slight tremor in his hands whenever he’s on the way to a scene. The sirens of the Rescue Mobile never seemed to stop sounding too loud, too piercing.  

Lio Fotia is afraid of fire. Afraid of what else they might take from him, because he knows they could never take enough.  

“Lio? Lio, are you listening?”  

He takes a sharp breath, pulled out of the lulling haze of siren wails by the Captain’s voice over the intercom. Don’t think. Don't let it register.  

“There’s people trapped in the fiftieth floor with flammable chemicals. Got it,” Lio affirms as he does a brief, habitual last-minute routine check on his Rescue Gear's controls. “I’ll get it over with quick.”

“Be careful,” he hears Ignis say, and he grits his teeth just in time before he’s launched into the air, shot out and up at a speed that sends his stomach plunging all the way down to his feet.  

Lio crashes through the windows of the building’s fiftieth floor, immediately surrounded by a hellscape of Burnish flames. They're hostile as always the moment they sense his presence, forming into massive serpents of purple and turquoise fire –honestly too beautiful to be so destructive—and diving towards him with obvious malice.  

Lio doesn’t have the time to deal with them; the fire could reach the chemicals and cause an explosion any moment. He freezes the serpents barely batting an eye, barreling his way towards where the projection on his Gear’s windshield indicates. He's not too far now. Sweat trickles down his jaw. Five minutes. Give him five minutes.  

He tears off the door of the room where the group of researchers have been taking shelter, not even sparing the breath to yell assurances before he’s ushering them into the rescue container. His pulse pounds in his ears as he waits for the last of them to climb on, fingers gripping his handles tight enough to burn against his palms.  

“Retrieval successful, Captain,” Lio says as he hoists the container up. “Proceeding to retreat.”

“Better hurry up, Lio,” Lucia warns just after Ignis acknowledges his update. “Things aren’t looking too good.”

Lio knows better than to jinx it by wondering what could be worse. He charges right back into the inferno, this time not bothering to even ward off the flame serpents. His Gear can withstand at least this much heat, he’s sure. There's no choice but for it to be so.  

He makes his escape not a second too soon, barely climbing ten floors down when the fiftieth finally erupts, sending entire building quaking violently and in palpable danger of collapsing altogether. Lio near loses his grip for a moment, thrown off balance by the shockwave and the ringing in his ears. He bites his lip hard to reel himself back, using the staticky, frantic voices of his teammates as an anchor.  

“I’m fine,” he assures into his communicator, though he’s yet to be able to properly hear his own voice again. “I’m coming down now.”

And by the universe’s mercy he does manage to eventually make the rest of the way down. He proceeds to transport the researchers a safe distance away where paramedics are on stand-by, hurrying back to the scene right after setting down the container. Lucia’s mentioning about picking up some unusual heat readings over the intercom, then as if on cue, Lio hears more explosions from the distance.  

Static. His other teammates frantically asking if everything’s alright. Ignis coming back online, his sentences choppy from interference.  

Then Lio hears what could only be described as the laughter of hooligans in the background.

Lio heaves an exhausted sigh. Of course they’d have to be there. Mad Burnish has a reputation for loving to gloat as much as they have one for setting random fires, after all. Lio really has his job cut out for him this time.  

“Lucia?” Lio waits until he gets a solid response from her before continuing, “Is Detroit good to go today?”  

“I haven’t had the time to finish fixing the bow’s mechanism,” Lucia says, her words peppered with the rapid clicks of her controls. “You’ll probably have ten shots, max.”

“Apart from that?” Lio arrives and assesses the situation. Mad Burnish are circling around the Rescue Mobiles on their bikes, hooting and jeering and generally making a ruckus and obstructing extinguishing efforts while outnumbering Lio’s teammates three to one. They’re too fast for Lucia to handle with the Mobile’s artillery and for Ignis to land effective shots with his gun. Varys, Remi and Aina are nowhere to be seen on ground; they’re still occupied with trying to control the fire above.  

“Shouldn’t have a problem,” Lucia affirms, and Lio’s cranking the lever to shift his Gear into Detroit mode.  

Mechanisms slide and click into place with flawless transition upon activation of the suit’s alternate form, shifting its center of gravity and losing redundant pieces as it takes a sleeker, lighter appearance more suitable for combat. Lio then reaches behind the back of his Gear, detaching the rod there which he then flips a switch to have it morph into the form of a large bow.  

Lio gets into position, and draws.  

It's stiffer than usual, he notices at once as the built-in arrows respond to his motion and take shape. Lucia’s estimates are rarely ever wrong; he’s going to need to make every shot here count.  

He takes aim, and releases the first arrow.  

It soars through the air and instantly encases a Mad Burnish member in a large bloom of ice upon contact. Lio’s notching the next one while the rest are still trying to process what’s happened, successfully freezing another in place before the finally spot him.  

Lio braces himself, seeing them exchanging signs to rally.

Then all at once, they’re charging straight towards him.  

Lio manages to pick off one more Burnish before he decides they’re getting too close. He presses another button and changes his grip on his bow, moving into another stance as his weapon shifts to next resemble a sword. He spends a second to analyze their positions and movements, then with a sharp breath, he rushes to engage them.

He enters a daze as he always does when close combat, letting his body and instincts take over as he maneuvers through and around his opponents. Slash, duck, parry. Lio’s received a number of questions and comments about the way he fights over his months on duty, but truthfully, he’s never really figured out how to respond to them. He just does what feels right, what feels the most effective.  

When he comes to this time, all six Mad Burnish members are encased in blocks of ice. Lio’s slightly out of breath as he checks his Gear’s condition out of habit, hoping he hadn’t accidentally overdone it again. There are some gashes on the armor plating, the usual singed spots from Burnish fire—but everything else seems good enough. His weapon is still holding up as well.  

Lio turns toward the blaze in the building; it seems that his teammates have also been making good progress with that. Ignis tells him good work, and Lio’s just about to take his hands off his controls to work the knots out of his shoulders when he feels an impact against his Gear.  

Whatever hit him detonates a split second after contact, sending him staggering sideways and almost toppling onto the pavement.

Lio grits his teeth, finding his footing again by almost the sheer force of will. Red warnings blink across his windshield, and Lio sprains to see a part of his suit’s left shoulder burnt and falling into pieces.  

And then flame serpents, even larger than those Lio had faced earlier, dive in out of seemingly nowhere to collect the frozen Burnish into their jaws. A series of slow claps follows, and Lio’s turning and notching an arrow the second he overcomes his surprise, gaze following the length of the flames until he reaches their source.  

Another Burnish seems to have just exited the building, waltzing out casually as his serpents retrieved his brethren. Lio squints, barely making out details from the distance between them, only seeing that he dons a ragged black vest unbuttoned, black pants, and the horned visor helmet signifying a Mad Burnish leader.  

Not again,  Lio nearly groans because Burning Rescue had just apprehended the previous leaders some months back and the stress and exhaustion from that alone had taken probably a few years off his lifespan.  

In contrast, the Burnish sure sounds like he’s having fun.  

“Whewwww, you sure made that seem easy!” he whistles, voice distorted by his helmet yet somehow carrying enough for Lio to hear him clearly. “But sorry, hotshot, looks like it’s time for us to—hey!”  

He's interrupted by a sudden bloom of ice near his feet. Lio clicks his tongue. His trajectory was just a little off—it must be the unusual stiffness of his bow that’s messing with him.

“At least let people finish talking!” the Burnish protests, to which Lio doesn’t even bother answering. He notches another arrow, pulling taut as he recalibrates him aim with the help of Lucia’s adjustments. This time, he will not miss.  

He doesn’t. It would’ve once again landed right on target, if only it wasn’t intercepted by a wall of fire, far hotter than what their ice are designed to handle. Lio barely has the chance to think when the Burnish bursts out from behind the flames riding a bike he manifested, cranking it to obnoxious levels of noise as he charges towards Lio.  

Lio prepares to intercept, prepares to be out-sped and still somehow deal with it because what else is he supposed to do —until the entire left arm of his Gear falls apart, and he flinches.  

The Burnish speed right past him in a blazing trail of fire, hollering victory cheers as he makes his escape.  

Lio fumes, immediately moving to give chase.  

“Lio, stop!”  

And he’s halted in his tracks upon a stern order from Ignis. Let them be, the fire has priority, he’s told in a tone leaving no room for arguments. And Lio knows the Captain’s right. He's getting too worked up, he's losing rationality. He clenches his fists, forces the roar of blood in his ears to subside.  

He glares toward the direction where Mad Burnish had disappeared to for just a moment more, then spitting a curse, he turns around and heads to help finish up their job for the day.  

xXx

“How’s that feeling?”  

Lio draws an arrow from his bow, trying to gauge the extent of improvement Lucia’s service had made on it. It feels much easier to use than the last time even in its down-sized mode; the string fiber more flexible, the overall weight of the bow more stable in his hands.  

“Like it’s new,” Lio marvels, eternally impressed by Lucia’s mechanical skills. Lucia smiles wryly and crosses her arms.  

“Good. You’re gonna have to be relying only on that for a while,” she says, then gesturing to Lio’s Gear behind her in the garage. “We won’t be able to do much with Detroit until the new parts arrive.”

“It’ll do,” Lio assures; his specialty has always been the bow and arrow from the start, anyway. “Thanks, Lucia.”

“Anytime,” Lucia says, slipping her goggles back over her eyes before turning to saunter off. “Now back to work!”

“Aina’s asked me to go with her to get some bubble tea later,” Lio calls after her, remembering at the nick of time. “What would you like?”

Lucia responds to just get her whatever, and knowing she’s now already too distracted to pay him attention any longer, Lio hurries off in search for Aina.  

It’s Aina’s idea to check out the new shop that’s recently opened just down the block from the station, thinking it could be a nice treat for the team after that hell of a fire they had to put out two days ago. The higher-ups had a lot to say about them failing to capture the new Mad Burnish boss as well, and while none of them has outwardly voiced their complaints about it, Lio knows everyone’s high-strung. Arsonist Burnish always pose more danger when they’re in groups; they become more daring, fearless. Even more so if they have a charismatic leader to head the way. It'll be the start of another manhunt for the new Boss.

Lio has never quite understood the point of Mad Burnish setting all those whimsical fires. They’re only giving the rest of the Burnish people a bad reputation, further feeding the stereotype that they are inherently dangerous just because they have the ability to control flames while the majority do not. Sure, perhaps setting things aflame does create a sense of unexplainable satisfaction, but is doing it at such a destructive scale really worth possibly endangering the rest of your people in the long run?  

“What did Lucia say she’d want?” Aina asks once Lio’s caught up to her and they’re setting out on their way to the shop. Lio shrugs as he trudges on, taking a moment to enjoy the mundane tranquility around him; the feel of the late morning sunlight on his skin, the sounds of traffic along the road. It’s not every day that he gets to talk casual strolls in the middle of a shift like this.  

“She says anything’s fine.” Lio tears his gaze away from the puppy going out on a walk with its owner just passing them to look at Aina while he speaks. “We could just get her one of their signatures?”

“Can’t go wrong with that, she likes anything as long as they’re sweet anyways,” Aina agrees with a little snicker. “What about you, Lio? Any preference in mind?”  

“I’m not really in the mood for anything too rich so maybe I'll just get some fruit tea,” Lio says, then halting in his steps at the sight that greets him. “That’s, uh, if we even get to order at all..?”

Aina follows his gaze towards the line of people spanning three shop lots from their targeted bubble tea place, and lets out a groan. Lio understands her disappointment; he was really looking forward to sipping on something cold and sweet and refreshing, too. Still, they should’ve expected this, the craze never really had signs of going away even after all this while. The place is probably also having some sort of opening promotion, so of course people would be scrambling to have a try for themselves over the weekend.

“Maybe we should just go to another place,” Aina suggests, already looking around to see what alternatives they have. Lio agrees, not quite wanting to return empty handed after all their anticipation. He fishes out his phone and does a quick search, knowing there’s sure to be some other shop nearby. They seem to be everywhere regardless of competition.  

He eventually finds one with decent reviews located just a little further down the street, past the first junction. Aina, with no better ideas in mind, easily goes along with it.  

So they make their way there, and to their relief, finds it with a more reasonable queue despite most of the tables inside being occupied. Lio goes over the menu with Aina as they get in line, trying to decide on what to get. Lio’s going for the peach tea, Aina’s getting the matcha latte, and since the rest of the team can’t really be bothered as long as it’s Aina’s treat, they’ll just get them each the signature brown sugar milk tea.  

Aina receives a call while they’re later waiting for their order to be prepared, and Lio soon finds himself scrolling through his phone alone while she leaves to answer it outside where it’s a little quieter. With just a couple of other customers with singular orders ahead of theirs, it doesn’t take long until Lio’s number is beeped through the prompter and he’s stepping out to collect the drinks.  

“Oh, you’re part of the FDPP?”  

Lio glances up at the crew member, not even sure if he’d actually been spoken to because it’s so unexpected. His attention is immediately drawn to the blue hair first, shaved on the sides and spiked in a way that’s almost comical yet strangely suiting the person it belongs to. Lio’s gaze then travels a little further down to see the staff’s face and um.  

Okay. He's kind of...  

Cute.

“I’m sorry?” Lio manages, just in case he really hadn’t heard right or something. Get it together, Lio Fotia.

“Your jacket,” the guy repeats with a vague indicative motion, eyes bright with curiosity, “you’re part of the FDPP?”

“Ah,” Lio’s suddenly a little too aware that he might’ve been staring and almost frantically averts his gaze. “Yeah, our HQ’s just down the block.”

Wait, did he really need to say that, though? Oof.  

“Cool, cool!” Then as Lio dares to risk one final glance at him, he sees him offering him an encouraging grin. “Thanks for all your hard work!”  

Lio can’t help but offer a slight smile in return, a little touched by the sudden appreciation. “Thank you.”

And as they’re on the way back to the station, Lio catches himself lowkey hoping that the drinks would taste good enough for him to have an excuse to return.  

[tyrantisterror]

Man, I love reading your character analyses. On that topic, what are some of your favorite villains (either sympathetic or straight-up Emperor Palpatine-levels of loving being evil)?

There are too many to list in full, but I’ll try to get a good sampling:

- Count Dracula, natch

- Smaug, also obvious

- Jason Voorhees

- Godzilla when he swings that way

- Most King Ghidorahs but ESPECIALLY Monsterverse King Ghidorah

- Audrey II

- Jessie, James, & Meowth

- Skeletor

- Cobra Commander

- Mumm-Ra

- Beast Wars Megatron

- TFA Megatron

- All Starscreams

- Tarantulas

- Most Soundwaves but especially Prime Soundwave

- Most Shockwaves but especially TFA Shockwave

- Bowser

- Invader Zim

- Johnny the Homicidal Maniac

- the book version of Sauron (we don’t actually spend that much time with him but the few lines he has are gloriously cheeky, Tolkien’s villains shine when they get to talk)

- Gollum

- Tolkien’s goblins/orcs

- H.G. Wells’ martians

- some incarnations of The Joker

- most incarnations of Harley Quinn (i.e. when she isn’t written as masturbation fodder or Grimdark for the sake of Edginess)

- Oogie Boogie

- Maleficent

- Scar from The Lion King

- some incarnations of Satan/Lucifer/the devil, including most of the major literary ones like Milton’s

- Giovanni from Pokemon: The Origin

- Some incarnations of Mr. Hyde

- I’d say “some incarnations of Morgan le Fay” but the ones I like are the ones that aren’t truly villains but rather tricksters

- Macbeth

- Lady Macbeth

- The Weird Sisters

- Richard III

- Darth Vader, certain movies disregarded

- Boba Fett sometimes

- Hellboy’s Hecate

- The Diamonds from Steven Universe

- Any villain played by Vincent Price but especially Ratigan

- Tywin Lannister

- Some incarnations of Dr. Octopus

- Some incarnations of Green Goblin

- Some incarnations of Dr. Doom

- Any villain played by Christopher Walken

- Stringer Bell

- Princess Azula

[allspark]

BBTS News: Boba Fett, Animaniacs, Batman 89, Transformers, MMPR Ranger Slayer, Godzilla, Mummy, Dredd & More!

BBTS News: Boba Fett, Animaniacs, Batman 89, Transformers, MMPR Ranger Slayer, Godzilla, Mummy, Dredd & More!

We have a newsletter from BigBadToyStore. Pre-orders are open for the new Bumblebee Studio Series figures, including Core Class Shockwave and Ravage. Those two haven’t been available everywhere but BigBadToyStore has you covered. (more…)

[chromiumhearts-blog]

Boba has a dangerous crash on Vader. The dark lord is much taller, shoulders wide, stance calm. Boba feels safe around him. Vader reminds him of his father, but more than just a father figure. Boba cannot hide his feelings around the dark lord, and the dark lord himself could sense it through the force. 15. “The sky was full of stars but no moon”

Author Note: This turned out longer than expected and I feel like I could have gone on forever. I love how it turned out!

Boba vividly remembered the first time he had met the infamous Sith Lord, Darth Vader. He was still young then, but not naïve; not when he grew up under the harsh hands of fellow bounty hunters. He hadn’t known what to expect, but throughout his life he had kept company with some of the most villainous characters in the galaxy, so this should have been no different.

The problem was, Vader was nothing like those who had hired him before.

Nothing could have prepared him for the moment that doors hissed open and stormtroopers marched him into a large room with a viewport that oversaw the galaxy. The man stood with his hands behind his back; even at ease he cut an impressive and intimidating figure. The only sound in the room was from Vader’s respirator, one he required since his scuffle with a Jedi on Mustafar — or so the story went.

Their first meeting had been uneventful; the Sith Lord didn’t so much as look in his direction as he doled out instructions. Boba’s first job was simple — end the lives of two defectors of the Empire and return with proof.

Wanting to impress Vader, he had returned a mere day later with footage from his helmet cam of the vaporizations.

“I had been told you were the best in the galaxy,” Vader had said after viewing the holo, “But I had to see for myself. Well done, bounty hunter.”

The compliment made pride bloom in his chest, but he had simply nodded and taken his reward without a word. Over time, however, the need to not only impress Vader but gain his attention and praise reached a fevered height.

Sometimes the jobs were easy. Killing those who ran or had too many secrets to be left alive for the rebels to find. Others were required for the Empire, so Boba would steal them away in the middle of the night, whether it was right from the comfort of their own beds or from the cantina floor. All of the work given to him from the Empire was a priority to him, and not just for the pay.

Boba became enraptured with Vader; the mystery behind him, how utterly serene he felt in the Sith Lord’s presence and how good it was to be wanted and praised by someone of such power. Boba’s father had died in front of him when he was young, and he often missed the praises that came with being Jango’s son. Not that he was looking for a father figure in Vader — no, he was much too old for that now, but the desire to please the man and be told how good he was couldn’t be shaken.

This time when he arrived to collect on a bounty, no stormtroopers escorted him. He had become a trusted figure in the Empire by now, and Boba was more comfortable without the troops around. A long time had passed but he still had no idea how many men wore his face under their helmets; programmed for war and little more. He felt badly for the clones, and he couldn’t stand to think about how they had been seen as expendable.

Their meeting spot was planetside, and it was late by the time he arrived. It was different than docking on a Star Destroyer, and the change of scenery may have put any other hunter on edge. Most of the base was quiet save for those on the night shift, and despite being in a new location he knew where he would find Vader. He wanted to apologize the moment he saw him for the meeting being so late, but he didn’t. He was too distracted by the deafening sound of his own heartbeat as Vader turned to face him, stalking towards him.

Despite the threat of the looming Sith Lord, Boba didn’t move. Instinctually, most would crumble, but the bounty hunters heart rate only spiked in excitement.

Vader’s hands went to his helmet, and after Boba didn’t respond, he slipped the helmet over his head to reveal his features. The helmet was dropped to the floor without care and a leather gloved hand cupped his cheek. Boba kept his eyes down, lips parted slightly as Vader’s thumb slid over his cheekbone.

“Fear is a valuable trait to have, bounty hunter.” He said, his voice even through the modulator of his helmet, “Yet I sense none from you.”

“I’m not afraid of you, my Lord.” Boba replied, his eyes still cast down.

“Then why do you not look at me? Do you feel undressed without your helmet? Exposed?”

“Yes.” The answer came out much softer than even he could have anticipated.

Boba bit his bottom lip slightly before his eyes finally came up to meet those in Vader’s helmet, wishing he could see what was underneath. Was he falling for a robot? Was he an alien? Still, that didn’t stop him. Honey coloured eyes roamed the Sith’s helmet, nervously waiting a response.

When none came, he focused on the feeling of that gloved hand still caressing his face, fingertips trailing down to stroke against his jaw. His eyes closed momentarily, splaying long eyelashes across tanned cheeks. It had been long — too long since he had been touched, and such a simple, gentle gesture from a powerful man sent strange shockwaves of desire through him.

What he didn’t count on was how in tune with him Vader already was. Boba wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn he heard the once steady breaths of the Sith Lord hitch just slightly. Boba pressed closer, seeking more touch and was greeted with a hand on his hip. The grip was strong and he could feel it even through layers of clothing. Their bodies pressed close, but Boba was careful not to jostle the panelling on the other man’s suit.

“You’re touch starved.” Vader said matter-of-factly, his hand coming to rest on Boba’s shoulder. There was considerable weight to it — almost not human.

“And you’ve been looking for someone to touch.” Boba replied, his voice lower, husky with want.

He reached for Vader’s one hand and began to tug the glove off, but he recoiled, withdrawing himself completely from him and going to far as to turn his back.

“What happened to you?”

Boba watched as Vader’s arms dropped back to his sides, hidden by his sweeping cape. He was sure he could feel a pressure around his throat, then, his pulse point thudding heavily. He stilled, but didn’t relent. Vader squeezed slightly harder with the force, and Boba’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“You dare ask such a question?” Vader seethed, turning to the bounty hunter.

“I dare.” Boba struggled to get the words out, eyes locked with Vader’s helmet as if challenging him.

“Your infatuation is dangerous.”

The grip around his neck loosened and Boba drew in a breath, still holding his gaze with the helmet. The pressure was still there, threatening.

“So is yours.” Boba countered, a smirk making its way onto his face.

The pressure dropped, then, and the feeling of a phantom hand slipped under his armour, as if it was truly there, teasing across his chest before sliding lower. The touch felt hot and cold all the same, and Boba squirmed slightly as it crept ever lower, ghosting over him completely before disappearing.

“Walk with me, bounty hunter. That is, if you can still remember how to use your legs.”

Boba imagined the sarcasm that wasn’t caught by the modulator and grinned, slipping his helmet back on before following Vader out onto the quiet platform of a docking bay. In the distance, he could hear insects singing in the darkness.

“The sky is full of stars, but no moon. This planet doesn’t have one. Not yet.” Vader said, his helmet tilted upwards. “So we are building one. A Death Star. A planet killer. You have been bringing me talented engineers, and they have been serving the Empire diligently. And so have you.”

Boba could feel that bloom of pride in his chest again, and he knew, somehow, it radiated off him and Vader could feel it. He wondered, slightly, if he could feel other things through the force, too.

“Well, the Empire pays well.” He said instead, and Vader turned to him.

“Without you, none of this would be possible. Your father would have been proud.”

He felt another flare of deep emotion inside of him; the pain of loss, the anger at the Jedi and what they had done, and his mind went to the clones again before he could stop himself.

“I can sense your every thought and feeling within the Force.” Vader said, that phantom feeling coming back to Boba’s body and setting his skin alight. “And you are so sensitive, despite your demeanour saying otherwise. Give in, and let me show you things you’ve never experienced before. Let me feel everything through you.”

Boba’s breath hitched and his only response was the slight bob of his helmet in agreement. Is that how the Force worked? He wondered if Mace Windu felt the agony he had when his father was killed, but he tried to shake that away and focus on the now.

“Such pain.” Vader said as he brought Boba close again, “Suffering. Fear.”

Boba looked up to the Sith Lord once again, that phantom hand cupping his cheek under his helmet and making his eyelids flutter. Then, a very real hand gripped his hip again, thumb rubbing in a gentle circle. Boba’s head fell to the side some, pressing his cheek into the phantom hand.

“Show me everything,” Boba said lowly, “Please.”