#Cad Bane x Reader

[tarrensbookmarks]

Star Wars

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

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

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

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

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

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

dividers by saradika-graphics

#star wars fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #crosshair x reader #paz vizsla x reader #cad bane x reader #boba fett x reader #kino loy x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #andy serkis fanfic #star wars smut

[saber-slutt]

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

Hey gang! A fic with smut! Who cheered!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You only stared back with wide eyes.

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

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

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

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

He sat down on the edge of your bed.

Shit.

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

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

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

You sucked in a breath, “Bane.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go to your room. Now.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Listen-“

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

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

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

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

He said nothing, scoffing at your hasty proposition.

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

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

“You understand what that entails?” he queried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#cad bane smut #cad bane #star wars #tawni chokes out some writing #mating #cad bane x reader #no beta we die like clones

[my-sun-m00n-and-stars]

Cad Bane NSFW Alphabet

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

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

F!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#cad bane #cad bane x reader #duros #star wars #bounty hunters

[sinisterexaggerator]

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

An Unlikely Muse

Cad Bane x Gen! Reader

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

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

Word count: 3.5k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got a light?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shamelessly. Predictably.

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

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

“Take it or leave it,” he said.

You took that as your cue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“N-no, I- I was just-”

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

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

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

“What was that song, Cad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I can’t afford t-”

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

“Might be persuaded te give ye a discount.”

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

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

—-

Masterlist

Likes, comments, reblogs appreciated.

#cad bane #cad bane x reader #cad bane x you #cadbane #star wars #duros #fanfiction #my writing #fluff #ask #reader request #comfort #clone wars #bad batch #book of boba fett #x reader #x you #Star Wars x reader

[masteroffearshusband49020]

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait-" He cut himself off.

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

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

#cad bane #cad bane x reader #star wars #jack writes

[daddy-issues-99]

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

#marvel #venom x reader #venom #monster fucker #star wars #clone wars #cad bane #cad bane x reader #star wars smut #yautja x human #yautja x reader #yautja #the predator #transformers #transformers x reader #rotb x reader #megatron x reader #pinhead #pinhead x reader #admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #monster fudger #monster smut #smut #fluff

[nahoney22]

Can we have a Cad Bane x Reader where he finds out that the reader is self harming? What would his response be, how would he approach it? Anything would be great! Thank you so much. This is pretty heavy, so if you decide to not do it, I totally understand! Your writing is amazing!

Overcome

Cad Bane X GN!Reader

word count: 1.3k

Your boyfriend has just walked in on you in the refresher, and he is completely at a loss. What can he do to help?

warnings: trigger warning ⚠️ mentions of SH, Cad being a little inconsiderate and angry, swearing, emotional reader, comfort at the end. Please speak out if you’re struggling, someone will care and listen 💜

Cad could not believe his eyes when he walked into the ‘fresher, his cold blood beginning to boil as anger and confusion flurries his mind.

“What tha’ fuck are you playing’ at?” He kicks the blade out of your grasp, glaring down at you as you sit on the floor, silent and with your knees tucked up into your chest.

His chest is heaving, completely perplexed at what he just witnessed. “Answer me!” He barks, toothpick flying out of his mouth and clattering onto the ground.

You remain silent, staring off at nothing. Completely numb.

“Fine. Be ignorant.” He huffs, pacing back and forth which is when Todo comes sweeping over and analyses the scenario.

“Mr. bane, perhaps it’s best you leave.”

Cad looks at Todo with a face like thunder, “Me?” He hissed.

“Yes, they’re not in the right frame of mind to talk right now.” Todo tries to soothe the situation and Cad is almost in shock at how concerned Todo is in this situation.

He looks to you, then back at Todo and snarls. “Tell them to clean themselves up and meet me in the cockpit.” And like that, Cad stormed off leaving you and the service droid.

Todo floated a few inches above you, scanning your body with his sensors as you wiped away a tear that had escaped your eyes. "He hates me, doesn't he?" you asked in a small voice.

Todo paused for a moment before retrieving a med kit and returning to your side. "Mr. Bane hates a lot of things and people, but you are not one of them," he said soothingly.

You extended your arm, looking at the self-inflicted wound briefly before meeting Todo's gaze as he applied a spray. "He seemed pretty angry with me," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Obviously, you have what I assume is a wound that you did on your own accord so yes, he would be angry.” The droid lectures and you sigh miserably, pacing a hand under your chin as you let the droid get to work.

The two of you are quiet before Todo asks, “Why did you do it?”

Truth is, you didn’t have a specific reason. It was… a lot of things but none you wanted to get into with Todo of all things. “I don’t know.” You reply, not lying, but also not stating the truth.

“Very well.” He finishes patching you up. “He wants to see you in the cockpit.”

You blink and shake your head, hugging your knees again. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“But Mr.Bane insists-.”

“I don’t give a damn what he insists. If he wants to talk to me he can come here and speak to me.” You hiss, eyes narrowed on the droid who gives you a two second silence before flying off.

In the meantime, Cad is in the cockpit, sitting in the pilot's seat and is pinching at his brow, his temper still simmering but not boiling over.

He didn’t understand. Why would you do that to yourself? Was it a game he didn’t understand or were you…? He sighs at the thought of you doing something as drastic as what he was initially thinking and pondered where it all went wrong.

He sighed, thinking about how your relationship had started off rocky but eventually settled into something more. He loved you, and although it scared him at first, he would do anything for you. Well aware, he knew he had screwed up by snapping at you instead of trying to help. He bounced his leg up and down anxiously, wondering if you would pack your things and leave because of his behavior.

He whips around at the sound of noise but sighs to see it was only Todo. “Are they comin’?”

“I assume you’re talking about-.”

“Obviously! Are they comin’ or not?”

“No.” Todo says plainly.

He groans in aggravation but knows all too well his anger is getting the best of him. He hated seeing you hurting and of course, he fucked up and snapped at you rather than help. He wouldn’t be surprised at all if you were to pack up your stuff and leave after how he acted. But he was a Bounty Hunter, a hard headed one and didn’t do ‘comfort’. Maybe he had to change for you.

“I’ll go speak to dem in a bit.” He muttered to himself, hitting some buttons on the control panel as he set the ship into hyperspace so he had enough time to come up with something to say that didn’t make him sound like a complete idiot.

Maybe half an hour passed and there was still no movement from the refresher which is when he finally approached. The moment the door hissed open, your head tilts to the side, looking up at him.

The two of you stared at one another, neither of you having the courage to speak first. Then, he grumbles something under his breath along the lines of ‘move up’ where he wedges himself on the floor in front of you, his long legs sprawled out.

You see him glance at your arm and you don’t shift your position this time. Instead, you look across at him before saying, “say something then.”

Cad removes his hat, wiping the sweat off his brow he didn’t realise was forming and placed it over his knee. “Alright. Why did you do it?”

The second time that question surfaced today and it wasn’t easier to answer this time round as his red eyes bore into your own. “It’s… complicated.”

“Damn right it is.” He snarled a little but upon seeing your hurt reaction, he sighs and muffles a quick apology. “Can ya try and explain it to me then? Before I lose my head.”

“Before you say, this has nothing to do with you. And I’m not depressed either.” He listens to you, blinking but it is not quite sinking in.

“So ya cut yourself for what? Fun?”

“No! No,” you say quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I’ve been kinda dissociated recently and I felt like this way was the best way for me to take control. Stopping myself from feeling completely numb and empty.”

For the first time, Cad had to hold back a small tear that was threatening to spill. “I just don’t get why ya feel that way though. Or why ya didn’t talk to me about it first instead of doin’ somethin’ stupid like dat?” He gestures to your arm and you find yourself nodding in silent agreement.

“I’m so sorry Cad.” Your hands fly to your face, shielding the tears that poured down your cheeks.

Cad felt a small ache in his heart, yet another sigh parting his lips before he leans across and picks you up with ease, keeping you close to his chest. He does his best and whispers calm and soothing words that soon made your crying die down.

“Easy now.” He murmurs against your ear, placing a small kiss to it. “I’ve got ya. I… I love ya.”

“I’ll always be ‘ere, alright? Remember that. Next time you wanna do something like tha’ come and get me darlin’.”

Your exhausted self sighs against Cad’s body, both of you cuddled up as his longer fingers run through your hair. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem. I’m sorry for how I acted. Just felt like I could’ve done somethin’.” He frowned at himself, internally beating himself up for not seeing the signs earlier. That was part of his life, to have keen eyes and search for any signs of danger. He just felt shitty that he didn’t see it right under his nose.

“Like I said, it’s not your fault. I’m just… tired.”

Cad will do everything in his power to make you feel loved, protected and calm.

Tags: @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr r @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka a @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @theroguesully @equalityforcats @mustluvecho @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova a @chxpsi @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon

#cad bane x reader #cad bane x you #cad bane #clone wars #star wars

[kylorengarbagedump]

Better Than Credits (NSFW)

Read on AO3.

Summary: You're not a hustler - you're an artist. And the upper levels of Coruscant have become your favorite playground of late. Your patron tonight is on a Sabacc hot-streak - you plan to reap the rewards, too, until his ego has him placing you in the winnings pot.

Normally, it wouldn't be an issue. Your tactics always earn him a win. But this time, he's challenged by the most dangerous man in the galaxy - a man whose stare sends a thrill up your spine.

And now, you kind of hope you lose.

Words: 10.2k

Warnings: Cad Bane is Not Nice, Canon-typical violence

Characters: Cad Bane x Reader

A/N: THIS IS CO-WRITTEN WITH MY GORGEOUS LOVE @bastillia.

Hope y'all enjoyed! We had a blast writing it. It's a bit more niche, sure, but look. We want to fuck Cad Bane, and that's the way it is.

This literally took us an entire year because I decided to change careers and then move across the country and then go to a bootcamp and then get a job and then we moved into a new apartment. BUT NOW IT'S DONE.

Thank you to Faestae for your sprint tips. Thank you to all of my friends for encouraging me.

Love y'all so much! Talk to you soon. <3

“Raise.”

Trek pushes forth another stack of credits to the center of the table, gilded edges gleaming across the polished wood. Across from him, a Weequay folds, groaning as his cards collapse.

“This is bantha shit,” he says.

Trek snorts, crimson lip curling to expose his razor yellow teeth. “Give it up, Oros,” he replies, examining his hand. “If you weren’t ready to lose, you shouldn’t have played.”

“You’re pulling something, Varcast.”

A Trandoshan adds to the mound of credits, leveling Trek with his gaze. “Call.”

Oros rolls his eyes. “Are you not seeing this, Ussik?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Trek turns, glimpses you, his coal stone stare dipping to your cleavage. “You got any idea, baby?”

It happens in a single bat of your lashes. Giggling, you toss a coquettish look across the table, tits jiggling underneath the thin swatches of black silk meant to conceal them. It’s enough to break the focus of every single cardholder still at the table—and in that moment, Trek swaps his Commander card for the Balance card you’d had tucked at your hip.

“No,” you say, lip plumping in mock-despair. The Commander card slips into the open slot. “I don’t.”

Trek clucks his tongue, like he’s disappointed. “That’s too bad,” he says. “Oh well.” Shrugging, he chuckles to himself and spreads his cards to the sky before pushing them forward and leaning into his seat.

A perfect 23.

“Sabacc.”

The rest of the table curses, tossing their hands across the table in disgust. A wide grin slithers over Trek’s face and he bends to gather his spoils in his arms, dragging all of it—credits, jewelry, precious gems—into his growing pile.

“Kriffing bantha shit,” Oros grumbles, and shoves from the table to wander back to the casino.

Laughter quakes through the gathered crowd as he disappears. Trek leans toward you, cutting a smile, his fingers snaking behind your shoulders and tugging you close.

“Typical Weequays.” Trek loops a new necklace chain around one of his big, red fingers and dangles it in front of you. “Sore losers, the lot of them. Ain’t that right?”

You giggle and offer a shy smile to the table, pushing the necklace away as if he’s embarrassed you by being so bold.

“Another round?” the dealer asks, gathering the cards.

Trek slicks a hand along one of his horns, the other gripping your shoulder and gently jostling you. “You kidding?” he says. “While I got my lucky charm here?” His black-knife nails prick your skin. “Deal me in.”

“I need to get me one of those,” a Nikto says, his attention zipping over your stringy dress. “She for hire?”

Ussik hisses in agreement, fork tongue flicking through his teeth. “Don’t be greedy. Pass the luck around.”

A ripple of hungry snickering passes through the men. You want to groan in disgust—but you defer to Trek instead, peeking at him like you’re worried he’ll agree. He laughs, picks up his cards and appraises them before lowering his hand and shifting to meet your stare. Two heavy fingers pinch your chin, his claws catching your lower lip, and he shakes you.

“I think she likes where she’s at.” His hot breath brushes your face, and he releases you with a pat of your cheek. “Go get me a drink, baby.”

You glide up from your seat, curving your spine only a little more than necessary with the motion. Heat presses your ears as you turn away and promptly feel every set of eyes at the table adhere to your silk-framed ass.

“Alright, alright, get your tongues off the floor, boys. We playing, or what?”

Trek’s admonishment makes you giggle, and you toss one last faux-coy smile over your shoulder before setting off.

There’s no need to hurry while you meander towards the bar on the opposite side of the casino. Trek’s winning streak has him in good spirits, and you can already taste your cut at the end of the night. Plus, this is the first opportunity you’ve had to properly analyze your surroundings. You’d be remiss not to take advantage.

It’s busy tonight, packed with well-dressed socialites, business folk, even a few politicians from what you can glimpse. The air is thick and sweet, scattered with prismatic chandelier light that softens through wisps of expensive spice smoke.

The upper levels of Coruscant have become your favorite playground of late. Each of your senses is alight with luxury, the weight of the pockets passing you by almost tangible. It puts a glint to your eye and a sway to your hips. You know you look like temptation incarnate–so what’s wrong with attracting a little attention from prospective clients?

Some may look down on it, but you feel no shame in letting men pay for your company. With Trek, it’s as lucrative as it is simple—he wins, you win.

It’s the more lascivious caveats to your arrangement with him that, if you’re honest, you could do without. But for the money, it’s easy enough to endure. For now, Trek pays you well to keep things exclusive… and intimate.

At least he never lasts long.

Your heels tap the carpet with your stride, a metronome to the pleasant dance of silk around your thighs. Just a few more steps, and the bar is finally within your sights. But just as soon as it appears, it’s cut from view.

You slam to a halt, nearly falling over a couple who cut off your path, as if neither of them even saw you there. They stammer an apology while you recover your balance, though they both seem much more occupied with putting as much distance between themselves and the table behind them as possible.

Brow knitting, you turn in the direction they came from. Others move with similar haste, like clouds parting, all from a centerpoint on one tall figure walking leisurely towards a dice table.

He certainly stands out against this ostentatious crowd. You’re not typically one to stare, but he draws you like a seeker drone to a heat signature.

Long and lithe, his shape is an uncanny shadow over the scintillating room. He comes to a stop at the table, all fine leather and savoir-faire as he leans up against the edge. One long blue hand disappears into his jacket, then starts stacking credits on the betting line. He seals the wager with a tip of a wide-brimmed hat.

A sudden wetness gathers in your mouth, and the force that pulls you towards him is almost gravitational. The same burning curiosity which must tempt a Tooka-cat to jeopardize one of its nine lives for a particularly challenging prey. As you draw closer, the sheen of a blaster hilt flashes beneath his long jacket tail.

Yes, there is certainly something dangerous about this stranger. And certainly something enticing. And it’s not just the tower of golden credits now stacked on the velvet.

You sidle up to the space beside the tall Duros—the other players have left him a wide berth. Your thighs tingle.

“You look familiar.”

He doesn’t look up when you speak, just studies the table while he rocks a pair of dice between long, cerulean fingers.

“Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

It’s a hackneyed line, sure, but it usually does the job of starting a conversation. You shift your weight through your hips. He still doesn’t look up.

“You should hope not.” His voice sits deep in his chest, underlaid with a mechanical rumble that lights a tingle up your spine. “Unless you got a keen taste for trouble.”

The croupier calls for his throw. A devious urge flutters in your ribs.

“Breath of luck?”

A smirk touches his lips at that, toothpick shifting between them.

“Luck’s an avaricious whore.” His eyes finally spear you, twin red plasma beams that burn the breath from your chest. “Prefer to take my chances without her blessin’.”

At that, his arm winds back, and he launches the dice in a perfect arc across the table. They clatter and settle, revealing a Pilot’s Seven. You let out an airy laugh.

“Looks like she fancies you anyways.”

He peers down at you, toothpick bobbing between his teeth. If he’s at all affected by the subtle shift of your shoulders, or the way your lashes flutter when you meet his eyes, it doesn't show. His gaze never falls any lower than your own—somehow that warms your cheeks even more.

A voice on your other side makes you turn.

“I’d take some of that luck there, gorgeous.”

The speaker, an Abednedo, grins and offers his dice palm-up. You glance once more at the Duros, flash him a silken smile before redirecting it to his opponent.

“My pleasure.”

You bend slightly at the waist, letting your dress ride just a little higher up your thighs. By your measure, your stranger should have a perfect view. Your lips wrap into a soft o and you blow a puff of air over the Abednedo’s palm. He hefts the dice appreciatively, and throws.

An arc, a clatter.

Harch Eyes.

“Winner!” the croupier declares.

The Abednedo cheers, wrapping his arm around you and wobbling you in joy. You giggle, plant a chaste kiss on the wrinkles of his hairy cheek before politely peeling him from your frame. He’s too elated to notice, already occupying himself with counting his spoils like an eager child. The Duros is silent, stare finding you again.

It’s icier, harsher than the dead air of space. Its severity clips your bones.

But you don’t let that scare you. Instead, you smirk and turn away, tossing a vulpine look over your shoulder.

“That’s too bad,” you say. “You’ll get ‘em next time.”

With that, you depart the table, a flutter in your belly and a swing in your stride. You stop by the bar to grab Trek’s requested drink: always something sour poured over stones. His taste gives a new meaning to on the rocks.

You return to a few new and predictably demoralized faces, shoulders sunk in a circle, another heap of gold and silver credits glimmering in the center. It’s moved fast—this game is already in its last round, and Trek has anted up without your assistance. Batches of discarded hands are strewn over the tabletop, leaving Trek and Ussik as the final two players, again.

From yards away, you can spy a flash of Trek’s cards and frown. He’s being reckless. You shouldn’t have left him.

Sparing a sweet smile to the crowd, you saunter up to the table and sink into your seat, pushing the glass toward Trek and swallowing the urge to cough as a whiff of acid shoots up your nose and behind your eyes.

“There she is,” he says, and quaffs the whole glass, stones and all in a single gulp. “What do you think, sweetheart?” He flashes you his hand, a triumphant sneer on his face. “Should I swap or stand?”

You hum, pursing your lips. There isn’t a card in the deck that will save his current hand. You almost want to get up and leave, just to punish him for being an idiot.

“Well,” you say, breathy and brainless, “I think you should...” You shrug your shoulders for emphasis, your arms pushing your tits together again. “Stand.”

Trek grins and angles his cards face-down. “You heard the lady. Your move.”

Ussik’s lizard leer switches between you and Trek, then to the horde of credits in the center of the table. It’s like you can hear him running the possibilities through his head—he wants to keep going. Thinks there’s no way he can lose this one. But Trek’s hot streak has him too nervous.

He folds.

“Ha!” Trek guffaws, and tosses his cards on the table. He sweeps an arm around his newest winnings. “You always were a coward.”

Ussik emits a rattling hiss, and sweeps back from the table. “Don’t call me when your luck runs out, Varcast.”

A chorus of jeers follows him away. The dealer begins organizing the table for a new round, and you draw a long breath through your teeth.

That was too close. It’s a miracle the bluff even worked, and now Trek’s high on winning, letting his better judgment fail. There’s a deep, glittering hunger to his stare when he turns to you, taking advantage of the shuffling of players to pull you close and press his lips to your ear.

“You’re gonna get fucked senseless tonight.” His breath is hot and rancid down your neck. “Covered in pretty jewels.”

“Trek!” You force a giggle, not letting your guise slip even as bile rises in your throat. You push at him playfully, but keep close enough to whisper. “Why don’t you take a break? We’re ahead, let’s not push this too far.”

No sooner can you manage the suggestion than the dealer is signaling last call, and a hush alights over the table. You straighten.

Directly across from you, the crowd has parted slightly. A tall shape now settles into the vacant seat there, hat brim concealing half of his face. Below its edge, there’s an ivory flash of fang, the shift of a toothpick.

The dealer cuts the silence. “Will you be joining us this round, mister Bane?”

A cold vise wraps your chest. The hat brim lifts, and red eyes pierce you.

“Deal me in.”

Your mouth parts, a thick web of realization congealing in your throat. It all makes sense, now—the hat, the leather, the blaster, the deferent jittery crowd.

His face hadn’t been familiar. But his name is.

Trek shoulders you aside, obsidian twinkling in his gaze. “If it ain’t Cad Bane!” he says, slamming his fist on the table. Audacity swarms him like a second skin, and he beckons for cards. “I’ll almost feel bad taking your money.”

Bane’s name is, in fact, synonymous with terror on every planet you’ve visited. And you’d just taunted him like a slut.

You swallow the realization. His attention is still trained on you.

“I never feel bad about takin’ anything,” Bane replies.

Your thighs press together. The round starts. Everyone’s focus snaps to the cards.

Beside you, Trek vibrates with glee. He reminds you of a kid waiting to prank his sibling, his victory already decided. When his turn arrives, he draws a card and nudges a few tall columns of credits to the center of the table, chuckling to himself.

“We’ll start with that, then.” His chest is puffed like a shaak’s ass.”Should be chump change for a guy like you.”

Every player peeks at Bane from behind the safety of their cards, nervous whispers creeping through the crowd. If there’s any true danger, Trek is more oblivious to it than a corpse. The toothpick twirls between Bane’s incisors. He draws a card.

“Call.”

He doesn’t even stack a credit before two players fold, distancing themselves from the table as if it’s made of flames. You glimpse Trek’s hand—with two people already out, his odds of winning with what he’s got could still improve. Pinching your lip between your teeth, you examine the abandoned cards, counting those left upturned before your eyes catch Bane’s again.

His scrutiny siphons the air from your lungs, shoots an electric thrill through your spine. Gooseflesh tickles your shoulders, and you massage it away, like the chill is from the air and not the primal flutter in the back of your brain.

“Just calling?” Trek says, swapping a card out from the pile. “You don’t wanna raise the stakes?”

Bane is nonplussed. “I got nothing to prove to a hustler.”

Trek shrugs. “Suit yourself, merc.” He collects more than half of his night’s earnings and guides them to the center. “Raise.”

Fuck, he’s going to blow every last credit on sheer pride at this rate. Idiot. Not that you care if he makes a fool of himself. It’s not your problem. But it is your money.

Two more players fold, crumpling under the high stakes and stalking away from the table to a ripple of murmurs from the crowd. That leaves only Trek and Bane remaining.

Your pulse picks up speed. From the corner of your eye, you again seek out a few abandoned cards left face up, and file the suits away in your brain.

“Call.” Bane’s voice is black ice. Your focus shifts to him, and you’re scorched again by his level stare.

To conceal a rush of nerves, you shift to peer at Trek’s cards. His hand is decent, but not worth the wager he’s set. At least, until you see his thumb shift, a signal that only you can see. His obsidian nail taps one card, and then another.

“I’d have thought a man of your caliber would bring a harder wager.” Trek taunts, a distraction from the silent communication he’s sending you. He swaps one of his other cards, and then pushes the rest of his horde to the center of the table. “Raise.”

Your pulse climbs. Of course, he wants to seal his victory with something unbeatable–an Idiot’s Array. And he can do it with what he’s got. All he needs is one little face card that now burns like a brand against your flesh, resting concealed under your dress.

“Man of my caliber don’t need two sets of eyes.”

Bane’s stare is burning you again, unbreaking when he calls the raise with another stack of credits. Your breath shortens.

“Who, this little minx?” Trek turns and brings a rough hand down on the inside of your thigh, eyes glinting. “Her skills are best employed at the end of the night, if you catch my meaning.”

His grip slides up your leg, pushing your dress up with the movement. You squeal at his boldness and swat him away, batting your lashes to the table in mock embarrassment when a few whistles rise from the crowd. As you pretend to yank your dress back down, two of your fingers slip under the hem and free the card from the band of your underwear. You tuck it under your palm.

The theatrics are typically enough to throw almost anyone off your scent. After all, Trek is naturally obnoxious, and you’re naturally gifted at playing dumb. With the final adjustment in your seat, you survey the table. And your stomach twists.

Bane isn’t just watching you. He’s inspecting you. Under the rim of his hat, his eyes narrow, a hunter’s confirmation that you’re his game. He’s tracked your every move. Probably registered the card pull, too. A soft breath hitches in your throat, and your belly tightens. Somewhere below your waist, something stirs with agitated heat. Your gaze drifts over his long, nimble fingers—you wonder what they’d feel like on your skin.

Clearing your throat with a demure giggle, you break away, ignoring the warmth flooding your cheeks, the back of your neck. You need to focus.

“Taking a while to take your turn.” Trek leans back. “You afraid of losing?” His voice rises in mockery. “Is that not something that happens to you often?”

Bane couldn’t look more unamused if someone had just told him everyone he’d ever loved was dead. But that might’ve already been true, anyway.

“Interesting game you’re runnin’,” he says. “You could walk away now with all those credits.”

“Walk away?” Trek replies. “When I have you on the ropes?” He nudges you, knocks you a bit off balance in his excitement. “How many people get to say they bested Cad Bane? Huh, baby?”

Finally, Bane swaps a card. Pauses. Then pushes forth another big stack of gold. “Raise.”

Trek frowns. “Call.”

“You ain’t got any credits left.”

“Oh, now you’re desperate. Trying to get me to bow out.” Trek laughs, invites the crowd forward. He’s getting louder. “Who wants to see Cad Bane lose a game of Sabacc?”

You swallow, try to busy yourself with the hem of your dress. Normally, you’d feel confident with The Idiot card in your hand. But Bane’s unshakable coolness makes you believe that Trek doesn’t pose a threat. Given the cards you’ve spotted, you think you know—Bane’s capable of an Idiot’s Array, too. And since he’s caught you counting, he knows that you know, too.

Trek’s about to blow your entire payment. Asshole.

Plastering your face with a saccharine innocence, you tug Trek’s arm like a sleepy ingenue.

“Trek,” you murmur, “I’m tired. Maybe we should take him up on his offer.” You trail a nail down his bicep. “Head back to the room with all those jewels?”

Snorting, Trek eases you free. “You can’t tell me you want to get out right when we’re at our big break?”

“Listen to your little assistant,” Bane says. “Unless you’re gonna call.”

“You keep saying that,” Trek says. “I don’t have an assistant. I have company.” He pauses, then offers a patronizing smile. “If you’re so jealous, I’ll toss her into the pot. One night with her.”

You balk, jaw dropped. “Are you—”

The words that want to come out aren’t polite. So you bite your tongue, and look from Trek to Bane.

He is silent for a moment, seeming to turn something over in his mind. Then he sits back, perches an elbow on his armrest, and drums his fingers once on the table’s edge.

“Dunno ‘bout that.” He passes his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, the hint of a smirk beginning to twist at the corner. “How do I know she’s worth my wager?”

Trek chuckles, then gestures to the crowd. “I think any man here would pay the same, if he could.”

A ripple of agreement goes through them, and the hairs on your neck raise. Normally, you’d revel in the attention. But you can’t assess Bane’s angle, and that unsettles you. Compounded with feeling like a fathier at auction, you almost prickle. And then Trek turns to you again, eyes glazed with greed.

“Get up and give us a twirl, baby, show the man what he’s betting on.”

Your blood sizzles the underside of your skin, and you try not to gawk at him. There aren’t enough curses in enough languages to span where you want to tell Trek to go fuck himself to right now, but there also isn’t enough time. You glance to Bane. His smirk has only grown, now stretching into a cruel, expectant half-smile as his full attention blazes you.

The realization snaps like a wire in your belly. He’s getting off on this. Punishing you for your earlier behavior, reveling in your humiliation. A sudden wave of arousal slams you, setting every inch of your skin ablaze while you move with leaden limbs to stand.

Until your last shred of wit finally reminds you of the hidden card still tucked under your palm.

Using your movement and the table as cover, you cross your legs and slot the card between your foot and the sole of your strappy shoe. Without breaking fluidity, you push your chair back, and rise.

Another round of whistles resounds as you step into full view and turn in a circle, managing just enough theatrics to throw in a giggle despite your insides performing a tumbling act. Trek has leaned back, the picture of a proud auctioneer, one arm raised to gesture up and down your body.

“I think she speaks for herself, wouldn’t you say?”

Oh, you could kill him.

But then your attention darts across the table. Bane’s posture is still relaxed, his long frame tipped back into his chair—but for the first time, his gaze dips below your chin.

His eyes trail over your bare, pretty neck and shoulders, linger along your clavicle, and appraise your tits, barely concealed, the shadow of your nipples poking through. Inches lower, and you know he’s imagining your belly, your hips, everything you’d flaunted before he’d sat down. This stare is no longer hunting.

It’s devouring.

A predator with prey in grasp, reveling in its last shallow breaths.

The toothpick rolls, Bane’s lip curling to reveal ivory fangs. “You got a deal.”

Murmurs ripple, punctuated by a few elbow jabs and the underhanded passing of bets. Trek’s grin stretches wider, greedier. You slip back into your chair, stomach twisting into knots.

He has no idea what he’s just done.

“That’s what I like to hear!” Trek opens his arm in a grand gesture, earning cheers of agreement. “Now let’s play.”

The ghost of a smirk still plays over Bane’s face as his attention lingers on you for a moment, then flicks to his cards. Every inch of your skin burns, and in the bottom of your brain, a terrible idea rises like a curl of steam. Your toes twitch against the hidden card.

“Shall we move to the showdown, then?” The dealer’s diplomatic tone feels lost within the cloud of static charging the air.

Your pulse drums your ribs when you watch Bane’s mouth beneath the brim of his hat, the way his lips massage the toothpick in thought. Your pulse rolls lower, that idea simmering and taking shape.

“What d’you say, merc?” Trek’s sneer saturates his voice. “Or is the wager not appealing enough for your tastes?”

Your foot slides beneath the table, drawing an unseen path to the killer across from you. Bane evaluates his hand as if Trek is a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Your wager seemed more interested in blowin’ on my dice than helpin’ you out before I sat down.”

You cross your arms on the table, avoiding the laser of Trek’s glare at your temple. He nudges you, a signal to act, but you pretend he’s accidentally bumped you and shoot him a quick leer.

He snorts. “Doesn’t matter anyway. She can do whatever she wants.” His jaw tight, he adds, “You just can’t admit you’re about to lose.”

Bane hasn’t glanced from his cards, and your foot extends further. With one final stretch, you find the inside of his leg. He flinches a millimeter, his eyes lock to yours—and he’s still, allowing you to slide upwards until you meet the bend of his knee. His attention returns to his cards.

“Maybe you can’t admit you ain’t her only option.”

“Option?” Trek throws up his hands. “I think she has all that she needs right here!” The crowd urges him on, and Trek jabs you again, harder this time under the noise. When you don’t respond, he does it again. “Right, baby?”

The edge in his voice scrapes your ears, and you frown, turning your shoulder to him. You rest the ball of your foot on the edge of Bane’s seat, nuzzle your toes just a bit between his thighs. Pulse in your throat, you wait.

“Ha! I think, I think he’s scared! Cad Bane is scared, boys!” Trek demands participation, shaking you to remind you of the play you’ve rehearsed for months. His palm is sweating. “He’s trying to play some mind game or something!”

Bane’s gaze slips down between his legs for just the shadow of a second, then returns to his opponent while he waits for the ruckus to fade.

“Let’s finish this dance, hustler.” A pointed smile unfurls under the hat brim. “Seein’ as you’re all out of moves.”

Beneath the table, cool fingers wrap over the arch of your foot. Bane’s hand slides down along the delicate skin, his touch slow and indulgent in a way that makes shivers erupt up your spine. He lingers over your perfectly manicured toes, then slides the hidden card out from beneath them.

Trek forces a smile, his laughter like shattered glass. “Out of moves?” He looks to you, eyes wide.

You respond with equal confusion, as if you either don’t know what he’s talking about or can’t find where the card went. Saturation drains from his face, and he blows a long, frustrated huff through his nose.

“Gentlemen.” The dealer interjects, tone unwavering. “Showdown, please.”

“Fine.” With a suck of his corn cob teeth, Trek throws his hand on the table. “Twenty in Flasks.”

He settles back, hands coming up to rest behind his head. The crowd swells—cheers, mutters, and whistles surrounding the table. And then all eyes shift to Cad Bane.

The hat brim cocks, and then lifts. Plasma-red certainty sucks every breath from the room, and a cruel smile curves his lips. He spreads his hand to view. Your heart thumps—you didn’t even spot the exchange. But there in the center, like a crowning jewel, sits your clandestine gift. That tiny face card.

“Idiot’s Array.”

An explosive cheer erupts around you, and Trek juts forward in disbelief, his eyes darting over the table—the cards, the credits, the jewels—like he’s watching a mirage shimmer into dust. You swallow, inching away in your seat. He’s never lost this big. Not with you.

“Bantha shit!” he roars, shooting from his seat. “Cheat! You cheated me, merc!”

Bane is cooler than a neutron star. “I gave you a chance to back out.”

The dealer moves to exchange Trek’s winnings to Bane, but Trek slams his big fist on the table, sending credits flying. You flinch, sweat creeping up your spine. You knew he’d get angry. You didn’t think he’d get violent.

“No!” He scratches at the moving pile, snatching a handful. “This is mine! These are mine—you’re not taking shit, Bane—”

“Mister Varcast,” the dealer says, “I’m sorry, but—”

Trek snarls. “No! He didn’t win! He—he must have—”

As proof, he gestures to the Idiot’s Array. His gaze hovers there. He pauses. Silent, his ears draw back, his muscles lock and his shoulders bunch. Your stomach collapses, you stumble out of your seat—he’s a storm, whirling on you with demonic fury.

“You!” Trek reaches for you and you shove him away, staggering backward. “You little—”

He tries to grapple you again, but chairs are between the two of you, Cad Bane in your periphery. Howling in rage, Trek sweeps half the table clean in one swing, credits and cards and gemstones crashing to the floor. He’s heaving, eyes wild as he prepares to clear the other side, and stalls when he spots the empty drink you’d grabbed for him.

Lip furling, he seizes the tumbler, reels back and hurls it straight at you.

Before you can scream, a red beam shatters the glass. Another slams Trek in the chest and eats a hole to his heart. He chokes, stutters, stealing a final horrified glance at you. Then his black pebble pupils roll into his skull and he topples to the table in a heavy thunk.

You exhale your relief, your throat thick with dissipating fear. Beside you, Cad Bane spins his blaster on his finger and stuffs it back in its holster.

With a sniff, he flicks his toothpick onto the body. “That’s no way to treat a lady.”

The room is silent, every onlooker paralyzed and slack-jawed. You tremble, still clutching the edge of the table, its solidity helping to calm the ringing in your ears. It’s not like you’ll miss Trek. You’re just happy to be in one piece. And for the past thirty seconds, your heartbeat may as well have stopped entirely. It awakens now in your cunt, every fiber of your body blazing to life and aching for the man rising slowly beside you.

Not one person dares to move, and that only makes your thighs clench harder as Bane moves around behind you and lays a hand on the small of your back. He reaches into his coat, then tosses a compact bundle of credits to the dealer—the only person in the room who appears unfazed.

“For the mess.” He gestures to the scattered riches. “Y’know where to send this.”

“Indeed, mister Bane.”

Bane nods once, touching a thumb and forefinger to the brim of his hat. His hand presses your back. Mind numb, you allow him to lead you, past Trek’s slumped, smoking corpse, through the stunned crowd. All the way through the doors of the grand turbolift, situated between vaulting glass panes that frame the neon cityscape outside. It’s only once the doors glide shut, seal you in a crystalline box with a killer, that your brain produces a single coherent thought.

You’re going to fuck Cad Bane.

Instead of choosing a floor, Bane scans his gauntlet against the lift panel. It chirps in recognition and you’re moving, flying high into the sky.

Even cast in the spell of night, Coruscant thrums with sleepless life, a thrumming that resonates where Bane’s hand still rests—inches above the swell of your ass. Your tongue traces the seam of your lips and your focus drifts from the horizon, to his reflection, to him.

Bane is a walking weapon, optimized for tactical violence from the rockets strapped to his boots to the apparatus plugged under his cheeks. There is no softness, no tender curve to any part of him; even his face is sharp bones and fangs. You wonder how his mouth will feel on your throat, how his body will press into yours in his bed. A thrill squeezes your chest, and you draw in a breath. He smells like petrichor and dying plasma.

From the corner of his sight, he catches you staring. His lip curls in disgust, he drops his hand from your back.

“Don’t bother performin’. I ain’t payin’.”

You blink, tilt your head. Before you can reply, the lift doors open, and your mind blanks.

Mouth parted, you enter the penthouse suite, heels clicking obsidian tile. Jet panels embedded with glowing veins jut from the walls, soaring to claim the ceiling. Doors branch off the perimeter, but before you, the room stretches out to a stone dais decorated with lavish furniture. Floor-to-ceiling panes of glass encircle it, revealing the still-thrumming city miles below.

The thrumming feels urgent, now. Throbbing.

Your eyes devour the fine decor, every glint of light refracted in crystal detailing. Even the floor feels expensive under your feet, sending a tingle from your toes all the way up your neck with each step. You come to a stop just before the shallow stairs that lead up the dais, hand stretching out to appreciate a piece of furniture.

“Touch anything, and you’re dead.”

You pause, biting your lip against the smile that tries to spread. “I don’t know what kind of company you typically keep, mister Bane. But I’m an artist, not a thief.”

“An artist.” The word withers on his tongue.

“Yes.“ Your smile wins out. “There’s an art to good strategy, wouldn’t you say?” You resume your course, finger trailing along the back of the couch, savoring the ridges in its expensive upholstery. You cast a glance back over your shoulder.

Bane is following you at a distance, tracking your pace across the room. A shiver drags up your spine.

“Remind me never to take strategic advice from you.”

That makes you scoff.

“Oh please, like you’ve never had a job go sideways.” You turn to face him with a shrug. “That moron had it coming. Everything that happened tonight went exactly by my design.” His eyes narrow almost imperceptibly at that. Almost. “Believe it or not, I keep tricks up my sleeve even you’ve never heard of.”

“That so?” He continues to stalk towards you, his path now more direct. “Well, ain’t you clever?”

You back coyly up the steps, into the wash of neon-kissed light spilling through the enormous circle of windows. After a few strides, your back presses cold glass. Bane doesn’t stop. He prowls up the stairs and into your space, only stopping once he’s close enough that your tits brush his torso with your shallow breaths. His head cocks.

“But I’m pretty sure you keep ‘em somewhere else.”

With that, he wrenches one side of your dress all the way up your thigh and over your hip, revealing at least four cards tucked into the band of your underwear.

You gasp up at him, your face plastered in theatrical shock. A giggle bubbles from your chest. “How did those get there?”

He gives a low snarl and wrenches you around, shoves you tits-first against the window and lifts the other side of your dress, baring your ass and the rest of your cache on the other hip. His fingers hook under your thong, and with a quick yank, he rips the scrap of fabric from your body. Cards flutter to the floor at your feet.

“You’re quick, I’ll give y’that.” He smooths down the curve of your ass, drawing a hiss of pleasure from you. “But only quick enough to fool those cock-brained idiots down there.”

“Teacher, teacher!” You laugh, the sound airy and provocative in your throat, and then put on an exaggerated pout. “Such criticism. Forgive me, I didn’t realize you were qualified to evaluate my tactics.”

The roll of his eyes is almost palpable.

“I ain’t got your assets—“ he gives your ass a lazy swat “—but I am faster than you.”

You can’t stop the grin that spreads. “Then maybe I can learn a few lessons from those expert hands of yours.”

In emphasis, you arch your back and wiggle your hips. Bane’s palm cracks you this time, square on one asscheek, earning a tiny squeal.

“I’ll make sure of that.”

Excited air escapes you. “Fuck…”

“Just one thing I can’t figure.” The rumble of his voice against your spine makes you shudder. “What d’you get out of throwin’ the game?”

“Well, if I played my cards right…” You hum, trying to lean into his touch. “I’ll be reaping my reward very soon.”

Bane snorts, his breath washes your neck with gooseflesh. “Hope it’s better’n credits, ‘cause I already told you I ain’t paying.”

You bite your lip and reach backwards, trying to sense the lines of his body in order to reach your target. It doesn’t take long—you find the edge of his jacket, then the firm leather of his belt. You lay your palm flat over the buckle, slide blindly down the seam of his trousers until… yes.

His cock is straining already, hard and eager against his thigh.

“Oh, it will be.” You hum, and slide your palm down its length, over the coarse fabric entrapping him. The feeling makes your mouth water. Jaw slackening, you lick your lips. “Consider me willing to wager on it.”

A quiet, hungry sound vibrates at your back, and Bane’s grip digs you like a shock. He cups and kneads your ass, his long fingers dipping close to the pulsing heat between your legs—you fight the urge to buck into them. His other hand, cool and firm, clasps the back of your neck and flattens your face along the transparisteel. You gasp in delight, planting your palms to steady you while he tests your body’s response.

“You coulda played that Idiot’s Array,” he mutters. The hand between your legs loops around to the front of your thigh. “Walked out of here rich.”

“Yes,” you manage to reply. He’s close, so close to where you want him, need him to touch you. Your clit pulses for attention. “And you could have played that Twenty-Two you had. Ace high, Stave Flush, was it? You would have won.” He twitches against your skin—you clocked him with that. You smile. “But you took my card anyway.”

Bane’s hand slides down your thigh, groping the flesh there, stroking shivers alive through your nerves. He glides up, over your hip, and when you whine, he jerks his hips into you.

“What’s your point?” Desire is a microscopic tear in his tone. He eases back, squeezes your ass again, hard enough to spread your lips just slightly. “You offered it, didn’t you?”

You try to crane your head toward him to catch his gaze, but it’s hidden by his hat. He’s too busy studying what’s in front of him. Your cunt is swollen, tingling for anything more than what he’s offering you.

“I did.” You’re breathless now, and there’s no use in hiding it. Fire licks your cheeks, desperation growing in your center and throbbing there. “I wanted you to touch me.” Your voice is air and desire. “Did you want to touch me, Bane?”

You feel him growl out the beginning of a response, but then his finger just barely brushes the seam of your pussy. In one simultaneous moment, Bane curses, and you gasp. You’re fucking drenched, slick and hot for him already. It takes no pressure–he gives a testing advance, and dips between your folds with vulgar ease.

“Fuck,” you whine, locking your muscles down against the overpowering urge to throw yourself into him.

For once, Cad Bane is completely silent. Slowly, devastatingly slowly, his finger begins to trail up and down. It teases close to your clit, then glides back towards your entrance, repeating in a cruel game of keep-away that has you panting within seconds. Your breath fogs the window, creating little patches of frosted city light with every huff of your chest.

His movements become experimental, lingering close to your clit when your whines grow louder, circling your entrance when it makes your spine arch. Finally, one finger settles and presses there, breaches you with a delicious little stretch and sinks to its root.

You moan, and your body clenches, trying to suck him in. A low sound catches in Bane’s throat behind you. His skin is smooth and cool, gradually absorbing your heat. He draws halfway out and sinks in again, pulling a gasp and another whine from your chest.

His grip on your neck tightens and he steps closer, wedges his boot between your feet to spread them, nearly edging you off-balance. Satisfied, he drags along your walls and pushes in again, exploring the ridges of your cunt with lewd, wet sounds. Something about the shape of his finger—bulbous at the tip, the slope of his knuckles—has your cunt aching, and you tighten around him, wanting every possible millimeter inside you.

Behind you, Bane inhales sharp air between his pointed teeth and drops your neck, knocks your feet wider, pressing into you. Harsh, cold metal prods you at your shoulders, hips, ribs, his now-free hand slipping into your dress and finding your breast with a gentle squeeze. You squirm in his hold with an elated squeal, and he grumbles, flicks over your nipple, his other hand still relishing the grip of your cunt.

You reach back, grapple his hips and pin his erection against your ass. Breath escapes him in a gravelly pant, and he grinds into you, seeking friction. Dizzy, you moan, melting in his arms. Lust has flooded your brain, numbed your mouth—you can think of nothing else you want than more, more of Cad Bane filling you, stretching you, fucking you dumb.

Like he senses it, Bane slows, adjusts, teasing your entrance with two fingers. A pathetic mewl echoes in the air, and he sinks into you.

On any other occasion, you would have been irritated that you'd been so easy to read. But on this one, you’re far too desperate for the cock of a killer to care.

Bane’s rhythm starts rough, driving and curling into your pussy like a greedy beast, forcing a sob from your chest. His other hand kneads and rolls your tit, tweaks your nipple with tiny shocks of pleasure, and his cock is gouging your flesh. Pure need thickens the air, and your eyes roll, warmth glowing in your belly, rushing your thighs, your clit throbbing, pleading for release.

The last thread of your sanity strings your hand between your legs, and the moment you graze the bundle of nerves, you collapse with bliss, crying out. Bane stiffens, keeping you on your feet while he stretches against the delighted flutter of your walls, his breath deep and heavy. You manage to stand, but the rest of you is lost—lost to anything but the swirl of your swollen clit, the thrust of his fingers inside your cunt.

“Yes,” you whisper, more praise than prayer. Pleasure builds fast, your fingers circling, your desperate, soaking cunt pulsing as you rise toward your peak. “Fuck, yes…”

Bane folds over you, his breath—dry and smoky, like burnt wood—in your ear. He growls, mumbles something under his breath, too garbled in his throat for you to understand. And then he abandons your breast, slaps away your busy fingers, his own replacing them with stone silk smoothness. He ghosts your clit once, twice, feels you milk his hand—then circles it with exquisite, liquid bliss.

Cold glass against your cheek is the only sensation still tethering you to reality. You begin to unfurl, the tight coil in your belly starting to pulse and spark. Your skin feels furnace-hot, trembling as Bane’s steady rhythm hurtles you towards a peak. If there was any hesitation to his movements before, it has disappeared entirely. He’s learning your body now, making millimeter adjustments–and then a wicked curve of his fingers hits a spot inside you that makes your vision go white.

“Oh, fuck!” Each of your breaths carries a musical little moan through the top octaves of your voice. “Don’t stop…”

A mechanical growl vibrates at your neck, and his mouth drops to your shoulder, fangs brushing the skin there. The sensation crackles through your nerves, a fracture thin enough to shatter you like a plasma bolt to glass. In that moment, you fall—your knees wobble, you clutch his arms, and you explode into red-foiled fragments.

Ecstasy ruptures through your veins, an overload that shorts every muscle but the ones wrapped around Bane’s fingers, constricting and trapping him inside while he massages your clit through another wave, and another. His teeth scrape over your skin with dull, distant pain—he curses into your neck until you wilt, spent, in his hold. The remnants of your orgasm peel to the ether, leaving you a throbbing, dripping, panting husk.

City lights swim slowly back into focus, edges softened through the smudged window. Bane’s chest swells against your back. He’s still rooted inside you, unmoving, and he lingers there for several long moments before finally beginning to draw out. You gasp at the drag along your sensitive walls, bracing your palms on the glass. When he emerges, he straightens, the arm bracing you upright sliding away and letting your weight settle on the balls of your feet again. But he doesn’t step away. You can still feel his erection like wrought steel against your ass.

Cheeks awash with the heat of climax, you study his faint reflection in the window. The hat brim is a gentle curve bisecting the city’s harsh lines, his gaze downcast—his fingers are still brushing your swollen cunt, coated in your cum. You can’t help but let out a tiny giggle. A laser-bolt stare pins your reflection.

“Tastes even better than it looks.” Tattered air drags through your voice, and you feel Bane’s hips twitch against you. His eyes narrow. When he speaks, it’s through locked teeth.

“Then who’m I to deny you?”

His hand snakes forward, and before you can blink, his fingers are pushing past your lips, hooking onto the flat of your tongue and spreading the sweet, sharp taste of your juices across your palate. You moan, louder than you intend, as you instinctively wrap around his knuckles and draw him further into your hot, soft mouth, massage your tongue along the unique curve of his digits.

Bane stuffs them deeper, tickles the back of your throat, and you fight the urge to gag. Eyes rolling, you grind against the hard desire digging into your flesh, hoping to infect Bane with the same passion that grips you now like a contagion. Drool sneaks from the side of your lips, and you whimper, tasting yourself between his fingers. You hum in satisfaction, meet his gaze in the window, sealing around him with a single firm suck.

His hips jerk. Grunting, he rips himself free of your mouth and grips your hips, spins you around to face the couch only to push you over one of the arms. You fold like a bad hand, ass pointed at the ceiling and face smashed against the plush cushion.

“Y’re a demon, girlie.”

Bane’s voice is shredded with lust, now. Behind you, his belt buckle releases with a soft metallic clink.

Blood floods your face and cunt with heat. You aren’t going to be the first or last woman fucked on this penthouse couch—but with any luck, you’ll be staining the fabric for months to come. You turn your face to the side and grin.

“What a fitting pair that makes us.”

He grunts, and you feel a firm head prod at your slit before slicking itself in your wetness. You hold your breath, bracing for his cock. When he pushes in, he forces it all from your chest. The stretch is an entirely new landscape—slippery ridges roll into you, stroke your walls in delicious interval—and on top of it, he’s big, thicker than a man of his frame has any business being. You whine, dig your nails into the couch, and Bane’s pelvis hits your ass.

The shape and sensation of his cock has you halfway wound, and you want him to spin you up and unspool you, want to be fucked oblivious. You tighten around his cock, feel it throb in kind. Drool fills your mouth. Anxious, you rock your hips back, goading him deeper. His eyes flash with a hesitant excitement and the corner of his lip curls, revealing a fang.

“Shoulda known you really wanted this,” growls Cad Bane. “You got a terrible Sabacc face.”

Stars, why can’t he just shut up and fuck you? It’s like there’s some tiny, invisible tether sustaining his resolve. Something ready to fracture under a pinpoint of perfectly-aimed pressure.

Fishing remnants of your intellect from the haze flooding your brain, you smile over your shoulder, gaze half-lidded. To anyone else, Bane might appear unreadable. But to you, an expert in catching millimeters of movement, in spying tells from species across the galaxy, his own has become clear.

“Mm, pardon my curiosity, mister Bane.” You rock forward and press back again, letting him feel your pussy split open again on his cock. “I’d always heard that bounty hunters were a terrible fuck.”

He snarls. Two strong hands encircle your thighs and jerk you back. He snaps into you. Your eyes find your brain, your body finds purgatory.

Bane exhales the fragments of his restraint, slides out, the ribbed surface of his cock earning little gasps from you with each dip before he pushes in again. Another groan, another thrust, and another, and another, and Bane is driving into you, shackling you in place with his fingers, your stattacoed pleasure blending into a long, laboring moan.

At this point, you’ve had a fair share of nun-human cocks inside of you. But there’s something about Bane’s—the shape, the girth, the slick, almost wet slip of his skin—that ignites a warm, addictive shiver through your thighs, makes your cunt spasm with every thrust. Behind you, he grunts, shifting over you to pump deeper, his breath rattled by that mechanical purr.

You scratch the couch, arching your back, rolling your hips to meet him in tandem. Under the broken melody of your pleasure, he fucks you with shameless, quickening percussion. Your clit tingles to life, saliva pooling in your cheeks and leaking to the couch. Bliss is sweeping you into a storm, unmooring you from reality, and you can do nothing more but plead to drown. Gasping, you bounce your ass against him, wanting, needing, begging for more.

And then his pace slows again, evading your desperate thrusts and drawing an utterly pathetic sound of protest from you.

“Oh, everything not going by your design, little lady?” Bane coos above you, before his hand bunches around the back of your dress, voice turning hard and cruel. “You ain’t had enough?”

He slams into you, forcing a scream, cut short as he yanks you toward him. The force rips the delicate fabric, pops the straps at your shoulders, and you collapse forward, smacking the cushions. Before you have a chance to mourn your dress, he pulls out, flipping you with surprising strength, and shoves you forward on the couch.

Mind in a spiral, you only have a split second to process the sight—Bane crosses and looms over you, his cock now swinging into full view. Each ridge is swollen and flushed green, lined at the base with nubs that leak a pearlescent substance. That same substance still coats your pussy, and when you swirl your clit with it, a strangely potent pulse of pleasure zips straight up your spine, making your head go fuzzy.

Bane grips his cock, slicks that substance from base to swollen tip with a hiss and lines it up with your entrance. Bracing himself, he pushes in, piercing you with a sharp thrust.

You cry out, suck in a shuddering moan while your core clenches in delight, all too happy to be fucked numb. Above you, Bane traps a groan in his throat, and you bite your lip. At some point, his hat fluttered to the floor.

Like this, you can hear every trip of his breath, watch his jaw lock with pleasure, smell the spice of danger laid into his skin. His hips piston, cock driving in again and again, stretching you deeper with each plunge. The storm has captured you, eradicated rationality. In its onslaught, you throw your arms around him. All you can do is want.

Bane snarls and pins your throat, forcing distance between you again. The pressure blurs your sight, thumps in your temple and mingles with the electric fuzz in your brain while he fucks into your cunt—a throttled gurgle escapes, the sensation of his cock, his pace, his presence more inebriating than any drink you’d been served. Your thighs tremble, your fingers curl, the heat in your belly blazes, tightens.

“Fuck yes,” you manage to sputter. “Bane—”

He squeezes your throat. “Quiet.”

Your jaw slackens, and you swallow your words, drool and primal noise filling the void. Under it, you can hear Bane’s voice crumbling into ragged, soft panting—he pounds you, his fangs bared, your bodies rocking the couch across the tile. Your clit is sensitive, aching, every smack of his hips coating your folds in his fluid and somehow driving you closer, closer to orgasm.

Stars, you want to cum on him, you want to grip and pulse around his length and milk him until he’s spent, you want him to ruin your pussy. There is no reality that exists to you without him, without his cock.

The hand at your throat squeezes again, shooting stars into your sight. You nod with a whine. He drives deep, his cock so swollen you feel the urgent throb of its ridges as they breach your cunt, the grating desperation leaving his chest—as if to urge you before him, he crushes your breath, hammering deep, hitting parts of you that explode behind your eyes.

A whine becomes a groan becomes a scream, pulsing heat subsumes you, and erupts in blinding white light. It pours out in strangled sobs from your chest, overflows your skin in currents of electric gooseflesh. All of you constricts, pulsing in powerful waves that can’t find a way to break. Bane is silent as you cum, his pace remarkably steady through the longest orgasm of your life—until you’re halfway cognizant, quaking in aftershocks and gaze fluttering open.

The pressure leaves your throat. You gulp in oxygen, vision still grey around the edges and skin still vibrating in time with your abused cunt. Your walls seize as Bane’s cock pulls out, leaving you vacant.

He is a cerulean shape in your periphery, moving—without a chance to recover, you find yourself yanked off of the couch by the back of your neck and shoved onto your knees.

Eyes hazy, you look up at Cad Bane standing above you. One hand grips his cock, pumping it millimeters from your face, the other still hooked around the back of your neck. Dazed and compliant, you default on instinct. Your mouth falls open, tongue laid over your bottom teeth and brows pinching together in a final, silent plea.

Red burns down on you, curses flying from between his locked teeth. Bane fucks his fist, his hips jerk forward, and with a mechanical roar, he cums.

It hits you across your nose, forehead and tongue. It’s not only the taste of it, it’s the texture—it’s slick, warm. That same static tingles your tastebuds. Groaning, your sight goes white, and you swirl it in your mouth, let it slither down your throat. Bane is motionless, panting, a study of a man gilded in satisfaction.

There’s a mirrored bliss roiling inside of you, too, fat with glee that you can say you’ve fucked one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy, that he split you open on his cock, that he smothered your face with cum.

Bane squeezes the last few beads from the tip, twitching in sensitivity, and smears them across your lips. His slit gaze maintains a shackle hold on yours, and you grin, slipping your sticky tongue out to gather every single drop. You swallow it and gasp, opening your mouth to show its cleanliness like it’s the climax of your performance.

But really, despite Bane’s suspicions, it’s entirely sincere. Unlike most of your encounters, you haven’t performed since he guided you to the lift.

Easing back onto your heels, Bane is silent, tucking himself away before grabbing his hat from the floor and dusting it clean. The casual whisk of his hand—the knowledge that it was just inside of you—is almost enough to make you see if you can convince him into another round. Catching a glimpse of yourself, you notice your tits hanging free, the sheen of sweat in the dim light, the errant remnants of cum adorning your skin.

Getting clean is your first priority.

“Mind if I use the refresher?” The answer doesn’t matter to you—you’re already slinking to your feet and letting the tatters of your dress fall like ribbons around your hips. Better to start early.

His laser stare pierces your back while you find the master suite, hesitating before you dip beyond the door. Maybe you’re toying with him, but you’re almost surprised when he doesn’t fight your violation of his privacy. Until you glance around the room and notice how large, how pristine, and how utterly empty it is of life.

No luggage, no belongings. The bed isn’t even touched.

Humming to yourself, you head to the refresher, skating your fingers along the cool chrome-lined counters. Grabbing one of the folded towels, you carefully dab it along the last bits of Bane’s cum, wiping the smudges of makeup that have pooled at the corners of your eyes. After all, if you’re going to try for round two…

The state of affairs: your hair is chaos, pressed to your skull in wild ways, your lips plump, face shimmering with a mixture of semen and perspiration. The evidence of Bane’s teeth throb at your shoulder, the evidence of his cock pulses between your legs. Your thighs still tremble, the flesh there buzzing from whatever magic his species deals in.

Spotting a cleanly folded robe, you grab it, tucking yourself into it and leaving it open at the chest. With each step, your tits jiggle and sway, enough exposed to entice the imagination. You’re not exactly sure what he finds most exciting about you, but you figure that betting on all of it won’t hurt.

After messing with your hair until it decides to cooperate, you glide back to the main room, still floating on the cloud of being fucked to an inch of your life by a killer.

Across the room, Bane is tapping his commlink, ending a call he’d apparently just been on. Without acknowledging you, or saying a word at all, he inventories his weapons and taps buttons on his bracer before heading toward the docked ship outside of the penthouse balcony. You frown.

All of that, and he won’t even notice how great your tits look in this robe?

You clear your throat. “Tapping out so soon, cowboy?”

Bane sniffs. “Got a job.”

You fight the urge to droop. You feel like a plucked porg.

“A job?” You gesture at the robe. “What am I supposed to do, then? I don’t exactly have any credits right now. Or clothes.”

That red laser gaze nails you a final time. The corner of his mouth is curled, you swear, in the smallest smirk.

“Ain’t you an artist?”

Two fingers brush the tip of his hat, the only farewell you receive before Bane heads toward the dock, hopping into the ship. A second passes before the engines whirr alive and the craft speeds off into the dark, busy night of Coruscant. You hold your breath until its lights melt into the city’s own starscape.

Lip twisting, you stare at your very still tits, surveying the empty penthouse suite. With an exhale, you sink into the couch, spying the puddle of drool you’d left on the other cushion. Your fingers drift absently between your legs, finding the remains of Bane’s secretions there. You drag a bit of the syrupy material over your abused clit, feeling the nerves inexplicably surge to life once again in pleasant tingles.

Whatever the fuck you’re supposed to do now, at least you have until the morning to figure it out. In the meantime, you’ll enjoy your accommodations.

And your own company.

#cad bane smut #cad bane x reader #cad bane #TO THE TWO PPL WHO READ THIS HOPE U LIKED IT <3 <3 <3 #cad bane fanfiction

[echoedcrosshairs]

Just Cad / Cad Bane x F Reader

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

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

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

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

Word count: 3.1k

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

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

"Nuff'in."

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

"Dat ain't it."

"So tell me!" you said impatiently.

"Droppin you off."

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

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

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

"Ya betta off."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What was dat?" Bane growled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Betta find her fast before dey leave."

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

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

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

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

Boba hitched an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

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

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

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

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

"Only to a select few."

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

"Whatss iss it?" Bossk hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't know what?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Bessst be leaving," Bossk hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

"Mr. Bane?" Todo asked.

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

"That sshould buy uss time," Bossk hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why'd ya do it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Duros chuckled, “Maybeh.”

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

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

“What do have you have to think about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

#cad bane fic #cad bane x you #cad bane fanfic #cad bane x female reader #cad bane x f reader #cad bane x reader #space cowboy #cad bane thots #duros #duros x you #bad batch cad bane

[johnsjackolantern4902]

Cad tricks you

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

"What's up?" You asked.

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

#cad bane #cad bane x reader #cad bane x gn reader #star wars #smut #jack writes

[andy-solo1]

The First ‘I Love You’ - The Bounty Hunters

Featuring: Cad Bane, Bossk, Embo, and Din Djarin 

Warnings: mild violence that comes with bounty hunting [Bossk and Din] 

- - - - - - 

ℭ𝔞𝔡 𝔅𝔞𝔫𝔢

Bane wasn’t known for being soft. He was the most notorious and best bounty hunter in the galaxy, and for good reason. However when he met you, things started to change. He’d come around and visit you in his time between jobs. He wouldn’t easily admit to falling for you, so you’d have to say it first before he could even begin to think of it. 

“I love you.” You whispered to Bane softly one morning. You were still half asleep but when you heard him slipping in through the window you’d always leave open for him you just couldn’t help the way your heart soared. You confessed your feeling to the Duros without a second thought. 

Bane tensed at your words. An odd part of him felt warm? at the the words, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Feelings were something foreign to him before he met you and even now he was no expect and certainly no good at admitting them even to himself. 

Eventually he calmed himself enough to climb into bed next to you and as you curled up against him, starting to drift back off to sleep you can hear him mutter “Maybe I love you too. But I ain’t quitting my job.” 

_____________________________

𝔅𝔬𝔰𝔰𝔨

Bossk is a lot more willing to be open about his feelings than Cad Bane is, at least when he’s alone with you. He does have a reputation to uphold. However, when working with him on jobs, sometimes you do something so surprising to him that he just can’t hold back the odd display of affection in his pride for you. 

You and Bossk were working on a job with Boba and a few others. You knew Bossk liked looking out for the kid and were happy to help out whenever the youth needed an extra team member. 

This latest mission had gone bad however and you were all in a fight to get out. You heard someone yell your name and glanced back to see the ship starting to lift up, everyone on your team scrambling to get back to it. The people shooting at all of you were still coming towards you as well though. Hearing someone yell your name again and telling you to get moving, you unclip a detonator from your waistband and throw it into the crowd of people before running to the ship and jumping to catch the ramp. 

Bossk helped to pull you up just before the detonator exploded, throwing chaos into the group below, allowing you all a clean getaway. 

“Oh I love you.” Bossk laughed, surveying the carnage below as the ramp began to raise. You raised a brow as you looked at him, grinning as the trandoshan finally seemed to realise what he’d said. 

“Love you too big guy.” You replied happily. 

______________________________

𝕰𝖒𝖇𝖔

Embo’s way of showing how he feels isn’t with words. He could tell you how he feels, but he’d much rather show his love with little things. Once he realises he loves you, he’s willing to admit it to himself and does things to show you how he cares. 

He’d bring you back small gifts or trinkets from jobs he’s done and worlds he’s visited. He’d use time in between jobs to just spend time with you, or if you wanted, to bring you someplace new in the galaxy you hadn’t been to show you. 

You’d catch on pretty quick to his expressions of feelings and if you return the feelings (I mean how can you not) you try to do small things for him too. Whether it be leaving out a dish for Marrok at all times, or even trying to learn more about Kyuzo culture to surprise Embo. 

Either way, your love language is in gifts and small surprises for one another, though if you need to hear him say the words, Embo would be more than happy to let you know. 

______________________________

𝕯𝖎𝖓 𝕯𝖏𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓

Din knew pretty early on that he had fallen for you. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to drag you along for the life he lived and he wasn’t sure he was ready to show you who he truly was under the helmet yet either. 

You were never really an official couple. He brought you on to help with repairing his ship and watching over the kid, and anytime people saw you together they assumed you were a couple, and neither of you ever bothered to correct them. You both knew what you were and neither of you ever really wanted to push the other into something further. 

However one day Din came back from a bounty gone bad. Innocent people had gotten hurt and the bounty had gotten away. When he boarded the Razor Crest he heard the sounds of laughter and followed it to find you sitting with the child playing catch. 

You were tossing the ball from one of the ships controls towards the child who caught it with the force and  threw it back to you the same way, laughing happily as he did so. The sight warmed Din’s heart and he knew then that he could never let you go. 

“I love you.” He blurted and you turned to look up at him smiling. 

“Well the kiddo certainly loves you too. How was the hunt?” You asked, tossing the ball back to the child once more.

“I was talking to you.” He says, ignoring your question and you look up at him, still smiling, though this time, perhaps a little brighter.

“Oh. Well, I certainly love you too.” 

#cad bane #cad bane x reader #bossk #bossk x reader #embo #embo x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #x reader #reader insert #star wars

[my-sun-m00n-and-stars]

Cad Bane and Kiara Scarr

A piece of wonderful fanart drawn by @flsalazar, for my Cad Bane fic.

I'm completely speechless. Thank you so much for your talent!

Read the fic here on AO3!!

#cad bane #cad bane x reader #cad bane x oc #star wars #duros #fanart

[sinisterexaggerator]

[ sick till I see you ] - cad bane

Summary: Cad Bane has had a tough time of it. He comes to you for a little TLC.

Gn! Reader

Warnings: None, just a little nip, lick, cuddling, and a worn out Duros looking for love, A.K.A FLUFF.

Word count: 1.5+

Notes: Wrote this last night half asleep, no real editing. Sorry if it sucks. Based on an idea we talked about in the Duros server because we're all feeling so tired. ;_; (@deepbluespace4, @renek-bane, @judathian)

There was something calming in your touch that remained unspoken. Cad Bane would never spill his secrets, though it was quite apparent he had grown accustomed to a comfort only you could provide. You were a steadying force in this harsh galaxy, someone the Duros could rely on from time-to-time, as his visitations were sporadic, yet he would reappear when you least expected it.

Tonight was such an occasion, the hunter floundering on a bounty the likes of which could have afforded him a lengthy stint of relaxation. He had taken on more jobs as of late to offset the price of fuel. It had risen exponentially since the forming of this new, “Galactic Empire,” and Bane was not amused. It ate into his profits more often than not, so the loss of this particular mark was an unfortunate stroke of rotten luck.

The one good thing to come of this was the target had been right here on Canto Bight.

A casino city, Canto Bight was a playground for the rich and famous, the arms-dealers, the shady business tycoons, the corrupt politicians, and the pirates, the scoundrels, the gamblers. You were none of these things. You were a cocktail server with a small flat to call your own in a shady corner of the city. Without you and others such as yourself, a place like this would go under in no time. Your job was essential.

It was also exhausting.

On your day off, you lounged with a good novella on your datapad, feet kicked up upon your worn caf table. You were just getting to a good part when a shadowy presence out of the corner of your eye startled you back to reality: you were not alone.

It should have been obvious. This was not the first time the wily Duros had found his way inside your home without warning or an invitation, yet it never ceased to surprise you.

You quietly rummaged in the side table situated by your sofa to extract a hidden holdout pistol. You carried this with you as you ventured deeper into your own house.

The hall was clear, so was the refresher. The kitchen was adjacent to the entryway, and you were already sure of it being vacant. That only left one place: your bedroom.

You crept to the door, weapon clutched in your hand. Peering inside, you were shocked and relieved to find the man face down, his thin, lanky limbs stretched out in an almost comical fashion.

Cad Bane had decided to sprawl out, taking full advantage of the situation as his body formed an “X” in the middle of your mattress. His floppy, ostentatiously large hat covered the entirety of his head, creating a leather halo that hid both his intentions and his temperament, while his armorweave duster had feathered out around him to give him the appearance of having wings.

It was an odd display, one that was not customary, but you would not judge your intermittent lover for his behavior.

It warmed your heart that he felt comfortable enough with you that he allowed himself to drop his guard, and it was a testament to your sometimes unorthodox relationship. But you found you wanted to go to him, to see what the matter was, to ease whatever suffering he must be feeling, and to comfort him in a way you knew he enjoyed.

“Bane?” your voice called out apprehensively. There was no response but a slight shifting of his weight, a deep groan rising from the pit of his chest as it rumbled to the surface, though masked by the compression of his entire face against your sateen sheets. You approached deliberately, suddenly feeling silly for holding onto your palm-sized blaster.

He was a danger, but not to you.

You set the pistol onto your dresser, bending at the knees to sink down to the floor at your bedside, one hand instinctually lifting to gently raise the corner of his hat.

Two searing red eyes stared directly at you. You involuntarily gasped, so stark was the contrast of their fiery depths to the dark coloration of your coverlet. They narrowed when you did not move again, the expression across your face not being one that Bane favored as he had been sure you would receive him with open arms. The Duros did something quite uncharacteristic: he pouted, his scant lower lip cresting downward into an obvious frown.

“Ah cahn see when Ah’m naht wanted,” he began, pushing up with both arms to rid you of his presence.

“Wait, no!” you said a little too forcefully, Bane settling back down as he gazed at you with an arch to his brow. “Don’t go,” you finished more softly, gingerly taking up the curve of his mandible in the crook of your hand. “I don’t want you to go.”

The Duros rasped out a hiss, though it was a release of tension, Bane’s eyelids falling to half-mast. That outward breath extended for what seemed like minutes; he loved the warmth of your skin, the smell, the taste…   

He reached out, shifting to a position that would allow him to help you up, though you were capable of standing on your own. But that is not what he wanted. He manipulated you to sit, convincing you with no more than a tug to your clothing that this was the very thing you should do because he deemed it so.

You entertained him, adjusting yourself to accommodate his nonverbal demand.

Once you were comfortable, the deadliest apex predator of the entire known galaxy buried his rostrum in the meat of your thigh as sinewy digits encased in cut-off gloves snuck beneath the single layer of thin fabric that made up your shirt.

Bane’s touch was icy, a small sound being emitted from your lips as goosebumps prickled up and down your body. This only seemed to excite him, lengthy arms wrapping around the whole of your waist as you realized his excessive accessory was in your way.

You took a chance; you removed his hat, placing it thoughtfully on your bedside table as the Duros curled into you, resting his cheek against your lap as the flat part of his face nuzzled its way into your belly.

Of all the things that could occur at this moment, Bane took up a fetal position, making himself cozy as he squeezed you tightly. You could not help yourself, knowing Bane would appreciate your efforts. You took to caressing him with a calculated touch despite his flesh being enwrapped in protective hunting gear, fingers running the course of his neck and shoulders. You massaged him tenderly, applying just enough force to hear a most gratifying sound.

Some might call it a purr, while Bane himself would call you crazy for suggesting such a ridiculous thing. Still, it only encouraged you to continue, and especially once the Duros had dug his way under the hem of your top, sharp teeth biting and tugging so as to maneuver it out of his way.  

You held your breath, not out of worry of being bitten, but because his shallow exhales licked at your skin making you shudder, a part of you deep inside stirring though you chose not to let it control you, at least not yet.

“Ah’m sick till Ah see ye’” he mumbled against your now bare stomach, “chucked all of a heap,” he added, grazing you with the points of his fangs as he enveloped you in the tangle of his limbs.

“What’s wrong, Cad?” you prodded, only concerned with his mental well-being as it was rare he searched out this level of affection, though that was not to say his words and actions did not move you, a faint blush tinging your cheeks.

“Tired,” he muttered, that vibration in his chest growing louder as his olfactory organs were overtaken with your delicious scent, “karked up,” he finally admitted, his damaged pride apparent in his tone. “Gettin’ old.”

“Nonsense,” you whispered, your thumb lovingly tracing the lines etched across his forehead as you attempted to sate his nerves. “What happened?”

He did not answer, your breath catching as you felt his tongue worm its way into the divot of your navel. He growled as if hungry, his fangs finally pressing against you, though he was kind enough not to bite down hard. He sucked the salt off your skin, licking up from your belly button to the base of your sternum, your body convulsing unwillingly beneath his sudden amorous onslaught.

He stopped just as soon as he started, teeth retracting and rostrum once again rough and scaly against your abdomen. He was reluctant to reply. “…don’ wanna talk about it,” he stated gruffly, shutting his eyes against the universe as well as against you.

“Then what do you want?” You coaxed him for an answer, not expecting the thing he wound up saying next.

“Dhis,” he offered casually, encircling you more succinctly in his embrace.  

If you had been a gambling kind of person, you would have lost, not imagining that in a million rotations Bane would confess to desiring your … cuddles.

You would not disturb him after that for fear of backlash, the notorious, murderous bounty hunter taking to your lap like an overgrown tooka as you settled in for the long haul, incapable and hesitant to move from this spot until he had his fill.

---

Masterlist

**reblogs / feedback appreciated!!**

#Cad Bane #Cad Bane x Reader #Cad Bane x Gn! Reader #gender neutral reader #star wars #duros #bobf #book of boba fett #clone wars #tcw #bad batch #tbb #bounty hunters need cuddles too #fluff

[masteroffearshusband49020]

Cad Bane save me

Cad Bane

Save me Cad Bane

#cad bane #shitpost #star wars #cad bane x reader

[wolveria]

This has been by far the hardest ask I've ever sent, I'm still not fully convinced you didn't ban mobile-me or something 💀😂

Technical issues aside, to the actual ask!

There is a lot there I'm curious about! I'm not even touching Umbara tho, no thanks, still not over it the winner is: Western AU outline! 👀 I'm in a yeehaw mood 💜

LOL I don't know why my tumblr wouldn't let you send an ask. I swear you're not banned!

The Umbara one is actually funnier than you would think. It's an abandoned wip at this point, but I still think the premise is just weird enough to be interesting. It's an isekai fic where the reader wakes up on Umbara during that arc, knowing everything that's going to happen and trying to prevent it. I just really wanted an excuse to meet real life Fives and be surrounded by clones

The Western AU! It's a Cad Bane x Reader fic, so I'm not sure how much you'd be into that XD I haven't gotten far with it yet, so I'll just give you a quick rundown of the plot:

Reader gets held up during a train robbery by the outlaws Moralo Eval and Cad Bane. Eval decides he likes her as his prize, and Bane doesn't have time to argue the point about taking hostages.

They tie her up and take her with them back to their camp. Eval wants to "claim" his prize, and Bane tells him to knock off with that shit.

Eval doesn't, and Bane shoots him.

Reader expects she'll be next, but instead, Bane gives her Eval's horse and tells her to leave. He'll have moved on by the time she can alert the law, and now he gets to keep all the loot for himself.

"Ain't no use shootin' a pretty lady. Waste of a sweet, warm body."

So he's not exactly a gentleman, but he doesn't hurt her, and he lets her go. She keeps thinking about that, even after she finds a nearby town and tells the sheriff (with very poor directions back to the camp), and even after she returns home, safe and sound. To a cold house and an even less warm husband.

She thought that was the last she would see of the outlaw, until one night when she notices a light on in the barn.

#cad bane x reader #star wars #western au #star wars western #outlaw cad bane #doublesunsets #that's as far as i got but pretty much reader is going to run off with a sexy outlaw

[averagehorrorgirl]

Masterlist

Work in progress 💕

Newest: Angel Wings Pt 2 2) I saved your fucking life (soap x reader) 3) Forged in War ( General Grievous x sith reader)

¤ Legend ¤

Fluff: 💫

Smut: 🔥

Angst: 😨

Author favorite: 💕

• Movies/Shows •

- Avatar -

Miles Quaritch x reader

- Marvel -

Zemo x reader: Angel wings [pt 1] [pt 2] 💫😨🔥

- Slashers -

Michael Myers:

Bleeding Boogeyman

Teach me, go fuck yourself

- Star wars -

Clones:

Commander Wolfe x Padawan Reader

Captain Rex x Padawan Reader

Jedi:

Sith:

Darth Maul x reader: Ferocity

Darth Maul x reader: Laced Chains

Dooku x reader

Darth Maul x reader: I was there from the beginning 😨💫

Savage Opress x reader: Darkness takes all 😨

Savage Opress x reader

Bounty Hunters:

Cad Bane x Senator reader: I don't follow you

Bossk x reader

Boba Fett x fallen Jedi: I told you [pt 1] [pt 2] 💫😨🔥

Din Djarin x reader: Flinch

Jango Fett x reader + Cad Bane

Others:

General Grevious x sith reader: Forged in war 😨💫

- Extra -

Army of the dead (Zeus x reader): Death wish

• Video games •

- Call of Duty -

Ghost

Wired Hideaway

Soap

I Saved Your Fucking Life 😨💫💕

- Dead by Daylight -

Deathslinger (Caleb Quinn):

Just an old cowboy

Legion (Frank Morrison):

Picking up the pieces

Pyramid Head:

Simple Kindness

Pinhead (Elliott Spencer):

Chains that bind us

Trickster (Ji-Woon):

I can treat you better

Vittorio:

Kissed by fire

#star wars the clone wars #star wars x reader #star wars #clone troopers x reader #jango fett x reader #cad bane x reader #boba fett x reader #slasher x reader #marvel x reader #avatar x reader #dead by daylight x reader #cod x reader