#boba fett let me sit in your lap please

[bluebellhairpin]

boba fett walked so din djaren could run. never forget your space daddy mask kink roots.

#boba fett let me sit in your lap please #ill be good i promise u wont even know i'm there i swear #nemos thoughts #boba fett #din djaren #star wars #the mandalorian #the book of boba fett

[daimyosprincess]

THIS TENDER LOVE

—PAIRING: Boba Fett x F!Reader

—SUMMARY: When you’re a little nervous about your first time, Boba helps you get in the right headspace.

—WORD COUNT: 2.2k

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

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, daimyo!Boba, virgin reader, implied age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is an adult), reader described as having hair, reader discovers a bit of her inner brat, some heartfelt feelings for good measure, lots of pet names per usual, Daddy kink strikes again (but only at the end)

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: I don't usually write first times but bestie @baufraus inspired me to write about a certain princess getting shy and Boba's response. Daimyo Boba is so patient and daddy I can't imagine a better person to show you the ropes 😌

Divider by @saradika

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

You’d wanted this. You’d wanted this for so fucking long. Dreamed and wished for it.

So why can’t you just open the door and go out there?

Blinking against the clean light of the ‘fresher, you frown in the mirror. It’s not like you’re some blushing virgin who just discovered the place between her legs; you’d read and even watched plenty of things that had given you a chance to start learning what made you shake and moan. And although you’ve never done most of those things you fantasized about—much less had your first real kiss—you aren’t clueless about sex. You’re just a virgin, and Boba is just a man.

A man who dotes on you, protects you, and makes you laugh. The man you’ve fallen in love with. He’s been your whole life for the past seven months, ever since your uncle included you in his tribute to the new daimyo. 

Your reflection sours at the memory of your despot relation. After you’d come of age, he got rid of you the second the chance presented itself, content to leave you at the mercy of the galaxy’s most feared bounty hunter. But Boba had been nothing like the stories the servants had whispered when they heard the news, nor had he been anything like your tyrant uncle.

No, he had been kind to you. Rough around the edges, but kind. You’d even begged him not to send you back to your planet when he informed your pilot that he didn’t keep slaves or girls in his palace. Even back then, sacred and naive, you’d felt you were in the presence of a true ruler, a man who gave his word and kept it. He swore he would never hurt you, never pressure you, or let any harm befall you and you believed him. 

You still do.

So why are your feet frozen in place and the thought of going to him suddenly impossible? You’re a modest person by nature but this shock of shyness is more than you’re accustomed to, especially since you’d taken to sitting in Boba’s lap on the throne and wading in the garden pools in light dresses while he smiled at your joy. 

“Princess?”

Would you be enough? Would he find your inexperience a burden? 

He said he wouldn’t, that he was honored to be the one you trusted with your tender love. But that was before you couldn’t imagine showing your face or looking him in the eye. 

“Sweetheart? Everything okay?” his deep voice calls from behind the ‘fresher door. A hint of worry tinges his tone. “It’s not too late to change your mind, little one. I won’t be upset. This is all about you and your comfort.”

You don’t want to change your mind. You want to experience every sweet, sinful thing he has to offer. You want to learn and taste your combined pleasures. 

So why can’t you move?

Tears threaten to well in your eyes. “Boba?” your voice cracks. Tears do form now, hovering in your lashes in hot frustration.

His voice is just on the other side of the door now, thick with concern. “You want me to come in?”

“Yes,” you sniffle, dropping your face into your hands in stinging embarrassment when you hear the door slide open. Just this morning you’d been giggling and teasing, whispering in his ear on the throne how you couldn’t wait to become his—now you’re a tearful mess. Even if he doesn’t say as much, it’s surely pathetic to him. Why would a king waste his time with a sheltered princess when there are beautiful men and women whose hands and mouths already know the paths to pleasure?

His unarmored chest presses against your back and you instantly ease back into the circle of his arms, your safe and sacred space. Boba gently turns you inwards so your head can bury into his neck. You curl your fingers into the soft weave of his undershirt.

When you try to speak he shushes you with a small sound and a kiss to the top of your head. He rubs the small of your back until the tension drops from your shoulders and you slump your weight onto his.

“That’s it,” he murmurs into your hair. “Relax, babygirl.” A few heartbeats pass before his hand tilts your chin up from his shoulder. “How about we just curl up tonight? Watch one of your holos?”

A thread of urgent fire lights down your spine. “No!” Boba’s brows shoot up and you wince at your echo bouncing off the walls. “I mean, no. I want to… tonight, with you. I just…” Heat blooms in your cheeks, your previous shyness taking over once more. 

You try to return your face to your hands but Boba catches your wrists in a loose hold at your sides. His warm eyes flicker with first a thought, then a decision.

Bona leans slowly into your space, drawing out the small movement to allow you to pull away. When you remain in place, sweet and curious, he presses his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. The feel of him surrounding you, his warm smell, the feel of his strength just below his skin acts like a drug, overwhelming your senses and unfurling your desire like the first soft blooms of spring. He tends to you, encouraging your blossoming by leading your arms over his shoulders and dragging his tongue along the smooth seam of your lips.

His breathing deepens as you slide your palms over his wide shoulders, up his neck to pull him further into you. The heavy sound drips down your body in a sweet trail to your dampening core, the pant of his breath tickling your eyelashes and hairline. You had imagined what a kiss, a real kiss, would be like a thousand times. How your lover’s mouth might feel moving on yours, how your hands might roam and grab, the crushed feel of fabric and limbs seeking skin. 

Yet kissing Boba is nothing like that.

Just as dreams are mere imitations of true sensation, kissing Boba Fett is nothing like you imagined—it’s so much more. Swirls of color that materialize into touch, sounds that brush against hot skin, and the humbling reminder that you are all too human and so is he. It’s mortal and frightening and perfect. You want to open up your chest and let him in, let him taste every part of you so you can exist within someone else. 

Isn’t that what people crave? What they die for?

“Princess…”

The scraped restraint in the daimyo’s voice flickers in your belly. You wanted this, dreamed and wished for it. If you pull away now, you’ll lose it to the stifling swell of bashfulness dammed behind your kiss. You chase his retreating lips until he stalls you with a large hand on your jaw. “Easy, little one,” he soothes with a brush of his thumb over your cheek. “There’s no need to rush.”

“But I-”

“Want it?” He flashes you a white-toothed grin that has butterflies flittering through your insides. You can’t hide your face like this, so you scrunch up your toes and dig your nails into his shirt. He chuckles and kisses the tip of your nose. “Don’t even think about hiding those pretty eyes,” he gives a quick squeeze to your jaw, “keep them on me.”

Oh, the irony of having a staring problem and suddenly being unable to look at the handsome man in your arms. 

Dragging your eyes up his face, you take in every dip and crease of his bronze features, remembering how the bow of his lips and how the texture of his scars felt against your soft skin. The same skin that now feels too hot and tight. When you eventually light on his eyes, they crinkle up in another bright smile. It almost makes you squint. “They were on you,” you mumble into his silence.

“What was that?” The firm way Boba’s other hand snakes around your waist has you swallowing back the sass you were about to give him.

Where is that coming from?

“I-I said they were on you.”

Something dark shifts in his gaze. Something that makes you clench on your emptiness. He considers you for a couple more seconds, his head cocking to one side like the many times you’d seen him on the throne with his subjects. Deciding. 

When you start to squirm under his gaze, his lips quirk into a pleased expression. “You never cease to surprise me, little one.” Seeing your confused look, he continues. “You’ve got some brat in you... I like it. You stopped being so self-conscious when you ran that smart mouth.”

You suppose you had. Although you aren’t usually one to push back or act out—it was quickly punished in your uncle’s house—it did feel good to let the scrap of sass slip. Made you feel a tiny bit more powerful, more evenly matched with Boba’s strength and confidence. You test your next words on your tongue before you fire them. 

“Then show me how much you like it?” you try.

Boba’s smile turns sharp, more hungry. “One kriffing kiss and she’s already getting greedy.” 

You gasp when you feel the grind of his hardening bulge on your hip. He shifts you against him so he’s pressed against your center, rocking his hips to give you some friction. This time your eyes flutter shut in pleasure, the warm stretch of soaked fabric between your thighs catching on your clit with delicious effect.

“Not so shy now, are you, babygirl?” Boba hums low in your ear, gently sinking his teeth into your pulse point. “Just needed a little help from, Daddy, huh?” 

A white-hot streak of embarrassment scores through your chest, charring your fledgling sense of bravery. Your pulse throbs in your pussy. Now you have a very different reason to be shy: you’d never told him those secret desires you came to in your bed but he knew them all the same. 

“Shit, sweetheart,” he moans into your love-bitten flesh when you involuntarily buck against him. “Knew you liked me but are you really that desperate for an old man?”

“D-don’t be mean-”

You cry out when his hand presses between your bodies to cup your sex.

“Mmm I think you like it when I’m mean.” He grinds his palm against your clit and your knees buckle at the dizzying sparks of pleasure. “I also think your little cunt is dripping wet because you want to call me Daddy.”

The choked sound you make doesn’t hide the way your body reacts to his words. You shove your face into his shirt. “I never said that,” you grumble into the fabric. But you dreamed about it, worked yourself up and touched yourself to the thought of it.

“No?”

Boba retracts his hand and you almost cry from the loss. You don’t need to see his face to know he’s smirking and smug at your desperation, his teasing dominance playing on every one of your desires. Everything that burns you up only seems to fuel him more.

“No, please-”

“Aw, baby, you want it bad, don’t you?” His hand comes back up to your face and you can smell your arousal on his fingers. He tips back your chin, his thumb pressing against your trembling lips. His eyes sweep over you, taking in the way you’re as downy and vulnerable as fawn before a wolf, and they soften. 

Boba strokes your bottom lip gently, a small smile turning up his mouth. The crackle of electricity in the air dulls to a pleasant thrum. “You really are beautiful,” he breathes, his voice awed. Sensing your growing need, he presses his thumb into your mouth, his cock twitching against your stomach when you suck it happily. 

“It really isn’t too late if you want to wait,” he reminds you. He chuckles when you shake your head rapidly back and forth, this calloused thumb sliding across your tongue. Smiling, he removes his hand and rests his lips on your forehead. “It’s an honor, you know. To be the one you trust with this.”

As if it could have ever been someone else. Even before you came to Tatooine, it was never going to be anyone but Boba. You’d never had the desire to share your intimacy with another person until him.

“It was always you,” you whisper. It’s not a secret, but it is something precious. 

Boba buries his face into your hair, pressing you so tight to him you could melt into one. “I… I love you.”

Those three words hold a tender softness you know does not come easy to his surface. It fills you with a sweet kind of strength. 

Loosening your hold on his neck, you draw back far enough to take in his beautiful face. “I love you, Boba. I want this. Want you.” He radiates pure joy at your confirmation, as bright and golden as the twin suns above. Leaning in, you hover your lips just over his ear. “Now, Daddy please-”

You don’t even have time to squeal before he tosses you over his shoulder for the bedroom.

#zwei writes #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #this tender love fic

[runawrites-blog]

Protection (Boba Fett x Reader)

(Gif Not Mine)

Summary: Five times the people in the palace saw how protective Boba was of you and one time you got to protect him. (5+1; Gender Neutral Reader) Word Count: 3,325 Warnings: Mild Violence, Disrespectful Language Directed at Reader, Assassination Attempt on Boba, Fire, No Y/N, Petnames (Cyar'ika, Mesh'la) Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35277751

---

I.

Your place at the palace had been a topic of discussion ever since Boba had taken over Tatooine. You had been by his side from the start, arriving soon after him and Fennec. And ever since then, people have been talking. Some assumed you were his spouse, others questioned if you were a pleasure slave – and questioned why the man so against slavery was keeping you as one – and some others thought you were an advisor.

And your interactions with people at the court, diplomats on visits, and the king himself made things no clearer. You were friendly and polite to the others at court as though you were a worker like them, never seeing yourself as above them and always treating them with respect. When there were diplomats visiting, you were next to Boba, making deals and talking politics. And when there was peace and celebration at the palace, you were by his side, holding onto his arm, sitting in his lap on the throne, or affectionately talking to him.

When you weren’t around, like this time, Boba was sitting on the throne alone, Fennec next to him. She was talking to him in a low voice while he surveyed the room. Perhaps he was looking for you, some of the guests mused.

And then, you walked into the room, quickly approaching the throne. Your usual air of confidence seemed off with how fast you approached Boba to grasp his hand and sit on the arm of the throne. Boba noticed the changes in your demeanour, too, and let go of your hands to place one of his on the small of your back, pulling you a little closer until you were leaning against him.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded at Boba, a little too quickly and vehemently for it to not be suspicious. “I’m fine. I just had an unpleasant run-in with one of the guards.”

“What?” Boba hissed and let go of you to grasp at your arm and examine you. When he spotted the marks on your wrists he seemed furious and the people in the court quieted down. “Did they touch you?”

“He tried to-- tried to threaten me. He grabbed my arm and-- and held me to the wall. I managed to free myself but that other guard, she was just standing by and she didn’t help me.” You recounted, stumbling over your words. “On the contrary – she egged him on.”

“What guards?” Boba asked, grabbing your hand once again, watching your shoulders relax at the gesture. “What are their names?”

“I don’t know their names but I could point them out to you.”

“No one touches you.” He hissed. “You are my riduur and no one is allowed to treat you like that, with the intent to harm you!”

“Boba, please calm down. I’m fine.”

“Do you want them dead?”

You quieted down before slowly sliding off the arm of the throne and into his lap, arms wrapping around his arm. His protectiveness seemed to make you feel so much more at ease as you inched ever so closely.

“Cyar’ika, do you want them dead?” Boba asked one more, though his hand found its way to your hair quickly. “I will surely punish them but I want your opinion on what they deserve.”

“No.” You said softly. “I just want to be sure that I never have to see them again.”

“That can certainly be arranged.”

---

II.

You were his spouse. He had said so himself. If you two were actually married or if he just referred to you as such out of possessiveness or sentimentality was still unclear. But nevertheless, people were now sure of his romantic relationship with you. And they acted accordingly.

After the guards that had harassed you were sent away, people worried to meet the same fate and kept their distance. They could tell that it saddened you, could see the disappointment in your eyes and the way you tried to talk to the other people in the palace, but they didn’t want to risk it.

With everyone in the palace being so careful around you and trying to avoid being punished by Boba, it came to no surprise that you were delighted by the news that some sort of negotiator was coming to visit the palace. Now Boba hadn’t told you the exact reason they were coming but you knew enough about them, their plans to trade with Tatooine and their customs to entertain them during the fest that would follow the negotiations.

The people in the palace watched as you laughed away with one of the negotiators, telling her about how wonderfully Tatooine had developed since Boba had come to power. And they also watched as Boba eyed you with a fond expression, helmet on the arm of the throne and a soft smile on his face.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long until things got out of hand. A guest stumbled and fell against one of the lights that were illuminating the throne hall, kicking loose a chain of events that would lead to the room being engulfed in flames. The light broke and the fire spread over the curtains and few wooden structures, quickly lighting them ablaze. People panicked immediately, cramming to get out of the room.

“Follow me!” You instructed the negotiator. “Keep close to the wall so you don’t get pushed around.”

“Thank you.” She said and grabbed onto your wrist, letting you lead her toward the exit. “Thank you so much.”

With a bit of difficulty, you managed to get her to the door and ushered her outside. You were about to turn back to look for Boba when a cracking sound from just above you caught your attention. And you barely had the time to look up before a large wooden beam came crashing toward you. Instinctively, you cowered, covering your head to shield it but the expected blow never came.

When you looked up, you found Boba next to you, arm angled and held up, keeping the beam from crushing you. Quickly you moved away from the wooden beam and watched Boba drop it to the floor before he turned, grasping your arms.

“You need to leave.”

“What about you?” You asked desperately, trying to find his eyes through the helmet he now had on again. “You need to get out!”

“I need to help put out the fire.” He said and pushed you toward the door. “Go, get to safety and wait for me!”

Despite your initial hesitance, you left, figuring that if you were gone he would have one less person to worry about and could concentrate on getting himself to safety. Yet, no one could deny the worry on your face or the tears in your eyes as you watched more and more people leave the palace, Boba not amongst them.

And when he eventually came outside, the people of the court all watched you sprint toward him before hurling yourself into his arms. He caught you with little difficulty and held you tightly as you took a few deep breaths until he spoke up to calm you down.

“Don’t worry, Cyar’ika. I’m here now.”

---

III.

People knew that Boba was protective. So it came to no surprise that when you came back from a diplomatic mission, bloodied up and covered in bruises, he was up in arms. You had entered the throne room, the helmet you wore when flying under your arm, your hair a mess, your face covered in bruises as you looked up at the throne.

Before Boba could say anything you spoke, voice hoarse. “The diplomatic mission went well. This is simply the result of someone ambushing my ship on the way back.”

“Cyar’ika, get up here now.”

Slowly, you made your way up and everyone in the court held their breaths. Boba grabbed you as soon as you had gotten close and pulled at your arm to get you close enough to examine the wounds.

“Where are you injured?”

“Just bruises and a few scraps mostly.”

“Mostly is not good enough, Mesh’la.” He said sternly. “Anything major?”

Gingerly, you moved your hand to gesture to your hip and Boba’s eyes wandered there before he frowned. There was an obvious stab wound at your hip but your belt had been pulled so tightly that it was stopping the bleeding. Shaking his head, Boba rose to his feet and everyone around watched in anticipation.

“Fennec, take over for me while I treat these wounds.” He said and looked back at you. “You are coming with me.”

“Love, I can take care of myself.” You said softly. “I just need a few stitches and I’m sure I can find someone else to do that. You have your duties.”

“I do have my duties. And protecting my riduur is one of them.”

---

IV.

Your screams of pain jarred everyone in the throne room and within seconds Boba was at his feet, Fennec not far behind as he hurried to help. But he didn’t get far before you came scrambling into the room and when you saw the two of them, you rounded their bodies to shield yourself, fumbling for your blaster before realising it wasn’t secured to your hip and swearing quietly. While Fennec readied her gun, aiming at the door, Boba turned around to you and took hold of your arms.

“What happened?”

“That-- that man who came to negotiate who-- you turned him down and he must have been pretty angry because he grabbed me from behind and tried to kriffing-- I don’t even know what his darn plan was and I don’t want to know!”

Boba stared at you in horror, realising that a man he had let into the palace had attempted to harm you. Quickly, he drew you close, his hand shielding the back of your neck as he held you. And then the man stumbled inside, clearly drunk and a bloodied knife in his hands. He looked beaten, as though you had gotten a few good hits in before he had gotten out his knife.

And as he took in the blood dripping from the knife, Boba froze and quickly pushed you back to examine you. There was a few cuts on your arms and chest area but nothing major. Still, the knowledge that someone had hurt you like that filled him with burning rage and he called out to Fennec to immobilise the man which she did without much trouble before turning back to Boba.

“What do you want me to do with him?” She asked, holding the man’s arms behind his back and looking up at the two of you. “Shoot him?”

“Shoot me?” The man slurred. “I can-- if you hadn’t turned down my deal, your little spouse wouldn’t have gotten it, Fett!”

Fennec eyed Boba out of the corner of her eyes, watching his body tense up as he kept a protective arm around you. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“Lock him up! I’ll deal with him later.” Boba snapped and looked back at you once Fennec had begun to drag the man off. “What did he do? Did he touch you?”

“No, he just-- he got a few cuts and hits in but I’m fine.”

Boba looked at you for a long time before sighing quietly. “The man I let inside hurt you like this. How can you look at me with love in your eyes? Aren’t you angry?”

You shook your head very quickly, taking his hands into his. “It was not your fault. He attacked me. That has nothing to do with you, no matter what he said.”

“Do you need me to call someone to treat your wounds?”

“Please.”

---

V.

It wasn’t just that Boba was protective of you. He also valued your opinion and despised it when others talked down to you. If a diplomat didn’t respect you, writing you off as nothing more than the king’s spouse or if an advisor scoffed at your opinions, not considering them, Boba would reprimand them. He demanded respect for you just as much as he demanded it for himself.

Most of the time, a stern reprimand or a reminder of your position was enough to shut any disrespect down fairly quickly. But on this particular day, two negotiators had come from a faraway planet, planning on trading with Tatooine. They had talked to Boba in the throne room, laying out their demands and offerings. The other people of the court stood by, watching the negotiations go down as they quietly mused about what outcome to expect.

It wasn’t until you had chimed in, leaning down to Boba from where you had been sitting on the arm of the throne, to remind him that their demands were fairly high for what they were offering, that one of the negotiators spoke up.

“I am certain that the great Boba Fett would rather decide himself than listen to the advice of a simple pleasure slave.”

Everything went quiet as soon as the words had left the woman’s mouth. You raised your head, looking down on her while Boba straightened up in his seat and Fennec cocked her head to the side a little, waiting for the man’s response. But you were quicker.

“If I was merely a pleasure slave – which I am not – it would be horribly embarrassing for your unattractive trade offer to be caught by the likes of me, wouldn’t you think so?” You asked in a cold tone of voice.

“Boba Fett, we implore you to agree to this offer.”

“Why should he?” You asked in slight disdain. “To rely on the harvest of a planet whose climate is unpredictable at best and unfit for agriculture at worse?”

“I can assure you that our planet can sustain a harvest.”

“Is that so?” You raised an eyebrow. “Then how do you explain the countless people that have sought out refuge on Tatooine of all places after a drought or flood have wrecked their whole harvest? Then how do you explain that not even under the merciless regimes before Boba were your planet’s payments ever on time?”

“How dare you insinuate that we cannot pay you?”

“I am voicing my honest concern.” You said, mindful of everyone listening to you. “Your harvests are unreliable and you dare step before Boba with an offer like this?”

The woman shook her head at you. “I will not negotiate with a person who has found their way into the inner circle of the king by looks and no doubt the use of their body alone. I came to negotiate with Boba Fett.”

“Are you saying I used my body to get this position?” You questioned and stood from your place, aware of Boba’s eyes following you. “Or are you trying to deflect from the fact that you are offering a terrible deal?”

“How dare you? You are nothing but a pleasure slave, a common palace whore. And you dare speak to me like this?”

That’s when Boba stood, making everyone back up. The negotiator and her companion shut up, staring up at Boba in anticipation, frightened of what would happen next. He towered over them, his height accentuated by the fact that he stood on the pedestal the throne was placed on.

“How are you speak to my riduur in such a way?” He snapped, voice angry and loud. “And to think you did it because my spouse raised good points is just pathetic. Your planet is not fit for agriculture. You can barely feed your own people. There will be no trade for you with Tatooine!”

“But great Boba Fett--”

“Now leave my sight before I have you dragged out of the palace!”

---

+ I.

People knew that Boba was protective, that he was proud of being your spouse and that he seemed to genuinely care for you. But they also knew that you felt the same way about him. You loved the man, took pride in being his spouse and rarely left his side if you could help it.

Typically you could be found sitting on the throne’s arm, Boba’s lap or standing next to him. You were always trying to be close to him, talk to him or share your love for him. Like a shadow, you were always by his side.

And so you were also by his side when someone tried to assassinate him. It had been a normal day up until the early evening and everyone was gathered in the throne hall. You were as usual by Boba’s side, having long since migrated from the arm of the throne into his lap, idly running your fingers over his armour, head resting against his shoulder as he talked to you about upcoming plans.

The two of you paid little mind to the man that had entered sometime during the evening, assuming him to be another guest, and quickly gotten back to talking. Fennec had started to mingle with the people some time ago, leaving you and Boba to quietly enjoy each other’s company as he overlooked the people.

The stranger came closer to the throne, talking to a man there. You paid him no mind, still running your fingers over Boba’s armour, letting them run up and down his neck periodically as he recounted the meetings ahead.

Your eyes wandered across the room, looking at the man that was still coming closer. Some of the guests noticed the shift in your behaviour, watched as you sat up a little straighter, yet still keeping up your soft ministrations and listening to Boba.

Then, before anyone had even noticed anything, you sprung up from Boba’s lap and grabbed your blaster. No one even had the time to question your motives as you fired at the stranger, hitting his hand and making him drop the blaster he had reached for.

He tried to escape but you fired a shot into his foot, making him fall to his knees by the steps to the throne. Within seconds you were by his side, using your foot to keep in on the ground as the people stared in shock. Boba had risen to his feet and Fennec had come closer now.

“Let me go!”

“Tell me why you were raising your blaster at Boba.” You hissed. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I won’t tell you anything.”

Your foot moved, resting on his shoulders now. “You are the worst assassin I have ever had the misfortune of meeting!”

The man struggled against your foot but couldn’t get up. “Let me go!”

Huffing at his request you took your foot off his back. He quickly took the chance to get up but he only got to his knees because you quickly grabbed his arm, twisting it onto his back and then doing the same with the other one. Then you turned him so he could face Boba.

“Did you or did you not come here to assassinate Boba?”

“I-- I was forced to!” The man pleaded. “Please, don’t kill me. I was just-- I was forced to or otherwise, my family would have been in danger!”

“Now there’s the information we can use.” You said and let go of him, nodding at Fennec. “I’m sure Boba would like to question the man himself. Isn’t that right, Cyar’ika?”

Boba looked at you, as surprised by the pet name as he was by your quick reflexes but nodding at Fennec nonetheless. “Bring him to the cells. I will see to him later.”

Fennec nodded and quickly took the man away, glancing back to see you walking up to Boba and taking his face into your hands. Everyone watched as you examined him for any injuries before your shoulders dropped in relief when you found he was fine.

“Thank you for your quick thinking, Mesh’la.”

“All I want is for you to be safe, my love.”

#star wars #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #star wars x reader #boba fett #boba fett x reader #book of boba fett #the mandalorian #mandalorian #the book of boba fett #boba fett imagine #gender neutral reader #gn reader #writing #fanfiction #textpost

[whatsnewalycat]

Passenger / Chapter 4

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Chapter Four: Wyoming (Part One)

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Chapter Summary: Charlie and Din have a bad morning.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 4.9k+

Content / Warnings: heavy angst, suicidal thoughts, homicidal thoughts, half-hearted suicide attempt, half-hearted homicide attempt, gun, fennec shand, boba fett, yearning, do u feel the slow burn now mr krabs

Notes: Hey, hi. Please be mindful of the trigger warnings on this one. It's a little (a lot) angst-heavy at the top, but it gets lighter. Big thanks to @frannyzooey for proofreading this!! Let me know what y'all think :) letsnottalkabouthowturnedoniambydincallingherbluff

Consciousness finds you like a crack in a dam. 

A trickle at first, when you register the slow, steady rhythm of the dog’s snores lifting and lowering your arm. You feel the flannel innards of your sleeping bag clinging to your sweat-drenched legs. Your ears tune into the low, constant hum of the old Peterbilt’s engine, and you blink open your eyes to see the subtle light of dawn creeping in through the windows. 

Then, as you realize you’re still alive, still being held captive in this fucking truck… whoosh. 

Blood rushes through your body, hot and furious, sending you upright in an instant.  You find the man propped up against the passenger’s side door like a rag doll, staring at you with dull, vacant eyes. It takes him a moment to process the fact that you’re awake, then all at once, his eyes go wide and he sits up straight. Both of you freeze. 

That’s when you see it. The darkened bags under his eyes. The exhaustion slumping his broad shoulders. 

The gun in his hand. 

Fire floods your veins and you growl, “You fucking coward.” 

His eyelids flutter when the insult hits him. A nod rocks his head back slightly. 

“All you had to do was pull the trigger,” you seethe, emotion cracking your voice, “How fucking hard is that?” 

His jaw clenches. Head tilts to one side. Eyes flit around the cab before settling back on yours, “Do you want to see?”

You blink at him, “See what?”

The man pulls himself to his feet and shimmies between the front seats, holding the gun’s grip out to you. 

You drop your gaze to your lap and grit your teeth, “Fuck you.” 

He crouches beside the bed and nudges your shaking hands with the weapon, “Take it. I want you to see.” 

“I fucking hate you.” 

“I know,” he mutters, grabbing your left hand, your dominant hand, pressing the heavy grip into your palm, “Come on, show me how you hold a gun.” 

You swallow the thickness in your throat and correct your hold to proper form. He nods in approval and searches your face, then points to his forehead, “Right here.” 

No. 

You shake your head. Tears distort your vision, blurring his face into an abstract mess. The gun is solid and cool in your sweaty palms. You can’t bring yourself to move it. 

So he does it for you. 

His hand wraps around yours and guides the aim to his forehead. A sob wracks your body and you shake your head again and again, begging him in a soggy whisper, “No no no—”

He ignores your protest, talking over the cries sounding from your throat, “If you kill me, you can leave. Take whatever you need. Flee to Canada. That was a smart plan,” he searches your face and gives a small shrug, adding, “Please take care of the dog, though.” 

He’s right. You know he’s right. 

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you hold the muzzle steady between his dark, unblinking eyes. Your thumb pulls back the safety with a metallic crackle. He doesn’t even flinch. 

“How hard is it, Charlie?” he asks, his voice a low, daring trickle, “Hmm? How fucking hard is it to pull the trigger?” 

“Fuck you,” you tell him in a pathetic sob, “You’re a piece of shit—”

“Then do something about it.”

Red blinds you. It burns you from the inside out, pulsing and furious. You flirt with the trigger, lightly stroking the hard curve of it, imagining all the potential futures branching out from this moment. 

A future where you kill him, take his dog and your meager belongings, and head for Canada. Another where you give him back his gun, he delivers you to Portland, and you die in a cage. 

Another option becomes clear to you. One that could make this nightmare end in an instant. Where you get just what you wanted. 

The numbness of resignation dulls your senses, even as your heartbeat speeds to that of a hummingbird’s. You pull the aim away from his head and point it at your own, thinking: How much pressure would it take? Would it hurt?

His features quickly shift to panic. He holds a hand up and says, “Hey, no—” 

Thinking: How hard is it, Charlie? How fucking hard is it to pull the trigger?

“Give me the gun, Charlie.” 

A damp, painful knot tangles your throat. You try to swallow it down, but a sob bursts through anyway, and you hear yourself choke out, “I don’t want to die.”

“Hey, look at me,” he instructs.

You can’t. You can’t focus on anything but the barrel buried in your hair and the allure of the trigger. He touches your chin and coos, “Eyes right here, kid.”

Your gaze flicks to his. 

He carefully wraps one hand around your wrist while the other tilts the barrel up and flips the safety back into place, “There we go.” 

Your hand goes slack and he takes the gun away, hiding it somewhere as you collapse into yourself. When he returns, the mattress shifts under his weight. The heat of his palm presses into your back, smoothing up and down the length of your spine. It coaxes another bout of crying from deep within your chest. 

For weeks, this dense, dark matter has been collecting inside you the way dust does on framed family photos. And this pitiful blubbering is just an involuntary purge. A seasonal deep clean. 

You expect him to tell you to stop, or to leave, but he doesn’t. He just sits there and rubs your back. You’re not sure if he’s being supportive and patient or if he doesn’t know what else to do, but the effect is all the same. It soothes you. 

Eventually, you sit up and wipe your eyes on the sleeves of your shirt, then dare to look at him. 

He holds your gaze. You realize this is the first time you’ve seen him without his face covered by sunglasses or a hat or darkness. And he is… remarkable. 

His deep brown eyes drop to your mouth for a fleeting moment, capsizing your stomach. Heat pulses to your face and you look away, whispering, “You don’t have to do this. You can let me go.” 

He says nothing, just stands and starts disarming the cabin. 

Neither of you have spoken a word. 

Which is typical on your captor’s part. You’re pretty sure if you never tried to say anything to him, he wouldn’t speak at all. 

But there’s something different about his silence now. It seems weighted and intentional. Like he’s actively trying not to break it. 

His movements are clipped. Heavy with hard edges. When it came time for your morning bathroom break, he tossed the handcuffs next to you on the bed and waited for you to restrain yourself on the grab bar, crossing his arms and staring at you, as if that was enough explanation. 

And, you suppose, it was. 

After he returned from letting the dog out, he emptied your latrine, grabbed a black canvas toiletry bag and towel from the overhead compartment, and left again. The morning’s events sucked all life from you, leaving you hollowed-out and zombie-like. 

You were nodding off when he returned, his dark curls dripping wet beneath his black baseball cap. The clean scent of his damp skin wafted back into the sleeper cab. Days worth of grime made your skin crawl. If you held any kind of fight in you, you would have asked to take a shower, but you found it pointless. 

Why perform maintenance on a sinking ship? 

Even so, after the man freed you from the handcuffs and started to prepare the rig for departure, you got ready for the day the best you could. 

While he plugged in coordinates and did whatever the fuck on his dashboard tablet, you crouched down behind the driver’s seat and changed into your cleanest clothes, resigning to the fact that they will likely be the clothing your body dons when it’s discovered in some Portland alleyway within the week. You twisted your greasy hair into two long braids, then pulled out your guitar and strummed a few of your favorite songs. Songs filled with hope and freedom and adoration for this beautiful world. 

But, for the first time since you left home all those years ago, they rang hollow and false. You stowed the guitar away in the overhead compartment, then strapped yourself into the passenger’s seat upfront and opened your notebook with the intention of drafting goodbye letters to your grandma and brother. 

An hour later, the white space sectioned off by cornflower blue lines remains empty. 

You could blame the weight of existentialism crushing your rib cage like an aluminum can, but in all honesty, the scenery keeps distracting you. 

Waves of evergreen trees roll by your window as far as you can see. Every so often, a hill stretches up towards the sagging gray clouds so abruptly, it exposes the pale, stony earth beneath, cliff sides torn into the forest like ripped clothing or stretch marks. A few towns crop up here and there, tiny symbionts feeding off the lifeblood of I-80, none of them much more than a gas station, a church, and a bar. 

It brings you a sense of oneness. Peace. Gratitude. 

In the grand scheme of things, you don’t matter. Not to the mountains and the trees and the streams. They existed for years before you and will still for years after you. Just a speck. 

But that speck was so good to me. 

Regret fills you suddenly. You think about all the people you’ve met, all the things you’ve seen, all the places you’ve been. And you realize none of them will miss you. 

You swear you hear your sternum crack when you realize this. 

But then you hear the dashboard chime. 

Both you and your captor frown at the source. He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand, but starts searching for an exit. By the time one comes along, all you can smell is burning plastic. 

The man pulls over on the side of a county road, then kills the engine. When he pulls back the hood, white-blue smoke billows from the Peterbilt’s innards into the gloomy sky. 

You look over at the dog, whose flat snout steams up the driver’s side window, and snort, “That doesn’t look good.”

The dog whines and scampers onto your lap, pulling his front paws up onto the dashboard. He glances between you and his caretaker, ears perked up with curiosity. Through the windshield, the two of you watch him shake his head at the machinery. He leans forward into the engine bay and touches something, then jerks back like it bit him. Tugging his gloves off, he stares down at the smoking mess, then pulls a cell phone from his pocket and makes a call. 

“Din Djarin,” the velvety feminine voice answers, “How can I help you?” 

“Shand,” he greets, squinting up at the glowing gray sky, “I broke down off 1-80 in Wyoming. Need someone to come take this trailer to make the deadline.” 

“Drop off?”

“Provo, Utah.” 

“Send me your location and the work order, I’ll get someone out there.”

“Will do, thank you.”

After hanging up, Din pings his location and sends her electronic copies of paperwork detailing the job. 

He glances through the windshield every once in a while, and can see you and the dog peering over the dashboard from the passenger’s seat. The anxious creases haunting your features throughout the morning have softened. You look amused, in fact. 

Looming financial devastation be damned, relief loosens his knotted shoulders just a little. He corrects himself, pushing his shoulders back, staring into the messy engine compartment. 

Shit. 

This is… not ideal. 

Din started to get an inkling of this unfortunate bout of sympathy while waiting for you to fall asleep last night. 

Actually, that’s not true.

It happened before that. The second he heard your request for a mercy killing, it started twisting in guts. 

By the time he finally heard your breathing alter into that of a dreamlike state, the inhales and exhales becoming deeper and less predictable, he doubted his ability to grant your wish. He tried anyway. Stood above you, aiming straight at your temple. Just one small movement to assure him the collection of your bounty. To achieve financial stability for at least a year. To unburden himself from your presence. 

A minute passed. 

And another. 

And a few more. 

Twenty minutes went by in total with your life in his sight, then he resigned to the passenger’s seat while he tried to sort this all out in his head. 

If you had just tried to escape, or tried to attack him, he could have pulled the trigger and excused his guilty conscience away. But no. He let you pull back the curtain. Something he could have stopped if he really wanted to do so.

He didn’t, though, did he?

As much as he hates to admit it, even to himself, he wanted to hear your story. It was unprofessional. He should know better. All it did was surface more questions. Make you more human. 

Rookie mistake. 

He is a killer. Reborn out of blood and forged into this rigid shape. He should know better than to view his target as a person with hopes and dreams and a future. But no matter what lies he tried to tell himself about self-preservation or duty or mercy, he could not fucking do it. 

Which, now that he thinks about it, is much worse than “not ideal.” 

No. It is downright “bad news.” 

He calls the only diesel mechanic listed within a 50-mile radius to arrange for a tow and repair. He tells the gruff man on the other end of the line he’ll “need a new radiator,” then, “yes, I am sure.” The thing had been held together by glue and hope for 20,000 miles. It was inevitable. Din was just praying it would wait until after he received your bounty to fall apart. 

But, as is sometimes the case, fate had different plans in store. 

Fennec Shand called while he was on the phone with the mechanic. He calls her back, skipping formalities completely when she picks up by asking, “Did you find anyone?” 

She doesn’t seem to mind, jumping into the conversation with, “You’re in luck. Boba Fett just finished a job in Laramie and can be there in an hour.” 

Din nods, “Ok. A tow is on the way, taking us to a nearby town. I might be out of commission for a few days—”

“Us?”

His lips part, gaze flashing to the windshield as he stammers, “Me and the, uhh, the dog.” 

“Hmm,” Fennec hums, “Yeah, thanks for that, by the way. I got a real earful from the owners.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry to me, it’s coming out of your pay,” she snorts. 

He props a hand on his hip and glances around, “Do you know what his name is?” 

“The dog?” 

“Right.” 

“I’ll see if I have anything in my notes, mind if I put you on hold?” 

“Sure.”

Some time goes by with silence from the other end of the line. Din steps away from the engine bay and paces the gravel shoulder in front of the rig. 

Eventually, she comes back with a simple, “Grogu.” 

“What?”

“G-R-O-G-U,” Fennec spells it out, then enunciates, ”Grow-goo, that���s the dog’s name.” 

“Oh, I see,” he smiles at the ground, then nods, “Thank you.” 

“Need anything else?” 

“That should do it.” 

As he returns to the cab of the truck, Din repeats the name under his breath, “Grogu.” 

He pulls the driver’s side door open. A robust and rhythmic strumming invades his ears. Sort of upbeat. It cuts abruptly when he closes the door and sits down. 

“What’s the news, big guy?” you smirk, draping one arm over the graffitied face of your guitar, “Do I live to see another day?” 

He glances into the sleeper cab at the dog, who’s napping, then back to you, “The radiator is toast. A tow is on its way from Yellow Seed. Guy on the phone said there’s a motel across the street from the shop. We can stay there until it gets fixed.” 

“How long’ll that take, do you think?” 

“Not sure,” he admits, “He said he might have to order parts, so it could be a day or two before he can start. We’ll know more then.” 

You nod as you absorb this information, teeth struggling to clamp down your curving lips. Then, as if you cannot possibly contain it any longer, the smile explodes across your face. He notices, for the first time, that you have this little gap between your front teeth. Like he could slot a dime between them in a perfect fit. 

He also notices his chest tighten and his breathing alter. 

Bad, bad news. 

“It’ll be in your best interest to behave when we’re around others,” he says while turning his attention to his mounted tablet and pulling up the email app. 

“Or what, you’ll kill me?” you snort, dropping your gaze to the guitar in your lap. 

“I’m sending the coordinates of the motel to the guild. If anything happens—if I end up in jail, or if you run—the next person who finds you might not be as accommodating as I am.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t call the cops. Rule number four,” you raise an eyebrow and pluck a melody into the strings of your guitar, “Fuck the police.” 

He rolls his eyes, “Still—”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you pause your plucking to wave him off, “I’ll be a good girl for you, is that what you wanna hear?” 

A wave of arousal flips his stomach and sends his heart racing. 

His mouth gapes open and his throat croaks before a wide, pleased smile creeps across your face, “Oh, I got you a little flustered with that one, didn’t I, uhh—hey, what’s your name anyways?” 

He shakes his head without answering your question, furrowing his brow at the tablet while typing out the email to Karga. Trying to ignore the heat coiling in the middle of him. Trying to think about anything other than “I’ll be a good girl for you, is that what you wanna hear?” 

With a little huff of annoyance, you go back to playing your guitar. 

When the tow truck arrives, your captor sets up some little orange traffic cones in a curve along the left side of the rig. 

Out of the tow comes a bearded mechanic, outfitted in a navy blue jumpsuit with a name patch that reads Paul. He approaches your captor and shakes his hand. They exchange a few words before Paul moves on to inspect the engine compartment, squinting into the exposed guts of the truck. 

Another semi-truck pulls over ahead of the tow only a minute or two later. It’s an odd green-ish gray color with rusty red accents. Your captor goes to greet the other truck driver, a bald, barrel-chested man. They exchange a polite nod and stand side-by-side behind the mechanic, arms crossed as they talk. The bald trucker seems to be more talkative, his lips moving intermittently, while your captor’s stay mostly resigned to a firm frown. 

A pang of loneliness shoots through your heart. You realize you’re just staring at them, aching to socialize. The sparse, one-sided conversations you’ve had in the past few days have left much to be desired. No offense to your road companions. 

Well, maybe a little offense when it comes to your human road companion. 

You set the pup down in the driver’s seat and go to open the door, using rule #10 as your rationalization: Be a stand up tramp. 

It’s only polite, after all, to go introduce yourself and be friendly. And, yeah, maybe you desperately want to chit-chat a little, too. So what? 

The second the passenger’s door cracks open, your captor is there, blocking your exit.

“Get back in the truck.” 

“I wanna say hi.” 

“You don’t need to do that.” 

You roll your eyes and push on the door. He grabs it and pushes back. The only thing stopping him from slamming it shut are your legs dangling out the bottom.

“Oh my god, seriously?” You blink at him and gesture to the vast, desolated hills outside the rig, “What am I gonna do, big guy, run away? I already told you, I won’t spill your beans, I swear.” 

He stays frozen in place, holding the door a quarter of the way open, jaw clenched, broad shoulders squared, like he thinks he can intimidate you. Although you can’t see his eyes through his mirrored sunglasses, you can feel them burning into yours. 

So you stare him down. Give him your best “do not fuck with me” face. The space between your bodies becomes so thick and ripe with challenge, you wonder what ever happened when that unstoppable force met the immovable object. 

From the driver’s seat, the dog starts to whine in discomfort. This tiny noise pulls the lens back just enough for your brain to formulate a sentence you think could break him. 

“You can stare at me all you want, brown eyes, I’m not gonna kiss you.” 

His lips part and his head jerks back, “I—I’m—what? No—”

Victory. 

A smile spreads across your face.

“I promise I’ll behave,” you tell him, holding your hand out to him, pinkie finger erect, “Pinky promise.” 

He looks towards the mechanic, then his trucker comrade, jaw working from side-to-side, weight shifting to one hip. So close to giving in. 

“Please, I’m so bored.” 

When he turns back to you, he studies you for a moment, then sighs and releases the door. 

“You gotta do the thing or it doesn’t count,” you insist, holding your pinky out to him. 

“I’m not doing that.” 

“Figures,” you scoff. He ignores the retort, stepping aside so you can climb down. 

You start around the truck’s unhinged jaw of a hood, waving to the bald trucker when he comes into view, “Hey there!” 

“Ahh,” he grins, revealing a set of big, porcelain white teeth, and glances between you and the man hovering over your shoulder, “What’ve we here?” 

His accent is interesting. Probably a Kiwi.

You return his bright smile with your own and extend your hand, “I’m Charlie.” 

“Boba. Pleasure to meet you,” he nods, giving you a firm and brief handshake, then looks to your captor, “You’re collecting all kinds of stowaways, aren’t you?” 

“It’s temporary,” he responds mildly. 

Boba’s eyes seem to sparkle at this as he steps back and tucks a hand under each armpit, giving you a wink, “That’s what they all say.” 

You laugh and shake your head, jerking a thumb over your shoulder, “Trust me, he can’t wait to get rid of me.” 

The mechanic’s head pops out from the inner workings of the truck when he hears your laughter, and you wave to him, “Hi there!” 

“Howdy howdy,” he nods in greeting as he approaches, wiping his hands on his jumper. 

“I’m Charlie,” you smile and point to his name tag, “Paul, I’m guessing?” 

“Yes ma’am, that’s me,” he props his hands up on his hips, jerking his head towards the truck, “Y’all got any more in there, or is it just the two of you?”

“We got a dog. Other than that, just the two of us. We gonna be able to fit in the tow?”

Paul frowns and shrugs, “Might be tight, but I think we can squeeze everyone in.” 

You nod, then step around the upright hood, “What’s it lookin’ like?” 

“Lookin’ like your, uhh,” he pauses here, glancing between you and your captor, probably trying to assess what the relation between you is, finally settling on, “Din here was right. Radiator’s busted wide open. She’ll need a total replacement.” 

Din. 

That has to be his name. 

Another victorious smile spreads across your face. And to think, just a few hours ago, you were longing for death. Things are looking up. 

You clear your throat and attempt to stifle your obvious excitement, “What’s that run?” 

Din sighs from behind you, and you hear Boba chuckle to him, “Just temporary, eh?”

“Top of my head, I’d say about three grand. Don’t hold me to that, though. I’ll know more when I can call around for parts and take a better look.” 

“Right on,” you cross your arms and glance over your shoulder at Din, whose mouth is flattened into an unamused line, then back to Paul, “Anyway, sorry for interrupting, I’ll get out of your hair. Just wanted to introduce myself.” 

“Hey, ain’t no problem,” Paul smiles, hiking a thumb towards the tow, “If you and the dog wanna hop into the truck, we should be able to get this bad boy all hooked up in a few minutes.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Thank you, Paul!” 

Paul returns his attention to the truck, heaving the tarnished chrome hood shut. You turn to Boba, squinting into the sun, and give him another courteous wave, “Hey, it was really nice meeting you, Boba. Good luck in your travels!” 

“Same to you, Miss Charlie,” he nods, his smile stretching wide as he looks between you and Din, “You keep him out of trouble, now.” 

“This guy? Trouble? No way,” you snort as you turn and walk around Din, shooting him a smirk on your way back to the passenger’s side. 

He follows hot on your trail, practically hissing, “Are you satisfied?” 

“I sure am,” you grin back at him as you pull the door open, “Hey, do you want me to let the dog go do his business before we take off?” 

He halts, holding the door open, staring up at you. You raise your eyebrows in question. 

“Sure—Uhh, yes,” he shakes his head, “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome… Din,” you beam, and your glee only grows when a disgruntled sigh heaves his chest. 

To your credit, you did not tip off the tow truck driver on the ride to Yellow Seed, just as you promised. 

You did, however, charm him. Which is almost as much of a problem as him suspecting the truth. 

Din sat between you and Paul, hoping it would act as a deterrent for conversation, but neither of you let that get in the way. You just talked around him. The situation took him by surprise, though. He found himself being more perplexed than he was irritated by the back-and-forth. 

It was almost effortless, the way you seemed to control the conversation, keeping the topic centered around Paul and Yellow Seed. This left little space for him to attempt small talk by asking about who you and Din are, and the circumstances surrounding your travel. 

People love talking about themselves. You clearly know this and use it to your advantage. It solidifies something Din has been realizing the past few days: You are very clever. Cunning, even. 

When a sign goes by, marking Yellow Seed’s city limits, you read the population out loud, “One-thousand, nine hundred, and eighty-six. Dang, that is a small town.” 

You hug Grogu to your chest as you lean forward and look at Paul, “Din said there’s a motel here, is that right?” 

“Yep,” he nods, “Right across the road from the shop. If you want, I can show y’all around town after unloading the truck.” 

“No,” Din says. 

You smack him in the shoulder and chuckle, “We can walk. It’ll give us a chance to stretch our legs. Thank you so much for offering, though.”  

“No problem,” Paul squints, flipping on his turn signal, “Here we are.” 

The big wooden sign out front is barely legible, its paint chipped and faded by at least a decade of neglect. Beyond it, a big gravel lot crowded with cars and trucks and rigs in different states of disarray. Some have weeds growing up into the wheel wells like the vehicles haven’t been moved in weeks. 

The garage itself is a simple, box-like structure with aluminum siding. Three two-story garage doors take up most of the road-facing side of the building. 

Paul puts the tow in park and kills the engine, then swings the driver’s door open to climb down. You don’t move, and instead, regard Din with a smug smile while scratching Grogu between the ears, “How’d I do?” 

He gives you a nod, “Good,” and after a beat adds, “Thank you.” 

Your smile stretches and warms. It curls around inside him, beckoning a gentle, hungry hope that feels intrusive in his body. Inwardly, he chides himself. 

Such soft things are not made for him. They are a luxury he cannot afford and does not deserve. 

You pass him the dog and crack the passenger’s door open, then turn to him, “Ready?”

The ambiguity with which he interprets this question makes his mind whir. Is he ready for the next leg of this journey, and the uncertainty it brings? Can he rebuild the carefully constructed walls you’ve been dismantling? Or is it a fruitless endeavor? Is he ready to face you without the distraction of the open highway stretching out in front of him? 

Not at all. 

But he nods, “Ready,” and follows you into the crisp October air, letting his feet touch down in Yellow Seed. 

#pedro pascal characters #din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #passenger #god please let this be the last tag

[mykinkyyandere]

Hello, I read your 'Dumb Little Angel' drabble (Really enjoyed it too) and was wondering if you would ever write anything like that with Obi-Wan or Boba Fett?

Dumb Little Baby

AO3

Pairings: Yandere! Obi-Wan Kenobi X f!Reader

Warnings: Smut, non-con, +18, spanking, failed escape attempt, he punishes the reader, threatening, kidnapped reader, riding, cumming inside

"I'm so sorry, please!" You cried.

"Little baby, my little dumb baby." He slapped your butt hard again. He was sitting with his legs spread wide and you were riding him on his lap. He wanted you to milk him and you had to take his full dick deep inside. He didn't help you at all and you were very tired, but he didn't let you stop.

Your legs and arms couldn't take it anymore. It was so hard to take his thick cock inside. You were so slow and whimpering all the time. He was smacking your ass to get you up to speed and you were trying to increase your speed a little bit, but he knew you couldn't do it. He was too big for you but he had no complaints as you slowly milked his dick trembling and crying. You were so sexy.

"Oh, just like that. Ride me, my little dumb baby." You slowly lifted your butt so that it almost popped his head and lowered it back to his balls. Your lips were showing and disappearing on his dick, you were so tight. Obi-Wan closed his eyes in delight at your almost agonizing slow pace. He kept himself so hard not to bury his cock deep inside you but he wanted you to do everything.

"Are you going to try to run away from me again?" He smack your butt hard, then squeezed it tight enough to remove his handprints.

You sobbed, whimpering in pain. "No."

"Who am I?" He spanked your butt again and you screamed in pain.

You answered with your poor pleading voice before you could smother your sobs, and as soon as you did, he grabbed you by the waist and thrust himself inside with incredible speed. "You're my owner."

Your scream echoed everywhere. He was bouncing you so hard that it hurt the way your boobs were bouncing, and it burned where your skin touched. Finally, he held you tight and cum, pressing against you himself. He sucked your neck and moaned as his thick ropes painted your poor walls. He growled each time, giving a few hard, slow thrusts. "Try to escape from me again and see what happens."

#yandere obi wan x reader #yandere obi wan kenobi #yandere obi wan kenobi x reader #yandere obi wan #yandere obi wan kenobi smut #dark obi wan kenobi x reader #dark obi wan kenobi #dark obi wan x reader #dark obi wan #dark obi wan kenobi x reader smut #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi smut #dark star wars x reader #yandere star wars x reader #star wars x reader #yandere star wars smut #dark star wars smut #star wars smut #obi wan kenobi #star wars #obi wan #dumb little baby

[vodika-vibes]

Mid-day Talks

Summary: You realize something about your relationship with Boba Fett and make a course correction.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Word Count: 1279

Song: A Thousand Years by Christina Perri

Warnings: Miscommunications

A/N: This is only the second time I've written Boba, but I think I'm starting to get a feel for him.

Divider by Saradika

Light fingers trail over the leaves of the plants that cover your room. Your room, in the sense that Boba still refuses, for whatever reason, to claim your room as his room.

You don’t blame him, his life has been hard, and you really just want to make his life easier. Even if it is getting harder and harder for you to not ask him to just move into your room.

Or ask to move into his room. You’re really not picky.

You just want to be near him, around him, with him. And yes, he has a dangerous job and has dangerous enemies and you’re his one weakness, but you really, really don’t care.

You love him.

And, okay, maybe you haven’t exactly said that to him, exactly, but surely he knows how you feel about him. Surely. Right?

There’s no possible way that he can assume that you’re just kissing him and hugging him and asking him to spend the night with you because you’re lonely. There’s…there’s no way-

He’s such an observant man, he’s obviously-

He-

…fuck.

You scowl at your innocent succulent, even as you lovingly spray some water over it.

That’s exactly what he thinks, isn’t it? That you’re just asking him to stay because you’re lonely.

Well. That’s just…unacceptable.

Boba is wonderful. Practically perfect in every way. He’s so kind and warm and gentle…well, to you, at least. How could you not love him?

“Whatever your plants did to upset you, I’m sure they’re sorry,” You turn when you hear Boba’s voice from behind you, and you shoot him a quizzical look, “You’re glaring at them.” He clarifies, and then he jabs a thumb over his shoulder, “You left the door open, so I just came in.”

“That’s fine Boba, you don’t have to ask permission to come in here. You spend nearly as much time in here as I do.” You joke easily as you set the spray bottle on the table and walk over to him.

“Well, your room is certainly more welcoming than mine is.” Boba replies, a small smile crossing his face as you reach him and slide your arms around his neck, and he settles his hands on your hips.

“Your room looks like a man decorated it, love.”

“A man did decorate it,” He counters, “It’s just how I like it. Clean. And I know where everything is.”

“You know, you could let me decorate it. Let me buy some cloth and rugs, and make it warm and inviting…or, you could just bite the bullet and stay?”

“I’m not going to invade your space anymore than I already do, Sarad.”

“Hm, alright. Let’s have a seat somewhere so we can chat. Can we do that?” You ask as you lightly thump your forehead against his chest plate.

“You do realize that we’re already having a conversation, right? That’s what you saying something and me saying something back is.” Boba counters dryly.

“Oh, okay. You’re in a mood this afternoon.” You say against his chest, before you look him in the eye, “How’s this then? You know I’m in love with you, right?”

Boba starts at your comment, his grip on your hips tightening to an almost painful degree. “You…what?”

“Wow. You really did think that I was hugging you, kissing you, and sleeping with you because I was lonely.” You say with a frown, “I think I’m offended.”

“Wait, hold on. Back up.” Boba says, frowning at you, “You love me? Are you sure?”

“Wow. Now I’m even more offended.” You reply.

“No, just…” He pauses and takes a deep breath, “Can we start this conversation over, please?” Boba asks, “You kind of caught me off guard.”

“That’s probably a good idea, before you dig yourself into a hole you can’t get out of.” You mutter under your breath.

Boba hesitates for a moment, and then lightly tugs you towards your bed. He sits on the edge and pulls you onto his lap, securing his arms tightly around your waist. “So…firstly, I’m sorry for offending you. You surprised me, and I reacted without thinking.”

“You’re forgiven.” You reply warmly, your fingers sliding up to gently brush against his jaw.

“Secondly, I didn’t, actually, know that you love me.” He deadpans, “I’m kind of old, you see, and you’re really not-”

“Okay, so first of all,” You interrupt, “You’re 41, not old in human terms, at all. And secondly, how can you not know? You moved me into your house? After we started sleeping together!”

He smiles sheepishly, “I wanted you to stay close?”

“Boba!”

“What? I did! And there were people hunting you, so really moving you in was for your own safety.” Boba replies.

“That’s…not incorrect.” You admit as your shoulders slump, “I think we need to work on our communication better.”

“Apparently.” He runs a hand up your spine and gently plays with the ends of your hair, “But, I am all ears, cyare.”

“Alright.” You shift on his lap slightly, trusting that he would never let you fall to the floor, and you cup his face with your hands, “I’m in love with you. Have been pretty much since the first time I kissed you.”

“You lost a bet.”

“And you’re a really good kisser, and I fell in love.”

“Wow. I’m either a really good kisser, or you’re lucky I came around before you ended up in a cult.”

You sputter, “Is that judgment I’m hearing?”

“Maybe a little.” Boba replies with a small grin.

You pout at him, “I changed my mind, you’re the worst.”

He buries his face in your neck, and you can feel him grinning against your skin, “No, no. It’s too late now. Please keep going.”

“Like I was saying. I’ve been in love with you for ages, and I always want to be around you and with you. And it only occurred to me a little bit ago that you might not know…and it only just occurred to me that you might not feel the same.”

“Oh, that only just occurred to you,” Boba teases.

You pout at the side of his head, “I’d be sad if you don’t feel the same, but I won’t push, because I’m a stellar person.”

He pulls away and favors you with a warm smile, a smile only for you, “I’ve loved you since before we met.”

“That’s not possible,” You reply, though your smile is soft and your gaze is almost molten.

“We live in a galaxy where people can throw rocks with their brains, and me loving you before we met is impossible?” Boba asks.

You pause, and then laugh quietly, “No, I guess not.” You hesitate, “So…about us sharing a room…?”

“Stars, you are relentless.” He said with a laugh, “Yes, we can try having me share your room, and if either of us don’t like it, then we can renegotiate. How does that sound?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You fling your arms around his neck, and it’s a testament to how well Boba knows you that he doesn’t topple over, “It sounds perfect! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” His arms fold around you and he rubs your back gently.

You pull back slightly, “Oh! Did you need me for something Boba?”

“It’s lunch time and neither of us have eaten. So I guess I’m asking you on a lunch date. In my own kitchen.” Boba replies with an easy smile.

“That sounds great.” You say with a laugh of delight, and then you lean in and kiss him gently. “I love you, Boba.”

His smile is so soft and gentle that you want to cry, “I love you too, cyare.”

#star wars #tbobf #Boba Fett x Reader #Boba x Reader #x reader fanfic #star wars fanfiction

[acatalystrising]

wip game: Small Favors please 😳💚

Hi hi!!! Omg you absolutely can! 🖤💚

This one is going to be absolutely filthy and I am melting just writing it! Here’s a snippet, I sure hope you enjoy!

-

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

Oh, you knew you were asking for trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

Tagging some people who may be interested: @kimiheartblade @hideflen @daimyosprincess @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @marierg @rain-on-kamino @rexxdjarin @ceapa-mica @deewithani @bobathirstaccount

#ask answered #wip excerpt #current wip #acatalystrising writes #boba fett #small favors boba fett fic #boba fett thots #boba fett smut #boba fett x reader smut #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x reader #daddy boba fett #daimyo boba fett #star wars #the book of boba fett #tbobf #book of boba fett

[rexxdjarin]

ooo what about “im yours, completely,utterly yours” for boba fett😌🧐

S I N D A Y I N B O X M E M E

I love boba so much it’s not even funny. Maybe it’s bc we’ve gotten the newest content for him but like Tem Boba I love him so fucking bad I’m 😍😮‍💨😩🤤

“I’m yours, completely, utterly yours.”

“Boba…promise me. Please.” You ask him, sitting on his throne and looking around the room at the hundreds of beautiful women, of all different species at his disposal. For his choosing. Whatever or whoever he could possibly want. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that could be you. That that is you.

He looked down at you with an amused smirk from where he stood between your open thighs, his gloved fingertips easing up the exposed skin. The contact of cold leather gloves on your warm skin had you more on edge than you’d been in a long time. You could use a reminder of just how much the most powerful man on Tatooine needs you.

“Princess…who else…” He began to ask, but stopped as he saw you turn away from him in self-conscious annoyance. He could see right through you. With or without the helmet. He knew what you felt before you even knew yourself usually. His eyes shifted to the crowd enjoying his palace’s offerings and he understood. You didn’t want anyone else around when you were feeling unsure of yourself. You wanted him just for you. And most times, because of this new role he’d taken on for himself, he couldn’t do that.

But today was just a party and he could command anyone there to do whatever he wanted. Except probably Fennec, but she knew better than to test him when it came to men’s needs.

You bit the inside of your lip, looking up at him scowling as the gears whirled in his head to formulate some kind of plan or command. You couldn’t tell which. The gorgeous emerald dress you’d chosen to match his armor was heavier than you wanted to wear in this heat and although you were feeling a little neglected lately, you couldn’t deny the fire brewing in your belly for him now.

Before you could open your mouth to snap at him to pay attention, he scooped you up in his arms and spun around to take his place on his stone throne. You were sprawled in his lap suggestively, his hand inching up your thigh as he removed the vibro blade he knew you kept strapped to the garters you always wore.

A wicked grin drew across his face and he brushed your panties aside, his gloved fingertips connecting with your clit. Your eyes went wide as you realized what he was doing to you while no one was paying attention. He circled the bud softly, moving his head to let you rest yours in the crook of his neck.

“Boba…f-fuck…I’m..too loud for this.” You giggled, gasping as he increased the speed of the circles he was tracing along the bundle of nerves.

“Good. I want them to hear you. What I’m willing to be seen doing with you, my Princess. That way they’ll know I’m yours, completely, utterly, yours.” He chuckled darkly into your ear, his fingers slipping down through your lips and teasing the little hole.

“Yes…Boba…I’m yours. This little cunt is all yours.” You ramble as he works you up torturously, the wet sounds almost certainly loud enough to be noticed if someone walks too close.

“I know it is. Only I get you this slick. You’re my wet little slut, you know that? I’d never do this with anyone else but you. It’s only you. Gotta prepare you properly to take my cock, right? So I can watch you look so pretty as I make you feel good.” He’s whispering in your ear, his fingers plunging into you and curving against the front wall so hard you could cry from how good it feels. How much he could spur you on with just his words. How fucking weak he makes you.

“All these people here and I only care about you. This pretty fucking face and this perfect little pussy. Everything I have left of me is yours. I owe who I am now to you. Don’t ever forget that, mesh’la.”

You whimper his name in his ear, clinging to him while he draws out orgasm after orgasm from you on his throne where everyone can see but no one looks. He gives you every little pleasure he can while he’s busy. He’s never given anyone anything without guaranteeing something in return. No one except you. And that’s how you know he loves you most.

#boba fett smut #boba fett thots #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #daimyo boba #asks and thots #sinday inbox asks

[bakerstreethound]

A Daimyo’s Wish

Relationship: Boba Fett x reader 

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, swearing, and thigh riding 

Summary: After months of fantasizing about Boba Fett, an anonymous tip gets out to him, leaving you to reveal your desires for him and his throne. 

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound​ (do NOT repost or translate my works to any other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username.)

Word Count: 1.3k 

A/N: Blame @pandaqueen7799​ for this fic. Once I started writing Boba, I couldn’t help myself and ended up with this piece for her since Boba decided to be my muse for the day. Please enjoy (: I hope to get back to my other characters soon. *gif isn’t mine* 

=================================

The thing about Boba Fett, the legendary bounty hunter, was that he was way more skilled in the bedroom than he let on. And yet you still somehow find yourself fantasizing about the way his fingers would feel running along your body, making you come undone multiple times over. 

That was before however, someone gave him an anonymous tip, and a few extra credits later that you somehow found yourself standing before him in the throne room, nothing but the occasional sound of traders bartering outside.  Not that it was by any means a regular occurrence. You never imaged coming undone by him while sitting in his lap, working you to his will. Never let yourself get caught in a daydream when he reviewed the newest happenings in Mos Eisley or organized missions and consulted Fennec with citizen’s concerns, especially with the spice runners.  You were definitely not consumed by thinking of being railed by him in every position or way possible. Not a question or concern at all. 

“Did you catch any of that?” His voice drones on through his modulator, pulling you from your stupor. Currently the throne room was occupied with Boba and Fennec finishing off an important deal, a few exchanging of credits here and there. You yawn a few times, shifting on your feet to keep from falling asleep, that was until you realized he was talking to you, and you were the one before his throne.

“A few bits here and there, daimyo, yes. Although I doubt it was of any importance.” 

Fennec purses her lips from her spot on the arm of the throne, choking down her drink, her crafty eyes lit with mischief. 

“I could certainly get you in line, maybe,” Boba continues, brushing off your remark. “For the right price, which luckily for you, I happened to spare a few hours today free of any obligations.” 

“How generous of you, although you trust Fennec to hold the fort down?” 

“As if I need you questioning my authority here. I was told you came here willingly. Eager was the word used. “ 

“Eager?” You can’t help but raise a questioning brow. 

“Enthusiastic, insatiable and that was putting it mildly.” He chuckles, adjusting himself slightly on the throne, making no effort to move.  Fennec casually slipped away, tossing a knowing glance to you, which you ignored, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure, old man.” 

His fingers tap against the armrests of the throne, adjusting himself so his legs spread in a more relaxed position. What you didn’t expect was the index finger he crooked at you, patting his thigh in offering. “I would use your words wisely, little one.” 

You step closer, swallowing the bubbling excitement and thrill already coursing through your body. Once you’re an arm's length away you settle into his lap, surprised at how comfortable he is. You’d never imagined being on the lap of one of the most legendary and fearsome and lethal bounty hunters known to the galaxy. A wake of thrilling shivers follows the thought, and you can feel the smirk formed under Boba’s helmet. You huff in impatience, grasping the sides of his helmet, asking in silent question and he reaches up to gently pull it off, his face in all its battle scarred glory, brought to the light. You took a moment to compose yourself almost breathless just gazing into his piercing brown eyes locked on to you, the way your body pressed into his. 

His hands slowly trail along your body, gripping your waist tight. “Are you comfortable, mesh’la?” You can’t fight up the burning sensations building up inside you and you squirm. He smirked at your response, trailing his lips along your neck with the softest of touches, causing you to lean into him more, the sparks not letting up, the already sweltering heat embedding into your skin, daring to implode you with every touch he left. 

“Yes, it’s good.” 

One of his hands reached to trail a finger along your jaw, tilting your chin up a fraction, his lips brushing against yours. “What do you say, cyar’ika?” 

“Please,” the whispered plea fell from your lips before you could stop it, and his lips capture your own in a gentle fiery kiss, deepening with each plea falling from your lips as his hands wander along you, tracing up your thigh, daring to brush his fingers along you. “Fuck,” your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, and you bite back another groan. He smirks despite himself, hands gripping your waist, his fingers sliding under your waistband stroking you so slowly the ache burning coursing inside you, your senses already screaming in retaliation. He pulls his fingers away, chuckling, causing you to whimper at the loss. 

“All in due time, mesh’la; I want to take you on a ride to see the stars.”

He shifts under you slightly, his thigh pressing up against you when he shifts you over, and you bite your lip. He sucks marks along your neck, biting your lips harshly, enjoying the sight of you above him, and he cups your breasts in encouragement, causing you to groan. You hated to admit how embarrassingly soaked you are for him, grinding against him harder, fueled with desperation needing to chase that high he was driving you to in the brink of madness. . 

“My my jatisyc,” his hands grip your hips so tight; you are sure bruises will be there by morning and to hell with anyone who dared touch you. There would be no doubt among it that you were his and his alone. Your neck bruised as well, marked and claimed by the fearsome Boba Fett. He doesn’t let up, intent on getting you to your release of pleasure, murmuring praises and encouragement. “Just like that, cyar’ika, yes no one else can have you. Look at you riding my thigh so well. This is what you’ve wanted, hmm?” 

You don’t have room left to answer, for all you feel is the rush, a sob wrenching deep within your chest, you’re sure everyone near the vicinity can hear you, but you could care less, your mouth is dry and raw, all you can do is beg for more and he grips you tighter, willing you to continue riding him faster and harder, his hand slipping under your waistband, fingers pulling tricks to make you come undone once more only for him. It’s not long before he’s bringing you to your second release and you don’t fight it, crashing into his lips to suppress your moaning. 

He kisses you back with as much vigor, relishing in the conquest you both longed for. He removed his fingers and held your trembling body tight. “I think best you drink this,” he brushes back a stray lock of hair and hands you some water which you accept and sip slowly, allowing the coolness to sooth your burning throat. 

A blush forms on your face as your brain slowly begins to process the occurrence and you can't help but avoid his gaze, even as he strokes your back gently, allowing you to readjust back in his lap after getting himself under control. You can’t help but smirk and slightly wiggle against him. 

“Would you like to sit on something more comfortable? You had quite the exertion today.” He offers a small bemused grin. 

“I’m sure we could make use of the springs some other time, my daimyo. But tell me what else do you wish for?” 

He raises a brow. “Would you like me to answer? Because I’ve wanted to do that with you ever since you came here. Although, I do suppose I could leave a few more of my marks on you.

You roll your eyes in amusement, pecking his cheek, not doubting for a moment he truly left his mark. No one else could have you or lay claim to you for you were his and his alone. 

******

Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you’d like to be added to my tags

@bakerstreethound​ @disneymarina​ @groovy-lady​ @lilythemadqueen​ @starks-hero​

#the book of boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett smut #star wars #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x y/n

[saradika]

Boba Fett x F!Reader

—The Mistress and the Master - 7.3k

A game of Sabacc gets a little more interesting when you have to play it sitting on Boba’s lap.

— [Keep/Stay] Close to Me - 2.9k

Sometimes actions speak louder than words

— Hurts So Good - 6.2k

You find out what happens when you break both of Boba Fett’s rules.

— Wasteland, Baby - 40k

after emerging from your Vault, you find yourself saved by a mysterious man in armor (fallout au)

Little Mess Series (Kingpin!Boba x F!Reader)

— Little Mess - 4.6k | Tongue-Tied - 6.9k

“So let me get this straight,” His grip on you tightens, voice dropping to a growl. “You came up here and interrupted me at work, because you wanted me to fuck you? Did you really think that was a good idea?"

Boba Fett x F!Reader x Din Djarin

— Begging for Beskar (1) | Begging for Beskar (2)

Okay, if you were being honest, then yes. You had an armor kink. You think maybe he knew it, too.

When Din brings you to visit an old friend, you find yourself with more Beskar than you bargained for.

— Effective Comm-unication - 3.8k

Boba makes an interesting call to Din

— Kinktober Day 27 - Corruption - 2.4k

Boba was going to ruin you. Is ruining, maybe, if you’re not already.

Boba Fett x F!Reader x Fennec Shand

— Upon the Throne - 3.4k

After christening every other room in the Palace, there's one last place for them to make you theirs.

Boba Fett x Reader Drabbles

— Making You Feel Better - 2.6k

Boba massages you after a long day

— Kinktober Day 1 - Creampie - 2.4k

He came back… wrong.

— Smut Prompt Request - 2.1k

What Boba Thinks About on the Throne

— maybe I just wanna be yours - 1.9k

4 evenings spent in the company of Boba Fett

— Accidents Happen - 1.8k

Boba comforting you after breaking something

— Keeping Warm - <1k

Cuddling together for warmth

— Seducing OT!Boba Fett - <1k

Trying to seduce Boba Fett (Legends)

— Abronia Villosa - <1k

A dive into what it might mean to love and be loved in return by a man like Boba Fett.

5 Sentence Fics:

Boba Being in Charge - (Boba Fett x F!Reader)

Getting Off on Boba’s Voice - (Boba Fett x F!Reader)

Boba Fett + Toys - (Boba Fett x F!Reader)

Boba Has a Praise Kink - (Boba Fett x F!Reader)

Boba Loves Doggy Style - (Boba Fett x GN!Reader)

Boba Goes Pussydumb - (Boba Fett x F!Reader)

Painting Your Nails to Match Boba - (Boba Fett x F!Reader)

Boba Likes Blindfolding You - (Boba Fett x GN!Reader)

Flirting to make Boba Jealous - (Boba / Fennec x GN!Reader)

Using Boba for Pleasure - (Boba Fett x F!Reader)

Boba Likes To Mark You Up - (Boba Fett x F!Reader)

Sex with Boba After Being Apart - (Boba Fett x F!Reader)

Please join my taglist here!

#made a Boba Masterlist for TBOBF #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #tbobf #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett imagine #fic masterlist

[thefact0rygirl]

Hi Vee! Can I ask for a soft hurt/comfort with Boba? 🥺 It doesn't have to be long or complicated I just really need a hug and to dissociate from rl a bit.

I'm so sorry to hear that Alex! I'm sending you a big hug, and I hope this brings you some comfort 💚

boba fett x gn!reader (no warnings)

“Boba.”

It’s your voice that gets him. Hollow and splintered, you say it far too quietly for the size of the throne room, almost as if you almost don’t want to hear. He looks up from holopad, eyes landing on your shrunken frame. 

You’re at the foot of the dais, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. It’s barely noticeable, a subtle move only he would notice. Boba frowns at your neutral expression. It isn’t giving anything away, but your voice…The timidness in the sound. Something is wrong.

“Yes, cyare?”

“Hold me. Please.”

Your request is so out of the blue it leaves Boba stunned. You’re not one to disturb him during the day, always being respectful for his new position. But something is wrong, and it’s fairly serious for you to stand before him and request such unexpected intimacy. 

He blinks a few more times, but nods. Setting his holopad to the side, he opens his arms for you to situate yourself in his lap. Even as you curl into his frame and bury your face in his shoulders do you remain emotionless. He wraps his arms around you, biting his tongue to keep himself from asking. An explanation might be what Boba wants, but it isn’t what you need. 

You both sit quietly for a while and not once do you lift your head from its place. Even when Fennec comes in, calling for Boba but quickly quieting when she sees you wrapped up on his throne. He shoots Fennec a look, one of Not right now, before Fennec nods and exits. 

He keeps rubbing your back, even when he braves to as, “Is…is everything okay?”

“…Not really.”

He says nothing more, nodding gently against your head. He’s scared his own voice will start to shake. He isn’t quite sure how to take that or what to do; he rarely sees you so vulnerable and he isn’t sure how to handle it. He wants to fix whatever is causing you distress, but he isn’t sure how. He still tries, voice shaking as he timidly asks you, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

He feels your head shake against him and one of your hands going up to grip at the collar of his tunic. It’s a desperate action, as if your physical connection is the only thing tethering you to this world. 

“Okay,” Boba sighs, opting to ignore the itching in his brain to start a game of twenty one questions. Instead, he settles in and holds you tightly, as tight as he can. He leans his cheek down to rest on your head and breathes in deep. Your scent always calms him and there isn’t a point in having both of you upset. 

It takes a couple more minutes of stillness before you finally move. Pressing a thankful kiss to his neck, you pull away just enough to look into his eyes. Your voice is still small, but the edges seem to have softened.

“Can we move to your room?”

Boba smiles, an expression far softer than he ever thought he could make. “Let’s go.”

#boba fett x reader #boba fett x gn!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett drabble #vee answers #dreamland creations

[writeforfandoms]

Merry Go Round of Life 15

Find my masterlist

And here we are, the character I’ve been wanting to introduce for literally WEEKS. I’ve known who would fill this role since before I actually started writing this. Yes, I did in fact have too much fun with this chapter. 

Word Count: 1.1k

This one will be Din Djarin x f!reader eventually. Don’t hold your breath folks, this one’s a slow burn. Sort of.

Warnings: Some swearing, discussions of politics very briefly, discussion of war, King doing King stuff.

You took a minute to look around the throne room. It was pretty bare, apart from the dais and the throne. One wall had multiple large windows, allowing natural light in. The child in your arms cooed, also looking around. 

"It is rather grand," you agreed, voice hushed. "In a severe kind of way. I had no idea it would look like this." 

"And what did you expect?" 

You jumped, badly startled, and turned to look at the man behind you. His skin was brown, and you could see scars across his face. He was bald, and his eyebrows were drawn in a slight frown. 

"I'm not certain," you answered after a moment, when your heart had given up trying to jump out of your chest. "Something… brighter, I suppose. More wealthy, perhaps." 

"So you think the tax money should be used for useless baubles and ornamentation?" One eyebrow arced up his forehead. 

"I did not say that," you protested, shaking your head a little. "You asked what I expected, not what I approved of." 

His chuckle was low and rich, and surprising. "So I did," he agreed. He stepped away from you, opening a door to a closet, it looked like. He pulled out two chairs, offering one to you. "Sit, please." 

You sat, settling the child in your lap. "The king won't mind?"

The man paused and then chuckled again. "I am the king," he told you, clearly amused. "Boba Fett." 

You blinked at him and gave him your name. "Should I…?" You shifted the child and started to rise. 

He waved you back to sitting. "Unnecessary," he grunted. "Relax. Cody mentioned you came here on wizard business." 

You nodded. "Yes, er, Wizard Djarin sent me to… relay his orders?" You shrugged. "I admit I'm not entirely clear what I'm really doing here." 

The king stared at you. You stared back. This continued for several rather awkward moments. 

"You must be the witch from Kamino," he said at length. "I've heard about you." 

"You have?" You blinked at him, surprised. "I thought that was just in Kamino." 

He shook his head a little as he sat. "Word travels fast," he said. "I was surprised to hear that Djarin was letting anyone else help with his shop, however. He is notoriously stubborn."

You snorted. You couldn't help it. "Yes, that is one way of putting it," you agreed. "So, I suppose I’ll just pass on a message to Djarin for you?” 

The king was quiet, looking at you and the child. Then he leaned back in his seat, apparently deciding something. 

"Normally, I would demand Djarin come himself," he said, speaking slowly and deliberately. "Being king has a few perks. But he trusts you." 

You blinked at him, caught thoroughly off guard by that. Sure, you figured Djarin sort of trusted you, but for someone to say it so plainly?

The king chuckled. "He trusts you with his child and his shop," he pointed out with no small amount of amusement. "He trusts you." 

"Oh. I suppose so." You blinked down at the child, who blinked back. 

"So I will pass along his instructions to you," the king continued. "Djarin is to bring back Viszla to me, and then report for a council. I'll contact him when it's time for the council to convene." 

"Pardon me, but council for what?" You really couldn't help but ask. 

The king looked at you for a few long moments. From somewhere behind you, you heard a snort. You jumped, startled, and craned around to look. 

A woman was standing several feet behind you, wearing black with orange accents. She had on light armor, with a long weapon slung over her shoulder. She sauntered over to stand behind the king. 

"The council is in case of war," the king said slowly. "The jetii are growing bolder."

"The guard who brought me in mentioned that word. What does it mean?" 

The both of them stared at you, and finally the woman snorted. "Where did you grow up?"

"Kalevala." 

"I need to get over there more often," the king muttered. "Fennec, remind me later." 

The woman nodded, settling one hip against the back of his chair. 

"The jetii are growing ever bolder. They are the nation to the west of us," the king said, shaking his head a little. "We've been at war with them for decades." 

You thought about asking more questions, but honestly… You were pretty sure you would be pushing your luck. So you simply nodded and resolved to ask more of Djarin when you saw him next. 

"I'll be sure to pass along the message," you agreed. 

The king nodded, and something about his expression caught your attention. You tipped your head a little, studying him. You recognized him from somewhere. You definitely knew him from somewhere, but where? 

"Fennec, will you show our guest out?" 

Fennec, the woman, nodded and started towards you. "Want me to take the child for you?" 

"It's okay, he's not heavy." You looked the king over again, trying to figure out where you'd seen him before. Or who he reminded you of. 

"Was there something else?" The king raised one eyebrow, more or less patient. 

"Oh!" Your eyes went wide as you realized. "Do you have brothers?" 

The king stopped. And then sighed, loudly. Fennec started to laugh. 

"Yes," the king grunted. "Of a sort. Far too many of them." 

"I think I met one, in Kamino," you said, a little tentatively. Fennec only laughed harder. 

"You've met more than one," the king growled with absolutely no explanation. He stood and waved a hand. "Tell Djarin." And with that, he swept out of the room. 

You blinked down at the child. Huh. Weird. But you stood, and Fennec walked with you back down the veritable maze of corridors. 

"You'll be fine on your own?" She asked as the two of you approached the huge doors. 

"I'll be fine," you agreed. "Thank you for walking me out." 

Fennec chuckled. "Not a problem. Take care." She stopped and nodded to a guard, who offered you his arm. 

"Take your time, ma'am," the guard assured you. 

"Cody?" You guessed, recalling the name the king had mentioned. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"Thank you." You smiled as you took his arm, making your way slowly down the stairs. 

"If you need to get up here again, ask for one of us," he told you as he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "We'll help." 

"Thank you very much. You take care." You patted his arm and started off on your own again. You had a wizard to report back to.

--

Taglist: @saradika @zinzinina @miraclesabound @ohheyitsokay @quica-quica-quica @queridopascal  @fandom-blackhole @pedrocentric @shoopidly @beskarprincessjenny @sarahjkl82-blog @cannedsoupsucks @liviiii98 @adriiibell @seasonschange-butpeopledont @princessxkenobi @thirddeadlysin @pbeatriz @oonajaeadira @kiizhikehn-cedar @withakindheartx @linkpk88 @evyiione @janebby @anditsmywholeheart @amneris21 @recklessworry @the-feckless-wonder @kotemorons @pedrostories @grogusmum @eri16 @idreamofboobear @pintsizemama @stevie75 @luxmundee @kirsteng42 @reader-without-a-story @5pectre @alexxavicry @elegantduckturtle @litakino  @pjkimrn @jaime1110 @trash-dino-5000 @mandalwhorean  @dessinemoiunehistoire-blog​ @mswarriorbabe80 @lowlights @magikfanatic @bruxasolta @hb8301 @chaoticgeminate @eri 

#merry go round of life #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader

[maybege]

Booth Jazz

Summary: You and Boba explore a little fantasy – as a treat. (Part 4 of Midnight Special)

Pairing: hot dad!Boba Fett x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4.0k

Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom/sub relationship, exhibitionism, almost getting caught, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, consensual degradation and namecalling, multiple orgasms, creampie, car sex, mention of somnophilia, also these two idiots have feelings

I know it’s been a while but I hope that some of you are still interested in this little project. Updates will remain irregular for a while but you can look up the most recent posting schedule here. As always, big shout out to @ayybtch for enduring my thirsting for hot dad!Boba. I hope you all have an amazing start into the week and let me know what you think of this chapter!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“Back again, huh?” the man behind the counter greeted you, “And on a Thursday no less.”

“Yeah,” you smiled sheepishly, nervously motioning to the menu, “Could I get a cider please?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he nodded, wiping it one more time before grabbing a glass from behind him. You waited patiently, looking around the room and finding that while it was a little more crowded than last time you had been here, you recognized none of the people which was a good thing.

The last time you had been here, it was a weekend with live music. Now it was a Thursday evening which meant that there was a sports game of some sort playing on the large TVs, the centre of attention of the patrons that were there.

It did not escape you that the bartender looked you over, no doubt noticing your very fancy outfit for a Thursday night. Then again, he had never seen you wear anything else.

“Here you go,” the full glass slid towards you, leaving a wet trail on the polished wood, he nodded towards the end of the room, “Should I put it on his tab?”

“That would be great, thanks,” you smiled, taking your glass in hand before making your way to the direction he had nodded towards.

No one paid you any mind, the game being a finale of some sort. Still, you felt as though everybody. You were wearing a dark green cocktail dress, the fabric shiny in the low light and the neckline lower than what you usually wore. And, when the light shone just right, revealing the texture f the lace of your bra underneath. The fabric felt cool and smooth against your hot skin you felt as if everybody could see up your skirt even though the hem hit your knees with every step.

Your steps quickened when you spotted a single man occupying one of the booths at the very end of the room. He was looking down at his phone, intentionally paying you no mind and a coy smile slipped on your lips.

Without stopping, you raised your legs, making to climb over his lap as he was blocking one entry to the bench. Boba’s hand shot up, gripping your hip and keeping you standing over him while his eyes roamed over your figure.

You bit your lip, seeing how his eyes darkened when they landed on your chest, your nipples already pebbled and visibly through the fabric.

“Is this seat taken?” you asked teasingly, shivering when his hand left your hip, trailing down your legs until it simply fell to his side.

“Not at all,” he rasped, motioning to the free space next to him, “Feel free.”

You settled down next to him in the booth, Boba’s arm immediately coming to rest around your shoulders.

“Hello there, little one,” he rumbled, turning his face to press a kiss against your mouth. It already made you clench your thighs, your anticipation building a thick knot in your lower belly.

He groaned, his tongue dipping inside your mouth to taste you and you thanked the stars that the lights were dimmed in the room or else everybody would see you getting in a heated make-out session with him. His other hand went to your bare thigh, big fingers splaying over the soft flesh as he gripped it and patted your legs.

Your breathing came heavy as his mouth wandered to your jaw and behind your ear. “Sorry, I’m late,” you breathed out, leaning your head back against the plush leather of the booth, “Work ran later than I wanted it to. How can I make it up to you?”

Boba chuckled into your ear, the sound low and gravelly and sending a rush of wetness between your thighs. You already knew he had the filthiest thing in mind and you were so here for it. Your walls fluttered around nothing. All day you had been looking forward to tonight, barely able to focus on work, and now that you were here, it was as if you were already on the edge.

“I want you to take off your panties for me, little one,” he instructed hoarsely, pulling your legs open even further, “I want to finger you right here in the pub and I want you to stay good and quiet for me. Can you do that for me, princess?”

You grinned widely, putting your hand on his and pulling it in between your thighs. “I’m not wearing any … sir,” you bit your bottom lip, suppressing a gasp when you felt his middle finger swipe through your already wet folds, “you can do whatever you want with me. I’m all yours.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he praised you, his thumb circling your clit and you felt heat rise to your cheeks at the wet sounds that came from between your legs.

“Stars, you’re wet for me,” he praised you, “Good girl. Gripping my fingers real tight, hm?”

The bar erupted in cheers at the game, chairs scraping on the floor as some stood up, calling for new rounds of beer and high fiving each other.

You whimpered, breath catching in your throat as Boba used the cover of their noise to speed up his movements. Your legs shook and you weakly tried to put your hand on his, pulling them away from your cunt as the knot in your belly tightened. Everything felt warm – hot– and tight and you felt yourself clamp around him, your feet trembling in the heels you were wearing.

Boba mumbled something you did not understand and suddenly his hand was gone and you whined at the loss, arching your hips. But then his hand came back, slapping your pussy and your hand flew to your mouth, biting into your palm as he pulled an orgasm out of you so strongly you were surprised you did not leave an entire wet patch on the floor.

Leaning back against the bench, you felt dizzy and sweaty and

Boba had sat up slightly, his body covering you from anyone who might decide to look into your general direction. He was looking over you, his face dark as his fingers lipped back inside you. Immediately your walls clamped around the digits again and bit your lip, doing your best to remain quiet.

There was the tell-tale bulge in his jeans and you weakly raised your hand to touch him. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, you could feel the heat of him and your mouth watered at the thought of getting him into your mouth. Of licking the precoma from his tip before having him push his cock so far down your throat it would make tears appear in the corner of your eyes.

“Fuck I want to sit you on my cock so bad,” he cursed under his breath, his fingers not ceasing their movements and you whimpered, “but that would be a little too obvious, wouldn’t it? You’re too much of a cock slut to stay quiet.“

Boba curled his fingers inside you, slowly rubbing his long fingers against that spongy spot inside you while his thumb swiped over your clit and you bit into his shoulder, feeling slightly sorry for the nice shirt he was wearing as you tried to muffle your sounds. How had you just come and still craved his touch?

Your walls clenched around him. The sounds of the bar echoed in your ears, seemingly getting louder with every thrust of Boba’s fingers inside you. There were people everywhere. And here you were creaming around Boba’s thick fingers as he whispered pure filth into your ear.

“Need you to be quiet for me, little one,” he reminded you with a chuckle, completely pressed up against you, “unless you want everyone to know what a good girl you are for me.”

You nodded frantically, trying your best to keep quiet. But then you saw him look down and you followed his line of sight and the whole staying quiet thing became much more difficult. Because with how you had spread your legs, your dress had ridden up, revealing his thick fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, glistening from your juices.

A quiet moan left you. one that Boba immediately swallowed up with a heated kiss. His thumb

“If you keep this up you’re going to have to let them watch.”

You knew he did not really mean the second one. Early on in your text messages, he had told you he was not one to share – “And certainly not you, little one” – but his words still flustered you and you squeezed around his fingers.

“Have I told you how much I love this?” he whispered into your ear, clearly trying to coax another orgasm out of you and with the way your pussy got even wetter at his deep voice, it was clearly working.

You shook your head breathlessly, feeling your cheeks heat with anticipation as his teeth grazed your earlobe.

“All we said to each other today was hello before I had my fingers buried in this tight cunt of yours,” he revealed, “You did not even ear any panties, you’re that much of a slut for me. Letting me fuck you right in the booth where we first met.”

You whimpered, thankful for the loud cheers of the other patrons, and bit your lips, trying to ignore how good his degrading words made you feel. But Boba knew you and he could read your body like an open book.

With a teasing smirk on his lips, his other hand came up to your neckline, pushing it to the side and when his thumb caught the lace edge of your bra he just pulled it with him. And suddenly not only were you getting fingered undeath the table but one of your tits was bared to the warm air of the bar.

You gaped at Boba’s confidence before your mouth clamped shut trying to keep your sounds in when he started to play with your nipple. “One more,” he encouraged you, “one more time around my fingers and then we can do whatever we want,” he promised you hotly, his fingers pinching and pulling your nipple.

From the corner of your eyes, you spotted someone making their way to the washrooms. Which meant that had to pass by you. Your heart jumped in your throat and your limbs locked up, the pleasure threatening to become too much while the fear of being discovered rendered you silent.

Boba seemed to notice it too, a dark look forming in his eyes as his fingers sped up. He shifted, his body now completely covering yours in the dark booth. “C’mon,” he growled, his thumb flicking over the bundle of nerves, “Either you come right now or you don’t come at all.”

The drunken man stumbled a little, clearly intoxicated, as he supported himself on a table on the other side of the aisle. Boba made a sound at the back of his throat, forcing you to look at him and your breath caught in your throat, walls rhythmically clenching around your fingers.

There was a determination in his eyes and suddenly your entire chest was bared and Boba leant down, biting into the soft flesh of your left breast and you came.

It took everything in you to not slump forward and be seen by everyone in the bar but sideways into Boba’s body, every muscle in your body tensing before relaxing into what felt like melted butter as wetness coated Boba’s fingers.

You closed your eyes, completely out of breath, uncaring that your tits were still very much out in the open.

“Good girl,” Boba mumbled against your temple, pressing a kiss against your cheek as his fingers slowed their thrusts until he pulled them entirely from you, “My goof fucking girl.”

You smiled dreamily, pushing your face into the crook of his neck, “Thank you for making me come, Boba.”

He chuckled and you felt his chest move with the sound. “You’re very welcome, little one,” he rumbled, “How are you feeling?”

Shifting in your seat you grimaced as you felt the wat patch between and under your thighs. The leather was slippery and your skin felt like it was glued to it.

“Sticky,” you answered truthfully, heat shooting into your cheeks, “Stars, I am so embarrassed, I – it feels like I left a puddle. They will know what we did and –“

“Let me worry about that okay?” he interrupted you gently and you watched with wide eyes as he slipped his fingers into his mouth, making a show of sucking and licking your juices from his skin. His dark eyes kept looking at you and you felt your lower belly clench with want.

Stars knew you would not be able to come again so easily but you needed him.

“Let’s go to your car,” you breathed, your hands falling to his thighs, “I – I need you.”

“But you haven’t even finished your drink, little one,” the older man teased you, his lips dragging over your shoulder as he helped you to straighten out your dress. The soft fabric felt cold against your heated skin and you were glad that you had chosen a dark colour because you were sure otherwise everybody would be able to see the stains on it as it plastered to your wet skin.

“I don’t care, I don’t want it,” you pouted, one hand rubbing him through his jeans and you noted with a hint of satisfaction that his jaw tensed as he tried to keep it together, “I only want you.”

“Good, then promise me you won’t get angry with me, princess.”

Your frowned, “What-“

Something wet and cold spilled over both of you – but mainly you. You gasped at the shock, the cider immediately soaking through the fabric of your dress and you scooted away from him, quickly making a grab for some napkins that you pressed on your lap.

“Oh no,” Boba said drily, wiping his hands on a dark patch on his jeans, “I better go ask the bartender for something to clean up this mess with.”

Only now did you realize what exactly Boba had done. Because with you scooting away, the glass had not stopped spilling – it simply spilled on the already wet leather now. Which meant Boba had the perfect cover to wipe down the table and the bench and no one would be the wiser.

Well, except for you.

He came back a moment later with a rag and motioned for you to stand up which you did readily, grimacing at the sticky feeling. You watched as Boba bent over the bench, thoroughly wiping everything away and making sure not a trace of your activities was left before he stood up again.

“There we go,” he mumbled, eyes roaming over your form and his lips quirked up, “And I am sure you don’t want to stay here in these wet clothes, little one. I think I might have a shirt back in the car that you could borrow. Sound good?”

You smiled, “very good.”

Boba smiled, one arm wrapping around your waist as he guided you out of the bar. The other patrons were so busy with the game they did not even notice you leave.

The front of the bar was completely abandoned and you smiled when he led you into an all-familiar alley. “Keep it in your pants, little one,” Boba joked, passing the spot where he had first thrust inside you, “I’m not gonna fuck you against this brick wall again.”

Your shoulders fell, “Why not?”

“Because there are so many other places I want to fuck you first.”

“Oh?”

But Boba ignored your very obvious interest in that line of conversation as he led you to the parking lot at the back of the building. Much like the bar, there were a few cars there but it was not too crowded which meant that you recognized Boba’s truck immediately, your steps speeding up the closer you got.

The headlights lit up as he unlocked it and you smiled when he passed the driver’s door and instead opened the back door.

“Not to forget the secret wish a little birdie told me,” he smiled, settling himself in the back seat, already fiddling with his belt.

You hiked your dress up, “Which is?”

Boba grinned wolfishly, clearly happy with how the evening had progressed and his warm hands found your hips, pulling you on top of him. You looked down to where he was freeing himself from his briefs, thick and heavy and already leaking precome.

“That someone would very much like to be fucked in her sleep,” he revealed, a knowing look in his eyes and once again Boba Fett managed to fluster you, “but you did not expect me to say that now did you?”

“How did you know?” you asked, softly gasping when his hands once again pushed the neckline of your dress out of the way before pulling down the soft cups from your bra, revealing your tits to the cold night air.

“A hunch,” he shrugged, “That and the fact that you were begging me to fuck you by the time you were half asleep,” his fingers rolled your nipples between them, “I believe your exact words were I don’t mind if I wake up with your cock inside me, Sir.”

Both embarrassment and pleasure coursed through and you threw your head back, “Oh stars.”

A loud groan left him when your wet folds rubbed up against his shaft. “Fuck, little one, don’t think I will last long tonight. Not like that.”

But you did not let him deteriorate from your mission. With one hand supporting yourself on his shoulder, the other pumped his cock, keeping him steady so that you could sink down in him in one go. You wanted all of him and you wanted it fast and hard.

“I don’t need to come, Boba,” you replied breathlessly, working yourself onto him, “I – I just want you to come inside me, please. W-Want you to fill me up again so I can feel you tomorrow.”

The sound he let out was beautiful and you let your hands drift over his shoulders down to the fabric that was covering him. You lifted yourself up in the process, relishing in how thick he was inside you, how he seemed to rub against your walls in only the best way, before sinking down again, the sudden movement causing a slapping sound.

Quickly unbuttoning his shirt, your hands roamed over his chest and belly, exploring his tattoos. Boba moaned, his hand squeezing your tits and massaging them roughly, sometimes venturing to circle your nipples and pull them just how you liked it.

“Feel so good,” he brought out, his hips starting to meet yours and you lost your rhythm, simply letting him fuck up into you, “Tightest little pussy just for me.”

You buried your face in his neck, whining at the way he kept using you to get off. Shit, you knew you would not come again and yet there was something so very hot about Boba for once only being concerned with his pleasure.

A broad hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you away from him until you were face to face. “Look at me,” he ordered breathlessly, his eyes glassy and you leant forward, kissing him as hard you could. With every thrust, his cock seemed to reach deeper inside you and your clit rubbed against his belly, more or less accidentally stimulating you.

“You really just want me to come inside you, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

His hand tightened, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “Say it.”

“I just want you to come inside me,” you squeaked out, your “Please, I just want you to come inside me. Just use me. Please use me. Pleasepleasepleaseplease –“

He surged forward, teeth clashing against yours and his hips snapped up even harder. He was close, you could feel it in the way he hardened inside you, how his hand tightened around your neck and how his breathing became shallow, dark eyes locking with yours.

And then he came.

The car windows were foggy and your eyes rolled back in your head when the feeling of his seed spilling inside you triggered the surprising third orgasm of the night. You felt warm and full, Boba’s solid body underneath yours the one thing that grounded you in reality.

Catching your breath, you cuddled into his chest, ignoring how his come started to trickle out of you around his cock while Boba gently brushed your back, his lip pressing soft kisses wherever he could reach.

“Thank you for coming inside me,” you mumbled sweetly and grinned when you felt him twitch inside you again.

“Stars, woman,” he groaned, running his hand over his face, “You are really going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

You laughed, “I hope not.”

It was silent for a moment before both of became aware that you were indeed very much in public and that it only needed one patron to come out to notice what you had done. Which meant that, as slowly as possible, you pulled away from each other.

“Here,” he whispered, reaching behind him and handing you a dark t-shirt, “This might be more comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, pecking his lips before quickly changing in front of him, “So what do we do now?”

Boba looked down, focussing on re-buttoning his shirt. “I have an idea.”

*

For a moment, you had feared that he would drive you home already.

But that fear dissipated quickly when he turned into the local fast food’s drive-in.

He got each of you a burger and a milkshake and some fries to share, depositing them between your seats. Still parked behind the neon sign of the drive-in, you mostly ate in silence, quickly devouring your food and drinks while smiling and looking warmly at each other.

Neither one of you wanted to address the elephant in the room.

Only when the music on the radio changed from Electro House something to Calm Country go home music did Boba start the car again, taking the route to get you home.

“When’s your flight?” you asked into the quiet, pressing a kiss against his neck. Your heart was still racing in your chest and with the slight sheen of sweat on your skin, you shivered from the cool night air that came through the window you had cracked open.

“Four a.m.” he replied, a large truck passing you, “A buddy of mine is going to drive me to the airport.”

You hummed, looking out the window. You had been so excited for tonight, for good reason too, but now you felt as if the little time you had, had passed way too quickly. You wanted to hold on to him, this, for just a few hours longer but a look at the dashboards clock – 2:30 am – told you there was no that was going to happen.

“Two weeks,” you sighed, slumping against his side, “I’m going to miss you.”

Boba’s hand slipped from the gearshift to your thigh, lightly squeezing your knee, “I will miss you too, little one. Did not think an all-inclusive business trip to Hawaii would have me this hesitant.”

Neither one of you said anything as he kept driving, the city sights soon turning into familiar streets and your heart ached as he pulled into the parking lot in front of your apartment complex. It was completely abandoned and only the street lamp Boba had parked in front offered a little light.

Both of you remained sitting in the car and it calmed you somewhat that Boba seemed as reluctant to let you go as you were.

“Will – will you text?” you asked, turning to the side to face him while your hand already rested on the doorknob.

He looked serious, then, nodding slowly as if getting used to the thought. “Yeah, little one,” he whispered, “I will.”

As you hurried up the stairs to your apartment, confident that none of your neighbours would be awake to see you only in a slightly too long shirt, you wondered if this something between you could be more than a booty call.

#maybege writes #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x reader #smut #boba fett smut

[janghoefett]

Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 9

BOBA FETT X F!READER

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ NO MINORS Pairing: F/M Chapter word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Princess gets a little hot and heavy with Jamie (yes, you read that right), a b!ner, prison, nekkid ppl, major grief and dark thoughts over news of reader’s death (!!!).

SERIES MASTERLIST

——————————–

You hadn’t heard from Boba in weeks and it was eating away at you.

You felt empty, sick almost daily, as you started to doubt whether or not you had made the right decision by staying to fulfill your duties. You were finally working as you should, Jamie was actually on good behavior trying to be of help, and for the first time since you could remember, there seemed to be hope for your planet.

But you were miserable.

You found yourself staring at the comlink Boba gave you at least twice a day. The device had been dead silent, and in a strange way it was a comforting reminder of the way the stoic bounty hunter would stand in silence at your side for hours on end. There was something about it that didn’t feel right, however. There was something wrong and you could feel it in your bones.

Boba Fett was a love you never thought you’d find. It was a love that made your legs weak, that had bound your souls together and made all other men seem inferior. He was the first man to treat you with care... and through the love that he gave, you felt yourself grow into your adulthood under his gaze. He had shown you how strong you were, he had made you sure of yourself, and he made you feel worthy of love when others had not.

Your story with Boba Fett could not be over.

It’s a frigid night; you lay in your dark room clutching the comlink, your only lifeline to the man you love, twirling it with uncertainty before you raise it to your lips. “Boba, please come in,” you whisper from your cold bed. “Boba. Please.”

Static.

You begin to cry softly when it becomes clear you would receive no response. Acting on pure intuition, you throw the covers off of your body and slip into your robe. You tiptoe down the dark hallway of your new home until you reach the isolated room on the opposite end. You’re torn between rage and an anxious motivation as you knock on the door, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

Jamie is disheveled and handsome standing there in the dim light. He looms over you with a knowing smile and your body tenses. “To what do I owe the pleasure, princess?” he drawls.

You’re empowered by a newfound confidence, something that had grown and prospered in Boba’s hands... and you were going to use it to get what you want. You brush past him and let yourself into his room, allowing your hips sway as his gaze trails your form. “I just want to talk,” you smile coyly. 

Jamie shuts the door behind him and smiles darkly. You take a seat at the foot of his bed and lean back leisurely, exposing the delicate skin of your chest revealed by your robe. “We haven’t talked in a while,” you continue.

“And is this how you talk now, princess?” Jamie smirks as he saunters towards you. “Coming into my bedroom wearing that little robe?”

Parting your legs slightly and beckoning him closer with a suggestive smile, Jamie sits beside you and pulls you onto his lap. You freeze the moment his lips come to yours; you cross your legs over his and grind yourself down assuredly, quickly easing the prince into a relaxed state.

It feels good. Between his soft moans and his hardening cock that you can feel between your legs, your eyes flutter shut in an attempt to quell your nerves.

“Why the sudden change, princess?” he breathes.

"You finally stopped asking me about Boba Fett,” you reply.

Jamie takes your head between his hands and guides your face back to his, kissing your lips with want. “That’s because I know there’s nothing to ask,” the prince explains.

“Oh yeah?” you ask with another kiss. “Why’s that?”

“Because your boyfriend is in prison. I put him there.”

There it was. You had found the answer you had been searching for. As the smile on your face falls, you stand up cooly and wipe your mouth, concealing your anger as you turn for the door.

“Boba, come in,” Jamie whines in a high pitched voice, mocking your earlier pleas. “Boba, please!”

You stop in your tracks. Your composure seems to vanish in the blink of an eye at the invasion of your privacy and of the terrible trick he had played. “Where is it?!” you seethe. “Where is the comlink?”

He only shrugs. It didn’t matter, however - the deed was already done. “Goodnight, Jamie,” you bite.

“Goodnight,” he calls from the bed.

You march back to your bedroom and seal the door behind you, quickly powering up your communications console to record a hologram.

“Greetings, mighty Jabba. I’ve heard you have been looking for your missing shipments amongst the mid-Rim, and that even your finest hunters couldn’t bring the culprit to justice. Well, look no further. I’ll give you the man you’ve been looking for: Jamie Barso. Yes, your suspicions were correct. I urge you to send no less than three men as he will be a difficult target to secure. Rest assured I expect nothing in return, except the promise of a discreet capture, which will be payment enough...”

If everything was going up in flames, you were going to ensure that Jamie burned the worst.

-----------------------

“Sir, the situation in Arcada has become dire.”

Grand Moff Tarkin stands overlooking his fleet of Star Destroyers. He cocks an eyebrow at the statement and turns to find the man who had decided it pertinent to tell him. “How so?” he wonders. “I can hardly believe anything on that planet could amount to having the importance of dire...”

“Our Arcadan conduit has been captured by the Hutts for racketeering their merchandise. There are no more natural resources the planet can give us. Despite the royal marriage, the planet is still on the brink of a civil war. They’re an embarrassment.”

Tarkin’s cold blue eyes assess the younger man, unmoved. “And what do you suggest I do about it... admiral?”

“I believe it is the perfect time to observe this space station’s full operational power,” the admiral suggests. “There is no better candidate. There is not a single person who would know or care of their downfall.”

Tarkin turns away and straightens his posture with a smile. “Very well,” he agrees. “Set coordinates to the Middle Rim.”

-------------------------

Prison was a familiar place. Boba was not allowed the luxury of visitors or communication with the outside world, and he was going out of his mind wondering if you were okay. Had Jamie taken his frustrations out on you? Did you even know what had happened? There were whispers amongst the imprisoned men, talks of the Empire’s growing power, but never anything about Arcada. Never anything to give Boba peace of mind.

She’s a grown woman. Smart, too. She can take care of herself, he tried to tell himself. 

It was true. But you didn’t know what he knew, and Boba wasn’t sure if he could allow you to further subject yourself to the whims of a madman. Although from where he was sitting... it would appear he had no choice. It was during his time in prison that Boba came to realize just how deep his love ran for you, how you consumed his thoughts at all hours of the day, and how he burned to feel your love in kind.

I’ll come for you, girl, he thinks as his eyes close. I’ll find a way to get out of here and I’ll free you... I’ll do anything...

Boba paces his cell. For days he had been assessing every corner of his confinements in search of a weak point. He had escaped this prison before - and he was going to make damn sure he’d do it again.

“You’re free to go, Boba,” a familiar voice announces, stirring Boba from his thoughts.

The prisoner cocks an eyebrow at the use of his first name. It was a clone trooper speaking, one of the few who remained subservient to the Empire. “You’re a dying breed, aren’t you?” Boba huffs in bitter amusement.

The clone is silent as he assesses his unaltered counterpart. “Looks to me as if there’s one too many,” he quips in response.

The man sets a sealed pod on the table containing the bounty hunter’s armor and all the belongings that were on his body at the time of his arrest. “You expect me to believe I can go just like that?” Boba rasps. He doesn’t so much as reach for his belongings; instead, he looks the man over with a skeptical eye and peers down the corridor in a search of an explanation. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. You were being held for crimes under a jurisdiction that is no longer recognized by the Empire,” the clone explains simply.

Boba freezes. The man’s words held no sense - in fact, they were utterly terrifying. “Why wouldn’t Arcada be under the jurisdiction of the Empire anymore?” Boba asks harshly.

The trooper gives no reply.

“You mean to tell me I can walk out of this prison and no one will stop me?” Boba presses.

“If you leave now... yes.”

In silent understanding, Boba dresses in haste and is ushered through the innards of the prison.

As Boba steps out to the light of day as a free man, there is an air about the city dwellers that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand. They speak in whispers, there’s an overwhelming sense of grim secret shared amongst them. Boba walks quickly towards where his ship awaited him, using the toggle on the side of his helmet to increase his range of hearing.

Did you hear of the missing planet? No one knows how it vanished. 

It didn’t vanish - it turned to dust. Everything and everyone on that planet is gone. It’s the Empire, I know it.

No, it can’t be. Not even the Empire could make a planet disappear. 

Then how else do you explain the death of Arcada? There will be others. Just you wait.

Boba raises his hands to the side of his head and closes his eyes. The chatter is deafening, it rises until no more words could be made out and only a scream could be heard. 

What good was his freedom if her heart was no longer beating?

---------------

He wakes up to the faint glow of the early morning. His arm is draped over her soft stomach and his tired eyes watch as her bare breasts rise and fall with calm, steady breaths. He runs his coarse hand lightly across her smooth skin until her lips relax into a content pout.

How different things seemed in morning. He had taken her in the night, he had made her shake and cry with pleasure until he found himself muttering just how much he adored her as they both went still with release... and now in the morning light, Boba marvels at how warm silence could be when shared with another.

The bounty hunter presses a kiss to her shoulder with a faint smile. The princess could sleep for as long as she’d like, Boba wouldn’t mind. He would be there when she wakes.

---------------

Everything was silent.

Boba Fett stares into the vacuum of space from the cockpit of Slave I. The large ship is frigid, its metal hull chilled and empty. His gloved hands grip the console tightly and his jaw locks until his teeth ache. 

The silence is deafening. 

It’s the kind of silence that feels like drowning, and it builds and builds inside of his gut until it can no longer be contained. His tired body goes rigid and something foreign rises through his chest until it breaks free with a pained sob.

Boba changes everything that reminds him of you.

He shaves his head in the tarnished mirror because he can feel the ghost of your fingers brushing through his hair, tugging at his curls as he made love to you.

He discards the cloak that he wrapped you in because he could still smell that night on the coarse fabric.

He bathes incessantly in hopes it will scrub the guilt and the memories from his skin.

But no matter what he did, he couldn’t get you out of his head. He wanted to stop thinking. He didn’t want to feel anything. He just wanted it to stop. So, Boba does the only thing he ever really knew how to do:

He hunts.

He throws himself into his work and he rips the galaxy apart in his anguish. He’s bitter and broken and he knows it would break your heart. 

People die. Boba knew that more than anyone. He just never wished he had died too.

--------------------

NEXT CHAPTER

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#boba fett #boba fett x reader #smoke and mirrors #star wars #fan fiction

[dreamlandcreations]

Day 12 - Does it really matter?

Boba Fett x Reader

Kinktober prompt - Day 12 - Begging

All prompts are taken from @the-purity-pen​‘s Kinktober List!

Warnings: sex pollen trope (not dubcon at all), talk of death, angst, significant age gap (reader is about 20, Boba is Tem's age), fingering, PiV, unprotected sex

•

"What was in it?" Boba Fett demands to know, holding a woman by her throat. He was attacked at a treaty discussion in a planet not too far from Tatooine. Only, the noble lady who hosted him didn't aim for the kill as it seems.

"Nothing too deadly. I'm sure she'll figure it out soon." The smile on the wicked woman's face turns diabolical just before the ex-bounty hunter snaps her neck with a fickle move of his hand before he hurried back to your side.

Proving your loyalty by taking a poisoned dart for your king didn't appear to be such a good idea anymore. You could hardly breath, your vision getting hazy, your skin felt like it was on fire.

"You are burning up." He says worriedly after he checked for your visible symptoms and put away the poisonous object to examine for the venom at the palace.

•

"We're almost home, hang on." Boba tried his best to calm you down as he pushed Slave I to its limits, but no matter what you did it was just getting worse and worse. You stripped away most of your clothes but the heat was getting unbearable.

Squirming in place in the other seat, your body started to get all tingly, when you realised just what kind of drug you've been poisoned with.

You let out a whimper that made Boba look at you. He immediately regretted this as he got a good look at your almost naked body while you were grabbing onto the arm of the seat and trying to find friction by squeezing your thighs together and rolling your hips desperately.

"I can't wait, Boba. It hurts." He couldn't take his eyes off you, he dreamed about you like this so many times. But he knew this could take more than a day to get actually dangerous for you and he wasn't so mesmerised to not be aware of your lack of control now.

"I know, ad'ika. I know. But you just have to take it for a little longer." He would never take advantage of you, so he would endure this hopefully short way back to that damned dessert planet and drink himself to oblivion while someone else helps you.

You had other plans though. "No! You can help... "

Getting out of the seat and wiggling to him until you fall into his lap and he steadies you with firm hands around your waist. The touch even through the remaining material is still calming for your hypersensitive skin.

"Please help me, please, please make the pain go away." You are not above begging now. True, normally you would keep your distance and wouldn't dare to ask anything so beyond the limits of your friendly relationship.

"We are almost there and Din can help you." He tries to stand up but you move towards him to remain there and convince him somehow.

"I don't want him. I only want you. I need you. Please, Boba, I'm begging you. Please?" The begging and the tears break his heart but he doesn't let on.

"I can't, ad'ika. You'd regret it. If you were yourself, you wouldn't even consider asking me." He denies you again before moving you back to your seat and focusing on counting the minutes until you can reach your destination, while you try to hold back your sobs at the evident refusal to even think about being with you.

As soon as you land, Boba carries you inside, finding Fennec and ordering her to get help for you while he takes you to your room.

"Get the Mandalorian for her, she needs him."

•

Boba is truly heartbroken now, he sits on his throne in the abandoned, dark room with an empty bottle, dressed in casual clothes, not having the care to take back on the armour after he cleaned up from your disastrous trip. He is trying, and failing, not to think about you. His brooding only stops to turn to anger when a familiar figure enters the room.

"Why aren't you with her?" Boba raises his voice as he stands up, ready to confront him in a fight if he hurt you in any way. The other man seems calm, though, maybe a little bit sad, as much as it can be convened through all that metal.

"She doesn't want me." Mando states quietly, in an even voice. "She said she only ever wanted you, but she won't bother you again. So I left to give her some peace."

"Are you out of your mind?! She will die if this drug doesn't get out of her system." Boba was displaying more emotion than Din ever saw, he never even heard the king of this castle raise his voice before. Now he looked like he was ready to kill but Mando was confident he could persuade the stubborn man to give up this ridiculous need to hold back and just give you both what you want.

"She knows and she still refused me." His answer is a stunned silence. Boba actually stops and thinks clearly for a second, before arriving to the conclusion that you are still very much of yourself and you do want him. Then the horrifying realisation hits him too, that you wanted him, asked for him, then begged for him and he refused you. Not only that but he left you to suffer because of his insecurities, which now bubble up before he can stop himself.

"I'm way too old for her." Din doesn't judge, he just titles his head to the side a little and asks a question as gently as it is possible.

"Does it really matter?"

"For fuck's sake, Djarin, I could be her grandfather." Din only huffs at the outburst and lectures the older man without fear.

"She's not a child, Fett, she made her decision and she obviously doesn't care about any of that." Boba is silent again, returning to his natural state now that his thoughts do not overwhelm him so much.

The Mandalorian turns to leave but cannot help to push his idiot friend one more time.

"You should go to her... before it's too late."

•

Boba steps into your darkened room, slowly getting close to your still form, before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Ad'ika?" He asks for your attention, gently brushing your hair.

"Go away." You say with your back to him, your voice not as firm as you'd like but there is still a snap to it so that'll have to do. But your King, ever the stubborn man, refuses to move.

"I'm not leaving you like this." He says gently, trying to reassure you he didn't mean to cause you pain.

"You already have, you made it perfectly clear you don't want me, so just go away and let me die in peace." Even the snap is gone, you've given up, you are just trembling in pain, your voice is strained by the held back cries and your are only waiting for the end.

"Like hell I will." It really wasn't a wise choice for you to say that. He grabs you by your shoulder and turns you to him, pulling you to his lap and moving your flimsy gown up from your thighs, brushing along your body as you fight him with the little strength you had left.

"No! I don't want your pity fuck. Go away." He doesn't stop his movements but looks at you with that penetrating gaze and he doesn't see any aversion just anger. Anger he can deal with.

"No." You try again but Boba has you naked and he caresses along your body while trying to make you look at him. When you refuse, he rolls you around to secure you on the bed, face down, completely caged beneath him.

"Leave me alone." You struggle, with no success to get away as he gives your shoulders and back slow kisses. Trying to hit him to get him off of you only gets your hands trapped above your head and more of his weight on you.

"Enough! I don't want to hurt you... I didn't want to hurt you." He says, but you are too out of it to listen properly. All the pain you felt in the last few hours just gives way and you unleash it on him.

"It hurts anyway. Your refusal hurt more than any pain this thing can inflict on me. That's why I never said anything, I knew you wouldn't have me, but I'll take no other so you can go now, you don't have to do this or stay and watch me go." You let it all out and end up crying again. He continues to calm you with his touch while he speaks.

"No, ad'ika. It is done now. You belong to me and I will take care of you, whether you like it or not. We can talk about anything and everything else later but let me help you now." His tone is so gentle, you almost don't recognise his voice, there is a subtle hint of... No, that cannot be...

"You don't mean it." It comes out barely louder than a whisper but he is so close to you he can definitely hear it. Your only answer is a tender kiss to your shoulder before he moves his hand down your front to where you need him the most.

Boba pushes his hips to yours to make you feel his arousal and to shift and put more of his weight on your hips so when he slides through your dripping folds to tease your clit you'd also move into his hand, adding to the pressure on your sensitive nerves.

You aimlessly grab something while arching your back as he starts a slow rhythm to grind on you and at the same time slide up and down between your lower lips to stop at your clit and put pressure on it when his hips push on you too.

"Let go for me." That's all it takes to get you completely relaxed against him and you start to move as much as you can to meet him each time. You come once like this, but it's not nearly enough so you beg him for more and whine loudly when he moves his hand away, only to let out a shriek when he abruptly pushes two thick fingers in you from behind. He sat up and bent your right leg upwards to the side to give him more access. Boba didn't let go of your hips, rocking you up and down, still pushing you down to grind on the bed with each upward movement. His fingers move expertly, opening you up and reaching that spot every time. You scream as you come for the second time.

"That's it mesh'la. Come for me." He helps you along to extend your orgasm as much as possible. When most of the pleasure is gone and you are still in pain, you know this will not be enough.

"More... Boba, more." You are so breathless you can hardly speak, but he gets it. Boba stands to remove his clothes while admiring your naked body. You raise up a little to look back at him from behind your shoulder, running your gaze along all of him while he stands there waiting for your reaction.

You reach out to him with a smile and he hesitantly takes your hand and lays back on you. When you feel him settle you turn your head and ask for a kiss. He bends down, moving his hand under your jaw to keep you in place while he takes that kiss. He is wild and passionate, you follow his lead and turn as much as you can to deepen the kiss. Meanwhile he sneaks his other hand back to your abused pussy and pinches your clit suddenly, making you scream again, this time muffling the sounds with his lips.

He lets you lie down but otherwise doesn't let go. His right arm is trapped under you, between your breasts, holding you chin while he grinds his hard cock between your legs and his left hand draws gentle circles around your bud.

Boba starts to slowly push his length into your tight heat but he is too thick, the stretch is too much. He slides into you balls deep when in a jolt, you arch your back so much it almost bends you in half with your ass curving upwards as well. He grunts and slumps against you, fully trapping you under him and staying still for serval seconds before slowly pulling out just a little to push back in. He builds up a steady rhythm from that slow pace, giving you an other mind-blowing orgasm and only grunting again when he feels you tighten around him but never stopping his movements.

When you start to come down a little he gives you three rapid, hard thrust and with the forth upward motion he sits up and takes you with him. You sit on his lap with your legs spread and bent around his as he still delivers those steady, hard thrusts up into you.

You moan his name like a prayer, that is the only word you can get out besides your begging and when that becomes too much as well you turn his name into a plea, continuing to beg for more, which he gladly gives.

He never let your neck go, possessively holding you to him while he fucks you deeply, still teasing your clit and guiding your hips with his other hand.

Your head rest against his shoulder, you grip his arms to hold on as he takes apart your limp body and makes the pain slowly go away. It's still not enough, though. Something is missing, you need...

"What do you need, my love?" You must have said it out loud but you don't care at all about that as the question gives you the clarity.

"Come inside me,... please,....I need it. Please, Boba?" He growls, completely loosing all rhythm and control. Boba slams into you one last time and you feel his hot cum cool you down completely.

He gently pulls away and lays you down before moving beside you and pulling you to his side.

"What happens now?" You ask as you rest your head against his chest and brush your fingers over his skin absentmindedly.

"Now? We rest, then we move to my quarters to continue. We can take your belongings later." His answer is so casual your tired mind doesn't register it at first, but when it gets there you sit up in a sudden motion that makes you dizzy.

He reaches out to brush your cheek, there is no smile on his face but his eyes are lit up with it as he answers to your silent questions.

"I told you, mesh'la. You are mine now. You wanted me, now you have me, all of me, and I'm not planning on letting you go any time soon, because I want all of you in return."

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #tppkinktober2021 #kinktober #kinktober 2021 #boba x reader #boba x you #boba fett x you #🔥 #⚡ #my stuff #my fics

[bobafetts-princess]

Hello! Congrats on the milestone!!

ヾ( ~▽~)ﾂ ♪💕

May I get an 51 from the prompt list with Boba? 👀

Thank you so much!

Of course!! I struggled with this a little bit, but I’ll tell ya. When I got rolling I got ROLLING! I hope you like it!

Public Kiss with Boba!

Boba x gn!Reader!

Warnings: Possessive Boba. Asshole at the bar doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.

Boba doesn’t do PDA. He’ll let you sit on his lap occasionally, if there’s no business to be conducted, but that’s the extent of it. He doesn’t remove his helmet in the throne room, the risks are too high. He can’t take the chance that someone will seize an opportunity to assassinate him, so it’s few and far between to see him bucket-less in public.

That being said, everyone knows you’re Boba’s. The way he watches you, the way his fingers linger on his blaster if someone gets too close. The way he bites out cruel words for anyone who dares touch what’s his. It’s the way he tilts his head up to you when you’re standing near the throne, jabbering on about Maker-knows-what.

But more so, it’s the way you light up when you see him. The way a brilliant grin breaks out on your face and your eyes seem to take on a glow when you talk to him. It’s the comfort in your body languages when you’re near each other. It’s the way that Boba’s shoulders release tension with every step you take towards him. So, for the most part, everyone knows to avoid you at all costs.

Except for tonight. Boba has some clients in, new trading deals and things along those lines. You weren’t privy to a lot of it, Boba liked to keep work and personal matters separate. You knew that some of his contacts were in town for a while, but that was about it.

You were at the bar, getting a spotchka for Fennec and yourself when a young, good-looking Togruta sidles up next to you.

“I’ve been in this bar all week and I know I’d recognize you if I’d seen you before,” he started and you laughed. His boldness was something to be admired.

“I’ve been hiding,” you tell him, keeping information to a minimum. Being with Boba had taught you several things, the biggest one being ‘don’t give free information’.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he offers and it’s sweet and he’s cute, but Boba’s probably ready to shoot him as it is, so it’s best not to encourage him.

“No thanks, I’ve already paid for mine,” you say, gesturing to the two glasses of blue liquid in front of you. It’s a lie, you don’t pay for shit in this establishment.

“Your comm then? I’m on the planet for a few more days, I’d like to get to know you a little better,” you’re not mad, just a little annoyed that he won’t take the hint as you shake your head no.

“I don’t think my boyfriend would like that,” you say, annoyance bleeding into your tone as you try to turn away but his hand on your wrist stops you.

“He doesn’t have to know, I wo-“

“He already does.” Comes the flat voice from behind you, not hidden by his modulator. You see the rage and fire burning in his eyes as the Togruta falters and sputters an apology. You know he’s pissed if he’s taken off the helmet, or maybe he walked in without it? You don’t know.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fett. I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” but the damage is already done, Boba is livid

“Are you alright, little one?” He asks, tilting your chin up to him as he searches your face for any signs of discomfort. One hand is splayed across your hip, the other cupping your chin and you see the genuine concern there.

“I’m fine, Boba,” you promise and out the corner of your eye you see an older Togruta hustling towards you.

“Boba, Mr. Fett. Please excuse my son, he doesn’t think sometimes,” he starts but Boba silences him with a hand. He crowds you against the bar, your back pressing into the solid durasteel before he captures your lips in his.

It’s possessive, meant to be a show of dominance that prevents anyone else from trying to take what belongs to him. His tongue sweeps into your mouth and a gloved hand wraps around the back of your neck to anchor you to him. He presses into you, taking the glasses from your hands and setting them back on the bar. Your now-free hands curl into his cowl, losing yourself in his kiss.

The entire rest of the throne room disappears as your fingers climb higher to cup Boba’s cheeks and his own fingers tighten around the back of your neck. He tastes like spotchka and he smells like blaster-residue and something warm that’s entirely Boba and you find your legs weakening under the press of his body against yours.

He finishes with a nip to your lower lip, the heat curling in his eyes and the pit of your stomach and he speaks to the Togruta’s without looking.

“If you wish to keep our contracts in place, I suggest you leave tonight.”

The Togruta’s nod fervently, the older dragging his son out the door by his shoulders, reprimanding him along the way. Boba watches them leave, then shoots a look to Fennec before he loops an arm around your waist and steers you towards your shared quarters.

Tags IG? @rebelpitstop @justanotherstarwarswhore @tacticalsparkles @beskarprincessjenny @ahoeformando

(Ya I’m still working on these don’t say shit)

#the siren writes #baroclinicinstability #boba fett x you #boba fett smut #the book of boba fett #boba fett fucks #boba fett fanfic #boba fett fic #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x reader #k’s 700 follower celebration