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saradika · 1 year

Text

— maybe I just wanna be yours

boba fett x f!eader

Rated E - 1.8k

Tags: fluff and smut, feelings, flirting, dirty talk, spitting, rough PiV, unprotected sex, comeplay, emotional hurt/comfort, references to chronic pain & age, nightmares

Summary - Spending 4 different kinds of evenings in the company of one Boba Fett.

A/N: after I wrote an Obi-Wan fic last year to celebrate May the 4th, @wingofshadow had very kindly asked if I’d consider writing more! So a bit late - but was feeling really inspired to write one for Boba this year 💕

You lost all sense of time hours ago. Swaying with the smooth, low notes of the band in the corner - wrapped up in the buzz of conversation, the dimmed and flickering lights.

Chin propped up on a palm, eyelashes lowered as you watch. Something easy to do from where you lean against the bartop, trading the stool for a chance to stretch your legs.

Making an idle pass around the room, though your gaze always returns to the middle.

To him.

The easy way he lounges against the stone. A thick arm draped across the curving back, the glint of a golden light above reflecting against the dark shadow of his visor.

It still thrills you.

The feeling in your chest that you wish you had a name for - swooping low, like the music. Rising and swelling until it feels like it's about to burst.

But feelings are dangerous, in a place like this.

With a man like Boba Fett.

Your eyes find him again, unable to help seeking him out.

This time, his helmet tilts in your direction. You can feel a heat rising up your neck, to your cheeks, thinking about him thinking about you.

Joining him, on that throne.

He's confessed he has. When lips loosen late at night. That moment with he's buried in you and the filth pours, desperate for release.

There's a fraction of a second as he holds your gaze. A little tip of his helmet, towards a corner of the room you know well.

A secret message, just for you.

Only for you.

It has you rising - weaving carefully through the crowd. Watching how he moves towards you at the same time - how he's given a large berth. Respect following each heavy footstep, as he is brought your way.

A gloved hand catches your elbow, steering you down a narrow hallway. Out of sight from prying eyes - the hiss as the helmet is removed, tucked easily under an arm.

You move ahead of him, turning in time to just catch the slow drag of his eyes. Not looking away when caught, but smiling instead. The smallest curve of pretty lips, a crinkling of dark eyes.

His voice, as low and smooth as the jazz notes that follow you in.

"There's something I have to look into tonight."

You know better than to ask now. If it's important - he'll fill you in later.

Instead, your head cocks, appreciating that he's telling you. Your own smile lightning up your face, reaching out to touch his forearm.

"Will you come find me, when you're done?"

The look darkens, like there's nothing he'd like more than to do that now. Stepping into your space, a curled fingers tipping up your chin.

Your eyes flutter shut as your lips part, waiting.

The words breathed out, as his own mouth hovers. A teasing promise for later, knowing that the anticipation will only build in his absence.

“Always."

ii.

The groan you make sounds broken, as it’s forced from your lungs. Your breathing short and sharp with the way he has your thighs pushed back towards your shoulders, each harsh thrust sending sparks skittering down your spine.

Fueled by the way his thumb presses circles into spit-slick skin - teasing right against the spot that has you clenching down hard around him.

You can still picture the way he leaned over you. Soaked from his mouth, from the release he had coaxed from you once already - but that didn’t stop the saliva from pooling on his tongue.

Parting his lips to let it drip onto your cunt, before he was pulling back - hands catching on the juncture of your knees.

Opening you up for him.

Putting you on display, thighs spread wide so he could watch the way his cock slid through the mess. The tip catching on where he fucked you open with his fingers, but you had still gasped when he had worked his way inside.

Filling you in a way that only he can.

His fingers tighten their grip against your thigh. Eyes bright as he watches - taking in how you’re splayed out beneath him, your fingers twisted in the sheets.

Words spilling freely - pent up from the days you’ve been apart.

“Woke up so fucking hard, thinking about you.”

His lips part with a groan, your hips bucking into his touch.

“Was gonna take care of it. But I didn’t want to waste a drop, spilling myself outside of your cunt.”

Teeth grit, a rough noise in his chest when you sigh out his name. That feeling rising again - getting ready to crash over you. Pull you under, muting everything but him and that sweet spot where you’re connected.

“Is that where you want it, princess?”

Your nod feels like it takes ages, mind already hazy and swimming. Tongue swiping over your lips as you try to find the words to answer.

He’s impatient. Pressing, wanting to hear the words himself, “Tell me.”

“Yes,” You manage, “Gods, I want you to come in me.”

A flash of a grin, where he leans over you. Broad chest and the curve of a stomach - forcing himself deeper, until it feels like he’s in your throat.

“That’s my girl.” Boba coos, “Gonna make you come again. Make you clench around my cock while you’re stuffed full of my cum.”

He can feel the way you tighten at his words. The panting of your breath, so close to what you need.

The little warble of his name is enough to tip him over.

“Fuck.” He growls, hips slamming against yours. Eyes dark and fixed on yours, as the thrust goes sloppy - pressing deep, sheathing himself one last time.

“Fuck-”

Fingers still pressing, still pressing - as he gives you what you want.

He always does.

iii.

There's the mechanical whir as you enter the bedroom. It tells a story, even before you can see the heavy lines in his face and brow - allowing the small dressing droids to remove the painted-gold knee armor.

A strung-tight look to his shoulders, a weariness layering underneath the irritation. You hover - waiting as the nimble fingers take him apart, storing each piece carefully. Until they leave him, before you cross the room.

The way your hands move is familiar, as you lower yourself in front of him. On another night perhaps his thighs would spread, a canting of his hips into your waiting, eager mouth.

But tonight, your thumbs dig into sore flesh. A groan as you press into the muscles near his knee, fingers curving to the soft spot behind the joint.

You know the pain comes. Scars and aches from before, things that still linger from that unspoken time in the pits. Always hiding it so well, the helmet masking each and every expression. The armor covering the movements that come slowly at times.

Never using the droids unless he needs to. Too proud, insisting on strapping the pieces on himself.

He lets out a sigh. Long-held, some of the tension going out with it. You can't do much to help but you can do this - a listening ear as you work through some of the knots.

"Time has worn away at me, cyare.”

His tone is self-deprecating, eyes not meeting yours as they lift. As your fingers stop, coming to rest against his thigh. Fingers lacing together as your chin rests on top, fixing him with your own long look.

When they eventually drift back your way, your smile is small. A kiss pressed to the inside of his knee, over the dark jumpsuit.

"It wears away at all of us." You tell him, gentle and coaxing, “But from where I sit, I see plenty that remains.”

There’s a twitch of his jaw at that, the silence lingering. The ache reminds him of the time that has passed. Throwing him into past regrets.

Unable to help wondering what will remain, as more time passes. Forgetting that he's survived and endured - something that was very much worth acknowledging.

Your voice softens, a small frown forming, “Is it really such a bad thing, to grow old?”

Something lingers in his eyes then, as he takes you in.

"No." He concedes, "I suppose it isn’t."

A small smile, as you push yourself to move behind him. Hand running over broad shoulders - still strong,“I can’t turn back time, but I can try to help with the rest.”

Your own small sigh comes then, with your quiet admission, “I wish there was more I could do more for you.”

His head hangs between those shoulders as your fingers press into his neck. As he tells you, his voice low but sure.

“You do more than enough already.”

iv.

The ground seems to crumble with each of your steps. Blurry figures flashing by as you race forward, fingers outstretched.

Everything just out of reach.

A voice that yells, but the sound is broken - whisked away as soon as it leaves your lips.

Dread rising, rising, rising-

You wake with a gasp, eyes flying open. Chest heaving like you'd been yanked underwater, something rousing you from your nightmare.

A warm hand cups your shoulder. Squeezing, before brushing down your arm, smoothing over your skin. Pulling you out, when he woke - hearing the sleepy sounds of your whimper.

"-just a dream, cyare. Nothing more." He soothes, voice rough with sleep.

Slowly, your hearing returns over the racing thud of your heart. As your head relaxes back onto the pillow, when you feel him press against you, a strong arm curling around.

He runs too hot sometimes, in the heat of the desert. But right now, with the cold flush of fear, it's welcome. Warming you, like the sun.

Here, you lean into that warmth. Wiggling until you can flip around. Half-lidded, sleepy eyes look back, as you're pulled closer.

You're safe here.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He rasps, as your head shakes.

"No." Your voice is small, "It was just - I don't even know."

Silence stretches, his finger tips tracing patterns over bare skin. The man who’s experienced unthinkable horrors waiting for you to continue, if you wanted to.

It feels silly now.

Just a dream.

Nothing to be scared of.

"I think I was reaching for you. But I couldn't make it. I tried to call out, but I couldn't make any noise."

The fear from the dream is tempered, already starting to fade at the edges. He makes a low sound at your words, a humming rumble in his throat.

"I know you were dreaming," His hand rises to cup your jaw, a thumb smoothing acroess your cheek, "Because that's not going to happen."

He won't let that happen.

You read into his words, spoken so late at night. When he's half-awake and stripped clean of his armor - when those walls come down.

All you can do is nod, that feeling coming back. Starting in your stomach and swelling to your chest, stealing your words in a different way now.

"Now, go back to sleep." He coaxes, as your head presses into his shoulder, "You don't have to worry."

And you believe him. Safe and warm within his arms - breathing him in as the his words wash over you, sleep already tugging at your limbs.

"I'm right here."

cyare/cyar’ika - sweetheart/beloved

#happy star wars day #💖💖#boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x female reader

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