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daimyosprincess · 3 months

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AN HONEST DAY'S WORK

—PAIRING: Contractor!Boba Fett x F!Reader

—SUMMARY: You have a very special project you want your parents’ contractor, Boba Fett, to work on.

—WORD COUNT: 9k

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

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, alternate universe, contractor!Boba, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is an adult), reader described as having hair, Boba is a dirty old man and doesn’t mind saying so 😈, likely an excessive use of pet names by yours truly, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl), squirting, cum eating, soft Boba 🥹, mentions of a shitty ex

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you @baufraus for slapping a tool belt on that old man, you’re doing the lord’s work 😌 Enjoy besties 💖

Divider by the @saradika

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

What a pleasant thing to be woken up by your alarm, you think, stretching out in a luxurious full body stretch under your flowery covers. After a month and a half of what felt like constant construction right outside your window, waking to your buzzing alarm was a welcome relief from the jagged sounds of powertools and hard machinery.

While you love your parents dearly, their desire to turn the backyard of your childhood home into a suburban oasis has been a less than pleasant experience for you. They certainly deserved to enjoy their retirement after putting you and your siblings through school, but the necessity of such renovations during your last year of your masters was dubious to you at best.

All in all though, you can’t complain. You live in their spacious, boomer-bought house rent-free and enjoy a home-cooked meal every night; you have your mom to dote on you when you get sick and your dad to defrost your car in the cold winter mornings. Even with the long hours of inescapable noise and constant stream of people in and around the house, you’re grateful to be there. And, if you’re completely honest, you’re also extremely grateful for the unexpected front row seat to watch the handsome contractor heading the whole operation.

Boba Fett hasn’t left your thoughts since the day he arrived at your front door dressed in khaki cargo pants, a form fitting t-shirt, and a tool belt slung low across his hips. His perfect white smile and smoldering dark eyes left you speechless then and have continued to bedevil you ever since, winding your insides (and panties) into knots. The fact that he’s somehow a perfect gentleman to you while simultaneously being the most incorrigible flirt that ever lived hasn’t helped in the least. Between his sparkling winks, dazzling smile, and delicious voice calling you “princess” and “sweetheart,” you haven’t known a moment’s peace—even when the crew finally went home in the evenings.

It’s all enough to drive you totally insane.

Lucky for him, however, it hasn’t. Staring up at the familiar ceiling above you, you smile: today is the day you will finally have your revenge. The contractor had teased and poked at you for weeks and you’d been powerless to do anything more than glower and huff at him due to the constant company of your parents and his crew. But now you have him all to yourself for an entire day with the house to yourself and his workers off—and you have no intention of showing him any mercy.

It’s been nearly two years since you’ve had anything close to what one could consider “action.” Between school and your research fellowship, you haven’t had any time to go to parties or bars or wherever adults are supposed to meet people to do it with. No, for two long years, it has been you and your vibrator against the world.

Boba Fett is going to fix that.

After a quick shower and a punched-up version of your morning routine, you’re almost ready to set your plan into motion. Flicking through your closet, you decide on your favorite floral sundress with a pair of cute sandals. Now dressed, you smooth your hands down the light fabric, smiling at your reflection in the mirror; you look sweet enough to eat. And lick. And suck. And-

Heat flares in your belly at the thought of Boba’s large, work-rough hands pulling up the hem of your dress to kiss up your soft thighs, his tongue spelling out all the dirty, awful things he wants to do to you in your parents’ own home… his lips wrapping around that desperate, aching spot between your legs and making that burning need finally go away in an explosion of pent-up pleasure.

Fuck. You bite down hard on your lip to stop from hopping back beneath your covers and touching yourself to the rest of that particular fantasy. The only thing that keeps you from sneaking in a quickie with your hand clamped over your mouth so his name doesn’t spill out is the chance to have him do all those things to you for real.

Taking a deep breath, you push away your lewd imaginings and check your phone. You have just enough time to grab your books and position yourself on the deck before Boba arrives to finish whatever project your parents told you about. Railings? Pool pump? Painting? Doesn’t matter.

With one last check in the mirror, you hurry towards your bedroom door only to stop short a second later. Before you can think better of it, you snatch down your panties and toss them over your shoulder with a grin.

Chancing a glance over the top of your unread book, you spy Boba leaning across a board and marking it with a flat drafting pencil. The suggestive slant of his hips and the sheen of perspiration on his brow made a slew of very suggestive images flood your brain. Was it possible to be attracted to the way someone clenches their jaw?

Boba had to be showing off. There’s simply no explanation for why he needed to carry that much lumber on his shoulder or measure that many things high enough for his gray t-shirt to ride up and reveal a tempting peek at the dark trail of hair leading into his jeans. And since when did there need to be so much drilling? He is sorely beating you at your own game, and that simply would not do—not when you need him so bad you’re scheming and panty-less in your parents’ backyard.

“See something you like, princess?”

Kark. Shaking your head, you blink your eyes like you’ve been caught deep into your reading. “Oh, sorry, did you say something?”

He straightens, arching a brow as he dusts himself off. As you follow his hands across his strong torso and thighs you realize too late that your eyes have wandered to his crotch. Smirking, Boba runs a palm over his face to wipe away the sweat there. “Never mind that,” he chuckles, “Could I interrupt your ‘study session’ for something to drink?”

The audacity of this man! Scoffing at your (admittedly weak) attempt at school work like he hasn’t been putting on a show himself for the past hour and a half.

You’re not going to let yourself be beat at your own game. Plastering on a big smile, you answer in a honey-sweet voice. “Actually, my mom made some sandwiches and lemonade since you had to come by on your day off. Why don’t you freshen up and take a seat over here,” you motion to the couch across from you, “and I’ll be out with lunch in a couple minutes.”

Boba watches with an amused smile as you trot past him into the cool of the house, taking your unspoken invitation to stare at your ass as you do so. When you re-emerge a few minutes later with the promised food and drink, he’s spread out over the couch with a fresh shirt on and looking every bit as regal as a king on a throne. You suppose it’s only fitting that he calls you his princess when he thanks you for bringing out the meal.

Picking up a sandwich, Boba nods to your stack of readings on the side table. “Lot of books you got there, princess. What are you in school for?”

You’re ready to give him some giggly, flippant reply but the genuine look of interest on his face stops you. For a stricken second you’re tongue tied by the thought of your parents’ hot contractor being genuinely interested in you as a person. Shimmering, unbidden fantasies float through your mind of Boba pulling out your chair for you on a date, the two of you sitting around a bonfire with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, him kissing the top of your head as he leaves for work in the morning. The images curl through the heat of your desire for him, mixing with the safe warmth and happiness he brings you.

Maybe…

You quickly scramble to answer before your imagination can run rampant and put dangerous thoughts of something more with him into your head.

“Speech-language pathology and therapy. Originally I was doing special education but then I really enjoyed my communicative disorders class, so my professor helped me apply to an internship program that convinced me to change my concentration. I even got into the fellowship program in the speech lab at St. Mary’s this semester and-”

You look up to see Boba staring at you so fondly that it makes your chest ache and your words evaporate into flushed smoke. “Oh, u-um, sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear all that… basically, I’m studying ways to help people speak easier.” You take a long sip of lemonade to avoid saying anything else, mentally kicking yourself to get it together. You have a plan and you need to stick to it, no matter how tingly and fuzzy he makes your heart feel.

The couch creaks as Boba shifts forward to rest his forearms on his knees so he can meet your downcast eyes. “Hey… never apologize for your passion. Not many people have what you have, or the drive to go after it. That’s something to be proud of, sweetheart.”

That same warm, shimmery feeling from before returns and you smile at him. “Thanks,” you murmur, wondering if it’s normal for his tenderness to make you want to get in his pants even more. You don’t care either way. Clearing your throat, you roll back your shoulders and lean back against the plump cushions. “Well I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got any more, uh, “measuring” to do.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he winks.

“Right.” He nods to his cleared plate. “Thanks for lunch.”

“Of course,” you assure him, “gotta make sure you keep your strength up for any… activities you might get up to.”

Boba laughs rich and deep as he pushes up from the couch. “You really are too good to me, princess.”

If only he knew just how good I can be.

The following hour passes in pleasant, if sexually charged, silence as both of you vie to make the other crack first. When he lifts the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his face, revealing the thick wall of muscle and softer belly underneath, you finally decide enough is enough. If he’s playing dirty, you will too.

Reaching your arms above your head, you stretch and let out a suggestive groan that has Boba’s head snapping towards you. Of course, you pretend you don’t notice and continue your stretch, leisurely easing out your legs to their full length. With his eyes boring into you, you purposefully slide your knees up the couch cushions so the hem of your flowy dress rides dangerously high up your thighs. You can physically feel the tables turning in your favor, upper hand slipping from him to you in this one powerful, heady moment.

Tilting your head back to meet his burning gaze, you savor the feeling, watching through your lashes as his breath stutters in his chest. Then, taking your lip between your teeth, you slowly open your thighs, one, then the other, to reveal the glistening folds hidden between them.

For a brief second, it seems like he’s going to snap the board in his hands with the way his muscles strain against his shirt. When you moan a quiet little sound as you stretch again, he slams the wood down and stalks over you with his fists clenching.

Blinking up at him with siren eyes, you give him a sultry smile. “See something you like, handsome?” you mimic, reaching out to drag your fingers down his arm.

He snatches up your hand in a tight grip. “Careful, princess,” Boba warns in a low, scraped voice. “Think very carefully about-”

Before you can chicken out, you flip the front of your dress above your waist with your free hand. “About this?”

Boba sucks in a sharp breath and stares for a long second, the muscles in his jaw working in tight feathers before he yanks your dress back down over your legs. “Sweetheart, I’m serious,” he shuts his eyes and exhales heavily. “Think about what you’re offering.”

As if you haven’t thought about this very thing for weeks on end, writhing and panting to the thought of Boba Fett doing every dirty thing to you that you could come up with. No, if anything, you need to stop thinking and start feeling everything your wicked thoughts had conjured up about this man.

“Boba, please,” you whine, the feel of his hand on your skin making your voice desperate, “I’m sure, I’m so, so sure I swear.” His grip tightens and you can sense he’s waiting to hear for something more concrete. “I’ve thought about you every day, every night… I want you, Boba. Please.”

“Fuck, sweetheart…” His skin burns against yours and he curses again, dropping your wrist and coming to his knees in front of you. “Tell me then,” he grunts, bracing himself between your thighs, “tell me exactly what you want me to do to you.”

Pure, molten want burns in his eyes, igniting the desperate tinder of your desire. What didn’t you want him to do? You’ve dreamed about him taking you every possible way in every possible place, groaning your name and screwing you senseless. What could you say when you want everything he’ll give you?

Luckily, your tongue has the answer your brain does not. “Kiss me,” you gasp, “Please kriffing kiss me.”

And like he’d been waiting his entire life to hear you say those very words, he’s on you, pushing you back against the pillows and crashing his perfect lips against yours in a scorching fury. Your body welcomes his intensity, instinctually shaping itself around his strong hips and wide shoulders as you claw at him to get closer. Fuck, you’re already greedy for him, your skin thirsting for his and your pussy soaking your dress beneath it.

“W-wait,” you gasp, hating the way he immediately recoils even as you appreciate his caution. You don’t want to give Boba any reason to stop but you don’t want to embarrass yourself in the heat of things either. “I’ve never, um, well… I’ve never had… never with someone else.” You wince; your words sound even worse than they did tripping through your head. Anxiety pricks your heated skin—you want to bury yourself into his shirt and hide there forever.

Why did you bring this up? You should’ve just gone with it like before.

When he speaks, Boba’s voice is the softest it’s ever been. “Princess, baby, look at me.” He rolls the both of you up to a sitting position, giving you just enough space to pull away if you needed to while still being close. Gently taking one of your clenched fists into his large hand, he smooths your fingers out, rubbing soothing circles into your palm with his thumb.

You sneak a peek at him. Gone is the hot fervor of passion that previously colored his features; now he’s a softer shade that beckons you into his comfort.

“There she is,” he smiles, rewarding you with his own when you force your face up to his. The urgent tear of worry in your chest eases and you melt into his side. “Now, how about you tell me what’s bothering you, hmm?”

“Really, it’s nothing,” you try, knowing it won’t work as soon as you say it. All you want to do is go back to him kissing the air out of your lungs and to have his fingers brushing over your soaked slit, but Boba isn’t going to let you off the hook.

Damn him and his honorable ways.

Boba sighs and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Nice try, sweetheart.” He lays his cheek on top of your head and wraps an arm around your shoulders, giving you a comforting squeeze. “Listen, if all this is happening too fast, if you want to stop here, we can. I won’t be mad, baby. Your first time should be with someone special, and if that’s not me then that’s alright.”

First time? Realization dawns on you a second later and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from your belly. Giggling, you arch up and give the confused man next to you a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you, Boba, really. But that’s not what I meant.” A new kind of nervousness pools in your gut now, one that swirls with hot anticipation rather than cold dread.

Grabbing his free hand for support, you look into the warm depth of his eyes as his fingers curl around yours. “What I was trying to say was that… well, that no one else has ever made me come before. I’ve made myself come plenty of times but,” yikes, did you have to say that?, “I’ve only been with one other guy and he never made me… I mean, I got close one time but he never actually made me finish.”

The concerned look on Boba’s face melts into a glorious laugh that rumbles your chest. Before you know it, you’re both laughing and kissing in between delighted gasps for air. A bright sense of joy permeates every cell in your body and you tuck it safely inside your heart. If this was your first time, you know that you’d want it to be with him. Maybe you’ll pretend this is your first time.

“Oh, sweetheart, is that what you’re worried about?” he finally sighs, his warm breath tickling your neck. You nod against him.

In one quick motion, Boba scoops you up into his lap, wrapping his arms around you to grab your ass through your dress. “Are you worried that I won’t be able to make you scream and shake when I lick and stroke your perfect little pussy? Hmm?” He groans into your ear when you shiver against him. “Babygirl, don’t you worry one bit. I’m gonna take care of you, I’m gonna make you feel so amazing you’re not going to be able to sit out here ever again without remembering how I made you cry with how good it feels.”

This time, you’re the one who slams your lips against his, stealing whatever dark, sweet words he had left from his tongue. You mewl into his open mouth as he rocks your bare core over the thick denim straining over his erection. The seam of his jeans catches your clit perfectly and you would have cried out loud enough for the neighbors three houses down to hear if Boba hadn’t held your face against his.

“Easy there, beautiful,” Boba chuckles, “we don’t need everyone knowing what we’re up to, not till we’re done anyways, yeah?” You hum in agreement and bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling his clean smell and the surprisingly attractive scent of a day’s work clinging to his skin. “Now, tell me about this boy before, did he make you feel good? Make you want to flash your bare cunt to him and beg him to take you where anyone could walk around and see?”

Your crappy college boyfriend never made you want anything remotely like what Boba’s saying. The only thing he ever made you want was for him to hurry up so you could go in the bathroom and finish yourself off. He had been nice enough, but, nice enough didn’t make your eyes cross and pussy wet. “He never, shit, he never…” you gasp as Boba grinds you harder against himself, “I had to beg him to eat me out and even then he complained about it every time.”

“Complained? Kark, princess, tasting you is all I’ve been able to think about for a month. In fact,” Boba grins wickedly, “I’d like to solve that problem right now, with your permission, of course.” His tongue flicks out to wet his lips like he’s preparing to enjoy the best meal of his life.

You can’t give him your permission fast enough.

Reaching behind his back, Boba tosses one of the decorative pillows from the couch onto the deck and slides down to kneel on it in front of you. “Why don’t you hand me another one of those,” he flashes you a smile and a wink, “My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

“They didn’t seem to be a problem when you were putting on a show for me earlier,” you snark back, rolling your eyes for extra effect. “I hardly got any reading done with your whole construction worker performance going on.”

Boba tosses his head back and laughs a deep belly laugh that makes you glow for being its source. Grabbing your hips, he yanks you to the edge of the couch, making you squeal. “Now I think we both know you never had any intention of studying when you planted your cute little ass on this couch.” He leans in, inching your dress up so he can brush his lips over the ticklish skin just above your knees.

“Wh-What are you talking about?” Your lashes flutter shut and you dig your nails into the cushions to keep your composure as Boba begins to pepper kisses up your thighs while his hands massaged what his mouth wasn’t on. “I h-have all my stuff out here, see?”

Of course, your handsome contractor is exactly right but you’re not going to admit that.

Licking a stripe mere centimeters from where you want him most, Boba huffs a laugh into your damp skin. “All props, sweetheart. Your dress and flirty little smile gave it all away.” His hands travel to the back of your hips where he spreads them wide so you arch against him, bringing the top of your pelvic bone right to his mouth. “Though really, the fact you didn’t turn a single page the entire time you were out here would have clued me in regardless.”

Boba’s words feel like they’re coming through a wall of thick molasses, heavy and sweet as they are to your ears. All you can focus on is the heat of his breath whispering across the wetness he caused and how his lips feel ghosting against your soft flesh as he speaks. Kark, how are you supposed to think with him like this, kneeling for the very opportunity to put his mouth where you’ve dreamed it would be so many times? All that time trembling, aching, yearning for him and he was finally yours—at least for now—and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.

You bunch up the material of your dress in a fist and force your hazy eyes to focus on him. “Either way, it got me what I truly wanted,” you smile affectionately, “You.”

An emotion flashes across Boba’s sun-bronzed face so quickly it feels like a secret to have seen it, something deep and tender, petal-soft and just as vulnerable. Something words couldn’t quite express and certainly not something he wanted to be seen. It made him feel so frighteningly human that you want to bury him in your chest and murmur all lovely things he makes you feel until he feels safe enough to let that emotion out of its closely guarded cage.

A second later, however, his usual cocksure expression is back in place. “Aw, you’re sweet to flatter an old man. Now how about you sit up on those knees so I can taste every inch of your pretty pussy?”

You couldn’t have refused his request even if it wasn’t the hottest thing you ever heard, not with the way you’re so agonizingly ready that you’re literally dripping with arousal. “Boba, please. Need your-ooohh!” A searing shock of pleasure ricochets up your spine as his tongue swipes through the web of slick pooled in your slit.

Your intense reaction spurs Boba on and he immediately dives into your core, jamming his face between your legs and groaning loudly as he inhales your scent. “Sweet as fucking cherry pie, baby. Shit, come here,” he growls, yanking you down so nearly your full weight is on his face. “I want you down my damn throat, you’re so delicious. Better than anything I’ve ever had.”

You wish you could open your scrunched eyes to see the expression that matches his blissed out tone, but it’s impossible with the way his tongue is flicking through folds as he sucks up every drop of your slick like he needs it to live. Heat pumps through your veins, lighting you up until you’re sure you could replace the sun. In less than thirty seconds, Boba has made you feel more beautiful, more cherished than you ever felt in your entire life.

As your knees begin to buckle from the luscious intensity of his mouth, Boba tosses your right leg over his shoulder, balancing you across his face and giving him the perfect opportunity to flatten his tongue against your clit. You have to slap a hand across your mouth to keep from screaming when he starts a pace that has you riding his face with fervent abandon, your hand dropping your dress to clutch at the back of his skull for more pressure.

Boba moans and scrapes his teeth over your clit, making you squeal and jolt at the sharp sensation. “Fucking hell, girl, you really are dirty, aren’t you? I never should have waited to get my mouth on you. Lay down for me, I wanna feel that tight cunt squeezing my fingers while you make a mess on my face.”

As much as you don’t want to part with his mouth, the temptation to feel him stretching you out on his thick fingers, stroking all the places your own can’t reach, is too great to resist. Scrambling back onto the couch, you tuck yourself into the corner to give him the maximum amount of access to your trembling body.

Boba grins up at you, his face up to his eyes shiny with your slick. “Howya feeling, sweetheart? Ready for me to make you see stars?”

In response, you just toss the fabric of your dress over your shoulder and roll your hips forward.

Boba was a man of his word, bringing you to the edge of orgasm once with mouth and hands then once more with his cock as took you from behind—you’re in actual tears with how good every single one of his movements feel. Every drag of his cock is pure pleasure, every touch of his hands delicious delight, and every kiss is incandescent bliss. You’re never going to be the same again.

“Oh, my filthy little girl,” he taunts, grabbing a handful of your tits as he watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, “what would your parents think, hmm? What would they do if they knew you let an old man bend you over the table they’ll eat off of? That you’re bouncing on his dick and begging him for more on their couch?”

“Oh, fuck! Boba!” A wave of liquid arousal floods your core, make the sound of him fucking into you even wetter.

“Yeah? You like it when I talk like that, sweetheart? You like knowing that I’m going to own every part of you then send you back to them with a smile on my face and your cum leaking down my cock?”

Every single one of his sex-stained words sear into your skin, going straight to your throbbing clit. Every beat of your pounding heart brings you closer and closer to the bright brink of orgasm, every roll of his hips thrusting his length into that perfect spot inside you. Fuck he’s going to make me come if he keeps… fuck!

“Kark, baby, I can feel you squeezing me with that perfect tight cunt. Shit, you’re so-”

You can’t take it anymore. Falling forward onto his heaving chest, you dig your nails into the thick muscle there and start grinding your aching clit against him like some feral animal chasing their heat.

Faster, harder, faster, fuck! Just like that, juuuust like that and you’ll feel that perfect fucking release, just a little more and…

Boba stills his bucking hips and halts your rocking.

You howl, clawing at his unmoving body. “No, please!” you sob, “I’m so close, please don’t stop now!”

Boba shushes you with the press of his mouth. “Shh, you’ll get what you want, baby, I promise you. But if I'm gonna be the first man to make you come, I’m gonna make it much more memorable than that was going to be.”

The thought of anything more than the building pleasure thrashing in core was unimaginable. How on earth could it be better than him balls deep inside you hitting your g-spot like it’s what he was made for? Never in your wildest dreams had you felt this good, even when you had hours alone to tease yourself before riding out the wave of your orgasm. If there was anything greater than this pleasure you’re not sure you would survive it—not with your mind intact, anyways.

Sliding his hands under your slicked thighs, Boba swings his legs off the couch and stands with a huff, keeping himself sheathed inside you. You grind into the fabric of his shirt until gives your ass a firm swat and you a stern warning to behave, which you’re too desperate to test. He walks the pair of you over to the large, oak table and plops you on top of it. The rich grain is supple and smooth on your bare skin, and Boba eases your back flat against it as he kisses and gropes across your body.

“Alright, princess,” he pulls away slightly to rest his damp forehead on yours, “I need you to do something for me, okay?”

Brushing your hands down his neck and shoulders, you’d promise him anything he asked. “O-okay, Boba.”

He peppers a few kisses on your tear-stained cheeks before continuing, letting his hips rut into you at an agonizingly slow pace. “When I tell you to, I want you to release all your muscles and completely let go. Don’t hold anything in, alright, babygirl?”

You’re not sure where he’s leading you but you have complete faith in the fact that it’s going to be mind blowing. You give him your affirmation and he presses a small kiss on your lips.

“Good. Now start playing with those perfect fucking tits, give me a good show.”

You’re in such a hurry to comply that you get frustrated by the straps of your dress and bra, to which Boba chuckles and makes quick work of them, dragging the material down until your chest was bared for his mouth to claim. He curses when you press the soft flesh of your breasts together, moaning when your fingers brush over your pert nipples. For a minute he just watches you revel in the pleasure of your own hands, fucking yourself shallowly on him as you pluck and caress the sensitive skin beneath your fingers.

Boba is a man entranced, his dark eyes glassy with want. Under his reverential gaze, you feel so desired, so utterly divine, like you’re his own personal goddess—he stares down at you as your most pious devotee who longs for nothing more than to feel the blessing of your body and the joy of your bliss.

“Boba…” you whisper duskily. He leans into your outstretched hand and you pull him into your arms with a crushing kiss.

As if he can read exactly what you need, he hikes your leg over his hip and begins a pace of snapping thrusts that has your entire body bouncing with their bruising force. “Pretty baby, precious girl, I’m going to make you feel so fucking good,” he pants into your neck, pressing his lips there to taste the salt of your skin, “Been dying to take care of you like this, sweetheart. Watching you work so hard, leaving early and coming back late… you’re such a good little girl, aren’t you?”

With the way he’s hitting every single sweet spot that makes you feel like a woman, all you can manage is a breathy affirmative and a few warbling words. “Y-yes, Boba, w-wanted you s-so bad. Thought-thought about you every n-night. Ohhhh fuck!”

Boba lifts your hips and guides your legs to lock around him, giving him a mind-shattering angle as he drives into your wet heat. After swallowing down your cries of pleasure with a searing kiss, he wraps his large hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he continues.

“So loud, aren’t you, princess? No, I like that, I like hearing how good I make you feel, like knowing I’m the only one who has you making these sweet fucking sounds.” Leaning back, he trails his free hand up your calf, letting it follow the curve of your thigh and giving your ass a smack that makes your eyes roll back. “Because I’m the only one who makes you feel like this, the only one who can make this perfect pussy soak and come. You just needed a real man to give you what you needed, huh, sweetheart? Come on, answer me and I’ll make you scream.”

Every nerve in your body is lighting up, every neuron in your brain firing with blinding pleasure. The voice that claws its way from your throat is wrecked and ragged, gasping and begging for more, more, more. The heat and pressure building in your core is volcanic, and you absolutely need it to burn you alive. Only then could you shed the weight of everything that came before and become the beautiful thing Boba is crafting with every sinful word and scalding caress.

“That’s it, just like that, pretty baby,” Boba grunts in praise when you start chasing his thrusts with your own. “Take what you need, what you deserve. Use my cock… I’m all yours, all fucking yours, princess.”

You can’t see him behind your scrunched eyelids, but you can hear the sincerity laced through his words like a shining vein of shimmering gold. The images of him wrapping his arm around you at campfire, settling you into your chair on a date come flashing back, play across your mind with such visceral clarity you could almost reach out and touch them. There was so much warmth to this man, so much untapped softness and care underneath his rough-hewn exterior that you want so karking bad you can taste it hot on your tongue. You want him loving you, fucking you, caring for you every single day from now until forever. Most urgently, however, you want him to mark your very soul with his in an orgasm so intense you leave your body.

“B-boba, Boba, please! I’m so close, I-I want you so bad! Please!” you beg between his fingers over your mouth as your hands paw at his sweat-slicked skin.

“I got you, babygirl, I got you. Come here.” Boba crushes his mouth against yours, licking your taste onto his tongue with a moan. When he finally breaks your kiss, his cheeks are flushed with carnal color and his eyes are glazed with devoted fervor. “Remember what I said before, sweetheart? About letting go, releasing all your muscles?”

You bob your head, biting into your lip to keep your focus on his face.

“Good. I’m going to count down from ten then I want you to do just that, okay? Can you do that for me? Let me hear you say you understand.”

As if you wouldn’t kiss the very ground he walks on with how good he’s making you feel. “I-I understand.”

He beams at you, a diamond drop of sweat rolling down his brow. “That’s my good girl. Now stuff your dress in your mouth because I’m going to make you scream loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.”

Burning ecstasy explodes inside you, snapping your muscles taunt and clamping down on the thick length rocking into you. How can you possibly feel this good, this fucking amazing and you’re not even coming yet? You don’t even remember where you are at this point, only that Boba’s on top of you and his dick’s inside you.

Gagged and bleary-eyed with tears, you arch into his touch when his calloused fingertips find your pulsing clit.

“Ten. Nine. Eight.” Boba’s fingers slide back and forth across your sopping folds with delicious speed, the pressure of his hand singing the glorious feeling into your bones.

“Seven. Six. Five.” His angle changes just slightly so his thrusts aim up towards your belly. Tears run down your temples into your hair and you know you have to be screaming around your spit-soaked dress.

“Four… three…”

Stars begin to explode in cataclysmic bursts of light as everything in your body tightens into a ball of pure energy. If you could think beyond the primal sensation you would worry that you might literally die with how hard your heart is thundering in your chest.

Boba presses a hand on your lower tummy and everything snaps into stark relief: you can feel every cell in your body, every atom of being as all the light inside you floods to core.

“Two…” His voice is sabled sin, luscious smoke dripping onto your burning skin in hot, fat drops. “One. Let go, baby, let go of everything.”

His thrusts, his fingers, his hand pressing into you, everything melts into one caldecent elixir that pours directly into your deepest parts and washes you down to your most tender parts. Then, just when you thought you couldn’t feel anything more, the final dam inside you breaks. Liquid heat washes through you, roaring through your body with all the force of every desire you’ve ever had being met in one singular, perfect moment.

The waves crashing into you feel so real that it feels like you're soaking through your skin into a puddle of your own arousal.

“Oh, fuuuuck, princess, that’s it…” Boba’s voice strains through clenched teeth and torrid control, the last shreds clinging just barely to his skin. “Fuck yes, you’re f-fucking soaking me, I can’t-shit-I c-can’t… baby, princess, beautiful girl…”

Your whole world is so soft and warm and full of him that you can’t think a mortal thought, but you know that you have to see the look on his face as he pants and karking whines as his thrusts dissolve into sloppy rutting. With the last of your remaining strength, you peel your wet lashes apart as you shakily tilt your head up. Everything is blurry and rose-hued, and… wet? You try to blink away the clouds in your vision but the bright sheen coating everything below your waist doesn’t disappear.

Seeing your confusion, Boba breaks out into a devilish grin that turns up his flushed cheeks. “See all this, s-sweetheart? See how much a real man c-can make you come?” he puffs out, breaking your gaze to drop his chin to chest. His brows knit together in concentration as if he’s hanging on the very last sliver of restraint.

You can only watch in downey bliss as he scrapes his hand down your belly to swipe his fingers through the wet rivulets trailing down your thighs, transfixed as he brings them dripping to his swollen lips. When the first finger disappears into his mouth, his eyes roll back and his dick throbs inside your ruined pussy. Realization slams into you watching him lap your juice from his palm like sweet nectar, his arms and shirt damply glinting in the sunlight.

I did that, I made him… holy fucking shit did I-

“Fucking hell, babygirl, I want you to squirt all over me every single kriffing day until I die,” Boba hisses, his wrecked rasp one second away from cracking. “Look like a fucking queen, my queen, lying there s-soaked and gorgeous- aaaahh!”

The revelation that you came so hard on his thick, perfect cock that you blacked out a little and squirted to the point Boba was completely soaked, all on your parents’ dining table makes you sob in pleasure and bare down on him with another blinding orgasm. Your fingernails scrape across the wood grain as you flail mindlessly, your back arching up as your head slams back against the table. This climax isn’t as powerful as the first but it still slings you out into the stars, spinning and tumbling through an aurora of colors and light.

The sudden emptiness of your cunt is replaced by hot ribbons slicing across your belly, pulling you out of the stars and back into your body. You’ve never had anyone come on you before—you had always insisted on a condom with your ex—and it feels impossibly erotic, almost degrading but in the best possible way; not like Boba didn’t care enough about you not to do it but that he was so out of his usually controlled mind with pleasure that he couldn’t help it. Pleasure that you brought him, pleasure he found in you.

You’re reaching for him, desperate to feel his skin, to know that all of this was real, that he wasn’t going to fade away into a dream. Boba leans forward catching himself on the edge of the table while he sucks in breath after shaky breath. He looks so beautiful fucked-out and soft, his usual sharp edges sanded down into a smooth sea glass that reveals a glimpse of his soul.

Eventually he stills and peeks up at you, watching you with adoring brown eyes. He whispers your name, warm and gentle, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He straightens up and reaches back to pull his t-shirt over his head to mop up your stomach and the liquid pooled between your thighs. His shoulders work in glorious exertion, and you watch in awe at the way his skin ripples with his silent strength.

Finished, he tucks the garment under his arm and eases your dress from your mouth and rearranges it back over your body, murmuring to wait right there. As if you would want to be anywhere other than here with him.

Boba isn’t gone for long, reappearing at your side with a flannel and a water bottle. He’s wearing a white tank top that fits snugly over his broad chest in such a way that it makes you consider seducing him for another around—if you only had the energy to do so. He coos over you, softly instructing you to lift your arms so he can remove your ruined dress. You happily float along, allowing him to undress you and curl you against his chest on the couch with his flannel laid over you for comfort. It smells of him, rich and warm, and he presses the water bottle to your lips. After several greedy gulps, you pull back and tuck your face into his neck, humming with satisfaction.

The two of you doze for a lazy hour, wrapped up in each other while the afternoon breeze pleasantly tinkles the windchimes on the deck.

Eventually, though, you have to break to clean and reclothe yourself. When you amble back outside, Boba has finished wiping down the table with cleaner and a rag from his truck.

“There she is,” he grins, “how’s my pretty princess feeling?”

“Amazing… a little wobbly,” you add truthfully. You’re not sure if your bones will ever fully resolidify after this. Boba opens his arm and you press yourself against him, relishing his touch while you still have it. You don’t want to think about him leaving. “What about you?”

It’s like he can sense your unease and he pulls you closer, placing a kiss into your hair. “Never been better, you were… kriff, you were amazing, baby. Filthy, perfect, wet… and soft, so so soft,” he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist, “like you were made just for me.”

He leans in to kiss you but stops when he sees the sullen look on your face. Cocking a brow, he lifts up your chin on two fingers. “What’s that look for?”

You can’t look at him. This is the part where he says goodbye and things go back to normal, where you part ways and pretend like this never happened. He’d be back day after day to finish the backyard, a sore reminder of what you desperately want but will never have. Why couldn’t you just let this be a fun fuck and let it go? Why did your heart have to ache for his?

“I-” you swallow the warble in your voice. “I, um… I don’t want to hold you up if you have another job or something after this.” You’re a big girl, you don’t need him to stay and prolong the inevitable—better to rip it off quick like a band-aid. You toss your head towards the table. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

Boba studies you silently, a frown shadowing his handsome features. Every second that passes with you in his arms has your resolve weakening more and more; too much longer and you’ll shatter against his chest.

“I don’t have anything after this…” He pauses, mulling over his words for a tense moment before continuing. “Is something wrong? Did I hurt you? Please, sweetheart, talk to me, if there’s anything I can do to-”

“No!” You break free from his embrace, hot tears of frustration beading behind your eyes. The last thing you want to do is hurt him but the longer he stays the more it’s going to tear you apart later. Boba steps back, giving you space and your heart twinges in your chest. “You’ve done nothing wrong, really. It’s just…”

Blowing out a quivering sigh, you force yourself to look him in the eye—he at least deserves that. “It’s just that I don’t like this part, especially with how amazing and wonderful you were. You are. I think it’s just better if we don’t draw this out.” Once again, your eyes drop with the weight of the fast-approaching future.

The following silence is almost unbearably thick, the air congealing to a sodden, soupy haze in your lungs. How could this hurt this much already?

Boba rubs his fingers over his lips thoughtfully, his tan forehead creasing. “Princess… it’s better if we don’t draw ‘what’ out?”

Maker, he is really going to make you say it. No, it wasn’t enough to have made you come so hard you literally soaked the both of you, you have to admit you’re falling for a man twice your age that you’ve known for a month, too. It would be easier to make yourself hate him for that but you can’t bring yourself to confess and do that in the same breath.

Folding your arms over your chest, you force your focus back on his face. “Boba, I… I know this was just for fun and I’m sorry for making this weird but it would be easier for me if we didn’t pretend this isn’t a goodbye. Like I feel nothing for you. Like you won’t show up here tomorrow like you didn’t fuck me right into my soul in my parents’ backyard.” You squeeze your eyes shut, your fingers curling into tight fists. “Please, just go.”

You can hear Boba shift and you crack open an eye to see him looking at you with longing deep enough to drown in. Finally, he says your name in a voice streaked with a vulnerable emotion you’d never seen him display. “Babygirl, I want you to listen to me, okay? I don’t know how that boy treated you before, but this was never a one time thing to me. I’m far too old to lay down with a woman I don’t intend on having by my side the next day, and all the days after that.”

Hope seizes your chest as his words settle into you.

Slowly he moves in front of you, taking your hands in his and gently rubbing them loose like he did before. “Now I’m no poet, sweetheart, I’m just a simple man making his way through life. I can’t make this sound as beautiful as you deserve, but I need you to know that I would never ever do anything to hurt you. I know it’s only been a month but kark, baby, I want you. I want to wake up to you in the mornings and hear your voice when I call you at lunch. I want to bring you tea while you study and make sure you don’t work yourself too hard. Most of all, though, my beautiful girl, I want you to be mine… because I’m already yours.”

The entire world shifts beneath your feet and you collapse into Boba’s waiting arms. When you bury your face into his shoulder, you pinch your thigh to make sure this was all still real. “D-do you,” your voice shakes, your joy threatening to overwhelm you, “do you really mean it?”

He kisses the top of your head and gingerly tilts your face up, caressing the swell of your cheek. “I’ve never been more serious, princess,” he smiles tenderly, “I want to make you mine. If you’ll have me, of course.”

You can’t help the choked laugh that burst from your chest. Pulling him closer, you meet his lips and throw everything you want to say into your kiss, sealing your sentiment into him with the press of your mouth. As much as you want to get lost in his sweet embrace, though, you break to give him an actual answer. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” you giggle breathlessly into him between more kisses. “In fact, I want you to make me yours over and over and over…”

But before you can get too cheeky, he swats your ass with a smirk. “Dirty girl, aren’t you? I’m old enough to be your father, you know.”

“Ah, well, the younger ones never did it for me anyways. I’ve always wanted a man with some… experience in getting me wet.” You bite your lip playfully and wiggle your brows at him. Now that the oppressive cloud of doubt has lifted from your mind, you feel positively giddy.

Boba smacks your ass again making you squeal in surprised delight. “Now I want you to go upstairs, pick up that cute little dress you ruined, and bring it to me.”

Your breath catches at his dark, delicious tone and you blink up at him, confused—and definitely turned on. “W-Why?”

Boba spins you around to face the house then wraps an arm around your middle to pull you back against his rising chest. “Because, princess,” he murmurs sinfully into your ear, nipping at the tender spot behind it, “I want something to remember you by tonight. Wanna smell that sweet little cunt while I tug on my cock and think about you coming in my mouth. And on my cock. And all over me.”

His salacious request goes straight to your still-swollen clit and you scurry to your room before you can lose your nerve. When you return, you find him leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and expression smug at your obedience. Where your desire to sass him might have been at such pompousness, however, is filled with warm bashfulness as you shuffle over to him. He stretches out the hand that had, until very recently, buried between your legs. Biting your lip, you suddenly can’t bring yourself to look at him as your cheeks burn with aroused embarrassment.

“Ah ah ah, let me see those pretty eyes, sweetheart,” he tuts. “Let me see that sweet look on your face when you give me the dress I made you squirt all over.”

Heat scalds through you, your heart pumping hot desire into your veins as you drag your eyes to meet his dark ones. Boba takes the dress almost reverently from your hand then brings it up to face and inhales deeply, his eyelids fluttering shut. He groans into the material, desire scraping the sound raw.

Fuck how are supposed to keep your hands off him long enough to get anything done ever again?

Before you have time to jump his bones, however, Boba’s phone rings loudly, making you jump. He huffs in annoyance and unhooks his phone from his toolbelt. “Sorry, princess, gotta take this.”

He answers the call, but opens up his arm so you can lean against him. As he talks, his fingers trail up and down your hip, tracing absent-minded patterns that make you glow with affection. The way his body responds to yours, his subconscious little touches, they all confirm his declaration—you’re so happy you might float away if not for his hold on you. All your problems seem far away at the moment and you’re content to leave it that way, if just for now.

When Boba hangs up, he pulls you close to plant a kiss on your forehead. “That was another client of mine,” he explains with a sigh.

You pout. “So you have to go?”

“Unfortunately.” Kissing you again, he swipes his thumbs over your cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, you know I’d much rather be with you. my pretty princess. Can I call you tonight?”

“Of course,” you smile. You enter your number into his phone and send yourself a text. “There. Now you’ll know it’s me.”

Looking down at the collection of suggestive emojis and hearts following your name, Boba lets out a hardy laugh. “As if I could ever forget you, sweetheart.” When he finally extricates himself from your feeble attempt to lock him in your arms, he tucks your dress into his belt with a wink. “For safekeeping,” he assures you.

Once he’s pulled away in his truck, you realize he left his flannel on the couch. Pulling it around your shoulders, you decide that if Boba could still put in an honest day’s work after fucking you senseless, then you could at least get some actual studying in. After all, your night is already booked.

#look y'all i wrote a fic about boba fett without calling him daddy for once 🙈#strongly implied though no worries #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 #contractor!boba fett #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #an honest day's work fic

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flightlessangelwings · 7 months

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FlightlessAngelWings Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Here is all 31 of my kinktober fics for 2023! I’m so thrilled to participate for the 3rd year in a row and I’m excited to share all these with y’all!! As always, and since they all obviously are smutty, my blog and all my fics are 18+ only so minors please do not interact! Prompt list is made by me this year and can be found here!

All extra warnings, word counts, and what type of reader used are listed on each individual fic.

Please follow @flightlessangelwings-updates and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post!

Banner made by me, dividers made by @saradika

Also on ao3!

❤️ = personal favorite

Overstimulation- Pero Tovar

Knife play- Axe Woves ❤️

Exhibitionism- Bishop Losa

Sex pollen- Nikolai Lantsov

Table sex- Sith!Obi Wan Kenobi

Bondage- Boba Fett

Slow and soft- Cal Kestis

Cockwarming- Marcus Moreno

Pegging- Steven Grant

Stripping- Cassian Andor

Blindfold- Marc Spector

Formal wear- Duke Atreides

Anonymous sex- Ezra ❤️

Tit play- Frank Castle ❤️

Against a wall- Bucky Barnes

Lap dance- Santiago Garcia ❤️

Praise kink- Loki

Dacryphilia- Comandante Veracruz

Somnophilia- Javi Gutiérrez

Sex toys- Fennec Shand

Piercings- Angel Reyes

Voice kink- Din Djarin

CNC- Will Miller

Lingerie- Joel Miller ❤️

Mirror sex- Tasm!Peter Parker ❤️

Face sitting- Frankie Morales/Benny Miller ❤️

Food play- Marcus Pike

Blowjob- Poe Dameron

Fingering- Tommy Miller ❤️

Cunnilingus- Thirteenth Doctor

FREE SPACE- Free use orgy with the Narcos boys (Javier, Carrillo and Steve)

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lieutenant-teach · 1 month

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Being a pro-Jedi fan is super hard.

Stumbled upon a scientific paper ‘The Psychgeist of Pop Culture’ (2024) about ‘The Mandalorian’ and ‘The Book of Boba Fett’ series. It’s divided into many smaller research by various PhDs. The Boba chapters are actually very good.

And then there’s ‘Fatherhood and male emotions’ chapter. About Jedi. About attachment. The authors Keely Diebold and Meghan Sander, PhDs, are claimed as Jedi fans.

Good start. / s Bad enough Din Djarin is called ‘Djarin’ as a name throughout the whole paper (my own pet peeve about the dick move of Favreau and Filoni in the end of Season 3 which is a decision to criticize in itself). Of course, Obi-Wan wasn’t a ‘good father figure’ as claimed by Lucas himself. Neither was Bail Organa. /s

Yeah. Hypocrisy. Hey, ‘Jedi fans authors’, have you actually watched the movies? Sigh. Seriously, ‘the intergalactic therapists’ who were trying to help Anakin to cope with his emotions so much, working with ‘cognitive therapy’ – they suppressed emotions. I just… don’t have any coherent thoughts about that bullshit on the screencap. And – now we defend Palpatine. Just great.

By the way, rewatching Indiana Jones movies, I paid special attention to the moments when someone of the team is left behind and the main characters continue chasing the enemies (just like in the mentioned scene in AOTC). And it’s never presented as ‘left behind and forgotten, heroes don’t care about them’.

What is evident to me is that this all is a piece of banthashit. Mandos with the suppression of emotions – I agree. Jedi? When one of their main proverbs ‘feel, don’t think’?

‘His own interpretation’? It’s not! Why did the authors decide that’s what happened? The point is that Anakin is taught ‘compassion, which … [is] unconditional love, is central to a Jedi’s life. … we are encouraged to love’ by the Jedi, but acts in the way he wants regardless. Screams in the plush Grogu How do people manage to watch obvious in messaging children films with their ass holes?

Frankly, I suspect that these ‘Jedi-fans’ authors just don’t understand and didn’t even try to explore the meaning of ‘attachment’ in Star Wars – it’s not ‘a deep and enduring emotional bond that connects one person to another’, it’s ‘selfishness’. They never tried to google Lucas’s interviews, but only used books about child rearing. This is why we have all this crap in a ‘scientific paper’. I firmly believe that @david-talks-sw, @writerbuddha, @kanansdume, @antianakin, @smhalltheurlsaretaken and other fans could write a whole paper about Jedi and attachments – and this would be real in-depth analysis of the Jedi and Star Wars.

And a rotten cherry on the top of this shitcake I noticed just before publishing – using ScreenRant as a reference not the smartest move, really.

Now how can a reader trust your judgment if you use fucking ScreenRant as a proof? Ah, no, they cannot (see this whole post).

#star wars #jedi #pro jedi #attachment issues #the mandalorian #star wars prequels

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corazondebeskar-reads · 6 months

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toni's fanfic masterlist

a collection of all of my fic, mostly ft. Din Djarin and Joel Miller

Key: 🏴 = dark, 💕 = fluff, ⛓ = bdsm, 💀 = dead dove do not eat

18+ ONLY, minors DNI. All fics on this list are explicit and f!reader unless otherwise stated.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

last updated: 4/6/2024

Din Djarin

Series

⛓💕 well it's love, make it hurt

(Complete, dom!Din Djarin x f!reader)

summary: After The Mandalorian begrudgingly teamed up with you for a big-ticket bounty, you find you work surprisingly well together, and you propose a short-term partnership. Weeks become months, and your hunting partnership becomes muddled as you explore a new dynamic onboard the Razor Crest.

🏴 live to rise

(complete; gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader)

summary: The Last of the Mandalorians have fallen; their Mand'alor captured. Stripped of his armor, his weapons, his people. Din rises to fight another day, grasping onto the hope that his son still lives.

No fighter has won their freedom from the Empire's arena before. With the help of a servant girl, can he hope to break free?

One Shots

don't let me get carried away

summary: Mando finds the toy you use when he's gone and makes you demonstrate.

for Manda'yaim (Din Djarin x f!reader x Paz Vizsla)

summary: Now that they have reclaimed their homeworld, the Children of the Watch resurrect an ancient ritual to secure the future of their people. Reader is one of the volunteers chosen to bear the next generation of Mando'ade.

🏴💀 worry not

summary: Mand'alor Din Djarin is haunted by the Darksaber, and you suffer the consequences.

💕 mhi ba'juri verde

summary: After Din is crowned Mand'alor, you make good on your promise to fulfill the rest of your vows.

🏴 ori'skraan

summary: The Mand'alor needs to feed to regain his strength, so you are called upon to fulfill the most sacred of your duties.

🏴💀I'll take care of you

summary: Din takes care of you after a head injury leaves you helpless.

stuck in a lonely loop

summary: Din can't let go of the feeling that something's wrong, even if you deny it.

🏴nobody is coming to save you

summary: You get caught by a Mandalorian bounty hunter after fleeing your marriage.

Din Djarin x reader x Boba Fett

copaani gaan? (Din Djarin x f!reader x Boba Fett)

summary: Din catches you blushing after Boba Fett flirts with you. He instigates and encourages you to fuck Fett while he watches.

mhi me'dinui an and prequel (Din Djarin x f!reader x Boba Fett x Cobb Vanth)

summary: After the events of The Book of Boba Fett, you get railed by Din Djarin, Boba Fett, and Cobb Vanth.

Joel Miller

Series

🏴💀 all I did was what I had to (complete; dark!Joel x f!reader)

summary: this is a series of snapshots following dark!raider/hunter!Joel Miller and f!reader, who he saves from her abusive spouse for a slightly better situation. It's very dark and so far all the parts involve watersports, if that's your kind of thing.

you know you never stood a chance (complete; qz!Joel x f!reader)

summary: When your neighbor Joel finds out you've resorted to prostitution to make ends meet, he makes sure he's your first client, and proposes a different deal.

ain't no rest for the wicked (complete; tess x f!reader x joel)

summary: Joel would never complain about what he and Tess have. The only thing is that, sometimes, he’d like to be the one in control. Tess has a proposition: she’ll find a sub for Joel that they can both enjoy. It’s not an easy feat... until they stumble upon you in a dark alley.

🏴💀 the art of breaking (pt. ii coming spring 2024)

summary: Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

🏴of rage and ruin (ongoing; werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader)

summary: Joel Miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. He turns into a much different kind of monster than he expected, though.

One Shots

🏴💀 the devil you don't know (or however it goes)

summary: When Joel's men bring back the (adult) daughter of a rival group of hunters, he sees an opportunity. This is VERY dark.

-- the aftermath (by demand; my thoughts on the possible endings. i stand by the original though.)

💕 a home amongst the stars

summary: Joel gets home after a late patrol and finds solace in your warm body.

💕 to know that you're mine

summary: Joel Miller is a pussy eating king with a praise kink. That's it, that's the fic. sub!Joel if you squint.

remember what you're staring at is me

summary: A videotape is left on your porch one morning, and it changes everything about your budding relationship with Joel Miller.

drabbles/ficlets

🏴💀 too much

summary: you never know when to shut up.

🏴 not enough

summary: a companion to "too much;" it's rough sex and choking with Joel. that's it, that's the fic.

🏴💀no one could save me but you

summary: You're under the care of Dr. Miller at an inpatient mental health facility. He has a vested interest in your "recovery."

🏴💀seasons don't

summary: Your husband dies a hero, but it's no comfort to you.

🏴💀no loyalty in the apocalypse

summary: Your group falls victim to Joel Miller's hunters.

🏴💀better run

summary: You should have never tried to run from Joel.

💕 let's all go to the lobby

summary: a date night with joel miller

💕 could be

summary: jackson is not your home. joel miller is not your boyfriend. but they could be.

Honorable Mentions: Events

(most of these are in the other sections but if you want to read through in order, there's this.)

Kinktober 2023

Febuwhump 2024

#joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x f!reader #dom din djarin #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfic #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #joel miller x f!reader

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tarrensbookmarks · 23 days

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Star Wars

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

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

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

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

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

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

dividers by saradika-graphics

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

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vodika-vibes · 5 months

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oh god prompt asks open I see??? how about something with both 1 and 4 with... boba maybe? rotj era boba. that edgy smug bastard. I haven't read anything with him in a WHILE 💔💔💔

ps ur writings are amazing!!

Punishment

Summary: You disobeyed Boba's rules, the rules that you agreed to ages ago, and now you have to face the delicious consequences.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Word Count: 1714

Warnings: Smut. Oral, M receiving

Prompts: “I want to hear you beg” and "Swallow it. All of it."

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: This one feels awkward, but I'm not sure if it's just written awkwardly, or if it's my uber religious upbringing making me feel that way. I'm going to guess that it is. I hope you like it!

Divider by Saradika

You can count on one hand the number of people who know where you live, and also know the keycode to your door and the code to your alarm system, so, when you’re woken up in the dead of night at the sound of your alarm getting turned off, you’re not half as alarmed as you could have been.

In fact, there’s only one person, other than you, who has both the door code and the alarm code.

And while burying yourself in your blankets and pillows is so very tempting, instead you sit up and swing your legs off the side of the bed. You don’t bother adding any additional clothes, the long shirt- his shirt, to be more specific- covers enough of your body to not be improper.

You step out of your room, and follow the hall into the living room. And a sleepy smile crosses your face as you see Boba quizzically eyeing a shelf that’s new since his last visit.

“It’s for your armor,” You say as a greeting, “Since I know how you hate leaving your armor sitting on the floor.”

He glances at you, and if you had to bet, you’d say that Boba knew that you were awake before you even got out of bed. He sets his helmet in one of the cubbies, on a stand specifically for his helmet, and then he turns to look at you properly.

A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth, “Is that my shirt, princess?” He asks.

You smile at him placidly, “Possession is nine-tenths of the law, so technically it’s my shirt now.”

“Looks good on you,” Boba replies, his voice a low rumble.

You cross the room at a lazy pace, and as soon as you’re close enough his arms are securely around your waist, and you slide your hands up his chest plate to wrap your arms around his neck, “Everything looks good on me, I am amazingly attractive.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He says in agreement as his hands start slowly sliding the shirt up, revealing the simple cotton panties that you slipped on after your shower.

“If I knew you were on your way, I would have put on something else.” You admit with a small pout, “I bought some lingerie to show off for you.”

“Wanted to surprise you.” He admits in turn as one of his hands slides up to the back of your head, “Missed you.” He adds with a scowl, as if the admission pained you.

You grin at him and stand on your toes to chastely press your lips against him, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” You whisper against his lips. “And I missed you too.”

“Is that right? How much did you miss me?”

“A lot.” Your fingers move to the seals holding his armor on, and you deftly start popping them.

Boba lightly bats your hands away from his armor, and he takes over. He swiftly removes each piece and sets them on the shelf, until he’s stripped down to his undersuit, it takes about half a minute, and you watch him with an appreciative eye.

Your Boba is so attractive, you can’t help but admire when you get the chance.

“You know, princess.” Boba starts as he grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, and you’re not the least bit surprised when you feel his hard length pressed against your stomach, “I was very surprised when I got that holo recording of you the other day.”

Your face flames, “Uhm…I can explain…” You start.

“Especially,” he continues over your, “Since I’m fairly certain I told you you weren’t allowed to touch your pretty cunt without asking.”

You pout at him and shoot him your saddest tooka eyes, “I missed you.”

“Is that an explanation or an excuse, princess?”

Your pout morphs into a grin, “Yes.”

Amusement crosses his face, “You know I have to punish you now, don’t you princess?”

Your pout returns, “But Bobaaaa-” You drag his name out in a distinct whine as you press yourself firmly against him and rock against his length, pulling a hiss from him. “Wouldn’t you rather just fuck me?”

“Rules are rules, Princess.” He counters, “And you did agree to the rules.” Boba reminds you as his hands tighten on your hips, his gaze is locked on yours, as if waiting for you to say something.

And you huff as you press your face against his chest. You did agree to the rules. Months ago. And you also know that if you say your safeword he’ll stop. But, stars help you, you don’t want him to stop.

So instead you look up at him through lowered lashes, “Did you not like my holo, Boba?”

His eyes glitter with desire, “I didn’t say that. I fisted my cock to that video multiple times since I got it.” He roughly pulls your shirt up and off and throws it to the side, “But just because I liked it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve punishment.”

You feel a thrill of delight, and you try to press yourself against him, but he holds you still with his firm grip, “So, what’s my punishment, Boba?”

“Hm, I’m beginning to think you want to be punished, Princess.”

You press both of your hands against your chest and shoot him a look of mock offense, “I’ve never done anything worthy of punishment.”

“Mm-hmm.” He hooks his fingers in the band of your panties and snaps them, pulling a yelp from your lips, “Take these off, Princess.”

You grin at him and obediently slide the thin material down your legs and toss them to join your shirt on the other side of the room.

“Hm, so you can be obedient.” Boba murmurs as he slides his hand over your bare ass.

“When it suits my purposes.” You confirm with a grin.

His hand lands hard on your ass, and you squeak and jerk away from his hand, and then you pout at him as he massages the sting away with his hand, “So you intentionally disobeyed.” Boba notes thoughtfully.

Your expression becomes angelic, and he chuckles.

“I want to hear you beg, Princess.” Boba says, his voice heavy with desire, “But that’s going to come later.”

“What!? Later?” Oh, that wasn’t supposed to be a whine, but it definitely came out as a whine.

He chuckles, a dark noise that makes you shiver, “Yes, Princess. Later.” His hand slides up your back. “Right now I’m going to take your mouth.” His hand slides up to rest on the back of your neck, “And if you even think about touching that pretty little cunt of yours, princess, this punishment will become even longer. Do you understand?”

You nod rapidly, your gaze already drifting to the bulge in the front of his pants.

He grabs your chin and lifts your gaze to meet his, “Use your words, princess.”

“I understand,” You say, “I’ll be good.”

“Hm, we’ll see won’t we.” He allows you to tug him over to the couch and he sits comfortably, while you grab a pillow for your knees and you settle between his legs, “Hm, someone’s eager.” Boba murmurs as he sets his hand on the top of your head.

You trail your tongue down his hard length, still covered by the cloth of his bodysuit, and then you look up at him, “I told you that I missed you.” You free his cock from his pants and immediately press a kiss to the leaking head as you grip the base with a firm hand.

You’ll probably never be able to take his entire length in your mouth, but you are very talented with your hands, and Boba’s never once complained about you lacking that particular ability.

You trail your tongue down his length, and then back up, before you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and you start a shallow bobbing motion while hollowing your cheeks.

Boba’s hands brush across your face as you work, pushing your hair back, tracing over your eyes, and absent praises fall from his lips mixed with his moans as you expertly work him over with your mouth and hands.

With every bob of your head you take a little more of him into your mouth, until you have as much of him in your mouth as you can handle. Boba’s gaze is locked on your face as you bring him closer and closer to the brink.

And then his hands are on your face, “Look at me Princess,” Boba says through a groan. Your eyes, which had fallen shut at some point, snap open and your gaze locks with his. “Swallow it.” He orders, “All of it.”

You hum around him and his hips jerk up at the sensation. And then his head falls back and a low groan escapes him as he spills his release into your mouth with little warning.

And you obediently do as he ordered, swallowing every drop of his release. You keep your lips around him, until you feel his hand on the top of your head, lightly stroking your hair to indicate for you to stop.

“Good girl,” Boba murmurs as you sit back on your heels, “So obedient, did so good for me.”

You shiver under his praise, and he chuckles, before he peels his shirt off and tosses it across the room, “Does that mean no more punishment?” You ask as you drag your gaze across his chest.

“Mm…no. It just means that I’ll be able to have your punishment last as long as I have planned.” He stands and helps you to your feet, one of his hands dipping between your thighs to brush against your dripping pussy, “Mm, so wet for me.” Boba murmurs as he kisses you quickly, “To the bedroom, Princess. I want you to find the toys you used in the holo. You’re going to put on a show for me, my pretty girl.”

At that, your face burns. “Okay.”

“Good girl,” He repeats. Boba takes a moment to slide his pants down, and he tosses them to join the rest of the clothes on the floor, and then he encourages you to head towards the bedroom.

#star wars #sw rotj #boba fett x reader #boba x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #18+ fic #answered asks #clone thirsting #technically

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notes-from-sarah · 6 months

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Read This, Not That - Star Wars Edition

There's so many Star Wars books it can be hard to know where to start. Of course, you can just read everything if you want, but if you have limited time and can't decide between two similar titles here's my list of which ones are worthy of your time (and sometimes braincells). I make no distinction between Legends EU and New EU in this list because none of this stuff is one coherent continuity anyway (no matter what they tell you). Instead, I'm focusing on the characters and how good the stories are for that character. List is roughly in timeline order and divided by similar books about the same character.

Obi-Wan as a Padawan

Master and Apprentice by Claudia Gray > Padawan by Kiersten White

Anakin and Obi-Wan

The Approaching Storm by Alan Dean Foster > Brotherhood by Mike Chen

Obi-Wan on Tatooine

Kenobi by John Jackson Miller > Obi-Wan: A Jedi's Purpose by Christopher Cantwell (comic)

Kanan Jarrus

A New Dawn by John Jackson Miller > Kanan Omnibus by Greg Weisman (comic)

Grand Admiral Thrawn

Heir to the Empire by Timothy Zahn > Thrawn by Timothy Zahn

Han Solo

Scoundrels by Timothy Zahn > Honor Among Thieves by James S. A. Corey

Boba Fett

Blood Ties, vol 1-2 by Tom Taylor (comic) > The Mandalorian Armor by K. W. Jeter

Princess Leia

Tatooine Ghost by Troy Denning > Razor's Edge by Martha Wells

Luke Skywalker

Heir to the Jedi by Kevin Hearne > Splinter of the Mind's Eye by Alan Dean Foster

#Star Wars #Star Wars Books #Books #Book Recommendation #Princess Leia #Luke Skywalker #Han Solo #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Boba Fett #Grand Admiral Thrawn #Kanan Jarrus #Qui-Gon Jinn #Jedi #Expanded Universe #EU #NewEU #Star Wars Legends #Long Post

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stars-n-spice · 5 months

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Boba Fett Themed Holiday Dividers! (PT. 2)

Requested by @kimiheartblade

Hope you like them! If there's anything you want me to tweak or if you have any specific requests, let me know :D I had a lot of fun making these!

Part One Batch

I'm taking requests!

Like/Reblog if you use! Credit me if you'd like :) If you like my work consider buying me a coffee 🩵☕️

#boba fett #dividers #holiday dividers #christmas dividers #boba fett dividers

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saradika · 7 months

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Aesthetic Dividers for Fics & Masterlists

edit: as of 11/20/23 this will no longer be updated - please go to @saradika-graphics for requests & new resources!

AESTHETIC - CELESTIAL

— Stars & Space | Sun

— Stars & Space | Moon

— Stars & Space | Planets

— Stars & Space | Purple

AESTHETIC - FLORAL

— Bees/Honey/Flowers

— Cherry Blossom / Peach

— Dark Romantic Florals

— Daisies

— Fall Florals

— Cute Flowers

— Pastel Floral

— Pastel Green & Blue Florals / Navy Blue

— Red Poppies

— Roses/Chains / Gothic Roses

— Sunflowers

AESTHETIC - HEARTS

— Black Hearts

— Hearts

— Heartbeat Dividers

— Lilac Hearts

— Pastel Blue Hearts

AESTHETIC - OTHER

— 50’s Neon Diner

— Art Deco (Blue Version)

— Beige Daggers

— Black and Grey

— Black & Red Grunge

— Blue & Yellow Dividers

— Blue & Orange Feathers

— Christmas & Winter

— Citrus

— Cottagecore / Dark Academia

— Cowboy (part ii) (dark) (space)

— Cute Pastel

— Ghostface

— Halloween

— Maroon & Purple

— Mothman

— Ocean | Part ii

— Orange & Green Dividers

— Pale Pink Dividers

— Pink/Coquette

— Pizza/Spaghetti

— Purple, Pink & Blue Dividers

— Rain/Storm

— Ravens/Moons/Roses

— Red/Black Scroll Work

— Red & Yellow Dividers

— Smutty | Pastel

— Taylor Swift (Folklore)

— Vampires

— Warm Grey Dividers

— Werewolves

— Windows/Webcore

FANDOM

— Across the Spider-Verse | Hobie

— Alice in Wonderland

— Boba Fett (Star Wars)

— Clone Trooper/Star Wars

— Fennec Shand

— FNAF

— Lightsabers (Star Wars) / Part 2

— Silmarillion/Tolkien & Lord of the Rings

— Sith-Inspired Dividers (Star Wars)

— Stardew Valley | Part ii

✨(Everything was made in and using Canva - so definitely check that app out if you’re looking to make your own! Here, here, here and here are some tips on using the app / making graphics if you haven’t before!) (and credit is not required but a reblog would be great if you use! 💕) ✨

#dividers #fic dividers #tumblr dividers #graphics #line dividers #aesthetic dividers #saradika’s graphics

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daimyosprincess · 1 month

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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

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margowritesthings · 9 months

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Te Beroya: I

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Mandalorian!Arthur Morgan x reader crossover: Star Wars x Red Dead Redemption prompt: 24. “Your charms won’t work on me, pretty. I’m not that kind of bounty hunter.” & 45. “You’re prettier than the stars above, you know that?” (from @saradika's Star Wars prompts!) word count: 3359 words warnings: brief mentions of harassment in a flashback, implied non-con intentions but flashback ends before anything happens, somewhat suggestive fighting authors note: this is shameless self care where I have no idea if anyone will even read this, but I totally just sat and wrote the whole ass thing last night in one sitting?? anyway, this is 100% inspired by @saradika's incredible fallout/star wars AU, and it will be a mini series! I hope y'all enjoy, cause Mandalorian!Arthur has my whole ass heart. If you're here from Red Dead and have no idea whats going on, I've left a little glossary at the bottom of the fic with any terms I've used!!

i haven't tagged anyone cause i didn't know if my usual Arthur people would like a crossover or not, so please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next part!!

beta read by @cowboydisaster, divider by @saradika

Max Rebo is on tonight, so the Cantina is busy. More so than usual, which gladly works in your favour. It’s much easier to blend in with the rabble when there’s so many of them, diminishing the danger of getting a simple drink after a long day. You miss the time when danger wasn’t something you had to consider before something as simple as a trip to the watering hole, but that’s life now.

You’re sitting at a table for two, the second chair pulled away by a group of Klantoonians playing Dejarik and making bets amongst each other, which works fine for you. An empty chair might invite guests, which is the last thing in the Galaxy you want right now.

When you throw your drink to the back of your throat, it burns just how you like it, though the sight of a now empty glass pulls your brows together in an almost pout. You have very few credits left, and with your face coded into half the bounty pucks this side of the Outer Rim, work is pretty sparing these days.

A knight in shining beskar turns heads as he strolls into the Cantina, a Mandalorian whos helmet catches the dim spotlights scattered around the dusty bar when he appears to survey the clientele surrounding you, capturing your attention in the process. It’s a rare sight, seeing a Mandalorian walk so openly around the place, and the man instantly ignites a fascination in you. Sure, the Daimyo around here has the armour, but Boba Fett doesn’t claim to be a part of any creed, so you’re not entirely sure where he stands.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that it isn’t until the stranger is right in front of you, two glasses in hand, do you realise he was even approaching.

“Mind if I sit? I can pay rent.” He asks, his low, gruff accent hinting at origins in Mos Pelgo Freetown- as he gestures to the two glasses grasped in gloved hands. Curious eyes scan over his figure, tall and built as he is, landing on the full glass of whiskey with your name on it. A solution to your dry problem, albeit a risky one. It all depends on how much you’re willing to gamble for a drink…

“If you can find a seat, sure…” You shrug, fauxing a nonchalant air about you to keep suspicions low. You have no reason to trust this man, but showing that so openly would surely attract questions you’re not prepared to answer.

The glasses are placed down, the mystery Mandalorian taking a few steps, winding around the merry crowds to reach the nearest table. You watch on, amused, pretty sure anyone in this whole place would choose a fight over giving up their seat; the Cantina hardly has the clientele of the highest calibre. It’s an apprehension you feel, almost an excitement, at the thought of a fight breaking out and distracting everyone enough for you to pick a few pockets. And you’ve already got your drink…

You’re busy planning who you’re gonna steal from when you notice the presence this man commands. He’s tall, built up with muscles packed under his beskar. You can’t see his face, and you wonder if he’s one of those Mandalorians who never remove their helmets, your curiosity officially piqued. He approaches the group who took the seat in the first place, one of them scoffing at what you assume to be a request for the seat. You sit up, ready for the ensuing fight, but it never comes. Instead, the Mandalorian leans down, right up to the other’s face, and it’s far too loud in here to hear what he’s said, but stars would you love to know what has a Klantoonian scrambling up like that and offering out the stool.

Disappointment and a strange sense of admiration mixes in you as you lean back into your seat, your new tablemate following suit and sliding one glass across to you.

“Cheers,” You announce, lifting your glass to clink it against thin air before taking a sip, savouring the burn over your tongue a little more this time. The Mandalorian nods his head in response, and just as you think you’ve worked him out, he reaches for his helmet and pulls it off his head, placing it down on the table and taking a gulp from his own drink.

It takes you a moment to take him all in. His sandy hair, tousled from the helmet, a couple strands falling in front of his tanned skin. He has the jawline of a deity, spattered with stubble that is only broken with a small scar on his chin.

Dank Farrik.

You know his face. You know this man, you’ve seen that scar, those eyes, (though even in the dark cantina you can see an incredible ocean hue that no hologram nor poster could never hope to capture) before, hanging on the walls of the underground bars you used to frequent before every crime family on the planet were after your head.

Arthur Morgan, bounty hunter.

It’s too late to flee, and the disruption you’d cause by bolting would only draw more attention to you, so your only option appears to be complacency, for now. Act the fool, pretend you don’t know exactly who he is and why he’s here, and let whatever little plan he has in store for you play out until you can excuse yourself and get the hell out of here.

You school your expression to as much indifference as you can, though the rather long sip of your drink may have given you away. Arthur watches you intently, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was buying you a drink to flirt with you. But you do know better, unfortunately.

“You know,” he starts, drawing out the statement and retaining your attention with a long sip of his own, “You’re prettier than the stars above.”

Whiskey shoots down your throat and back up again with your little splutter, not expecting this to be his plan. You just about manage to suppress the scoff rising up like bile, concealing it in a cough. Your fight or flight is in hyperdrive, and the reverend Arthur Morgan laying on the fake charm in order to cash in on the price on your head really isn’t helping. He’s good, though, you had to give him that. It’s a mighty fine pickup line coming from a mighty fine looking man, it’s just a shame he’s trying to capture you.

“Afraid your charms won’t work on me, pretty boy. I’m not that kinda girl.”

“Pretty boy, really?” He doesn’t seem mad, more amused, a raised brow meeting with a little chuckle and a head shake as he throws the last of his drink back down.

It’s now or never.

You throw the last of your own drink back, part for the plan, part for the Dutch courage needed to actually pull the plan off.

“Same again?” You ask, your stool squeaking awkwardly against the stone floor when your straightening legs push it into the wall, “I think this rounds on me.”

It’s a near perfect act of indifference, with only a single, traitorous voice break right at the end. You hope he doesn’t notice, but it’s wishful thinking. Arthur stands too, echoing your stools creak, his hand reaching on instinct to the holster hanging by his hip.

Dank farrik dank farrik dank farrik!!

“Don’t you worry about that, pretty girl.” The way he throws your pet name back at you… he knows you know, and you have seconds to act.

Eyes wide, like a bantha in headlights, you take your chances in throwing the last of your drink back, before throwing the glass over to the table of gamers and gamblers. It hits one of them on the back of the head, and everybody turns to him, the music cutting off abruptly for a few seconds of silence before the chaos erupts.

You’re the first to move, breaking the almost comical freeze frame to put one boot on the table and push it into Arthur. He lunges for you, missing by inches, so close you feel the air rush past your skin where he nearly grazes you. The table hits him in the stomach, and he’s forced to bend over it, giving you the perfect opportunity to risk everything and grab the blaster jutting out. You shoot twice, high into the ceiling, which really kicks things off. The cantina soon descends into riot status, with punches thrown, drinks flying and the like. The distraction you’ve been after ever since he walked in here with his uneasy air and the hairs on the back of your neck first began to stand on edge.

The path out is far from easy, and you’re pretty sure you stood on more than a few limbs, but when the dry heat of a Tatooine night hits you, you’ve never been so grateful. You don’t look back once, not knowing if he’s following you or even if he saw where you’re going, you just run until your lungs burn and your muscles scream at you and then you run some more. There’s a spot you know, an abandoned farm house just outside the city that’s covered in sand and looks like it hasn’t been touched in years. You hid out there once before, the last time a bounty hunter tried their luck with you, successfully prolonging this never ending hunt where you’re the prey every damn time.

It’s a long night, one where you don’t sleep a wink nor dare to light a fire. It doesn’t seem like Arthur followed you, but it was a few hours after reaching the farmhouse did you release the grip of your stolen blaster enough for it to no longer press each metal marking into the skin of your palm. You keep your back pressed firmly against the wall of one of the sand-filled alcoves, keeping hidden from sight until the suns are both well above the horizon. The mid-morning heat is a grateful relief from the biting cold; even the desert cools in the dead of night.

You spot the bantha first, letting it lure you into a false sense of security before it gets close enough for you to make out the details of its silhouette, one detail in particular being the goddamn bounty hunter sitting atop it.

The fact that he’s here at all means he knows he’ll find you here, but logic doesn’t get in the way of you scuttling back into the house, climbing to what used to be the second floor and pulling the blaster back out to press against your chest.

Not exactly the faster creatures in the Outer Rim, it takes the bantha and its rider a few torturous minutes to reach you, but when they do arrive, Arthur dismounts casually, with no indication that he intends to send you back to your maker. Your breath hitches as he walks down the little incline of sand into the ruins of the house.

He turns on his heel, and you notice the spurs on his boots make a little circle in the sand around his feet.

“I know you’re here, mesh’la,” he taunts, bringing out a Mando’a translation of the newly formed inside joke you seem to share now, “Ain’t no point hiding.”

He’s right, you know he is. There is no way out, no possibility you’re going to escape him, and even if you did, there’s no cover out here. He’ll be able to sit back and watch wherever you run, just waiting to follow. You could shoot him, but the weight of the blood you’ve already spilled is already becoming too much. Could you really carry more?

Tears threaten to prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall, refuse to let the shaking of your hands carry on for any longer than your cover does. He won’t see the cracks in your facade, that you’ll make sure of.

“You’re prettier than the stars above, you know that?”

It will be a cold day on Mustafar when the great Arthur Morgan bows to flattery, but that doesn’t stop you from poking whatever fun you can reach.

Your voice echoing around the remains of the farmhouse alerts Arthur of your general location, so he turns to it, giving you a full view of the amused grin on his face.

“Your charms won’t work on me, pretty girl. I ain’t that kind of bounty hunter.”

You laugh. A genuine, true laugh, despite yourself. Despite everything.

“Come on out now, no-one needs to get hurt…” He pleads, wandering eyes indicating he’s still not 100% sure where you are.

“Except me, when you hand my ass in for a few credits.” You point out, noticing that your back and forth seems to have quelled the tremors in your hands. Let’s not ponder that right now…

Arthur looks taken aback, like he genuinely doesn’t know what to say to that. Good. Let him stutter to death for all you care.

“Well, maybe you shoulda’ thought of that before you started sloggin’ off some mighty powerful people, sweetheart…”

His comment seems to spark, igniting a firework of anger deep within you. It explodes loudly, albeit quickly, when you aim Arthur’s own blaster to beside his feet, firing a warning shot that smokes in the sand. You wouldn’t be surprised to see one of his boots singed with how close you were, but when he jumps back, pulling out another identical blaster from a second holster and aiming it right at your alcove, you curse inwardly. How did you not notice that?

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, bounty hunter.” You seethe, that anger burning hot as he claims to understand your situation.

“Well why don’t you come out here and we can talk about it?”

That earns a scoff, which Arthur responds to with a long sigh.

“Look… way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can come out, do this the easy way, and I can bring you in nice and warm, get my full fee, and you live to see another day. Or-”

“Yeah, I get it, beroya,” You spit the Mando’a name out like a curse, “Or you can kill me right now and have a real lonely drive back to wherever the hell it is they want my corpse.”

You hate that he’s right, hate that you’re cornered, hate that it’s over, ignoring the small part of you that sighs relief at the prospect of no longer having to live life with one eye on your back.

There’s one last, long, deep breath, the exhale feeling like letting go of something, though you’re not sure if it’s freedom or the captivity this hunt has kept you in, and then you’re jumping from the second floor, landing in the sand with a thud. You’re still clutching the gun, but so is Arthur, and you’re not sure you’d fare well in a duel against an actual sharpshooter, so you toss it over to him, sand flying off at him in a final, petty move.

Arthur picks it up, holstering a pistol at each hip as he slowly approaches, hands raised like a keeper trying to tame a wild rancor. You can’t decide if you like that allegory on not, rancors can get pretty vicious…

The handcuffs you also didn’t notice last night hang from the bounty hunter’s belt. You’re still while he corners you, appearing willing when he plucks the binders from his belt. It isn’t until you feel gloved hands against your skin do the prickles on the back of your neck start burning and the urge to flee rises up again like bile.

Phantom hands, Trandoshan ones, appear all over your body as you’re flung out of reality from a single touch.

“Aren’t you a gem?” his whisper just about reaches your ear, warm breath bubbling at the skin of your neck like acid. He runs a claw across your jaw, resting it below your chin so you can’t look away.

“Please don’t touch me.” You demand, though your voice is weak. Scared. You know what happens to girls who don’t do what they’re told around here.

That displeasure spreading across his face twists and contorts it when he registers your disobedience. Notably, his claws remain on you, and when you try to step backwards, he crowds you, following until your back hits the cold stone wall. Claustrophobia sets in, your breath hitching when you feel his chest press against yours.

“Hm… I think I will, girl. Nobody says no to me, you’ll do well to remember that.”

The stench of whatever cologne rich Trandoshan boys wear lingers in your nostrils like it so often does, but your mind catches up with where you really are faster than your body does. It’s instinct, when you bring your knee up to hit Arthur hard in the gut and completely wind him. He lets out a groan, doubling over and dropping the binders in the process, which you kick across the sand.

You use his distraction to push him over onto his back, but he grabs the lapels of your jacket and drags you down with him so you’re straddling him, crotch to crotch as you attempt to pin him down into the sand. Your thighs squeeze together in an attempt to constrict his wriggling, but he’s pretty strong. You’re not thinking straight when you pull your fist back, with every intention of striking Arthur in the face, but the shock of his catching your fist in his much bigger hands seems to bring you back to reality and you realise what you’re doing.

Frozen, for only a second, but it’s enough window to give Arthur chance to overpower you, twisting your bodies together until you’re below him instead and he can pin down each arm by the wrist. Your thighs remain wrapped around him, and with Arthur towering over you, it has suddenly become an awfully intimate position shared between the two of you. His face is inches from yours, his hot, panting breaths mixing with yours. Both of your chests rise and fall, just barely touching as you glare into eachothers eyes.

“The hell was that?!” He demands, and you’re trying your absolute hardest to ignore the prodding you feel against your thigh. Maker help you…

He doesn’t deserve a response from you, only the ceasing of your strained muscles trying to escape his iron grip as a silent admit to defeat. With the way you fell, your satchel is digging awkwardly into your lower back, so you raise your hips slightly to ease the ache. An unexpected effect of that is your pelvis grinding oh-so gently against Arthur’s, which seems to bring a surge of energy to that bulge pressing against you. Your eyes widen, as do Arthur’s, and there’s one single moment shared between the two of you before he quickly scrambles off you, not releasing his bruising grip on your wrists.

When he stands, he doesn’t give you the chance to before he’s walking to the direction you kicked his cuffs. It drags you along the coarse sand, your wrist screaming from the strain of carrying your weight.

“Ow- you’re gonna break my wrist, you fucking nerf herder!” You hiss at him, kicking your legs in protest as sand flies about the place and you’re dragged to the cuffs.

“Shoulda’ thought about that before ya tried to break my goddamn nose, mesh’la.” The term of endearment is anything but sincere, coupled with rough movements as he cuffs you that hint that he may be pretty pissed about the sudden unexpected fight. The binders are a little too tight to ever be comfortable, but you’re pretty sure that’s intentional. A slice of revenge for trying to run again.

“These are too tight.” You complain, lifting your wrists up to his standing form.

“Well, you better get used to it. We’ve got a long ride to Mos Espa, Princess.”

beroya - bounty hunter dank farrik - curse word mesh'la - beautiful trandoshan - an alien species, one of the crime families of tatooine

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