#irno favara
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Hellos! Going thru Dad Bane fic and started to wonder how did Bane react to pregnancy news? Oksana gave the impression that he would choose the dead beat path as he wasnt to be tied down…but here we are four kids after and Irno on his side…
So I already wrote about the first time here and the other time here, so have the second baby!
---
23:55
<<🏆 Trophy Husband 🏆>>
BE LANDING SOON. HOME BY 2 IF YOU WANT TO WAIT UP.
23:57
<<pays taxes like a chump>>
[[reality_theBachelorCoruscant_Lilo_HappyDance.hgif]]
yay <3
i'm bushed but i'll make a bowl for you
risotto with mushrooms and nerf sausage
just pop it in the oven for a minute
23:59
<<🏆 Trophy Husband 🏆>>
LOVE THAT SHIT
THANKS
00:08
<<pays taxes like a chump>>
actually i'll wait up. i need to talk to you about something
00:10
<<🏆 Trophy Husband 🏆>>
THIS BETTER NOT BE THE DIVORCE TALK
I WANT THE CAT
00:12
<<pays taxes like a chump>>
oh maker no. just have news
>:(
you can have vincenzo when you pry him from my cold dead freshly manicured fingers
00:13
<<🏆 Trophy Husband 🏆>>
🔫🔫🔫
LIKE FUN TABLOID NEWS OR FAMILY NEWS
00:14
<<pays taxes like a chump>>
family news
kinda
---
Bane can't help but stare at you. "Yer serious."
You nod, mouth set in a line. "I got the blood test this morning," you say. "Roaring positive."
His stomach churns. His head feels fuzzy. His knees lock up and, fortunately, you give him a light shove onto the couch so he doesn't just stand there gawping like an idiot.
He sinks into the cushion, willing it to absorb him. He can't deal with this right now. And yet, based on the cross of your arms and the purse of your lips, he has to.
"So what're ya gonna do?" he mumbles.
You flop next to him. "I don't know," you say. “I wanted to talk to you first.” You give a dry smile. “It’s as much your fault as it is mine.”
Were he a softer man, the conflict on your face would be heartbreaking. He knows what's going through your mind -- you love kids. You love your kid. You love his kid. You'd love nothing more than to have another one running around.
And yet, you're not a fool. You're a criminal married to a crook. Another baby is another liability, another weak link in the chain. Not to mention the havoc it'd wreak on your body.
He's no fool either. The first time was hard enough. He doesn't know if he could handle another mouth to feed. Another diaper to change. Another heart running around outside his body. Another living, breathing creature to constantly worry about--
"Daddy?"
He glances up. A tiny shadow peeks around the corner, red eyes glowing. Speak of the Devil and she’ll appear, her blanket draped around her head and shoulders like a Jedi's robe.
He can't help but smile. He sits up from his slouch and leans forward. "Evenin', li'l miss," he says with a tip of his hat. "It's past yer bedtime."
"Heard talkin'." She yawns, her little needle teeth glinting in the light. She rubs her eyes with the heel of her palm. "Wanted to say hi."
He pats his knee. "Come say it, den."
She lets out a happy trill and toddles over, bare feet slapping against the tile. She hauls herself up into his lap and nestles right against his belly.
He lays a hand on her head, stroking his fingertips along her brow ridges. The purrs start immediately, sounding exactly like when Todo's rotor spins out.
You shift closer to him and lay your head on his shoulder. You've got that expression on his face that he still can't put words to. Serene? Motherly? Exhausted? He has no idea. But whenever she purrs, that's the look you get.
A few moments pass. Maybe more than a few. Long enough that the Little Lady falls back asleep and nearly pitches forward off of the sofa.
You swoop in like a mynock before she hits the ground, catching her with your nimble hands. The sudden jolt scares her, but your tone is gently jovial. "Silly girl," you chide as you stand. "Back to bed before you bump your head."
She keeps her eyes fixed on him as her lips curl into a sneer. "No."
Bane can't help but chuckle. She looks as ferocious as a loth-kitten. "Gotta get yer rest, girl."
Her sneer fades into a frown. "But... But you've been gone so long. I wanna sit with you."
Ow. Right in the heart. He knew she'd be a crack shot, but not like this.
"Daddy will still be here in the morning. Right?" You give him a pointed look, and he nods. "Let's get you tucked in."
The girl hesitates. Her eyes fall on Bane, and she reaches out her arm. "...Can Daddy tuck me in too?"
A golden warmth swells his chest. Plucking his hat from his head, he places it on the caf table as he stands. "'Course he can."
She chirrups happily and settles into your arms, her eyes drifting closed. You smile at her, then at him. "Talk after?" He nods, and you head for the stairs.
Another pair of feet pitter-pattering around. Another set of tiny clothes. Another little baby in his arms, small and sweet and chirping as it stares at its daddy. Not caring who he is or what he does.
His gut stops churning as he follows you up the stairs.
He still likes the name Winrel.
---
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Decided that my first post would be a fanart of Irno Favara, @sporadicthingcollection beautiful character from her fanfiction.
I love her look during “Skin and Bones” chapters, so I had to draw her like this. And I also wanted to make Irno using some clothes that would match her style.
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Cad Bane and Irno Favara
Irno Favara is a Zeltron OC from 99 Problems by @sporadicthingcollection
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Prompt: Dad Cad and his kids coming home/caught sneaking home drunk for the first time. They got it from their mom. Hilarity ensues. A hint of walk of shame maybe? 🤔
The Bounty Hunter’s Guide to: Breaking Curfew
Summary: In which the Little Lady stays out a little late, Bambi operates flight machinery under the influence, and Bane nearly wears a rut in the floor.
Pairing: Cad Bane x F!Reader
Word Count: ~1.6k
Rating: General.
Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, nonconsensual drug use
---
Bane has spent an unhealthy amount of time taming his nervous tics. He's as cool as can be at all times -- no lip biting, no finger tapping, no pattern to his toothpick gnawing. He is completely unreadable in the face of an adversary.
...in the face of two missing kids, however, he might as well be a neon billboard.
His leg joggles. He drums his fingertips together. He bats his toothpick between the corners of his mouth with his tongue.
He wishes you were here and not out burgling trade secrets from an arms manufacturer. You'd know what to do. You're much better with the whole 'kids will be kids' thing. You call it mother's intuition but as far as he's concerned, it's extrasensory.
Like when you let the kids walk to the corner store for the first time. They took a bit too long getting home and he was convinced they'd been kidnapped. Turns out there was construction and they had to take a detour.
Or when they stole his gun belt. He was furious, but you told him to cool it. Turns out they were getting a nicer one made and needed the sizing right.
Somehow, you're always right about these things. He could use that assurance.
Part of him is relieved it's both of them missing and not just the Little Lady. Cold, perhaps, but she's fifty kilos soaking wet and just as pretty as you are. An easy target for an unsavory type.
Bambi, on the other hand, is sixteen years old, already taller than his daddy, and built like an upside down tortilla chip. He’s more than capable of protecting his big sister.
They're probably fine. He knows this. And yet here he sits, bouncing his leg and tapping his fingers and chewing his toothpick.
Sometimes he wonders when he went so damn soft. Was it when you handed him his son, minutes old and still covered in blood and amniotic fluid? Was it when he first laid eyes on the Little Lady, small and sweet and unmistakably his?
No, it was when he gave you that head start on Nal Hutta, all those years ago. Just moments after he fell ass over teakettle for you.
A hard thunk from the balcony catches his attention. He jumps to his feet, hand hovering above his blaster.
He sneaks over to the door and silently slides it open. He steps out and into the shadows. The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon and there's still plenty of dark to conceal him.
A pale blue light grows brighter, accompanied by angry, slurred muttering. "...piece o' shit railin' an' boots an' fuck-all everythin' everywhere..."
The second voice is more enunciated. “Just shut up and try to stay even.”
A pair of thin hands grab the railing, and the Little Lady hauls herself atop the railing. She reaches downwards, but is rebuffed. Bambi tries to swing a gangly leg over the railing, only to get himself stuck. He taps at his wristcom to deactivate his boots, and the blue glow fades.
Bane watches him try to get over the railing. Slurred words, lack of coordination... The kid's drunk as an acid skunk.
The Little Lady tries to help, but Bambi shoos her away. “ ‘m fine. I can do it--”
“You’re gonna fall and break your neck is what you're gonna do,” she replies.
“ ‘m fine. S’all fine,” he slurs. He gets himself upright enough to straddle the railing. He lets out a dopey giggle. “Heh. Speeder. Nyoom...!”
He starts to tip and the Little Lady darts her hand out to snatch him by the back of the collar. "Shut up before Daddy hears you," she hisses.
And there's his cue. He tosses his toothpick away. "Li'l late fer dat," he says, stepping out of the shadows.
The Little Lady yips in surprise and whirls around. Bambi tries to reach for his blaster, but he's not wearing his holsters and he grabs air. He twists to find them and falls backwards over the balcony without a sound.
The Little Lady's hands fly to her mouth and her eyes go wide. "Oh shit."
Bane touches her shoulder to calm her. He tosses his chin at Bambi rising back over the balcony, a little rattled but no worse for wear.
"I knew it!" His hover is unsteady, and he struggles to keep himself upright. "Yer tryna flip-icide me!"
Bane raises a brow. He watches carefully as Bambi gets up and over the edge, landing in a heap of gangly limbs on the ground. Satisfied that the boy is safe, he turns his attention back to the Little Lady.
"Yer curfew's midnight," he says simply.
She bristles slightly. "It's not my fault!" she says. "He kept wandering off and I had to chase after him." The bristles fade as she crosses her arms. "He's completely zonked. He can barely walk."
Bambi makes a horrific retching noise, and the putrid smell of acid fills the air.
Bane's stomach churns, but he keeps his own dinner down. "Get one of de shitty towels and meet me in de downstairs 'fresher."
---
He feels a bit bad throwing Bambi into a cold shower fully clothed. But it'll wash him off and sober him up enough to function.
At least his whining is funny.
"Why do you hate me," Bambi grumbles, looking for all the galaxy like a kicked puppy.
Bane snickers to himself. "Suck it up."
"You suck it up." Bambi tries to grab a bar of soap -- your citrus-scented one, Bane notices -- only for it to shoot out of his grip. He grabs it again, only for the same thing to happen. He gives Bane a pathetic look. "Soap's broke."
Maker's sake. "Arms up, kid."
Bambi obeys and Bane lifts the shirt up and over his head. Tossing it into the laundry, he grabs the soap and gets to work.
He intends to manhandle the boy a bit. Treat him like everybody else he's had to clean up after a rowdy night out. Rough in his scrubbing and half-ass it enough to make it clear he'd done it begrudgingly.
But he doesn't.
A gentle touch comes unbidden, the same he used when Bambi was five years old and so sick with virid flu that he couldn't even keep water down. You had put him in the bathtub while you called a doctor, leaving Bane to mind him.
The poor kid was too exhausted to even cry. Just sit there and stare sadly at his little feet, eyes puffy from a lack of sleep, and occasionally retch up nothing.
Bane gave that boy the greatest bath of all time. Used the nicest soap, the softest washcloth, the warmest water. Bambi was dead asleep when the doctor finally showed up, bundled in a fluffy towel and smelling like a rose bush.
But Bambi isn't a baby anymore, and Bane knows this. He just cleans what he has to as gently as he can -- chest, neck, and chin.
Bambi doesn't say a word for a long time. Bane thinks it's out of embarrassment until he actually does speak.
"S'not my fault," he murmurs. "Only had two... But the secon' one wass... Had t’ve been spiked. Hit like a freighter."
"Gotta watch what ya drink, boy."
The retort comes in the form of a snore. Bane looks up to see Bambi's eyes closed and his jaw slack. His chest rises and falls in rhythm.
He can't help but chuckle. Switching off the shower, he leaves the boy to sleep it off.
---
Like you, the Little Lady eats when she's troubled. Also like you, she tends to go for cold cuts straight from the package. Today, it's the capicola.
He catches her mid chew, her eyes going wide as her jaw stops moving. A little spray of green dusts her cheeks, and she swallows. "So ya gonna rip me a new one, or...?"
"Don't see why I should." He peels a slice of the meat from the butcher paper and takes a bite. "Ain't yer fault yer brother got drugged."
She slumps. "It was meant for me," she says quietly. "The guy brought us two beers and I gave Bambi the one meant for me, just in case." She picks at the edge of the paper. "It wasn't right, I know, but the guy was greasy and I couldn't figure out a way to get rid of it and Bambi's got a hundred pounds on me--"
"Yer brother's smarter'n he looks," he says. "He probably knew and did it anyways 'cause he knew he could take it."
The Little Lady lets out a breath like she'd been holding it all night. "You think?"
He nods and eats another slice of capicola. "Ask him in de mornin'," he says. He levels a finger at her. "Regardless, ya owe him one."
She nods. "I know." She examines a slice of meat. "Are you gonna tell Momma?"
"What's it worth to ya?"
The Little Lady narrows her eyes. "You're seriously asking for hush money?"
He gives her a wry smile. "Doesn't have to be money. Could be time, could be a favor..."
"I already owe Bambi a favor," she grumbles. "And I don't like owin' too many people favors at de same time, so I got no choice. How much ya want?"
It always makes him laugh when he sees himself in her. The voice of an old crook, coming from the mouth of a young teenybopper. "Most I'll ask for is yer allowance," he says. "Somethin' like thirty creds?"
She curls her lip, but snatches her purse from its hook and roots through it. She finds the credits and plunks them down on the table. Shoving a piece of capicola into her mouth, she glowers half-heartedly at him as she chews.
He chuckles and pockets the money. "Pleasure doin' business, li'l lady."
"Up yer nose," she grumbles.
He decides to let that one slide.
---
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I love how Cad call Irno and his daughter “lil’ lady”, so I bet sometimes he would call one of them shouting “lil’lady” from where he is and both of them would come to see what he wants.
That happens SO MUCH. Making things worse is that the little Little Lady doesn't learn to respond to her given name until she's in preschool.
Eventually, Irno gets upgraded to "my dear ol' lady,” said in the most loving of tones. Even if she does chafe a bit at the 'old' part.
---
Far and away the best thing about having a child is the unbridled enthusiasm when he returns after a job. Your kisses are hot and sweet, but the light in the Little Lady’s eyes as he walks in is nothing short of wondrous.
She trots over to him on little legs and wraps herself around his shin, chirruping loudly. “Daddy!” she purrs.
“Evenin’, li’l lady.” He pries her off of his boot and lifts her into his arms, holding her close to his chest. She’s bigger than when he left. “Yer momma know yer up?”
“Yup!” You pop up from your lying position on the sofa, a broad smile on your face. “I said if she was good today, she could stay up to wait for you.”
The Little Lady nods. “I cleaned my room an’ helped with laundry an’ read all by myself an’ everythin’.”
You stand and walk over to him. “Like I said: very good.” You give her a little kiss on the head, and she lets out a chirp that turns into a continuous purr.
He gives her an approving nod before turning his attention to you. “How ‘bout you? How’s my l’il lady been?”
You open your mouth to respond, but your daughter cuts you off. She stiffens and stops purring. “I thought I was your li’l lady.”
He blinks at you and you blink back. He returns his attention back to her. “Y’are, girl. Yer momma is too.”
“But that’s my name,” she says.
“Your name is Mezerel, donnina,” you say. “It’s just a nickname.”
Her brows scrunch up and she puffs her cheeks out at Bane. “Then how come that’s the only thing you call me?!” she demands.
He’s about to deny it when he realizes she’s right. He can’t remember the last time he actually used her real name. Maybe the time he... No, he didn’t. But what about-- No, not then, either. She’s always been the Little Lady.
It’s not his fault. Some Zeltron superstition dictated that babies not be given proper names until their first birthday and he wasn’t going to call her ‘girl’ or ‘the baby’ the whole time.
He turns to you. “Dis is yer fault.”
You give him a cruel smile. “Excuse me?” you ask flatly. “You’re the one who calls every young woman ‘li’l lady.’”
The Little Lady doesn’t take that knowledge well. She lets out a hiss like a tea kettle and squirms out of his arms. On the floor, she crosses her arms and glares at him.
And here’s the worst thing about having a child: reasoning with a ridiculous being. He looks to you for help and you shake your head, still smiling.
---
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a scenario: the kids are very young and have been put to bed, and Cad and Irno have some alone time in their room. maybe one of the kids has a nightmare / cant sleep and walks in on them? (theyre covered ofc)
This was a fun one! Thanks!
The Bounty Hunter's Guide to: Homecoming
Summary: In which the Little Lady and her brother have impeccably poor timing.
Pairing: Cad Bane x F!Reader
Words: 1.6k
Rating: Semi-Explicit
Warnings: None!
Cad Bane has always lived for the chase. The thrill of putting a laser bolt between his quarry's eyes, the satisfaction of seeing the numbers in his account go up, and, occasionally, the sadistic glee of stabbing his employer in the back to make those numbers go even higher.
He used to feel empty when a job was over. But now he has something to look forward to, something to fill in the gaps.
Namely, his dear ol' lady and a pair of happy little accidents.
He lands silently on the balcony of the bedroom and peers inside. You're fast asleep -- on his side of the bed, he notices. He smiles to himself as he slides the door open and steps inside.
He pulls his boots and breathing apparatus off and hangs his hat on the bedpost before sneaking over to you. You sleep so peacefully. He's often envious.
He brushes your silky hair away from your ear. "Yer in my spot, missus," he rumbles.
You let out a peep. "Sorry," you say. You shimmy over to your side with no fuss.
Bane is a little disappointed. He was hoping for a happy squeak and a fat kiss and a frantic, lusty fuck.
Ah, whatever. Morning sex is better anyways.
He slips in beside you, sliding one arm under your neck and the other wrapping around your waist. He buries his face in your hair and breathes deeply. He missed your smell--
You jolt away from him, a surprised shriek escaping you as you whirl around. You stare at him wide-eyed with your hand on your chest.
"Hi," he says, giving a lazy wave.
You don't waste a second. You fling yourself on him and slam your mouth against his, immediately shoving your tongue between his lips.
"You -- scared -- the shit outta me," you say between kisses.
Your mouth is so hot and warm that his cock immediately springs to attention. "I missed ya too."
He rolls his hips against yours, making sure you feel his entire length. Every ridge, every throb, every last bit of him that was deprived of you.
"I was about to go crazy," you say. You sit up on your knees and ruck up the hem of your nightgown. "I was just so... So desperate!"
You're about to toss the garment over your head when there's a knock at the door. "Momma?" a little voice calls. "You okay?"
"Just fine, pumpkin!" You glance at the door, then back at him. "Should I let her know?" you whisper.
He shakes his head. "Fuck no. Yer mine tonight," he purrs. He wraps his arms around you and presses his face against your neck, inhaling deeply.
So feminine. So flowery. So familiar.
His tongue is out of his mouth before he even realizes it, sliding up the sinew of your neck to your earlobe. He's so used to your pearl studs that it's strange to see nothing adorning them.
You squeak again. You clap your hands over your mouth, but the damage is done.
"...are ya sure?" the Little Lady calls again.
You give him a mildly annoyed look. He shrugs and you roll your eyes. "Yes, honey. Go back to bed."
An even littler voice joins her. "What's goin'..." Bambi cuts himself off with a loud yawn. "What's goin' on?"
"Momma was makin' noise. I got worried, but she says she's fine."
"An' ya believed her?!" Bambi asks in alarm. "What if one o' them changelings got in or something?! It might not be her!"
You raise a brow at Bane. "I didn't tell him about that."
Bane thinks. It must have come up when he told them about breaking into the Jedi Temple... He sincerely hopes that it wasn't the origin of a deep-seated fear for the poor kid.
He rubs the bridge of his rostrum. Now he's definitely not getting any. "Mighta slipped out on my end," he murmurs.
"Bambi, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," the Little Lady says. "Let's go back to bed."
"But what if we're next?!" His teddy bantha squeaks as he, presumably, clutches it. "What if ya get up tomorrow an' I'm not me? Or you're not you?"
You let out a snrrk sound and Bane glances at you. You're biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing. It's a cute look.
The Little Lady is quiet for a few long seconds. "Well, alright," she says. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to check."
Old habits die hard and Bane jumps off of the bed to hide. But he pauses. This is his place. Those are his kids. What's he doing?
"We can't go in there! Momma and Daddy said to never go in without knocking," Bambi says.
That actually makes Bane snicker. Polite to a fault, that one.
He can practically hear the glare in the girl's voice. "Bambi, you're a moron," she says.
"Yer a moron!" he fires back.
You heave a massive sigh. "Guess we're having company," you mutter. You glance at him and toss your chin at his still hard cock. "Might wanna kill that."
Probably a good idea. As you climb out of bed, he lays back and thinks unsexy thoughts. Third-degree blaster wounds. A six-figure bar tab. Your mother in a bikini.
...Actually, that one's not so bad. But it's actively defeating the purpose of the exercise.
You open the door and dim light spills into the room along with the sound of bickering siblings. "Enough, you two," you say. "I'm not a changeling."
Bambi jumps in front of his sister, holding his teddy bantha like a shield. "Prove it. What's my... Um..." He glances at the Little Lady. "What's somethin' Momma knows?"
"I dunno. How her and Daddy met?"
You let out your chirpy laugh. "Nice try, kid. You're not getting that one until you're older. Try again."
The Little Lady slumps a bit, but purses her lips in thought. "What's Momma's pistol say? The one that Daddy gave her?"
And there's his cue. He hops to his feet and strolls over to the door. "'Anytime, any place, anywhere,'" he says, placing his hands on your waist. "Proposed to her with dat line."
Two little faces light up like Coruscant in the evening. "Daddy!"
They spring into his arms and he's just barely able to catch both of them. The Little Lady throws her arms around his neck and Bambi clings to his chest like a baby monkey lizard, both purring loudly.
You smile and put your hands on your hips. "Wish I got that kind of welcome when I get home," you say.
"You're never gone as long as he is," the Little Lady says.
She grabs his cheek and turns him towards her. She presses her rostrum against his hard enough that he feels the cartilage flex.
A fuzzy, golden warmth fills his chest, overflowing into his belly and seeping into his toes. Such a sweet girl.
Bambi is next, smooshing his rostrum into the hollow of Bane's cheek. "Missed you," he says quietly.
He basks in the warmth for a few moments. Such sweet little things came from him, he muses. Less than a day ago, he shot a man in the temple just because he got a little too close at the cantina bar.
The galaxy is such an ironic place, he thinks.
You clear your throat. "Where's my kiss?" you ask in mock offense.
"Ya already got one," he says.
"Yeah, one. You're getting two. Where's my second one?"
He chuckles. Carefully, he pries the little ones off of him and sets them on the ground. Placing his hands on your waist, he swings you into a dip and gives you a firm kiss.
It's a great kiss. Loving and warm and passionate.
Both of the kids make sounds of disgust. He pulls away to chide them, only for you brush your hand dismissively at the kids and pull him back in.
---
He wakes up to the light thump-thump of two small feet hitting the floor.
"I'll help," the Little Lady whispers.
He opens an eye to see her lifting her brother off of the bed and setting him on the ground. They tiptoe out the door, closing it behind him.
"Where're dey headed?" he asks.
You roll over to drape your arms around his chest. "Making us breakfast, I think," you murmur into the space between his shoulder blades. "So we've got at least ten minutes before they figure out they don't know how to make pancakes."
You hook your leg around his as your hand drifts down to his rumpled trousers. His cock twitches from the warmth alone, and he lets out a deep rumble.
"Careful, missus." He pushes up against your hand, letting you feel his hardness. "Might get me randy."
You wriggle upwards to whisper into his ear. "Is that a promise?"
You always know just what to say. He rolls over and on top of you, pinning you to the bed. You grin up at him.
"Ya really don't know what yer playin' with." He grabs his cock through his trousers, fondling it gently.
"Don't I?" you ask, batting your lashes. "A desperately horny man who hasn't seen his lovely woman in weeks?"
He licks his lips, letting out another rumble. "Get dat gown off 'fore I rip it off."
"Yes sir," you say. You try to sit up and move your arms, but he refuses to unpin you. "Cad, move."
"Nah." Grabbing the front of your gown, he yanks. The fabric tears easily, and he's left holding tatters. He dives in before you have the chance to object.
Home sweet home.
---
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A lil request if you’re so inclined:
The day Irno tells Cad he’s gonna be a daddy
Well, see, here's the thing: I can't write that because Irno is actually the last person to find out she's pregnant.
I will not elaborate. Yet.
---
Bane sits on the edge of your bed, tangling his fingers with each other. You've been in the 'fresher for a while now and it's hard not to be worried.
He wants to think your parents are mistaken. That the pheromones were coming off of some other girl and that someone else is in for a surprise later tonight.
But when he hugged you... You definitely smelled like they described. Sugar and spices.
The thought is, of course, revolting. He doesn't want to be a parent. He can't be. How could he be? He's the worst person he knows.
He couldn't raise a child. He doesn't know the first thing about children. Doesn't know how to take care of them or hold them or love them the way a father ought to.
It's for the best if he doesn't have children, he's always told himself. He'd inevitably screw them up even more than he's already screwed up.
...and yet...
No. No. He's not going to even entertain that thought. Not a single shred of it.
Especially since you won't want it either. You're young and have your whole life ahead of you. Sure, you coo over every child you see and most of your dirty talk involves you telling him to put a baby in you...
No. No. Stop. You won't want it. Especially not with him. Stop thinking about these things, he wills himself.
Stop thinking about an infant with big red eyes. Teaching it to walk. To talk. To shoot. To steal. To fly. Stop thinking about being the father who was never there for him. Stop thinking about what a loving, attentive mother you'd be.
Stop thinking about names. Stop thinking about tiny shoes. Stop thinking about programming a childcare routine for Todo.
Stop it stop it stop it--
The 'fresher door opens and you step out. He jumps to his feet, but you stare at the pieces of plastic in your trembling hands. Looks like you used all of them.
Bane stares at your face, trying to gauge your expression. Your brows are knit, your mouth is scrunched up, and your jaw clenches and unclenches.
He knows the answer immediately, but he still asks. "Well?"
You fan them out. All show a positive.
He didn't think it was possible to be both elated and horrified, but here he is. His heart in his mouth and his stomach in his shoes.
---
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Alright!! We've seen a bit of how Favara would react to the old man being gone. But how would Cad react if the missus went first?? Would he blame himself?? Accept it fast and all good? I NEED THE ANGST
why ya gotta make me hurt everyone, anon. fuckin sadist. >:|
⚠️ CONTENT WARNING: ⚠️ Terminal illness, suicide, murder.
---
Dementia was the diagnosis. Early onset. Likely hereditary.
It's not fair. He's older. Grizzled. Less careful with his head -- the plate alone is proof of that.
You're a wreck at first. But the days go on and you come to your decision.
He argues with you about it. There are doctors. Medications. Neither of you are hurting for money. He'll grease palms and call in favors and press pistols to heads. You'll get treatment.
But you refuse. You lost your uncle to this and it was horrific. Even the best care in the galaxy only delayed the inevitable. He went from a brilliant man to an ornery, scared, confused shell and it nearly wrenched your family apart.
You don't want that. And, eventually, he comes to agree.
Your whole body trembles as you slip your arms around him. He would think you were cold if it weren't for the fact that it was a beautiful day at the height of summer and the balcony gets plenty of sunshine.
Bane grips you tight. Like a life preserver in a flood. He never wants to let you go. He shouldn't let you go. As soon as he does, he loses you.
Forever.
He wishes he was a religious man. Wishes he could know for sure that you'd be walking with him. That you'd be waiting for him when he met his Maker. That he'd spend eternity burning with you.
But he's not. And he has to live with uncertainty.
He breathes you in one final time. Age made your flowers fade, and now you smell like smoky incense. Different, but still delicious. He wishes he could bottle it.
He doesn't know how long he holds you. A few seconds. A minute. An hour. However long it is, it's not long enough. But eventually you pull away.
His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to kiss them. But he knows if he does, he'll never let you go.
Instead, he lays his hand on your cheek. You nestle into his palm, touching his ragged knuckles with your soft fingers.
"I love you," you say softly.
Bane's throat is so swollen that it hurts. "I know," he croaks through clenched teeth.
He's about to snatch you close to him when you pull away. Tears well in your eyes as you take a deep breath, then turn away from him. You look down to set your pistol from stun.
And, in your moment of distraction, when your chin is pressed to your chest, Bane pulls his own blaster. He squeezes the trigger.
His target is the brainstem. Complete and total destruction. Quick and painless and you won't know what hit you.
He hits his mark. You're dead before you hit the ground.
Bane had made up his mind to take responsibility as soon as he realized he couldn't talk you out of your decision. He hardened his softened heart to spare you the fear, spare you the struggle of having to pull the trigger, spare you the damnation that some religions would condemn you to.
He closes your eyes and adjusts your hair to hide the wound. He carefully drapes you in the blanket you'd chosen, but he tries not to linger.
He fails.
Silky hair he'll never again brush his fingers through. Narrow eyes he'll never again see sparkle with greed. Gentle lips he'll never again make curl into a smile. Soft hands he'll never again hold in his own.
He takes a deep, shuddery breath and staggers to his feet. His eyes sting. His cheeks are hot. He feels like he's breathing through a straw, his breaths shallow and wheezing.
A pretty voice he'll never again hear call his name. A clever mind he'll never again mine for ideas. A dark heart he'll never again make flutter with his tales of gunslinging.
Stop it, he commands himself. He's killed hundreds. He's got enough blood on his hands to fill an ocean. One more isn't anything special.
His heartbeat gallops in his ears. His knees shake, and he fights to keep himself upright. He touches the wall for balance, and he realizes how heavily his hands tremble.
Somewhere deep in his mind, he knows why he feels like this and he refuses to acknowledge it. To acknowledge it would be to face the reality of it.
His left knee gives out before the right one -- it's been giving him trouble lately -- and he leans heavily against the wall.
His ribs hurt. His throat hurts. His lower lip hurts and he realizes he's biting it and that something wet is rolling down his chin and he thinks it's blood but when he wipes it away there's no green on his hand.
He ignores it. He pushes himself off of the wall and limps inside. He has calls to make.
---
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Irno praising Vincenzo and calling him all kind of cute things like “good boy”, but Cad overhears and he thinks she’s actually talking too him and when he finally realizes, he gets jealous because he likes the praise (and because sometimes Cad wants to be Irno’s good boy too)
this is a very very good prompt thank u
He's fixing drinks when he hears something fall off the table. Doesn't sound like anything broke, so he ignores it.
You giggle sweetly. "Aw, does someone want attention?"
...well, now that you mention it, you've been occupied all day. Loathe as he is to admit it, it's got him feeling a bit lonely.
But he'll be damned if he ever says that aloud. So he busies himself with his cocktail mixing and ignores you. You like one part gin to three parts tonic. He thought it was weak until he stole a sip when you weren't looking -- it was like fizzy battery acid.
"Yes, you want attention, don't you?" you coo. “Don’t be stubborn. I know you do. You love it.”
He really hates it when you read his mind. So he continues ignoring you and pours himself some more whiskey. You can wait another thirty seconds.
"You're such a good boy," you say. "My favorite boy in the whole wide galaxy. The mighty hunter. The best."
That gives him pause. He is many things and good is not one of them. Nor is he a boy. Not anymore, anyways.
...but it does feel nice, knowing you think of him that way. He's been putting in effort to be good to you and he's glad you noticed. Makes his chest fuzzy and his cheeks warm. But that's mostly the drink in his belly.
He glances over a shoulder to make a sly remark, only to pause.
Vince is perched on the table, butting his head against your face. You stroke his back and rub his ears, a smile on your face.
"Yes, you're Mama's good boy," you say in a high-pitched voice. "Even if you do push coasters off of the table. She loves you all the same."
Embarrassment pools in Bane's stomach and quickly turns to impudent anger.
He wants attention too.
He pushes the gin and tonic off of the counter. The glass shatters on the ground, making both you and Vince flinch. The cat scampers off while you raise a brow at him.
Bane just smirks.
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Been watching a lot of Psych lately.
---
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Hondo would be that kind of mfer who would show up to Cad and Irno’s wedding despite being explicitly not invited.
So fun fact about Zeltron weddings: you don't actually need an invite to go to one. It's like a big block party! Complete strangers show up, wish the happy couple well, and get fucked up at the bar. It's a beautiful thing.
So it's not really crashing a wedding if there's no cultural concept of wedding crashing.
---
Cad Bane is a very... actually, he's a pretty happy man right now. Kind of impressive, considering the week he's had.
It's mostly because he's almost too drunk to stand. Zeltron liquor packs a punch and people have been sliding him shots all night: your brothers and your in-laws and your cousins and your neighbors and complete strangers that have shown up because Zeltron weddings are apparently a free-for-all...
But it's not every day he gets married. Why not cut loose a bit? You're off doing the same thing, probably.
...Where are you, anyways?
He scans the crowd for you, but the things he usually identifies you by are useless right now. Everyone here is pink, you're not in your usual attire, and he's seeing double.
...well, not everyone is pink. There are some Humans, a few Twi'leks, he thinks he saw Harch a few minutes ago, and a Weequay with a stupid hat...
He gets a stabbing pain right behind his eyes, and he knows it's not the liquor.
Hondo Ohnaka is drunk enough to slur a single word. "Cad!" he warbles. "Small galaxy!"
Ohnaka goes to embrace him, and, for the first time in forever, Bane lets him. He's in a good mood and he refuses to let Ohnaka ruin it.
"Hondo," he says. "Hell're ya doin' here?"
"Same thing as you! Party hopping!" He leans in conspiratorially. "The wedding bars are cheaper than regular ones!"
"Wouldn't know." A Zeltron shoves a drink into Bane's hand and says something that sounds like 'salute ya.' He considers tossing it back like the rest, but he hands it to Ohnaka. "Here."
Ohnaka grins and tosses it back. Over his shoulder, through a part in the crowd, Bane sees little Anthunia, her brow knit up in confusion. She spots him and trots right for him.
Anthunia crawls right between Ohnaka's legs. The pirate nearly trips over himself to get away as she pops up.
"I can't find my mama," she says loudly at Bane.
And here's his out.
"Probably with yer Auntie Irno," he says. "Go find 'er."
Ohnaka's brows shoot up as he hears your name. He lowers one as he peers at Bane.
Bane just shrugs. "Who's weddin' do ya think dis is?"
Both brows shoot up again, and then a grin splits Ohnaka's face. "You dog," he chuckles, shaking a finger. "One last fling before she's gone forever? Or are you the backdoor man?"
Bane wrinkles his rostrum. "Not in front of de kid," he says to Ohnaka. "Why don't ya go find de bride? Steal one last dance off 'er."
Ohnaka's grin grows wide and lecherous. Had he more faith in his coordination, Bane would have smacked him, but as it stands, he's barely standing.
He turns back to Athunia. "Bring dis guy to see yer aunt," he says. "He's an ol' friend."
Athunia appraises the pirate, her little hair puffs bouncing as she looks him up and down. But he meets whatever criteria she had, so she grabs his hand and drags him off into the crowd.
Bane waves him off. She'll be fine. She's a tough little cookie -- if she's not afraid of him, she definitely won't be afraid of Hondo.
Another shot gets shoved into his hand. He drinks this one, praying that it tastes a little bit better than the rest.
It does not. It still tastes like battery acid and it burns going down, adding to the uncreasingly inpleasant burn in his belly.
...unpleasantly increasant. Increasantly unpleasing. Increasing unpleasant--
A short, surprised shriek splits the air. Your shriek. If he sits up straight, he can see you staring wide-eyed at Ohnaka, hands over your mouth. Your mother, standing behind you, looks as confused as you are shocked.
And just like that, Ohnaka is officially not his problem anymore.
Bane throws back the rest of the shot and waves the bartender over for a chaser.
---
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As we've seen before, the Little Lady likes to do makeup on Todo, so I bet she loves doing makeup on Bambi too (even against his will). And when he goes to complain to his parents, none of them are able to punish her. Because Irno thinks Bambi looks adorable in makeup and Cad finds the situation hilarious.
The Bounty Hunter's Guide to: Makeup
Summary: In which the Little Lady gets a little creative, and Bambi gets shanghai'd into it.
Pairing: Cad Bane x F!Reader
Rating: General.
Word Count: ~1.8k
Warnings: None!
---
The sound of Duros younglings fighting is a very distinct one: lots of spitting and hissing. It sounds a bit like a broken speaker, especially when the ‘fresher bathtub amplifies everything.
Fortunately, they're very easy to break up. Just wait a moment and...
Bane reaches into the scuffle and snatches both kids by the tops of their heads, lifting them up off of the floor. Little spitfires that they are, they both keep swinging and it takes a sharp whistle for them to stop.
"De hell is goin' on?" he asks.
Bambi points at his sister. "She hit me!"
"'Cause ya said I made ya look dumb!" the girl fires back.
They start thrashing at each other again. This time Bane hisses, showing his fangs at both of them. The Little Lady's eyes go wide and she shrinks into her shoulders, and Bambi lets out a submissive chirp.
He feels bad scaring them like that, but sometimes it's the only thing he can do. "Ya gonna start fightin' again?" They shake their heads. He sets both of them down on the floor. He turns to the Little Lady. "Tell me what happened."
She takes a deep breath. "I was playin' with Momma's makeup but my face was gettin' sore so I asked Bambi if I could put it on him an' he said yeah but he got mad when I finished an' said he looked dumb!"
"And dat's when ya hit him?" She nods, and he sighs.
He turns to Bambi to get his side of the story, but before he can say anything, Bane realizes that Bambi... doesn't look right. Red stuff smeared across his thin lips, pink powder covering his cheeks and rostrum, and a pair of dark, uneven lines drawn on the peaks of his brows.
...Yeah, that looks pretty dumb.
He claps his hand over his mouth before his honk of a laugh can escape, but it's too late. Bambi's face scrunches up in resignation and the Little Lady stamps her foot.
"It's not funny!" they both squeak.
They’re right. It's hilarious.
Fortunately, you enter before he can actually lose his shit. You quirk you brow at him, and he jabs his thumb at Bambi. Your hands immediately go to your mouth.
“Bambino mio!” you coo. You drop to your knees and pull the boy into your arms. “Oh, you are the cutest little thing!”
Bambi hisses half-heartedly, but doesn’t struggle to get away. He slumps into your embrace and quietly glares at his sister, who now looks immensely proud of herself.
“Don’t think yer off de hook, li’l lady,” he scolds. “Ya still hit yer brother.”
She slumps, and you raise your eyebrows. “Is that what this is about?” He nods, and you frown at her. “Seriously?” you ask dryly.
“But he said--!”
“I don’t care what he said,” you say. “You don’t hit people. You know better.”
Bane leans against the doorjamb. “How’d ya like it if I smacked you around when I was mad?”
She huffs. “Momma’d kick yer butt if ya did...” she mutters.
He has to bite back a chuckle at that. There is absolutely no doubt in his mind that you’d beat the blue off of him if he laid a finger on either of them. “Ain’t de question, missy.”
She blinks, then slumps. “I wouldn’t like it.”
“You’d be scared of me, wouldn’t ya?” She nods. “Ya want yer baby brother to be scared of ya?” She shakes her head, and he gestures at her. “So what’cha gonna do?”
The Little Lady fiddles with the hem of her dress. “‘M’sorry,” she mumbles.
“Ya didn’t hit me.”
She huffs again, but turns to Bambi. She gently taps his shoulder, and peers at her. “Sorry I hit you,” she says.
Bambi glances at you, and you release him. “S’okay. I said somethin’ mean,” he says. Gently, he bops her on the shoulder. “We’re even.”
The Little Lady smiles, and the tension in the air dissipates. She bops him back, and they start a little play fight, flailing their hands at each other as they giggle.
You separate them before it escalates into another actual fight. “Alright, enough,” you say as you stand. You point at the Little Lady. “You’re still getting punished, though.”
Bane nods. “Todo’s chassis could use some polishin’.”
You nod. “Sound fair, Donnina?”
“I guess,” she mumbles. “...could I do it now to get it over with?”
Bane glances at you, and you nod. He nods back. “I’ll show ya where de rags are. Go grab ‘im an’ bring ‘im outside.”
She slinks off, slipping past Bane. Bambi rubs at his eyes, trying to get the makeup off. “I hate this,” he mutters. You whisper something into his ear, and his brows furrow. “Wait, really?”
You nod sagely. “I know.” You lift him up onto the edge of the ‘fresher sink. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He’s about to ask what you told him when he hears Todo’s whirring. He leaves you to your cleaning, but not before committing the boy’s look to his long-term memory.
---
He promised himself he wasn’t going to “groom” the kids into bounty hunters. It’s a tough life and they deserve better, despite how good your genes and his might match up and create the perfect criminal.
But he can’t help but treat even simple play as training sometimes. Like tossing a plastic ball back and forth. Exactly like throwing grenades, albeit with less chance of losing a finger or two.
“Don’t toss it so high,” he instructs. “Throw it at me in a straight line, right fer my chest.”
Bambi nods. He pitches the ball, an overhand toss that he doesn’t follow through on. It goes to the left and hits the ground, and Bane snatches it up before it can roll off of the balcony.
“Accuracy, kid. Not distance.” He throws the ball at Bambi’s chest -- difficult when the boy is barely a meter tall, but he’s hit smaller targets with smaller projectiles.
Bambi catches the ball easily, but he huffs. “How can ya throw it so straight?” he asks.
“Follow through.” Bambi cocks his head. Bane thinks for a moment. “Ya know how shockballers lift a leg off de ground when dey throw?” Bambi nods. “Dat’s follow through.”
Bambi nods. He winds up the throw and gives it a toss. Better distance, but it still goes to the left and he lifts his leg too high. His foot slips out from underneath him and he lands on his face with a squeak. He pops right back up, though. “I’m okay!”
Bane snickers as he picks up the ball. “Good. Yer momma’d never let me hear de end of it if ya weren’t.” He tosses the ball back to Bambi. “Don’t lean into it so much dis time.”
The boy nods and winds up. The sound of the front door opening catches Bane’s attention, and he turns to look.
Plastic hits metal. Pain explodes in his head and a burst of red blinds him for a moment. His thighs give out and he collapses to the ground, spitting curses.
It’s only a few moments, fortunately. His vision returns, replaced by Bambi’s worried little face.
“I’m so sorry,” he sputters. “I didn’t mean to hit yer head. I was aimin’ at yer chest but--”
Bane waves his hand, partly out of dismissal and partly out of annoyance. He clambers to his feet, using the railing for support. He takes a moment to catch his breath, to try and dull the throbbing in his head.
Bambi watches with his big ol’ eyes, brow knit up in worry. “You okay...?”
Bane nods. He squeezes his eyes shut. Inhale, hold for three, then exhale.
A few cycles of that and the pain ebbs away. He becomes aware of a weight on his leg and peers down to see Bambi hugging his waist. He places his palm on the crown of the boy’s head. He peers up at him, still worried, but it quickly turns to relief.
“Sorry, Daddy,” he murmurs.
“No harm done, kid,” Bane replies. “‘S’enough fer today.”
Bambi nods and picks up the ball, placing it into the basket of toys before opening the door back inside. He follows behind as Bane enters.
And he immediately regrets his decision.
A small cloud of girls is swarming around you as you sit on the sofa with your makeup box, including the Little Lady. You point at her. “You, grab some towels, cotton balls, and cold cream from the ‘fresher.” She trots off down the hall, and you point at a purple Togruta -- Sida, he thinks her name is. “You, move that lamp over here so we have some better light. Everyone else, cop a seat.”
It’s cute seeing you all authoritative, but Bane cocks a brow. “You one o’ dem makeup ladies now?”
You look up at him and blink. “Oh, I didn’t know you were here!” you chirp. “Say hi, girls.” A small chorus of ‘hi, Mr. Hud’ echoes through the living room. “Mez told everyone I was gonna give her a makeup lesson and she brought a few friends. And those friends brought a friend. And, uh, here we are.”
“Shoulda charged admission,” he says, crossing his arms.
Bambi pokes his head out from behind Bane, only to immediately withdraw.
The girls giggle, and you smile. “And little Winnie is going to be my handsome assistant,” you say.
The boy sticks his head back out, eyes wide. “Huh?”
You wink at him and wave him over. Cautiously, he steps out from behind his cover and makes his way over to the sofa. You lift him up to sit beside you.
A few of the girls coo. “Aw, he’s so sweet,” one of them says.
“I know! I just wanna smooch him.”
The sudden realization that he’s going to be the center of all these girls’ attention for the next few hours hits Bambi. His nervous look melts into a smitten smile, his eyes drooping half-shut.
Bane can’t help but chuckle. That boy’s gonna break every heart on the block.
He considers watching the lesson just to have an excuse to stare at you, but the throb in his head is starting to return. “Be layin’ down if ya need me,” he says.
He makes his way to the hall and nearly trips on the Little Lady as she comes hustling out of the ‘fresher, but she dodges him and slips under his arms.
He leaves the bedroom door open just a crack, and he drifts off to the sound of your chirpy voice.
---
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Idea: How would Cad react to Hondo being introduced to The Little Lady, and Hondo immediately claiming her as his goddaughter/niece/future apprentice?
oh my god this is genius
The Bounty Hunter's Guide to: Job Training
Summary: In which the Little Lady bags a little bounty -- with some help, of course.
Pairing: Cad Bane x F!Reader
Words: ~3.1k
Rating: General
Warnings: Mild child endangerment.
---
"Are you sure about this?" you ask.
Bane sits on the edge of the bed, pulling his boots on. "Positive," he says. "Just want her to get a taste of it. See if she can really shoot. If she doesn't like it, den she goes back to appreciatin' her regular life."
You sit up and kiss his cheekbone. "Come back in one piece. Both of you."
He smiles to himself as you lay back down. It's nice to be worried about. He finishes lacing his boots up. "Always do, missus."
You pull the blankets up to your chin and let out a loud yawn. "Just get out of here before I change my mind and drag you back to bed."
He chuckles and stands. "Don't threaten me with a good time."
You poke a hand out to flap your fingers at him. He takes the hint.
He walks into the hallway. Todo hovers outside of the Little Lady's bedroom, clutching something in his fingers. He sees Bane and putters over.
"I tried to wake Miss Mezerel, but she refuses to get up," he says nervously. He holds up one of the Little Lady's shoes. "She threw this at me!"
The jogan really doesn't fall far from the tree. "Go get de speeder warmed up. I'll take care o' her."
"Yes sir." He hands Bane the shoe and putters off.
He enters the room and almost immediately steps on the other shoe. He gently kicks it to the side.
The Little Lady is cocooned tightly in her blankets. He'll never understand how she manages to sleep fully beneath the covers without the stale air getting to her.
He gives what he thinks is her shoulder a gentle poke. "Wake up, li'l lady," he says softly.
She lets out a sleepy trill and pokes her head out, red eyes blinking in the dark. And then a second head pokes out of her side, its red eyes also bleary.
He jumps, but once the shock wears off, he can't help but chuckle to himself. "Boy, what're you doin'?"
Bambi yawns loudly. "I was sleepin'," he says, "an' then ya woke me up."
"Yer supposed to be in yer room," Bane says.
Bambi casts his eyes downwards, but the Little Lady speaks up for him. "He got lonely," she murmurs. "Can I have five more minutes?"
Her eyes drift back closed, and he gives her rostrum a tap. "If ya wanna come, ya gotta get up."
She huffs, but does sit up. She wriggles out of her cocoon like a drowsy moth and stumbles over to the dresser, nearly tripping on toys at least twice.
He chuckles to himself again, then scoops Bambi up. "Let's give her some privacy."
Bambi doesn't say a word, just wraps his arms around his father's neck and buries his face in his shoulder. He lets out a little trill as he settles in.
Bane steps into the hallway. He stands there a moment in the darkness, feeling his son breathe, his thin chest rising and falling. His frame is so narrow now, with his baby fat almost gone. Muscle has yet to replace it.
He smiles a bit, thinking about what a little marshmallow the boy used to be. Chubby little arms with fat wrists and little jogan cheeks that dimpled when he smiled.
How time flies.
He considers putting the boy back in his own room, but has a better idea. He opens the door to the master bedroom and steps inside.
Carefully, he peels back the corner of the blanket, revealing your sleeping face. You don't stir as he slips Bambi inside and tucks the fabric up to the boy's chin.
He steps away into the darkness. Moments later, he hears a string of slurred, high-pitched Zeltrian and a surprised trill. Satisfied, he closes the door and heads for the kitchen.
Breakfast is toast and scrambled eggs. Neutral in acidity, high in protein, and high in carbs, but easy on the stomach.
He's finished his own when the Little Lady trots down the stairs. It's odd seeing her in a simple shirt and pants instead of the loud dresses you usually put her in. But he always insists on neutral clothing -- less to snag on, less to fuss over, less chance of her getting snatched up by a man with ill intent.
"Eat up, girl," he says, pouring himself a cup of caf. "We'll head out when yer finished."
---
It's about as simple of a job as it could possibly get, and he was lucky to spot the listing when he did. Some nobody smuggler on the next planet over that's been undercutting a Hutt grunts' operation. Simply find, shoot, and bring to the middleman alive so they can teach them a lesson.
Perfect for a beginner.
"As soon as you see them, pull de trigger," he says, handing her a blaster. "It's already on stun. Drop 'em like a sack o' flour."
"What if I miss?" she asks. "Or it doesn't work?"
"You won't miss," he says, "and it'll work. Trust yer ol' man and trust yer instruments."
She gives him a cautious look. "It's a gun, Daddy. Not an instrument."
He chuckles to himself. "Just means don't hesitate. And one more word of advice." He places his finger on his lips. "Keep yer mouth shut. Don't let anyone get you talkin'. You'll get distracted."
It's the truth, but the real reason is that she's just too damn cute. Trying to sound intimidating will only make her even more adorable.
---
Warehouse security is non-existent. They walk right through the front door and split up after entering.
And by 'split up,' he means he tails her at a distance. Far enough away that she thinks she's on her own, but close enough that he can swoop in if a Battle Droid shows up.
...Not that a Battle Droid will show up, but now he's irrationally worried. He hasn't discussed fighting droids at all with her. He adds that to the top of the lessons list.
But she seems to be doing okay so far. Walking on her toes, hand on her blaster, scanning and listening carefully before rounding any corners. If anything, she'd make a decent scout. Or a burglar, which she probably gets from you. You oughta take her prowling sometime.
Bane hears the movement before she does. Muffled footsteps and the soft swish of moving cloth, coming right towards them.
He withdraws into a shadow before she doubles back. She climbs up onto a crate to literally get the drop on whoever is coming. Unwise and risky. He docks a few points for that. What she should have done is waited for them to pass and then got them in the back...
She hits the ground lightly, and he hears the click of her blaster.
And then he hears a laugh he could have gone the rest of his life without hearing again.
There's no fucking way. He sticks his head out to confirm. Hat, species, stature...
That's Hondo Ohnaka, all right.
Maker damn it all.
Ohnaka looks utterly nonplussed. "Careful where you point that, youngling. You might hurt yourself."
He's about to step in when the Little Lady replies. "Make this easy for both of us and come quietly, smuggler."
Just as Bane feared, Ohnaka throws back his head and laughs. "Ah, what is the galaxy coming to? Adorable little children threatening me." He crosses his arms. "Tell me, girl, what's your name?"
"None of your business," the Little Lady says.
Bane sneaks a big closer. Better angle to shoot Ohnaka in the face if he has to.
The pirate has changed a lot in the decade since he last saw him. His coat is gone, and he's less bejeweled. He's let the tendrils on his chin grow longer as well. Must have fallen on hard times. Same stupid hat, though.
Ohnaka shifts his weight to his back foot. "Well, Miss None-Of-Your-Business, Hondo is in a hurry. Step aside."
The Little Lady stands her ground, even taking a step closer. Her aim doesn't waver for a second.
Ohnaka stares at her a moment, then laughs again. "Such spunk! If you were a little taller, I might actually be afraid."
He walks around and past her. The Little Lady blinks at him, then chases after him. "Where are you going?!" she says, flustered. "I told you to--"
Ohnaka whirls on her. "Listen, youngling," he says, voice low. "I am in a good mood. Do not test me. Turn around and walk away."
She recoils slightly. Her gaze flits around, likely looking for Bane. "N-No," she stammers. "I'm a bounty hunter and you're my bounty. I'll shoot you. I mean it."
Something like anger flashes across the pirate's face. But it vanishes, replaced with a contemplative look. He strokes his chin. "Awful short for a bounty hunter," he mutters to himself. He returns to his normal voice. "I have a proposal, youngling."
Just shoot him, he wills the girl. He'd do it himself, but he doesn't have a good angle...
She keeps the blaster on him. "If you're gonna try to bribe me--"
"Bribe you? Never! A girl with such conviction would never fall for such a thing," he says. "I am in need of a... Diminutive personage. Hondo is tall, ship maintenance shafts are small, and his joints are not as well-oiled as they used to be. Why not be my cabin girl, hm? Join the crew of the legendary Hondo Ohnaka!"
The Little Lady lowers her pistol, looking somewhat intrigued.
Bane is reasonably certain that you'd never let him hear the end of it if your daughter joined a pirate crew. Time to stop this.
He clicks the safety off of his LL-30 as he steps out of the shadow. "Dat's enough."
The Little Lady jumps out of her skin, but Ohnaka's face lights up like a carnival when he realizes who he's looking at.
"Well, blast me to Corellia!" he chortles. "Cad, my old friend!"
He tries to hug Bane. Bane levels his LL-30 at Ohnaka's gut. "Touch me and I plug ya."
Ohnaka just scoffs. "Glad to see nothing has changed," he says. "Tell me, what are you doing here?"
"Wanted somethin' easy," he says. "Lookin' fer a two-bit smuggler. Guessin' dat's you."
It's subtle, but Ohnaka flinches slightly. "We all fall on hard times now and again," he says. "But Hondo is on the up and up!"
Bane lets out a low, rumbling chuckle. "Not if I got anythin' to say about it."
That seems to put the fear of the Maker back into the Weequay. He pales a bit, but keeps his nonchalance as he stands aside. "Well, you'll have to compete with the youngling for it. Go on. Have it out."
"She's with me," he says.
Ohnaka breaks into a broad grin. He's even more nervous now. "I always knew you had a soft side. Let me guess, a street child you took a liking to? No, no..." He thinks a moment, then snaps his fingers. "Ah! Long-lost relative died and you're her remaining living family? Or perhaps--"
And here comes the migraine. "She's my kid," he says. He hopes the shock of the statement will shut Ohnaka up.
And it works, for a moment. His jaw clicks shut and his eyes widen, but soon he's chatting again. "That Zeltron girl with the nice--?"
It's been so long since Bane has seen Ohnaka sober that he's forgotten how fast the pirate can move when he wants to. He closes the gap between the two of them in moments to grab Bane's shoulders.
"And you didn't tell me?!" He actually sounds offended.
Don't engage. Don't engage. He engages. "Why would I tell you anything?"
"Because I'm your friend!" he says. He releases Bane to pace around. "And I'm the reason you two got together, after all! That practically makes me the girl's godfather!"
The Little Lady tips her head. "You know Momma?" she asks.
Ohnaka laughs. "I do! Very well." The laugh turns... wistful. "Very, very well. If your father hadn't come along, I'd have stolen her for myself."
Bane literally bites his tongue and resists the urge to put a few holes in the Weequay's torso. Even a decade later, that's still a sore spot for him, but it's not worth losing the money.
Ohnaka squats down in front of the Little Lady. "Ah, you look just like her, too. Don't know how I didn't see it before. Let's try this again." He straightens up into a bow. "Hondo Ohnaka, my dear."
Despite not wearing a dress, the Little Lady crosses one leg behind the other and dips. You just have taught her that. "I'm Mezerel. Nice to meet'cha."
"The pleasure is all mine!" Without warning, he scoops her up into his arm. She squeals and giggles as he spins her around, her previous aggression forgotten.
Bane sighs inwardly. He should have just shot him. But, as per usual, just being within a meter of Hondo Ohnaka actively makes him stupider.
"Alright, enough." Ohnaka stops spinning the girl, though he keeps her in his arms. "Drop her."
"Oh, I don't think so. I think I may keep her for myself." The pistol is out before Bane even registers it, pointed right at the Little Lady's head. The poor girl goes stiff. "You let me go on my way or I put a hole in your little girl," he says, voice no less bright.
Bane grinds his teeth, trying to ignore the rage blooming in his chest. He should have seen that coming. It's just so hard to tell when Ohnaka is bluffing. That's why he never played sabacc with him after the first time.
"Ya really wanna piss me off like dat?" he asks. "Her mother would rip ya apart, too."
The Little Lady starts to speak, but he cuts her off. "Daddy--"
"Mez, shut up," he says. He feels bad being so harsh, but it's a necessary evil. "Drop her, Ohnaka."
Ohnaka does not. He starts to step back. "Here's what we'll do," he says. "I walk to my ship. Once it is ready for takeoff, I release little Mezerel. Unless you want to see her cold and lifeless?"
He does not want that. He cannot express in mere words how much he does not want that. But the credits--
He's mentally preparing himself to give up the reward when the whir of a stun round echoes through the warehouse. Ohnaka blinks a few times, then slowly falls forward. He hits the ground with a thump.
Bane pokes him with his boot before letting out a sigh of relief. "Nice timin', kid."
The Little Lady wriggles out from underneath Ohnaka, her rostrum scrunched. "He's weird."
He huffs a laugh. Good judge of character. "I don't like him either." He clips the binders on the pirate's wrists and heaves him up onto his shoulders. “Let’s go.”
---
Ohnaka is still out cold when he tosses him at the client's feet. He gets paid a nice stack of credits -- not massive, but fair.
He had the Little Lady wait in the speeder. She looks up as he climbs into the driver's seat, and her brow wrinkles as he places some of the credits in her lap. "What's this?"
"Yer cut," he says.
She counts them quickly, then compares it to his stack. "This isn't half. Where's the rest?"
He chuckles as he slips his creds into his wallet. "Seventy-thirty split, li'l lady. I told ya dat."
"I thought it was like a bowling term or somethin', not actual math," she grumbles. "I want hazard pay. He almost shot me."
"Ya negotiate dese things before de job," he says.
He goes to give her a little pat on the head, but she flinches away. He frowns. That's not like her at all.
"Y'alright?" he asks.
She avoids his gaze, preferring to stare at her boots. "... why didn't ya shoot him?" she asks quietly.
He has no idea how to answer that. The honest answer will just upset her, but he doesn't want to lie to his girl.
He takes a deep breath. "Sometimes, ya gotta make tough decisions," he says. He starts the speeder, and the engine purrs to life.
She finally looks at him, red eyes burning into him. "Answer the question, Daddy."
He drums his fingers on the steering yoke, trying to think of a diplomatic way to put it... Or he could deflect. "He wasn't gonna shoot ya. He was bluffin'."
"That's not the question."
Maker on high, she sounds so much like you. "No," he says finally. "I trusted ya'd come through. I trusted my instrument."
The poor girl's face falls and it falls hard. She looks away from him, back to her little boots. "Is that what I am?" she murmurs. "I thought ya liked me."
"I do. I like ya a lot." He reaches his hand over to take hers. It's still so little compared to his. "But de job's over," he says gently. "An' yer back to bein' my li'l lady."
After a moment, her little fingers curl around his. She lets out a sigh. "Okay."
He squeezes her hand before letting go, returning it to the steering yoke. "You want anythin' from anywhere?"
She shakes her head. "I just wanna go home," she says.
That's really unlike her. But he doesn't push it. "If ya think of anything, speak up."
"Mmhmm."
---
The sun is just starting to go down when he lands gingerly on the balcony, careful not to disturb the sleeping girl in his arms.
You open the sliding door for them. Bambi is at your feet, peering around your dress. He breaks into a smile and tries to run to him, but you hold the boy back.
"She alright?" you ask Bane.
"Dozed off as we were gettin' into orbit," he says. He gives Bambi a nod. "Evenin', boy."
You smile warmly. "It's the engine noise. Puts her right to sleep." You kiss the crown of her head. "Sweet dreams, sweet girl."
Bane tramps up the stairs and to her room. He sits on the bed and pulls her boots off before peeling back the blankets and slipping her inside.
The Little Lady chirps as she stirs, opening her bleary eyes. "Are we home?" she asks.
He nods. He lifts his hat off and rests it on his knee. "Ya did good today." He gently touches her cheek. She has his cheekbones, sharp and shapely. "I'll make sure ya don't get grabbed next time. Teach ya how to get out of a hold."
She nods, then lets out a loud yawn. Pulling the blankets up and over her head, she rolls over and curls in on herself. A perfect little cocoon.
"Sleep tight, missy," he murmurs. She gives a response, but it's so muffled he can't understand a word of it.
He stands and walks to her door, leaving her to get her beauty sleep.
But, as he walks out the door, he can't resist one last glance at her.
---
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#cad bane x reader#cad bane x oc#cad bane#dad bane#hondo ohnaka#catch us if you can#99 problems#irno favara#reader insert#x reader#x oc#star wars#star wars oc#mezerel bane#winrel bane#emberly writes#thanks for the ask!
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I love Irno's relationship with Vincenzo and I like to think that even though Vincenzo and Cad have a mutual respect, sometimes Cad will mess with Irno. He'll be biting her, but he's not really hurting her, Irno will be laughing and they are having a good time. But at some point she's going to say “Cad, stop!” because he is tickling her, but Vincenzo is going to be like “MISTRESS IS IN DANGER!!!!” and he's going to jump on Cad and defend his Mistress.
I go hard in this house.
99 Problems: Entry #82 (Cad Bane x F!Reader)
Summary: You are Irno Favara. Sometimes you like to play hard to get.
Pairing: Cad Bane x F!Reader
Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶
Word Count: ~3.4k
Warnings: Dildos, chasing, rough sex, anal sex, mild animal misuse, pegging, cuddles
<;<< | masterlist | >>>
---
DRIVE R//: User > Irno > Desktop > Vacay Pics (send to Ludo) > Zeltron > Pola > Hot Guys > Dossiers > Cad.hpd
THINGS I KNOW ABOUT CAD BANE
#82: he likes vince??? i think??? sometimes he does and sometimes i worry he’s going to test out whether or not there really is more than one way to skin a cat.
---
You are Irno Favara. And right now, you are standing over a pot of boiling water. Not for soup, not for tea, but for the sterilization of a dildo. You really should have done this a few days ago, but you’ve never been too good at scheduling.
You lower the silicone member into the pot. Time to get some long-overdue cleaning done... Or you could read the latest Pink Pirates installment. The author dropped a surprise release and you've been chomping at the bit to read it.
You try to bribe yourself. Get the galley clean and then read. And, to your credit, you get a counter washed down. But you sit for a moment to download the book and... accept that you are a weak-willed woman and get comfy.
You've just begun chapter three -- Artemisia and Cachi's escape pod is adrift in the Pincer Nebula -- when the familiar clunking of rocket-propelled boots walking across tile reaches your ears. Somewhere in your mind, you're aware of it, but you're too engrossed in your reading to pay it any attention.
"No, I ain't gonna play wit' ya. I let ya chase Todo around already." Cad is, presumably, talking to Vince. He'll never admit it, but he's grown awfully fond of the little fella. "An' quit weavin'. I'm jus' gonna step on ya."
He tramps down the steps into the galley. Vince seems to give up on his wanting attention and returns the way he came. Poor little fella. You’ll give him some fish tonight as a treat.
As soon as Cad realizes there's a pot boiling, he goes right to it. For as dour a man as he is, he is still a man, and men think with their stomachs.
"What's fer--" He lifts the lid and stops dead. "...girlie."
"Yes?" you reply without looking up. Artemesia is trying to fix the heating system, but it looks like it's busted. They're going to have to strip down and cuddle up...
"Ya got a dick in here," Cad says flatly.
"I know," you reply. Aw, even despite the fact they've already slept together, Cachi's getting blushy about seeing her naked...
Long, bulb-tipped fingers push the edge of the holopad down, bringing you face to face with Cad's crotch. Based on the tent, he appears to be half-hard. You look up to see him frowning. "Ya gonna tell me why or are ya gonna keep me in suspense?"
You blink at him for a moment. Then you remember where you are and what's going on. "To sterilize it," you say. "Get anything unsavory off."
His brow scrunches up. "But ya cook with dat pot."
"And?"
Face still scrunched, he looks at the stove, then back at you. "...Dat thing was inside me."
You can't help but laugh. "It's boiling water! It'll kill anything on the dildo and in the pot. And besides..." You stand. He's not wearing his duster, so you're able to easily give his rear end a firm pinch. "You were pretty clean to begin with."
For such a dour man, he gets awfully blushy whenever you go for his ass. He sucks in a breath and goes straight as a rod, a big green splotch spreading across his cheeks. It contrasts nicely with his eyes.
You switch the heat off and remove the pot from the stove. You pluck the implement from the water with tongs and dump the water down the sink. Steam rises to warm your face as you set the pot down. "I always wash everything afterwards, if it makes you feel any better--"
A pair of hands on your hips and lips on your ear make you jump. Cad pins you against the counter, his now two-thirds-hard cock pressing against the curve of your ass.
He drags his tongue up the shell of your ear, giving it a gentle nip. "I was thinkin' ya let me use dat next time," he murmurs. "Fill ya up twice as much."
"Two in one or one in each?" you reply.
You took two in your pussy once. It hurt a lot and it only lasted about fifteen seconds before your pussy ejected both, but you did it for the sole purpose of bragging rights -- not that you go around telling everyone about that sort of thing. Just the horny men.
And the way he goes stiff and cranes his neck to look at you, face completely blank, sends a thrill right through you.
"Look me in de eyes an' ask dat again," he says.
You don’t need to be told twice. You like looking into his eyes. They remind you of ruby cabochons, polished so perfectly round that they catch the light with a glossy luster. They'd be worth millions.
Hell, you like looking at his face in general. You haven't decided if he's handsome yet, but he's just so... interesting. If his eyes are gems, his face is the relic they're set in. Lined and tarnished and filled with so much character. Utterly priceless. Ought to be in a museum so you could steal him for yourself.
Ugh. This man makes you think such ridiculous things.
"Well?" he asks, snapping you out of your larcenous musings.
And he has teeth like worn, weathered ivory. You really shouldn't find that attractive and yet.
It takes you a second to remember what he was originally asking about. Double penetration. Right.
"I can fit two dicks in there," you say proudly.
His eyes widen, then his brows rise. His cock follows. “Don’t believe ya.”
You’re... actually a little offended. “I’ve told you wilder things,” you say, “and that’s the one you don’t believe?”
He spins you around to face him, placing his hands on the edge of the counter to trap you. He’s trying to look intimidated, but the flush makes it unconvincing. “You been lyin’ to me, li’l lady?”
You actually pause for a moment. You don’t think you’ve lied to him... Exaggerated a little bit, perhaps. But never lied. You think.
He doesn’t like your hesitation. He lunges for your lips, but you slip under his arms and jump away. He takes a step towards you, fangs glinting.
You feel like playing hard to get. So, hard to get you will be.
Cad narrowly misses the hem of your dress as you dodge past him and up the stairs, but he’s got longer legs and is right behind you.
You're halfway up the ladder to the Justifier when he snatches you by the ankles. You squeal as he yanks you downwards.
You land in a sprawling heap atop him. You try to scramble away, but he grips your waist and rolls you over, trapping you between his wiry arms.
His chest heaves as he stares down at you, those cabochons practically glowing. "Gotcha."
You give him a coy smile and bat your lashes. "What are you gonna do to me, bounty hunter?" you say.
He's quiet for a moment, scanning your features as he catches his breath.
He wastes no time in rolling you over and pinning your wrists above your head. Brushing your hair aside, he attacks the nape of your neck. Short and sweet, long and lingering. He scrapes his fangs across it, drags his tongue across it, covers it with kisses.
You, of course, can do nothing but squeal. You’ve always been ticklish there. "Caaaaad!" you howl through laughter. "Stop it!"
"Nah." He places his whole mouth on it, practically tongue kissing the vertebrae. "Gotcha right where I want ya an' I ain't lettin' ya go."
You let out a groan that turns to involuntary giggles. You kick and thrash halfheartedly.
Finally, he releases your wrists and rolls you over. Lust sparks in his eyes, and he hitches your dress up. "Always liked fuckin' on de floor," he says as he fumbles with his zipper. "More room."
You open your mouth to agree, only to pause. Behind him, peering down the top of the hatch, is a tooka-shaped void. Vincenzo watches you with his one yellow eye. If you didn't know better, you'd say he looked concerned.
...You suddenly feel weird screwing in front of the cat. It seems... wrong.
Cad senses your apprehension, as he stops in his fumbling and looks over his shoulder. "Vince's lookin' at us."
"I know."
He looks back to you. "Don't feel right."
"I was just thinking the same." He lets you stand, and you help him to his feet. "Bunk?"
He huffs. "I s'pose."
You break into a grin. "You'll have to catch me first."
You scramble up the ladder and into the Justifier, blowing past Vincenzo. Cad is right behind you and you fall to the floor as soon as the door is closed.
You plows you like a field. Arms hooked under your knees, moaning and purring. It’s excellent. He pops like a champagne cork and falls beside you, panting. You’re about to complain when he presses his fingers to your core. You grind against them until you climax as well.
Quick and dirty. Just like you.
He mops you up with a stray towel. But when he tries to place a kiss on you, you hop to your feet and zip out the door.
It’s good to have no refractory period.
---
You gave him a good run for his money. He’s about to give up when you sweeten the deal -- if he catches you, he can take you from behind.
That lights a fire in him.
He doesn't even bother toying with you when he catches you, just tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of flour and hauls you to the nearest waist-high surface. Namely, the countertop in your galley.
He places you face-down. Snatching a bottle of minalive oil from the counter, he pries the cap off with his teeth and dumps some into his hands. He groans as he slicks his cock up.
You squeak as he slips his fingers into your rear. You're not worried -- you keep yourself meticulously clean -- but it's been awhile and his fingers are cold.
He doesn't react. "Safe word's meiloorun," he rasps. He doesn't wait for you to acknowledge before sliding in.
You have mixed feelings about anal. It's not wildly pleasurable for you, but the mere mention of it seems to drive all the boys feral and that enthusiasm is contagious.
He's growling and groaning and whining as he pounds into you. He's like a man possessed, rutting into you the same way he does when he's fertile.
You can't help but match his volume. You're not sure what comes out of your mouth, but it's loud and obscene and thank the Maker you're in hyperspace right now because if there was anyone else around, you'd definitely be getting arrested for disturbing the peace.
And then a number of things happen at once. You hear a scraggly growl, and something heavy lands on your back. Bane's rhythm stutters, and he hits something that makes you cry out.
And then that weight springboards off your back into Cad. He squeaks in a decidedly unmanly way as he hits the floor. You hear a loud hiss.
You turn around. Vince is standing on Cad's chest, hackles raised high and his ears back. He lets out another hiss.
"Vincenzo!" you say. "Get off him!"
He doesn't react. Which, in hindsight, you should have expected. He's a tooka-cat. They don't respond unless it's convenient for them.
Cad, however, has completely lost his mind. He bares his fangs at Vincenzo and hisses back. Vince, predictably, does not like this. His hisses again, flattening his ears completely. Cad matches the hiss, adding in a rattle for good measure.
You can really only stare. This is the weirdest dick measuring contest you've ever seen.
And then Vince whacks Cad's rostum with his paw and scampers away to leap into your arms. Cad yelps in pain and clambers to his feet.
"I'm gonna make a boot outta ya!" he barks.
In all honesty, you get where he's coming from. You're pretty annoyed as well. But you can't stay mad at your favorite kitty. Especially when he was just trying to protect you.
"He was just trying to protect his momma," you say. "Look, he didn't even use his claws."
Cad pulls his hand away from his face. No blood, just as you suspected, but now there’s a bit of oil.
He glares at his fingers, then at Vince. He spits something in Durese. You've been reading up a little bit on the language -- lots of technology-based metaphors -- and you recognize it as a curse. Literally sit on a faulty piston. Figuratively fuck you.
Vince doesn't react. Just twitches his ears and wiggles his little nose. He looks up at you and blinks. Mrrrow, he says.
Cad hisses again. It would be funny if it wasn’t the third time. "Cool it," you say. "He's just a cat. He'd do the same for you if you were in trouble."
He crosses his arms and scrunches his face up like a petulant child. “We gonna fuck or not?”
“Sure, sure... if you can catch me.”
You fling the cat at him and run.
---
You resume the chase. Maybe it’s the post-sex endorphin rush, maybe it’s the minalive oil making his hands too slippery, maybe something deep in your subconscious just isn’t in the mood for anal.
But you, Irno Marie Favara, manage to keep away from Cad Bane, greatest bounty hunter in the galaxy.
Looking upon his panting, flushed form, collapsed like a rag doll against the stairs that lead up to your bedroom, you can’t help but feel proud of yourself.
“Throwing it in?” you ask. He glowers at you, then nods. “Say ‘uncle.’”
He spits at you in Durese again. You don’t catch a word of it this time, but you choose to believe he said ‘uncle’ in his mother tongue.
You ease him to his feet and help him up the stairs. He flops onto the bed, limbs sprawling every which way like a bunch of wet noodles.
“So what’cha gonna do?” he murmurs into the mattress. “Have yer wicked way with me?”
“Is that what you’d like?” you ask. You place your hand on his rear, and he jumps slightly.
Silence for a moment. He wrenches his head to the side to peer at you, eyes narrowed. “You wanna fuck me so bad it makes ya look stupid,” he says.
You grin at him.
---
Part of you is annoyed that you just cleaned the damn thing. But the part that enjoys seeing the baddest man in the galaxy so pleasure drunk that his voice jumps an octave is so, so much bigger.
Cad is huffing and moaning as you thrust into him, bucking up against you. He's completely forgotten how to speak Basic again, but you catch a bit of what he's saying. Lots of cursing, lots of begging. Fuck, Maker on high, faster, et cetera.
"Feel good?" you coo. He whines, and you take that as a yes. "Feel good to be full?"
His moan is muffled by the pillow this time. You definitely hear fullua in there, though.
It makes you blush a little bit. You've realized in your research that it's one of the stronger terms of affection one can use.
You pause just long enough for him to get agitated. He peers over his shoulder at you, looking haggard but with no intention of asking you to stop. He's green-faced and panting, his brows knit together.
"Y'ain't done, are ya?" he asks.
You give his ass a hard slap on the fleshiest part, making him yelp. "Beg."
He sneers. "Bitch."
You slap again, this time punctuating with a thrust that makes him yowl. "That's right," you say, emboldened. "Now beg."
He doesn't like that one bit. With a snarl, he pulls himself off of you and pushes you down to the bed. To your surprise, he penetrates himself atop you. His cock throbs as he lifts himself up and down, and you reach out to grab it.
He lets out a choking sound as you pump your hand and thrust your hips. He's close.
Movement out of the corner of your eye makes you turn. Vincenzo slinks out from underneath the bed, blinking sleepily. Cad moans again and the tooka's ears twitch.
You curse yourself inwardly. He's going to pounce on you, isn't he?
He doesn't. He just wiggles his nose, stretches his forelegs, arches his back, and sits back down.
Huh. Guess he definitely has a favorite person. What a chivalrous little guy.
You're so lost in thought that you don't even notice Cad's sudden rhythmless bucking. With a gasp and a drawn-out whine, he pops all over your belly. It's a big one, too -- a few drops hit your chest.
He flops backwards immediately, hitting the pillows with a plump. Shudders rack him every few seconds as he pants and gasps for breath.
"You alright?" you ask. He bobs his head in a rough nod, only to whimper as another shudder hits him.
You pull a towel from the bedside table and, after mopping yourself up, give him a quick clean. You unstrap the harness and wrap the dildo in the towel, setting it on the floor. You'll take care of it later.
Quiet rumbling catches your attention, and you turn. Vince has hopped onto the bed and curled up in the crook of Cad's shoulder, purring loudly.
You can't help but smile. Sitting on the bed next to them, you give Vince's head a little scratch.
"Good kitty," you say.
Vince lets out a scraggly mrrr. You swear that he smiles at you.
Cad mumbles something you don’t quite catch. You ask him to repeat himself. He cracks open an eye to glare at you. “If yer gonna fuck me in de ass,” he grunts, “at least gimme a kiss after.”
...you know what? That’s entirely fair. You lay down next to him and scoot a little closer. “Only if you kiss me too,” you breathe.
Both eyes pop open. He blinks, then reaches his hand to your hair. You flinch a bit -- they’re still covered in minalive oil -- but let him pull you closer. You pucker your lips, but you don’t feel his cool, rough skin.
Instead, he presses his brow to yours. His eyes drifting closed, he rubs his rostrum back and forth across your nose. It reminds you of what Vince does -- a gentle bonk with the head to show affection. But coming from him and not a cat, it makes your heart flutter.
“Pretty l’il lady,” he murmurs. He sounds dazed. Maybe he actually is drunk on pleasure.
Regardless, your heart flutters even more. You let yourself feel it, let it fill your whole chest. A thousand tiny butterflies, all flitting around... Or, with how soft it feels, maybe they’re moths, with their little antennae fronds and fuzzy clothes.
You decide they’re moths. The pretty pink and white ones that show up during the summer, resting on the lemon trees, disguising themselves amongst the blossoms--
Cad clears his throat, knocking you out of your musings. He’s pulled away and is glaring half-heartedly at you. He puckers his lips.
Oh. Right. Your end of the bargain.
You will all of the moths up out of your ribs and into the softest, sweetest kiss you can manage. Your nose squishes slightly against his rostrum as you press your lips to his. You hope that he gets even a little bit of it.
He lets out a soft breath as you part, eyes drifting open. Then they close again, and he lets out a massive yawn and rolls over.
You’re a little disappointed, but this means you get to be the big spoon. You scoot close to him and drape your arm around him, pressing your forehead against the back of his head.
A soft, rumbling weight settles across you, and you open your eyes a little to see a tooka-shaped black hole perching across both of your hips.
---
DRIVE R//: User > Irno > Desktop > Vacay Pics (send to Ludo) > Zeltron > Pola > Hot Guys > Dossiers > Cad2.hpd
THINGS I CAN USE AGAINST CAD BANE
#82: if i have to make a quick break, pegging him will put him out like a light.
---
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#cad bane x reader#cad bane x oc#cad bane#catch us if you can#99 problems#vincenzo the loth cat#irno favara#reader insert#x reader#x oc#star wars smut#emberly writes#thanks for the ask!
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pride month babeyyy
How would Cad and Irno react to one of their kids coming out as queer?
The way I like to write it, there's no assumption of sexuality in this fictional universe, so "coming out" isn't really a thing.
The in-universe answer: Zeltrons give -2 fucks about sexuality, so Irno wouldn't bat an eye. Bane doesn't care either way as long as the kid can literally shoot straight.
---
Bane is dreaming about fighting a giant nuna when a hand shakes his shoulder.
The dream fades as he blinks awake. He tries to get his bearings -- he's in his bed in the apartment, you're sleeping next to him, and the sky outside is just starting to turn gray.
A pair of big red eyes peer at him in the darkness. Bambi stands there in his pajamas, clutching his teddy bantha.
He says something so fast that Bane doesn't catch it. He tries to ask him to repeat himself, but it comes out as "s'data'gn?"
"Can I kiss boys sometimes?" he asks.
Bane blinks at him. He glances at the chronometer. "It's four in de mornin', boy."
Bambi shrugs. "I just wanted to ask."
He scrubs his hand across his face. His eyes are scratchy and his head screams at him to go back to sleep. "Yer seven. Yer too young to be kissin' anyone. Kiss whoever ya want when yer older. Now go de fuck back to bed."
The boy nods. "Mmkay. Just wanted to ask."
He turns on his heel and leaves. As soon as the door is shut, Bane flops back onto the pillow. Rolling over, he reaches his arm around you and pulls you into him.
You stir slightly, making a high-pitched hum. "What'd he want?"
He buries his face in your hair, right between your curlers. "Bambi wanted to lemme know he likes boys sometimes," he murmurs into your scalp.
"That's all?" you ask. He nods, and you hum again. "Good to know."
You're warm and you smell nice. He's back asleep in seconds. Time to fuck that nuna up.
---
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#cad bane x reader#cad bane x oc#cad bane#catch us if you can#99 problems#irno favara#reader insert#x reader#x oc#emberly writes#winrel bane#thanks for the ask!
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Dude I adore ur Cad Fam so much I can't take it 💕 Especially Bambi for some reason like I just know he's gonna be such a tall boy like his papa and Irno's still gonna want to hug/cuddle her baby boi and be such a lil mom 😭🥺 (this image brings me so much serotonin I might draw it and that's a threat) ilysm dude have a great one 🌹
do it u won't
Aaah thank you! 💙💙💙 I'm so glad you enjoy it as much as I do!
Bambi does indeed end up huge -- a few inches taller than his dad, in fact. Upside-down Dorito shoulders. Toned abs. Big blue hunk.
Never outgrows cuddles with Momma, though. He's the son that sneaks up on her when she's busy in the kitchen to pick her up and twirl her around while she laughs and scolds him.
#thanks for the ask!#catch us if you can#winrel bane#irno favara#he's a total mama's boy in the best kind of way#he's also covered in tattoos of various degrees of quality#but his favorite is the big heart that says Mom
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