Poisonousrain222 - Lori

YESSSS

Once again procrastinating school work by drawing him

HE’S SOOO

𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕧𝕚𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕓𝕠𝕓𝕒 𝕗𝕖𝕥𝕥

⋆ ★ ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2023 ʟɪɴᴇᴜᴘ

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ʙᴏʙᴀ ꜰᴇᴛᴛ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ʙᴏʙᴀ, ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀʟ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘᴇɴɪꜱ ɪɴ ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀ ꜱᴇx, ʟᴏꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ

⋆ ★ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢɪʀʟɪᴇ ᴛᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴍᴜꜱᴄʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴘʀᴇᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘɪᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴜꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ʜᴏᴘᴇꜰᴜʟʟʏ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ʙᴏʙᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʙᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :)

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

You’ve never felt this small before.

One of the most feared men in the galaxy is between your legs, holding you so softly and carefully as if you might shatter at any moment. Such a tactile man, hardened from years of battle, now rightfully in your arms, rightfully claiming you, in such a manner nothing else could’ve been destined.

“Oh…” It’s just a simple sigh, a gentle commendation of his slow, concentrated strokes with his tongue. You want to say more, tell Boba how good it feels, how good he’s making you feel, but you’re rendered to a simple blubber and string of words that pathetically make up fractured sentences and pleasant, flimsy moans. He rumbles between your thighs, the vibrations sending a shiver down your legs and making your toes curl every so slightly. You dig a heel into his shoulder.

Boba pulls away from your sopping cunt, swiping his tongue over his lips to gather your lingering taste there, and gazes up. His stare is surprisingly unusually sweet. Unusually tender.

“How are you feeling, little one?” He asks you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your inner thighs, tantalizingly close to your outer lips. A hiss uncoils out of your tongue and your chest heaves with a heavy breath. Boba waits patiently.

“Really good, Boba.” You even make the gesture and effort to lean your body onto one hand instead of both, taking the free one to hold his cheek. The merciless bounty hunter melts in your hold; he turns his head to leave a firm kiss on your palm. Then your thumb. Then your index. He kisses each tip of your finger as you compose your next thoughts. “I feel really good.”

Something of a grin reaches his lips; it isn’t one typical of a regular man, but it’s a characteristically hardened expression that means all the more to you. It means he’s grateful, savoring each moment he has with you. Your heart swells and arousal pools.

He returns to the task beforehand; easy strokes of his tongue ease you back into the feeling before he trails a hand up, closer to your entrance where he hasn’t been before. As you feel the tip of the first knuckle undulate small, contained circles, you squeal quietly. Boba perks up.

“Do you want me to continue?”

It’s not a hard decision to make. You nod your head, adding a sweet ‘yes,’ voice just a little breather than before.

Boba’s hand glides over the top of your entrance, fingertips a phantom touch barely caressing your pussy, yet it’s enough to make you tremble. Then, he presses further. He makes his touch more purposeful.

Gathering dollops of wetness for a moment, rubbing the spend over one digit, before sliding it in slowly. Soothing yet nerve-wracking all the same.

But then, the finger is seated in you with little resistance. Little pain. You feel your warmth hug his appendage, keeping it firmly inside of you as you stretch just the slightest bit (yet more than you ever have), and sigh sweetly.

“Mm…” You hum, eyes fluttering close for a minute. The soft noise of praise you can’t distinguish and the featherlight peck on your inner thigh bring you back to the moment.

“Good job,” is all he says. Yet it’s all enough. You see in his gaze the fascination, the utter reverence in his stare that makes you want to curl up into yourself and scream into the sheets to never rise up again. But you keep your stare on him.

Boba lifts himself up, resting his knees between yours to spread you out further and join you on his expansive bed. As if you couldn’t relax any further, your shoulders practically sink into the mattress beneath you, and his eyes twinkle.

He must love this.

You’d hope so, at least.

“Hm, look at yourself, little one.” The praise sends you into another frenzy, breathing low in your stomach stagnated. “‘Getting stretched out nice and good. Taking my fingers like a good little princess.”

“Boba,” You sob quietly, feeling the digit sink deeper into you. Many times you’ve brought a release with your own fingers, but they’re nothing compared to his. Not as big, not as thick. He just manages to be gentle enough to leave you only slightly uncomfortable, yet the slow movement of his hand and wrist rocking back and forth, back and forth is already bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

Boba can feel it.

“How many fingers do you need, baby?”

You mouth something that he doesn’t seem to understand, instead deciding for you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear.

“Three?”

The only thing you can do is whine and rock your hips.

“Yeah, I think you do,” Boba answers his own question, pushing in a second finger with little resistance from your body and fucking you with his fingers steadily. “`Gonna need some stretching if you want me to deflower you.”

You just manage to stave off your orgasm until he gets a third finger in, leaving you positively soaked and stretched more than you’ve ever been before. Boba stays silent, breathing in his stomach while cradling the back of your head. His free hand tucks strands of hair behind your ear when you come down with soft sighs and hiccups. All the while, he talks; you’d never think he’d be talking in the bedroom as much as he does.

“Mm, you’re doing so well, little one.”

“Feeling okay? It’s okay if you can’t speak. Just nod, yes or no.”

“Nuh-uh. Just stay like that. Let me make this good for you.”

When you catch your breath, you see Boba’s already taken off the bottom part of his armor, leaving him just as bare as you. He meets you on the bed, pressing his knees on either side of your legs and resting your head on a plush pillow, bunching your hair to keep it out of your eyes. The simple considerate gesture has you reeling.

It’s still oddly blunt, nonetheless. Only the slimmest layer of sugary pleasantness coats his actions; you still see the hardened, rough, unrelenting man he is. But it’s in an entirely new light now. The roughness is all his way of handling you the way he wants, ensuring you’re satisfied and taken care of with no trace of unhappiness left in your body. In the determination, there is thoughtfulness.

Boba lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, forcing your chin to stop looking at where your bodies will meet and inevitably join and instead into his eyes.

“I’ll make you feel good, little one. I promise.” He seals the guarantee with a sweet kiss, holding your chin to angle your face properly. 

When he pulls away, he pushes barely an inch forward and you gasp, suddenly strung tight by nerves.

He’s incredibly gentle. But he doesn’t go slow.

The thick girth of his cock stretches your pussy out, even more than his fingers, unrushed and carefully, despite how taut he keeps his stomach. As you observe his face, you begin to question if Boba is even breathing.

Despite his caution and gingerly stretch, there’s still a twinge of pain that rushes through you. It’s washed, practically doused and drenched by your own arousal, your own wetness, and the deep, low, perpetual throbbing in your lower stomach.

Boba presses his forehead to yours and you finally hear him let out a deep exhale.

“That’s it,” he praises with a groan when you involuntarily clench, finally processing the new sensations all throughout your body.

Suddenly, you’re whining and hiding your face in his shoulder when he pulls out slightly, the slick link of your bodies causing a slight difficulty to disconnect. As he presses back in, your words are pathetically gracious, pure reverence as you take only a fraction of all Boba has to give you. One day you’ll be able to take it all. This is just the beginning. But this is already so much. So much you might just cry.

It’s still incredibly difficult to process that he not only chose you, but let you choose him.

So you whine out,

“Thank you.”

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put in the tags what ur tumblr would smell like as a scratch n sniff

Of course, @marshmallow--3 💕 I kept this as an AFAB!Reader, no mentions of gender other than anatomy. I hope this is okay!

stay awhile | boba fett x afab!reader

Kinktober Day Twelve: Creampie

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Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: ROTJ!Boba Fett x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: penetrative sex (p in v), reunion sex, throat holding (not choking, more like gentle squeezing), creampie

You hear him before you see him.

Well, technically, you hear his ship. It gives out a strange, whining noise that bounces off the canyon walls. You never know which direction he comes in from, but you know that you'll see him soon. Hours, if not minutes.

It's only a matter of time before your small homestead is surrounded in an up-kick of dust and the familiar tshnk, tshnk, tshnk of spurs approaches your door. Any other ship would make you uneasy, if it was anyone else at your door in the middle of the night. But not Boba. You find a strange comfort in the bounty hunter's presence, and you will put credits down he does, too. Why else would he keep returning?

You don’t make it to bed this time, the both of you falling into a heap on your floor. Your hands tear and pull at your clothes until you're both naked and panting. There is an aura of anxiety around him, hanging onto him like a bad smell, but he doesn't give you a moment to ask.

Later, you think as he occupies himself between your legs.

His calloused hands holding onto the meatier parts of your thighs as he keeps you open. He touches you like he’s sizing you up, and by the way he’s staring you down with your arousal dripping down the corners of his mouth…he looks like he feels. Anxious.

You reach your hand out as best you can, your fingers tips not even reaching him. “Boba…” Your voice is calm, hoping it’s enough to melt away his worry. 

“Need you,” His voice is raspy as if he hasn’t spoken in days. “Can I have you?”

You nod, muttering an “always” under your breath as sits up on his knees. He neglects to wipe his chin clean in favor of guiding you to lock your feet against the small of his back. 

“'M not gonna last long. It’s been a whi—”

"It’s okay,” You shuffle to press yourself against his cock. Maker, you don’t need to see him to feel the way he’s throbbing. “I just want to feel you.”

He nods as he slides a hand between the two of you, adjusting himself so the thick head of his cock notches at your entrance and pushes in slowly.

“Fuck…”

This is the best part. The part that makes the waiting worth it.

Boba's moans are deep, smoky and low as they vibrate through every cell in your body. The feeling of fullness starts to build as he slowly enters you. With the first two inches of his cock enveloped in your warmth, he leans in to steady himself of outstretched hands on either side of your head. The beginning is always calm, Boba offering you the change to back out, but with you nodding for him to continue, things change. He strips you of all rational thought with his first thrust, the weight of his cock settling so deep within you it feels like he’s squishing your lungs.

He sets his pace, fast and messy, one that tears a gasp from your lungs. You can’t even get words out, your hole squeezing around him with each stroke. He feels like he’s going to split you in half, and you clinging to his biceps does nothing to slow him. It only spurs him to buck his hips harder until your knees bend to give him better access. He sends your head spinning into dizziness, the desire for him to stay forever has the pressure in your core building.

When he moans your name, you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. And that won’t do. He’ll never admit it with so many words, but he’s missed the way you look at him. When you don’t look at him, he moves a hand to wrap around your throat, adjusting to squeeze ever so slightly to get your eyes to flutter open. The second he sees your rises he relaxes his hold, but keeps his hand around your throat.

Lust sweeps over his features, brows furrowed and his jaw locked tighter as he grits out, “Where? Tell me where to come.”

“Wh—wh?”

Your words are nothing short of babbling as he folds you nearly in half, his thrusts grow more erratic. With him beating against those spots that make your eyes rolls back, he fucks you like it's his job — and Maker, you wish it was, if only so you can feel his arms around you for the rest of your life and have his lovemaking all to yourself.

“Hurry.” He croaks, the sound of his voice shaking the walls.

You utter a weak cry — “Here” — before pointing to the place where you’re joined together. 

A clever man, he doesn’t need you to clarify. He lowers his head to hover next to yours, his lips hitting the shell of your ear as he says, “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

And you do. Your back arches until your chests meet and his name is falling from your lips. You clench around him, and it’s not long until he joins you in bliss. He slams into you once more, stuffing you full with his release. His balls tighten as they rest against the curve of your ass, his own moans muffled into your neck as he lets loose. Not an inch of you goes uncovered, your insides painted in milky white with his release.

It’s only when he’s released everything that’s gone unspent for months does he collapse on top of you. “S—Sorry, ah...”

He’s ungraceful as he falls to your side, laying next to you as not to smush. He's meek now, almost sheepish as he strokes your cheek. There is something on the tip of his tongue, something he wants to say. You turn to face him with curious eyes, your own hand coming up to hold his wrist.

“…Can’t stay long. Jabba is asking for me.”

Of course.

You keep your voice neutral, hoping the disappointed doesn’t also weight down your words. “S’okay. Figured that’s why you’re back. What does he want?"

He snorts, his thumb moving down from your cheek to your lips. "I don't think the slug even knows."

There is another pregnant pause before he speaks. "It shouldn’t take long, three days max. I was…hoping I could see you. Again. Maybe stay…longer.”

You smile, “Stay as long as you’d like.”

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SANCTUARY

—PAIRING: Boba Fett x Female Character

—SUMMARY: Sometimes sanctuary isn’t a place, it’s a person.

—WORD COUNT: 1.2k

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

—TAGS & WARNINGS: third person narration, explicit sexual content, Empire era!Boba, yearning (once again hehe), themes surrounding sex work, oral sex (fem receiving), open-ended ending (like not sad but not necessarily happy either? ends on a sense of longing) Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you so much @wolffegirlsunite for this amazing song prompt ask! I'm trying out third person for the first time (so lemme know if y'all like it) and idk if this counts as a reader insert but I intended for it to kinda be like one, so I kept the female character's description vague. I am also trying to practice writing shorter pieces with these song prompts and let me tell you!! I do not like shutting up!!! I have many thoughts concerning this man!!!! But it wouldn't be a challenge if it was easy 🤨

Enjoy besties 💖

Song: Sanctuary by Joji

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

If you’ve been waiting for falling in love

Babe, you don’t have to wait on me

‘Cause I’ve been aiming for heaven above

But an angel ain’t what I need

It’s always after dark when he comes to see her. Like a fallen star, he touches down on the glimmering world of Canto Bight in the dead of night—a whispered name amongst the patrons in the casino as he passes through the velvet ropes to the pleasure house above. Boba can feel their eyes, their titillation, their curiosity, their fear of him on his back as he ascends the stairs. He pays it no mind because when he crosses the threshold into the Black Rose, only one thing matters to him.

Low lights soon give way to neon walls where beautiful men and women dance, their dark silhouettes enthralling their audience as drinks are served and credits are spilled from pockets. Boba doesn’t bother to stop and admire the show, however, he strides directly over to the pink-skinned Twi’lek sitting in the corner booth. She greets him with a familiar smile, knowing who he is and what he’s here for. She nods wordlessly towards the curtain behind her and the guard steps aside to let him pass.

The music dampens to a dull thump in the gilded waiting room, the air fragranced with dusky rose and sultry amber. He takes off his helmet to let the sweet air kiss his face, a gentle brush over the tips of his ears, the bow of his lips, the tip of his nose. Boba breathes it in, the scent of his escape. The scent that clings to his clothes even after he leaves, reminding him that she’s only ever one call away, laying alone and empty of him. Those thoughts, that sinful fragrance… they make his body ache for hers.

It drives him almost as much as his desire to be the best to honor his father’s legacy. That dull throbbing in his bones is his pain’s pleasure: the satisfaction of completing another job is made even greater with the knowledge that his reward is waiting on Canto Bight. It’s only after his pucks are turned in and his bounties paid that he allows himself to see her. She is a wine he must only sip, her sweet intoxication too tempting to allow himself anything greater. 

Her taste already stains his lips, keeping him from coming in the light of day, despite that the dim interior is never any brighter than it is after the sun sets. Because then she would know. She’d know that if she’s holding out, waiting to fall into that unspoken love that she wouldn’t have to wait on him, that his heaven isn’t one floating in the sky. An angel isn’t what he needs... it’s her. 

That’s why he no longer seeks out anyone else to fulfill his desires, why she’s become the only one. Boba has experienced the thrill of pleasure with many in his years, discovered what he liked and what gave him the release he required to keep his mind clear. Most of all, however, it revealed how he needs the warmth of equal to truly soothe the burning in his core, something more than just the colorful amusement of a dancing girl or the rough diversion of another hunter on a long job. He needs more, firmer ground to touch down upon. He needs a sanctuary.

She likes to make him wait for a couple minutes when he arrives, let their mutual anticipation build to a low boil. Swiping on her trademark ruby lipstick, the Madame of the Black Rose smiles at her painted reflection. Boba Fett is in her waiting room, fresh off a hunt, pent up and ready to burn through all that raw energy. He needs her. He’s never said as much, but she knows that’s why he comes to her, to work through the knots in his soul after being wound so tight. 

Donning the sheer black robe laid out on her chair, she saunters into her waiting room practically purring with delight. Boba is reclined on the low slung chaise, legs apart with his helmet propped on his knee. His pretty lips twitch into the smallest of smiles at her appearance, his dark eyes glinting with salacious intention as they slip down her body. All she has to do is hold out her jeweled hand and he’s pushing her back into her rooms, his hot mouth sealing over hers.

The fervid way they tear into each other, pulling clothes and armor off as quickly as their tangled limbs will allow, speaks the words their lips do not: what you want is what I want. Sincerity in motion, acted out but never spoken of. Two souls that lie awake when apart dreaming of the courageous, secret reality where they give into something real. Something that they passed off for child’s play or a fantasy fit only for those on the opposite side of the galaxy’s underbelly—either way, certainly not something for them. Bounty hunters and working girls, no matter how revered or expensive, don’t get happy endings together. Not in this life at least. 

When he kneels between her thighs, Boba revels in the slick warmth and breathy moans that she allows him to wring out of her with his tongue and fingers. One orgasm is not enough for him, nor two, and just barely three before he comes up for air, panting praises and curses into her soft skin while she runs her nails through his hair. It gives her such pleasure, such luscious pride to see his glossed over eyes and slick-shined face so overwrought and pussy drunk. She hasn’t even touched him properly yet and he’s a man consumed.

When he finally gives her his cock, it’s hard and leaking, flushed with violet want. She relishes in the way he fills her cunt every single time he takes her; the lurid stretch of him burns in her veins, her heart pounds against her ribs as he snaps his strong hips against the back of her thighs. When she flips him on his back to ride him how she likes, she yanks his face up by his curls to kiss and bite and bruise her way into him. Maybe if she kisses him long and deep enough, he’ll hear all the things she cannot bring herself to say. That if he loves her like she loves him, he doesn’t have to wait any longer to make her his. That she doesn’t want an angel or a savior, just him. 

Skin to skin and cheek to cheek, she hopes there’s an osmosis of sentiment. Fuck me harder, she begs her with body, fuck me like you’re not going to leave. Fuck me like our lives won’t end up apart. And he does, again and again, every time he darkens her door. He digs his fingers in, sinks his mark into her giving flesh, pulling her so close because they can never know how long their lifetimes will be. When he holds her so tight her lungs protest and her ribs threaten to crack, she locks her legs around his muscular torso and presses her lips to his ear. We can aim for heaven above, baby, you don’t have to wait on me.