A/N: Finally completed the Mob Boss Bob!AU for @maybege AU birthday bash! I’m a little late but I had so much fun writing this! Please let me know what you all think!
Word Count: 4k+
Warnings: guns, violence, blood, reader gets mugged, angst, fluff, soft!Boba, make out sesh, Boba being hot as fuck as mob boss, age gap? (only if you squint), allusions to sex, just mob boss boba being so soft.
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You’ve never understood why you hate the dark. It’s been a fear of yours since childhood and something that you have always tried to avoid unless it was within the safety of your home. You suppose it has more to do with the things in the dark rather than the darkness itself that scares you. The things that lurk within the shadows as you make the 15 minute walk home from work. The walk that you typically do in the afternoon but are now doing at night because someone called out of their evening shift at the diner…
Yes. it’s most definitely the evil that comes with the darkness.
The scuffle of shoes on the pavement as the man steps out of an alleyway you are about to pass. The way the streetlights make his face invisible to you as he blocks your path. And yet…despite the darkness surrounding you both, you don’t miss the small glint of gunmetal as pulls his hands from his pockets.
“P-please-” you manage to spit out, pulling your purse from your shoulder and holding it out, “Take whatever you want. My wallets in here, and my phone too-”
You barely even register what happens next. All you feel is a sharp blinding pain on the side of your head as hard metal connects with delicate skin. You only realize you have been struck as your elbows dig into pavement when you hit the ground.
Hi, @gokyacetakal, I did not quite hit the mark with this, but I think I failed successfully nevertheless. I was planning on doing something with Boost and Sinker, too, but couldn't think of anything so far. Answering like this so I can keep the ask in case inspiration strikes after all!
They're playing mancala! Since it only needs a board and some pebbles I figured it's something Wolffe could have easily made as a child-appropriate bonding activity not involving jetpacks or explosives.
summary: you have a need that you cannot voice and obi-wan is less than accommodating
warnings: oof mentions of touch starvation, general angst and fluff
wordcount: just upwards of 2.4k. amazing
a/n: this is an entirely self-serving fic, i really need some top-tier hugs. i tried to make this as everything-neutral as possible, do tell if i missed anything. my clumsy ass is still getting used to tumvler so excuse my formatting, editing was a bitch. comments and constructive criticism are forever welcomed!
gif credit: i have no idea whose this is, please DM me for credit or if you want it taken down 💕
It crept up on you like it always did.
The need, it was unnoticeable at first. An urge to hug him for a little while longer. Your palms wanting to just touch.
Then it got worse. Waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat when you realized you’d rolled a tad too far from Obi-Wan’s warmth. Ducking out of a meeting to wrap your arms around yourself and shudder.
It was never this bad growing up. Or maybe it was, the need was so constant that you were used to it. Scurrying around in the grimy slums of Coruscant, whispering and gathering tidbits of information for whatever slimy crime lord you served, one of the planet’s many rats that made up an endless network of intel.
[Image ID: A grey scale digital illustration of Waxer and Boil from The Clone Wars. They're lying on a bed covered in white sheets and blankets, their heads and upper bodies closer to the viewer on the bottom left of the canvas, with their slightly blurred legs trailing away on the right. They're naked and Boil is mostly lying on his back, with Waxer snuggled into his chest, their arms wrapped around each other. Their legs are twined together and Waxer's smiling face is somewhat tucked into Boil's neck. Boil's face is mostly turned away from the viewer as he presses his lips to Waxer's eyebrow. His hand is loosely touching Waxer's forehead. Their skin is covered in various scars and stretchmarks. End ID.]
I didn't record the timelapse for this because I, uh, intended it to be a sketch. >_>;;;; But I hadn't painted a fabric still life in a long time, and the sheets called to me, haha. Most of the wip shots are here, if you're curious.
I suppose this is vaguely Open Skies-adjacent, only because they don't have windows in their house, which is mostly underground. Maybe they're at a motel though? XD;
[Image ID: A digital illustration of several Clone Wars characters on and around a beat-up blue couch. Sitting on the far left is Hound, with the massiff, Grizzer, curled up in his lap. Hound is wearing his canon lower armor, but only his body glove/blacks on his upper body. His hair is buzzed short on one side, with the longer hair in front dyed in white and red stripes, and he has a bit of a mustache and goatee. Grizzer's head is tucked under his chin, and he's looking down at Grizzer's face with a smile, scratching his jaw. Next to Hound, lying down, is Fox, with a massiff named Nosy lying on him. Fox's knees are bent up, with his lower legs obscured behind Grizzer and Hound. He's in full armor, minus his helmet, with Nosy between his legs, and her head on his chest. There's a small white pillow tucked under his head, near the right arm of the couch, and Fox is sleeping with his face turned toward the viewer. He has a regulation haircut and no facial hair or visible tattoos. In front of Fox, on the floor, is Thorn. He has curly, dark blond hair that reaches to about his collar, and is wearing his lower armor, minus the boots, and blacks on his upper body. He has his left leg stretched out on the right side of the canvas, and his right leg bent over another massiff, Flatcake, who he's looking down at. She is lying on the floor, under his bent leg, body roughly parallel to the viewer. She's propped on one elbow, and looking to the left side of the canvas with her mouth open and tongue lolling out. Her other foreleg is stretched out to rest her paw on Fives' hand, on the ground. He is on the left side of the canvas, lying on his stomach, body parallel to the viewer. He's wearing his ARC lower body gear, though his legs trail off the left side of the canvas, and blacks on his upper body. He's propped on his elbows, hand under Flatcake's paw, smiling at her. On the back of the couch, above Fox and Nosy, an orange-striped tooka, Fierfek, who has a chunk missing from one ear is sleeping. The scene is lit by a dim, neutral light coming from somewhere above the viewer, but the brightest source of light is from a window on the tan wall behind the couch. Sun streams in, back-lighting the characters and creating bright spots among the shadows. End ID.]
Notes under the cut, to give the image ID (sorry it's so long D: ) priority:
This takes place in the RCAU after Fives and the CG get to know each other, but while things are very much in flux with the Republic/United Republic, and before the CG get their new digs and colors.
They've got a little downtime now, so Thorn (blondie) and Hound (red and white hair) conspire to get Fox to nap by sicking the massiffs on him. Nosy, one of the CG's oldest massiffs, is sweet and mellow, and usually the one who lies down on him. And as we all know, if an animal lies down on you, you stay put. So she's good at coercing Fox to nap.
Hound spoils Grizzer rotten, and they're just having some quality snuggles.
Fierfek, the tooka, is old and very cranky. Thorn found him a while back, hanging out near the CG offices, looking sick and scrawny, so he started feeding him. Fox wasn't happy about it and took to calling the tooka Fierfek to express his displeasure to Thorn and everyone else who fed the old boy. Fox is the only on Fierfek likes, though, and Thorn is both offended and amused. Fox does a bad job of pretending he doesn't like the tooka.
Fives and Thorn just spent a while running around like maniacs with Flatcake, who's on the floor with them. She's not quite a puppy, but she's still training, and tends to get a little destructive if she doesn't have enough exercise. Fives calls her 'M'lady.'
As the CG transitions out of the GAR and toward paid positions, they let the massiffs roam around the offices and barracks more often. Hound and Fox tend to assign anyone who's having a bad spell (often shinies after their first exposure to Corusacant) to massiff-walking duty.
hi there!!! could you write a fic that fits/ relates into this photo of fennec and a female reader? :)
I CAN ABSOLUTELY DO THAT and i want u to know that i had to stare at this for a good ten minutes before i could even think coherently. like u did that. if this is ur art i think that its absolutely STUNNING and if not can u pls point me in the direction of the creator bc i NEED to reblog it
fennec x f!reader (i implied to her being a lesbian more than being bisexual or pansexual in one line but its nothing major)
cw: The Chin Tip, semi-public sex, fingering in a hallway teehee, the word ‘whore’ is used once, exhibitionism
Your knees shake as you walk away from the stone dais. You think it went well, all things considered.
As respectfully as you could, you raised your complaint with Boba Fett, who sat with a practiced air of indifference atop the throne. You like to think that he did actually care for the little guys on this harsh planet.
You, a moisture farmer, can most definitely be classified as a 'little guy.'
The way Boba's legs spread wide and he seemed to practically sprawl against the throne would stir something inside you if you could find any pleasure in the male whatsoever.
Boba Fett is dangerous the same way a sleeping Krayt is dangerous. You know the beast is there. It's just waiting to be unleashed.
You like to think you fly as far under Fett's radar as humanly possible.
"It will be done," his voice still echoes through your head, even as you walk on unsteady legs towards the exit.
You're so close to the stairs it hurts, but once you're away from this place you can call it a day and take a much needed nap.
Light floods the stairwell before you can even get a foot on the first step.
You squint against the bright intrusion, as if the twin suns are trying to force their way through the door. You almost bring a hand up to cover your eyes, but no sooner than the doors open does a silhouette cut through the light that vanishes as the doors close.
You feel frozen in place as the figure comes down the stairs as silent as a shadow. Your heart beats like it wants to break through your ribs.
Fennec Shand saunters down the steps with an easy sort of confidence, the kind that comes when you know for a fact that you can take down every person in this room without breaking a sweat, until she's right in front of you.
Heat floods your cheeks as your world narrows down to nothing but the orange and black helmet that stares back at you.
If you look hard enough (which you definitely are. You're making it your mission to absorb every detail you can possible find from this woman.) you can see the tip of a scar that curls around one of her dark eyes.
Your tongue pokes out subconsciously to wet your lips.
The helmet tilts, as if the woman underneath it is considering something, and you choke on your next breath as she reaches towards you to tip your chin up.
The world freezes around you. There's nothing but you and Fennec and the knuckle that forces your head up to meet her eyes through the gap in her helmet.
She holds your gaze for — for a minute for a second for forever — a moment before she lets her hand drop and she breezes past you, as silent and deadly as the soft wind before a sandstorm.
All thoughts of walking back up those stairs vanish from your mind. Maybe they vanished the moment she walked down those stairs.
You watch as Fennec takes a cup of spotchka that's offered to her from the bar and sit at an empty booth along the side.
Your mind is made up before you even fully process what you're doing.
Your feet carry you across the room until you're standing at her table.
Fennec has her helmet off, and her hair is artfully disheveled from wearing it all day, and now you can see the way her lips quirk up in victory as she takes you in.
"This seat taken?" you ask, voice breathy but not as shaky as you would have thought.
Men have been gutted for even looking at Fennec for too long, not that you think killing pervs is a character flaw but it's intimidating nonetheless.
Fennec hums in consideration before carefully propping her feet up on the seat across from her.
Humiliation floods your senses. Your stomach drops through the floor and all you can do is swallow against the block in your throat.
"There's another seat available," Fennec's silky voice cuts through your thoughts.
What.
Your confusion must be clear as day, because her eyes flit downwards to her lap.
Your breath catches in your throat.
Is she serious?
Fennec stares back up at you, eyebrow quirked expectantly.
You don't think she's told no often.
You aren't about to try.
More gracefully than you would have thought with how shaky your knees are, you kneel one leg on the seat before swinging your other across her lap, straddling her as gently as you can.
Fennec hums in approval. Her hands settle atop your thighs, thumbs rubbing firm circles into your skin.
"Well, this must be the best seat in the house," you remark, forcing the words out before you can think better of it.
Her lips quirk up even more, not enough to show teeth which is a good thing because you don't think you'd be able to control yourself if you saw them. "I've had no complaints so far."
What are you doing? This is insane, you've never so much as had a one night stand. Now, you're dangerously close to rocking your hips down against her's.
It's like her touch ignites something that was long dormant under your skin. From the first time she touched you, the leather of her glove tipping your chin up, arousal curled around you gut and refused to be ignored.
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Fennec's hands trail up your thighs, over your hips, along the sides of your torso until one of her knuckles is tipping your chin up again, "but I don't think you're the type of girl who usually does this."
Your breath hitches in your throat as she lifts your chin even higher, exposing the length of your throat to Fennec's predatory gaze. "N-never," you confirm, hands fisting the leather of her jacket.
"Do you want to make it worth your while?"
Fennec's index finger rises to pin your chin between her finger and thumb, forcing your face closer to her's until there's barely an inch of space between the two of you.
Fuck. You do. You really do.
You think she can see it on your face. Her lips tweak up even more, flashing a hint of canine that has your cheeks flushing.
What would it feel like if she sank those teeth into your neck?
"I need an answer, pretty girl," Fennec coos, "yes," she jerks your head up and down in a mock nod, "or no," she guides your head to the left and right.
"Yes," you breathe before she even stills your head, "yes, please. I — I want to, I want to make it worth my while."
Your heart pounds in your chest and you think you must like a tooka caught in headlights: stunned, frozen, and overall unattractive.
Still, Fennec positively purrs at your response. Both hands drop to squeeze viciously at your ass before she loosens her grip and pats one cheek. "Up."
You scramble off her lap, nearly falling out of the booth in your haste to get this show on the road.
Fennec rises, as graceful as can be, and trails a finger down from the bend of your elbow to your wrist.
Your skin burns at her touch and you want to drown in her flame.
The room is almost suffocating but Fennec crowds you closer to her body, one hand at the small of your back that pulls you flush to her, and you feel yourself choke.
"You seem needy, sweet thing," Fennec teases, lips brushing against your ear.
Your body erupts into goosebumps.
If Fennec doesn't touch you now you think you're going to spontaneously combust on the spot.
Fennec’s lips split into a wide grin that you can feel against your skin, as if she knows you’re second away from trembling out of your own skin. You bemoan the fact that you can’t see her smile for yourself for only a second before she’s tugging you towards one of the many hallways that lead out of the throne room.
The crowded room parts for Fennec like she has the plague.
Eyes watch you as the two of you slip past. Will everyone know, come morning, that Fennec fucked a little moisture farmer for a bit of fun?
Will they all remember it was you?
The two of you barely make it halfway down a barely lit hallway before a groan slips from Fennec’s lips and she’s crowding you against the closest wall.
Your gasp is shrilly and no doubt echoes through the hallway, but you arch into her imposing weight all the same.
Fennec’s hands dance across your body, one of them weaving into your hair to bare your neck to her while the other slides beneath your waistband in practiced ease.
“You just couldn’t stop looking at me like that, could you?” she hisses in the darkness of the hall, and her breath is hot against your neck.
You shiver, canting your hips up to try and persuade her to touch you where you need, “Like what?” you ask, forcing the words out.
The very tip of her fingers, still wrapped in a leather glove, grazes across your clit.
“Like you want me to bend you over the nearest table and fuck you,” Fennec’s laugh is wicked and it sends a gush of arousal straight to your cunt. “I hope the wall will be okay for now.”
Two fingers slip inside your cunt.
You keen at the intrusion, bucking your hips as the meat of her palm grinds against your clit.
“Were you that needy?” Fennec demands, fingers thrusting in a devastating rhythm. She crooks them just right and stars explode in your eyes. “You just couldn’t wait to get fucked, could you?”
You nearly wail, writhing against the wall as your hands struggle to find purchase against her complicated leather outfit.
The hand in your hair slides around to grasp your jaw, forcing your head to look back down the hallway where you came.
“Do you think they can hear you?” Fennec whispers. She slips a third finger inside of you. “Do you think they can see the little whore getting fingered in the hallway?”
You sob out your pleasure, thighs trembling and being wholly unsupportive as Fennec’s thumb begins to rub shattering circles into your clit.
“Are you gonna cum?” Fennec’s teeth press into your neck, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it feeling of sharpness against your skin that has you aching for more. “Gonna cum for me?”
“Yes!” you cry out, feeling your core get tight as your impending release swells. “Please let me cum, Fennec.” You sound pathetic begging for an assassin’s permission to cum, but you think you’d beg her for permission to breathe if she asked you.
Fennec hums in approval, and the sting of teeth is replaced by a soft kiss being dropped just below your jaw. “Good girl,” she murmurs, fingers thrusting even faster, “let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”
“Fennec!” your cry of her name is raw, the sound torn from your already ruined throat.
You gush around her fingers. The sound of her fingers fucking you through your orgasm is positively obscene and it makes you cheeks burn in embarrassment.
Fennec’s fingers slip from your soaked cunt, but she continues to circle your clit until you’re jerking away in overstimulation.
“Good girl,” she whispers, letting go of your jaw to plant a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth. Her hand slides from your waistband, and in the dark of the hallway you hear a wet smacking sound that has your pussy clenching around nothing.
She’s tasting you from her fingers.
You can’t stop the whimper that escapes you.
Fennec’s hand finds the small of your back again, pushing you up on unsteady legs as she starts to guide you back down the hallway.
“C’mon pretty girl. We’ve still got the whole night ahead of us.”
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