Star Wars (Disney) may have forgotten about Boba Fett, but he’ll live on in plenty of adventures written by myself and allll my Boba besties out there!
For real, y’all are my heroes 🫡
Tbh it’s probably for the best because we understand his characterization better anyway
No, for real. We took this line and RAN with it and I for one am ✨thrilled✨
Would it be possible to see a Twi’lek!Reader who lives to serve Boba? he needed to take his anger out and she helps him? Please 🙏🏼 🤤
Okay, because you said please.😇 Wait no further. I absolutely appreciate your patience with me, nonny(I know it's been forever please forgive me😭). Not to mention the way my stomach DROPPED when I got this request. You are a mastermind and Boba has had me shook since I first saw Empire Strikes Back all those years ago. I, by no means, view myself to be a proficient writer as my art often takes priority, but I am about to put my whole author-ussy into this one.
Third Degree 💘
Pairing: Daimyo Boba x F!Togruta Reader
Warnings (18+): smut, some rough handling, liberated from slavery, minor character deaths, subtle leather kink, blood, drinking alcohol, PinV, unprotected sex, impact play, biting, fingering, finger sucking, creampie.
Summary: With a new Daimyo in town, he’s wasting no time in enacting his royal decrees, and that includes the division of the palace’s property belonging to the prior ruler; including you.
Read on ao3 - 6.5k words
Writing Masterlist - My kofi✨
“Next.” The commanding voice calls, echoing from the throne room. He sounds annoyed and you freeze, unable to take a step forward from where you stand at the top of the long, curved stairway. You’ve been shuffled through countless dictatorships, barely scraping by the previous reign only to be thrust into the next one. You’re bound by the neck, wrists and ankles as the heavy chains drag your posture down to a deplorable slump. A pair of Gamorreans each have their fist tightly coiled around a set of your steel leads. One acknowledges the voice at the bottom of the stairs, turns to the second and is momentarily displeased with your reluctance to walk. In conjunction, their forceful yank on your lead nearly gives you whiplash with how powerful a simple flick of their wrist could inflict.
Stumbling to the dusty palace floor, no matter how many times they knock you down, you never get used to the feeling of your perpetually bruised knees scraping across the unforgiving stone. The Gamorreans grumble and laugh at your indecency, looking down at you with their gluttonous, rotund bodies making you feel ever smaller. The scent of their pungent body odor stings your nostrils, and the burning brings a tear to your eye. Even without understanding a lick of their hog-like language, you can clearly surmise they’re talking about you, laughing at you. One of them even traces the tear falling down your cheek and feels pride in causing you pain, but they don’t know that it’s because you’re trying to resist the urge to vomit on their bare toes, lest you receive a worse punishment. You slap the dirty, sausage-fingered hand away from your face and the voice calls again. You rise to your feet. “I said next! I haven’t got all damn night!”
You and your chaperones, for lack of a better word, make the dreary trek down the carved staircase. With the help of the collar, you crane your neck downward, hanging your head so that your eyes are concealed by the ridiculous beaded headdress they fastened to your cranium, jingling like bells as if you’re nothing more than an object to be decorated.
Your eyes remain glued to the floor as you watch the stairs transition to the flat throne room layout. Looking between the variations of footsteps imprinted on the thick buildup of sand, you can usually assume the types of people you would expect to be dealing with. Surprisingly, there seems to be a heavy presence of troopers of some kind as the majority of the prints are from the soles of boots and not bare feet or soft soled shoes. Has the empire made its way here once more?
“What’s the matter with you?” Before you even make it to the center of the room to be displayed like an item for sale, this new Daimyo halts the Gamorreans with an authoritative order. This is the first shred of humanity you’ve been graced with since you were forced to be kept behind these towering walls as property of the establishment and your first instinct is that it’s a ruse, immediately not trusting its tender concern announced through furious intolerance. “Get those off her. Now.”
You recoil away from the brutish pair, both clenched fists beneath your chin with your arms bent protectively in front of your chest. One of the Gamorreans strongly dislikes this display of yours as you’re woefully preventing him from fulfilling his orders. He pulls you forward forcibly by the lead. He raises his arm to strike you in a backhanded fashion and you flinch, prepared for the blow to land as you’ve felt many instances before. However, in the milliseconds it takes for him to swing, a singular illuminated bolt disrupts the air in the room with a fortified punch, a blaster whining from the throne’s direction.
You’re frozen in fear for who might have absorbed the shot, but no one falls. Warily looking up for the first time, your eyes focus on the pillar of smoke wafting from a charred perfect circle creating a window at the top of the Gamorrean’s cone shaped helmet. Judging by the way they’re trembling; this new Daimyo does not tolerate your mistreatment and you’re starting to think this isn’t a ruse after all.
A man clad head to toe in beskar is at the edge of his ornately decorated seat atop the elevated throne. The deep green hue of the plates encapsulates him within an armored exoskeleton accented with bright orange and dark red as his pistol’s barrel is still alight with evidence of discharge. You recognize the “T” visor as a trademark of a Mandalorian. You’ve only heard of them as legends, one of the most renowned being Boba Fett as this used to be his old stomping ground alongside Jabba. Alas, that was well before your time. If this man is anything like him, you’re hopeful to assume that he is one of respect, morality and most importantly, honor.
“Unhand her immediately.” His voice is slightly warped by his modulator, turning his inflection downward and intimidating. Petrified of this mysterious man’s impeccable aim, the Gamorreans save face and scurry to their posts without bothering to unlock your shackles, flanking the entrance you had just emerged from to await further instruction. “Step forward please, dear. It’s alright.”
Ferociously dehydrated and nervous, you swallow harshly in your dry throat. The lack of visibility of his eyes keeps you on your guard. You can usually judge a person’s intentions with you by where their eyes land on your polychromatic body. Your skin is a vibrant shade that falls between golden yellow and fiery orange with deep carmine markings and pale accents. The “uniform” they’ve kept you in for years is a poor excuse for a swimsuit if it can even be called that. Except, instead of being made out of stretchy, breathable material, you’re imprisoned in your very own cage of garments that dig into your flesh. Serendipitously, your only encouraging outlook on this attribute was that you’ve grown calluses where previous blisters and bruises used to be. This man can sense the trepidation in your hesitant motions. You remain clinging to the chains now dangling from your neck to the floor, prepared to use them as weapons if you must.
He rises from the throne, armor singing as he stands and scrapes against the surface. You flinch again at this sudden movement, and he stops himself, approaching you as if he would coax a wounded animal to accept his aid. You choose not to take another step, waiting for him to close the distance. He does, slowly and cautiously, taking each step more calculated than the last. Once descended, you keep your head downturned as you’ve been trained to do so, refusing to even attempt finding his eyes behind that visor. The closer he gets, you can hear him subtly hum at you, but not in the usual objectifying hum you’re used to hearing. This is a hum of rage.
The man nods disapprovingly and reaches into one of his many pouches fastened to his waist belt and takes out a compact ring with shackle keys. “I’m going to take these off now. Is that alright?”
Lifting your chin so that he can access the constraints, you give yourself a headache straining to avoid his eyes. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as he hovers ever so gently trying consciously hard to not touch you. Relief overcomes you as each hefty shackle and string of chains is discarded into a pile at your feet. Momentarily closing your eyelids in bliss, you bask in the glory that is finally being rid of the weight that’s done nothing but chain you down physically and psychologically for many years. You’re rubbing out the discomfort from your neck and wrists when his eclipsing shadow being cast on you creeps up to your eyelids and you’re made painfully aware of how close he really is.
Both eyes fly open, and you want to backpedal, but you feel a gloved hand at the small of your back stopping you from moving, or more accurately, tripping over the pile of restraints. “Easy there, princess.” He says softly, the words landing as delicately as he holds you. “How’s that feel? Better?”
“B-better.” You manage to croak the word through cracked lips at the same time a heavily armed woman enters the space. She’s dressed in all black with accents of orange as well, carrying various rifles, blaster pistols and cache boxes of ammunition. She finds your line of sight and raises a brow in amusement before returning to whatever it is she’s doing.
“New toy?” The woman remarks about you with a chuckle and the man says nothing, releasing his hold after stabilizing you and only turning his head to face his helmet in her direction, glaringly vexed by her commentary. “Apologies…”
She corrects herself with a humored smile without even a hint of fearing for her life. No one is making a move to execute her where she stands. Would this suggest that they’re associates of some sort? Maybe even equals?
“Fennec, postpone my remaining appointments and run a bath for our new guest in my chambers. Have the kitchens prepare supper. I need to have a chat with my guards for a moment.” The man raises an arm and waves once. She nods gracefully and offers you her hand, gloved in soft but worn leather as well. As you walk with her, you look over your shoulder to see the Daimyo step closer to the pair of Gamorreans that had ample tenure tormenting you, ordering them both to their knees before the sight is blocked by a corridor Fennec has led you through.
You know your way around these halls well enough and end up leading Fennec to the main chambers as she’s still learning the layout of this labyrinthine palace. “If not for you, I would have gotten lost on the way.”
“I’ve been here long enough, I could probably build an exact replica, not that I would want to...” You shrug, stomach slightly churning in anticipation of being up here again. Being cleaned and fed often comes at a cost. You’re not looking forward to seeing that armored man again, at least until you get some more information. “So… what does that guy want with me?”
“Well, Boba’s the kind of person to always lend a hand to someone in need, and you seem to fit the bill this time around.” Fennec opens the door to the Daimyo’s chambers, and you recognize all the gaudy embellishments have been removed, giving the interior design a much more tranquil and less pretentious ambiance. The balcony doors are open letting the cool dusk breeze in and the sky is just barely forming a darkened gradient of colors to welcome the coming night as the Twin Suns fall past the horizon.
“Wait… Boba? As in Fett?” You question Fennec in disbelief.
“Is there any other?” Fennec responds sarcastically, a smug look on her face. “He’s presiding over Mos Espa and Tattooine now. What, have you been living under a rock?”
“I’m a slave.” You scoff. “I don’t exactly get exclusive access to current events.”
“Well, it’s a good thing those days are over.” Fennec opens another set of double doors to the refresher room. A nearby cabinet has various pairs of clean clothes of different sizes, and she retrieves a set and puts it on a nearby countertop before turning the knobs to allow the crisp, clean water to flow into the large basin. “These clothes should fit you fine. How do you like your bath? Lukewarm? Hot? Scalding?”
“Can I do it?” The question is pathetic, as if at this point you wouldn’t be allowed to do anything you want. You’re in shock at this revelation of who your savior is, but the conditioning you’ve suffered thus far makes controlling your bath water temperature the only amount of freedom you can handle for now.
“Go nuts.” Fennec sees the desperation in your eyes, not even able to imagine what you must be going through. With eyebrows knit in a look of solidarity, she softly smiles, squeezing your shoulder before heading out to close the door after her. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Alone once again, except this solitary moment is that of peace rather than isolation. You breathe in deeply, nearly letting your emotions flow just as easily as this faucet, but you hold it in a while longer. You begin to unclasp every piece of this cursed attire and toss it into a nearby bin to be thrown out with the rest of the palace’s refuse. The climb into the tub is gradual as your body acclimates to the warmth of the water. Nearby are some tin canisters of scented salts and dried herbs. Knowing you must smell like a bantha’s sty, you toss a handful of each into the water and let the aromatherapy work its magic.
After a long while of soaking, the arid desert climate that once dried your skin out has been completely rejuvenated. You’re tenderly massaging your lekku, rinsing the suds off as one of the butler droids in the palace’s employ comes barging into the room. You shrink yourself, hiding behind the frontmost wall of the tub while holding your breath under the water. You hear the droid let out a few muffled beeps and chirps followed by the angered yet familiar correctional voice of Boba telling it to respect your privacy and to leave whatever it brought you on the table in the main room, not where you’re currently bathing.
The doors slam shut, and you wait in silence for a second before emerging from the water. Taking advantage of the window of opportunity, you leap from the tub, splashing water on the floor as you race to dry off and get dressed. Before even thinking about leaving, you make note of the mess you made and drain the water while also collecting the puddle on the floor with the towel you used to dry yourself. Boba knocks once but you don’t respond, so used to people just walking in. He knocks again and asks, “Are you decent?”
“Yes.” You shortly and flatly call back. The puddle is only half cleaned, and you haven’t had time to rinse out the evidence of using the salts and herbs down the drain. You tightly wring the towel in your hands, frightened of discarding it elsewhere as Boba walks in.
“Were you trying to clean in here?” Boba asks, confused by your timid posture and state of disarray in the room.
“I’m sorry. I know I didn’t finish in time. I didn’t want you to see this mess and think I’m just-”
“Whoa, slow down, little one.” Boba’s visor is fogged up by the steam in the room and he opts to remove his helmet, setting it on the empty tub’s edge. His skin is a warm and welcoming shade of tan, albeit heavily scarred adding to his distinguished handsomeness. “We have droids for that. When I said you’re my guest, I meant it.”
Boba takes the towel from your hands, wiping his leathered palms clean with it. You notice a crimson residue soaking into the cloth, quite literally bleeding into the threads from where he swipes the discolored smudges off his gauntlets and chest plate. Locking eyes with you, he winks before wrapping an armored arm around your shoulders, opening the door to the chambers with the other. You see what it is that the droid had brought in, and your jaw practically drops to the floor with all the things on display.
Multiple crystal pitchers of flavored water, wine and juices line the center of the table. Surrounding the pitchers are various main courses of steaming hot dishes with desserts, nuts, cheeses and fruits lining the outside. Boba looks at you with a grin, beckoning you to enjoy yourself but notices the presence of your hesitation again. “Something the matter? Is it not to your liking? I can put a special request to the chefs if you’d prefer-”
“What do you want from me?” You interrupt him, all brightness and enthusiasm in your mood has reverted back into your standoffish guard, arms folded over your chest again.
“Absolutely nothing.” His umber eyes are sincere as you study them without the obstruction of the helmet in the way. “You’re free.”
“You mean, I can just leave?”
“If that is what you wish.”
“I… I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Then you are welcome to stay.”
He steps forward and pulls a chair away from the little dining table holding all the delectable cuisines. Your stomach’s churn switches from that of nervousness and trepidation to overbearing hunger and thirst. Accepting his seat, he pours you a refreshing goblet of flavored water with the essence of hydrating citrus and mint. Having been so parched, you gulp down the drink in no time flat, gasping for air from the now empty glass. Boba refills you, taking a seat at the opposite side of the table to fill his own glass with wine, holding out the pitcher to you but you don’t accept, at least not at first.
Boba loads his plate, spooning different foods and sauces and grilled meats onto it while preparing yours with all the same goods. He reaches over and places it in front of you and you can’t wait to dig in. He’s a man of few words and doesn’t pressure to fill the empty air with small talk. He allows you to eat as much as you like, offering you seconds and thirds of your favorites before moving on to the many tasty looking fresh baked desserts and fragrant ripe fruits.
You’re finally nearing the end of your meal, stuffed and pleasantly satisfied as you rise from the table to join Boba on the balcony overlooking the extensive city. You’re comfortable in these new clothes, cozy even. You feel safe here with him. Usually things like alcohol are forced upon you, but before joining Boba, you pour yourself a little after-dinner glass of the same wine he is drinking.
“I want to repay you for your mercy, your hospitality.” You break the silence, formally speaking to him as you would address any other Daimyo while periodically taking sips of the wine. It’s a delicious flavor, sweet but not overbearingly so with a hint of smokey, nuttiness. Exactly the type you would expect Boba to be partial to.
“Not necessary.” He sighs, certain and unyielding. “You’re your own citizen now.”
“I just want to maybe… show you how much I appreciate this good turn you’ve done for me.” You step closer, stroking your nails against the steel chest plate, but Boba stops your advances with a firm hand around your wrist.
“That’s really not required of you.” He is stern. A real no nonsense character, letting go of your wrist before creating distance between you again. “What I did for you does not require a transactional offering on your part. I was simply making a wrong thing right.”
“By killing them?” You can’t just pretend you didn’t see all that blood on the towel, small droplets still staining his beskar. Boba stands up straighter, removing himself from your personal space so that he can concisely explain himself.
“I gave them a choice and they didn’t choose wisely. I couldn’t risk your safety by letting them live.” He delivers that last word with a grimace. Boba’s frustration appears in clenched fists and protruding veins across his brow line. You’re not opposed to the fact he laid waste to scum like them, you’re just awestruck with the fact that he would do that for someone like you. “I will not possess you as the others have.”
“But, I’m serious about not having any prospects. No home, no family. All I know are these palace walls.” You degradingly admit, criminally sheltered for as long as you could remember.
“Hmm… Is that so?” Boba ponders the benefit of having someone who knows this place like the back of their hand.
“Can I be like your friend?” You propose.
“Fennec?” He’s taken aback. “You know how to fight?”
“Well…no.” You inch closer once again and rest a hand on his belt, venturing to move downward where you trace the outline of his groin. “But I can provide you with other services that still involve me holding a smoking barrel.”
Boba distances himself, stops you again as he nervously clears his throat, unsure if he’s sent you mixed signals. “I’ll not make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I would surmise that you’ve had enough of that already.”
“After a rescue like that, there’s no one else I’d rather do this for.” You add, further convincing Boba that you’re completely free and willing to participate in this arrangement.
“These services.” He clears his throat, voice falling into a deep resonance. “What variety are you suggesting?”
“The stress relieving kind.” Your body language ensures that Boba is making no mistake about what you’re implying. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even move away this time, allowing you to proceed as you please. It’s only then that you notice he’s completely stationary, fretful even. You pause to revert your focus back to his dark, serious eyes. Thinking proactively, you hoist yourself on the edge of the broad sandstone balcony so that you can enjoy the illusionary splendor of being technically taller than him. Boba’s eyebrows raise once more at this daring show of yours, softening from serious to slightly amused, not speaking yet.
“You know, Boba, it’s perfectly normal to be lonely sometimes.” You lean towards him, brushing your shoulder against his beskar pauldrons. You expected to feel a shiver ripple down your spine when in contact with his refined steel, but it’s almost as if his body heat has had time to radiate through all his layers. Boba lifts his chin in your direction, slowly slipping under your hypnotic spell. He parts his lips when you hover yours over them, desperate and willing to taste the wine on your tongue.
“H-how did you know that I’m lonely?” Boba whispers the words, as if ashamed to admit it.
“Anyone living their life the way you do would be.” Without letting him wait any longer, you delicately brush your lips against his. Boba breathes into it, holding the kiss for a moment as one of his hands comes up to grasp the space of your head where your lekku meet your nape. He strokes the skin gingerly and sweet, pulling you closer by the back of your neck.
Boba is the first to break contact, tucking his chin to press his forehead to yours while keeping you nearby. He soaks up this moment of silence with you until he notices that you’re unfastening the clasps in the front of your linen sleep shirt. “You don’t have to be lonely tonight. Or any night ever again.”
“I think you underestimate the amount of stress I have to deal with, princess.” Boba finishes your mission to take off your shirt, exposing you to the glorious starry sky before the trio of moons could illuminate the pitch black canopy. “If I’m reading this arrangement correctly, my requirement for relief will come at all hours… not just at night.”
Boba side-steps, parting your knees to nestle himself between your legs, pressing his chest against yours. The chills you expected to feel earlier come in full force when that steel plate falls flush with your skin, even colder when you’re hit with a high altitude breeze and you want nothing more than for him to pick you up and tackle you into the plush, warm bed. “Think you can handle that, little one?”
“Hey!” You playfully object. “I’m not that little.”
“To me you are.” Boba’s patience has worn thin, opting to lift you off the edge with his tremendously strong grip as you giggle in his grasp when he makes you feel practically weightless. With both arms wrapped around his neck, you’re hoisted with your thighs laying along the length of his forearm bracers, his hands possessively grabbing fistfuls of what he’s about to make his. He traces the curvature of your glutes with his fingers, drawing a full picture through your clothes to appease his imagination. His prickly stubble grazes your chest just mere inches from your nipples and you pull him closer, smothering him with your breasts.
He groans into the softness of each perky mound, his mouth opening again to lick and suckle on your skin. You caress the back of his head while moaning in bliss as his tongue explores your sweet, clean essence. He plants kisses up your throat and along your collar bones as he walks you over to the bed, careful enough to navigate seamlessly the whole way there.
Tossing you down, you bounce against the sheets, pillows catching air for a second beside your head as Boba hurriedly begins to remove all portions of his armor. The mechanical clicking and whirring of his computerized features audibly sound off upon removal. You watch as Boba takes off every piece and proudly places them upon a minimalistic mannequin made more for safe keeping rather than ostentatious advertisement until he’s wearing nothing but his tasteful black textile flight suit. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, Boba approaches the edge of the bed and takes shimmies out of his traditionally pleated shirt, letting it fall off his shoulders to further show his battle worn torso. He’s marked significantly with scar tissue, curves and lines and shiny burned patches, you couldn’t even fathom what could have possibly caused so much damage. It isn’t until you hear his voice you realize you’ve been caught staring. “Do I… disturb you?”
“What? No! Of course not!” You speak up, waving your palms at him as a sign of sincerity. “I’m sorry. I was only admiring.”
“Admiring huh?” Boba looks himself over, flexing his muscles when he brings his arms forward for inspection. “You like this?”
He advances by resting a knee on the bed, not yet climbing on but awaiting your response. He sees the way your eyes brighten up when he’s teasing, allowing you to control the pacing of this exchange. “Very much so, yes.”
Boba lifts his other knee onto the bed and crawls towards you. His brawny weight displaces the cushions and rocks you back and forth a little, adding more flutters to your already volitant heart. With you both shirtless, he supports himself on his palms as you move yourself into laying down on your back. “What about this?”
As he beckons that question, he leans in to kiss your neck again, dragging the tip of his tongue across your jaw while he parts your legs with his. He decides to test your mettle and see how you react when one of his kisses is actually a short series of nibbles gradually forming a fierce love bite.
Unable to properly enunciate, you loudly gasp when his teeth clench around your flesh, letting your moans act as confirmation as his mouth makes its way to yours. You straddle his waist, interlocking your ankles behind his back and Boba’s enthusiasm spikes. His tongue enters your mouth, fighting with your own as you both struggle to remove each other’s bottom half of clothing. Boba hooks your shorts with a couple of fingers and strips them off your legs while you loop his waistband with your big toe and extend your leg to pull them down.
He rubs his groin against yours with a swivel of his hips, stroking your center with his scorching hot length that’s been begging to be freed since you both were still at the balcony. He’s far bigger than you expected, not that you weren’t totally convinced Boba was incredibly well endowed. You just could have never predicted he was blessed that well. Using the slick moisture you’ve accumulated between your thighs, you grab hold of his shaft and begin stroking it energetically, paying careful attention to his bulbous tip with fun little swipes across it. All the while he’s letting you feel him, he’s playing with your swollen bud at the cusp of your leaking center, poking and prodding a girthy finger inside between savory swipes of your sensitivity.
Boba breaks the kiss, gasping for breath when you milk his cock for its initial dribbles of precum and mix it with your arousal, adding to the smooth gliding of your palm against him. He joins his forehead with yours a second time, sharing your breath as you both pleasure each other. His eyes open and he takes you in, half-lidded and slack jawed while still hovering closely. You’re glowing under the warm candlelight as the flames cast their shine on your blazing skin and he’s careful not to crush your lekku, pushing them out of his way each time he adjusts. His fingers disappear past your amber skin and you arch into his hand, whining as he drives himself deeper and deeper.
Boba straightens his back, sitting on his knees to watch your euphoric expressions as he slowly retrieves his fingers from your throbbing pussy, loving to see you wriggle and writhe before he puts the same pair of digits into his mouth to lick them clean. You’re stunned by his ability to make you feel more than wanted. He’s patient, involved, focused on nothing but you.
Once finished tasting you, his smile grows in size as well as mischief when he halts your stroking to spiritedly flip you over onto your stomach. Boba runs his hands down your back, both thumbs pointed at your spine and you feel your muscles decompress with every pass. His hands travel lower and lower, massaging the meat of your ass and even your thighs while you remain spread out on your stomach.
Just when you’re falling into a state of relaxation you’ve never known before, Boba lifts one of his hands in the air and collides it sharply with your right cheek. It’s not enough to hurt, but enough to urge you to arch upwards into the slap, non verbally begging for more as you groan loudly into the pillows.
“You like this too, eh princess?” Boba raises his left hand now, crashing it down on the opposite cheek and you yelp when it makes contact. He continues, alternating between each hand to hear you emit a melody of moans and vocalizations. You can’t wait a second more, positioning your knees beneath you to put your ass further in the air.
“Please, just fuck me already...” You sway your hips in offering and Boba accepts, anchoring one hand on your left hip while the opposite is guiding his tip into you. Opening you up, he parts your walls gradually as you feel his girth spread you inch by gratifying inch. The realization of who you’re sharing this intimate exchange with hits you in a second wind and a swarm of quivering butterflies disrupts your stomach. You sing your song of pleasure through wanton breaths and gasping mewls with every thrust Boba administers. In tandem with your wondrous music, he plants a persistent cadence of groans and grunts, gaining ferocity.
“You’re remarkable, princess.” Boba reaches around and manages to pull another orgasm from you with consistent and circular pressure applied to your bulbous bud while not even slacking in thrusts. Your limbs tense up and you’re unable to tame the staggering rapture that throttles through you. Boba takes the strain off you by pushing you harder into the bed, likewise, holding you in place while reducing the effort required to keep yourself up. Your face is turned to the side to allow for a proper flow of breath with Boba securing a palm to the nape of your neck and the other gripping and squeezing tightly at your hip. Each line of Boba’s praising dialogue is uttered through quaking gruffness. “I love your beautiful voice.”
Unable to move in any other way than wobbling your hips, you absorb the shock of Boba’s pounding. You can tell he’s surprised by your involvement, releasing his grip on you and letting you do the work for him at times. His manly groans and grunts morph into breathless whimpers when you begin to throw it back as hard as you possibly can for him. As much as Boba loves seeing you taking charge, he’s not certain he can last much longer with the way you’re flailing beneath him. His hands stop your movement and holds you in place, resuming the same speed within his own thrusts so as to not disrupt his impending climax.
“Hold on tight, little one.” Boba’s voice is sultry and alluring as it is poured into your ears like honey. He speaks to you with prudence, stroking your back in a loving fashion just as things are kicked into high gear. You grab fistfuls of the sheets in hopes that it would keep you from moving too much, but Boba’s slamming into you at a pace that is impossible to keep up with. You’re dizzy with the constant and vigorous motion, cross-eyed with a crooked grin plastered on your face as he repetitively drives himself into your wet, pillowy crevices. He’s feeling every part of you with worshipful affection while squeezing your ripples of flesh and letting out robust exhaled grunts.
Suddenly, Boba slumps over you. His face finds its way into the crook of your neck after he methodically lifts your face from the bed with a swift motion of his palm cupping your chin. You whine when his middle finger finds its way into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it so that you can bite down every time Boba slams himself against your ass. With his body weight laid completely across you, he’s compressed you in a pleasure filled prone position. His thrusts falter as he finishes inside you, claiming you as his with more bites to your back and shoulders while the gushing between your thighs pours out and onto the topmost sheet in a warm, delicious ooze.
Boba doesn’t stop there. Keeping you laid down, he raises your hips off the bed a little more while adjusting his posture to accommodate for watching it gush out of you. He’s lifted himself off you, sitting on his knees again to pull himself completely out, watch it drip, then shoving his still erect cock back inside, groaning through drool coated lips each time he does so. He’s watching the milky white glaze flow from your bergamot skin like a decadent dreamsicle, sweet and creamy.
You’ve lost count of the cycles of ravishment he’s put you through, dazed and unable to move on your own accord. Boba exits you, allowing you to finally rest and catch your breath. He gets off the bed and retrieves a blue satin robe and a clean towelette from a nearby drawer before returning back at your side. He mindfully flips you over on your back and away from the messy puddle you both created. Using the towelette, he wipes you clean and thoroughly and takes the topmost sheet off the bed, leaving you with the quilted comforter and other fur-woven throw blankets. After cleansing himself, Boba climbs back into bed with you, noticing just how exhausted you really were when he sees you about to doze off. “Sleepy, little one?”
“I think all that food is finally catching up to me.” You mumble as he pulls you onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you so that you may sleep while listening to his heartbeat.
“You and I both, princess.” He chuckles, causing your head to slightly rattle with his laughter. “You and I both.”
The tired burn in your dry eyes has finally been satiated once you’ve closed them for good tonight. Boba’s breath tickles your lekku in a way that’s as soothing as a person running their fingers through someone else’s hair. It causes you to fall asleep much faster than you usually do, completely skipping the episodes of existential dread and inescapable fear. Your dreams are pleasant, full of sunshine and flowers, a lapping ocean and the smell of flora native to Ryloth. You’re unsure how he did it, but Boba’s kindness has psychologically teleported you to a time before you knew what suffering was; before you became imprisoned on Tattooine. If you were awake right now, you’re sure you would weep.
The chirp of a comm device interrupts the few hours of deep slumber you gained. The room is darkened save for the rays of light rippling in the curtains emitting from the brilliant moons outside. Boba reaches over to grab the device, stopping it from resounding any more beeps thinking it’ll disturb you, not knowing you’ve been up since the first chirp.
You play along with his sweet gestures, not knowing a compassion such as this before. He lifts your arm by the wrist and lays the limp appendage at your side. Careful not to make you fall with his displacement, he moves one of the fluffy pillows where he was laying for you to rest on. Boba wraps himself in the satin robe and tip-toes to freshen himself up and you hear the faucet turn on behind closed doors. In the time it takes him to shower, you nearly fall asleep again, stirring when he reemerges. He doesn’t notice you got startled so you keep your eyes closed, feigning sleep a little while longer. You watch him suit up, taking special care of each and every aspect of his armor just as he has with you. He’s a thoughtful, measured individual and you couldn’t be happier here in this tower with someone you actually want to be with.
“I’m on my way.” He discreetly responds to a feminine voice on the other line, you correctly assume it to be Fennec. He treads stealthily, silent as each footfall is completely inaudible. You watch him make his way towards the exit door with his back turned to you. With his helmet under one arm, he reaches for the door handle and pulls it open. But before he could take a single step outside, you perk up in the bed with the comforter wrapped around you like an impromptu sleeveless dress.
“Not even a goodbye kiss?” You rub one of your eyes, drowsy and missing him already.
“Dear princess, I thought you were fast asleep.” Boba answers, no longer feeling the need to whisper.
“I’m a light sleeper.” You shrug. “Been up since before the shower.”
Boba walks towards you, grasps your chin to get a better look at your golden eyes shining in the moonlight and then pets your head. He trails the same hand down the lekku on your left and begins to lean.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you.” Boba bends over to kiss your forehead and then your lips. “But you should go back to sleep. I’m expecting you to be ready to go again when I return at first light.”
It's time for the Daimyo to confront Kamino and do some SHARING with our Tea Shop Owner. He's starting to get the hang of it! Also, cuddles in tight spaces. LET'S GOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Pairing: Boba Fett x Tea Shop Owner! reader
Word Count: 564
previous chapter. series master list
“Is there any land at all?”
After all this time, Kamino still loomed large in Slave 1’s windshield. First as Boba Fett circled the slate blue planet from orbit and now as he skimmed it’s unending, turbulent ocean, lightening flashing against the helmet’s visor. He still dreamed of the place sometimes—usually watching his father fly away. Every so often though, they were of Jango Fett coming home.
“When I lived here, there were a few stilt facilities above the surface with many cities below. But I read that, eons ago, Kamino was once a jewel of lush green and clear, calm seas. I don’t know why it became this.” His low, measured voice was staticky through the helmet. “Kaminoan history was not part of my education.”
He’d prepared for this while you’d peacefully slept on the travel mattress on the floor of the ship’s bed vestibule, spent and nestled under his arm. The tiny space was a challenge, but one eagerly explored.
Boba had barely thought of Kamino itself since the last time he’d been there as part of his childhood’s failed plot to take down Mace Windu. But, because he’d rashly decided to show you his birthplace, he’d looked it up on the data pad and learned that Tipoca City and the other surface facilities had been destroyed. He’d let out a long, conflicted sigh and you’d stirred.
“Dreams?”
“You should get more sleep.”
“Well, now I’m awake and we’re only a couple hours away, Daimyo. Have any ideas on to pass that time?” You’d stretched and winked, allowing the blank to slip away.
“Several things."
Slave 1 swept along the waves, dodging lightning. There was nothing here. Despite the endless water, Kamino seemed like some kind of hell compared to Tatooine. A particularly violent lightning bolt struck far too close to the ship and you slammed your eyes shut with a yelp.
“I think I’m ready to leave.” Your eyes were still closed.
But he saw something in the distance; something that rarely happened on this turbulent seascape and would not last long. He flew toward it, ship bursting through the breaking clouds.
“Look, little one. The sun is out.”
You obliged and gasped. The clouds had thinned into fluffs and lacy whips, allowing a sapphire sky to see a calm ocean. In the distance, the sun’s edge touched the horizon, its light throwing steaks of pink and orange and violet into the clear sky and waters around it.
“This may be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” you marveled. “Other than you, of course.”
Boba Fett was silent, staring ahead at the sight he’d only seen a few times. Always alone when stealing a shuttle from Tipoca City those times his father was away.
“Boba?” You laid your hand over his on the console. “Wanna get out of here?”
He removed the helmet and regarded your reflection in the windshield; your face glowed from the sunshine and its glittery dance along the ocean.
“More than anything.”
Slave 1 turned to the biggest blue break in the clouds and, as soon as the atmosphere was breeched, went into the stretch of hyperspace.
“I’m not quite ready for Cloud City,” he said, eyes meeting yours in the reflection.
“I’ll go anywhere as long as you’re there.”
“Well, my kair’ta,” he kissed your palm. “We’ll need to buy you a coat.”
At long last, I am returning with chapter seven of Moth to a Flame! I always wanted to dive back into this story, and I’m happy to say I am already writing chapter eight as we speak! It’s gonna be a good one hehehe. This is still one of my favorite series I’ve written, and I want to finish it as strong as it began. It’s a chunkier chapter, partially to make up for my absence, I hope you all enjoy!
TW: healing from injuries, cannon typical violence, minor character death, mentions of trauma (alluded PTSD), fluff, teasing, foreplay, dom Boba, sub reader.
Also, here’s the link to the masterlist in case you want to re-read the previous chapters to catch up!
Moth to a Flame Chapter Seven
For once, you awoke from a dreamless slumber.
No nightmares jarring you awake with a pounding heart. No bloodied images burning the back of your mind. You felt nearly at peace emerging from sleep…but upon opening your eyes, you yet again found yourself in a strange room.
Except this time, the bed was incredibly soft.
It was much plusher than your own, a luxury you never had afforded. Despite your immediate instinct to panic, your surroundings were strangely welcoming. Peaceful, even. It felt like a dream. A night and day difference from the sterilized durasteel walls of the Imperial shuttle you’d been trapped in.
Clay, earthen walls greeted you instead, framed by shimmering silken curtains that caught in the desert breeze, curling through the air with a delicate grace that drastically contrasted the harshness of Tatooine. Warm notes of sandalwood and amber filled the air, reminding you of Boba’s scent. The suns hung midway in the sky, the blistering afternoon heat appearing to set them even further aflame.
Tatooine. You were back.
Relief blossomed in your chest, and you relaxed, uncurling your fists and taking a deep breath. Your body was stiff, sore from your ordeal, but you’d honestly expected so much worse. A part of you had assumed that you would die in that shuttle by Sterling’s hand. Fate however, clearly had different plans.
Somehow, Boba had found you, and had brought you back home.
Home…
“Let’s go home.”
You remembered what he’d said before he’d carried you away from the ghosts of your past. He must have taken you to the palace. The architecture spoke of wealth and prestige, something you rarely saw in the Outer Rim. Oddly, you felt no fear at the prospect, but it did leave you with a question.
What would your future look like now?
Your gaze wandered the expansive room, lingering on a large bacta tank near the center, before sweeping to the other side of the bed…finding Boba Fett sitting in a chair across from you, fast asleep.
He was still donned in his armor, and his helmet sat at his feet - allowing you to make a most profound realization.
The Daimyo of Tatooine looked absolutely breathtaking when he finally rested.
The hard planes of his face were somehow softer, lips in less of a frown, brows not so heavily furled. His scars were the same, not that such a thing could ever bother you - considering that you found them striking - but there was a softness to him that you hadn’t seen when he was awake. Granted, you couldn’t call it peaceful. You saw the tension in his jaw, the way his eyelids were pressed shut, in the subconscious twitch of his lip. You wagered he’d wake at the softest sound, the life of a hunter never forgotten.
You wanted to help him find peace, if such a thing were even possible. That was, if he still wanted you.
Would he try to push you away after what happened? You remembered the hesitation that flooded his gaze once the ferocity left, leaving a fearful pause in its wake. He’d been afraid…afraid you’d fear him. That you’d no longer love him.
But did he actually know you loved him?
Did he know that when he killed to defend you, he was bringing your abuser to justice? Did he realize exactly how much that meant to you? He’d protected you, defended your honor, and ensured you’d never be touched by that vile man again. In a way, Boba had freed you from the last connections to your past, allowing you to finally forge a new future.
You had to tell him.
You shifted, turning to your side with a grimace so you were facing him, the covers rustling over you as you did so. Surely that would be enough…
Relief blossomed in his amber gaze, followed by a warmth that made your heart sing. There was undeniable love there - you saw it. Felt it in the way he looked at you. Devotion too, something that was entirely foreign to you. It made the warmth in your chest rise to a near blaze, the desire to voice your thoughts all the more urgent. When he spoke your name, it was a mere whisper, near reverent.
“Mesh’la,” his voice was lacking the usual roughness, instead it was soft, hesitant, as if he was awaiting your reaction. “You’re safe…”
“Boba,” you tried to speak, wincing when a sharp pain jabbed down your throat. Confusion flooded your chest, and you frowned, trying your best to push through it, determination driving every syllable. “I…”
“Careful, little one,” he swiftly stood, moving to your side, the hesitation seemingly gone. His dark brows lowered, concentration and concern flickering in his gaze. “The bacta is still healing your wounds. Should recover soon.”
In any other situation, seeing him looming over you, donned in full armor, while you were lying in bed, would have been a major turn on. It still was, you noted, not ignorant of the heat that crept up your neck and to your cheeks. But your injuries…exactly how badly wounded were you?
You lifted a tentative hand to your neck, feeling the bandages wrapped over your skin. They were fresh, keeping the bacta flush with your skin, letting it do its healing work. Oh, that was right…you’d yet again been subjected to those hellish Imperial devices…you closed your eyes, swallowing hard. Images of the sterile, soulless rooms and pale walls sent a shudder down your spine, but you shook your head, reminding yourself that you weren’t there. That you’d never be there again.
“Easy there,” a thumb brushed your cheek, and you opened your eyes, finding Boba’s gaze on you, a concerned but caring softness waiting. You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his fingers grounding you to this new reality. “They won’t hurt you ever again. I promise.”
You nodded, a sigh rushing from your lips when his thumb caressed your jaw. The simple gesture nearly moved you to tears - the same hands that spilled blood and ended lives now cradled you with more gentleness than you’d ever known.
“My brave, sweet girl.” He watched you with unbridled admiration, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, eyes never looking away. You leaned into him, a hand hooking to his chest plate, wanting to feel him close.
“This alright?” His words rumbled through you as much as you heard them, and you nodded, clinging to him tighter. He chuckled when you shifted as much as your pain would allow, your head resting in his lap. He raised a knee to prop you up against, and you relaxed against his solid frame.
“I…” you swallowed, taking a deep breath. He fell silent, waiting, giving you all the space you needed to speak. It was refreshing, to have someone be patient. To give you all the time in the world. “I need…to tell you something.”
The briefest hint of a shadow passed through his gaze, so fast you might not have seen it, had you not been paying attention. But you always did, just as much as he.
Was he afraid you’d reject him?
Despite whatever fears were running through his mind, he simply nodded, remaining silent, still waiting. Perhaps he felt it was best this way, to allow you the space and freedom to let him down easy. But that was exactly the opposite of the truth.
“You’ve…been more than I’ve ever known. Protected me. Saved me. You’re,” you softly cleared your throat, and he lifted a glass of water to your hands. You gratefully drank, handing it back to him once you’d finished. “Everything I’ve ever dreamed for, but never thought I’d find. I…love you, Boba. I’ve been afraid. Afraid you wouldn’t feel the same, but…I’m not afraid anymore.”
Boba’s entire expression shifted from one of worry and masked apprehension to shock, then elation. His brows lifted, plush lips parting ever so slightly. Maker, he looked divine. You’d never wanted to kiss him more than now, in this moment.
“You…really mean that?” There it was, the rough gravel in his tone, soothing your nerves and sending warmth to your very bones.
“I do,” you smiled up at him, hoping he felt your sincerity in every word. “I mean it with all my heart.”
“Oh, sweet girl, that’s good,” his voice grew even huskier as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his warm breath washing over your skin. “Because I love you too. Don’t ever wanna let you go.”
“I’m yours, Boba,” your blinked back tears, happy ones, for once, craving his presence, his closeness. “For as long as you’ll have me.”
“Ad’ika, I’m forever yours,” he pressed another kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, making his way closer to your lips. “Thought I’d lost you.”
“I knew you’d find me,” you gasped when he pressed a kiss to your pulse point. “I always believed…”
“Of course I’d find you, babygirl,” he kissed your jawline, resuming his journey to your lips. “Always will.”
When he kissed you, it was slow, reverent, all encompassing. You leaned into the kiss, breath snagged from your chest as he took control, cradling your head in his hands. He deepened the kiss, and it became more hungry, nearly desperate, as if he was showing you all of what he wanted to say. His fingers loosely gripped your hair, careful to mind your injuries, leaning even closer to gently hold you against him.
When you both finally parted, you were a panting mess, heart pounding, eyes wide. Damn, you’d missed him.
He went to shift away, and you whimpered, too desperate for his closeness to be ashamed. He chuckled, looking down at you with a smirk and a raised brow.
“Boba, I need-“
“Rest.” His tone grew firm, still layered with fondness, the twinkle in his eyes never dimming. “You need rest. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”
You couldn’t help but love the subtle dominance in his words and actions, the comforting yet solid way he guided you. The promise of the future, a future you’d never known was possible. It was new, so different from what you’d known, but kriff, you loved it. So, you simply nodded, trying your best to save your voice.
“Good girl,” his rumbled praise sent heat spiraling to your core, and you swallowed, gripping him tighter.
Good girl.
Kriffing Maker above, that was hot. And here he was telling you to rest? A furious blush crept to your cheeks, and you knew he saw. Could tell by the gleam in his eyes that clearly showed he did indeed notice, and absolutely was cataloging that information for the future.
“Can you…” you took a breath, finding yourself wishing you could will your body to heal by sheer determination alone. “Can you lay with me? I want…”
“I’ll hold you, little one,” he chuckled, giving you another kiss. “Gotta take this armor off, okay?”
You nodded, and he helped you shift back so your head was resting on the pillow again. You watched as he removed every piece of beskar, mesmerized as the man emerged from the shield that protected him from the world. It was an intimate experience, knowing that he felt safe enough with you to do so, a treasure you’d never take for granted.
When he settled under the covers beside you, the bed depressing from his weight, you snuggled closer, unashamed of seeking out his presence. You were rewarded by another warm chuckle, so very close to you, as his strong arms wrapped around your body, holding you close to his broad chest.
“I love you, ad’ika,” his voice was soft behind you, his fingers gently caressing you, lulling you to sleep. “Always.”
“I love you too,” you snuggled closer against him, and his arms held you just a bit tighter, as much as your injuries would allow. “So, so much.”
You couldn’t help but smile, feeling so warm, so safe, it nearly brought you to tears.
You were finally, at long last, home.
-
“You sure that thing isn’t gonna bite your fingers off?”
You glanced up from the nexu cub splayed in your lap at Fennec, who leaned against your kitchen counter. What was it with these bounty hunters lounging against your furniture? Not that you truthfully were complaining.
“She’s trained, don’t worry.” You shot at smirk at the assassin, gesturing at the ball of fur and teeth currently trying to steal your new necklace. “Didn’t take you for a cat hater, Fen.”
“I don’t hate cats.” She smirked, leaning against the wall with a sigh. “I hate getting bitten. Or scratched. Not my thing.”
You were about to issue a reply when a new voice interjected from behind Fennec.
“Discussing preferences, hmm? Stars help me if you two have already descended to ‘girl talk’.”
Boba’s familiar rasp made your heart leap, and you couldn’t wipe the dumb smile from your face when he stepped around Fennec, helmet tucked at his side. His eyes found yours, a playful gleam twinkling there, and you dipped your head in a blush.
“Well now that you’re back, I’ll leave the ‘babysitting’ to you.” Fennec headed toward the door, shooting a smile back at you. “Don’t get captured again, you still owe me a drink. And you’d better visit that rancor, he misses you like crazy.”
You laughed as she exited, gaze shifting back to Boba in all his armored glory. Damn, he looked so good in his beskar. You’d never get enough of it. The sheer power he exuded alone was enough to make your head spin.
“Glad you’re still in one piece, princess,” he allowed a smile to curve his lips, before turning his gaze to sweep your living room. “Though I would prefer for everyone to be at the palace.”
Oh, you knew what he was implying. Boba had been so focused on your recovery as of late, that ensuring you were rested and healing was his priority. His protectiveness simply made your heart melt.
“Don’t worry, Fennec’s been the best body guard. I will, I just have to get them ready for the trip,” you scratched the nexu’s chin, grinning when she purred and leaned into your touch. “Not to worry. I’ll have everything packed and-“
Boba chuckled with a distinctly dark cadence, stepping forward until he was towering over your seated figure.
“Don’t play coy with me, little one, you’re not moving anything.” He met your gaze with a gentle, yet firm, smile. “You need your rest. I’ll oversee the transportation myself.”
Healing, it turned out, took an agonizingly long time when all you wanted to do was to feel Boba’s hands on you.
It was nearly shameful, you thought, how often your mind locked on every lingering glance, every touch, every word spoken softly in the dark. It was enough to drive someone mad.
“Of course, my daimyo,” you made a dramatic show of a bow, as much as you could in your seated position, grateful you’d healed enough for the motion. You even dared to shoot him a wink. “I won’t move a muscle.”
“Don’t be a brat,” a sharp smile curved the corner of his lip, something altogether dangerous darkening his gaze. “Be a good girl and you’ll be rewarded.”
There it was again.
Ever since he learned how much those two words affected you, he’d slip them into conversation when applicable, which just happened to be frequent enough to keep you in a constant state of desperation.
But judging by the sharpness of his expression, those amber eyes locked on you like a Vratixan blood eagle’s, there’d be no loophole in his orders. At the end of the day, he was the daimyo. The master hunter. And while you trusted him with your very breath, you never could forget who he was. Who he always would be. The deadliest and most powerful man, the stars at his fingertips - soft only for you.
And you were happily in his clutches.
“I…yes, sir,” you were nearly breathless when you finally spoke, dipping your head into the nexu’s fur in an attempt to mask your burning cheeks. “I’ll rest. I’m finally starting to feel more like myself again.”
“So my princess does have manners.” Boba knelt before you, a gloved hand reaching forward and lifting your chin to meet his probing gaze, grip gentle yet firm. “Good. Let’s get you back home. I’ll handle everything here.”
Home.
You were still getting used to that word. Because in truth, the home Boba spoke of wasn’t simply a new place you lived, but a person in which you felt at peace.
Boba had, in so many ways, proven your doubts and fears wrong time after time. He made a choice that none before him ever could.
He chose to stay.
-
“It’s only been a week, and you’re already bouncing off the walls.” Fennec lounged on one of Boba’s chairs, feet kicked up. She honestly looked a tad ridiculous, but you kept that thought to yourself…for now. “I don’t know how he managed to keep you bedridden for five days.”
You thought back to all of the tender moments, the concerned glances, the sweet words and care Boba had extended to you, and smiled.
It was both strange and sweet, really, to have someone of his strength and reputation doting over you. But you didn’t mind, the attention wasn’t unwelcome, merely something you were learning to accept. And ever since you both had admitted your feelings, there had certainly been a shift between you.
You thought he’d flirted and shown interest plenty before, but now?
There was a certain softness, yet protectiveness, dare you say possessiveness, in his words and deeds that simply made you swoon.
He held you every night, and caressed you every morning when you awoke.
“I gave him a run for his money, don’t worry.” You smirked and ran your fingers through your hair, noting with a smirk that it finally had regained its healthy sheen. “But he was insistent, as always. You know how he is.”
“Don’t I.” Fennec smirked and shot you a wink. You couldn’t help but smile. “Someone’s been getting her beauty sleep.”
You gazed at your reflection on the mirror, and smoothed a wrinkle on the flattering dress, a gift he’d bought you that had caught your eye. Black with curling dark green vines, it would match his armor perfectly. You did a quick spin, and couldn’t help but smile.
You looked stronger now. Healthier, more glow to your cheeks and life in your eyes. The bacta patches were gone, and even though there were fresh scars overlapping with your previous ones, the wounds were finally healed. You felt pretty in the dress, and despite the fact that your profession rarely called for them, it was a welcome change.
Boba had ensured your animals were given the upmost care, tended to by his best. You couldn’t wait to see them again, but for now, as you were just getting back on your feet, you allowed a moment to breathe.
“Something like that,” you turned to face her, finally feeling ready. Your rest had paid off, but you didn’t want to sit around any longer.
“I take it you want to see him?” Fennec stood, slinging her rifle over her shoulder.
“I would,” you smirked at her, inwardly relived you both got along so well. “I assume he’s working?”
“He’s holding court,” Fennec turned to usher you out, glancing back at you with a grin. “Don’t worry, your visit would make his day.”
-
The throne room was so crowded you nearly second guessed entering, panic locking your steps, but Fennec would hear none of it, confidently walking forward like she owned the place.
You both slipped through the back entrance to avoid the majority of the throng, and for safety measures of course, silent as Boba’s voice carried through the cavernous space.
You didn’t see him yet, only the stone back of the throne, but you could observe the bounty hunter standing before him. The man was thin and sheepish looking. Young. Even from your distance, you could tell he was angrily trying to make an appeal to the daimyo.
But that wasn’t what caught your attention.
Growing up, you’d heard horrific stories of Jabba’s palace. Tales of cruelty and debauchery that far surpassed any reason. Every local knew these stories, were warned that entering that throne room meant death. And sometimes…a fate far worse. Anxiety corded its way up your throat as you felt eyes falling upon you, and you folded your arms in front of your chest, immediately regretting your choice of clothing.
Fennec seemed to pay this no mind, gesturing for you to follow.
You did so, a slight tremor in your step, as you both slid to the far wall. Despite your residual fear, you reminded yourself that Jabba did not hold power now - Boba did. And you knew your lover would protect you, no matter what. You also were with Fennec, and fully capable of defending yourself. You would be alright. You took a deep breath and walked with confidence, head held high, gaze sweeping the room.
As you both made your way to the back, where you’d be out of the crowd’s sight, the man spoke, thin voice rattling against the stone walls.
“Who gave you the right, oh ‘mighty’ daimyo, to tell us what to do?” The bounty hunter was enraged, face flushed, hand dripping to his blaster. “You’re out of your prime, old man. Plenty of us could take you down. What gives you the right to rule over us?”
The room fell so deathly silent, one could hear a pin drop, tension hovering in the air. Your gaze was finally pulled to Boba, as if gravity itself demanded your rapt attention.
You swore to the stars your knees all but gave out on the spot. Cheeks furiously burning, you leaned your weight against the wall, eyes glued to the green armored man who held his court like a king.
You’d never seen such power on display.
Boba Fett sat upon the carved throne with a regal countenance and equally a relaxed confidence - sprawled like the very world was his footstool. His relaxed posture didn’t fool you, though, you knew he was too tactful. Too calculating. And right now, his T-visored helm was focused on the lesser hunter before him, the angle harsh and predatory, torchlight flaring on the beskar like shattered glass.
Your gaze dropped to his spread thighs, and altogether improper thoughts flooded your mind. You blinked, biting your bottom lip, heat settling between your legs as he shifted, muscles rippling underneath beskar and cloth, fingers tapping a steady cadence on the throne’s armrest.
Kriffing hells, that had no right being so hot.
Movement next to you broke your concentration, and you frowned as Fennec lifted her rifle’s scope to her eye.
“We should be able to hunt who we want. Sell spice if we please.” The hunter was still going, clearly unaware that he was spelling his doom. “And I-“
“Take it, then.” Boba’s voice rolled like the thunder before a devastating storm. His helm tilted to the left, and he raised a gloved hand, gesturing at the throne. “Think you’re worthy? See where it gets you.”
The man finally fell silent, fidgeting in place, hand dangerously close to his blaster. But he didn’t attack. You swore you saw the hunter’s face turn several shades paler when Boba unholstered one of his own blasters…laying it on the seat beside him.
The younger man still did nothing but gape, clearly expecting a trap, unsure of what to do.
“Admit your bluff. Walk away.” Boba still hadn’t moved, a nearly amused tone lilting in his voice. “And I’ll let you off with a warning.”
You knew that tone. The predator toying with his prey, giving him one final chance. It was hot. It wasn’t fair. But you weren’t so mindlessly turned on to not drop your hand to your own weapon, just in case.
The movement happened so fast you didn’t have the time to blink.
One second the man was lunging for the throne, blaster pointed at Boba…the next, he was dead before he struck the ground, a hole charred between his eyes.
Smoke curled from the barrel of Boba’s second blaster, wafting about him as he leaned back against the throne.
“Anyone else?”
Heads shook, feet shuffled away, and murmurs of shock rippled through the crowd. Not a single soul dared to raise another challenge. You watched him, unable to stop the smile from creeping to your face, as a pride for your daimyo filled your chest.
The dualities of Boba Fett were a myriad.
His helmet flicked toward you, and you felt as if your breath was caught in your throat. You were captured in his gaze, the weight of it nearly pinning you to the wall from the intensity you knew was burning in the eyes hidden behind the beskar.
“Good. As long as I am daimyo, spice has no place here.” He jerked his helmet toward the exit, gesturing at the crowd. “You’re all dismissed.”
The crowd quickly dispersed, needing no further bidding. They exited with whispers and silence, and soon, you and Fennec were the only two who remained.
“Fennec. Ensure everyone leaves the gates.” Boba hadn’t moved, still seated on the throne in all his glory. “I’ll not be disturbed.”
“Got it, boss.” Fennec needed no further bidding, shooting you a wink before lurking off into the darkness.
Silence fell so heavy, the tension so thick, you could’ve cut it with a vibroblade.
Boba was still watching you, helmet tilted slightly to the side, fingers ever so patiently tapping his thigh. You swallowed, transfixed under his gaze, nearly holding your breath with anticipation.
“Come here, little one.” His voiced rumbled through you, sending shivers down your spine. “No more hiding in the shadows.”
Your body moved to obey before your mind could fully catch up, heart hammering in your chest as you crossed the sandy floor, approaching your king. You stopped before the throne, toes bumping against the steps, regarding him with unbridled awe - dryly swallowing when he shifted his thighs further apart.
“I’ll not be kept waiting, mesh’la.” Boba patted his thigh, a teasing tone rolling through his voice. “Be a good girl.”
Kriff. You wanted nothing more than to be just that here, in this moment. You ascended the steps, gaze locked on his, furiously flushing when his hand rested against your hips, guiding you onto his lap.
“Isn’t that better, princess?” His voice was impossibly husky in your ear, rasping through the vocoder of the helmet he still donned. “Sure look like one in this dress.”
If you weren’t blushing enough before, you surely were now, pressed flush against him, dress riding far too high to be appropriate, his praise ringing in your ears.
“I…thank you, Boba,” you dared to lean forward, pressing a kiss to his visor. “I missed you.”
The way the man audibly growled at your gesture made your knees go weak. He caressed your back with effortless gentleness, even as he held you tight.
“Didn’t want to scare you. But,” he shook his head, a sigh crackling through the vocoder. “Can’t afford another coup attempt.”
“You didn’t scare me,” you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Trust me. Scared is not how that makes me feel.”
Boba stilled beneath you, and your eyes immediately widened.
Shit, karking dammit.
You hadn’t meant to say the last part aloud.
“And how does it make you feel, ad’ika?” His hand roved from your back to your side, then settling at your hip. “You can tell me.”
“I…” you dipped your head toward his armored chest, cheeks furiously burning. “I mean…”
“Is my little princess struggling for her words?” Boba made a tisking noise, his other hand hooking your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his hidden one. “Poor thing.”
Kriffing hell.
The man knew what he was doing to you. There was no doubt. You swallowed hard, all too aware of his closeness, heat coiling between your legs. Your current position reminded you of the last time you were in his lap, held in his clutches, desperate and wanting. You remembered his promises all too well - and you also knew he was a man of his word.
“Gods, Boba,” you knew your face was redder than the blood red accents of his armor, and given his hold on you, you only flushed further. “I…need you. Please. I’ve been good. I’ve been healing, I-“
“Easy there, little one,” Boba’s voice was surprisingly reassuring as his thumb caressed his cheek. “I’ll give you want you want. But first, I need to know.”
Know what? You frowned ever so slightly, but remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
Boba lifted a hand to his helmet and swiftly removed it, revealing the absolutely dark and hungry amber gaze you knew it was masking all along. You felt nearly boneless, even though he hadn’t done anything…yet.
“Are you ready to take this step with me? No shame if you need more time.” Boba’s face locked on you in complete seriousness, gauging your reaction. “There’s no wrong answer. Want to ensure you’re safe.”
Oh, if your heart could melt any further than it already had for him, it would. Tears risked welling in your eyes so you blinked them away, leaning into his embrace.
“Boba, you make me feel safe. I’ve never loved anyone the way I do you.” You let his gaze, lips hovering oh so close to his, as he watched you with rapt attention and a masterfully restrained hunger. “I want this. With you. You alone.”
“I’m not like those boys who couldn’t handle you, mesh’la,” his hand cupped your face, fingers gently caressing your cheek. “My love is a hunger.”
Oh, you knew. You knew exactly what you signed up for. You couldn’t help but grin.
“Then I’ll be consumed.” You bravely met his gaze, quirking a smile. “I can’t think of a better fate.”
Something altogether wild flashed in his eyes, both a warning sign and a lighthouse beacon all at once. His teeth flashed in the dark like fangs, gaze gentle but commanding as a smile curved his plush lips.
“So be it.”
You whimpered, unable to stop yourself from crashing your lips against his. You were so overcome with love, adoration, and lust all at once - demanding for you to take the initiative.
Boba let you, returning your kiss with a sly grin. He allowed you to lead. For a moment. But then you felt his gloved hand wrap around your throat, just firmly enough to hold you in place. He tilted your chin up and took over - not rough. Not violent.
Just final.
Like a king reclaiming his rightful throne. The king you always knew he was.
Our man works too hard and badly needs this little getaway with our Tea Shop Owner and FINALLY makes a decision about where to go first. For all of his hardened warrior-ness, Boba Fett really kinda is a drama queen (just like most SW men). LET'S GOOOO!!!
Pairing: Boba Fett x Tea Shop Owner!Reader
Word Count: 500
previous chapter series master list
“It’s been a year since our fallen Jedi crisis, Fennec. And a prosperous one,” the Daimyo rumbled. “Surely, it won’t fall apart if we’re away for one week.”
You’d woken early this morning and surprised him with breakfast in bed: his favorite tea and a sugar twisty that you’d waved around his face and chest, dusting sugar all over him. It’s a sin to let sugar go to waste, you’d said, kissing sugar from his lips. How could we possible atone?
Said atonement had put him in a rare good mood and he was determined to hold on to it. Fennec’s fussing about business while walking to the hangar was not helpful in that regard.
“As long as things have been going as smoothly as they’ve been, it shouldn’t be a problem, Boss. All I’m saying it keep the line open. Just in case.”
“Of course. I’m not a beginner.” He turned and met her eyes. Cautious trust lived there. “Thank you, Fennec.”
Fennec held his eye as her hand went to her abdomen and the mechanicals that kept her alive.
“Our deal.”
Yes, Fennec. Our deal.”
*
By the time Boba had boarded Slave 1 you’d triple checked the scantly packed bags and made sure the little gift was safely tucked away. You’d also bought a packable foam mattress to put on the floor of the tiny sleep area. Stars! You couldn’t wait to awkwardly meet one another, knees knocking against the angles of the barely living space on his ship.
There would be time for that though. There was a whole week!
You sat in the cockpit, leaning forward and eager to see stretching blue streaks of light. Boba had put on his helmet and looked out to the stars. Your gaze went to the t-shaped visor and the stars reflected in it. You reached out, fingers tracing along the lines of the helmet, wishing to touch his true face.
“We don’t have to go to Cloud City, Boba. I’m happy to go anywhere.” You ran your hand along the edge of the helmet and took it off, setting it on your lap. “What would you like to show me?”
Boba stared at the console for a long while, jaw clenched, before his head snapped over to meet your eyes. Soft and sweet, but he knew they were razor sharp beneath. You’d fearlessly come to his aid in dire circumstances twice now. Yet he’d continued to keep a distance, shield you from who he had been and the things that he’d done. As always, Jango Fett’s words echoed and Boba turned them over in his mind.
A bounty hunter is free of attachments. Say no more than necessary. This code keeps us alive, his father had said. I’m training you to be better than me.
Better.
Perhaps it was time to be true to you. To trust that you would want to stay.
“I’d like to show you where I was born, cyar'ika.” He brought your palm to his lips. “Kamino.”
-----
This episode's title is courtesy of Echo and the Bunnymen:
It’s not even September and I’m already feeling Boba Fett x Tea Shop Owner Reader vibes. But looking back at Season One and Season Two, I guess it's just that time of year.
I might have to rewatch some of Book of Boba Fett. It's a real hardship. But, I'm willing to do it for my sanity.
Surprise self-rec time! Pick 3 of your favourite things you’ve written and share them here, then put this in the inbox (anonymously or not) of your fellow writers to spread the positivity and help celebrate already written fics 💞
Thank you, @moonlightwarriorqueen!!!
Wizard of The Dunes a recent one that is one of my absolute faves. I LOVE writing Sad Space Wizard Obi-Wan! This came out a spark of an idea from Boba's Sweetest Tea Season 2 where the reader remembers tales of a boogeyman lurking in the desert. That idea would NOT leave me alone. so here we are.
Which brings us toooooo. . .
Boba Fett's Sweetest Tea started at a time when I was in a really bad place and just needed some comfort. After particularly bad days, I'd stay up and bang out an episode in one sitting. No real plan, just let Daimyo Fett take the lead. I love this so much.
Lastly . . .
Shattered Sunrise a Mace Windu fic where he survived the fall after being defeated by Palpatine. He's severely injured, teetering on the edge of hope, but he's determined to find a way to continue the Jedi mission because he's Mace Fucking Windu. It also has my first OC, Danica Morrow. Only a couple people read this, but it's close to my heart.
