Bestieeee 🥰❤️💙
Can i request a smutty Jango x reader fic, pretty please? 🥹
My idea is, he's a famous bounty hunter and has a business on Tatooine, where you work as a mechanic. Maybe his ship starts to sound weird, so he lets you to see it and he's also flirty little shit, but very handsome. You feel total shy and blush, getting his ship repaired. After that, he needs to get that bounty, and you go to nearest cantina for a drink, still processing Jango, but some drunk assholes decide it's fun to get their hands on you, (and what a coincidence, one of them is Jango Fett's bounty). You panic and try to get out of there, but they hold you strong. Suddenly, the one holding you (bounty) drops dead on the floor, while Jango casually hides his blaster and goes check on you. He offers you to go with him and work as his mechanic, while also being under his protection, and then the feelings explode (and also something else hehe)....😏💙🥺😍 Just good old angst, fluff, smut combo? 🥺
OH, but OF COURSE! Only because you said please!! Bestie, when I tell you that this ask has me in a CHOKEHOLD, I do not say that lightly!! Good glob, this is all I have been thinking about since it popped up in my inbox!! Please enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!
Someone Who Can☠️
Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader Warnings: (18+) smut, glove kink, vaginal fingering, biting, kissing, hurt-comfort, sexual harassment, canon-typical violence, bar room brawl, creampie Summary: A famous bounty hunter walks into a bar and saves a damsel in distress.
Read on ao3 - 4.5k words
SW Writing Masterlist - Main Masterlist - My kofi✨
You’re sprawled out on a hovering creeper with grease and dirt up to your elbows. The influx of clients from the latest pod racing event has tripled your workload, and while you feel the need to complain, the steady flow of credits coming in certainly makes it worth your while. Though, you’ve been hard at this since the races ended, that was nearly a week ago and people are becoming impatient to get their vehicles back.
The glimmering flash of polished steel catches your eye. You scan around the room to see where it’s coming from, noticing its source walking right up the floor of your bay. You recognize the pristinely forged beskar at first glance, knowing for a fact this guy is quite literally made of money. You turn up your nonchalance, imparting to your new client that whatever he may need, he’ll have to answer to your schedule.
“Ahem.” The new client audibly clears his throat, but the sound is slightly distorted by a modulator. You push yourself out from under the repulsorlift engine, adjusting your eyes on the T-visor above you. His arms are crossed over his chest plate as he peers down at you, and it is in this moment that you realize you should have gone the extra mile to greet him at the door.
“Oh!” You jump up so fast you end up a little light headed after recognizing who he is. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
You try to offer your hand for a shake, but immediately retract it when you realize it’s slathered in grease, opting to wipe it on the back of your pants.
“I know you’re busy, but I was hoping you could take a look at something. My starship is making some… odd noises.” He attempts to coax you to his ship, but you’re rather keen on testing out a theory.
“You’re right on the first part, I’m not so sure about the second.” You respond flatly, hoping to haggle a little.
“Don’t make me beg.” Those words coming from him make you weak, but you stay strong.
“C’mon, the begging is the best part of my line of work.” You explain with a dry chuckle.
“Please.” He steps closer, altering the mood with his assertion. “My usual guy got arrested.”
“Sounds like a you problem.” You say, wondering how desperate for services he really is.
“It’s not like I was the one who turned him in.” Jango says, but you know better than that, giving him a look. “Alright fine, but it’s not my fault he is wanted in four systems.”
“Then I’m sure the return on your investment provided you with more than enough money to find a new mechanic.” You attempt to dismiss him, making for a crate with some spare parts to peruse through when something remarkable happens.
“It did.” Jango drops a hefty coin pouch just brimming with credits into the piled up crate you’re poring over.
“Now, why should I push you to the front of my queue?” You ask, turning your back on the substantial sum. “You’d have to pay me more than double my going rate, all of which these kind people have already coughed up in advance.”
“Trust me.” His helmet tilts towards you, making you feel small but in a good way before another pouch is set beside the first one in the crate at your back. “Money is no object.”
“I don’t suppose you have a time manipulator that will magically make all the hours I spend working just disappear so that I don’t get behind on my other projects?”
“Sorry, the only way I’ve been known to lose time is with a fifth of Merenzene Gold and a pretty woman on my arm.” His attempt at charming you works, but you can’t let him know that.
“Nice try, pal.” You push him playfully away from you, walking ahead of him to find a damp rag to wipe your hands “I can’t fit you in.”
A third pouch is dropped on the pile and you realize he’s not going to take no for an answer. Thank goodness you’ve been playing hard to get. You could probably milk him for every credit he’s worth if you kept this act up.
You accept the payment, tossing the pouches into your personal lock box tucked beneath the counter, slamming it shut and resuming your focus on him. “So, what exactly did you want me to look at?”
“Right this way.” You follow him to where his starship is parked. Your stomach drops at the severity of its damage.
Hull panels are shot clean off, carbon scoring stains it from top to bottom, and there are some components that you’re certain will put you on a planet-wide scavenger hunt to look for replacements. “Aw jeeze. I’m starting to think the weird sounds are the least of your worries.”
“It’s… not as bad as it looks.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” You start inspecting, running your diagnostic scanner over every inch. Contrary to Jango’s claims, it’s far worse than it looks, in fact. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was part of the races too. “Uhm… about when did you need this to be fixed up?”
“I was hoping within the next few days.” He meekly suggests, knowing the timeframe is tight “I got a gig in the Telos system that I can’t be late for.”
“Even if I happened to have four extra arms, I don’t think that would be possible.” You coldly declare while putting your scanner away
“Well, it’s a good thing I brought six.” He presses a button on his decorated gauntlet and his boarding steps creak to an open. The comedically slow revelation of your new guests causes you to chuckle, and if not for his helmet, you’re certain he’s smiling under there too.
A flock of rusty, chipper little pit droids file out of his ship and you feel the workload quite literally be lifted off your shoulders. What you said before was obviously a figure of speech, but now that you’re calculating it, you have been brought more help than you would have ever predicted.
“Does this change things?” Jango asks, knowing the answer.
“Erm, y-yeah I think I can probably make this work.” You pretend not to be impressed when in reality this is one of the kindest gestures you could ever receive.
“Good.” He immediately makes a break for the exit.
“Where are you going?” You investigate, desperate to know where he’s off to in such a hurry.
“I have another engagement.” Jango tells you steadily before placing a cylindrical comm device in your hands. “This will connect you to my personal channel. Let me know when it’s ready.”
“Sure thing!” And just as fast as he arrived, he was gone and you’re left alone with all his pit droids.
Due to all the newfound assistance, you make incredible time on his ship. You are able to be in two places at once by setting out a couple of the droids on a hunt for parts while you keep things moving in your shop. You work well into twin suns falling and all through the night. It is nearly daybreak, but you’re finished at last and way faster than you thought.
You reward the pit droids with an oil bath while you wash the day away before heading out to the nearest bar. Your hair is still dripping as you slam a few drinks while standing in your bathrobe. The exhaustion of the day melts away like the grease in the shower. You consider calling Jango, but you leave it for later in the morning, surmising it to be too early right now.
You get dressed, tie your hair out of your face with a clean bandana and head out to your favorite hole in the wall. The walk there was fine. You get a few rounds in and make your way to the counter for another drink when a drunken squad of Nikto bikers mistake you for being a waitress.
“Hey, sexy thing!” One of them hollers but you ignore him. “Bring us another round on your way back, will ya, sweet cheeks?”
As you pass, the one causing a commotion claps your ass, causing you to drop your steel cup. When it clatters on the floor, you pretend to grab for it but reach for a tray off a nearby table instead, weaponizing it across his face. You strike him so hard, you could have sworn you saw his teeth being sent across the room. He doesn’t like this display and forcibly grabs your wrist. He rips the tray out of your hand and is about to use it on you when a whipcord stops him short. “What the-
“Goro Vesh.” A voice addresses him from across the room.
“Who’s askin’?” Goro drops the tray with a tightening of his fist as he fights against the hold Jango has on him from afar, streams of blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth.
“Tyber Zann.” He answers as his other hand hovers by the blaster on his hip. “Wants to know why you walked out on his contract.”
“That’s none of your business!” Goro’s eyes advertise his fear. Cowardice sets in and he spins and does a swift turn on his heels, taking you hostage and bound by the whipcord.
“I’m paid to make it my business.” Jango’s fingers twitch, ready to draw his blaster. “Now let her go and maybe I’ll let you keep your arm.”
“Nice try, dirtbag!” Just as Goro’s grip on you tightens, he makes the mistake of going for his own sidearm when Jango triggers the whipcord to retract in an instant.
You’re spun out of his grasp, stumbling a few steps away when the squelching of rupturing flesh and snapping bones calls your attention back to Goro. His arm is hanging by a thread as he screams at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking and going hoarse as he draws out every shred of breath in his lungs. Before the shock of his missing arm could even set in, Jango puts a bolt between his eyes and he falls in a pile on the floor.
The club goes silent. The band stops playing. An awkwardness only hangs in the air for a moment or so before everyone resumes their own merriment; an event that happens often enough no one bats an eye. The only people still in shock are the vestiges of his gang, vulnerable and directionless without their leader.
“Get out now, or join him.” Jango dismisses them and they scatter. He walks over to corpse and throws it over his shoulder without ceremony.
His pauldron brushes against yours and despite being a mere extension, it’s as if you grazed his bare skin. A gruff breath sounds deeper through his modulator. He tilts his head as if to pop his neck and release the tension, pausing as if waiting for you to address or recognize him.
“I suppose I should thank you.” You mutter under the cacophony of the club’s noise.
“Are you alright?” You can feel him staring down the impressions his whipcord left on your skin, feeling at fault for any modicum of discomfort.
“Oh, it didn’t even hurt.” You attempt to rub the irritation away but it lingers, giving him a torturous distraction. “I’m fine.”
“I’d love it if you allowed me to repay you.” Jango insists, adjusting his hold on the corpse over his shoulder.
“Oh please.” You scoff. “It’s not like you intended to interrupt my time off.”
“Does that mean you’re through with my ship?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
“How would you like to come work for me?” Jango poses the question and you truly weren’t predicting such a turn. “Personally.”
“Do I get to keep the pit droids?” You answer his question with one of your own. “I was already starting to think up names.”
“You can name them whatever you want.” Jango brushes his curled index finger just beneath your chin and you can almost hear a smile come through that helmet.
“What about my other clients?” You can’t possibly leave them high and dry.
“I never said you had to give them up.” Jango’s reassurance tells you this really is the job offer of a lifetime.
“Well, why don’t we head down to the bay and you can inspect my work, then you can see if I’m fit to work for you.”
“Good idea.” Jango glances at the body he’s holding with a demeanor of disgust. “He’s starting to smell.”
Once you both stroll your way to the shop, Jango’s boarding steps open so that he may load the corpse into his ship where it will be placed under karbonite suspension and filed away with a stack of other stone subjects in the preserver.
“Not bad.” Jango examines his ship and notices that you even matched the paint to its original shade despite certain replacements. You really went the extra mile. The intricate detailing makes it seem fresh and good as new. “I’ve never seen it look this good.”
“It wasn’t easy.” One of the pit droids rolls out from around the corner, its head compressed down the rest of its body. “They helped a lot.”
The little guy pops out to full size and takes a few steps to join the others.
“I guess you’ll be heading out to your next gig in the Telos system, right?” You declare, sad to see him go.
“I could think of a few reasons to stay.” His helmet cranes over you, an unbreakable steel barrier between and yet it’s so intimate. His breathing grows heavier. As does yours.
His hand raises slowly, pushing the strap of your top off your shoulder, his leather glove stroking your skin. When you lie your hands across his chest plates the cool steel disrupts the broiling heat growing between you. His thumb strokes the impressions still marking your skin from the incident at the club. “You know, you looked really beautiful fending off my bounty with that tray back there.”
“You should see what I can do with a spanner wrench.” You wink at him with a grin and he chuckles lowly, pulling you closer into him.
“I’m serious.” Jango’s voice turns slightly as you trace shapes into his armor, admiring each other.
“I am too.” You venture out of your comfort zone, hands trembling as they reach for his helmet. The weight of its unmoving frame shifts and a depressurizing hiss emits from the base when the seal is broken. He gasps and you flinch thinking you’ve overstepped, but he doesn’t object to your advances.
“Can I… kiss you?” You ask, feeling it necessary before you proceed.
He nods, allowing that to suffice for an answer.
You lift the helmet only halfway, stopping at his nose. There lies stubble on his chin in a chiseled shadow of facial hair. Scars paint his features. He’s incredibly handsome and you haven’t even seen his eyes yet. So strong and sturdy. His bottom lip trembles with the need so badly to kiss you. Sensing his desperation, you reach up, meeting him halfway with a perch on your tip toes.
His warm lips are soft as they mold to your mouth. It’s as if he’s not felt this close to someone before. While trying so hard to hold himself back, you can tell he wants more. An inner battle ensues with that urge to remain emotionless. Distant. Cordial.
“You know, you don’t have to pay me to do this part…” You joke, acknowledging his rigidness.
Your remark breaks the ice and he laughs. His lips crack into a smile, a set of bright and perfect teeth making a glorious appearance. “So she’s gorgeous, and funny.”
“That’s not all I am.” You push him into the nearest wall, cornering him but he’s exactly where he wants to be and immensely appreciative of your candor. “Can I see you?”
The cinder blocks he’s stacked in his mind are giving him a cold sweat when prompted by this additional inquiry, claustrophobic amidst the unshaken restrictions he’s fortified for himself. He sits high atop his tower, estranged from others while secluded in the foothills of regret.
Though he’s convinced himself he wants for nothing, the one thing he feared the most is beckoning at his gates. His avoidance has made this harder than it has to be. His heart beats with a rhythm of its own, testing him when he thought the instinct to survive was all there was to live for. It is only now, seeing you in front of him, that he realizes there is something more.
As his deep brown eyes peer right into your soul from beneath his beskar veil, you want to just rip this helmet off the rest of the way, but you’ll abide by your patience and wait for his admission.
He nods again, tucking his chin slightly so that he could escape the shroud before you even make another move. You are finally greeted by each other’s gaze, true and passionate. As the helmet descends, you feel Jango take it from your hands, to set it down on a slightly cluttered workbench while his unoccupied hand crawls up the length of your back.
His hand meets the nape of your neck. His powerful grip upturns your head so that his lips could fall over your mouth. His tongue ventures past your teeth, intertwining with yours until your flavors are indistinguishable from one another.
His leather gloves creak in your ears when he takes fistfuls of your hair. You wish to climb atop of him, pushing him harder into the wall when he thinks up an even better idea.
He reels back his kiss so that he could speak to you, struggling to enunciate through your peck placing all over his jawline and down his neck. “I hope you won’t mind my making a mess, darling.”
“You can do whatever you want...” You whisper against his lips, misconstruing the meaning of ‘mess’, thinking he meant something completely different.
“In that case…” He starts before momentarily directing his attention to the sturdy-looking counter space within arm’s reach. He uses his plated arm to clear a space large enough to accommodate the both of you, sending all your tools, parts and components over the edge.
Everything clatters to the floor in a loud crash. His ability to take control is invigorating and your stomach is all aflutter when he deposits you directly atop the workbench surface with a frenzied slam. You’re breathless from being manhandled so aggressively, gasping for air when he starts to peel off your clothes. Thank goodness you showered. He’s wasting no time in putting his head right between your thighs.
The cold plates of his armor sting against your bare flesh, but you’re soon acclimated when the radiating heat from your core spreads all through your body. You cannot believe this is happening. It’s all going so fast, and yet you don’t want things to slow down. He keeps your legs caged by his arms, both palms digging into your hips. He flashes a wickedly sinful look your way, before his hot mouth familiarizes itself with your other lips. His tongue spreads your petals, lapping up your nectar as it slickens its source.
It’s a fight to hold your head up. You want to keep watching him, but every touch of his tongue on your entrance has you crying out and gripping the workbench for dear life.
“You’re delicious…” He tells you through his southern make out before diving back in for another taste. You’re nearing the stratosphere, so high on this elation that you begin to see stars while he remains anchored to your clit.
His fervent devouring takes a thrilling turn when you notice one of his hands moving. His fingers trace the contours of your curves as they make their way to your plump cheeks. Without removing his mouth from your steaming sex, he circles your soaked entrance with his gloved middle finger, tempting the unthinkable while you lie there vulnerable at his mercy.
Your hips begin to gyrate at the notion of his invasion. You wish for him to breach your walls and claim you as his from the inside out. His stare is locked on you, that furrowed and darkened brow just burgeoning with concentration in getting you there.
Enough of his teasing. He plucks his mouth off of you, using his teeth to remove the glove from his hand. He bites down on the very same middle finger he used on you, letting not even a smear of your flavor go to waste. He sucks it clean, clenching his glistening jaw around the digit so that he can pull the glove off. All through this, he doesn’t stop looking at you for even a second.
His tongue finds your clit again. Jango shoves his articulate muscle against that little bud like there’s no tomorrow, only this time, he’s slowly sinking that salaciously used middle finger into you.
Your eyes cross at the displacement you feel within, mouth hanging wide open as he inches in a little deeper. Your hips move more erratically, and Jango takes that as your blessing to turn things up a notch.
In and out. In and out. Your walls clench and dilate around his finger while he steadily feasts on your pussy. You’re being simultaneously filled and played with so thoroughly, it’s in no time at all that those stars you see turn into fully formed galaxies as you yourself go supernova.
Your thighs clench around his head, suffocating him relentlessly as you come hard on his mouth. The curl of his finger inside presses your button at the right moment and you’re left quivering on the workbench. It’s like static ripples pass in waves over your entire being. And just when you start to catch your breath, he rescinds his contact with you.
You’ll not mourn the departure for long, watching in real time as he scrambles to rid himself of his utility belt and holsters. The chiming metal of his blasters falling on the floor advertises the weight of his ordinance and he hasn’t even dropped his codpiece yet.
As you wait for the inevitable, you beam at him with your lower half exposed. As if things weren’t hot enough, you think this is a good time to lift your shirt over your head.
“Oooh… Now that’s a sight to behold.” Jango licks his lips at your appetizing display, ripping his codpiece off once and for all and tossing it aside with a loud clang.
You prop your heels at the edge of the workbench while reaching out for the other sides, your arms apart to showcase your chest. He steps closer, hooking your leg over one of his arms to yank you closer. The creak of the workbench shifting startles you with the way it causes your heart to jump, but you feed on the spike of adrenaline and the thrill of this encounter. As he holds you in place, he undoes a clasped opening in his undersuit, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothes.
He needs not stroke himself as he’s already hard as a rock. Holding it at the base like a wand, he guides himself to your entrance, collecting some of your wetness on his plump and girthy tip. You cannot handle his constant teasing, softly begging him to spit you in half. “Fuck me… Please…”
“As you wish.” Jango ceases his intermission, knocking himself up against you so that he may immerse himself within your walls. The stretch puts his fingers to shame as he goes all the way in on the first thrust. You feel him punch the base of your stomach, igniting a burn that is impossibly scorching. Jango surrenders to his lustful desires and slams one of his hands beside your head on the flat surface for support. He’s hovering above you now, eclipsing the light that surrounds you to cast his shadow along your form. His hips roll into yours, sliding himself in and out just like his fingers, but with far more gratification.
As he thrusts into you, his head descends farther until he’s suckling on your breasts. He’s hunched and panting and all you can do is lie there and take everything he has to give you. His suckling on your breasts morph into kisses and love bites climbing up your collar bones until he finds a home at your lips. You kiss him back while wrapping your arms around his neck. He plunges as far as he could possibly go, bracing himself against the workbench with every push and lunge. The mechanical creaking’s pace quickens and you can tell Jango is about to experience the same euphoric experience with you following suit again and again.
It happens before he knows it. Things elevate much too quickly when he realizes he’s deprived himself of this level of bliss. The power behind his thrusts grows as he buries himself into your neck, but the hot air of his breath proves to be suffocating. He pushes off of you, peering at your whole body as he makes it jiggle and shake at his will.
This is what sends him over the edge faster than your tools on the floor. Your expressions, your half-lidded eyes love-drunk on him and no one else, the way you lie there repetitively getting impaled on his cock.
With one of his gloves missing, he uses booth hands to hold onto your stomach and concentrate on its distention as he pushes himself inside. As an added benefit to his view, you straighten your knees so that your feet are pointed to the ceiling. He’s fucking you so hard, the workbench can hardly keep up with the shifting back and forth, that is until Jango’s ballooning warmth starts to drip over the counter’s surface.
The friction inside ceases as his spend coats your inner walls. It’s sweltering as it combats with your own body temperature. Jango lets out his own shuddered moans and grunts at this climax. The cadence of your breathing matches his as you both ride the surge of ecstasy.
Even though this is the most fun you’ve had in years, you can’t help but think that an arrangement like this with any one of your clients would harbor the possibility of making things difficult. You leapt for desire and didn’t consider the consequences.
“Still want me to work for you?” You ask, thinking this engagement couldn’t possibly be fit for business, but you can’t deny wanting to spend the rest of your days by his side. Regardless, you’re eager to clear the air lest your heart be broken.
While still inside you, micro-thrusts keep the fire alight as if he’s ready to go another round, he asks, “When can you start?”
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