Fan Fiction Friday: Darth Vader and Harry Potter in “Supermassive Black Hole”

Today’s story comes to us from author Aisling, who seems to have a habit of writing about various characters from non-Harry Potter-universes fucking Harry Potter. I, of course, had to choose the one where Darth Vader has his turn visiting Harry’s chamber of secrets, a choice I will regret to the end of my days, which will probably be later this weekend via alcohol poisoning. I’ve only run about half the story here; basically, what happens is that an amazingly out-of-character Darth Vader is forced to land his Star Destroyer on Naboo and then gets all mopey (I’m reasonably sure this is set pre-New Hope). His officers, naturally concerned for their tyrannical commander’s mental well-being, pool their money together and give Vader an address and a room number  — nothing else — and send him on his way. Vader sees absolutely no problem with any of this, obviously. And when Vader arrives at the room, our story begins…

When he found the room, he walked in without knocking. There was no one inside. The entry room was furnished with two leather divans, and a table made of what looked like Alderanian oak. 

Well, that’s going to raise in value in a few years.

Vader checked the bathroom and the bedroom as well; no one in either. He was alone in a room that one of his subordinates had sent him to, after specifically inviting him along to the cantina, and Vader had not bothered to tell the Captain or the Admiral of his attendance.

Assassination! He mind supplied.

A bit slow on the uptake there, aren’t you, Darth? This is why everyone refers to you as “The Naive Lord of the Sith.”

His hand groped for his lightsaber as the door swung open. The weapon was lit and held to the girl’s throat before she could step foot in the room. Her green eyes widened with fear, then amusement as she took in his suit.

“Well, this is kinkier than I’m used to,” the voice drawled, a small smile on his lips. The voice was masculine.

Vader lowered his lightsaber. Before him stood the girl from his vision, except it wasn’t a girl. It was a boy, a boy who was wearing only a pair of cotton shorts and knee high army-issue boots.

Knee-high army boots? Which army is this, the KISS Army?

“What?” Vader took a step backwards, though he kept his weapon lit and ready.

“I’m guessing from the leather thing you’ve got going on that I should have worn a collar?” Vader tilted his head to one side, unsure what he was supposed to say. “You know, the whole Dominant/submissive theme, leather, chains, kink, and all that hype. Why else would you be wearing that ridiculous outfit? I’m Harry by the way.”

Here’s what bugs me about these crossover fan fics (besides, you know, everything). So the author has put a completely out-of-character Harry Potter in the Star Wars universe just so he can fuck a completely out-of-character Darth Vader. That’s awful, but what drives me insane is that the Sorcerer’s Slut here is part of the Star Wars universe — because however he got here, he still gre up here (as the story explicitly states in a bit)  — but Harry has no idea who Darth Vader is or even what an exo-suit is. Aliens wear exo-suits in the Star Wars universe all then time, everywhere; unless Harry has grown up in the Star Wars equivalent of an Amish brothel he should know about all this shit.

Also, I hate that I spent even a synapse thinking about this stupidity.

He wasn’t sure why he answered truthfully, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I was injured in a fire. The suit allows me to breathe normally.”

“Oh,” Harry frowned, and Vader realized with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he wasn’t comfortable with the boy looking unhappy. 

Because when I think about Darth Vader, the first word that always comes to mind is “compassion.”

“So you can’t take it off then? How are we supposed to have sex with it on?” Harry took a step forwards, and Vader backed up a step as well.

“What?” For a shocked second there was complete silence, then the whoosh-whoosh of Vader’s respirator started again, and Harry gave a soft laugh.

And after I think of the word “compassion,” the next word that comes to mind is “demure.” And then “innocent” very quickly thereafter. It’s almost a tie, really.

“Well why else would you be here?” There was a furrow between the teenager’s eyebrows, and his eyes were half closed in confusion.

“A… associate of mine sent me here.” Vader admitted.

Harry gave a low whistle. “Damn. You’re either his very good friend or he just won a krith-load of money in the casino and had nothing better to waste it on!”

“Since you’re a hulking 7-feet tall in sinister, all-black armor, I’m going to guess ‘good friend!’ Did I mention I am completely ignorant of the brutal government that rules not only this planet, but most of the galaxy?”

“The later, no doubt,” the elder man drawled. His eyes roamed over the lightly-tanned skin that was bared to him, skipping the cotton that hid his groin with a gulp, and took in the boots. “Those are?”

“Carida regulation. My last Daimyo had a thing about me dressing up like a Stormtrooper. Anyway, how do you have sex in that?” Harry reached out a hand, and Vader knocked it away, lighter than he would have hit anyone else who would have dared to touch him.

This facepalm is not for Harry’s fascination with how Vader fucks with his suit on, but the use of the word “daimyo.” If I could pass a law forbidding erotic fan fic writers from taking Japanese History 101, the world would be a much better place.

“I do not.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never had the opportunity to try.”

A wide grin almost split Harry’s face. He reached down, to open the buttons on his shorts. He was wearing nothing else, Vader noticed, and felt his face flushing. 

DARTH VADER JUST BLUSHED.

…

FUCKING THINK ABOUT THAT.

The shorts had slid down his hips, revealing a dark patch of hair, but Vader knew what else was hidden beneath the cotton.

Thank god Palpatine finally sat him down and told him about the birds and the Bothans last week!

He had never, ever, felt any inclination towards men.

Except this one.

Actually, he had never felt anything sexual towards anyone other than Padme. 

Besides the underage wizard hooker in front of him.

The Force had brought him to her, and he had been allowed and encouraged by the Force to love her.

Well, that really worked out for everyone, didn’t it? Thanks a lot, Force! Asshole.

The Force trembled, rippling across his mind. It urged him to reach out and cup the teenager’s face in his much larger hand.

The Force is a fucking pervert.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I was paid.” The boy said with a shrug, pressing his cheek against the gloved hand. “I cost an awful lot of money, so I may as well do what I was paid to do.”

“You’re a whore?” Vader cleared his throat, shifting his weight as Harry flinched. “A prostitute I mean?”

When asked for a quote, 10-year-old Anakin from The Phantom Menace said, “Of course he’s a whore, you dipshit. Even I know that, and I thought the chick from The Professional was a goddamned angel.”

“I prefer the word Oiran. It’s an old world word for concubine or courtesan, you know, the really high class ones.” 

An old Japanese word, of course. The oiran were basically the geishas before geishas, and in author Aisling’s defense, I doubt she learned about them in Japanese History 101. On the other hand, she really does think making Harry Potter stand around a room in his underwear, waiting to be fucked by older men from Star Wars is somehow equivalent to being a highly-trained, socially revered courtesan from 17th century Japan, so I think I’m all right in saying I think she should be slapped for all eternity.

“I’ve been here a while now, a long while actually. I know I’m not from here, but I don’t remember how I came to be here. It’s just always been that way, me living and working in this place. Mostly I just entertain people outside of the bedroom, like go on dates and to weddings and parties so they look like someone gives a shit about them, but in all the time I’ve been here only two people have ever taken me to bed. Both were rather important Imperials though. Are you important? You must be, because Teddy doesn’t really like ‘loaning’ me out, he says I remind him of his daughter.” Harry scowled at that.

1) Harry Potter has not just serviced a few Imperial officers, but gone on several dates and social events, and still has no idea who Darth Vader is. That’s dumb as shit. 2) Teddy? Teddy is the dumbest Star Wars character name I’ve ever heard, and I remember Elan Sleazebaggano.

“I am the supreme commander of the Imperial Naval forces,” Vader told him, smugly. Harry’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “I would say I was important.”

“Suppose that really helps attract women. Or men. Whatever. Though the suit gets in the way, I bet.” Harry came towards Vader again, grinning up at the taller man.

Also: Harry Potter is the one sentient being in the galaxy who has zero concept that the Empire is perhaps a thing to be feared. “The Empire? Is that some sort of club or something? Do you all play badminton together?”

“Like I said previously, I would not know.”

Harry gave the Sith a two-handed shove, palms flat to the breastplate of Vader’s suit. The man stumbled lightly, calves hitting against one of the divans that occupied the room and he fell, landing clumsily on the couch. 

HARRY POTTER, WEARING ONLY HIS UNDERPANTS, JUST SHOVED DARTH VADER. 

…

THAT’S SO STUPID I JUST AGED TWO YEARS.

Anger welled up inside of him, but before he could react, Harry had seated himself on Vader’s thighs, one leg on either side of the man.

Oh, if only Vader had some kind of mystical power that could use his anger to incapacitate his enemies! Some kind of force that could, oh, I don’t know, choke the life out of this forward young boy?

The brunette leered down at the masked man, and said, “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Small hands pulled and prodded at the panels of his suit, fingers slid between the gaps trying to pry them apart and more than once Harry brushed against Vader’s groin. The Sith Lord hadn’t been sure if he was still capable of rising to the occasion, no one had garnered his attention sexually since his wife died and when he dreamt of her, they were nightmarish and not arousing. But his worries were unfounded, and Harry grinned at him, the heel on one hand rubbing against the bulge in Vader’s trousers.

Artist’s rendition of what Darth Vader’s penis looks like after his duel on Mustafar with Obi-Wan:

Vader tried to shove him back twice, but he didn’t particularly like the way the brunette frowned at him. It made his heart ache. Like when Padme had wanted to do something that Anakin thought was too dangerous, one pout from her and he had agreed like a fool. And now it was happening again. Damn the Force, he couldn’t bring himself to throw they boy off of him.

Yes, Darth, god forbid you stop this act of passive statutory rape, because Harry the Whore might get his feelings hurt.

There was a piece of the suit that detached so that Vader could use the facilities, and Harry deftly pulled it off and dropped it to the floor. The leather underneath had a slit up the front, much like a pair of boxer shorts, and Harry reached his hand in through the gap and gave a rough tug.

“Jesus!” yelled Harry. “What the fuck did you do to yourself? It looks like you tried to fuck a basket of french fries while they were still cooking.”

Vader gasped, vocoder rumbling, as his hips arched up involuntarily. It had been such a long time since someone had touched him, down there or anywhere else, that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone’s skin against his own. A moan escaped him as Harry continued to stroke, thumb pressing against the head. His own arms came up, fingers digging into Harry’s waist, clinging to the boy with a grip that was going to leave bruises.

Please remember all of Vader’s sex noises need to be imagined in James Earl Jones’ voice.

“If you really don’t want to do this, you don’t have to,” Harry whispered, bending down so that his forehead was touching the mouthpiece of Vader’s helmet. Vader’s only response was to buck up into the hand that was still stroking him. Harry pressed his mouth to the mouthpiece, a soft smile on his lips before he swung his leg over Vader’s waist. He stood beside the divan, looking down at the man who was staring at him through red-tinted optics. The cotton shorts slid the rest of the way down his legs, as Harry’s hands pushed at the waistband. Naked, and erect, the boy moved to straddle the Sith Lord again. Vader’s hands were on his hips, holding him in place as the man leant forward to press their foreheads together.

“I want to do this,” he said, fingers squeezing soft flesh.

Given that that last time he saw his actual wife, who was nine-months pregnant with his children, he force-choked and killed her, I imagine Vader’s insanely submissive sensitivity to this random prostitute is really pissing off Padme’s force ghost right now.

“Good.” Harry leant forward, one hand supporting his weight beside Vader’s shoulder. His other hand moved to his mouth, and Vader watched entranced as his tongue flicked across thin fingers. Harry sucked on his fingers, licking them much in the way Vader imagined he would a cock, and his own jumped at the image his brain supplied. A moan left him, and Harry merely smirked, moving his fingers from his mouth and towards his backside.

What

Vader couldn’t see what he was doing, but he knew. Harry was panting, eyes closed and mouth hanging open, and his arm was moving, fingers pushing into his body one at a time. When Harry deemed himself sufficiently prepared, he removed his fingers. 

Harry just fingerfucked his own asshole to get himself ready for Darth Vader? Okay, that’s actually pretty fucked up.

You earned that Head Asplode, story. Well done, I didn’t think you had it in you. But guess Harry also just had it in him, so maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised.

Both hands were on the divan, and Harry pushed himself back, sliding down Vader’s body with a grin still in place. Harry was flushed, panting lightly, and his lips were pink and soft, and his mouth was wet and warm when Harry ducked his head to suck Vader’s cock. Vader gave a groan, back arching as pleasure rocketed up his spine. He felt like he had been hit by lightning, but there was no pain. Just electrifying pleasure. 

Since Vader has his penis dipped on lava not that long ago, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt as to whether he knows what having his dick struck by lightning would feel like.

The feel of Harry’s mouth, Harry’s hand that had slipped beneath the leather he wore to fondle his scrotum, Harry’s skin pressed to his own, had his nerve endings singing, his blood rushing. His heart pounded frantically.

And Harry pulled away.

The boy crawled along the sofa, like a cat, back arched and head tilted to one side while he swung his arse teasingly. Vader’s hands were on him again, gripping Harry under the arms and dragging the boy so that he was seated once more on the Sith’s willing lap. His respirator struggled to keep up with his heaving chest, but Vader didn’t concern himself with the fear that he might die. All he could think, see or feel was Harry.

And really, what’s so great about Darth Vader’s life that he wouldn’t risk it all to fuck Harry Potter in the ass?

The boy lifted himself up, one hand on Vader’s cock, steadying and positioning it, and then he sunk down.

A startled cry left Vader, his head flew back, helmet striking the armrest of the divan with a loud smack. The hand that had slipped down to Harry’s thigh squeezed, and the other hand pressed against the sofa. He raised his hips, pulling Harry down at the same time, and they both gasped as the movement forced the rest of Vader’s length into the boy. Harry’s head hung forward, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead and his lips parted with every laboured breath.

Vader wished that he could kiss the boy. He cursed the suit, cursed Obi-Wan and the fires of Mustafar that had ravished him, and then he cursed his wandering mind as Harry began to rock on top of him, startling him. The boy was hot around him, scorching almost, and Vader briefly wondered if he was being burnt up from the inside out this time, as pleasure coiled through his stomach. 

Given that Vader was actually set on fire not that long ago, you’d think that any kind of burning sensation would be at least somewhat unpleasant, but I guess not.

…

Is anyone else’s brains leaking out their ears right now? Just me?

Harry’s hands pressed against his chest, the red lights winking from between his splayed fingers. He rose up on his knees and fell back down, rotating his hips until he cried out, stars exploding behind his eyes as Vader struck his prostate. He kept that angle, riding the Sith, fast and furiously one minute, then slowing down at another, before speeding up again.

The hand moved from Harry’s hip to grasp his neglected penis, and Vader tugged it lightly. He smirked beneath the mask as Harry threw his head back with a cry.

Question: Is it better or worse that Darth isn’t using the Force to give Harry Potter a reach-around? I mean, it would be tremendously dumb, but there’s seriously no reason why these characters are Darth Vader and Harry Potter otherwise. I mean, with very few changes, they could be replaced by anybody, because nobody’s even close to showing any accurate defining characteristics. I mean, it could be Batman and Robocop. Nathan Drake from Uncharted and Spock. Bran Stark and Cookie Monster.

Time blurred as they moved together. Soft cries and pants drowned out the whoosh-whoosh of Vader’s respiratory, and they ignored the sound of “Lord Vader?” being called from the hallway. When the sounds from outside the room stopped, the only words spoken were “more”, and “please”, and “oh Force”! Eventually, the semi-silence was broken by Harry’s low keen, as his head dropped forward, and he came into Vader’s fist. Fingers curled into claws, digging into Harry’s side and leg, as Vader clung to him, using his grip to anchor himself to reality as the universe exploded inside of his mind. Pleasure coursed through him, positive feelings he hadn’t known for nearly four years were alive within his soul, swirling and floating within him, rising up to smoother him, and only the feeling of Harry’s heat gripping him tight kept him from passing out. 

So it was like this:

…except “Yes!”

Tears stung the broken skin of his cheeks, but he was unable to wipe them away. Instead, he picked the panting boy off of him, ignoring the sound of his cock slipping free, and with shaky legs he brought them both to the bedroom. He left Harry down on top of the duvet. Harry lay quietly, breathing harshly with his eyes half-closed, watching as Vader tucked himself back into his trousers. The armour plate was still in the entrance room, and Vader turned towards the door intent on retrieving it.

He was going to leave.

Harry had done what he had been paid to do, after all, so why would the teenager want to spend more time together? There was no Force insisting that Harry should want to be with him. Merely the other way around.

Even Attack of the Clones Anakin wants Darth Vader to man the fuck up at this point. “YOU PAID HIM FOR SEX. IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER WHAT HE WANTS. IF YOU WANT TO CUDDLE AND HE DOESN’T THEN CUT HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF. KILLING CHILDREN IS LIKE ONE OF THE FEW THINGS WE’RE REALLY GOOD AT.”

A hand curled around his, tanned fingers lacing together with leather-clad metal ones.

Vader looked down at the boy, who looked up at him half-lidded, smiling shyly through a fringe of dark hair. Like in his vision. Tanned skin was flushed and gleaming with sweat, looking uncomfortably. Vader felt uncomfortable under his heavy clothing, but outside of his hyperbaric chamber he could not undress.

“So…” said Vader. “How do you feel about… sand?”

“Get into bed,” the boy ordered with that now-familiar smirk on his lips. “Your friend paid for the night; the night isn’t over yet.”

He thought about it, debated whether he should stay or simply insist the boy return with him to the Exactor. In the end, he said, “I do not have to return until the morning.”

He had lost his wife and their child, dead at his own hands, and he promised himself he would die first before anyone would harm Harry. But first, he had to figure out how he would convince Harry to leave Naboo with him.

He stood in silence.

Lord Vader was storming through the communications room, glancing in turn at the officers who were thinking or talking about their mysterious new passenger. But Harry wasn’t watching them. He wasn’t listening to their murmured comments, or to their whispered questions, or to Vader’s shouts for silence. He was looking out of the Star Destroyer’s window instead. He had his hand pressed flat against the glass, fingers and the heel of his palm leaving smudges on the pane.

Harry watched the stars blur together, becoming white streaks of light against the blackness of hyperspace. He watched in silent pleasure as he flew towards his future.

The End