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dystopicjumpsuit · 2 days ago

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JESUS LOUISE-US SHAY.

Whew, I'm gonna need a minute. I'm gonna need three to five business minutes.

...

Okay, I've got oxygen back in my brain and can formulate sentences once again.

First of all, HOT. You absolutely nailed the psychology of the service top. There is literally nothing better than listening to a partner falling apart and knowing we did that to them.

Secondly,

“Come on, Lena. Stop being such a pillow princess,” she had whined, the tone of her voice paired with the wrinkle in her nose telling you exactly how she felt and what she was so casually willing to admit out loud, when it came to people like you.

Want me to hex them? 🔪👀❓

Take it like a Taker

Pairing: Fennec Shand/Fem Reader

Word count: 3.4 K

Tags/warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) smut, no plot, mentions of pillow princess shaming/reader identifies as a pillow princess, reader is insecure, oral, fingering, use of a mirror, Fennec is a tease

Summary: you had thought, by this point, that you felt quite secure in regards to your preferences. Sometimes, though, doubt hits you at in opportune moments. Luckily, the galaxy‘s hottest mercenary Fennec Shand is more than happy to provide some much needed reassurance.

Authors note: I’d like to thank Chappell Roan’s “the giver,” for giving me the boost I needed to write this. Also my period, for making me emerge from my cave so that I could bring you this smut. Happy Friday, everyone. Here’s hoping that your weekend is as hot as this🔥

Thank you @inklore for the divider

You’re just being lazy.

You recognize this inkling enough to know that it is, in essence, just an intrusive thought.

Unfortunately, being able to recognize a pattern doesn’t mean you’re necessarily apt to stop it. But usually, this one is relatively easy to dismiss.

Usually, you’re so distracted by her lips and her tongue and her hands gripping your thighs to force them apart, your only tether to reality being your fingers tangled in her hair as fireworks dance and explode beneath your tightly closed eyelids...but tonight, that isn’t enough.

That only increases your shame and your spiral.

Lazy, manipulative, selfish. When it came to your preference to only be a receiver during sex, you had pretty much heard it all. The Holonet, in particular, was a constant echo chamber of toxicity, badgering groups in already marginalized communities stirring up the pot just to feed some personal complex of moral superiority.

Usually though, the Holonet was just that, articles that certainly gave you the ability to roll your eyes from time to time, but easy enough to brush off and ignore, because really, who cares about what some random person who hides behind over articulated walls of text from some think-piece website thinks about you or your sex life?

This, though, was different. This had been casual, out in the open, right before your eyes. You had been at a bar, because the two of you were hunting for a bounty, and Fennec needed intel. You, unlike her, didn’t mind having to play a part to find out information from people, which was why, when all was said and done, the two of you made such a great team.

She was the hunter, you the gatherer, and hey, if you also enjoyed the benefit of the occasional rough, possessive sex that resulted from flirting with a stranger or two—mainly because you knew it would get you the information you wanted but secretly because you knew she was watching and you knew it would make her jealous—well, could anyone really blame you?

You had been chatting with a group of women, leaning casually up against the bar. You had just decided that they truthfully did not possess any of the information you desired, and were turning around to leave when you heard one of them, Callie, you think that her name was, hassling one of her friends to go dancing.

It had stung, this open display of disgust, as if what you were was bad, as if it was something wrong that needed to be corrected. And unlike faceless people on the Holonet, this wasn’t something that was so easily shaken or let go of, even though she hadn’t said it directly to your face.

A harsh suck on your clit followed by a quick swipe of Fennec’s tongue rapidly brings you back to yourself, drawing out a gasp, your thighs squeezing on instinct.

“Mm,” you cry out, before your lips are pressing together and you’re trying to stifle the noise, because for some reason this, too, feels wrong.

Selfish, the soft but insistent voice in your head no longer whispers. Instead it shouts. Shouts that you’re selfish, that here she is, giving you everything, and what do you give her, what do you do for her in return? All you do is lie there, and you take it, and what could possibly please her when that’s the extent of what you’re doing?

Lazy, selfish, manipulative.

The voice is like a teasing sing song, a mantra echoing and echoing until you’re biting down on your lip, not wanting to hear your own sounds, because there’s a part of you that thinks you don’t deserve to be making them, don’t deserve her and the pleasure she’s so intent upon giving you.

Lazy...selfish...

Silence.

Your breath heaves as your hips lift up, searching for her mouth, your core suddenly empty and cold now that it’s no longer enveloped by its heat. But it’s not there, she’s sat back on her heels, gazing up at you with a crease between her eyebrows and a frown on her pursed, glistening lips as she tilts her head, wordlessly scrutinizing your face.

You squirm, hips reaching for her once more but her hands are quick, drifting in one fluid motion from your thighs to your hips, lightly pushing them back down as she gazes at you, the softness in her eyes that she only saves for you still present but shadowed, obscured by her sharp, quiet contemplation as she crawls up the bed and takes your chin between long fingers.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks as if her face hasn’t just been buried between your legs for the past 10 minutes.

Something stirs within you. Guilt, twisting like a knife in your stomach. You wish you could say it was her, that she was everything you were thinking about and make the whole moment romantic instead of fucking it up and ruining it with your own insecurities...but you can’t.

Or rather, you won’t, because lying to her, especially when she’s looking at you like this, eyes dark, soft, but silently demanding an answer. You crumble beneath the weight of it and will always, always end up spilling the truth.

Still, it doesn’t mean you can’t try to evade her questioning if only to try and save yourself the discomfort of having to explain it.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say quietly, trying to shake off her concern with a barely there shake of your head. “Sorry. I’m just tired, I guess.”

“Mm,” she hums, clearly unconvinced. She studies you unmoving, then reaches up, finger absently tracing the outline of your lips. “I don’t believe you.”

Your inhale comes in slightly sharp. Her tone is blunt, but still hasn’t risen beyond a whisper. She strokes your cheek with her thumb, and you instinctively tilt into the touch, even as your heart races.

“I-It shouldn’t matter,” you say stubbornly, biting the inside of your cheek.

“But it does,” she counters quietly. “Clearly it matters to you, so by default, it also matters to me.”

She leans in, lips delicate as they graze the shell of your ear, the smallest hint of teasing entering her voice now as she speaks.

“Especially considering you’re usually so easy for me,” she purrs, and you can feel the warmth of her breath on your skin. “I can usually have you coming twice on my tongue in 10 minutes if I want to.”

Your cheeks flush, and her hands drift lazily down your sides.

“And let me tell you, sweetheart,” she continues, fingernails slowly raking against your hips. “I very much want to.”

She pauses, hands settling at your thighs, thumbs skating dangerously close to where you’re beginning to ache for her once more.

“So what was it?” she asks, even as her thumbs drift to your folds and deliberately begin spreading them apart.

“What?” you ask, blinking up at her, confused.

She smirks, but doesn’t stop as she shifts, nudging your thighs apart once more, settling back on her heels as she peers at what’s between, her thumbs still holding you open.

“Like I said, so very easy for me,” she murmurs almost to herself as her fingers just barely glide through your folds, collecting your arousal. A soft hitch of your breath falls from your lips even as your cheeks go pink.

“That woman you were talking to at the bar, sweetheart,” she reminds you, fingers ever so slowly tracing the outline of your cunt. “The one in that dress that was the most unflattering shade of orange.”

“T-That isn’t very nice, Fennec,” you say, trying to chide, even as the only thing that’s running through your brain right now is touch me, touch me, touch me.

“Oh yeah? Well, we both know that I’m not known for being very nice,” she says, shrugging. As if to prove it, her fingers drift upward, lightly pinching at your clit. You squeak, instinctively jumping to pull back. A hand on your hip stops you, but she doesn’t do it again.

She doesn’t go near your clit again either, her fingers instead lightly circling around your entrance, and honestly, you’re not sure which is worse.

“And you’re stalling,” she points out, one finger just barely dipping inside before just as quickly retreating once more. “Why?”

“Fennec,” you whine, but are quickly silenced when she pulls her fingers away from your pussy and instead presses them against your lips.

“Shh,” she breathes, her fingers lightly pushing past your lips, eyes smouldering as you instinctively begin to suck, knuckles lightly pressing down against your tongue. “You tell me what’s made you upset, and I’ll give you what you want.”

She pulls her fingers out, gently wiping them off on your still-parted lips. To your dismay, she doesn’t return them to between your legs, instead letting them drift to your chest, her warm hands gently cupping and squeezing at your breasts, all rough calluses and long, dextrous fingers that occasionally tweak at your nipples.

“I, she, she made a joke about pillow princesses, that’s all,” you say, hating how stupidly pathetic the whole thing sounds out loud. “It wasn’t directed at me. It just, it made me feel...”

You trail off, instinctively biting down on your bottom lip, as if saying it aloud will suddenly make it all true.

“Made you feel what, sweet girl,” she prompts, and gods, the way that she says those words is so uncharacteristically soft, devoid of any teasing or venom, and the hand that brushes down your stomach now feels almost soothing in its touch. Your eyes burn, and you swallow, a quiet, rough breath falling from your lips as fingertips glide up and down your thighs, light and repetitive.

“I-It makes me feel like I don’t do enough for you. Like I’m, like I’m lazy, and I’m selfish because I don’t do the same things for you that you do for me.”

The words tumble from your lips, unable to be held back at her continuous gentle probing. The touch on your thighs doesn’t cease, doesn’t stop in its movements even once you’ve stopped talking.

“First of all, the fact that you’re worrying about me and what I get out of this clearly demonstrates that you’re not selfish,” she says, her lips twitching upward into a wry smile. “But as for your other concerns...”

Her eyes sweep around the luxury hotel room the two of you are staying in, one of the few perks that comes with tracking down the target of a particularly rich client who has spare credits to throw around, before catching and landing on something at the foot of the bed.

“Come here,” she says, lightly tapping at the edge of the mattress. “Sit here on your knees.”

You look up at her, a mixture of confusion and curiosity playing on your expression, but you push yourself up onto your elbows nonetheless, crawling towards her before stopping at the edge of the bed, settling on your knees, just as she had asked.

That’s when you catch sight of the full-length mirror draped against the wall across from you.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I can’t instantly just make you believe that you are enough,” she says, moving around behind you, her chest grazing lightly against your back. “But I can make you see what I see.”

Her hands are back on your thighs, but rougher this time, demanding, and you are completely unresisting as she slowly eases them apart.

“Look at that,” Fennec coos, still holding your thighs wide apart. “How could you think I’m not enjoying myself, when this is the view I'm getting?”

You blush as you look at yourself in the mirror, at the goosebumps that prickle up and down your sides as your pussy is exposed to the air.

“B-But is it enough for you?” you ask, your voice little more than a hesitant whisper breathed into the air.

You look down, self-consciously gnawing on your lip. Fennec makes a low noise, soft but disapproving as she catches your chin.

“Look at you,” she says, and just a hint of sternness creeps into her voice, brushing against your ear as she leans close enough to send a jolt of eager anticipation straight between your legs despite your lingering doubts.

“I’ll show you how enough you are to me.”

She holds your chin for a moment, keeping your gaze squarely directed at yourself, her tight grip a warning before she lets go, fingers trailing down your side, your stomach, and you’re so worried she’s going to keep teasing that it completely takes you off guard when instead, two fingers part your folds, taking their time as they gather up your wetness, before gliding back upwards and delicately stroking your clit.

The touch isn’t much, just slow, repetitive stroking with the occasional circle, but you’re so sensitive, your hips are already tilting into it, unable to keep still as she pleasures you.

“Bet it won’t take much,” Fennec observes, a low chuckle in her voice. “Bet you’re so on edge, I could make you come just by doing this.”

You whine, not wanting to agree for fear of sounding pathetic. But really, she’s right. In your state, the soft, tempting brush of her fingers might just be enough to carry you through to an orgasm. And really, how embarrassing is that?

“Now that wouldn’t be much fun, would it?”

She gives you no time to respond. As soon as the question has left her lips her hand is sliding down, taking a moment to appreciatively cup the heat of your mound before two fingers are teasing apart your folds, pressing inside until they sink down to the knuckle. Her palm grinds against your clit, equally as unrelenting as her fingers curl upward, and just like that, you are lost, all embarrassment forgotten as your lips part in an unseemly moan.

“Fuck,” Fennec groans, eyes darkening as she gazes over your shoulder into the mirror. You feel her lean, solid muscles pressing against your back, gasping as she languidly rolls her hips, leaning down to nip at your shoulder as she enjoys the sensation of pressing herself against your ass.“I could come just from watching you, you know that? Just look at how tempting you are.”

Her free hand works its way into your hair, tugging until you look exactly where she wants you to, just in time to watch your own eyes widen and lose focus through the reflection of the mirror as she smoothly rocks her fingers up into you.

You can see her eyes, dark, watching, enthralled, as if nothing more in the world matters to her than the simple act of getting you off. Still, doubts creep in, even as mindless sounds fall from your lips and you eagerly begin rocking your hips against her hand, meeting her every thrust with abandon.

“That’s it,” she coos, leaning forward to press her nose against your neck and inhaling, shivers dancing up and down your spine as she stays there, occupying herself with finding that one familiar spot on your neck she enjoys, the one that always leaves you breathless, now being no exception. When she finally brushes over it with her lips, a high, broken noise follows soon after as she indulges it with a slow, fluttering drag of her tongue.

Her fingers grasp at your chin, their grip light this time. When she tilts your face up towards hers, her lips are soft and gentle as she leans down to melt them against yours in a slow, surprisingly tender kiss, despite the way her fingers are still pressed inside you, curling and twisting in that confident, steady rhythm that always manages to drive you crazy and your brain to short out with desire and pure, unadulterated need.

“There’s no need to rush this,” she murmurs, the soft breath accompanying her words warm against your lips. It’s as if she can read your mind, as if she can hear every lingering doubt and uncertainty still nagging at you without you having to say a word.

She guides your chin back towards your reflection in the mirror, letting her chin drop to rest on your shoulder, gazing with open arousal and want as she watches her fingers work between your spread thighs.

“As eager as I am to watch you fall apart, I’m in no hurry to pull my fingers out of this pretty little pussy.”

For some reason this, ironically, is the thing that sends you over the edge and makes you shatter.

She wants this. She wants you, not because she has some expectation of what you might do for her in return, but just because this, you, right now, is what she wants. And even though you struggle to comprehend why that might be at the moment, the quiet, arousal-soaked words so filthy as they’re whispered against your heated skin yet somehow still laced with the quiet, steady reassurance she always has unflinchingly given you, is exactly the permission that you didn’t know you needed to let go.

“Fennec,” you gasped, every other word smoothly being erased from your mind as if it’s a clean slate. You’re now keenly aware of how tightly your toes are curled beneath you, every quiet hitch in the mattress as your legs ceaselessly begin to shake, until suddenly they’ve stopped, because every muscle in your body has locked up, going tense as your release crashes into you like a wave.

Warm, fiery heat licks its way down your stomach and your tense and trembling thighs. All the while, Fennec’s fingers continue to thrust, fucking you through it even as your vision blurs, your back arching even as your mind goes blank, thoughtlessly trying to take her deeper.

Somehow, she keeps you upright. Somehow, slowly, your awareness sharpens to more than just the way your walls flutter and contract around her fingers before they carefully slip out of you. Somehow, you find yourself lying down on the bed, pillows strategically placed beneath you to prop up your hips.

Her hair tickles your stomach, soft, wet kisses mindlessly pressed against your navel as her head simply rests there. You look down at her, blinking slowly, still trembling as you come down from your high.

“Think you can take more?” she asks, her words a soft hum against your skin.

“For you? Anything,” you say, your voice still shaky and breathless.

“I knew you’d say that,” she says, her words low and sultry before her tongue slowly drags along your skin, sweeping from just beneath your belly button all the way down to your mound, pausing before she pulls back only slightly to blow a teasing stream of air directly at your clit. Your hips jump, torn between sensitivity and eagerness, and a hitched breath falls from your parted lips as she looks up at you and smirks.

“How could you think yourself lazy when you’re so eager to come for me,” she asks, not really expecting an answer. “Are you still wondering what I get from this, pretty girl?”

You bite your lip, shivering as you look down at her once again between your legs. The image is familiar, but it still manages to make your throat feel dry, and all you can do is nod.

“I get this,” she says, before her tongue snakes out to teasingly circle around your clit. “I get you, lying here and looking so pretty.”

Her hands slowly settle on your knees, pressing them upward until they’re against your chest. She pushes them apart before returning to your clit, sucking the now swollen bud into her mouth until you’re arching and squirming beneath her.

“I get you spread out and willing and eager to take whatever I give you,” she continues, taking a moment to admire your position before settling your legs over her shoulders. Do you realize how much of a turn on that is for me?”

“N-Not really?” you admit, and there is a breathy, self-conscious giggle in your voice.

“Well then,” she says, a smug challenge in her voice.

She doesn’t break eye contact with you as her mouth lowers, her tongue flat as it circles your entrance before pressing in and out in one, two, three deliberate strokes that have you whimpering, your eyes fluttering shut as your hips eagerly lift towards her just-as-wanting mouth.

“I am happy to show you.”

Well, I don’t know about you, but I certainly had fun writing that😏 i’ve been dying to get my hands on writing for Fennec/reader for suuch a long time. Just was waiting for the right moment to scratch the itch. Comments/reblogs are super Duper appreciated.💕 thanks so much for reading

#seriously though #🔪👀��#fennec shand x reader #fennec shand #reader insert #the book of boba fett #the mandalorian #star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian smut #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch smut #smut

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