Regardless of whether she's the top or the bottom, Deren would prefer her partner to do most of the work. It's not for any selfish reason, in a way. She'd happily take you to indescribable heights of exhaustion at your behest if she had the energy, and that's the problem. Lacking inspiration can really take the fire out of someone, you know?
It does prompt a bet, though.
cw: smut (men & minors DNI), power bottom!deren, service top!reader, reader cries in horny frustration, newsflash: reader humiliates themself and doesn't realize they're into it
You tend to be too cocky for your own good sometimes, and your overzealous imagination of making Deren lose composure makes you buckle the harness on with a bit more gusto than usual.
But Deren doesn't break; she unfurls for you like a flower slow to bloom.
She somehow finds the vigor she had claimed to lack in the sparks of pleasure racing up her spine as you stuff her pussy with your strap. She doesn't shudder or twitch as much as you do whenever the positions are swapped. She takes your thrusts lying down, cushioned and supported by pillows from every angle, as if she could ever get a cramp like this. She lets her arms lazily splay above her head like she just woke up from a nap, her dark hair messily sprawled on top of the sheets like a star-speckled river. A pleasured sigh leaves her in between bouts of absentminded praise.
When you lean down to kiss her, you catch your own ruined reflection in her irises as she coyly squints up at you. Wordlessly confident as ever.
You have to hide from her perceptive gaze in the crook of her neck just to keep your hips from stuttering. Not that it helps. The smell of her cologne holds you like a leash, keeping you kissing and whimpering into the slender column of her throat like a needy, desperate dog.
Deren acknowledges your submissive display with nothing more than a hum and her hand cradling the back of your head to push your face into her harder.
Her adamance at doing absolutely nothing while you whine each time your hips collide makes you want to fuck her to tears; it's what your dignity demands, but you just keep beating her to the punch, the overwhelm breaking out of your throat in a weak sob as you feel her tighten around you. You pray she falters even if it's just a little bit. Your pride stings. You can't care less about the amount of DisCoins riding on this stupid bet you instigated.
You gnaw your reddened lip, sniffling. God. What the hell even is Deren? You're sure you can get her to whimper or something. She's only human—your girlfriend at that. You should know what gets her to tick by now.
Under the haze of your own desperation, you grip her hips tighter and pettily abuse her fluttering walls like a woman who refuses to give up. Your hair clings to the sides of your face, your arms straining to hold you up as the bed wanes and groans beneath you two. You're incredulous at how even the bedframe is louder than her groans. The bedframe.
You're so turned on by the embarrassment that it hurts. Why can't she just shed a tear or two? Is wanting her to cry your name like how you do for her too much to ask for?
You're not even upset about it at this point. You just want to see Deren completely undone under you. You need to see what she'd look like. She'd be as handsome as ever without question, heaving and a little helpless to you spoiling her greedy hole, fists clenching in the sheets or—fuck, scratching down your back and leaving deep red welts you'd feel for days. Whatever she wanted. Just the mental image of Deren's perceptive gaze going all hazy and unfocused makes the hot desire roiling in your stomach smolder. You're getting so wet at imagining her calm voice fracture on the soft syllables of your name, even when she's just cooing at you right now, letting you feel her soft groan echoing in her chest as you lie your cheek down.
You'd be so generous with her. If only she could just give you more than a little tease.
"You're getting sloppy." Deren leisurely brushes her bangs out of her eyes before using that same hand to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet her amused gaze. "What do you want me to do, baby? Want me to go on my hands and knees, hm? Might help you hit a little deeper."
You whine, feeling her cunt squeeze down on you. "Yes, yes, please, Deren, want you so bad. Please—"
"You're really going the full mile, huh? Okay, okay, I'll order from our favorite takeout place after this. Forget the bet."
HEJAHSHAHSBABSBAHHAHAHS I FINALLY FINISHED THE FIC ACKKKKK it's legit been in my drafts for DAYS.
Life stuff has been going on and uh honestly the realm of unfamiliarity that comes with a new stage in life is not one I want to tread just yet!
So, obviously, best way to cope is via Deren pwp.
I love her as much as I love Shawn ahahjjajahahsha oughfjh I wish aisno gave us more masc-presenting women... I do love Xiaofeng, actually! I'm thinking about writing something for her when I got the time. I'm not familiar w her character beyond her featured event w Jichuan, so feel free to send in asks about her hehehe (Im slowly trying to learn more about the other characters) I'll update my list for chars I write for in a bit
Now that I'm a little more free and balancing life a tad better, I'll get back to answering asks! I miss my anonnies sighh Im sorry for neglecting you guys
OK LIFE UPDATE DONE I love you guys pls take care of yourselves andd I'll get back to horny-posting sooner or later 🤍
summary: having to clench your fists in your lap while deren sits barely three inches away from you, wearing the most ridiculously handsome outfit you've seen her in, forces you to confront the same old demons that've plagued you since the first time deren's existence got your panties wet. you've identified them as your shame, your affinity for beauty, and your uncontrollable greed.
featuring: deren
content warnings: smut (men & minors DNI), power bottom!deren, service top!reader, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, squirting, semi-public sex (you eat her out in the back of a car), praise (reader receiving), reader is afab, deren uses her sinner powers to stop time for a hot sec, reader is implied to work in the aesthetic field (i was thinking an art curator but feel free to fill in the blanks yourselves), deren wears her midnight fantasia outfit
author’s note: this might just be the peak of my self-indulgence. i was originally going to write a version with g!p deren to pay proper homage to my friend and i's original joke, but i realized i'd have to change so many details that i figured i should just post this first and feel out how i want to go about the second version. also, i really really love deren's midnight fantasia outfit and it was actually what got me into playing ptn, so expect the reader to be very uh "riled up" by the outfit as much as i was.
art credits: i adore you, teacher (rangrarii)
crossposted on ao3!
If anyone were to ask you what life’s like now that you’ve known the feel of Director Deren’s bed, you wouldn’t really know what to say. You wouldn’t know which instance of carefully shot debauchery would be able to fully encapsulate the sort of mischief that a certified creative lunatic like Deren can cobble together with a hard enough dick. And you, being her chosen star and enraptured lover, can do nothing but helplessly follow her vision to a T.
That blind amour you hold for your celebrity girlfriend has led you to many spots. Right now, it’s the back of a limousine with faint music coming through the installed speakers.
The designer who made Deren’s outfit for tonight’s film festival called it “Midnight Fantasia.” Each little curated detail draws your eye to an enticing snippet of Deren’s body meticulously exposed by the subtle openings in the ensemble; sitting on top of her messily styled hair is a pair of red film strips attached to glinting silver frames—the sort of sunglasses that’d look cheap and gimmicky if it weren’t for the expensive blood-red tint bleeding through the entirety of the lenses, giving the scenes behind and in front of them that signature high-contrast look only achieved by a photographer’s priceless wratten number twenty-five. As you dare yourself to glance past the faux oblivious look on Deren’s face (faux, because someone as detail-oriented as Deren can’t possibly miss how obvious you are right now, hungry with want as she sits, unbothered, pretending to watch the city lights blur past across the lake under the busy highway), you feel something in your chest constrict once your shy gaze lands on the choker around her neck and the thick silver jewelry hanging below it.
“Hey, still doing good?” You hear Deren’s drawl, and while it sounds miles away, the faint thread of amusement hanging on isn’t lost on you. You just can’t tear your eyes away from how her slender throat swallows after, shifting the crimson velvet sitting on top.
You’re so obsessed it’s ridiculous. Clearly, you need to be sedated.
“Can you repeat that? Sorry, I’m just…” Alright, a good excuse. C’mon, you’ve got a good excuse rattling around in your head somewhere. “Tired?” From the thirty-minute nap you just took? “I-I pulled an all-nighter, uh, yesterday.” So relevant. What else? “Or something.” Perfect.
Dumbass.
You try not to wince as you flash Deren a smile. God, she’s not going to buy that. Deren wouldn’t judge you for eyeing her up like she’s just a sexy cardboard cut-out of your favorite actor placed in front of a movie theater, but it’s precisely because she welcomes your attention so casually that your stomach flips just thinking about what she’ll do about it.
But Deren, as if sensing your attention, lazily smiles back. Her squinted eyes don’t betray even a hint of her thoughts as she turns back to the tinted windows. “Help yourself to another nap then,” she says, “it’s rush hour, so we’re going to be on this highway for a while. Just let me know if you’re hungry.”
Cool. Another hour or two in the same car as Deren. Stewing in your self-inflicted horniness, itching to touch her. Cool.
You try to be normal again. You pick under your manicured nails, cycle through three ways to cross your legs, fidget with your hair—and, desperate to take your mind off of the absurdly attractive director a few inches to your right, you even knock on the divider separating the driver from the two of you in the backseat. You ask him to change the song playing in the car to some obnoxious pop song that’s been circulating DisMyth for the past week. He does. The divider slides back closed. It doesn’t work. Not only are you horny, but now you’ve also got the lyrics of that stupid song cutting in between the mental image of dragging Deren’s ass to the edge of the car seat and eating her out sloppy-style like your life depended on it.
You smush the side of your face against the cold window, mitigating the heat flooding through you only by a margin. It’s enough to make you sigh and continue to silently wallow in your misery.
Nothing’s going to change. You can’t do anything. Deren herself isn’t even doing anything, and yet here you are, falling all over yourself, wanting nothing more than to hear her moans in the small space of this luxury car’s backseat as her windows fog from the heat rolling off your bodies like sweat and desire.
Your gaze drifts again, and you’ve shamefully given up on the virginal pretense of pretending Deren isn’t this extraordinary mix of handsome and beautiful. You blame yourself for being such an aesthete.
Behind heavy eyelids, you watch that careless way Deren plucks her sunglasses off her head with one hand and uses her gloved one to push her hair back. The black leather blends in with her effortlessly stylish image, asymmetrical to provoke interest. And as it drops back onto her lap, you greedily chase the motion until you stop at the open collar of her blouse. The peek of skin has you biting your lip. The open style is so relaxed that it’s obviously intentional. The “scandelousness” is a big part of the appeal. When the press bombards your faces with cameras at the film center’s entrance later, netizens are going to blow up their feeds with photos of Deren’s stupidly sexy blouse, going on and on about how it looks good on her, how good she looks in it, how tempting it’d be to ghost a touch along her abs.
(Scratch the fans, you’ve got a bone to pick with the designer behind that top because who makes a blouse with just two buttons?)
You lick your lips. You sigh. Again.
This time, when you meet Deren’s prodding gaze, the veil of obliviousness previously shrouding her expression has fallen away to display her unfettered amusement, her eyes clear like starlight as she smirks.
“Hungry?” she asks.
“Yeah,” you exhale shakily.
Deren spreads her legs.
Your pupils dilate. Fuck. Okay, you’re doing this now. You don’t waste any more time and scramble to get in between them as if this fantasy would dissolve in a second’s hesitation.
“Oh, you look good from this angle.” The smooth leather of Deren’s glove combs through your hair, dragging your senses out of the merciless buzz of want and taking back your focus as you dive forward to kiss the toned expanse of her stomach. You feel her chuckle resonate a little higher up as you kiss down her navel. The heat from her body makes you dizzy. “Not a lot of people can look as enticing as you do from the top-down perspective. You’ve got a natural talent.”
“For… Being on my knees?” Your face burns. “A little on the nose, don’t you think?”
Deren’s sleepy eyes squint in that cryptic way they usually do. “It’s however you want to interpret it.” She smiles. Her body moves like silk as she relaxes into the leather carseat, and while the shifting of fabric atop a stunning figure feeds your aesthetic appetite, you’re naturally drawn to how her other hand casually settles on top of her belt buckle, silver-adorned fingers caressing the deceptively simple accessory.
With permission like that, there’s no way to interpret it as anything but the declaration of undeniable, mutual desire.
You get yourself comfortable on your knees. One round is bound to tumble into another. Ignoring your own throbbing center has become a defined skill in the field of servicing your dearest director, and while the wait and lack of attention can get unbearable at times, somehow you find yourself managing to finish anyway just by feeling her clench around you and groan from her drawn-out release. An untouched, sticky mess in your underwear is a small embarrassment you’re willing to bear just to see Deren well and truly disheveled any time.
So while it’d be nice to slip a hand between your legs, you push the urge down and instead deftly undo Deren’s belt. The metal buckle clicks as the leather is pulled from the loops and hits the car’s carpeted flooring with a dull thump.
Deren tilts her head. “Hope we don’t forget that before getting out of the car…” For her nonchalance, she doesn’t bother controlling the hint of red dusting the tips of her ears.
“There’s no way we would,” you reply, dubious.
“Because you’ve been staring at me for the entire car ride?”
You knew you weren’t being subtle. “Very perceptive of you, Director Deren,” you mutter, sheepish.
You quickly undo her fly. The faster you get her pants off and your mouth on her pussy, the better. The heavy fabric bears more of the cosmetic weight than the rest of Deren’s outfit, ran up with bold red stitches across printed patches sewn on the edges before the legs flare with more black gabardine.
“Off.” You pat her knee. Deren cooperates and lifts her hips, letting you carefully shimmy the insanely expensive article of clothing down her legs before shaking the caught fabric off her dress shoes, which you also help her slip off, carefully setting the pair aside.
“Fuck.” Heat shoots up your spine. Your hands, which you’ve absentmindedly decided to rest on top of Deren’s thighs, feel so much of the warmth her body is radiating. Or maybe it’s just yours. You don’t think it’s from the pants. Obviously, you’re not that clueless. It doesn’t help that Deren’s skin is soft to the touch and unblemished by even a single freckle. You’d figure the fact alone that Deren even let you take her pants off would be a big enough indicator that she doesn’t just tolerate but also wants your touch, but… Seriously. Is Deren insane? Shouldn’t some A-list actor be in your place right now? What is someone like Deren doing with someone like you?
“You’re absurd.” Despite yourself, you can’t tear your eyes away from the way her abs tense as you caress her thighs. Glancing up, you notice Deren’s placid expression is done over with a hazy flush that still doesn’t betray her composure. Her gray eyes look like silver moons as the corners of her lips tick upwards. Patiently, she brushes your hair out of your face as this little world you two share in the backseat continues to be bathed in the cool reds and oranges of stagnant tail lights outside the dark windows like you had all the time in the world.
“Thanks,” she muses.
“If someone looks in…”
“Right, right, scandals.” She sighs. “Headlines are gonna be hard to ignore with a picture of your face in my cunt printed on every tabloid article handed out in Eastside. My assistant would be hard-pressed to salvage my reputation, my career’s going to be in the gutter, and you’ll be so embarrassed that you’ll break things off with me and leave without looking back.”
Your face twists in horror. “No.”
“No? Was that… Not the direction you were going in?” she innocently prods.
Your fingers twitch on top of her knee. “It’s just—I’m… I’m surprised you’re not stopping me.”
Something like understanding flickers in her eyes. She hums, thumb thoughtfully rubbing away the crease between your brows that you weren’t even aware of. “I know this is a little different from what we usually do, but it’s kind of thrilling, isn’t it?”
You slowly nod.
You feel the heat radiating from her palm as she cups the back of your hand. You know where this is going, but you can’t bring yourself to flinch back as she makes you caress her inner thigh, and your own shyness helplessly crackles like a fizzling electrical socket overwhelmed by its own sparks. Your hand is smearing cold sweat over her pristine skin, and you swear you hear her moan as if she’s getting off on your fluster. With your fingertips ghosting the seam of her boxers, you belatedly realize this is the closest you’ve gotten to her cunt this entire night. You’re going to die.
“Deren—”
Her gloved finger lazily urges you to slide your index up and down her clothed slit, and Deren herself bites her lip with the simper of a privileged feline finally getting what she wants, utterly apathetic to your shaky breathing disturbing the air beyond finding it arousing.
“You’re asking me why I’m not stopping you,” she drawls, “but who said anything about getting caught?”
You don’t even notice it at first, but the subtle shift in the air and the pattering raindrops slowing to a stop make the hair on your arms stand. The realization hits you. “Your sinner powers…?”
Deren inclines her head in place of a nod, the gray in her eyes gleaming brighter at how the tension seems to leave your body all too easily. Like you’re endearing.
You feel the worry leave your body as you anchor yourself to the moment. You close your eyes and breathe deep the scent of Deren’s cologne intermingling with the fragrance of mint until your care for the world beyond this is completely stolen from you, leaving only Deren in your trembling hands, which you steady and use to drag her to the edge of the leather seat. Your half-lidded gaze meets hers as you dip your thumbs into the waistline of her boxers, and with her low hum of permission, you make sure she feels the weight of your hands as you peel the soaked fabric off of her.
“So pretty,” you breathe out, kissing a hungry line of kisses down her navel as her flushed cunt pulses from the cold air. Your ears burn as Deren’s moan scores across your nape, your vision blurring like your mind doesn’t know which way to savor her best, only that you have to feel her. So you wet your fingers with your mouth before eagerly sliding them over the dark thatch of her cunt and between her soaked folds to find her clenching hole. You circle the soft rim like you’re petting her, and the teasing motion earns you the sight of Deren’s stupidly sexy shirt falling open a little more as her back arches and her hips jerk forward. “Feels nice? Should I do more?”
Obviously you should do more. Your eyes are glazing over at the sight of her, the heat boiling your face that you probably couldn’t be able to figure out what face you’re making right now, even with a mirror in front of you.
You fit a finger inside and swallow the urge to moan at how tight she is. She’s sucking you in, her body growing lax as she tries to push her hips down on that single digit. Deren groans, and it kicks your entire nervous system into action; you dip your head between her spread legs. She’s velvet-soft against your lips as your tongue delves between her folds, and she tastes divine. Hot—It’s so hot. And it’s not just a metaphor. When that paranoid part of you prompts you to glance at the windows, they’re so fogged that it’d be ridiculous to keep worrying about being seen. Thinking about Deren being so aroused that each thrust of your finger teases out a filthy squelch makes you squeeze her thigh to ground yourself, lest you start grinding your own cunt over your heel.
“Mmh… Your fingers always treat me so well,” Deren purrs. Your stomach curls as her praise pours into your ears like honey. Each word is rich with her pleasure. “And look at you, pretty girl, following me perfectly. Come on, just a little deeper…”
You’re weak. You’re utterly weak for that leisurely firmness she speaks in. You exhale harshly, steam rising from your flushed face as you wiggle your finger in deeper just as she asked. This is what being Deren’s star entailed—getting to see her wanton desires laid out like a screenplay and being expected to hit every plot beat like a rookie actor jumping through hoops to impress their superiors. And you don’t know how bad it is that you’re pretty happy to keep jumping through every flaming hoop to satisfy Deren’s needs. Who else has ever gotten close enough to see the stars in this elusive director’s eyes? Even without watching her interviews and reading the blogs of her diehard fans, you know that the masses can’t handle many things about her—her lunacy, most of all, but also who she is when she’s out of the director’s seat.
You would know. You’ve made her arch off of it a hundred times. That’s enough familiarity to tell you that curling your finger just-so makes her—
“Mm…!” A full-body tremble races up Deren’s spine as she seizes your wrist, her head falling back against the backseat, and her sunglasses clattering somewhere behind her. Her chest heaves, and her stomach tenses as beads of sweat roll down the exposed skin you can see.
You feel a little mischievous. “Here?” You push your finger deeper inside, knuckles kissing her folds, and stroke along her clenching walls just to miss her sweet spot.
Deren squeezes her eyes shut and forces a laugh, her painted nails digging into your skin. “Someone’s getting cocky…”
The pain bites at your wrist. You wince and quickly correct your angle lest your hand pops off like a firecracker. “I-It was an, uh, genuine question,” you stammer. Apologetic kisses are pressed along her thighs and—thankfully—she changes her grip, now gently threading through your hair. Not that it means she buys your flimsy excuse, but Deren’s patience is godsent.
“You know how to touch me,” she sighs, her head lolling to the side as she watches you through half-lidded eyes. “Let me feel my girl doing a good job.”
She fists your hair and drags you into her cunt. You get the memo and continue where you left off, licking up the mess she’s making from the source. Your hot breath intermingles with the heat between her legs, her arousal tangy on your tongue, and faintly sweet enough that your mind absentmindedly thinks of pomegranates with their tart flavors. You’ve taken her apart like one enough times in the past—in wildly more inappropriate places—that innuendos about fingers wedging in between chunks of a fruit dripping with its juices fluster you more times than you can count. It’s too similar. Deren’s preference for roughness depends on the day, but your meticulous approach to her pleasure is like a well-steeped cup of coffee—she’d never pass it up. You’re always intentional to a fault, parting her legs, kissing the crease between pelvis and thigh, spreading her lower lips, watching her wetness trickle before claiming it with your tongue, feeling her grind against your face as the tightness in her core threatens to snap.
Cramped in the backseat, you’re not exactly given the luxury of spreading Deren out as you think she deserves, but you don’t let it stop you. You swirl your tongue around her stiff clit before taking it into your mouth and playing with it, plying Deren with enough pleasure that your second finger is accepted alongside the first one without a struggle.
“F-Fuck…” She pants, fisting your hair as her body tenses. “Fuck. Oh… You really want to be my good girl, huh? Don’t stop, just like that. J-Just… Just like that.”
Deren’s groan has you clenching your legs together as you focus on your pace, ignoring the cramps creeping into your arm and jaw. She’s murmuring praise, words jumbling together with her moans as it gets harder and harder for her to think beyond you working her closer to the edge. Her slick is trickling down your knuckles, pushed out as your fingers coax open her pliant pussy. Another gush follows a particularly hard throb. You moan, and it vibrates against her swollen bud. She violently clenches down around you with a curse, holding you in like that.
God, you wish you’d brought the strap. You wish you could push Deren’s legs back and do what you’ve been craving to do for the past hour; you’ve wanted to tear her shirt open so badly and take her chest into your greedy hands, kneading and squeezing, before pinching her nipples in that way that makes her back arch and her hips jerk, all while her flushed pussy chokes on your thick strap, coating it in her slick, and she moans without a word in between, making her come over and over—however many times she liked—as if you were just her toy. Her favorite. Her only.
You hear the clink of jewelry before you realize Deren’s sitting up. You get even less time to collect yourself before she’s pushing you into her more insistently, a slight tremble in the way she grips your hair.
“How do you want me to finish, baby?” she huffs, “in your mouth? Yeah?”
You squeeze your eyes shut and moan against her, unable to bear the desire crushing your self-control. You can’t nod, so you plunge your fingers in as deep as they can go and massage her sweet spot with an intensity bordering on demanding, scraping it with quick and shallow thrusts. Deren makes a strangled noise above you, and you hear the squeak of fingers dragging against leather—then of a palm hitting glass. She desperately uses your face like a grinding pad, trying to stand despite the limited space just to get more control of her movement.
The car shifts on its wheels. The air inside has long since risen to a sweltering temperature, making your expensive evening attire cling to your backs, but neither of you seems to care. You just yank Deren closer, pushing her onto your wet mouth by her ass. Her legs tremble at your insistence. You don’t stop. You can’t, especially when she’s shuddering over you and unable to control the shakiness of her breath.
Come for me, please, please, please—
“Mhn!”
Pain spikes across your scalp just as Deren squirts into your mouth. Caught off guard, some trickles down your chin before you hurriedly take your fingers out and replace them with your mouth. Deren pants, her grip shakily relaxing as she cups the back of your head, rocking her pussy against you while your tongue provides her all the stimulation she could want, dipping in and out and licking around her entrance. It throbs with each wet swipe.
“Ah…” she murmurs, a tinge of satisfaction accompanying the loving caress of her thumb across your cheek. “S-So good for me, cleaning me up…”
As Deren collapses back onto the car seat, eyes already slipping shut as she holds her sweaty bangs back, you get the idea to slip your fingers back inside for her, letting her clench around you as you finally lean up to kiss her. The low hum that tiredly rumbles from the back of her throat lets you know that she can definitely taste herself, and unlike so many nitpicky elites (based on your assumptions), she doesn’t particularly mind. Nothing a breath mint—or a quick dip into the venue’s bathroom with a hygiene kit—can’t fix.
“Out.” Deren lazily gropes your ass through your outfit to punctuate the simple command, and you promptly slide your fingers out of her with a wet squelch. A pleased sigh escapes her, the emptiness blessedly satiated by your efforts. “Good girl.”
She pulls your hips down and seats you on her bare lap like a prized pet, simpering down at you while the gravity of what you just did dawns slowly on you. Her hand brushes down the curve of your back, and you can feel the impression of each silver ring rolling over your spine, pulling goosebumps up from your skin.
Damn it. Your one-week streak of no outdoor sex—broken, just like that. You groan into Deren’s chest, weak and flustered and mortified, and all she does is chuckle at your plight. The nerve. And yet, you still want to kiss her. Your desire for this woman is its own untameable beast.
“We can’t go to the premiere like this,” you deadpan.
Deren leisurely wraps her arms around your waist in a loose embrace, her eyes already falling shut as if she’s purposefully ignoring you. Makes you wonder what her assistant has to deal with on a daily basis. “I know.” She kisses the top of your head. “Rest is the number one priority before any socializing. I think we can squeeze in… An hour for a nap? Sounds pretty good to me.”
This stupid, sexy, bum of a woman.
You sigh and relent. Seeing as the raindrops have still ceased to move from their initial positions midair, you’ve decided that there’s really no harm in sleeping with Deren here in the backseat for a while. Worst case scenario, you two wake up not in the mood and decide to ditch the premiere entirely, though you doubt Deren would want to endure the rounds of interviews to make up for her absence.
But just as Deren’s ready to lie down across the seats, you smack her arm and grab her boxers off the floor with a huff. “At least put these back on,” you scold.
“Pft, what a bossy clapper,” Deren teases. Nevertheless, she takes the article of clothing—imagines it fresh and dry, for convenience—and slips it back on. “There, nothing too scandalous for the press to latch onto.”
With nothing else for you to complain about, she pulls you back into her arms and keeps you close as you both squeeze into the narrow row of seats, your legs tangling together like spotlight cables. The air grows colder again as you settle down. Deren’s heart is calm as you’re pressed close enough to hear it.
“You really were amazing,” her voice is a gentle purr. Earnest as someone like her can be.
Your eyes fall shut as you hum, heat crawling back up to your face. “I owe it to my experience. Do you know how hard it is to eat someone out in a car? It’s not beginner-friendly. I’m just…” You awkwardly clear your throat. “Glad. That you liked it.”
“Hmm?”
You pause. “That’s what we’re talking about, right…?”
You glance up at Deren and catch that indecipherable look on her face. Something coy and fond, as if she knew something you didn’t and found that cute. “Sure.” She’s clearly stifling a chuckle. She just pulls you tighter to her chest, your warm bodies blanketed by the traffic lights and stars. “Whatever you think it is, pretty girl.”
So while you are closer to Deren than most of Eastside is, the fact doesn’t change that there’s still a small gap you need to cross to fully understand her. Thankfully, you were born to pursue the mystique. You’re a chaser of what eyes can only hope to gaze at, and that trait is the one that’s gotten you so intricately intertwined with the definitive movements of a director in the first place. You won’t stop. How can you? Your heart pounds for novelty, and the life that Deren curates promises that in excess.
You sigh.
After this little stint, though, it wouldn’t hurt to practice some self-control.
SHAWN X DEREN X CINNABAR...... ACKEBHAVFHAHDH my friend and I cooked w that ugh I love shipping my favorite characters together even if they make 0 sense
welp.. sorry to disappoint you but manhwa old in body, young at heart, It's finished with only 6 chapters..
-🤭
WHAT. WHAT? Ugh it had so much potential for multiple chapters too ☹️ I honestly wish more yuri/gl hit the mainstream because it's so DIFFICULT finding good recommendations. I usually see the same 10 yuri/gls getting recommended, which is good !! Means they're getting popular ykyk—but mannn I've read those already 💔
But anyway, that's why I'm so happy when you send in some recs ! I love love love reading yuri hehe they really help my writing in a way.. (sososo much brainstorming)
i enjoyed your cinna drabble so much, wheels in my head started spinning faster... lemme rumble to you a bit.
cinnabar's used to helping others, being the one who protects and not the one protected. she's also been on the run, hiding in syndicate, so she's used to taking care of herself and not relying on anyone but herself as well, offering help but not receiving.
think about helping cinna relax, taking care of her instead, allowing a strong brave woman let herself go for a moment. cinna has to keep lots of things under control daily, she definitely deserves to have her sweet head emptied every now and then. she's a bit awkward as a top, so careful that her calloused hands tremble, but imagine her as a bottom? she's whining and gasping, eyes watery, trying to hide her beet red face in her hands, in a pillow, just turn away from your piercing gaze. it's not that she doesn't like what you're doing to her, oh she's absolutely loving the way your fingers caress her, or your pussy slides across her own, smearing your precum together, or the way you plant kisses and lick on her core. cinna's just never experienced anything like this before! it takes a while to soothe her tense muscles and convince her that you're enjoying it as much as she does, you're not forcing yourself and genuinely want to take care of her. it also takes some time to teach your lover girl to express her needs and desires, so you can pleasure her exactly where and the way she wants.
i also believe she's not the biggest fan of toys. she doesn't mind using them occasionally if you like them, but most of the time cinna wants you to feel her fully, and she wants to feel you as well: the warmth of your body, dampness of your sweat, spit, tears, blood pumping beneath your skin, the way you shiver and squeeze around her fingers and her fingertips wrinkle from your juices. she makes you cum just as fast and hard as any toy in the world! moreover, as someone without much experience cinnabar's probably mad sensitive and different vibrating toys might be too much for her, but if you're careful, encouraging and patient enough, she might get into in eventually... you can start slow with some accessories instead of actual toys! like a collar with a shiny dog tag spelling "cinna" in your handwriting and a leash, short and wrapped around your palm – don't mind her acting sheepish at first, she's loving it from the bottom of her heart... and her dripping cunt, too.
so uh yeah. yeahhh
HOLD ON. HOLD ON ??? Anonnie... You are COOKING with this. Let me ramble back at you.
cw: smut (men & minors DNI), sub bottom!cinnabar, dom top!reader, vaginal fingering, first time bottoming (cinnabar), pet play (reader just calls cinna "puppy"), porn with very minimal plot
Cinnabar sounds so, so, so cute jfhskdhgks what a sweet girl...
Just imagine her visiting you in your apartment after a mission just as promised, yet she's exhaling the deepest sigh you've ever heard out of her. Her hair's all mussed up with her tactical goggles askew—and upon giving her a proper once-over, you notice that Cinnabar's a mess. Nothing's torn, so kudos to the Research Institute working with Serpent Eye, but your poor girlfriend's already tiredly wrangling with each article of her uniform to get them off.
"Hope you weren't waiting for too long. There were some on-site complications and things... Escalated." Cinnabar shakes her head with a sigh, setting down her arm guard on the dresser before working on the various belts and buckles strapped to her waist. "No one got hurt, thankfully," she says, "it was just a little more exhausting today than usual. Must be because of the temperature."
As if remembering something, Cinnabar perks up and looks over to you discerningly. You tilt your head, smiling confusedly. Wow, Cinnabar sure has a way with making you feel like a kid whose hand was caught deep in the cookie jar.
"Have you been drinking enough water lately?" she asks. "The heat's nothing to sniff at when you're under direct sunlight for more than ten minutes."
You raise a brow.
She just started talking about how her day was going, and she somehow managed to pivot it towards her concern for you. This woman thinks about others too much, really. In any case, is she forgetting you live in a pretty decent apartment in Eastside? If awakening as a Sinner from a near-death experience triggered by heatstroke could actually happen, well, that'd be a little embarrassing.
"I'm fine. No trips outside for me this week. I've been checking the forecast, don't worry." You sigh fondly. "Come here already, why don't you?"
And even though she hasn't even gotten to undo her first belt yet, Cinnabar only hesitates for a second before obediently shuffling over to your side of the bed.
She tries to start, "I'll just finish getting undressed and—"
"No." You sit up from your lying position on the bed, letting your blanket slide off your shoulders as you pull her a little closer by the dangling yellow strip hanging from her waist. Cinnabar's face flushes immediately, and you just smile up at her. "I mean, you're pretty tired, right? Protecting people, saving lives, the whole thing... You'll need your energy for the next mission, right?"
"R-Right." Cinnabar gnaws her bottom lip, eyes wide yet her gaze adorably darting around the room, unable to look at you head-on. "I'm... Understanding this as we'll be resting together, in bed."
You shamelessly caress her inner thigh. "You can say that." You can't stifle your amusement.
Upon feeling your touch nearing her center, Cinnabar yelps in her throat and instinctually jerks away, prompting you to yank her back in by her belt loop. "Hold on!" she wheezes, flustered, clutching your wrist. "I've never—I've never been in your, um, spot. Before."
You don't miss a beat. "Want to try?"
Cinnabar's hold on you loosens. Slowly. Even then, she looks bewildered. "I won't have the energy to reciprocate after," she explains. The way she stresses each word makes it sound like the situation is more dire than it seems—totally different from how she'd usually avoid drawing attention to distressing circumstances. The worry in her eyes, her worry for you, is making you feel pretty hot and bothered. What a gentlewoman, seriously.
You need to finger-fuck her into the mattress now.
"I'm fine with that." And you pull her into bed.
The sheets rumple under Cinnabar's body as she quickly tries to orient herself, but you don't give her a moment to keep steady. With your advantageous position, unbuckling Cinnabar's pants all the way is just a matter of how you can get your hands to stop fumbling while you grapple with your smoldering, unbidden lust.
Suffice to say, your efforts proved rewarding once you two were in the thick of it.
"O-Oh, oh," Cinnabar breathes out. You hungrily watch the way her body unintentionally undulates onto your fingers, her hips shyly grinding down to help you nudge that sweet spot nestled deep inside her. Her pussy is as flushed as the rest of her, the heat not only cascading down her wanton expression and her firm chest but also hungrily sucking around your fingers like a greedy mouth.
You didn't know Cinnabar could be this needy. Subconsciously. Looking at her whimpering and breathing heavily under you, sweat glistening across the hard contours of her toned body, you feel a bit of a rush turning this vigilant canine into a little lap dog bred to be pampered until her strong body gives in and faints under your relentless spoiling.
(Too intense, actually... It's fine. You'll work her up to that point, because you refuse for this to be the last time.)
"Yeah, that's it. Get your fill, puppy," you coo, resting your cheek on top of her thigh. No doubt the muscle beneath jumps just from feeling your hair tickle her sensitive inner thigh. Precum and lubed generously glisten over Cinnabar's swollen folds, and it takes so much restraint for you to keep yourself from diving in and licking her mess up until she cries. The sight fuels your obsession to see more, so you angle your fingers and purposefully shove them as far as they can go.
You catch the moment Cinnabar's eyes roll back, adorably unfocused, as a strained noise escapes her. She gnaws her lip, looking anywhere but you, her brows furrowed like she's trying so hard to keep a hold of herself. You know the act's flimsy though. You smile, helping a trembling thigh stay open as you tease a second finger at her entrance.
"Like my fingers, puppy? Not as strong as yours, but they fuck you just fine, don't they?" you tease.
"You're cursing," Cinnabar whispers, delirious, hiding her red face in her palms. "You've never cursed before. Why are you—"
"I can't help it. You're stirring up some strong emotions in me, can't you feel it? Like, fuck, you're so... Sexy, honestly. Lying back and letting me take care of you like a good girl—"
She tightens up at that.
A grin slowly makes its way up your face as Cinnabar's breathing quickens. She knows you know.
"Yeah," your voice softens sensually, completely contrasting the way your fingers curl each time you bottom-out, roughly scraping her sweet spot and sending pleasure ricocheting up her spine. "Always taking care of others, taking assignments even in this heat just to protect people—so responsible too. Best of the best, right?"
"I-It's—"
"Just look at this stunning body... Fuck. And it's all for me to enjoy. You have to be capable for others, but I won't let you worry about a thing with me."
Cinnabar's clammy hands fist the sheets, her short bangs cling to her forehead, and her body pulls taut. "I know, I know," she chokes out.
"My puppy can even be as clumsy as she needs to be." You smile, endeared. Seeing her close to release, you roughly stroke her sweet spot with your fingertips. "You can even make a mess on my fingers. I want you to."
Cinnabar's body twists, trembling.
"Come on, show me my good dog... Come. Come, now."
Cinnabar bites her arm to muffle her yell as her orgasm crashes over her, violently rippling pleasure down to even the tips of her toes. Her legs tremble with the force. Her cunt spasms around you like her body can't decide if she wants you to pull out or keep fucking her through it.
Damn it. You are so, so, so wet. Cinnabar is amazing beyond the sense of the word.
After one pure, blissful, and utterly euphoric moment of granting your girlfriend the best orgasm of her life, she finally comes to.
You hum in reply, carefully pulling out of her. You try not to focus on the silk-like thread of cum stretching between her soft hole and your drenched fingers. Easier said than done, but you manage. You wipe your hand on your shirt and meet her lips in a lazy kiss before settling in her arms, preening proudly.
"How was it?"
"Good. I'm... I—I didn't know you knew how to, um, do that," she murmurs sheepishly.
You wink. "Learned from the best."
Cinnabar chuckles a little at that, relaxing around you as she sighs in exhaustion. "Thank you. I really needed that..."
"I'd happily do it again, by the way."
"I mean, sure, but—" Cinnabar pecks the top of your head— "let me show my gratitude next time." She smiles. Earnest as ever.
i been reading this manhwa called old in body, young at heart. I imagine that Shawn is a famous voice actor who is already old and on his social media people say that she should retire, but Shawn's friend recommends her to go to a shaman's place. And she recommends Shawn to meet a young girl (Reader). Shawn hires Reader to be a maid in his house, and after one night of ifykwim Shawn becomes young again.
-🤭
NONNIE I LOVE YOUR GL RECS SO MUCH ACKKKK !! I can't believe it's only got four chapters so far oml I was so ready to binge-read it too... I'll be keeping a close eye on any updates though hehe so here's to hoping the translators dont abandon it <3
Anyway, I absolutely love the little plot you made up for Shawn ! I think that'd fit her circumstance more since Shawn would never settle down with a man (yikes), so I'll work with your version.
cw: smut (men & minors DNI), sub bottom!shawn, dom top!reader, age gap, shawn is a retired voice actor, fingering
Shawn's the last person on Earth who'd ever have something like rejection anxiety. She's learned through countless hardships that listening to the positive voices gives her the strength to brave the tides of the competitive voice acting industry, and that—when in the midst of any career-ending scandal—it's easier to block her own name and any relevant tags from her algorithm than swear off of social media for a few weeks.
But with Shawn getting a little up there in age, she's found that it's kind of tough to filter out bad comments when all the comments she's been receiving lately are... Well, true. Just pure observation.
She can't deny that her delivery has been leaning toward the motherly archetype more in recent years. Plenty of her fans still find her voice appealing to listen to whenever she goes on a livestream, complimenting her constantly on how elegantly she's aged. Shawn loves her fans. She wouldn't be where she was now if it wasn't for their support, but that's not the problem. The problem is that a bunch of new gen fans are questioning what an older lady like her was doing voice acting.
... She's in her early fifties. Is it that odd? Careers in the entertainment industry had an irreversible expiration, promising absolutely zero opportunities once you're out. There's praying that you'll be remembered long enough to cameo or something, but voice acting has been Shawn's dream since she was a kid. Obviously, she's not just going to let it go all because of a few wrinkles.
So that's exactly why when a trustworthy friend of Shawn's had noticed her problems and recommended a shaman to visit, Shawn came in with a good chunk of her life savings tucked into her pocket. If the thing turned out to be a scam, well, so be it.
But as it turns out, things can work out for Shawn sometimes. Weirdly enough, the shaman was right about how spending time with younger women helped her... Borrow some of their youth?
More to the point, getting fucked senseless by her newly-hired, late twenty-something maid on a regular basis had her barreling back into her thirties in a month.
It's honestly ridiculous. Shawn isn't stupid. She'd gotten her degree and everything. It shouldn't make sense, but you've got a talent for using your fingers in a way other than cleaning and she often finds herself just not really... Caring?
No one really cares anyway. People just really want to hear her voice how it used to be.
You, on the other hand, just want to hear her voice. Period.
Especially now as you've got her bent over in front of a pristine full-length mirror, your middle and ring finger plunging into her tight entrance with the needy squelching of her precum slipping down her inner thighs. Her sweaty forehead rests against her reflection in the glass, eyes squeezed shut as she moans in that beautiful dulcet tone of hers. Gone are her wrinkles, the faint traces of white interrupting the coffee-like brown of her hair and the sprigs of magenta in between. Gone is the lower purr her older voice had carried, invoking the image of a woman self-assured and coyly intimidating.
"W... Wow, you're—" Shawn pants, peeking a beautiful amaranth eye open, distinct as a muted bloom— "you're not saying anything. H-Have you fallen in love with my voice, sweetheart?" She laughs breathlessly as her head thunks against the mirror. "Sounds better like this anyhow..."
"Who cares right now?" you retort, scandalized. "I, for one, really liked your voice even when you were old."
"O-Oh...?"
"Yeah, and 'm gonna make you come again. I have a recording of you moaning from a few weeks ago... I missed your mature voice. You look good when you come. Can you do it even when we're out next time?"
And of course, she's swayed by a younger woman's whims.
"H-Hah..." Shawn's fingers curl against the mirror, helpless as she feels you speed up. "Whatever's on your mind, sweetheart..."
any lewd(ish) thoughts on cinnabar please... how about her and shawn at the same time huh huh whatcha think
Oh DO I <3
cw: smut (men & minors DNI), top!cinnabar, bottom!reader, it's cinnabar's first time having sex and she's a little overly cautious but it's okay she gets the hang of it
After playing through her interrogation, one detail about Cinnabar's personality that stuck with me was her overprotectiveness. She'd love spooning you during sex, her arms securely wrapped around your waist while her firm frame engulfed yours. Even in your most intimate moments, Cinnabar still wants you close enough to protect.
Just imagine her nosing your temple as she sank inside, her lashes lowering as she listened to your shaky breaths. "Slower?" she murmurs.
You swallow thickly and furrow your brows. If anything, she wasn't going fast enough to start. You shake your head and angle up to meet her lips in a reassuring kiss, and you feel the exact moment the energy shifts as Cinnabar lets herself indulge in you a little more, the atmosphere thickening while her hand on your stomach slides up to caress your sternum like she was admiring the heart that laid beating beneath. You bite your lip, face warming at the affection. The pads of her fingertips and her palms are rough with calluses from how tightly she'd hold onto her shield, and the hard work she poured into making sure she was always strong enough to defend anyone she crosses paths with. Even if all her training couldn't have possibly been for something like this, it makes even her lightest touch feel amazing. Your spine tingles as she hesitantly squeezes your chest, her thumb flicking your nipple, and an acute jolt of pleasure rushing downwards as your lower half bucks back for more stimulation, completely hilting her inside before she could.
"Oh," Cinnabar whispers, stunned, and you can just imagine that sweet look of fluster on her face. As if she didn't expect you to do that. This whole experience has been packed with firsts for her, and she couldn't be more grateful that it was you walking her through this.
You stifle a laugh, covering your red face as the thrill rushes up your throat. "Yeah, oh," you parrot, glancing back to catch the way she sheepishly averts her gaze. God, how could such a handsome face look so adorable? "You can move, come on. Don't you think you've prepped me enough?"
Cinnabar, possibly to save her nerve, gently guides your head to turn away from her, pushing you to relax back onto the bed as if you were sleeping on your side. "Can't be too careful, you know..."
But even after saying that, Cinnabar gets the hint. She murmurs one last "tell me to stop anytime" before she guides her strap out, groaning into your hair as if she could feel the way you tighten around her, sucking her in as she drags along your sensitive walls in a gentle rhythm.
As her pace quickens later on, Cinnabar finds herself tilting your chin up for a passionate kiss. Her lips are utterly soft, somehow managing to look like a pale pink bloom when the only moisturizer she uses for them is cold water. You two lose yourselves in it, breathing each other in as the wet slaps from her hips smacking into your ass thickened the air with the intimate sounds of sex. Her strap's completely coated with you, your precum trickling out of you. Even quicker as the thick cockhead hits your sweet spot.
You jerk away from the kiss and curse in your throat, grasping her strong arms as you needily bucked back to meet her thrust-for-thrust. You hear Cinnabar exhale shakily. She shakes off your hands and grasps your hips, rolling you onto your stomach and fucking you like she's just been holding out on you this entire time. She hits that sensitive bump deep inside of you in quick succession, pushing inside even as your walls spasm in needy want.
Always eager to fulfill your needs, Cinnabar listens to your moans with rapt attention, even as sweat continues to trickle down the side of her forehead and her lip's been bitten raw in her concentration. Her breathing grows uneven. You can tell she's nearing her edge too, and through the haze of pleasure clouding her mind, you can only wish you could see her right now,
Cinnabar swallows the exhaustion slowly creeping through her limbs, her determination to get you to your long-awaited peak driving away any distractions. She murmurs your name like a mantra, like she needs you to believe this is happening too. She's going to make you come. Just trust that.
And she does.
Your hole clamps down around her as you bite down on a pillow, your hands white-knuckled as they fist the bedsheets. Cinnabar's tempo stutters for a moment, startled, before vigorously resuming.
By the end of it, she checks to see if you've been fully satisfied. Her short hair's all mussed, making her look... Endearingly unkempt. It makes you stifle a laugh, again, because your lungs can't expend any more air than it already has. It takes her a moment—she's really serious about making sure you're okay—but in the end, she laughs a little for you. Because... Wow.
Cinnabar never really thought about romance and all, she still can't help the relief and giddiness she feels at how amazing it was—how amazing you were.
After she gets you both cleaned up, rest assured <3 You can always rest easy knowing you've got one of the top bodyguards in your bed tonight... Even if she's fast asleep, her body protectively hugging yours.
Last post was just me shoving all my favorite smut tags into one drabble LMAO
It ended up way longer than I initially thought it'd be... Idk guys maybe I'm too Shawn-pilled... I wasn't paying too much to her characterization while writing though I'm ngl so I fear it's a little/somewhat/very OOC. Regardless though, I enjoyed writing it 🤍 Most self-indulgent post on this blog BWJAHSJAHAHAHAHA
Good to say that i really like the detail in Seonbae Disqualification AU. if you don't have any reference about bdsm i think you should read Lilith 1/2
-🤭
Thank you for enjoying my little ramblings <3 I really feel myself slowly getting attached to this AU hwehajehansh
Speaking of your latest rec, I've just finished reading the first Lilith ! Thoughts on the plot and whatnot aside, I really liked the art and the smut scenes hehe
It got me thinking of a little something 🤍
cw: smut (men & minors DNI), voice actor!shawn, voice actor!reader, pet play (reader calls shawn "kitty" and makes her wear cat ears and a collar), sub bottom!shawn, dom top!reader, handcuffs, gags, strap-ons, forced orgasm, shawn has a praise and a degradation kink, punishment, shawn cries a tad at the end, lots of aftercare, reader has no idea they're in love with shawn (but shawn does)
Shawn reminds me of those lazy but affectionate kitties that get away with causing trouble for their owners by acting cute and loafing in their laps. I imagine that the reader in the Seonbae Disqualification AU sees Shawn the same way.
But instead of causing trouble by pushing glass cups off the counter or scratching up the couch pillows, Shawn would shamelessly banter with you on TV variety shows without a care in the world for the cameras and mics pointed towards you two 🤍 She'd be especially audacious if your voice actor persona was demure and soft like a finch in flower petals, ensuring that if you were to match her fox-like candor with your own wit, it'd completely clash with your appearance and baffle your fanbase. In a bad way.
While you're smiling calmly and taking her sly remarks like one bitter pill after another, Shawn is having her own fun. Charming the hosts with her personality, hypnotizing the audience with her flagrant displays of skill, annoying you by sucking up all the spotlight like a leech—
All you can really do is tightly clasp your hands together under the shiny prop table, your eyes crinkling in an expression that looks sweet at Shawn's latest croon, pretending to be as enthralled by her performance as the others. You can pray for her agency's downfall later. For now, you whisk your mind back into calmness by planning the various ways you were going to punish her.
After the segment's done and everyone's packing up, you shoot her a quick text.
You [Sent at 8:02 PM]
hi kitty
make sure you're all ready for me when i get there, okay?
unless you want me to prepare you instead
be there in 10 ♡
It's a pity you two are signed to different agencies, so you had to ride different vehicles back home. Luckily though, your apartment is just a 20-minute drive away from hers.
When you get there, you can't help smiling as you toe your shoes off at the entrance. The excitement bubbles in your stomach like the energizing fizz of cold soda, sharpening your senses to the weak whimpers coming from Shawn's bedroom.
Your mind purrs in smug delight. To think she was so cocky earlier...
The discreet paper bag in your hand rustles with its contents as you make your way through Shawn's apartment. You navigate the short halls with the familiarity of someone who's lived with Shawn ever since she bought this place, stepping over a large cardboard box with a detailed illustration of a professional microphone printed on the front (with devastating envy, you recognize the brand she's bought as one that you also wanted—in the exact design you were going to get it in too!), and narrowly avoiding the malicious fold in the rug that would've tripped you with one wrong step.
Trying to push away your jealousy over that dumb microphone, you add that to your list of grievances Shawn will pay for. Your attention returns to the present, your hand resting on the doorknob as the vulgar squelching noises slip through the door.
The sight that greets you the second you open the door is nothing short of gratifying.
"Kitty." You tilt your head.
Shawn flinches at your presence, heavy eyes snapping to your imposing figure in the doorway. "A-Ah..."
You approach the bed, smiling as you slowly appraise the breathless woman laid out on her bed. From the sweat sticking wisps of her hair to her temples, to the way her hand busies itself between her legs tucked close to her heaving chest, Shawn...
You stifle the mean laugh tickling your chest.
Shawn looks exactly like a misbehaving kitty who cares about playing with herself more than atoning for her bad attitude earlier. She's fucking herself so indulgently, stuffing herself full with three fingers while pushing them in and out at a snail's pace. Just the way she likes it. Nothing at all like the way she knows you'd do it for things like this.
But more importantly—
"I thought I told you to prepare yourself before I arrived," you say softly, your tone betraying the cruelty you've promised ever since you two left the set.
Shawn licks her lips, relaxing just a touch as she gets comfortable under your critical eye.
"I did," she replies, her gaze burning with a desire she doesn't even bother to hide. A quiet hiss escapes between her teeth as she slips her fingers out, her soft hole drooling and twitching around the emptiness she's left. Her body shudders as she steals more air through raspy pants, leveling you a look that's not just ruined, but coy. "Would you believe me if I said I already came twice just thinking about what you'd do to me...?"
You hum, eyes narrowing as you upturn the paper bag and let the contents spill onto the bed.
Dismissing her intrigued hum, you pick up a buttery leather collar dyed Shawn's favorite magenta, dark and decadent like the dye had been processed and mulled from the unripe grapes in Dionysus' sacred vineyard. You caress its smooth surface before finally regarding Shawn with a look that's both imperious and sweet.
"I know how naughty my kitty's body is," you say, letting the tense atmosphere build as you leisurely loosen the collar. "That's why I ought to put her on a tighter leash so that she learns to keep that smart tongue in her mouth."
You clear your throat.
"Come here, kitty."
To your absolute delight, Shawn wordlessly goes to kneel near the edge of the bed. You don't know if it's because she secretly thinks she can maneuver you in her favor, but you wouldn't rebuke her if that was the case. You'll happily let her think that, and you'll be just as pleased to remind her of that silly little thought when she's nothing but an oversensitive puddle of arousal whimpering from your touch.
For now, you let her preen as you wrap the collar around her slender neck, your fingers caressing her soft, unblemished skin with grace bellying intent. The deep, pinkish-violet of the leather makes you muse—perhaps hickeys in the same color would complete this vulgar set you've prepared for her.
Later on, deep into the lumbering night hidden behind the heavy curtains, the singular ring light in front of the bed clutches your phone as it shines on you both with rapt attention, highlighting the sweat thinly covering your bodies and the way you two move in reckless tandem.
The headboard slams into the wall, rocking with your ruthless thrusts and Shawn's tugs at her cuffed wrists. You manage to laugh at her through your labored breaths, moving her sweaty hair off her face with precision. You wouldn't want to knock your kitty's ears out of place, after all.
It makes Shawn look so... Docile. Far be it the first word you'd ever think of when describing her, but you're starting to think that degrading her like this must've knocked something inside her psyche. Which, good. You didn't skimp on the quality for a reason. You made sure that the soft faux fur matched her hair down to the hex code, meaning that the lovely black-brown shade makes the ears really look like they're a part of her head. They're perfect to pet and rub between your fingers while you fuck her open, and doing so treats you to the sweet sight of Shawn's eyes helplessly rolling back. Her face is practically glowing red from the dizzying mix of arousal and embarrassment, covered in sweat. As if that wasn't enough to satisfy you, a pretty pink gag sits behind her teeth, letting drool and whines dribble down her chin without a hint of flirtation.
Combined with the collar's pristine golden bell and the stern leash clipped to it, you've made Shawn look the part of a pitiful pet.
"So darling," you coo, caressing her tummy like a cat's. It jumps and tenses beneath your touch, hypersensitive from your teasing, and you feel the way her greedy pussy tightens up around your strap in turn. "Mature? Controlled? Your fans are silly... They've gotten the wrong idea about you, and you've never bothered to correct them even once."
"Mhn—Mmh—M-Mmf..." Shawn huffs, eyes glazed over with submission. Her fingers twitch in the cuffs like she aches to touch you too.
"You're just my good kitty, aren't you?"
You hand slithers up the sweltering flush of her chest, giving her breast an indulgent squeeze as she pants through the gag, the air fogging with her hot breaths. Curious, you gently cup her throat. Shawn melts further like you've grabbed her by the scruff, eyes fluttering shut, barely lucid.
Her pulse hammers beneath your fingers. "Aren't you?" you repeat your question, your own voice ragged with demand.
"Mhm, mhm, mhm..." Shawn whimpers. You feel the way her agreement vibrates against your sweaty palm. A thrill shivers up your spine.
"Ha..." You laugh in disbelief. She's lost it. You've lost it. "Are you purring, sweet girl?"
She whimpers again.
"Oh, you are," you coo with delight. "No more dazzling TV show hosts, no more singing those beautiful songs for your fans, no more prattling like a noisy cat just to annoy me—!"
"You'll be a good pet for the camera." Your eyes gleam. "You'll do nothing but follow everything I say. Your life's a mess anyway, right? Taking videos of yourself squirting just from rubbing your clit raw—pft, you need someone like me to take care of you."
Your nails scratch down her sides before you grasp her hips. Invigorated by her obedience and the lewd noises her pussy can't stop making, you practically pound her precum out of her until it's splattering across the bedsheets in messy pools, leaving her legs shaking.
Shawn trembles and moans, dizzyingly red. Her collar's bell rings in a frenzy as she tosses her head left and right, trying to shake off the gag, but thankfully, you've fastened it tight enough to make sure that couldn't happen. What does almost come off though are her kitty ears, and you have to grip her chin to get her to stay still lest those come flinging off and smack the ring light off-kilter. You have no clue what she could possibly want to say now, but—
"Safeword, kitty?"
Shawn fights out of your grip and shakes her head even harder at that. Her hips buck and you click your tongue in annoyance, shoving her back down.
Ugh, these guessing games. Shawn has always been more intuitive about these things than you are. You save yourself the effort and undo the gag with one hand before tossing it aside.
"Are you okay—?"
"Please let me come," Shawn chokes out.
You raise a brow. "No."
"Baby—M-Miss, I—"
"Are you being stubborn right now?"
Shawn gnaws her lip.
"N... No," she hisses after a beat. Her kitty ears, loose from her flailing earlier, slip downwards as if they were drooping guiltily.
"Good."
If that's all she had to say, then you've wasted enough time chatting. You shove the gag back into her mouth, your palm pressed tightly over her lips to keep it secured because you can't be bothered to fumble with its clasps right now.
You pick up the pace until the bed vigorously rocks with the ruthlessness of your thrusts again, determined as hell to make her disobey your orders just for the fun of getting to punish her again. Shawn has your plan figured out in seconds, but her eyes have already squeezed shut in acceptance at the unfairness. You teasingly smooth over the tense crease between her brows.
"Good girl," you whisper, "my kitty has self-control after all."
You reach between your sweaty bodies to find the blossomed heat of her pussy, drifting over the coarse thatch of hair until you reach her wet folds. She's kissing the thick length of the strap continuously prying her open, all red and sensitive from your pelvis smacking into hers without gentleness. It's as if you couldn't muster a single speck of respect for her, just using her to wet your cock. Her thighs strain from the position you've instructed her to hold for the past hour. A part of Shawn's pride was her voice, adored for her range and skill, and here you are—gagging her like you can't wait for her to shut up on her own.
The phone captures everything. Down to the drop of sweat trailing down the side of Shawn's neck to the way she bites back a scream as she helplessly arches her back, tight as a drawn bow.
Your eyes widen as you graze her tummy. Every part of her is so, so, so tense.
"Trying not to come, hm?"
Shawn whimpers and frantically nods.
You feel yourself throb. Glancing down, you realize you've stopped thrusting ever since you've felt a little resistance. Shawn's walls desperately clutch your dick like she's begging you not to move, to give her a second, to let her come down from the high she's precariously close to crashing over. Her folds though, are still soft to the touch. When you go to rub them, you feel her pussy falter as it lets you sink in a little deeper.
"Oh..." you murmur. You bite your lip.
She tightens up again. It's fine, because you've just discovered something unbearably amusing.
You push the hood of her clit up and use your other hand to vigorously circle her swollen bud, reveling in the sob that tears out of Shawn's throat as her body finally gives in and lets you ruin her. Her legs seize around you, her knees knocking against your waist in feverish jolts as she tries to close them and save herself from punishment. But the dripping clutch of her pussy is practically trying to swallow you deeper, goading you to grind against that sweet spot inside her.
Tears prickle the corners of Shawn's eyes as they roll back, her collar's bell jingling wildly as she shakes. She lets go of the cuffs' chains and grasps the headboard with a white-knuckled grip.
"Don't come." You smile cheekily. "Otherwise you'll be showing the camera—your fans—that you're nothing but a needy kitty under all your posturing."
You intentionally nail her sweet spot on the next thrust. She tightens. Whines. Tries to kick you off, to squeeze your cock out before the pleasure chokes her.
You bat her foot away. You yank her closer, shoving deeper inside and keeping her there as the fat tip of your strap grinds grinds grinds—
Ecstasy snaps over Shawn with a real sob. Her mind finally lets go of all her lingering inhibitions as her orgasm rips through her like a hailstorm. The unfastened gag falls from her mouth and lands somewhere at her side as she blubbers. She doesn't seem to care. You don't. You watch, heart pounding, fingers trembling on her waist as you absentmindedly thumb the spot beneath her ribcage, where her pulse jumps and spasms further up like she's dying but also heaving with new life—you haven't seen her come so hard before. She looks so out of it. When you caress her cheek, her eyes barely flicker in recognition. If at all.
Shawn. Shawn. This is still her, right?
Blood cracks over your lip, pain stinging yet distant. You only stop gnawing at it, mesmerized by the sight beneath you.
Shawn pants, eyes hazy, lashes heavy with tears. Her mesmerizing, handsome, award-winning, envy-garnering voice has been reduced to hoarse whimpers like cinders from a water-doused flame. You doubt she even remembers her own name right now. Her legs have fallen limp at your sides, trembling and still trying to clench together to ease through the aftershocks.
You gently squeeze her thighs, coaxing her down with your touch. "Good girl," you murmur gently, ignoring the way your heart throbs as you undo the cuffs and massage the indents left on her wrists. "You did well."
Shawn hiccups, throwing an arm over her eyes. She's visibly trying to control her breathing, trying to wrangle her sudden burst of emotion under control. Her next breath convulses and it shudders through her like it hurts. Still, she nods as if to reassure you. Of what, you don't know.
You soothe her on autopilot. The accessories are taken off. Basin and washcloth, cool water washing away the tackiness of her sweat. A loose shirt from her closet, a pair of boxers and sweatpants from her drawers; you pull them over her body and help her sit on a chair with a bottle of water and some crackers while you quickly change the sheets. You turn the AC down until the room is cold enough for more than one layer of blankets.
You sigh as you help Shawn settle into bed, brushing her short hair back with your fingers.
"Feeling good?" you ask.
Shawn looks at you. You can't... Describe—You can't describe the emotion flickering in her eyes besides the obvious exhaustion. It just looks soft. Actually, you can't tell if there's even anything besides the exhaustion. Is that it? She's telling you that you were too rough?
You don't like Shawn, but your conscience gnaws at you anyway. "I'm sorry—"
You hear Shawn huff in amusement before she yanks you down with her, pulling you into her chest.
"Don't worry about it," she whispers. The raspiness in her tone makes your heartbeat quicken.
"But you—"
"I liked it," she clarifies.
"... That's good then."
If there was one thing you know about Shawn, it's that her words aren't to be trusted. It doesn't have to be long and flowery sentences. It just has to sound wild and impossible. Flattery slips through her teeth all too easily, and you're not one of her besotted fans. You just saw her cry. Shawn had dislocated her shoulder before and even then she didn't cry.
You furrow your brows and adjust your positions, cradling her head to your chest now. You let her listen to your heart. Hope it'll calm her down enough to sleep.
"Seriously, I think with the gag—"
A warm palm cups your cheek, slender fingers brushing your temple as if trying to catch your racing thoughts.
"Don't overthink it, babe." Shawn kisses your neck. Goosebumps erupt over your arms. "I've got lots to say, but that's for the morning. I'm... Really tired." She chuckles. "You should watch your sleeping habits. If you get sick, who'll take care of kitty then?"
Your cheeks burn. This woman. "Ugh, fine," you begrudgingly agree. You'll hold her to that. You'll talk in the morning if it's the last thing you'll do.
As you drift deeper and deeper into sleep, you miss the soft peck Shawn drops onto your shoulder and the knowing glance she casts the phone on the switched-off ring light, still recording, before she follows you into a well-deserved rest.
cw: ramblings about shawn's favorite color, reader leaving lipstick marks on shawn's face, shawn is hopelessly smitten w you
This is just a little headcanon of mine but I really like the idea of Shawn being a masc whose favorite color is pink. Like, that magenta/fuchsia/amaranth color of her accessories goes so well with the dark browns, blacks, and greys of her design. The fact that it's even the same-ish shade as the faint highlights in her hair and her eyes makes me think that either—one, Shawn likes how flattering the pink looks on her, or two—
Her ex-friend/ex-situationship adored the color on her the most, and used to make it a point to tell Shawn how attractive she looks when she's decorated in the lovely shade. Pink, the color of gentle love.
Could this woman perhaps have been the first person to tell Shawn that she looked best when dressed in the warmth found in an amateur lover's blush, or the first stroke of pink found closest to the heavens on a sunset?
Whahrhahsh I like to think that even Shawn finds it sort of odd that she can't shake her attachment for that color. It's not even a soft pink, which is also appealing in her eyes. Its deep hues just make her think of a love that is not only intense, but also seeks to ensnare fools who still believe it will stay as long as it's held tightly.
It'd be difficult to forget the memories tied to it, especially when she sees it on herself.
On the other hand, it's really really cute HEUAHEUHDGAHHHHH just the thought of Shawn going online shopping and thoughtlessly selecting an accessory or piece of clothing in magenta if it's not available in darker colors makes me AHSNQHNDHE she doesn't CARE that it's not a masculine color, it's a color and she likes it.
Even more, I imagine Shawn would love it if you wore lipstick in that exact shade and left kiss marks all over her face. She'd feel so adored, her heart so full and her cheeks aching from smiling, surprising herself by how firmly she's got her arms locked around you and how she can't even fathom the thought of letting you go now. So clingy, it's unlike her. But each soft smack of affection you confidently stamp in amaranth over her shoulders sends jolts of invigorating warmth through her, and she finds it harder and harder to keep her bemusement over your antics to herself.
She'd cheekily try to intercept your lips each time you duck down to smooch her cheek, eager to reciprocate this love you're so shamefully—sincerely—showing her. She wants to hear your precious laughter as it is now, but louder and full of today's new good memories. She hopes it'll linger in her mind and comfort her even in your absence, threading through her fingers without qualms even in listless searches for your unforgettable smile, tangible like your kisses that still bleed amaranth. Your shade of gentle love.
She's so cute shhewhjegejsh LOOK AT HER HAIR ???? AND THE LITTLE POM ON HER TAIL LOOKS LIKE A FLOWER BUD. I feel so maternal... Ughfhf she's such a sweetie...
I got the screenshot from PTN's Twitter post ! Specifically Xiaofeng's silly animated music video <3
On the Seonbae Disqualification AU, I've been trying to think of cohesive plot beats to hit before Shawn and the reader finally get together but I'm just. Thinking of so much smut it's actually making me want to write that first.
But here's some teensy-weensy worldbuilding first ❤️
cw: no smut but many references to shawn's sex life (men & minors DNI), a semi-coherent analysis (???) of shawn's character and motivations, heavily implied sub!shawn, brief mentions of one night stands, brief mentions of bdsm practices
I'm saying it now: Shawn will still be very Shawn in this AU. I'm not touching her flirtiness and corny one-liners okay those are CORE aspects of her personality.
The only thing I'd be changing is her approach towards love. Becoming a voice actor and being one as beloved as her would definitely shift her views on love. Given that she never had her first love betray her (because in this AU that woman never existed LMAO), Shawn's yearning for love would instead revolve around trying to attain a love she wants to experience, rather than to find the love she had lost in her original backstory. Therefore, Shawn would've had a few girlfriends here and there during the early stages of her voice actor career, but those relationships eventually dried up because her partners would end things with her for reasons outside their control. I think Shawn would inevitably start seeing love as something fleeting and insignificant in the grand scheme of life, but also still worth cherishing and finding (which I mean is kinda how she already is in the game) !!
Shawn would definitely have trouble maintaining relationships herself though, especially when she starts advancing in her career. At some point, she'd slowly begun turning to one night stands as her source of affection. Bars were her usual haunts. Thankfully, people tended to be too tipsy to recognize her and it made getting in bed with any random yet gorgeous woman an easy one. No scandals, no rumors, no stolen shots—the perfect amount of distance between two bodies moving in tandem with the alluring and heart-thudding bass reaching the bar's bathrooms.
And yet, when she would be left shuddering over the sinks, thighs sticky and mind cloudy, something just felt missing. Something had always felt missing.
I think Shawn would move on from the typical sorts of partners she'd find in a bar's dark, sweaty, and boozy walls after a few months. It was too impersonal—which was the point, but anyway—and she would prefer not having to go home alone while basking in the internal dread that comes with the post nut clarity.
So, yeah, Shawn discovers BDSM to put it shortly. It just MAKES SENSE OKAY walk with me here. I think Shawn would be curious about the concept. I think she'd find it appealing. It'd offer her lots of unique sexual experiences in a controlled environment (like consent is heavily emphasized, and all scenes are usually discussed beforehand), and...
Well, you know. The aftercare is nothing to sniff at. It might just be the last rush of endorphins leaving her body making her think this way, but the fluorescent restlessness echoing from the hollows of her chest to the hungering chasm of her stomach never fails to calm down under the heavy blanket of affection caressing her bare, bitten shoulders, and the reassurances poured so warm and thick into her ears that she can't think of anything else, just as comforting as the water guided past her lips to cool her parched throat.
Shawn had a pretty nice thing going on with her dom before she, regretfully, began seeing her less on account of her career soaring through the roof. It was getting difficult to plan meet-ups with their differing schedules. At that point, Shawn was reaching the pinnacle of her career and couldn't afford her PR to drop, so things had to end.
A month after that, that's when the reader discovers Shawn's self-made porn which marks the official start of the story !
AJSJAHAJAJAHSJ I don't know if all these details will be making it into the final fic, but I want to intersperse them throughout the story without making it just one big block of exposition. I think this plot would be an interesting way to understand Shawn's character more—even if it's in between loooooots of filthy sex.
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