Too Close (i Might Just Burn You Whole) || C.hv

too close (i might just burn you whole) || c.hv

summary: you’ve got your crush on your friend vernon under control… that is until he shows up for a costume party dressed like your favorite superhero

pairing: vernon x fem reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ ; mdni) additional warnings under the cut

word count: 8.6k

a/n: a late birthday present for @fuckvernon <3

additional warnings: fingering, fat cock!vernon, unintentional cockwarming, praise, dacyrphilia, kink discovery, m + f orgasms, implied round two so no aftercare (but it does happen off the page)

“Are you going to tell her tonight?”

Vernon cocks his head to the side and takes a sip of his beer, feigning disinterest. “Who?”

“You’re looking right at her.”

“What am I going to tell her?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Vernon finally yanks his gaze away from you to glare at Joshua, who had taken the barstool beside him. 

“Haven’t we been over this?”

“We have, and we’ll keep going over it until you come to your senses.”

“There are no senses to come to,” Vernon argues. “I don’t want-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit about not ruining your friendship with her.”

“I don’t!”

“You really think she’s the kind of person that’ll stop being friends with someone just because she doesn’t return their feelings?”

“Well, no,” Vernon admits. “But it will definitely change our dynamic.”

Joshua rolls his eyes. “You’re just using that as an excuse to be a coward.”

Vernon clenches his jaw and brings the bottle to his lips again. “I don’t feel like talking about this right now.”

“I can tell,” Joshua mutters.

Chan joins them at the bar a moment later and orders a lemon drop. 

“What’d he say?” he asks Joshua. 

“That he’s a pussy,” Shua answers. 

“Did you tell everyone about this?” Vernon cries, cringing at the whine he hears in his voice. 

“No one had to tell me,” Chan corrects him. “You’re super obvious about it.”

“Who else knows?”

“Who doesn’t?” Joshua and Chan say in unison. 

Vernon groans and drops his head to the bartop. 

“Don’t worry, no one’s going to say anything to her.”

“They might, if you don’t man up and tell her yourself,” Joshua amends.

“He’s kidding.”

“I’m not.”

Chan chuckles nervously and gives Vernon a reassuring pat on the back. 

“If you don’t tell her tonight you should at least tell her at Soonyoung’s party.”

“I’m not telling her, period! I’m good with being friends, you guys.”

They side-eye each other. 

“So you’re good with her dating other people?”

Vernon lifts his head again. “What?”

“I mean if you’re not going to ask her out, someone else is going to,” Joshua points out, holding his hands up in surrender when Vernon glares at him. “I’m not saying that to be an asshole! I’m saying it because...” he trails off, looking at Chan who unsubtly signals Joshua to stop talking. 

“What? What is it?”

“Well, because we heard Kun is going to ask her out at Soonyoung’s party on Friday.”

“Qian Kun?”

Chan nods hesitantly. “But it’s not like it’s a sure thing! It’s just a rumor, after all.”

“It’s a sure thing,” Joshua counters. “I overheard him talking to Minghao about it.”

“We don’t know if she’ll say yes, though,” Chan offers, desperately trying to keep his friend from spiraling. 

“That’s true,” Joshua agrees. Finally. “He’s a good-looking guy, though.”

“Joshua!”

“What? It’s the truth!”

 “Can I have a word with you over here?”

They shuffle over to the side, leaving Vernon to sulk as they bicker. He can vaguely hear Joshua muttering but he tunes out the words, not needing to hear any more about your potential prospects and his lack thereof. 

The thing is, Vernon could have plenty of said potential prospects if he put himself out there. But unfortunately, he only has eyes for you. And he’s a coward. 

He hadn’t always had feelings for you, that he was aware of. You were Seungkwan’s friend first. He introduced you to the group later and you’d fit right in. Seungkwan wasn’t surprised but he was a bit protective over you, constantly reminding everyone that you were his first. That didn’t bother Vernon- until it did. 

 He knew Seungkwan was mostly joking but after a while, he assumed you’d been a part of the group for long enough that you were everyone’s friend. The hierarchy of who knew you best or longest shouldn’t matter. Unless Vernon was at the top of it. 

These thoughts never even occurred to Vernon until he started hanging out with you one-on-one. You were always fun to have around but he hadn’t realized just how much he liked spending time with you. You were funny, you liked a lot of the same things he liked, you were pretty— that wasn’t a thought you should be having about a friend. God damn it. God damn it.

That’s when he knew he was fucked. He tried to deny it to himself. He didn’t have feelings for you. That would be ridiculous. He was just confused.

He assumed it would pass. He tried to avoid you, only seeing you at group events. That didn’t last long. 

You managed to corner him at a brunch thing and confronted him about why he had been ignoring you. He made up some excuse about how he’s been busy lately, lying straight to your face as he told you he hadn’t been ignoring you. 

Vernon had learned to live with his feelings, peksy as they were. He just suppressed them. The healthy thing to do. 

But now he was forced to make a choice. He had to either tell you how he felt and potentially ruin your friendship, or let someone else beat him to it. 

-

“We can get ready together at my place around four and then pregame a little bit,” you suggest, your voice sounding muffled through the speaker. 

Vernon’s got his phone balanced between his ear and his shoulder which makes it even harder to hear you. He’s trying to straighten up his and Seokmin’s apartment before some of the guys come over for DND but it isn’t going very well. He can’t figure out where Seokmin put the fucking Swiffer Wet Jet. 

“Who else is going to be there?” he asks. 

“Oh, just the two of us.”

He freezes. “What? Why?”

“Everyone else is pregaming at Mingyu’s,” you explain, and suddenly it all makes sense. “We’ll be so late if we try to get ready there. There’ll be too much going on.”

“You’re right,” Vernon agrees. “That’s a good idea.”

“Are you sure? You can go with them if you want.”

“No!” he exclaims, maybe a little too quickly. “No, um, I’d rather do what you said.”

“Okay!” 

He hates that he can hear the smile in your voice, hates that he can picture the exact scrunch of your nose and crinkle of your eyes, hates that he knows just how cute you look right now. 

“I know I said four, but you can come over whenever,” you continue. “And we can listen to our music while we get ready. No one else has good taste like we do.”

“Mingyu’s probably going to play trap remixes of Disney songs the whole night,” Vernon sighs.

“Either that or Justin Bieber’s entire discography,” you laugh. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely making the right choice.”

-

Friday rolls around way too fast. Vernon spent the whole week panicking over what to say to you and he still hasn’t decided. He doesn’t even know if he’ll work up the courage to tell you at all, even if Kun is going to ask you out. Sure, he’ll beat himself up forever if that happens, but at least he’d save himself the embarrassment of rejection. 

He shows up to your apartment in his street clothes, having packed his outfit for tonight in his backpack. 

You answer the door with your makeup half-done, ushering him in before any of your neighbors could see you in your pajamas. 

The door to your bedroom is open, faint music spilling out into the foyer. 

“My roommate’s out,” you explain as he follows you inside. “She’s flying home to visit her parents so we have the place to ourselves.”

For some reason, Vernon’s heart skips a beat when you say that. You don’t mean it like that but his mind goes there automatically and he has to clear his throat awkwardly to shake the thought. 

You lead him to your room and tell him he can sit on the bed while you finish your makeup, and he does so very gingerly. It’s not like he’s never been in your room or sat on your bed before so there’s no reason for him to be acting so weird (aside from the big fat crush he’s had on you for months). He hopes you don’t notice his strange behavior. Or if you do, he hopes you chalk it up to him just being Vernon. 

“I was listening to our combined playlist but you can change it to whatever you want,” you offer, throwing him your phone. 

It lands next to him on the mattress. 

“No, this is good,” he says but picks up your phone anyway. “Can I scroll through your Twitter, though?”

“Go ahead.”

He makes a noise of contentment and settles more comfortably on your bed. He grabs your stuffed Appa and holds it close to his chest as he scrolls down your timeline, humming along to the song that’s playing on your PC.

You’re silent as you apply the rest of your makeup. Vernon doesn’t know the first thing about makeup but he knows that you’re good at it. You always look so pretty. One time you had made your eyeliner look like the wings of a monarch butterfly. He remembers being so transfixed by your eyes that you had to keep asking why he was staring. 

Today, your eyeliner looks like little clouds to go with your angel outfit. You’d done it in white with a touch of glitter to make them shimmer. 

“I can’t believe Soonyoung picked a costume party,” you grumble. 

“I can. How much do you want to bet he’s going to be Tony the Tiger again?”

“You never know, maybe he’ll be Raja from Aladdin. Or that tiger from The Jungle Book? I don’t remember that one’s name, though.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Vernon muses, not looking up from your phone. 

“I guess we will.”

He’s reading the replies to a tweet about one of your favorite animes when you get a text. He’d ignored all of the other notifications you’d received while he was in control of your phone thus far but it’s impossible to ignore this one. 

Qian Kun: can’t wait to see u tn!

Vernon nearly chokes, knuckles turning white as he grips the phone tighter. 

So Joshua hadn’t been fucking with him. He hadn’t just used Kun as an excuse to kick Vernon’s ass into gear. He was actually serious and was trying to help him. Go figure. 

Vernon stands from your bed abruptly, drawing your attention to him. 

“You got a text,” is all he can mutter as he thrusts your phone out to you. You give him a weird look as you take it but before you can say anything about it he’s grabbing his backpack and telling you that he’s going to go change. 

“O-okay.” 

He makes his way to your bathroom and shuts the door behind him, slumping against it as he tells himsef to get it together. He splashes some cold water on his face and runs a still-wet hand through his hair in an attempt to style it. The water does little to cool him down but he starts taking off his clothes anyway. If he’s gone for too long you’ll begin to wonder if something’s wrong but he’s still sweating and his costume is made entirely out of spandex. 

He manages to wrestle the material onto his body and get the zipper up. He takes another look at himself in the mirror and grimaces. It didn’t look bad on him, but it was defintely tight and left little to the imagination.

And now he had to go back out and face you like this. Tonight was already going so well. 

You’re not in your room when he comes out of the bathroom. He searches the hallway briefly before finding you in the kitchen. You’re bent over with your head in the fridge, looking for... something, but all Vernon can focus on is the way your legs look in the white tights you’re wearing. He averts his eyes as soon as he catches himself staring at your calves, cheeks burning with what can only be a mixture of shame and embarrassment.  

“Do you need help?” he asks, startling you.  

You jolt up, nearly bumping your head on the freezer door. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly. 

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Can’t help it, it’s part of my spidey powers.”

Your eyes light up in recognition as soon as he says that. He tries not to feel too self-conscious as your eyes take in his costume, your gaze traveling down his body and then back up to his face. 

“Your costume!”

“Do you like it?” 

“I love it!” you exclaim, taking him by the shoulders. “I can’t believe you kept this a secret from me!” You know how much I love Peter Parker!”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Vernon mumbles, trying to hide a smile. 

“God, you look incredible! Do you have the mask?”

“I do, should I wear it?”

“Keep it off,” you decide. “Your face is too pretty to be hidden.”

“Wh-what?” 

“You heard me,” you double down, smirking. 

You’re teasing him, but Vernon can’t tell if it’s in a flirty way or a joking way. He hopes it’s the first way but he’s also too scared to confront what that would mean if it was. 

“Maybe you can put it on for the group picture or something, but you should leave it off for the party, that way people can find you.”

“Good idea,” Vernon agrees. “So, what were you looking for?”

You seem to remember you’re still standing in the middle of your kitchen with your refrigerator open at that very moment.

“Oh, right. I was looking for stuff for us to drink before we go over to Soonyoung’s but I couldn’t find what I wanted. I bought strawberry soju for us tonight but my friend’s boyfriend drank it all so we only have regular.” 

Vernon knits his eyesbrows together in confusion. “Joshua drank all your soju?”

“No, different friend. You don’t know her. I would’ve just said Joshua drank all my soju’ if it was him.”

“Yeah, that makes more sense.”

“I thought I had lemonade we could use as a mixer but I can’t find it.”

“We can just do shots,” Vernon suggests, laughing when you make a face. “Fine, fine, here let me help.”

You trade places with him and watch as he looks through the same shelves you had just been looking through. He is also unable to find the lemonade.

“You have gingerale,” he points out.

“Do you think that would be good?”

“Only one way to find out.”

-

It was, in fact, not good. But you powered through it together, neither of you willing to show up to Soonyoung’s sober. 

“I’ll call an Uber,” you shout from you room where you had gone to grab your purse. “By the way, do you want me to do any makeup on you real quick? I think some dark circles under your eyes or some black eyeliner would look really good.”

“Sure,” Vernon agrees before really thinking about it. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

That’s how you end up straddling him on your bed, your face mere inches from his as you apply... eyeliner? Eyeshadow? Some sort of makeup to his eyes. 

Vernon holds his breath, putting every ounce of concentration he has into not getting hard. You’re sitting right on top of him and as previously established, the Spider-Man suit is very, very thin. 

Your costume doesn’t offer a lot of coverage either, something Vernon tries not to think about while you’ve got your thighs on either side of his waist. You’re warm, so warm. He can feel the heat of your skin through your tights, can feel the seam of your leotard underneath your tutu, and if he shifts even just a little bit he’d be able to feel-

“There, done!” you announce and climb off of him. 

Vernon breathes a sigh of relief and takes a moment to recover before sitting back up. He’s a little stiff, both in body and in spirit, but he hopes you didn’t notice. 

“Hey, the Uber’s here, but take a look at yourself first to make sure you like it.”

You hand him a compact mirror and wait patiently as Vernon checks out your handiwork. You didn’t do much but it had made a big difference. He looks exhausted. His eyes appear sunken, the dark circles you’d drawn underneath somehow making them look sharper. 

“Oh my god, I look just like him,” he whispers. 

“Right? I thought that would tie it all together! Very Peter Parker-esque.”

“You’re incredible, thank you.”

You laugh and stare down at the floor, seeming shy all of a sudden. “It was easy. Anyone could have done it.”

Then, your phone vibrates on your desk. You grab it immediately like you’re thankful for the interruption. Vernon purses his lips but tries not to come off as deflated. 

“Shit, we shouldn’t keep him waiting,” you say. 

“You’re right. Let’s go.”

You sling the strap of your purse over your shoulder and make for the front door but Vernon calls out after you before you can reach it. 

“Wait! Don’t forget your halo, angel.”

He grabs the headband off of your dresser and brings it to you, smiling to himself when you bend down automatically so that he can put it on for you. 

“Okay, now we’re ready,” he amends. 

-

The drive to Soonyoung and Jihoon’s apartment doesn’t usually take long but your Uber got lost on the way so you were a few minutes late. Thankfully, you weren’t the last to arrive. That honor went to Boo Seungkwan and Yoon Jeonghan who trailed in together a whole thirty minutes after you and Vernon, much to Soonyoung’s displeasure. 

He greets you at the door with Jihoon in tow, clearly already drunk. 

“You made it!” he screeches, throwing his arms around the two of you. 

“Of course we made it, idiot,” you tease, pushing his shoulder playfully. 

Vernon pretends not to notice and he also pretends it doesn’t bother him.

“Who are you supposed to be, Soonie?” you ask.

“Tony the Tiger,” he says, sounding a little offended that you didn’t guess right away. 

“Again?”

“You can’t go wrong with a classic,” Soonyoung mutters. “Right, Jihoon?”

“Right,” his best friend parrots obediently, rolling his eyes behind his back. 

“Wait, what are you supposed to be?” Vernon asks, directing the question at Jihoon this time. 

“I’m the box of Frosted Flakes,” he grumbles, so low Vernon almost doesn’t catch it. 

“Wow, you guys are so creative,” you gush. “Nonnie and I both took the easy way out.”

The affectionate nickname catches Vernon off guard and he can’t help but crack a smile, ignoring the knowing glance from Jihoon. 

“Well you guys look great,” Soonyoung assures you. “Especially you, Vernon! Since when is Peter Parker so sexy?”

“Since always,” Vernon scoffs. “Have you seen the movies?”

Soonyoung opens his mouth to respond but Jihoon nudges him in the side before he can. Headlights flash in the windows, distracting all four of you from what you’re talking about. 

“Oh, I think some more people just pulled up. I should be a good host and say hello to them too. Help yourselves to drinks or whatever. You know where everything is.”

Vernon nods and claps Soonyoung on the back as he passes him. “Thanks, Hosh, we’ll catch you later.”

You follow Vernon into the kitchen, saying hi to the people you know on the way. It was quieter in the kitchen, even though Mingyu and Chan were arguing over something undoubtedly unimportant by the sink. 

They stop only briefly to acknowledge you both before jumping right back into it. 

“What do you want to drink?” Vernon asks you.

“What do they have?”

“All the usual stuff, and it looks like Joshua brought some nice whiskey.” 

“Of course he did,” you chuckle. “Um, I’ll just have whatever you’re having. I usually like what you like.”

It’s true, you have so much in common, Vernon thinks to himself happily.

“Why are you smiling like that?” 

Vernon freezes. “Huh?”

“You’re like grinning to yourself about something. What is it? Are you laughing at me?”

“No, no, I’m not laughing at you. I just… like that you trust me to make something that will taste good.”

“I mean it’s not like you have to cook it,” you joke. “If that were the case I might feel differently.”

“Very funny.”

“I know, thank you.”

You watch Vernon pour a shot of vodka into each cup, balancing your chin in your hands, elbows resting on the countertop. He finds a half-empty bottle of lemonade in the fridge and mixes it with the vodka, topping the drinks off with some ice from a cooler on the ground. 

“Aren’t you supposed to add the ice first?” you ask. 

“Oh, so you are going to judge my bartending skills? I thought that was reserved for my cooking.”

“I am first and foremost a hater. You should know that by now. No one is safe, not even you.”

Not even him... did that mean he was getting special treatment otherwise? Was it because you saw him as more than a friend? Or was it that you didn’t feel close enough to him to roast him unabashedly? 

You had procured a butter knife from one of the drawers while Vernon was lost in thought and were now using it to mix the drinks he’s made. 

You throw the knife in the sink, the clattering disrupting Chan and Mingyu’s arguing once again. 

“Cheers,” you say, offering him one of the cups. 

He takes it and clinks it against yours.

“Cheers.”

-

“If Soonyoung plays one more Justin Bieber song I’m going to lose it,” you mutter, making Vernon chuckle into his vodka lemonade. 

“I’ll see if I can talk Jihoon into hijacking the playlist.”

“No, don’t do that, you know he’ll only play Bruno Mars!”

But Vernon’s already walking away to find him, saying something about ‘the lesser of two evils’.

You watch him go, unable to stop yourself from glancing at his ass and noting how good it looks in the Spider-man suit. When he’d appeared in your kitchen wearing it you thought you might melt through the floor.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to rip it off of him or jump him while he was still wearing it. You did neither of those things, of course, but it was all you’d been able to think about all night. 

Peter Parker was your favorite comic book character. You couldn’t believe that was the costume he chose. 

You were delusional to think you were getting over your crush on him in the first place but all of the supposed progress you had made on that went out the window as soon as he had called you angel earlier. 

The other guys seemed to think your attraction was mutual but Vernon was so goddamn hard to read that it was really anyone’s guess. 

Was he awkward around everyone, or was it just you? Sometimes you think there’s something there, on those rare nights you spend alone together, watching movies at your apartment or playing a card game you only kind of know the rules to. On nights like those, when you’re more touchy with each other than usual, when his gaze lingers on your lips a little too long, it’s easy to think that maybe everyone is right. Maybe the feelings are mutual. 

But then he’ll start acting weird, like he was tonight, and you don’t know how to take it. Are your feelings for him that obvious that he can see right through them? Do your attempts at flirting make him uncomfortable? Sometimes he flirts back though which is why it’s all so confusing.

“I need another drink,” you say to no one in particular before turning around and trekking back to the kitchen.

-

You’re gone when Vernon returns to where he’d left you. It had taken him a while to track down Woozi and plead his case, longer than he expected, but he didn’t think it was that long. 

Jihoon was more than happy to change the music but he told Vernon that he’d have to go distract Soonyoung in order to do so. It was like a series of side quests he had to complete to move to the next level and by the time he was finished you had disappeared. 

It’s not a big place but there are a lot of people in attendance which makes it  so he has to push through the crowds in his search for you. There are people inside and on the deck and in the yard so he has his work cut out for him. 

“Want another drink?” It’s Joshua with two cups in his hand. Vernon takes a glance at his empty solo cup and shrugs, trading for the full one. 

“Thanks. What is it?”

“Beer.”

“Cool.”

“Where’s your date?” Joshua asks, looking around. 

“She’s not my date, and I don’t know,” he admits. “I left her right there and she’s gone.”

“Dude, you left her alone in the middle of a party and expected her to just sit there and wait for you?”

“I wasn’t gone for that long!”

“Did you tell her you were coming back?” Vernon purses his lips. “How long were you gone for?” 

“Just a few minutes...” he mumbles. 

Joshua sighs. Vernon knows he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose if he could but his hands are full. 

“Go find her.”

“That’s what I was doing before you walked up to me!”

“Don’t waste time by arguing with me, just go.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Vernon nods sullenly before brushing past his friend into the next room. 

He finds you in the dining room talking to someone else. He relaxes until he realizes that ‘someone else’ is Kun. Qian Kun. Can’t wait to see u tn! Kun. You’re leaning against the wall, laughing at something he’s saying and Vernon’s blood runs cold. 

Before he can fully process what’s happening in front of him, he’s downing the rest of his beer and approaching you both. 

“Y/n, I was just looking for you,” he exclaims and throws an arm around your shoulders. The gesture is a bit possessive for his taste, but knowing what he knows about what the guy’s going to tell you tonight, he can’t help it. 

Kun gives Vernon a look, sizing him up as he takes a sip from his own drink. Vernon nearly scoffs. 

“Sorry, I went looking for you but I didn’t know where you’d gone off to,” you explain apologetically. 

“Jihoon made me keep Soonyoung busy so that he could change the music.” He points at the ceiling as if to prove his point, even though the music was coming from speakers on the walls. You all stop to listen to the Silk Sonic song filtering in from the other room. Vernon turns to you. “Anyway, I don’t mean to interrupt, but could I talk to you for a second?”

Kun can’t even hide the look of annoyance on his face. “We were kind of in the middle of something-”

“Yeah, sure- oh...”  you trail off awkwardly. You had spoken at the same time, unintentionally contradicting each other. Vernon has to fight to suppress his smile. “I’ll be right back, Kun,” you say, taking Vernon by the hand to drag him away. “This shouldn’t take long.”

She won’t be back, Vernon thinks to himself as he follows you through the house. Unless you reject him, then you probably will be. 

He almost runs into you when you stop in front of Soonyoung’s bedroom door. “Is here good or do we need somewhere more private?”

“Um, it’s still kind of loud out here, do you think we could go in there?”

“Yeah, I’m sure Soonyoung won’t mind.”

The room is unlocked, because of course it is, and you let yourselves inside. Vernon’s surprised to see Soonyoung’s bed is made, but he figures that he must have straightened up because company was coming over. 

You take a seat on the floor in front of the bed instead of on it and Vernon joins you, groaning as he struggles to cross his legs. 

“So, what’d you need to tell me?” you ask. 

He blinks and swallows hard. He wasn’t prepared for this at all. He hadn’t even thought about what to say or how to say it... he honestly thought he would chicken out and let the night play its course without intervening. He had been acting on instinct when he saw you with Kun. Zero thoughts, just action. And now he had you alone and you were looking at him so expectantly and-

“Vernon?”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you want to talk to me? Or were you just trying to be a good friend and get me away from that guy, because I know him and he’s cool. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, actually I did want to tell you something,” he confesses. “I’m just a little nervous.”

“Oh, is everything okay?”

Vernon takes a deep breath and stares at the floor. “Yeah, um, everything’s fine. Kind of.” He pauses again, hating the way his voice sounds. His words are coming out shaky and uncertain (because they are) and this was not how he pictured this moment going. He sneaks a glance at you and sees your expression soften. 

“Take your time,” you whisper, placing your hand over his. 

“I just don’t want you to look at me differently,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to... ruin our friendship- god, that sounds so corny.”

“Vernon,” you say his name again, firmer this time to get him to look at you. “I think I know what you’re trying to say.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You do?” 

You nod. “But I still want to hear you say it.”

Vernon groans into his hands. “Why! Do you want me to humiliate myself even more?”

“No, dummy, because I think I deserve to hear it. Don’t you?”

He can’t disagree with that. Even if it means risking the possibility of ruining everything.

“I think you’re really pretty,” he says stupidly, as if that encompasses everything he’s been feeling and thinking about you these past few months. 

You blink. “Is that it?”

“NO- sorry, shit. I- that didn’t come out the way I wanted it to. I do think you’re really pretty, though. Obviously. Honestly, I think you’re fucking gorgeous. I think... I think about you in a lot of ways that a friend probably shouldn’t.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “What kind of ways?”

“Are you really going to make me say it?” Vernon whines, hoping you can’t see the pink flush of his cheeks in the dark room. 

“No,” you relent with a chuckle. “I was just being annoying. But for the record, I also think about you in ways that friends probably shouldn’t.”

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm, do you want to know what kinds of ways?”

Vernon finds himself nodding even though his ears have started ringing and he’s not sure he’ll be able to hear your response. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the fact that you like him back. 

“Well, for one, I think you look very good in this Spider-man suit,” you say, running your fingers over the lycra. 

“You do?”

“It’s been driving me crazy all night,” you admit. “I was going to touch myself to the thought of you in it when I got home tonight.”

“Y-you were?” Vernon is apparently only capable of asking questions at the present moment but you don’t seem to mind. 

“I’ve been trying not to stare, but it fits you so well. You picked this on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted me to suffer because you know Spider-man is my favorite.”

“I didn’t think it would be so tight!”

“I’ll pretend to believe you,” you muse, and god, you’re so close to him...Vernon feels like he can’t breathe. 

Just like before, he lets his instincts lead him. No thoughts, just action.

He closes his eyes and leans forward, meeting you where you were waiting for him.  He presses his lips to yours lightly, savoring the surprised gasp you let out against his mouth. Your lips are so soft, just as soft as the rest of you. 

You’re the first to part your lips, inviting Vernon to slip his tongue into your mouth. He’s happy to do so, and he’s even happier when you moan in response. 

You start to lean forward, chasing the kiss even though Vernon hasn’t pulled away. It must still not be enough for you because, in the next breath, you stumble to your knees and climb onto his lap. 

Vernon’s hands automatically attach themselves to your hips to keep you steady as you straddle him. He shifts you awkwardly on top of him, trying to keep you off of his-

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, freezing in place. 

He can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. 

Why, god why, did this suit have to be so tight? He should’ve stopped you when you climbed onto his lap. He knows the effect you have on him, of course he’d be hard the second you started kissing him. Hell, he’s been fighting a boner the entire night. Just watching you walk around in your angel outfit was doing it for him. 

Sure, you were making out with him, and you’d made that dirty comment earlier, but that didn’t mean you were ready to fuck him. He would never assume that’s where the night was going but you might assume that he was assuming because you can feel how hard his fucking dick is under you...

“Why are you sorry?” you ask softly.

Vernon cringes at himself. “Because,” is all he says before you seem to get it. 

“Oh, that. I’m flattered.”

“Stop,” he whines, “I really didn’t mean to. You weren’t supposed to-”

“I know, baby,” you soothe him. Vernon doesn’t get the chance to melt at the pet name you’ve just called him because he’s still mid-panic, but he files it away for later. “But don’t worry. I think it’s really hot.”

“You do?”

You nod. “And I bet if you were able to feel me under my costume too, you’d know that you aren’t alone.”

“Wait, what?” he breathes. 

You lean forward again, chest pressed against his, to whisper in his ear. “I’ve been wet since you kissed me. Probably longer.”

You’re smirking when you pull back and Vernon is left to stare at you in shock. 

“See for yourself,” you say, repositioning yourself on his lap so that he has access to you. “Touch me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you going to make me beg for it?” you tease. Vernon goes stiff under you again, making you chuckle. “Maybe another time, then? Just slip your fingers under my leotard. I’ve soaked through my tights already.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m going to cum if you keep saying things like that,” he warns you. 

“Oh no whatever would we do?” you lament. “You can just get hard again if that happens, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Then come on, touch me. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

“I won’t waste any more time, then,” he assures you, gathering his confidence. 

He frees one of his hands by releasing your hip and brings it in between your legs, fingers trailing across your thigh in a way that makes you suck in a sharp breath. He ghosts his fingers over the material of your costume first, deciding it’s only fair to tease you back, at least a little. Then, he wiggles two of them under the elastic hem of your costume, where your hip meets your thigh. 

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding.”

“I... told you.”

He moves his fingers experimentally, offering you a little friction. “Does that feel good?”

You push yourself into his touch and nod. “Yeah, feels so good.”

“I really want to finger you,” he admits. 

“Oh, you do?”

“Is that okay? I mean, can I?”

“Totally, let me just—” 

You stand and wiggle out of your tutu, leaving you in your wings, leotard, and tights. The wings go next. You toss them on Soonyoung’s bed and then slip the straps of your leotard off your shoulders. You hesitate, looking a little nervous all of the sudden.

“I’m not wearing a bra under this,” you say. “Is that okay?”

Vernon almost laughs at the perpostuous question but he doesn’t. He almost says ‘are you kidding me, I’ve only been thinking about this exact moment for months now, please take it off,’ but he doesn’t. 

“Of course it’s okay,” is what he says instead, like a normal person. “But only if you feel comfortable with that.”

“I do, it’s just… I feel like after this we really won’t be able to go back.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Vernon insists. “I want this. I want you.” 

That seems to put you at ease. So much so, that you walk back over to where Vernon is still sitting on the floor and lean down to kiss him again. 

“You know, you have to take yours off too if you want to finger me,” you point out. 

Vernon wiggles his fingers inside the suit’s gloves and grins. “What, you don’t want these inside of you?”

“I don’t particularly want a yeast infection so, no. I don’t. And how are we supposed to do anything else if you’ve got that thing on anyway?” 

He pretends to pout. “I thought you liked the suit.”

“I do, but I can’t fuck you in it.” Vernon chokes on his own saliva when you say that but you don’t acknowledge it. “Unless there’s like a zipper for your dick or something?” 

“There’s not,” he mumbles hoarsely. “Had to take the whole thing off just to pee.”

“Then off. Unless you don’t want to-”

He’s already up and unzipping the back of the suit. 

It’s almost comical, the way you’re both struggling out of your tight costumes on opposite sides of the room. Vernon was able to get the zipper down but getting himself out of the material that clung to him like a second skin is a little more difficult. 

On your side, you’re tripping over your tights and shouting expletives to no one in particular. 

Finally, you’re both undressed. You’re left in just your panties and Vernon only had his briefs on. He’s usually a boxers guy but the spidey suit had called for something a little more snug.

You meet him back at the foot of the bed, smiling with apprehensive excitement. Immediately, his gaze falls to your boobs. He told himself he wouldn’t stare but god damn it, he’s only human. 

Once he’s done being blinded by your tits he takes in all of you. The soft lines and gentle curves of your body. The fullness of your lips. The delicate flutter of your eyelashes.

You still look like an angel in the white panties you’d chosen to wear under your costume— probably so they wouldn’t show through the other material. He could feel how wet you were before but now he can see it. The cotton is completely soaked through, making the white look translucent against you.

“Okay, I know you said you wanted to finger me, but I really want to fuck you.”

Vernon almost chokes again. “What?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

He’s the one to smirk this time, pulling you onto his lap. 

“I will fuck you,” he promises, “after I finger you.”

“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine as he kisses your neck. 

“I’ve got to prep you first, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But you felt how wet I was earlier! I can take it.”

Vernon takes your hand and places it over his bulge, making you gasp. It’s hard to think with your warm hand wrapped around him, even through his underwear, but he pushes through it.

“I’m not trying to brag or be an asshole about it, I swear. It’s just, I really don’t want to hurt you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat. 

Vernon resumes kissing your neck as one of his hands travels back in between your thighs. The other rests on your stomach, holding you in place. 

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and teases you some more before finally slipping one of them inside you. You go practically limp in relief and Vernon can’t help but tease you some more. 

“You were aching for it, weren’t you?” he coos. You nod. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I tried!”

“Aw, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

He adds another finger and nips lightly at a spot just beneath your jaw when you sigh happily. 

“Can I leave marks?” he asks, praying you’ll say yes because he’s pretty sure that bite will turn into a small bruise. 

“Yeah, do whatever you want,” you breathe. “I’ll wear turtlenecks to work. I don’t give a fuck.”

So he sucks at that same spot to make sure there will definitely be a hickey there in the morning. The idea of you walking around with visible proof of what he’s done to you makes Vernon’s cock twitch in his boxers. He sucks another hickey into your skin right below the first one, just for good measure. 

“C-can you put another one in?” you plead. 

How could he ever say no to you when you look so pretty and you sound so desperate? 

He adds a third and finds your clit with his thumb. He tests out a few patterns to see which you like best, settling on the one that has you chanting his name like a prayer. He thinks you might be getting close with the way you’re repeatedly clenching around his fingers but you reach out to stop him just when he has you on the edge. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” you assure him. “I didn’t want to cum yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I want my first time with you to be on your cock,” you explain. “Is that dumb?”

Vernon shakes his head so hard he makes himself dizzy. “No, not at all!” 

“Then can we fuck now?”

“Do you think you’re stretched enough?”

“Only one way to find out.”

-

You had gotten your underwear off and Vernon’s underwear off before realizing you needed a condom. Now you were both searching around Soonyoung’s room for one completely naked. 

“Found them!” Vernon exclaims, holding up a handful of assorted contraceptives.

They’d been in the bedside drawer of Soonyoung’s nightstand. Go figure. He lays them out on the bed and sighs loudly. 

“Doesn’t he have any normal ones?”

“What do you mean?” you ask and crane your neck to look over Vernon’s shoulder. 

“These are all... either flavored or textured! And this one fucking glows in the dark.”

“That could be fun,” you giggle.

“Yeah, I bet you’d love to ride a neon green dick, you little monster fucker.”

“Hey! Now is not the time to use my kinks against me.”

“Sorry, you’re right. But I think I’ll have to indulge that side of you another time when we’re not fucking in one of our best friends’ rooms.”

“Then what about this one?”

“That’s a joke, right?”

“Obviously,” you scoff. “I’m not trying to kill you.”

“Who thinks of making a peanut butter and jelly flavored condom in the first place?”

“Sick people, that’s who,” you answer, going back to sifting through the pile on the bed.

“I don’t think it’d kill me,” Vernon adds. “It’d probably just make my dick swell up really big- so maybe it wouldn’t be all bad.”

“No, because then we’d have to go to the ER and explain what happened.”

“Here, this one’s probably our best bet.” Vernon holds up the package for you to see. “Do you have any qualms against strawberry?”

“Nope. But it does make me want to suck your dick to see if it actually tastes like strawberry.”

“As much as I’d love that, I definitely won’t last if you do. And I really want to fuck you right now.” You pout. “What if I promise to buy more for us so you can try it another time?”

“Deal.”

“I’ll get a variety pack so you can suck me off to any fruit you want.”

“Wow, such a romantic.”

“You know me,” he jokes. 

You gather up the rest of the condoms and deposit them back in the drawer while Vernon rips open the foil and rolls the condom on. He’s still incredibly hard despite the small setback so it goes on without any trouble. 

There’s a blanket folded at the end of Soonyoung’s bed that you take and lay out on the floor. 

“I wouldn’t want my friends fucking on my bed,” you explain. 

“I don’t think he’d care,” Vernon replies. “He’d probably be happy for us. But you’re right, it’s the respectful thing to do.”

The respectful thing to do would be to wait until you get home, but you’ve already made it this far so....

Vernon sits on the floor with his back against the bed. He motions for you do join him and you do, slowly lowering yourself onto his lap. He’s careful to hold you up when he pushes the tip of his cock inside of you. He doesn’t want you to get overwhelmed and accidentally sink all the way down, making it even harder to adjust. 

“Fuck,” you whimper. 

“Is it too much?”

“N-no, feels good,” you assure him. “You’re just... fucking huge.”

He tries not to smirk when you say that. He knows he isn’t the biggest out there, especially where length is concerned, but he likes to think he’s pretty well off when it comes to girth. That’s why he was so insistent on fingering you before he fucked you. Why you’re having trouble taking just the tip. It’s certainly a stroke to his ego. Although, his ego might also be shattered in a few seconds if you don’t stop clenching around the head of his cock. 

“Take some deep breaths,” Vernon tries, using one of his hands to rub your back soothingly. 

It’s ironic coming from him, the guy who could barely flirt with you without having an existential crisis. 

But it seems to help because he feels you relax, some of the tension easing from your form. You sink down a little further, biting your lip to stifle any involuntary noises you might make. You’re so wet, so unbelievably turned on, your arousal is literally dripping down the shaft of Vernon’s cock, but you’re still struggling to fit him. 

“Are you still okay? We can stop if it’s hurting.”

You shake your head stubbornly. “No, I want to keep going.”

“Okay, well take your time. We’re not in a rush.”

“You might not be,” you mutter, “but I’m impatient.” 

Vernon laughs. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, baby, just take it easy. You’re doing so good for me.” 

He cranes his neck to kiss you, pulling your bottom lip from between your teeth with his own. Again, you relax a little more. 

“Can you-” you start to ask, still kissing him. 

He pulls away to be able to hear you. “Hm?”

“Can you rub my clit? I think that’ll help... oh, fuck.”

“There we go, angel. My angel.” 

His words make you moan and arch your back which pushes your tits into his face. Instinctively, he takes one of them into his mouth, using his free hand to play with the other. He works his tongue around your nipple, feeling the other harden against his palm.

“God, Vernon,” you mumble, “can I please move?”

He releases your boobs to nod and answer you. “Fuck yes.”

He has to close his eyes as you start to bounce on his cock because it already feels too good. Seeing your face contorted in pleasure would make him lose it. 

Then, there’s movement from outside the door, footsteps. Both of you freeze. Vernon’s eyes fly open to see yours wide with panic. He puts a finger to his lips and you nod in understanding. 

He can’t tell how many voices are in the hall, nor can he tell what they’re talking about, but he knows they’re right outside because he can see silhouettes of their shoes blocking the light coming in from under the door. 

It’s almost impossible for the two of you to stay still. You’re still so goddamn tight around his cock. And you’re still so fucking warm and wet and your cunt is pulsing around him uncontrollably-

Vernon whimpers. He fucking whimpers into your shoulder and you hear it. He can’t even focus on being mortified because he has to put all of his focus into not rutting into you and not cumming super fucking fast. 

He needs whoever’s outside to leave and he needs them to leave now. Thankfully, they must hear his internal pleas- or maybe they heard his external whimper, because the voices disappear down the hall a couple of beats later. 

He lets out a sigh of relief thinking he’s in the clear when he hears you sniffle, almost like you’re crying... then he jerks his head up to see that’s exactly what’s happening and panics. 

“Oh my god, what’s wrong? What hurts?” He’s frantic, hands all over you. 

“Nothing hurts-”

“Don’t lie to me! You’re crying! Here, lift up. I’m so sorry-”

“Vernon!” you shout. 

“What!”

“I wasn’t lying.”

He cocks his head to the side, trying to understand. “But...”

“It just happens sometimes. It’s involuntary but it means I’m feeling good. I promise.”

“This has happened to you before?”

“Yeah, mostly when I’m alone.”

He wants to know more. Wants to know what it is that triggers it. But now isn’t exactly the best time so he files the questions away for later and concentrates on... making you cry harder. 

It doesn’t take him long to figure out that he actually really likes watching you cry (in this context specifically). He’s never elicited such an extreme reaction from someone before. 

He catches a tear on his thumb and sucks it off, making your hips stutter. You cup his face and kiss him hard. It’s messy and salty and Jesus Christ, Vernon has never been so hard in his fucking life. 

“I’m close,” you warn him. 

“Thank god,” he laughs, kissing you again. 

He starts rubbing your clit to help you get there and you’re falling apart in a matter of seconds. You bite his shoulder to muffle a scream as you cum, sending him over the edge with you. 

You’re both breathless when you finally come down from your highs. Your legs are shaky as you climb off of his lap. They’re still trembling when you collapse next to him on the blanket. 

“Shit, that was good.”

“Yeah? Wanna go again?”

“Of course.”

“Give me like... ten minutes,” Vernon sighs as he lays down beside you. “Maybe fifteen.”

You laugh. “But doesn’t Spider-man have a super short refractory period?”

He gives you a look. “Not in this universe.”

happy birthday bestie i hope you enjoyed mwah &lt;3

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i don’t think i’ve seen anyone talk about this but i feel like sub!shua has a mommy kink…like just imagine those puppy eyes begging to cum 😣

awww sub!shua would be so fucking cute :(

he’d just writhe and whine underneath you as you bounce on his cock, tears welling in his eyes from how good you feel around him. he’d be a mess of sweat and tears, jerking harshly when you lick your thumb and rub the slick digit across his nipple. he’d have a harsh grip on your hips, unconsciously digging his nails into your flesh. you can’t help but smile at how fucked out he looks below you </3 you’d reach a hand up to his cheek to wipe the tears streaming down his face. “m-mommy,” he’d whimper, panting as he feels his orgasm approaching fast. “w-wanna cum—ah—needa c-cum,” he’d cry desperately, his hips slightly fucking up into you to feel you deeper. you’d chuckle at him, taking his nipple between your thumb and index fingers and twisting gently. “awww. does puppy wanna cum?” you’d coo, watching him nod his head eagerly. “then let go, baby. i’m not stopping you,” you’d coax, bouncing harder and listening to the erotic sound of your skin colliding reverberate through the room. he’d throw his head back, letting the loudest whimpers escape his lips as you praise him. “been so good for me, such a good boy.” he’d spill inside you with a yelp, blurting out his gratitude as you ride him through his high. “thank y-you, mommy…love you, love you so m-much…”

---

can't get you out of my head

member | fwb!vernon x f reader genre | smut, like a little tiny bit of angst? with a happy ending word count | 2.4k synopsis | so what if calling your fuck buddy every other day is a little excessive? maybe you're just in love with him. smut warnings | descriptions of female anatomy, lots and lots of kissing, some dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, begging, creampie warnings | vernon is called hansol - i don't usually do that but just go with it; vernon is kind of a sweetheart tbh this ended up being pretty soft notes | june is back !! i've really been struggling to write these past few months so i'm actually super proud that i was able to sit down and write this as fast as i did. i can't promise another fic anytime soon or any kind of consistent uploads, but i hope you enjoy this meager offering! thanks for the support even while i've been gone :) also this is based on a dream i had about vernon the other day and i could not stop thinking about it it was driving me crazy, so everyone say thank you to my brain or the sandman or whoever put that idea in my dreams because this fic is a result of it. if there are mistakes pls ignore i wrote this at 2am

the thing you remember most about hansol is his lips.

the first time you kissed him was like opening a door to a world you'd never known existed. your past hookups had been terrible kissers, or even worse—hadn't even tried to kiss you at all. you were sick of the boring, underwhelming sex with men who couldn't care less if you got off or not. but some god or being in the universe must've been looking out for you, because finding hansol was nothing short of a miracle.

it was so good, you weren't even that embarrassed when you'd desperately texted him a couple of nights later, practically begging him to come over and fuck you again. he was burned into your brain, the feeling of his mouth locked with yours seared so deep in your memory you couldn't erase him if you tried, but it wasn't exactly like you wanted to. 

he hadn't explicitly said you would only be a one night stand, but you usually didn't hang around the same guy for too long, and he didn't really seem like the commitment type anyway. but when you find something this good, you don't let it go, and somehow you both knew that whatever this was, it was too good to pass up on.

so it wasn't really a surprise when you found yourself on his couch, straddling his lap in the late hours of the night for the third time this week. 

like you remembered, his lips were warm and soft, his cheek brushing against yours as you melted into him. you could kiss him for hours and not notice the time passing at all, so focused on the rhythm of his mouth working you up more than anything you'd done with any man you'd slept with before.

the heat of his hands resting on your hips sends shivers up and down your spine, unconsciously arching towards him as his tongue pushes into your mouth.

one gentle hand travels carefully up beneath your shirt, tracing the skin of your stomach before stopping at your breast, your heartbeat racing beneath his palm.

your breath is hot on his cheek as you readjust your position, slipping your knees onto either side of his hips and sinking down to straddle his lap. your clothed cunt throbs as he presses his bulge against the inside of your thigh, and you don't hold back the open-mouthed moan that escapes you as his other hand quickly reaches up to angle your jaw and guide your lips back to his.

you push your hips down a little harder on him and his nails dig into your breast. his grip tightens a little as his hips cant up against you, desperate for more pressure against his strained cock.

your eyelids flutter as his other hand tilts your chin upwards, finally breaking away from your mouth only to reattach his lips at the base of your jaw. his tongue laves over your skin before he starts to suck, and you shiver when he pulls back and cold air hits the wet patch of spit on your neck.

you have to focus hard not to drool when you open your eyes and catch a glimpse of his face, lust-glazed eyes staring up at you through his long, thick lashes, his intense gaze fixed on you.

if you ever get past this weird in-between stage of talking but not talking, maybe you'll tell him how jealous you are of his beautiful, natural eyelashes. if you ever actually get to have a conversation with him outside of calling to hook up, maybe you'll tell him how nice his lips are. you'll tell him how soft his hands are and how he's by far the best person you've ever slept with, leaps and bounds better than all the rest, and—

before you fully realize what's happening, you feel your shirt being pulled over your head and hansol's lips have made their way down to your chest. without a sound his hands roam your body, fingers drawing invisible lines over your bare skin and leaving trails of goosebumps with every touch.

he doesn't talk much during sex, or maybe you just don't know each other well enough yet for him to have much to say. aside from the way he occasionally murmurs about how perfect you are — an oddly intimate thing to say to someone who's just a friend with benefits, but coming from him it sounds so casual — the only words you ever get out of him are curses and whimpered pleas.

the only words he ever gets out of you are shamelessly begging him, please kiss me again, please, hansol; and you're always too far gone to care about how whiny you sound, because you need his lips on you so fucking bad you think you might just die without them. but he always obliges, quickening the speed of his thrusts and wrapping his arms around you tighter so he can kiss you deeper, until your lips are numb and you can still feel the weight of him holding you even hours after he's gone.

so maybe you do have a teeny tiny crush on hansol. anyone in their right mind would, and when he's finished with you tonight you're sure you won't have much mind left to even think about it. certainly this is a problem for another day, a day when you'll inevitably call him again so he can make you lose your mind all over again and you won't have to think about how much you like him, and you'll continue like that for who knows how long. 

maybe he'll get bored of you, or find someone else, or move to another city too far for you to justify travelling for a relationship that isn't even a relationship…

… but then he lets out a little groan and you fall back into reality, the reality where you've been making out with him for the past half hour and he quietly but confidently lets you know if he doesn't get his dick out soon he's definitely going to cum in his pants and not only will it make him look like a loser but he also won't get to fuck you, which is the whole reason you asked him to meet up tonight, right?

well, yeah, you guess, but a part of you knows there's more to it than that. but that's not really a conversation for right now.

you lean down to press another chaste kiss against those lips that you can't stop thinking about, and your fingers pull his t-shirt over his head before finding their way down to the button at the top of his jeans.

you've had his cock inside you more times than you think you deserve, but still your stomach bubbles with excitement as he lifts his hips and shimmies out of his pants, the outline against his briefs more than enough to make your mouth water before he slips those off, too.

for tonight, you're the recipient of his undivided attention. you alone get to have him and his perfect cock all to yourself; maybe not forever, but for right now, and that's all you really need.

he presses his hand against his bulge, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as you stand up from his lap to kick off your pants and underwear.

you must have been taking too long for his liking, though, because as soon as you're fully nude his hands tug impatiently at your waist and pull you back down onto him. 

he lets out a heavy sigh, the head of his cock pressed deliciously against your clit as you start to rock your hips back and forth.

but before long his hands bring you to a stop and he lets out his usual string of pleas to let him fuck you, and now it's your turn to sigh in relief as he pushes into you, the stretch so natural like he was the only one who was made to sit you on his lap.

he doesn't move right away. he never moves right away, whether to give you a chance to adjust or maybe because he himself can't handle the feeling. either way, you always struggle to take in a shaky breath as your walls flutter around him, perfectly thick and long that you could probably cum untouched like this if you sat there for long enough.

but as badly as you want to never move and let him cockwarm you for hours, he always eventually moves. 

he starts out slow, just a few inches at a time, a gentle in and out that's almost romantic until you feel like you can breathe normally again— right before he knocks the breath out of you, increasing his pace until the room is filled with the loud sounds of skin against skin.

he always fucks you like it's been months since he's came, even though you know for a fact it was last thursday and all over your stomach. all you can do now is hang onto his broad shoulders for dear life, nails scratching helplessly at his muscles as he carries you up and over the edge, pushing you into the first of many orgasms tonight.

sometimes he'll make a comment about how wet you get when he fucks you like this, rough and fast as he pounds into you like there's no tomorrow. and that's when you'll agree, yes you love it so much, yes he's so good, yes you need more and please, please keep going.

if it were anyone else they'd probably smirk at that, satisfied with the momentary boost to their ego. but that's what you love about hansol, is that he's not anyone else: he'll take those words and use them to somehow fuck you even rougher and even faster, so rough and so fast that sometimes tears will start to roll down your cheeks, and that's usually about when you start begging him to kiss you.

you can't help it. the way he bounces you so effortlessly on his cock, his lips parted and beads of sweat trickling down his neck, you need him bad. you want to be closer to him, closer than you know is physically possible but damn if you won't try anyway.

throwing your hands around his neck and falling against his chest, tears still streaming from your eyes as you plead with him, repeating his name over and over and over like you've lost your mind and he's the only thing left. in all honesty, maybe he is.

he quietly shushes you and tilts his chin up to capture your lips in the kiss you so badly crave, and it's everything you need and more and somehow still not enough but you can't think straight anymore when his cock is hitting you just right and his mouth is also just right and each vein, each curve, each ridge, drags perfectly along your walls and he's splitting you open and goddamn you are ruined for anybody else.

you feel like you're skirting in and out of consciousness when you cum again, squeezing around his cock so tight that even his powerful thrusts can't continue at their current pace.

it isn't long before he lets go too, holding you flush against his body as he fills you up, painting your insides white with a breathy moan, and in a weird way it makes you feel kind of proud.

you both sit there for a moment, panting as you start to come down.

without even standing up you already know your legs are jell-o, but you don't really have time to think about that as hansol lifts you off his lap and sets you carefully on the couch, leaving you with another kiss before he stands up and disappears down the hall, returning seconds later with a towel that looks suspiciously new.

you'd asked him about his bathroom towels last time you'd been over at his place. a mismatched collection of white and brown and aquamarine that he'd taken with him when he'd moved out of his parent's house, he said, he'd never really had a reason to buy a set of his own. 

the grey cloth in his hand now that he uses to gently wipe between your legs is one you don't remember seeing.

he finishes and you want him to kiss you again, but you're too shy to ask now so he leaves you again with just a kind smile this time.

you've put most of your wrinkled clothes back on by the time he comes back. he offers to drive you home every time afterwards, but you always insisted you were fine, already feeling like you'd overstayed your welcome.

this time he doesn't offer, though, just quietly sits down next to you to pull on his own clothes until you're both fully dressed.

he speaks before the awkward silence has time to set in.

"have you been seeing anybody else?" he asks, and it's probably the longest sentence he's spoken to you outside of when he's fucking you.

it takes you a couple seconds to say no. god, you sound like a loser, but you couldn't lie to him. since the very first time with hansol the thought of seeing anyone besides him hadn't even crossed your mind. just like you thought; ruined.

it takes him a couple seconds to reply, too. 

"good," he says, and you could almost swear his cheeks are pinker than usual as he admits that he hasn't been with anyone, either. "could we keep it that way?"

your breath catches a little. "yeah?"

"yeah," he answers. "whatever… this is, i like it. and i like you."

and just like that, things make sense. 

"maybe, would you, y'know, wanna stay this time?" he asks, and you can't hide the grin on your face as you lean over and kiss him again, your answer evident in the way your hand falls against his warm chest and your fingers weave gently through his hair.

everything is so simple with hansol.

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---

grown man plays with his hair too much. grown woman goes insane over it.

bonus : (see: what you should show the ICU doctors when they ask why my heart stopped)

---

tidal.

but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.” 

pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Vernon isn’t blind. 

He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.

So, yes, Vernon can see you. 

He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.

He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright. 

You still don’t seem to notice.

His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” is all he gets in response. 

You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you. 

None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.

Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you. 

You don’t reciprocate. 

He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.

Which, for the record, he does not.

This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”

Ope. 

It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.

“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”

He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”

Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.

“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”

For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.

“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”

Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”

Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”

And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.

But you don’t say anything.

Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk. 

Do you or do you not want this right now?

You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”

He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.

Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.

For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.

You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so. 

But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever —  have to convince me to fuck you.” 

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.

To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple. 

“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw. 

Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access. 

He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”

“Oh?” 

You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat. 

Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.

“It might be messy…” 

The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.

Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”

And he means it. 

Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.

You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.

“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound. 

You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.

But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

Oh, shit. Government name?

“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”

Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”

“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.

You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”

“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”

You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.

Maybe.

Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?

As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life. 

It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic. 

Perhaps.

After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.

“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.

Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.

You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.

He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.

That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.

While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.

As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.

When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.

The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.

“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”

I chose this one?

You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.

Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”

It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.

“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.” 

You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.

Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”

“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”

His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”

I choose this one.

Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.

You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”

“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you. 

You arch an eyebrow, unfazed. 

“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”

He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.

You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.

“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”

Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist. 

“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”

He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.

Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”

“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.

He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.

At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”

“We can workshop it.”

“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”

It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.

You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”

You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”

He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.

“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”

You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.

That’s when it hits you:

Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.

God, you want him.

One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.

“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”

Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.

He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”

The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.

“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”

The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.

With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him. 

“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”

He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”

Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”

“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.

You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”

Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.

Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”

That hits like a truck.

He was waiting on you. 

You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before. 

Christ. 

His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.

Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”

Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.

“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.

You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you. 

You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.

The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.

“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”

His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.

You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you. 

“Fuck!”

Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.

His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”

“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.

Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”

The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.

Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”

You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.

“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”

He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”

You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.

“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”

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Put my head between that arm and let me die happy 😩🥵🤤🫠 …….

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