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operation: hot girl summer

PAIRING ▸ vernon chwe x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, humor, summer romance au, best friends to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, weed consumption, ft. annoying friends seungkwan and chan, vernon is also annoying but in moderation, so much sexual tension!!, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap!), high sex, thigh riding, fingering, vernon has a dog named taco bell

SUMMARY ▸ the summer you started putting more effort into your appearance also happens to be the summer where vernon chwe’s piercing gaze leaves you feeling like you’re floating high up in the clouds.

PLAYLIST ▸ i need u, in the summertime by warren hue, chasu • vintage by niki 

WORD COUNT ▸ 4,890 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hihi !! this is kind of my svtblr debut ?? i just wanted to write a short drabble bc i’m experiencing post concert depression and in my vernon feels rn <//3 LOL i thought of this spontaneously and spent four hours writing it but i hope you guys enjoy! 

DURING THE SUMMER FOLLOWING YOUR FRESHMAN YEAR AT COLLEGE, YOU DECIDED IT WAS TIME FOR A CHANGE.

After an entire year of wearing the same oversized sweater and denim jeans to your lecture halls and club meetings, you realized it was about time for a wardrobe upgrade. With the money you set aside from your part-time job, you spent the first week of summer buying clothing that accentuated your body type and didn’t make you look like a shapeless blob lost in a sea of fabric.

You also invested in makeup products to practice enhancing your features. Your first few attempts were downright atrocious, but many YouTube tutorials and makeup remover wipes later, you found yourself getting the hang of it.

To be honest, this was mainly spurred by your mid-finals week epiphany that you were the only one in your friend group who still looked like her high school self. Everyone had worked on their image or managed to magically glow up, but you were still stuck with the same style.

Keep reading

the feeling you get when vernon arrives home today is so unfamiliar and so indescribably wrong. instead of jumping up to kiss him, or yelling a greeting from the couch, you feel your stomach twist.

because you don’t know if he wants to see you right now.

so you stay put. curled up on the bed — muscles tense, eyes glancing towards the door, knowing that your boyfriend’s going to walk in any second, and you’re still mad. less mad, but still mad.

you’d had a fight. nothing wild, but it had been building for some time, you could feel it, and when vernon forgot to get the milk you so desperately needed, you snapped. he hadn’t had time for you recently. he forgot about your movie date. he didn’t remember to pick you up from work.

he didn’t have time to argue with you; he had somewhere to be, so vernon had drawn his brows together, stayed silent until you were done, and then, in a hushed tone, said that he’d see you in a few hours. his manager was waiting.

and when he does walk in the room now, vernon’s eyes are drawn to you immediately. there’s a moment where you lock gazes, and then you break eye contact, getting up and walking to the kitchen.

“don’t,” he calls after you, from the bedroom door. “please don’t walk away from me right now.”

some bitter, resentful side of you wants to throw up your middle finger and keep going. but you don’t, because, despite the past few weeks, vernon is good to you. he’s so fucking good to you. and you know that throwing his hard work, extra work, in his face like this isn’t what he deserves.

so you stop. you don’t turn, but you hear him coming up behind you, pausing, and then you feel his arms slipping round your waist from behind; his forehead rests against your shoulder. you can feel his gentle breath against the place your neck and shoulder meet, and you feel his lips there too after a moment.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs against your skin, so quiet that if you’d breathed wrong, you wouldn’t have heard it. “i love you. i’m sorry.”

you feel like crying, but you don’t want to do that. so instead you turn in his arms, burying yourself into his shirt — your voice comes out strangled when you speak. “i missed you.”

“i know,” he breathes, holding you tighter, clinging to you — like you’re precious. like if he let go, you’d slip through his fingers and he’d never be the same. “i know.”

he kisses your shoulder again, and you say your three words back to him, and that won’t fix it forever, but it fixes it now; it fixes it until you’re both ready to talk; it fixes it enough.

an / 👍

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao (+ send an ask to be added!)

hi leslie!!!!!!! there were so many good prompts it was hard to narrow it down, but i finally decided on:

vernon + “you’re important too”

hope you have a great week and a fun time writing!! 💜✨

Hi Savv!!! Thank you so much for this. (Fun fact: my birthday was this past Sunday and I may or may not have based this slightly in truth. Birthdays are hard.)

Thank u for submitting!!!! xx

A/N: If you read and enjoy this, please reblog and/or send a comment! I'd love to know what you think.

Pairing: Vernon x Reader Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: kissing, sad reader

Today is your birthday. 

Today is your birthday, and there’s a room full of all the people you care about celebrating you, with the perfect decorations and a stunning cake and flowers and balloons and the perfectly curated playlist. 

It’s your birthday, and everything has gone right, so nothing should logically be able to explain why you’re sitting on the floor of your room, your back against the bed, tears streaming silently down your cheeks.

The simplest explanation is this: you’re tired.

You’re tired of doing everything for everyone else and feeling like your energy is never matched. Why is it always you who remembers the little things? Why is it always you who plans the best parties and surprises, who knows what your closest friends like? Why is it always you who will go the extra mile without being asked? 

You’d planned out your whole birthday on your own. You’d picked out the decorations, made the playlist, done it all because none of your friends had offered to do it for you. They love you, you know that, but why didn’t anyone take over? Would they have planned something for you if you’d left it alone? You don’t know, and you think the not knowing is what has you currently sitting on your bedroom floor. One minute you’d been in the kitchen, looking at how cute the cake was that you’d picked out; the next, you could feel yourself spiralling, and you couldn’t even say exactly why.

You’re tired, and you feel selfish for needing a minute to feel bad for yourself in the middle of your own party. You feel silly for crying, silly for not knowing what it was that set you off, silly for needing to hide away for a little bit. 

You pride yourself on being a fairly level-headed individual. You can be dramatic at the best of times, of course, but you always try your best to keep your cool. You never want to cause a scene around the people you care about, or make anyone feel bad, especially about something as trivial as your emotions. The only thing that always throws a wrench in your plans to play it cool is that you will cry involuntarily at the most inopportune moments, no matter how much you try to avoid it. 

That said, you’ve gotten a lot better at hiding your mini breakdowns lately – gotten better at sneaking away into bathrooms and side rooms to be alone before the tears start to fall, better at convincing everyone that nothing is amiss when you return. This time, even in the middle of your own party, you’d made it to your room without alerting anyone, and you’d thought no one was any the wiser.

You thought. You thought you’d gotten better at hiding your emotional spirals. You thought no one noticed when you were gone. You should have known that Vernon doesn’t count.

Vernon — your boyfriend of only a few months, and already one of the best things that's ever happened to you. Your wonderful and patient and funny and kind boyfriend. He’s a little clueless sometimes, but you don’t mind – you’ve always been a good communicator, and he’s always been a good listener. You promise to tell him when you’re upset, and he promises to ask if he’s unsure. That’s the rule.

Which you may or may not have definitely broken in the last month. 

You hadn’t told him anything about how upset you were while planning your own birthday party. You had brushed off his offers to help, telling him you had it all under control, which was true – the party planning part, at least. What you don’t have any control over is feeling sad that none of your friends had offered to plan your day for you, but Vernon can’t fix that, so why should you have told him? He’s a chill guy, letting you take the reins because you had said you wanted to, oblivious to your inner turmoil. It isn’t his fault that he doesn’t know how you’re feeling – it’s your fault for not telling him — and you figure it doesn’t matter, anyway. You’re the one being silly about it all, and you didn’t feel the need for him to be dragged into it.

So you hadn’t told him anything. 

Which is why saying you’re surprised to hear him knocking on your bedroom door only minutes after you disappeared from your own festivities would be an understatement. 

“Hey.” His quiet voice, followed by the sound of your bedroom door clicking shut, has another fresh round of tears rolling down your cheeks. You squeeze your eyes shut, like that will somehow make the tears invisible to him, not opening them even as you feel him take a seat next to you. You really don’t want him to see you like this, but there’s no choice now. You’re grateful that he doesn’t comment, simply taking your hand and bringing it into his lap, thumb gently brushing against the back of it as he waits for you to calm down.

“Sorry,” you finally manage to whisper.

“Apology rejected.”

You feel the corners of your mouth tilt up at the phrase you both use when the other makes an unnecessary apology, even when they’ve done nothing wrong. It’s a joke between the two of you that serves as a reminder that you’re safe with each other. That you're safe with him.

It’s quiet for another few moments before he speaks again. “A birthday party doesn’t really work if the one being celebrated isn’t there, you know.”

You frown, wiping at your cheek with your free hand, finally meeting his eyes for the first time in a while. “Sorry,” you say again.

Your boyfriend gives you a stern look but doesn’t comment this time, a hand reaching across to brush off any remaining tears from your face. “You were so excited for today. Did something happen?”

You bite your lip with a shrug, looking down and away from him again. “Nothing really happened. I just got overwhelmed, I guess.”

“Sensory overload?”

“No,” you say softly. “Just… feelings.”

“I can see that,” he smiles gently, his tone soft with just the perfect amount of teasing, and you’re grateful for him yet again as he lets you process. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he just sits with you in silence, nothing but the sound of your breathing and the muted boom boom boom of Britney Spears in the background. Vernon squeezes your hand once, twice, before standing up and pulling you up and onto your bed. He lies down and brings you with him, moving onto his side to see you better, and you lie on your stomach, your arms folded so you can rest your head. 

“I don’t want to sound selfish, or make you feel bad, or make anyone feel bad, or…” You trail off, feeling the tears start to well up again, and before you know it you’re crying once more. You feel absolutely ridiculous, not even sure how to explain how you’re feeling to yourself, let alone to someone else. “I don’t want to tell you because I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful.”

“Hey,” Vernon says softly. “What’s our rule? You need to tell me these things or I won’t know.” He pauses, fingers tracing the softest of circles up and down your spine “And I want to know.”

You feel a rush of guilt. You know you should have told him, that he would have helped, that he would have understood, or at least tried to. So why didn’t you?

“I just feel silly,” you admit, tears still flowing freely. “I just…” You sniffle, and Vernon watches you quietly, shifting so that his position mimics yours, his head moving to rest on his own arms. “I just wish that people did for me what I do for them. I wish that my friends knew what I wanted and did it without being told. I wish I didn’t feel like I had to plan my own party or I wouldn’t get one at all. I know that all sounds selfish, I know it does, but I just wish that I didn’t have to ask for someone to know exactly what I want!” 

As soon as you finish talking, you’re immediately being pulled into a sturdy, warm chest. Your boyfriend wraps his arms entirely around you, pulling you in as tight as you can go. You have a fleeting thought amidst the tears that you’re so incredibly lucky to get this side of him – the warm, comforting, soft side. Everyone who meets him loves him – he’s shy, but witty, and he’s polite and thoughtful and a joy to be around, and though he doesn’t often approach people first, he has no trouble making friends — but not everyone gets to be wrapped up in his arms like this. 

“First of all,” he murmurs as he pulls back just a little, enough to let your heads rest on the pillow as he looks at you. “You’re not selfish – you’re maybe the least selfish person I know.”

You sigh, but don’t offer a rebuttal, and a hand lifts to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. You try to push down the guilt you feel for complaining at all, leaning into the feeling of Vernon’s fingers gently threading through your hair.

“You do so much for everyone around you all the time, it’s only fair for you to expect that in return,” he continues. “But the truth is that you’re not always going to get it back in the same way, even from the people who love you the most. That doesn’t mean we don’t love you in different ways. Think about when that girl at work gives you all of the red Skittles, or when you get a text with a song rec from Jihoon. Or When Seokmin buys you three bags of chips because he knows you like at least one of them but can’t remember which one.” Vernon beams when you crack a smile at that. “How many of your friends helped you decorate? How many of them did exactly what you asked them to do because they know you love to plan and wanted to help you make your vision come true? That’s love, too, isn’t it?”

You nod. You know he’s right. It’s quiet for a moment as you let his words sink in, your fingers idly playing with the chain around his neck. 

“What about how you keep a list of my favourite snacks and our anniversary date in a note on your phone so you don't forget them?” You watch as his cheeks flush crimson as soon as the words leave your mouth, and you hold back a smile at his reaction.

“You know about that?” He sounds mortified, turning his face to bury it in the pillow. You can’t help but giggle now, your hand lifting to gently run through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Mhm. Saw it when you were pulling up your grocery list the other day.”

“Well then, yeah,” he admits begrudgingly, turning his face to look at you again. You teasingly pull at his earlobe before your fingers softly trace his jaw. “That counts.”

“As love?” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it, your hand freezing against his cheek, but Vernon barely bats an eyelash. 

“Yeah.” 

You stare at one another for a moment, the air around you suddenly tense. You can barely hear the music anymore as he looks at you. He doesn’t seem phased by your comment at all, and you vow to bring it up later – but you’ll leave it for now.

“Okay,” you whisper in affirmation, and he smiles.

“Okay.”

You kiss him first. It’s soft, a quick press of your mouth to his, but it has your toes curling regardless. And before you can pull away completely, his hand finds your waist and he pulls you back in, mouth moving slowly against yours as he kisses you senseless.

You’re startled when he pulls away suddenly, eyebrows raised almost to the sky, and you blink back at him in surprise. “What?”

“You distracted me!” 

You let out a snort. “Sorry.”

“I’ll accept that rightful apology,” he says, and you roll your eyes as he continues. “What I was saying before you attacked me was,” he dives right back in as though there had been no ‘I-may-have-admitted-I-love-you’ or make-out interludes, “that you’re important, too.” He waits for it to settle, lets you sit for a minute in the discomfort, knowing how hard those words are for you to accept. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, and he smiles. 

“You can ask for help when you need it, or you can do it all by yourself, whatever you want. You just have to ask. So many of us would have planned a party for you if we knew that’s what you wanted,” he tells you. “What you want matters. It’s just that sometimes, you need to tell other people what that is. We’re not all A+ mind-readers like you.” He’s grinning now at his own jab, and you pout. 

“I’m not a mind-reader,” you protest. “I’m an empath. It’s different!”

Vernon is beaming, and you know he’s pleased that he’s distracted you from being sad. “How about using some of that empathy to come back to the awesome party you planned so I don’t have to talk to your friends alone?” 

Tagging some loves @wqnwoos @dejavernon @tae-bebe @savventeen

when you've been whining about the same thing over and over again and hansol has had enough

a/n: just some random burst of words. fluff. friends to ???. talks abt kissing lol

You're starting to question your decision of befriending Chwe Hansol.

You don't even know if he's listening to you, but it's just his default setting to look like he's spacing out on you even if he isn't.

It doesn't bother you usually, but you're a little more sensitive today just because and you don't appreciate him not making a single noise when you've been babbling for the past ten minutes.

"Say something!"

He looks at you bored, though you knew yet again that it's just how he looks. He cares, you know he cares, but you're in one of your annoying mood and it's somehow Hansol's burden to carry today.

"What do you want me to say?" He asks, genuinely wanting to know what kind of answer you're expecting from him. "You've been saying you want someone to kiss since, like, two weeks ago. I told you to go to the club. Didn't you?"

"I did." You pout, and then plop your head on his shoulder as Hansol moves to let you lean on him more comfortably. You don't even know why you're complaining about this to him of all people instead of your other friends, don't even know what kind of comfort you're expecting from the most practical and idealistic friend you've ever haf in your life.

"Why didn't you kiss anyone?"

"No one's my type."

He doesn't miss a second to flick your forehead, and you make a show of saying it hurts (it does hurt, just not as much as you make it to be) as you lean away and cover your forehead with your palm. The glare you send his away doesn't deter him in any way.

"Why do you want to kiss someone so bad?" He asks you seriously, turning his body to face you.

"It's just been too long..."

"You watched another romance movie, didn't you?"

"Shut up."

"I told you to stop watching them if they make you feel like this!"

It's never easy to tell what Hansol is thinking about even though he's one of the most transparent people out there. You think that's why he's all the more unpredictable.

And like right now as you continue to stupidly debate over the romance movie marathon you had last night, you're not sure why he's entertaining you this much when your other friends would just shut up at some point and let you continue whining about your misery.

"I just want someone to kiss!"

"You don't just want someone to kiss if you're being picky about who you're kissing."

"I'm not picky." You huff. "I simply don't want to kiss strangers. What if they're creepy?"

Hansol stares at you incredulous, and you did a tiny victory dance in your head because you manage to leave him speechless. It doesn't matter that he's probably just tired of this conversation, it still counts as a victory to you.

"See? I knew you'd get my point eventually. I just want to--"

You don't get to finish your sentence as his hands reach for your face and his lips close over yours. You blink continuously for a few seconds, then succumbs into the warmth of his mouth on yours and his palms on your cheeks, and close your eyes to return the kiss.

You're a little out of breath when you pull away, and you still can't tell what goes over his head as his eyes stares into your soul.

"Next time you complain about this," he starts, his palms don't move from your face. You're pretty sure he can hear the loud sound of your heartbeats and feel the warmth emitting from your cheeks. "That's what I'm going to do, got it?"

You nod, pressing your lips together as if to feel his lips once more, a little disappointed when you don't feel the same spark from the real thing.

"Is it okay if I just ask you to kiss me again?"

Hit : Vernon

🌙 staring. Vernon x afab!Reader

🔮 synopsis. You might not be great at taking the large bong your frat friends pass around at parties, but Vernon has at least one pipe you can handle ;)

cw/ tw. weed/drug use, shotgunning, sex without a condom, big dick! Vernon, cock warming, fingering, boob worship, soft pet names, lots of grinding/heavy petting and build up, cockhigh reader dumbification, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.1k

🍭 aus. frat au, stoner!Vernon, love triangle, friends to lovers

☀️ mlist + an. soft stoner vernon can like… get it 👀

Prologue : Then 

As if your first day of university can’t get any more nerve-racking or heart lurching, you’re equal parts shocked, dismayed, and excited to stumble upon one of the prettiest guys you’ve ever seen when you finally find your orientation group.

Everything happens quickly, and you can hardly focus while the circle of 20 people go through short introductions, your eyes keep finding the guy that looks way too attractive to be a first year-

The man next to your mystery crush is a music major and introduces himself as, “Boo Seungkwan, but I’m Seungkwan, not Boo-”

Hazle brown eyes light up with a smile at his friend’s antics, and just as you’re about to start drooling at how pretty he is, it’s the man in muted tones’ turn to speak.

“Hi, I’m Hansol,” he says, giving a small wave to the circle. “I’m in history for sure, and maybe a minor in philosophy, but we’ll see.”

He has a way of speaking that transfixes you, a way of being-

But before you can think much more of it, your orientation group leader is announcing “we’ll now be splitting off into smaller teams to look at the different arts buildings you’ll be learning in for the majority of your time on campus.” 

You’re not a history major, so you don’t end up in the group that goes to take an ‘in depth look’ at the history building, and a rumbling of emotions builds within you when you watch the pretty boy disappear from view.

While you might be in the same faculty at the same university, it’s a big campus, and there’s no guarantee you’ll see him ever again. 

Keep reading

& how can you be so fine when i --?

COME, COME INTO MY _WORLD.

— Choi Hansol, 2023.

[GOING SEVENTEEN] EP.93 가위바위보 #1 (Rock Scissors Paper #1)

i'm completely normal about him.

VERNON | 'Snap Shoot' @ MCOUNTDOWN 19.09.19

“you’re staring at me,” vernon says, without looking away from the tv screen. “again.”

quickly, you avert your eyes back to the movie. “was not.”

“you were.” you don’t dare look again, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “don’t get shy on me now,” he adds, reaching over to prod your arm with a smirk. “you can stare at me all you want, baby.”

you pretend to shudder, still refusing to look at him. “cringe.”

“you’re cringe,” he retorts childishly, but shifts closer as he does it. turns over your palm in his hand, traces the lines with a gentle finger, and asks you, in a softer tone. “what is it?”

you play dumb. “what’s what?”

vernon sighs, casts you a look that you don’t return. “what’s bothering you?”

part of you wants to shrivel up and die — the mortifying ordeal of being known is, in fact, mortifying. but another part of you, a stronger part of you, thinks it’s sweet, actually. that he knows you so well.

it’s not surprising, though. you and vernon are… some sort of undefined, ambiguous thing, some vague space between friends and dating, something hazy — and something special, on top of all that.

you’ve been on kind-of dates. out to dinner, to the park, to watch the sunrise, to meet his sister once, even. you haven’t kissed, but you’ve held hands; you haven’t said i like you, but he calls you baby, sometimes. and sometimes you even say it back.

you feel it. hanging in the air between you — again, some shapeless, undefined, abstract concept, which was fine at first, but now it’s getting to you.

“i don’t want to be that person,” you say, in a small voice, gaze fixed to your joined hands. “but… what are we?”

vernon keeps playing with your fingers, silent for a moment. his voice is quiet, mirroring yours, when he answers. “whatever you’d like us to be,” he says finally, and it’s his turn to avoid your gaze, staring determinedly down at your fingers as though they hold the secrets of the universe.

“i think,” you say slowly; and he looks up when you don’t finish, only to see you smiling — one of those gorgeous, heart-rending smiles that makes him ache a little. “i think,” you begin again, “that i’d like to kiss you now.”

an equally breathtaking smile breaks onto vernon’s face. “i think i’d like that very much.”

an / my obsession w writing vernon & f2l needs to be studied.

taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting

[17:terview] EP. VERNON : 'Black Eye'.

bonus (see: gifs you can hear) :

if jeonghan got kinda big again i think i’d just kill myself. like i’ve seen the images of him w like… big arms… and no. i cant. like i think i could MAYBE handle vernon getting buff even tho he’s 10000% my bias but no i couldn’t handle jeonghan i can’t explain it

“have you ever been in love?”

vernon’s question comes straight out of the blue. there’s a movie playing on the tv, but you’re just now realising that he hasn’t been following along at all — he’s been looking at you.

“in love?” you repeat, and you don’t answer the question. on purpose, because this — whatever hangs between you two — is still relatively new. “why?”

he shrugs. “just ‘cause. i think i’m in love with you.”

you freeze; eyes flit to him, where he reclines casually on the sofa, brown hair falling over his eyes, features soft and golden in the dim light. the lightbulb needs changing, you register distantly. he said he loves me.

“oh,” you manage finally, and there’s something large and warm and bright swelling in your chest. something warm and wet pricking at your eyes too, but nothing can take away from this feeling. this moment is yours, forever. “oh.”

vernon’s eyes flit between the screen and the ground, before landing on you. (the colour brown has never looked so beautiful.) “you don’t have to say anything.” his voice is quiet, floating between the two of you. “i just — i wanted you to know.”

it only takes you four simple words to get him to smile again: shy, bright, dazzling, even. almost timid, with the way his cheeks colour — but you get it. it’s new territory, this l word.

but for once, you’re not scared. that might come later; you’ll be surprised if it doesn’t. for now, though, all you feel is golden.

an / this vernon brainrot won’t go away. he’s always there. in my brain.

taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager

VERNON | HIT @ inkigayo 20190811

just thinking about Vernon fingering y/n with his cold metal rings 😵

member | vernon x fem reader word count | 900 warnings | fingering (with rings), temperature play, edging kinda, vernon is very much taking his time and enjoying this notes | vernonrot bad today wowie 😓 also idk why my brain decided this was gonna be blondenon skjdgfhs but i'm not complaining. tagging @aceofvernons hehe enjoy beloved :)

“fuck, nonnie, that’s cold!” you gasp, squirming under your boyfriend’s touch. 

vernon just grins in response. his hands roam your body, your skin erupting with goosebumps everywhere that the ice-cold metal of his rings touches. he drags his fingers up to your breasts, drawing circles around your nipples with his rings as you whine out his name, your nipples hardening from the sudden chill.

it feels like your skin is on fire; the only relief is the cool touches of his fingertips ghosting over your body.

his hand skims over your stomach and instinctively you arch your back, pushing into him. he leans back on his heels, his hands sliding lower and lower as he leaves a trail of soft, light kisses down your chest. 

finally his hands come to a stop at your hips as he holds onto you tighter, moving you into the position he wants you. his rings dig into your skin, but the feeling of the cold metal pressing into you sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

you can’t help but whine in impatience when he lets go of you, returning to tracing his fingers over your thighs, so gentle you can almost barely feel it, if it weren’t for how cold his hands are.

“vernon, please,” you groan, pleading for more.

he doesn’t reply, but he obliges you, fingertips dragging closer and closer to the burning heat between your legs where you so desperately need him.

he plants one hand firmly on your thigh, holding you open as his other hand begins to trace large circles around your pussy, not touching you just yet: so close, but still so far.

you shudder, spreading your legs even wider, trying to encourage him to do what you want.

but he won’t give in just yet.

“what is it you want, baby?” he asks, voice gravelly as he stares down at you, his normally soft brown eyes now darkened with lust.

you throw your head back against the bed. “please, touch me.”

he grins, moving his hands to drag up and down your thighs, his fingernails just barely scratching against the surface of your skin; not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel.

you moan and his hands move to your inner thighs. you consider reaching down and using your own fingers, but the way he’s so carefully building you up is better than anything you could do to yourself, and you know whatever he decides to do to you afterwards is more than worth the wait.

another garbled cry of “please” and finally, finally vernon puts his hand right up against your cunt. a mixture of sighs of relief and groans of pleasure escape you as his fingers delicately part your folds, the sudden cool air on your hole making you shiver.

he pushes the tip of his index finger into you up to his first knuckle and immediately you clench around him, already so sensitive even without anything substantial yet. slowly he pulls his finger out before pushing it back in, going even deeper in you. soon his entire finger is inside you, your walls spasming around the digit as he leisurely begins to curl his finger.

just when you’re starting to adjust to the feeling of his long, thick fingers inside of you, without warning he slips in a second finger, this one covered in rings.

you bite back a moan as you feel the smooth metal press against your folds, your thighs automatically squeezing shut around his arm. but he easily pries them apart again, pushing his weight on one of your legs to hold you into the bed as his hand begins to speed up, working you open with his skilled fingers.

with each movement of his hand his fingers push deeper into you, until you feel him add a third finger, even more rings now rubbing against your folds. the coolness of the metal is an almost soothing feeling against the heat of your pulsing cunt, and the mixture of sensations has you moaning his name without thinking, already so lost in his touch that you can only manage to babble out a stream of moans and curses.

he tilts his hand upwards, his rings aligning perfectly with your clit so you feel each thrust both inside and out, rubbing at the perfect angle that has you trembling in his grasp.

you feel your orgasm starting to approach, building quickly with each drag of his rings against your nerves. but vernon must feel you getting close, must feel you clenching around him harder than before, because right before the tension in your core is about to snap, his fingers slow down their pace, your orgasm falling away in a matter of seconds. you cry out in frustration at the loss, whining and begging and pleading for him to give you relief, to let you finish what he started and make a mess all over his beautiful hands.

but to your dismay he pulls his fingers out of you completely, holding his hand up for you to see how they’re covered in your juices. his rings are smeared with the clear liquid, glistening in the light, and you moan at the sight, embarrassed but also more turned on than you’ve ever been.

vernon grins, leaning forward to run the tip of his finger along your lips, and your mouth falls open, knowing what he wants before he even says it. 

“now, be good and suck them clean, and then i’ll let you cum.”

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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.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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