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#vernon chwe
babyleostuff · 8 hours
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౨ৎ voicemails vernon chwe leaves you while he’s on tour - fluff (with a pinch of angst), established relationship, gn!reader (pet names used: babe)
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...one: hi babe, so we just got to the hotel. the flight was fine, though my back hurts like hell. anyway, talk to you tomorrow!
…two: you know what i just realised? i forgot to pack my underwear. i mean, do you think joshua will notice if i steal some from him? i can just hear your voice saying "i told you so" because i never make those lists before packing
...three: me, you, finding nemo, tonight
...four: why do you always add the most depressing songs to our playlist? i was showering yesterday while listening to it, and it was not fun, let me tell you. no more sad songs
...five: what if i started calling you "bro"? i'll still love you if you were a worm, but in return i get to call you bro. sound like a good deal to me
...six: what's up bro? (pause) okay, no, you were right about yelling at me, it sounds weird. but what are you up to babe? i heard you're meeting up with sofia today?
...seven: i'm so sleep deprived that i fell asleep on stage today during rehearsal. i was literally in the middle of singing when i just (giggle). i really hope no one filmed that
...eight: you know (pause) i'm just chilling in my hotel room, but (pause) it's so quiet here. like (pause) not fun quiet. wish you were here
...nine: i went on a walk with wonwoo and hoshi today, and wonwoo made us pose for the pictures. i'll send you those, but we literally look like children forced by a parent to pose for a pic
...ten: hey, so (pause) i'm just calling to tell you that i love you
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taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings
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vcrnons · 2 months
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i ain't arguing with a man with big brown eyes. whatever u say beautiful.
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linolinoing · 20 days
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caught in 4k 📸
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eoieopda · 7 months
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tidal.
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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.”
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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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lololololchips · 1 month
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COULD U DO BFF!VERNON (may or may not he bffs to lovers 🥺)
vernon is so bff to lovers coded ☹️☹️☹️
BUT HERE IT IS ENJOYYYY:)
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Vernon Chwe || bff to lovers texts with vernon
genre: fake texts, one shot au, fluff, bff x lovers arc, non!idols
warnings: cursing, fem pronouns, tiny angst, vernon being friendzone in the beginning 😓
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bandzboy · 10 months
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fairyhaos · 2 months
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[13:16 PM] — hansol .
hbd @weird-bookworm ! 500 words, est. rs, fluff
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“I wanna make you a flower crown,” you say abruptly, a simple passing comment whilst the two of you are laying on the couch in your apartment.
Hansol blinks, and tilts his head. “A flower crown?” he repeats. “For me?”
“Yeah. Look, aren't they so cute?” you sit up a little, showing Hansol the Instagram reel you were watching of some couple making flower crowns in a field.
He observes the video silently, and then nods. “Huh. Cute.”
You pout at the lukewarm response, settling back down so you're lying in his lap once more. “I think you'd look cute with a flower crown. With you and your… face.”
Without looking up from your phone, you gesture vaguely up at him, and Hansol chuckles a little, shifting so that you're resting comfortably on his thigh. He pats your hair lightly.
“My face, hm?” he says, the teasing clear in his tone, and you groan.
“I take it back. You don't have a face.”
“Uh, what?”
You don't talk about the flower crowns again, the conversation blending seamlessly into a different, random topic, but Hansol still thinks about it.
Of course he does, because it's you who brought it up, and he's always thinking about you. He doesn't know why he's so fixated on the flower crowns, though, because you're always proposing cute things to do with him that never end up happening, but for some reason, he really wants to make the flower crown thing come true.
Mostly because he thinks you'd look rather pretty with a halo of flowers, but also because he knows it would make you happy.
“Hey,” he says, after a few moments where your bright voice doesn't fill the space between you two. “Do you still want to do the flower crowns?”
“Hm?” you glance up at him, thinking for a short second because you'd honestly forgotten that you'd proposed the idea. “Oh! Yeah, I do."
Hansol grins down at you, a lopsided quirk of the lips as he gently adjusts you so that you're sitting up properly. “Yeah?”
He gets up from the sofa, and you watch bewilderedly as he grabs his keys.
“W—Hansol, where are you going?” you ask, rising from the couch as he makes his way to the front door.
“To get you flowers to make flower crowns,” Hansol says, like it's obvious, his eyes so round and sweet that it makes you want to laugh, endeared.
“Really?” you say, smiling. “Wait, are you really?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “It's no biggie. I'll find the nearest flower shop and buy flowers for you. Then you can make all the flower crowns you want.”
That makes you laugh properly, the light, rosy pink feeling welling up inside you and you pad over to peck him quickly on the lips.
“Well, hurry up then,” you say, teasing. “I need to see how good my boyfriend looks in a flower crown.”
Hansol smiles, and leans over to kiss you properly, soft and full of love.
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mangocustard16 · 1 month
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HANSOL VERNON CHWE: THE BOY WHO CANNOT BE MOVED
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seuonji · 3 months
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彡 mr exterminator. — chwe vernon
notes ๑ humour, fluff. you and vernon hate bugs.
warnings ๑ none. mentions of insects?
word count ๑ 0.3k
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"can you kill cockroaches?" you sat up from laying down and looked at vernon intently.
it was as if an arrow shot him as you asked that question and his body jolted making the whole bed shake. he was on the edge of the bed while you were laying down the whole time but you only got up now to ask that?
slowly, vernon reclined to your side and hugged your arm, "is there a cockroach in the room?"
"hey! im afraid of cockroaches you should kill them!" you shook him off you.
"there's a cockroach in the room!?" vernon shouted so loud that your neighbors probably heard.
"no but what if in there future there is one?" you started laughing at the absurdity of your arguement.
"i love you but i also love my sanity," he bravely let out as your jaw dropped to the floor.
"i'm sorry but im not about to try and risk a cockroach crawling up my body!" he continued while holding your hand pitifully but you felt like pushing him off the bed.
"what do you suggest for the future then?" you sighed.
this was the most seirous you've seen vernon in the course of your relationship. he looked at you with intense eye contact and spoke firmly, "we can get a gun."
"god damn, i'll just go date an exterminator," you weakly whispered as you stared at the wall lifelessy.
"you're breaking up with me over a cockroach!?" he pulled you towards him making you laugh.
"yes! so i hope you learn how to cope with bugs,” you giggled but vernon couldn’t tell if you were joking or not.
vernon looked around the room and huffed, “if ever we encounter a bug, i will kill it. for you.”
“you��d do that for me?” you asked stunned with sparkles in your eyes.
“well it sounded like our relationship was on the line,” he furrowed his brows while looking at you weirdly.
your lips slowly crept into a smile and you squeezed vernon’s face in your hands, “you’re the sweetest.”
“yea yea,” he chuckled.
but spoiler, in the near future, he did not keep his promise which lead to you guys almost needing to look for a new apartment unit.
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wonwoodrivethru · 3 months
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seventeen as pokémon :D
s.coups - cherubi
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jeonghan - scorbunny
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joshua - deerling
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jun - meowth
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hoshi - skitty
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wonwoo - meowstic
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woozi - wooper
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minghao - politoed
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mingyu - rockruff
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dk - vulpix
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seungkwan - stufful
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vernon - gastrodon
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dino - oshawott
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ftdino · 10 months
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VERNON VS MINGYU: A TALE OF NOODLES.
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woozi · 10 months
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unreal
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vcrnons · 16 days
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POV: you watched a grown man react to a baby sensory video for five and a half minutes and it fixed every single one your problems.
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reikaryu · 4 months
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hey bae.
could you do a vernon imagine or drabble abt reader not using her glasses or forgetting them and having sore eyes and what not!!!! you can choose why she doesn’t wear them but yeah. i forgot my glasses at school so i’m projecting here.
luv u 🫶
watchful eyes ft. vernon
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pairing : vernon x gen!reader
summary : you’ve forgotten your glasses.
genre : drabble, fluff, established relationship
warning(s) : one swear word, 233 words
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“you’re staring.”
you snap out of your gaze, blinking your eyes rapidly and watching your blurry surroundings slowly come into focus. your eyes find their way to vernon, who’s looking at you with a confused expression yet a tiny smile on his face.
“sorry, uh,” you chuckle, trying to brush it off as a nothing big. “there’s not much I can see since I left my glasses at home. you’re one of the only things I can see clearly.”
vernon’s smile grows, his eyes widening as he nods his head slowly. he tries not to laugh, alas realising your situation and why you haven’t been scribbling down notes as you do every lesson.
you notice his reaction and hit him lightly on the arm. “it’s not funny. I can’t see shit and my eyes hurt,” you complain, gaze falling back onto the teeny-tiny words on the screen all the way at the front of the lecture hall.
“take a nap, then.” you look at vernon like he’s committed a crime right before you. “I mean, you can’t see much of the screen so there’s no point paying attention anymore. besides, I’ll let you copy my notes after school.”
your head collapses onto the table in relief. “you’re a life saver, babe,” your muffled voice tells him. he only reaches a hand out to pat your head twice before going back to his notes.
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hi kae bae sorry this took so long and happy belated birthday of two months 😔
taglist : @i520cm @piakae @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @f3v3rs @wonwoospartyhat @lesdevoeux @wonuulvr @svtcaratlove @amazingly-amazing-loser @ckline35 @enhacolor @woozarts @famouspoetrydinosaur @kokoiinuts @ahnneyong @kawennote09 @jcngh0-hq @marrgohh @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @sun-daddy-yoriichi @beabeanice @bimbo4jotaro @zonked-times
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nishloves · 4 months
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wet-dreams; vernon chwe hansol (svt)
nsfw! drabble // minors dni! // words : 500 approx. // vernon x f!reader // warnings : blowjob, wet dream // unedited.
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you can get a wet dream for anyone— vernon knows that, everyone knows that. so why is vernon so hung up after getting a wet dream about you?
your hands wrapped around his cock as you spare kitten-licks on his shaft, your lips around the base of his cock as you try to inch him deeper into your throat— gagging slightly as a few tears well up on the corner of your eyes.
vernon could swear that it was the filthiest and prettiest visage he has ever imagined... of anyone.
no one has enamoured him like you did, and he has never paid any wet dream such attention— you are his friend, he tries to remind himself but everyday before bed he's reminded of your imaginary whimpers and moans, your skilled hands and hollowed out face as he can't help but groan at the fake memoir.
he's been avoiding you of late and that makes you worried, is he okay? did you do something wrong?
but the poor boy is just too shy to look at your face after he's been jerking himself off every night thinking about you— in hopes of cradling you in his arms and fucking your senses out of you just like he has imagined; imagining your pretty whimpers and moans as you come undone around his cock, your pretty boobs and ass jiggling with every thrust of his.
his breath is shaky when you confront him about his lack of attention towards you— he can just apologise and look away from your face. he knows that you're hurt, but he just can't look at you after he's been so disrespectful towards you in his fantasies. it is a sin that he's imagining his close friend in a compromising state, it's an absurdity whenever he is jealous of all the males talking to you.
he just wants you so so bad and he doesn't know how to say it.
so when you finally gave up on your morals and sanity, too into your sensual pleasure and need as you kiss vernon slowly, stripping yourself bare and getting on your knees in front of him because you find him just as hot as he finds you and because you have had the most ungodly attraction towards him for eternity— it's just like he had imagined. your lips wrapped around his cock as your tongue teases his slit, while he leans down on the sofa, his hands behind his hand as sloppily suck him off; soon your pussy is snug around his dick as you moan out in pleasure, his dick sheathing in and out of you as you grab on the bed sheets, your back arched and body beaded with sweat as you writhe in sensitivity, your nipples hard and yearning for his— and his alone's touch as you chant his name in string.
the man could only grin, he is so looking forward to your upcoming hangouts with him.
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lololololchips · 2 months
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i love love love your text posts!!!! i was wondering if you could do one for vernon? they’re amazing!!
hiiii i’ve done bf texts with vernon before right here but i love this man so much i decided to do a part2🙈🙈🙈
ENJOY!
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Vernon Chwe || boyfriend texts with vernon pt2
genre: one shot texts, fluff, crack, idol!bf
warnings: cursing, kys jokes, fem pronouns, very much crack behavior, a bit of angst (???), jealousy (???)
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