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p5 stuff from twitter (it’s all akechi)
sneaky link || choi seungcheol (18+)
pov: you can't stand the b*tch, but her brother's fine as f*ck.
title: sneaky link
pairing: sneaky link!seungcheol x (f)reader
genre/rating: smut, "enemy's" brother au, 18+
wc: 0.4k
warnings: h*ndjob, implied oral s*x, dirty talk, praise k*nk, spitting, subby!scoups, kissing, c*m eating, public s*x sort of, that should be all
release date: march 29th, 2024; 11:40pm est
note: my first fic here lol. let me know if you like it. idk i may make this a short series so this would be a teaser if i did. divider credit.
read on ao3
"We're gonna get caught,” Seungcheol utters from his trembling lips. He’s shivering with neediness as he hopelessly attempts to keep his cries of pleasure at bay. “Fuck, how do you even do that?"
He’s hot, sweating—a puddle of pure desperation in the palm of your hand. A hand that wraps around his dick like a glove, giving him encouraging strokes to draw out an awaiting orgasm.
He's been whiny, complaining all day about wanting to fuck you.
So, you dragged his ass to the pantry, and pushed him against the nearest wall.
"Shh. Remember, you asked for this,” you remind him.
"B-But, I'm going to come all over the floor if you don't stop...Ah, shit!"
He's babbling, and stuttering all over his words, droplets of tears form in his eyes as he tries to hold back.
"Good for you. You deserve that, baby,” you praise. “You always make me feel good. Now, it's your turn. Let go; make a fucking mess."
You offer words of encouragement within the same breath as your filthy commands.
Spitting on his thick cock, you set a punishing pace, smirking at the lewd sound of wetness squelching between your skins.
"I can’t do that—”
Seungcheol tries to hold it in, and stop himself from releasing his unholy thoughts onto the freshly waxed floor, but you provide him no aid in doing so. You use your other hand to grab his face, forcing him to look at you before you pull him in for a sloppy kiss.
He releases a long and exhausted whine into your mouth as the most intense orgasms he's ever had comes over him. You pull away once he’s able to control the volume of his voice, and watch as the ropes of cum spill onto the floor.
"Good job, baby. That was so sexy; you did so well for me," you whisper in his ear.
His dick twitches as you leave soft kisses down his neck, faintly moaning your name through his bruised lips. He’s spent, but he still has a lot more to give.
"Just take it easy, baby.”
When he realizes you’re dropping to your knees, his eyes widen with disbelief.
“Hey, are you crazy? My sister’s calling me. I gotta go.”
"She’ll be okay. I need to clean up my mess,” you reply, licking the cum from his hardening cock.
His sister’s calls are ignored, and by the time you’re done with Seungcheol…your invitation to dinner will be revoked.
idiosyncrasies and other little things | c.vn
PAIRING | stoner!vernon x afab!reader
CAST | hansol vernon chwe
WC | 5.5k
GENRE | smut, fluff, very slight angst, college!au, friends to lovers, roommates to lovers
WARNINGS | casual marijuana usage (hitting the penjamin and smokin' a j), explicit language, explicit sexual content, miscommunication :( but happy ending :), embarrassing scene where he hugs reader in public
SYNOPSIS | you’ve been friends with vernon chwe ever since you met him at freshman orientation and he slipped you a messily rolled joint behind the tour guide’s back. three and a half years later his rolling skills aren’t the only thing that’s changed for the better, but you begin to realize that your time with him is running out as your graduation date steadily approaches.
A/N | i don’t know who started the stoner!vernon trope but thank you and god bless to whoever it was 🙏 here’s my contribution to the trope—a very american COLLEGE 🦅🇺🇸 stoner vern au. please reblog and consider leaving a few kind words if you enjoyed this fic!! <3
request to be added to current and future taglists HERE!
MASTERLIST | SEVENTEEN MASTERLIST
His fingers are slightly clammy as they brush against yours and drop the small, cylindrical shaped joint in your hand. You enclose your fingers around it as he retracts his hand, his flushed skin brushing against yours once more just momentarily—but it’s enough to make you almost choke on your own breath.
The joint itself is small and messily packed—you can tell from the way it’s already all bent out of shape and dented, simply from him handing it to you. The rolling paper is slightly damp as well—from his sweaty palms, or yours? Likely, both. Regardless, it’s a kind gesture, and you can’t help but flash him a smile as the cheery RA rambles on in front of your entire small group. You can feel yourself drifting away from the scene, everyone’s voices getting drowned out as your gaze locks with his—his eyes are a warm, hazel-y color that reminds you of new leaves sprouting across warm caramel colored branches in the springtime, and you can’t help but stare back at him, your hand squeezing into a fist and further squishing the joint in your hand with a soft crunch.
Crunch.
You open your eyes, and then immediately narrow them at the culprit of the sound, the one that’s responsible for waking you from your dream of the past. It’s no other than the other main character in said dream—your best friend and roommate, Vernon Chwe. He stands at your bedside, shoving bites of cereal into his mouth as he watches you sleep, with a smirk on his face.
“What the hell do you want?” you say, your voice quite bitter and laced with a raspy quality that only occurs in the early moments of your awakening.
“You were saying my name in your sleep,” Vernon says, around a mouthful of cornflakes and granola. Somehow, he wedges a grin in there as well, his mouth full of smugness and off-brand cereal. “I heard you when I was walking by, so I came in.”
You feel your stomach flip—firstly, you weren’t aware that you ever talked in your sleep, and secondly, out of everyone you could’ve been dreaming about, it had to be the one person you currently live with? Trying to be nonchalant, you close your eyes again and turn over so that he can’t see your face, unable to prevent the heat that’s rising to your cheeks as you think about the not so minor crush that you’ve been nursing on your best friend for the past four years. “Yeah, I was dreaming about our freshman orientation. I was saying your name because I remembered how you made me late for class the next day,” you say, walking the fine line between honesty and fibbing.
“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” he says, rolling his eyes. He sets his spoon down in his cereal bowl with a clink. “You’ve only reminded me daily, for the past four years, about how I abandoned you at the dining hall. How was I supposed to know you didn’t know your way to class from there?” he asks, making the same excuse he’s made for the past four years.
“It was the first day of class for us, ever. I didn’t know where anything was,” you retaliate, with the same retort you’ve used in response to Vernon for as long as you can remember.
“Good to know that you feel the same about me in your dreams and real life,” he snorts, turning on his heel to leave your room. His cereal bowl is empty, and he has class in just half an hour—you know this, having lived with him for roughly three years now. His habits haven’t changed much, and disappointingly, neither has your dynamic. After your initial crush on him during your freshman orientation, it fizzled out once you realized he didn’t seem to have any romantic interest in you. However, a hint of a crush remained, despite your best efforts to quench it. Certain things, like the way he had a turtle shaped night light in his dorm room, or the way he looked during finals week when his hair was all messy and hastily stuffed underneath a hood or a beanie, made your heart race no matter how you tried to stop it.
Really, there was just something about Vernon Chwe that your heart—and your mind—couldn’t forget, no matter how much you wanted to.
No matter how close you got to him as a friend, and now as a roommate, a part of you was always hoping for more. Every little touch made your eyes immediately fixate on his expression, to see if he felt anything. Every kind gesture made you wonder if he was just doing something nice for a friend, or if he was doing it for a different reason. After all, he was the sort of person that was just generally nice to everyone, even complete strangers. His inclination of kindness to strangers was sort of the way that you two met—him slipping you a joint in the middle of a lousy speech from an annoying RA about dormitory safety. An unspoken promise to new friendship, and also to meet in the woods behind the dorm building after the horribly optimistic speech ended.
As you ponder this, you consider staying in bed longer, pulling the sheets over your head and trying to fall back asleep, but then you decide against it—it’s not worth running the risk of sleeping through class. Though your first class doesn’t start as early as Vernon’s, it’s not that much later either. Sighing, you get out of bed, rubbing your tired eyes, and start to get ready for the day.
As you brush your teeth, Vernon peeks into your bathroom, as he fixes the sleeve on his denim jacket. You turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.
“We should probably start packing tonight,” he says, as he finally fixes the button on the sleeve of his jacket and looks at you directly, his eyes meeting yours. You look away, feeling your heart starting to thump in your chest, and spit a glob of toothpaste into the sink. You turn on the water, watching it wash the foamy white substance down the drain, as Vernon continues to talk. “We have to move out by next week, but I think we can just start throwing our shit into boxes and call it good. It won’t be that hard.”
Right.
After four years of college—three of which were spent living together—it was time to move on, graduate, and be a real god damn adult. You almost swallow the toothpaste residue in your mouth as Vernon reminds you of this harsh reality. In about a week, you wouldn’t be living with your best friend any more, but instead living at home with your parents until you find a place and job of your own. And with the current state of the job market, you had no clue how long that would take. The thought of living at home again as an adult made you want to rip out your hair, but it was the better option when you considered the other one was to confess your feelings to Vernon and ask him to get a place together, as a couple instead of as friends.
You take a deep breath. Technically, you didn’t have to confess your feelings. But how much longer could you go on like this, living with someone that you’re secretly pining for? It was fine during the on and off crushes you had on him throughout college, but as your senior year progressed, so did your crush on him. Now, it was nearly stifling to pretend you didn’t harbor any romantic feelings towards him, and act like you didn’t care whenever he mentioned some romantic venture or Tinder hookup (though, luckily for you, they were quite sporadic and never turned into anything that serious).
“Yeah, we could start with the shared spaces and start dividing up all the stuff there,” you say, thinking about all of the knick knacks that litter the shelves and walls of your living room and kitchen. You rinse your mouth, and then start to wash your face. Vernon leans against your doorframe, watching you.
“How are we supposed to split up the things that we’ve shared for the past few years?” he asks, watching as you pat your face dry with a towel. “I’d feel bad keeping them, but I’d feel sad if I didn’t get to keep anything, either.”
“We’ll figure it out, now go,” you say, nudging him out of the bathroom. You can feel your emotions threatening to climb up your throat and spill from your lips—he looked so handsome standing there, leaning so casually against your door. His hair, slightly grown out and wavy, was falling into his hazel-y brown eyes as he looked at you. How were you meant to resist that look, especially when he paired it with a subtle pout upon his lips? It made you blush and your mind go fuzzy with adoration. Purely embarrassing—it was like you were a tween girl fawning over her first crush.
“Wait, don’t you want to smoke before we go to class?” he asks, deepening his pout and holding up a joint that he pulled from his pocket.
“Smoke, before we go to class,” you emphasize to clarify, raising an eyebrow. Vernon simply nods, a smile gracing his stupidly handsome face.
“It’s the last week of class, come on. We’re not learning anything new any more,” he says, his voice slightly whiny. You can’t help but feel slightly happy that he wants you to smoke with him so bad—it’s nice to feel wanted by him. “And besides, it’s only a little.” He pinches his thumb and pointer finger together and squints. “Lil’ bit.”
You almost roll your eyes, but catch yourself, and just chuckle instead. You want to cherish these moments, before you move out and all the memories of living with Vernon inevitably pale and then fade away. “Fine,” you say. “Let me finish getting ready for class first, I’ll be right out.”
With a gummy smile that almost makes you physically sick with how adorable it is, Vernon leaves you to finish getting ready.
A few minutes later, you’re pulling a jacket on over your thin shirt—it’s still a little chilly in the mornings—and walking out of your bedroom. Vernon’s standing by the large window in the main room of your apartment—the only one that opens more than a few inches. He’s opened it all the way, and he’s leaning out, enjoying the morning air. He has a slight smile on his face as a breeze rustles his soft brown hair.
Sneaking up behind him, you snatch the joint from his unprepared, loose grip and exclaim in triumph. “Got it!” you sing, grinning as you dance around him. You hold it between your teeth gently as you hold still for a moment to light it, inhaling deeply. You lean out the window next to Vernon, who’s still softly chuckling at your antics, and pass the joint to him as you hold the breath for a moment before exhaling. Coughing, you look over at him. “This tastes kinda strong,” you choke, your eyes watering slightly.
“I had to get out the good stuff for our last week living together,” he says, grinning cheekily. “Have fun in class while being baked out of your mind.”
“Fuck you, man,” you groan, but he just snickers and wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. Your cheeks flush as you feel his lean, muscular body pressed to yours.
“Come on, you know you feel great right now,” he teases lightly, gently squeezing you in a side hug.
Stiffening, you chuckle awkwardly, feeling your heart beating faster. You were afraid he might be able to hear it, but a small part of you almost wanted him to hear it—to know the truth about how he made you feel. That, paired with the weed in your system, made you lean into his touch more, instead of pulling away like you normally would. He grins at this, and reaches up to ruffle your hair gently. He doesn’t say anything else, letting up on the teasing—which you’re grateful for, as it allows you to fully concentrate on the smell of his cologne and the deep, steady thudding of his heartbeat.
You watch as he turns his head away for a moment to take another hit from the joint, his neck muscles flexing beneath his beautiful, smooth skin. The sharp curve of his jawline clenches as he tightens his lips around the joint, inhaling deeply. He looks like some sort of god—how was it possible for a human being to be this ethereal, this close to perfection?
It comes out before you can stop it—before you even fully realize what you’re doing, and surely before you even think about the consequences of it.
“You’re beautiful.”
Your voice is soft and full of adoration—even the most clueless romantic would be able to pick up on it. Immediately, you press your lips together, in fear of more word vomit—or real vomit—escaping.
Vernon stiffens, and then he pulls away as he starts to choke on the deep inhale he’d just taken, clouds of smoke billowing around his face as he leans out the window to try and wave the stench of marijuana outside. Your blood turns to ice as you scramble for an excuse; you’re given a short window of time as he practically hacks up his own lungs and hangs onto the windowsill for dear life.
You flinch as his coughing starts to subside, and you realize you still don’t have anything else to say—no excuse, no explanation—your mind has simply gone blank.
Naturally, you do the first thing that any intoxicated, lovesick person would do in this situation—you run away from it.
You turn on your heel, grabbing your backpack from its place on the coat hooks by the front door, and run out of the apartment that you and Vernon share. You’re not sure if he turned to look at you, if he even saw you running away—you didn’t bother to turn around and break your own heart further.
Even though it’s still an hour before your class starts, you find yourself ambling towards the general direction of the building regardless. Your apartment complex is quite close to your college campus, but it still takes a short while to walk there.
If there was one lucky thing about your abysmal morning, it was the weather. As you start to slow your pace, looking over your shoulder to make sure Vernon isn’t following you or anything, the bright morning sunshine smiles down on you. There’s only a few clouds in the sky, and they’re puffy and white, drifting lazily across the wide blue expanse. Other students are enjoying the sunshine, already out and about in the early morning and sunbathing or throwing a ball around on the field across from the building you’re currently walking to. You almost crack a smile—it reminds you of the first year that you attended school on this campus, when you and Vernon attempted to follow the masses and try to sunbathe on the field, only to end up getting horribly sunburnt in the process. “It’s not even summer yet!” Vernon had protested angrily, as he rubbed aloe into his lobster red skin, sitting on the patchwork rug on the floor of your tiny dorm room. “It’s only the beginning of May!”
You approach your destination with a grim look on your face. No longer are you among the dozens of bright, young faces that are enjoying the sunshine in their best years. Now, you’re facing adulthood—and likely, without your best friend by your side, since you’ve clearly retained your childish insistence upon avoiding your problems and quite literally running away from them. The thought makes your chest ache with longing and regret, so you push the thought from your mind and start to walk up the stairs, almost grateful for the guaranteed to be boring lecture—maybe it’ll take your mind off of things for a bit?
Unfortunately, as you reach the top of the stairs, you see Vernon standing by the front entrance, checking his phone with a worried expression on his face. For a moment, you freeze—this is a chance to correct your wrongdoings, to show your growth and be honest with Vernon, as he deserves.
But it’s just a fleeting thought, and humans are inherently selfish, after all.
So you run away again. Slower this time, simply walking back down the stairs with your heart thudding madly in your chest, hoping that he doesn’t recognize you. Your guilt increases as you realize he’s missing class while he’s waiting for you, and you stop walking, freezing as you cling to the railing of the staircase. He’s your best friend—outside of your romantic feelings for him, whether they’re reciprocated or not, he deserves better. Yet you stand there, your feet stuck to the concrete as you hesitate, even though you know it’s the right thing to do. It’s so difficult to turn around and really face it.
A gentle call of your name unfreezes you, allowing you to turn around and look.
It’s Vernon of course—it always has been, and it always will be.
His brow is furrowed, and as he realizes it is indeed you, he rushes towards you, taking the steps two at a time to get to you faster. Before you can even say anything in return, he engulfs you in a hug, wrapping his arms around you and gently placing a hand on the back of your head to press your face gently into his chest. His smell floods your senses, and tears prick your eyes. If there was some sort of higher being out there, how could they prevent you from having this simple joy in your life? The joy of being able to smell his cologne as he hugged you and pulled you close. There was nothing else that compared.
“Why’d you run?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion, with relief. “I was worried. It’s not like you.”
It is like me, you think, grimly. “I don’t know. I thought you might get angry with me,” you mutter, embarrassment flooding your body as Vernon raises an eyebrow at you.
“What, for calling me beautiful?” he asks, chuckling slightly, nearly in disbelief.
“Not exactly,” you reply hastily, pulling away from the hug. People around you are beginning to look at the two of you as you’re locked in an embrace, and you don’t want to attract any more attention than you already have. It’s humiliating enough for only Vernon to hear your confession, even though it’s meant for him. “For liking you as more than a friend.”
Is there a word to describe the feeling that went through your body as you said those few words? It felt comparable to ice flooding your veins, to a wave of electricity running through your body—yet somehow, more deep and cutting and painful than either of those examples. There simply isn’t any expression or euphemism in the language to explain the horror and fear you felt as you watched Vernon’s eyes widen—so he hadn’t picked up on it, even then? Even after you called him beautiful, and ran away like a lovesick fool? Maybe you’re not the most clueless romantic—he’s the first, and you’re the lucky second.
“You like me?” he asks, dumbfounded. He raises his eyebrows so high that his forehead wrinkles, that you can see the whites of his eyes.
You look at the ground, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the concrete. “Yeah,” you mumble, unsure of how you’re feeling—a complex mixture of shame, relief, fear, and everything in between.
A dreadful silence falls between the two of you, prompting you to look up at him to hopefully understand a smidge of what he’s thinking. He looks gorgeous in the morning sunlight, and he reaches up to scratch his head, his expression simply perplexed. “… Why?” he asks, finally breaking the silence.
You’re surprised—Vernon, ever the predictable, introverted creature, has surprised you for the first time in years. How doesn’t he know? How doesn’t he understand?
You stand there, your tongue feeling swollen in your mouth as you file through your thoughts, desperately trying to encompass your nearly suffocating, complex emotions into words. It’s much harder to do when put on the spot, however, and you stand there spluttering like an idiot as you try to tell him something about the way his jeans fit on his hips and the way he only ever uses Dior Sauvage (a dab on the wrist and then rubbed onto his neck just below the jawline).
“I don’t know how to explain it to you,” you say, frantically, hoping that you won’t scare him away or freak him out. “It’s so many little things about you that made me realize how much I love you, in more ways than just friendship. I think… I think the mere idea of living without you and your nightlight and your stupid granola cereal is horrible. I don’t want to imagine it, let alone live it.” You throw your hands up in the air, feeling helpless, like you don’t know what else to do or say. “Fuck, dude. I just love you. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I just don’t ever want to lose you. I lived so many years without you but I can’t go back to that now. Not when I know what it’s like to be close to you.”
Your voice is soft at the end, as you’re afraid you might start to really cry, and you cross your arms over your chest and look down again, trying to will away the emotions that are surfacing after being bottled up for so long.
“You know I love you too, right?” Vernon says, his voice serious. He reaches forward to gently pull your arms out of the insecure position, and he laces his fingers with yours. “Even if I didn’t feel the same way, you’d still be my best friend.”
Squeezing his hands gently, you feel a million emotions rush through you at once—mainly relief, and then shock as you realize he feels the same way. You look up at him with desperate hope, tears burning your eyes, and find that he has the same expression on his face. He leans in slightly, and your heart skips a beat as you realize what he’s trying to initiate. Breathless, and tired of waiting, you lean forward too and press your lips to his, your heart fluttering as he kisses you back almost immediately, after his initial surprise.
“Does this mean we can both skip class today?” he asks hopefully, mumbling against your lips.
You chuckle, gently swinging your interlocked hands back and forth. “Yes,” you say, unable to resist his charms this time. “Let’s go home.”
Upon returning to your shared apartment, you see the few empty boxes littering the ground; you were both meant to start packing today. However, instead of feeling the deep sense of dread that had been bubbling up inside of you for weeks, you feel peace—you aren’t losing Vernon the day you move out, he was always going to be there for you. Whether that was as a friend, a roommate, or a boyfriend.
He seems to sense your contemplation, and gently presses a kiss to the top of your head. You can sense his hesitation, like he’s unsure if it’s something you’ll allow, and so you pull him into another passionate kiss, gently at first before descending into a mess of teeth and tongue.
He pushes you down onto the couch, as if his desire had been pent up all this time, admiring the view as you stare up at him with wide eyes—you’re surprised at his sudden passion.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, as he leans down to kiss your neck. His hands travel down to the hem of your shirt, but don’t slip underneath, waiting for your reassurance once again. Perhaps, another little thing that you liked about Vernon—his subtle submissiveness; his tendency and instinct to let you guide him. Something that was so rare among men, despite how childish the average one seems to be.
You reach down to gently guide his hands beneath your shirt, and when his hands cup your breasts his breath hitches slightly, as if he’s in disbelief that this is actually happening. He squeezes gently, eliciting a soft sigh from you. Groaning lowly, he pushes up your shirt—the mere feeling isn’t enough, he wants to see all of you as well.
A swift tangle of limbs, and your shirt flutters to the ground, discarded and forgotten about. Vernon’s eyes settle on your cleavage, the way your bra is slightly too tight on you (you’ve been putting off finding out your actual bra size; it’s a hassle) and makes your breasts spill over the cups slightly. His hands actually shake slightly as they raise up to cup your tits again, and he handles them gently, as if he’s afraid handling you too hard might cause you to melt in his hands, as if you were Icarus and he were the sun. You reach back to unclasp your bra, too impatient to let him attempt it, and he gently pulls it off of you, his eyes widening as he exhales deeply, in genuine awe of your body.
He leans forward, his hands sliding down to grab your waist, and presses gentle but sloppy kisses to your collarbone, his lips trailing down to the valley of your breasts. He moans against them, in absolute bliss. “Wanna see more of you… can I see more of you?” he asks, his voice slightly muffled as he keeps his face pressed in your cleavage.
“Greedy,” you tease, reaching up to ruffle his hair playfully, making him exclaim softly in exasperation. But you make it obvious what your answer is, as you reach down to undo the button of your jeans, climbing out of his lap to tug them off of your body. Vernon watches for a moment, mouth slightly agape as his gaze drops to the curve of your hips and the way your panties hug your ass just right, before he realizes that he should probably start taking off his clothes too. Blushing slightly, he hurries to take off his t-shirt, throwing it behind the couch accidentally and deciding that he would deal with it later. His fingers feel frozen and stubborn as he fumbles with his belt, and you have to stifle a giggle at his persistent awkwardness as you lay back on the couch lazily, your fingers skimming the edge of your panties.
Eventually, he gets the buckle undone and shoves his jeans down his legs. Once he straightens back up after stepping out of his pants, you feel a distinct throbbing between your legs as you see the noticeable bulge in his black boxer briefs. He notices your stare, and instead of teasing you, his cheeks flush darker as he kneels between your legs, hovering over you.
“You know it’s been a while since I’ve…” he says, trailing off. He looks away, clearing his throat and pretending like the deep red flush on his cheeks is nonexistent.
“Oh yeah, how could I forget the last Tinder hookup?” you say, chuckling despite the pang of hurt that cuts through your chest at the mere thought of Vernon being with anyone else besides you. “Why do you ask, though?”
Vernon clears his throat again, and you can’t help but let a little giggle slip this time at his demeanor, like he’s trying to impress you a little even though it’s just you. “I just… I wanna be good for you,” he says, his voice slightly whiny and desperate, making your mouth go dry. “I don’t want to disappoint you,” he pushes further, one of his hands sliding down the dip of your waist to grab the curve of your hip, squeezing gently.
“You won’t. You couldn’t,” you manage to say, swallowing hard as you feel heat rising to your cheeks—surely, soon your blush will resemble Vernon’s. “I just want you.”
Upon hearing that, Vernon groans softly, capturing your lips in a hot, messy kiss once more. You feel his tongue pressing against your lower lip, and you allow him entrance, whimpering softly as his free hand comes up to gently caress your jaw and pull you even closer. As if you could get any closer; your bare body pressed to his, your skin nearly melded together in a clash of perspiration and friction as you cling to each other desperately. Your mind is fuzzy with need as you reach down to swiftly pull off your panties, kicking them aside as Vernon follows your lead and pushes down his boxer briefs. Sneaking a glance before he pushes you down gently and positions himself between your legs, you feel a flash of excitement and anticipation as you see his size.
You catch your lower lip between your teeth, biting gently before letting go, exhaling deeply as you feel the blunt head of his cock slicking against your clit, and then against your entrance. He mutters, fuck, under his breath as he feels your silky folds against his tip, and as he presses harder against your tight hole, he looks up at you, catching your eye to make sure you still want this as much as he does. You give a slight nod, your gaze pleading with him to just do it already, and he does—he thrusts forward, pressing his cock into you, making your eyes widen and a high pitched whimper escapes your throat.
“Oh my God,” you say breathlessly, a slight moan edging into your voice as he bottoms out in your pussy, his hips flush against your supple flesh. One of his hands rests faithfully on your waist, just above your hip, while the other wanders up to gently squeeze your breasts. He can feel so much of you, and he wants more—perhaps greedy was the right word to describe him. He doesn’t think that he could ever go back to just being your friend, even if it’s selfish to think as much. Naturally, that’s when you choose to say it. “I love you,” you whisper, this time knowing exactly what you’re saying and not caring about the consequences. Vernon’s greedy heart flutters at your heartfelt declaration of love, and he leans down to kiss you as he starts to thrust into you, his hips smacking against yours as he fucks into you desperately, mercilessly.
“I love you too,” he moans, his grip on your waist tightening. It’s all he can muster out as he pounds into you, his thoughts clouded with pleasure and the absolutely ethereal sight of you, nude before his very eyes, all for his viewing pleasure and no one else’s.
He can feel it, and he knew from the beginning that he wouldn’t last long—which was why he was so concerned about it in the first place. He stifles a whine, and bites his tongue as he moves the hand that’s squeezing your tit down to toy with your clit, eliciting a gasp and a shaky moan from you. His fingers are slightly rough, calloused, and the friction on your sensitive nub makes you throw your head back as you moan with pleasure, feeling your orgasm starting to approach from the combined stimulation. You reach over to grab his arm, trying to steady yourself as you feel the powerful sensation approaching. The sound of skin against skin echoes around the room as he fucks into you more erratically, panting loudly. His fingers on your clit start to slip around from your wetness and his waning stamina, but he steadies himself and bites down on his lower lip, trying to hold out for you, just a little longer.
Your orgasm hits you like a wave, washing over your entire body and making you gasp and shiver. Vernon feels your pussy tightening around his length, his eyes widening as he pulls out quickly, groaning loudly as he spurts thick white ropes of cum onto your thighs and stomach. Breathing heavily, he lays down beside you, rolling onto his back. You both stare up at the ceiling, without saying anything. For a moment, the two of you lay there in near silence, as you catch your breaths and realize what really just happened. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you see Vernon shifting, turning his head to look at you.
You look back. He smiles at you, and you can’t help but return it, giggling at his goofy grin, at his messy hair, at everything. It’s all so perfect—he’s so perfect, in a way that only the two of you will ever understand.
Wordlessly, he reaches over to your coffee table and picks up one of his cartridges, attached to a battery. He hands it to you before taking a hit himself, grinning at you toothily, and you can’t help but grin back as you take the pen from him.
Truly, it’s the little things.
© petrichor-han 2024, all rights reserved
I am doing the equivalent of armwresling in booping with @oopsboof and @kindamaybeprobably and I'm having a blast :D
Thanks to the both of you :D :3
OH
THANK YOU ALL SMMMM!
I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT I WOULD MAKE IT THIS FAR!
I'm all fairness, I do want to thank you all
I have always dreamed of one day sharing my art with the world and each and every one of you is making this possible for me so words can't express how I feel 💕💕💕💕💕💕
I make sure with each art piece I make is (almost) perfect so thank you again for liking what I do!
Okay sappy shit is over
BI
Oh my god there’s a lot of these…
Also, I changed Switzerland’s name after it was brought to my attention. Feel free to correct me, especially with names that aren’t using the Roman alphabet. I’m CPing these names from Wiki ^^;
just felt like doodling n coloring the sillies cuz they are so cute and make me happy and giggle teehee !!
˗ˏˋ STUCK WITH ME ˎˊ˗
┊scaramouche x afab!reader
—synopsis : you can't seem to sleep at night with the feeling of being watched recently, but it must all be in your head, right? until you can't stand to stay awake any longer and finally drift off to sleep…
—warnings : NSFW; stalking; Scara is a perv; breeding kink (?); idk if it can be called dubcon?; just male masturbation😭 that’s all.
It was a shame you changed schools, wasn't it? Do you feel bad? Do you feel like you’re being observed and judged all the time by your new classmates? He’ll always be there for you! Your loved one will take care of you, y/n. He will always kiss your forehead and watch you sleep, he will take photos of you just for him. Just so that nothing happens to you at night (totally just because of that, he swears!)
And who knows, maybe steal one or two of your panties as compensation for it. Then the next day, he'll be admiring you again as if nothing had happened. Nobody will watch you from afar but him. Scaramouche wants so much to go further, he wants to kiss you so bad, he wants to touch you so much, to hear you moan every time he pulls your panties to the side and sticks his tongue in your tight pussy. What would your cum taste like when you finally climax and your hole tightens around his tongue? He wants to feel everything. Soon, he can no longer contain himself.
“Just a little closer…” he said to himself. But his dick was so hard that it was hard to believe.
He climbs on top of your bed when you finally sleep and stares at you for a few seconds, his erection rubbing against the sheets between your legs like he’s in heat from so much excitement.
He could imagine everything he wanted to do with you, just by looking at your angelic face. He can’t help and quickly shove his hands inside his pants, pulling out his cock. He’s been holding back and waiting for you to sleep for quite some time, can you blame him? :((
His movements are slow and hesitant at first, but he eventually finds a rhythm. As he continues, his breathing becomes heavier and his face flushes redder. He just wanted to cum soon and get out of there before you woke up. Such a scaredy-cat!!
He takes out one of your used panties he got from your dirty laundry. The thought of your pussy touching the fabric where his dick was now filled his mind. He would feel satisfied if he could make a mess on the fabric and give it back to you so you could wear your cute panties soiled with his cum. ♡
Of course, he was greedier than that! He wanted nothing more than to strip off your clothes and make you his, but he knew he couldn’t act on these impulses, at least not yet.
His mind went back to one of the days he watched you touch yourself, so inattentive that you forgot to close the curtains sometimes. A habit of yours that he would fix when you were finally together, but one that he would take advantage of in those moments.
He bites his lip and continues to stroke himself, feeling a mix of pleasure and shame as he spreads pre-cum all over his cock, remembering the way you played with the small vibrator. Your fingers moving in and out of your pussy, causing you to moan softly. What would your reaction be if it was his dick instead of your fingers? You on his desk, cock buried deep inside your wet pussy. He felt his climax approaching, his hand moved faster and faster at the point he couldn’t contain the lewd sounds coming out of his mouth anymore.
“Ngh—! You’re mine, and your pretty pussy too- n-nmmgh… gonna cum deep inside… h-hmm- deep inside your womb..”
The sensations were too intense, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He closed his eyes, picturing your face, begging him to cum inside you. With a final thrust of his hips, he came, shooting his load all over his hand and the mattress, his entire body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm while his vision became cloudy and he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He pants heavily, feeling both relieved and ashamed at the same time. As he calmed down, he realized he left a trail of cum on your sheets, evidence of his arousal. But he leaves that aside, cleaning his hand and adjusting his clothes before giving you a delicate kiss on the cheek and leaving through the window. He couldn’t do much about the sheets so he just hopes you shove it aside too.
Maybe he’ll finally gather the courage to confess his feelings to you in person after that?
We should get some sleep
it's 2 am where I am in the US
Omg real, here it's 4 am lol
since we’re in woozi hours… can we get some jihoon hcs? <3
*sigh* i feel like i only know so much about this man but i can give you some. general headcanons.
some little jihoon headcanons ~
he wears his hair half up half down when working in the studio to keep it out of his eyes <3
cannot for the life of him get those baby hairs in the ponytail. EVER.
does not style his hair lol - lets it do it's own thing
gets the ick when his wet hair touches his shoulders
enough about his hair sorry im obsessed
has a habit of winking when he makes eye contact with someone for too long without any words exchanged. always ends up apologizing or laughing and turning red
gets squeamish when talking about intimate subjects
blushes easily ~
only wears rings that mean something to him. his svt ring, obviously. maybe a ring one of the members gifts to him during a holiday or for his birthday. (like how jeongin constantly wears his .. ring. forgot what its called lol)
speaking of his hands - master of fingering sorry had to say it
im obsessed with his hands i'm negl to you
prefers handwriting notes vs taking them on a laptop/phone
has to write down everyones orders if he gets food for the group
i don't know why this just occurred to me for some reason but i think he has issues recognizing people. like. for example he'll be working in the studio and someone'll walk in and he'll go "hey seungcheol" and vernon will stand there like T~T
speaking of vernon, makes fun of his last name LOLOL
despite him not being keen on skinship, grows a habit of kissing his partner's cheek so they do know that he loves them and cares, and wants to show some affection without being too cuddly or touchy
unlike others the first place his blush appears is his ears, not his cheeks
has blushed knuckles after typing/playing piano/etc etc for longer periods of time
wears bracelets because they make him feel fancy
rich rich
genuinely the type to hand his black card over to his partner and let them go ham bc he knows he can pay it off whenever
dunno why i had this thought just now but if you're his fiance specifically??? that's when you really get spoiled with gifts
sugar daddy (tm)
the. type to. drive with. one. hand on the wheel. and. one hand on. your thigh. hau gh . ahh. *quick and heavy breathing ensues*
excuse me while I pass out because I just got drawn by one of my cousins and my mouth is agape.
BITING YOU BITING YOU BITING YOU BITING YOU
@catwenttosleep
There’s like, 7000 scps and who even knows how many tales, there is so much old man yaoi collectively
Dude I thought the SCP foundation was just a list of the monsters and like the 05 and Dr. Bright but apparently there’s like other doctors????? And a lot????? Like enough that there’s old man yaoi
That moment when so many people that your a fan of are following you.
cini-kk why you do this