#vernon dent

[busterkeatonsociety]

#MovieMonday If the shoe fits…Buster Keaton steals the girl in “Tars & Stripes,” 1935, or rather Dorothea Kent insists she is stolen!

[friendlessghoul]

Buster Keaton and Vernon Dent Tars and Stripes - 1930

[vintagedreamsofsennett]

Black Oxfords (1924, Del Lord)

[gurumog]

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (1981) by Douglas Adams BBC Television

Simon Jones as Arthur Dent Richard Vernon as Slartibartfast

[petrichor-han]

idiosyncrasies and other little things; hansol vernon chwe

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

[yuzukult]

untitled teaser | hvc & reader

title: currently untitled pairing: vernon x fem!reader/oc rating: rated m for final fic genre: angst, fluff, smut, wealthy!vernon, unrequited love!au (on both sides, it gets flipped lol... idk it's a confusing one) wc: 10k+ (ongoing) warnings: clubbing, adult themes, oc tries to seduce vernon lol, grinding...... idk just club things a/n: this is what i have been working on instead of actually finishing my own series HAHA i currently don't have a title but if you wanna give me some ideas lemme know ,,,, currently the doc title is "attention"

The burst of blackberry, a tart aroma with hints of bay leaves and cedarwood, has you intoxicated over his cologne alone. His slicked back chestnut brown hair, the calmness he exhibits, and his quiet, mysterious exterior is supposed to make him seem unnoticeable; yet for some reason, he’s always the most attention-grabbing in a room full of people.

Besides his handsome looks, he’s wealthy. The thickness of his bank account doesn’t present itself through his narrow, slim wallet, mostly because he doesn’t showcase the worth of his business unless it’s an obligation. He’s successful, yet remains humble about it; his clothes are made from the luxury brands without it embossed on the outer material, instead the names are stitched inside to keep himself modest. 

His car is the only thing that advertises the amount of digits that his business profits. The fastest, sleekest, and illustrious cars are the ones that he owns—from Corvettes to Teslas to Bentleys—he collects a plethora of them, those three barely denting all the marques, he finds himself indulging in that category and limits it to just that. Fine dining isn’t a necessity, but he does it for ventures required by his company. Expensive hotels and stays are just for comfort, but not something he needs, understanding that it’s more of a want if anything.

Hansol Vernon Chwe is just that guy.

Apart from all of that, Vernon is still an average person—other than the fact that you practically drool over the sight of him and he’s in the 1%. He’s sweet and kind, a general minimum trait that men should have, but he’s also good at overextending himself when people need him to. Last year, he hosted a gala for the Children with Cancer Foundation, earning more than enough donations and then on top of it matching the amount that was donated from others. 

Geez. Even your panties are getting drenched at the thought of him just busting out that fucking power move.

Unfortunately, as much as you boldly put yourself out there, Vernon is unavailable. Emotionally, probably, but mostly because he clearly states that you just… weren’t his type. You’re not a mirror of him; there’s never saccharine words that leave your lips unless it’s to seduce, donating to charities isn’t really on your list of priorities, and to be quite fair, you weren’t much of a charming go-getter as he is either. 

Opposites attract you’d try to justify, but to Vernon, that’s not enough.

Your gripe with Vernon isn’t because he rejected you—it’s that he rejects you but still likes to be… around you. When you’re out on Friday and Saturday nights, your mutual friends lead the group to hang, and when he hears your name included in the list of attendees, he’s there. Even after a long day of dealing with difficult people, you can expect to see Vernon there in his white dress shirt with the first couple buttons unraveled, resting on one of the couches at a table in the VIP lounge, legs parted in his trousers. 

He’s just sitting casually, but he looks like he owns the place.

“You sure you don’t wanna date?” you ask, lips almost brushing against his outer ear as he lets out a soft chuckle and brings his glass of whiskey on ice to his mouth. The music is loud, booming in the speakers of the dim club with strobe lights, making it hard to have any decent conversation but to be honest—who is even trying to talk here when their bodies should be?

“You’re pretty,” he admits, his chocolate swirls of eyes locking with yours. “And—I’m attracted to you. But for dating… you don’t really fit my criteria.” 

Criteria. He says it like he has a checklist for the girl he wants to date. 

Despite constantly hitting on him, you knew your limits for the night. Patting his clothed thigh with your manicured hands, you lean in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Okay, then I’ll leave you for the night. Maybe I’ll try again—but for now, I’m not gonna let today be ruined because Vernon Chwe said ‘no’ to me,” you smirk, pulling down the hem of your dress before standing up. Gesturing to a friend, she excitedly gets up from her seat before shuffling to you. “Let’s go dance!”

Vernon is a liar.

He likes you—a lot. The way you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as if he still can’t see how far your jaw drops when you’re cackling. His favorite view is when you’re just tipsy enough that your hooded eyes become more alluring, cheeks hot from the alcohol, and your words slurring with weighted truths to them. The last time you were drunk, you admitted that you wanted his dick in your mouth. Vulgar but… still honest.

Dating you meant drama—well, dating in general meant drama, and Vernon knows how you are. You’re not labeled a “drama queen” per se, but you are definitely quite the handful. He saw how defensive you got when a random guy at the club turned down your friend Sana because her nose was a little too big; those earrings were unlatched, dropped into Sana’s palms and somehow your shoe was in your hand, ready to swing.

Okay—he concedes. He kind of enjoys seeing you be like that.

Vernon is calm, cool, and collected. With you being the opposite, he’s not sure if being with someone that intense is good for him. You’re not who people expect to stand by his side when he’s at a banquet or when he’s on those business trips—your party lifestyle reminds him of those people who don’t ever settle, live on breaking hearts, and he’s partially afraid he’ll just be another number on your list of another one you’ll hurt. 

Not to mention that he’s not entirely sure that you’re the type of girl his parents would like if they met you.

You’re entertaining, he’ll agree to that, but you're far from someone who could be his more. You’re aggressive, overly outspoken, and worst of all, you do weird things to him.

You’re the cause for his heart stuttering—he almost mistook it for a heart attack—and you’re the reason why he paces back and forth when he accidentally said something that was borderline offensive in the midst of vetoing the chance of ‘us’ yet again, concerned that those harsh words are why you don’t return his texts. Only then, he realizes you’ve napped through the afternoon and didn’t get a chance to check your phone. And even on those really arduous days where his clients tend to be a little more finicky than usual, you still manage to make him laugh and feel the burden lift from his shoulders. How are you able to do those things to him without much of an effort?

Yet, at the same time, you’re also the pounds of stress that replaces the burden. 

Especially at times like these.

There’s a lot of things about you that he likes, but one of the things he doesn’t like is how quick you're on your feet when he turns you down. It barely takes minutes or even seconds after he says ‘you’re not my type’ before you down a couple shots and head to the dance floor with your ass against some other guy’s crotch.

“Oh,” Vernon’s friend, Mingyu, sings in amusement. “She’s dancing with Minghao.”

Vernon furrows his brows. Who the fuck is Minghao? Not all the words that pour in his thoughts spill from his tongue. “Minghao?” 

Mingyu nods, mid sip of his cognac. Cognac isn’t much different from whiskey, as much as people think—the only thing disparate between the two is that cognac derives from grapes and whiskey comes from grains. Vernon just prefers his whiskey over cognac; he can’t actually tell them apart, but he just… favors the one more than the other.

“Yeah, Xu Minghao. Heard he fucks… like well.”

Vernon scoffs. “… He fucks. Like well?”

Mingyu nods, lips pulling into a straight line as he swirls the drink in his hand. The condensation falls, dripping onto the fabric of his jeans but he could care less, especially when his own girlfriend is on the dance floor beside you, who wasn’t Vernon’s own. “Yeah, my girl heard from a couple of her friends that he’s good with his hips.”

With a quirked brow, Vernon licks his teeth. “You sure that it’s not your girlfriend’s experience we’re talking about here?”

Mingyu narrows his gaze. “Don’t play. Just ‘cause the one you’ve been eyeing suddenly captured Minghao’s attention doesn’t mean that you can jab me like that. Least I can commit.”

Puffing up his cheeks, he doesn’t even bother turning to look at Mingyu when he throws his sharp response. Nothing can avert his attention away from you, especially when you’re fixated on Minghao, your hand atop his as his own rests against your hips with your back pressed against his chest. Is this what you’re into? Some guy with blue hair, similar to the label on a Dasani water bottle or marginal Sonic the Hedgehog? 

“I don’t have commitment issues,” he counters through his gritted teeth. When did he clench his jaw so tightly, and why does he feel his fist balling up? You’re not his, after all, and yet he’s acting like you are. 

“Then what are you going to do about it?”

Vernon doesn’t even think. It’s out of character for him—what he often does is plan out his moves before making them. When it came to work or even what he wanted to meal prep for the rest of this week, Vernon always thought things through. Vacation? He’s already got an agenda. Dinner with friends? He’s got reservations at four different restaurants. Just pick one.

But you? You drive him absolutely insane. He can’t predict anything with you, and he doesn’t have a plan on what to do with you. 

Before you know it, he’s on the dance floor—an unfamiliar place for him because Vernon isn’t the type to bust a move even when he’s intoxicated but tonight, he’s a bit offbeat. Maybe he had too much of the whiskey, or maybe he caught some secondhand smoke from the guy taking a puff of a joint but nonetheless, he’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist and tugging you into him.

“What—”

“I don’t like you rubbing up against him.”

Mouth slightly agape, you step back from him. “Okay, and? You're not my boyfriend.”

He sucks in his cheeks irritably. He knew rejecting you would eventually bite him in the ass. “I just don’t like it.”

“You don’t get to tell me what you like and don’t like,” you retort, rolling your eyes before pushing your hair back. “Now if you would excuse me, I’m going back to Minghao.” But before you could get away, Vernon pulls you back. The impact of your cheek against his chest is a harsh one—but not… a bad one.

It… kind of turns you on? 

But you’re not gonna let him know that.

He exhales out a deep breath. “Okay, then fine. Be my girlfriend.”

You choke on your spit. 

“Wh-What?”

ok the end lets hope i finish this one and that it's a banger

[sluttyminghao]

1. I adore you. Thank you for ruining my sanity daily.

2. I see you have small butt big boobs. But as a member of the Itty bitty titty committee and a member of the I can dent a truck with my ass community, I need the opposite. Tiny tatas, big ole butt. Please?

if this is a preference thing for who would prefer tiny titties and a big butt, u got it! (just pls remember anyone reading this it's just my opinion and I could be completely wrong)

i feel like jeonghan, soonyoung, jihoon, minghao, seungkwan and vernon would prefer their partner to have small boobs and a big butt. i feel like they don't care as much about what you've got on the front, and would prefer to have something to squeeze (aka ur ass) in the back. i think they would also enjoy making themselves comfortable by fortifying ur cheeks as a pillow from time to time also

[sgt-tombstone]

immortality anon back with more nonsense! okay so in The Old Guard, whenever a new immortal dies for the first time, the others start dreaming about them also i'm assuming that the healing factor doesn't kick in until you die for the first time (correct me if i'm wrong, maybe you know more about this) what if soap was the first immortal of the group and then started dreaming about a man who was buried "alive" (aka simon gets trapped in an unpleasant cycle of suffocation and resurrection until he gets out of the coffin)

Yes yes yes, everything about this!

Simon Riley has felt extraordinary, immeasurable pain in his life, from his father, from the military, from Roba, but it is nothing like the pain of being buried alive. His lungs ache, both from screaming and, later, from holding his breath, trying to conserve as much oxygen as possible once he’d realized that no one could hear him. His muscles scream in protest as he pushes against the metal nails of the coffin and six feet of sandy dirt on top of him. His fingernails and fingertips are raw and bloody, worn down to the bone in some places, and yet… the wood is still intact. He hasn’t even made a dent.

The jawbone that he finds helps, as long as he refuses to think about where it came from, who it belonged to, what he’s laying on, and finally, finally the wood starts to splinter.

It’s not enough. He suffocates seventeen minutes later.

And then he wakes up, jawbone still in hand, his lungs aching for a breath he can’t take, and he starts where he left off. It must be a nightmare, a delusion gifted to him by his quickly fading mind. He needs air, needs freedom, needs a blue sky above him and a breeze against his skin. He has to keep going, no matter how many times he nods off or falls unconscious.

In the comics, it takes him thirteen hours to differentiate himself out of Vernon’s coffin. I wonder how long it would’ve taken if he’d been stuck in a torturous cycle of death and rebirth, his muscles getting increasingly weaker each time, the lack of oxygen shortening his life with every round. Days, perhaps, or weeks. Long enough for Johnny to find where he’d been buried, to be waiting for him when he emerges from the dirt, lungs straining and eyes hazy, questions on the tip of his tongue, and Johnny has answers (Simon doesn’t necessarily like the answers, but they’re answers all the same)

Anyway, the part about all of this that I’m most intrigued about is the dreams themselves, because they’re not just of what the new immortal is going through right now, they’re flashes of details of the new immortal’s life leading up to their death. Which begs the question: what would Johnny see in his dreams about Simon, and what would stop him from storming Roba’s compound then and there?

[aithusarosekiller]

You can guarantee that Lily never mentioned her partners' wealth to her family because it literally doesn't matter, they love each other as people and do as much good with the Potter and Black fortunes as they can all without bragging (like decent fucking people)

So when she took them to meet Petunia and Vernon and Vernon started bragging about how comfortable their life was and how wealthy and upper-middle class they were they all looked disgusted because Lily was grossed out at how entitled he was, James wondered if he sounded like that too, and Reg was honestly just reminded of his parents the whole time

Vernon takes that look as them being poorer than him and makes some sly comment about wizards not being dignified enough for wealth and financial understanding

So you've then just got James 'donates 1000 galleons to magical creature rescue centres each month' and Regulus 'could buy the entirety of Europe without making a dent in his gringotts vault' staring at him like '😐ew' but not saying anything

And Lily is equally disgusted at Vernon for being classist and proud of her husbands for not snapping back and turning it into a dick measuring content like she used to think they would

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

The Act of Healing

It didn’t take long to realize that it wasn’t normal—that Harry wasn’t normal. That no one else could see the strange lights and dented auras that surrounded everyone. Harry had learned at an early age to hide it, to tell no one else about it. It worked. At least until he encountered a boy in a robe shop with the largest light he’d ever seen.

But what did it mean?

Preview:

When Harry walked into the robe shop—after Hagrid told him he would be back for him later—he froze at the sight of a boy his age getting measured for a set of school robes. It wasn’t the boy’s appearance that drew his attention, no, it was his light. The light was the biggest one he had ever seen, so bright that Harry had a hard time looking at him. Where Uncle Vernon had scratches, this boy had gouges. Where some people had dents, this boy had holes and craters. “Hello,” the boy greeted him softly. “Hogwarts too?”

AO3

[docgold13]

Batman: The Animated Series - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Rupert Thorne

A powerful and ruthless crime boss, Rupert Thorne muscled his way into the Gotham City and swiftly took control over a large section of the criminal underworld.  Edging out former kingpins, Arnold Stromwell and Salvatore Valestra, Thorne’s enterprises ranged from narcotics to racketeering, money laundering, gambling and weapons smuggling.  Although his criminal endeavors were well known to the public, the corruption within Gotham's justice system kept Thorne in his penthouse and the authorities off his back.

District Attorney Harvey Dent was determined to put an end to Thorne’s grip on the city.  Dent’s dogged pursuit of Thorne became even more relentless as he was campaigning for reelection as District Attorney.  Dent was getting close and Thorne became desperate to put a stop to it.  

Thorne attempted to blackmail Dent after his agent had pilfered the medical notes from Dent’s psychiatrist.  Dent was contending with rather severe psychological difficulties and Thorne threatened to expose this to the public unless Dent agreed to drop all investigations into his enterprises.  Dent refused and a scuffle broke out wherein Dent was caught in an explosion that terribly scared half of his face.  All this resulted in the creation of the villainous Two-Face.  And Two-Face would prove an even greater threat to Rupert Thorne than Dent had ever been.   

A new breed of criminal was encroaching on Thorne’s territory.  Villains like Two-Face, The Penguin and The Joker were substantially cutting into his profit margins and The Batman was a near constant threat to his whole organization.  Determined to wrestle back control, Thorne hired the mercenary known as Bane to break the Bat and ostensively reseat Thorne atop the criminal empire.  

The plot failed, Batman triumphed over Bane and Thorne’s hold on power became even more tenuous.  In desperate need of cash, Thorne agreed to pool resources with The Penguin and the mob enforcer Carlton Duquesne in a venture to sell high tech weapons to the war-torn nation of Kasnia.  

The operation was taken down by Batman along with the mysterious new heroine, Batwoman.  Duquesne was convinced to testify against Thorne and the once untouchable gangster was sentenced to life in prison at Stonegate Penitentiary.   

The wonderfully intimidating John Vernon provided the voice for Rupert Thorne, with mobster first appeared in the sixth episode of the first season of Batman: The Animated Series, ‘It’s Never Too Late.’  

[hansolmates]

the leak | 03

banner by @theluttleprince

summary; hansol vernon chwe is crying at his doorstep like a taylor swift music video, and you’re for some reason there to help  pairing; hvc / reader (f) genre/warnings; neighbors to friends, friends to lovers!au, slice of life, fluff, angst, tw—cheating, mentions of pregnancy related to cheating, profanity w/c; 1k a/n; i dont know how i feel about the added *issue* in the story—a very handsome issue, but here u go! [masterpost]

You’re now acutely aware of the fact that there is another living, breathing body behind the walls of your apartment. 

You really took for granted the fact that your neighbors were quiet (which in fact, were not neighbors at all because it’s been empty for the past year) because now you feel nothing but self conscious as you pad around your home. 

If it was any other neighbor, sure, you’d be dandy! However, it’s Vernon, and because you had a teeny tiny noncommittal attraction to him in college, it’s manifested into full blown self-consciousness. You really just can’t get over yourself. 

Lo-fi hip hop blends through the walls, invading your space as you absentmindedly stir the fresh pasta you bought on sale at the market. It isn’t your music, it’s Vernon’s, muffled by the wall that connects your kitchen. 

This hyper awareness is killing you. You haven’t spoken to him since that morning when your sleep was interrupted by his rush to move in, simply because you wanted to give him space. It’s been a week and you feel like your space is closing in on you. 

You know you want to talk to him, that little pesky voice in your head sings, you want to ask if he’s okay. 

“Ugh!” you tap your wooden spoon against your nonstick pan, flicking the water away. Your eyes float over to your simmering sauce on the stove, a cream sauce with a little squeeze of tomato paste. It’s almost done thickening. 

Distracting yourself from your neighbor with the pretty brown eyes, you grab your phone, scrolling through your missed messages. 

[3:08] Jihoon: hows the leak? 

[4:02] You: still dripping

[4:11] Jihoon: I can come over tonight and fix it

With a snort, you grab the tongs and start scooping the al dente pasta from the boiling pot into the simmering sauce. 

However, your sink is perfectly fine. That's because Jihoon is an efficient landlord.

(The only thing dripping is you, and you’re the only leak he’s planning to fix tonight.)

Haha, ha. You could cringe at how silly this whole situation is. 

If you told yourself ten years ago you’d be hooking up with your landlord, you’d laugh yourself to death. Lo and behold here you are, having a casual fling with your grumpy yet unfairly skilled landlord. 

To be fair, your sink was leaking the first time! Whether or not it was on purpose so that Jihoon could come see you, is a secret Jihoon refuses to tell. 

He is pretty, yet masculine. There’s something feline about his gaze, the way his skill in both the bed and his practice intrigues you and mollifies you to his command. Like that one time last week when he did that thing with his fingers—

“Fuck me,” you curse yourself, plating your completed pasta. After emulsifying your sauce with the perfect amount of pasta water, you occupy yourself with dinner. 

Jihoon is a good distraction, but not as intrusive as—

“Ow!” Vernon’s muffled voice echoes the wall between you, and you wince at the pain that lines his voice. Did he just drop a barbell? Does he lift? 

Belatedly realizing you cooked too much pasta to fit on one plate, you grab another ceramic plate a second scoop of pappardelle. 

Blowing at your stray hairs, the question stabs you in the brain: invite Jihoon to dinner, and have everything work out as it always does? 

Or—or? 

Five minutes later and a very demanding pep talk from your conscience, you have a plastic wrapped plate of pasta and you’re waiting for Vernon to answer his door. 

After a few seconds of hearing shuffling and more things falling to the ground, your new neighbor finally flings the door open. “Oh, hi!” His face is rapidly changing, going from surprised, to confused, and then a big D-mouthed smile when he notices what you’re holding in your hand. 

You’ve seen that Youtube Shorts girl who exchanges meals with her neighbors, and you wonder if she feels just as awkward as you do. 

“Hi,” you breathe out, “did you eat dinner?” 

You couldn’t even let out a “how are you?” because you wanted to cut right to the chase. Say yes and eat, or say no and you can ask Jihoon if you can move to the bottom floor. 

You squirm under his gaze, your bare feet feeling cool on the bare tile and your fingers hot due to the plate being under the stove just minutes before. He’s looking unbearably soft, his caramel hair bouncy and his grey sweat suit big and bubbly around his frame.

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’, eyes still clinging to your hands, “did you?” 

“Oh, no. I just finished making this,” you proffer the plate up higher to meet his eyes, “and was wondering if you wanted some.” 

Instead of taking the plate and saying thank you, he replies, “you love pink, don’t you?” 

“Huh?” 

“My Melody clock, pink Crocs, and now pink sauce,” he bobs his head back and forth, “unless that’s just a coincidence.” 

“Oh, well—”

“I bet if I come into your apartment right now, the pan you used to cook this pasta is pink.” 

You huff, and if you weren’t holding the plate you’d be crossing your arms. Who knew he could be so cheeky? When you don’t answer right away he says, “I’m right, am I?” 

It’s mauve, actually. Instead, you retort, “I guess there’s only one way to find out?” 

Vernon’s irises soften, and you wonder how long it’s been since he’s eaten a meal with somebody. Taking the plate you’ve made out of your hands, he reaches a palm out to hold open your door, “Thanks.” 

Letting yourself in, you watch as he steps into your apartment gingerly. He gets a really good look at it this time, compared to last week when he was only concerned about getting out of a bad relationship. His eyes float over your walls, probably looking for all the pink things in your apartment. 

He sets himself at your table, and before you sit down next to him, you send out a quick text. 

[5:06] You: raincheck, i have a friend over for dinner tonight

[jar-of-something-else]

Ectoplasm's Kinktober Prompt List 2023

Just a disclaimer: I AM TURNING 18 IN OCTOBER!!! If you are under 18, please don't interact with my posts on this blog! My main blog, @jar-of-ectoplasm, is the place for you to freely interact with everything! If you are a minor and have your age in your bio, I will ask you to please not follow this account; thank you for understanding!!

Everything will be under the cut, certain prompts I haven't assigned characters to yet but you guys are free to request certain characters for certain prompts and I'll take those into account!!

I will be doing this in the form of headcanons, with two characters per prompt (with some exceptions)! Any day with an asterisk (* <this thing for those who don't know) i need characters for!

I'm pulling inspiration from several different prompt lists, but this is is an original list!

I am going to try to do everyday of this, but please don't be surprised if I don't, I have a lot of stuff going on in October this year!

Prompts and characters are under the cut!

Day 1: Threesome w/ Coop and Remer from BASEketball and Sniper and Scout from Team Fortress 2

Day 2: Medical/Lab kink w/ Medic from Team Fortress 2 and Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow) from Batman

*Day 3: Mirror sex w/ Illuso from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure and a requested character!

Day 4: Accent kink w/ Tex Sawyer from Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3 and Sniper from Team Fortress 2

Day 5: Strap-on w/ Ms. Pauling and Zhanna from Team Fortress 2

Day 6: Temperature play w/ Ghiaccio from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, Pyro from Team Fortress 2, and Victor Fries (Mr. Freeze) from Batman

Day 7: Sensory Deprivation w/ Demoman from Team Fortress 2 and Edward Nygma (The Riddler) from Batman

Day 8: Fearplay w/ Billy Loomis from Scream and Leslie Vernon from Behind the Mask

Day 9: Language kink w/ Spy from Team Fortress 2 and Eduardo Dorrance (Bane) from Batman

*Day 10: Bloodplay w/ Risotto Nero from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure and Sniper from Team Fortress 2 (but he's crazy!!)

Day 11: Size kink w/ Heavy from Team Fortress 2 and Formaggio from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

Day 12: Work sex w/ Egon Spengler, Ray Stanz, Peter Venkman, Winston Zeddemore and Janine Melnitz from The Ghostbusters

*Day 13: Sex pollen w/ Pamela Isley (Poison Ivy) from Batman and a requested character!

Day 14: Body worship w/ Vincent Sinclair from House of Wax and Melone from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

Day 15: Degradation w/ Harvey Dent (Two Face) from Batman and Herbert West from Re-Animator

Day 16: Professor/Student (PURELY CONSENSUAL, BOTH PARTIES 18+) w/ Egon Spengler from Ghostbusters and Engineer from Team Fortress 2

Day 17: Dirty talk w/ Prosciutto from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure and Stu Macher from Scream

Day 18: Dumbification w/ Bo Sinclair from House of Wax and Sellout!Remer from BASEketball

Day 19: Praise kink w/ Ray Stanz from The Ghostbusters, Coop from BASEketball, and Engineer from Team Fortress 2

Day 20: Volume control w/ Harleen Quinzel (Harley Quinn) from Batman and Spy from Team Fortress 2

Day 21: Public sex w/ Randy Meeks from Scream and Scout from Team Fortress 2

Day 22: Face sitting w/ Melone from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure and Peter Venkman from The Ghostbusters

Day 23: Hypnosis w/ Jervis Tetch (The Mad Hatter) and Dennis Prowell (The Music Meister) from Batman

Day 24: Mask kink w/ Adrian Chase (Vigilante) from Peacemaker and Pyro from Team Fortress 2

*Day 25: Predator/Prey w/ Tex Sawyer from Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3 and a requested character!

Day 26: Teasing w/ Remer from BASEketball and Leslie Vernon from Behind the Mask

Day 27: Manhandling w/ Chris Smith (Peacemaker) from Peacemaker/The Suicide Squad and Soldier from Team Fortress 2

Day 28: Passionate/Loving sex w/ Winston Zeddemore from Ghostbusters and Abner Krill from The Suicide Squad

*Day 29: Food play w/ Engineer from Team Fortress 2 and a requested character!

Day 30: Lingerie w/ Melone from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure and Ms. Pauling from Team Fortress 2

*Day 31: Costume sex w/ Selina Kyle (Catwoman) from Batman and a requested character!

[letsjuststoprightthere]

[POEM] PROFANE by Ashe Vernon

- translated in french; for my once-lover

The first time he calls you holy,

La première fois qu'il te dit saint(e),

you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.

tu ris si fort que tes côtes te font mal.

The second time,

La seconde fois,

you moan gospel around his fingers

tu gémis du gospel autour de ses doigts

between your teeth.

entre tes dents.

He has always surprised

Il t'as toujours surpris(e)

you into surprising yourself.

en te faisant te surprendre toi-même.

Because he’s an angel hiding his halo

Car il est un ange cachant son auréole

behind his back and

derrière son dos et

nothing has ever felt so filthy

rien n'a jamais été aussi sale

as plucking the wings from his shoulders—

que cueillir les ailes de ses épaules—

undressing his softness

déshabiller sa douceur

one feather at a time.

une plume à la fois.

God, if you’re out there,

Dieu, si tu es là,

if you’re listening,

si tu écoutes,

he fucks like a seraphim,

il baise comme un séraphin,

and there’s no part of scripture

et il n'y a aucune écriture

that ever prepared you for his hands.

qui t'ai jamais préparé à ses mains.

Hands that map a communion

Des mains qui dessinent une communion

in the cradle of your hips.

dans le berceau de tes hanches.

Hands that kiss hymns up your sides.

Des mains qui embrassent des hymnes sur tes côtes.

He confesses how long he’s looked

Il confesse combien de temps il a cherché

for a place to worship and,

un endroit pour vénérer et,

oh,

oh,

you put him on his knees.

tu le mets à genoux.

When he sinks to the floor and moans

Quand il glisse au sol et gémis

like he can’t help himself,

comme si il ne pouvait s'en empêcher,

you wonder if the other angels

tu te demandes si les autres anges

fell so sweet.

sont tombé si doucement.

He says his prayers between your thighs

Il dit ses prières entre tes cuisses

and you dig your heels into the base of his spine

et tu enfonce tes chevilles à la base de son dos

until he blushes the color of your filthy tongue.

jusqu'à ce qu'il rougisse de la couleur de ta langue sale.

You will ruin him and he will thank you;

Tu le détruira et il te remerciera;

he will say please.

il dira s'il te plaît.

No damnation ever looked as cozy as this,

Aucune damnation n'a jamais eu l'air aussi comfortable que cela,

but you fit over his hips like they

mais tu tiens sur ses hanches comme si elles

were made for you.

étaient faites pour toi.

You fit, you fit, you fit.

Tu tiens, tu tiens, tu tiens.

On top of him, you are an ancient god

Au dessus de lui, tu es un ancien dieu

that only he remembers and he

dont il est le seul à se souvenir et il

offers up his skin.

t'offre sa peau.

And you take it.

Et tu la prends.

Who knew sacrifice was so profane?

Qui aurait su qu'un sacrifice était si profane?

And once you’ve taught him how to hold

Et quand tu lui auras appris comment tenir

your throat in one hand

ta gorge dans une main

and your heart in the other,

et ton cœur dans l'autre,

you will have forgotten every other word,

tu auras oublié tous les autres mots,

except his name.

excepté son nom.

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Mommytober Series 2022-Day 7

Clothed Sex w Mommy!Hyunjin (Stray Kids)

Dom!Hyunjin X Sub!Fem Reader

Content Includes: Bathroom sex, reader calls Hyunjin 'Mommy', jealous Hyunjin, very little foreplay, mirror sex, humiliation, praise, quickies, exhibitionism, idol AU

18+ Only

This is pure filth and does not portray an accurate representation of the stated Kpop idol.

'If you move your eyes from the mirror, then Mommy won't let you cum'.

Hyunjin's eyes had been scanning all over body the entire time you've been at this event.

The public dating ban for Hyunjin had been lifted and this was Hyunjin's first official premiere with you as his partner and obviously, you were the entire talk of the ball.

Your dress tailored in all the right places and you wore it with a cranberry lip, nude heels and a pearl necklace.

You were the biggest name on everyone's lips and everyone was talking about you and you loved it, you loved the attention.

And you know else noticed that you were the gorgeous prize other celebrities were wanting to claim?

Hyunjin.

And that's how you ended up with your elbows propped on the marble sink, trying not to slip with your heels on as Hyunjin thrusts into you with a relentless pace.

Hyunjin's black velvet jacket was slung carelessly across the bathroom ledge, black silk shirt pulled up to the elbows, tailored pants pulled down just enough to free his dripping cock and his styled middle-parted hair pushed behind his ears.

'Do you like it? Do you like making Mommy mad?'

Hyunjin's hands were gripped onto your hips, fingernails denting in as he plowed into you. He hadn't even pulled your underwear down, they were now pushed to the side and provided the perfect friction as your pubic bone was repeatedly slammed into the edge of the counter.

'No Mommy, I' *ahh* 'just' *mmh* 'want to be' *hah* 'good for you' You stared at yourself in the mirror, a sheen of sweat adding to the highlighter on your cheekbones, a flushed look on your cheeks.

You looked gorgeous and fucked out of your mind.

That thought was lost when Hyunjin's cock pressed right into your g-spot as you bit the bottom of your lip to try and hide the cries of pleasure erupting from your mouth, the lipstick starting to smear near the cupid's bow.

Hyunjin pulled you up against his chest, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other moved to harshly rub circles across your clit, your legs were shaking, feet gripped onto the sole of the heel so you wouldn't slip.

'Mommy! Please Mommy let me cum!' you whined into the mirror, Hyunjin's frenzied gaze locking eyes with you through the glass.

Hyunjin chucked at the sound of your pleas and pressed his hand onto the swell of your stomach, pushing onto his cock further and feeling him thrust into you deeper.

'That's right poppet, let everyone know who you call Mommy' He grunted into your ear, you were so close and with a few harsh circles rubbed onto your clit, you smothered your face into Hyunjin's neck as you came, your cranberry lipstick smeared on his neck.

Hyunjin quickly pulled out of you and fisted himself three times before you felt his cum smear on your thighs.

You stayed silent for a couple of moments both panting and staring at each other through the mirror before you let out a breathy laugh at the thought of just having Hyunjin blow your back out in a public bathroom.

'You okay poppet?'

Hyunjin's voice softened, grabbing some toilet paper to wipe the cum away and pulled your panties back in place.

'Yeah' you turned to face him and adjust your dress so you looked respectable again.

You noticed the lipstick marks on his neck as your arms laced around his neck, you looked up at him with a smirk on your face.

'Are you going to go back out there with your neck like that?'

Taglist: @reighlee-greaves @honeyhotteoks @hongthoven @iliana26 @mischiefsmind @vernon-s-whore @hipster-shiz @ateezreactionsandscenarios @seungminluv3 @creativechaoticloner @chvnssecret @chvnnie @monstaxdirtywonk @destiny-fics

[roukabi]

Hee hee! hee hee ho! My grubby furry hands will contaminate everything you love!

(Designs are free to use with credit, if anyone’s interested!)

Exhaustive design notes/trivia/extras are under the cut!

[Image IDs: a series of animal designs for Vide Noir’s characters. Buck Vernon is a sand-colored whitetail deer (how creative) with dented antlers, a brown-and-white striped bandanna, and a guitar slung around his back. Lee Green is a peach-and-cream fox with a white lily above her ear. Frankie Lou is a clouded leopard with a wavy black ‘mane’ of sorts. Jasper and Hontanx are mutts; Jasper is slender and mostly grey with brown dorsal coloring while Hontanx is more boxer-like with short, white fur and grey patches. Johnnie is a german shepherd mix, with half of his face scarred by black-braining, and sports a red bandanna on his leg and a leather World Enders jacket. Moonbeam is a black lop-eared rabbit with lavender undertones, also wearing the World Enders jacket. Alex is a doberman with slicked-back hair, also (also) with a World Enders jacket and much smaller black scar on his cheek. Toby is a very scruffy rufous treepie (don’t ask), mostly tan with a black head and wings with white accents. Finally, Z’Oiseau is a melanistic Bengal tiger, where his stripes are large and take up the majority of his fur. The final image is a lineup of all characters, with heights considered. Each design is still sketchy, and construction lines can be seen. The artist’s signature overlaps each image. End IDs.]

Well, well, well. It appears I’m at the stage of obsession where I make furry designs for the characters. Because I’m always paranoid that I need to explain myself for everything I do, here’s the comprehensive guide to each design. If I’ve done a good enough job, you can tell who’s who pretty easily. 

Buck: Hmm, now how did he end up as a deer, I wonder...? 

Silliness aside, Buck’s antlers actually play a pretty big role in representing his psyche/self-esteem, as they break off in certain scenes until the end, where they become shattered stumps. Jasper breaks + steals one antler when Buck gets black-brained, which I’m sure can be used as a metaphor for something.

He’s also got big ol’ floppy ears. When I make animal designs, I try to mimic the form of someone’s hair via the ears or cheek fur, though, as you’ll soon see with Frankie, that’s not a hard-and-fast rule. You’ll also notice that he wears a bandanna, even though he doesn’t in the film. This is because I felt his design lacked color. And bandannas are cool. And my brain is addled with Hadestown parallels. 

“But Rook!” I hear you say, “If Buck’s a deer, how can he play guitar? And how is he supposed to hold a gun?” Well, the answer to the first question is that he plays with his teeth. Obviously. And the obvious conclusion to the second question is that he doesn’t need artillery when he has a crown of stabby stabby bone.

Lee: Lee is a fox - outwardly desireable and a character of multiple folktales. There’s not much to say about her design otherwise, except for the addition of a lily - referencing ‘Fool For Love’ with “I’m asking Lily to be my bride” as well as ‘La Belle Fleur Sauvage’. Oh yeah, and she’s way too big compared to the other characters in the height chart lmao pretend she’s the average fox size 

Lee fascinates me, and I think I’m the only one who thinks that way lol. It’s revealed at the end that she had Way more agency over her situation than everyone realized. Did she know about Z’Oiseau’s kill count before getting with him? Does she know now? AFWP says that she overcame the Vide Noir addiction, how did that go? Did severing herself from the drug sever connections to Z’Oiseau’s empire? What does she actually think of him? What are her songs like? Is she okay? Does she regret anything? Is she the same Lee who’s known as Lee Avery in the World Ender MV? AAAAAAAAAAAA

Frankie Lou: Picking the animal was easy, designing her was not. Clouded leopards are native to Cambodia, and I wanted Frankie and Z’Oiseau’s designs to complement each other in some way (I’d made Z’Oiseau’s design before I made Frankie’s). So there’s a spotty kitty and a stripey kitty. Clouded leopards are also insanely elusive, which adds to Frankie’s mysterious ghost facade in the film. 

I normally don’t like adding ‘human’ hair to animals, but when I initially made Frankie without her hair, it really felt like something was missing. I like the way it looks now, and her plumed tail ties it together. The spots are not end-all-be-all, and can be simplified for animation.

Jasper and Hontanx: What better to chase after our Arthurian White Stag (Buck) and Teumessian Fox (Lee) than a pair of hunting dogs? Jasper and Hontanx needed to complement each other in the classic “Big Guy, Little Guy” trope, with the ‘little guy’ (Jasper) being tall, slender, and shrewd, while the “big guy” (Hontanx) is muscular and rarely speaks. Their names even follow the Kiki-Bouba effect. 

I thought about making Hontanx fluffier, but the boxer look fits well, too. There’s some patches of longer fur around his neck and shoulders.

Johnnie: Everyone’s favorite little hurricane! Johnnie gives me exciteable puppydog vibes, so I made him a German Shepherd mix (mix, being “something fluffy”). His cheek fur is missing on his black-brained side, and his eye is a little messed up, but here’s what he looks like when he’s a-okay:

Moonbeam: Rabbits are associated with the moon in multiple mythologies, so it’d make sense to make Moonbeam one. I haven’t drawn her in her fortune teller gear, but I think she’s happier to don the World Enders jacket instead. She’s also got some purple undertones for flavor, and they make her stand out as the only design with a cool color pallete. She’s just got that transfemme swag, I suppose.

Alex: For a character who only appears for 2 seconds, Alex seems to have made a permanent impression on Vide Noir fans, including myself. Strong, tall, and effortlessly cool, I wanted him to look like a model World Ender. This mayyyy have resulted in him looking nothing like his younger brother, but maybe one takes more after their father, and the other, their mother. Idk. I have this whole backstory thing with Cobb where the Redmaynes have this godawful father that Cobb helps them... get rid of. Because Cobb is the better dad.

Alex is the last of this bunch to be a canine, which I’m sure you’re all glad to hear. I don’t know why there are so many dogs. They just have that rugged look to them that suits the World Ender/Bounty Hunter style. Well, these ones do, anyway. Not Lee.

Toby: Toby was by far the most aggravating to design, and it’s pretty apparent in the final result. I mean, have you heard of a rufous treepie? 

I had no idea what I wanted Toby to be, but I wasn’t about to draw another canine. As Z’Oiseau’s nephew, he’d be associated with birds by default, so I started thinking about the kind of bird Toby could fit - it’d have to be territorial, annoying, and/or aggressive.

 Like... blue jays?

 While blue is not a color I’d associate with Toby, for whatever reason, I was getting somewhere. Blue jays are a part of the family Corvidae. Corvidae has birds that are black. Blackbird = Z’Oiseau! See? There’s a connection! 

I scrolled down through Wikipedia’s corvid list until I came across the Rufous Treepie, a bird not only described as ‘opportunistic’, but ironically has a symbiotic relationship with local deer populations... It’s also large enough to get stabbed by an antler from a certain less-willing-to-cooperate deer. 

So that’s what I went with. Toby’s meant to look more like a fledgling, given the scruffiness. I took some creative liberties with facial markings, but like. Who cares. 

“But Rook,” you say, “If Toby’s a bird, and Z’Oiseau isn’t, how are they related?” Well, the obvious conclusion to come to here is that you should stop asking questions.

Z’Oiseau: It’s Zazo time! With a name like 'bird’, you’d expect him to be a bird. But I figured that making him a big cat would play very well into the irony of his name and would present him as a real threat. After all, you didn’t find Tobey very scary, did you? And who names a bird “bird”? 

Because Z’Oiseau’s original name, Zozo, is Euskara, a language spoken in the Pyrenees, that was my first place to look for animals. Nothing jumped out to me, though, so I moved on to looking up big cat species and hoping for the best. Then an idea came to me - what about a tiger, but with reversed stripes? It’d fit the reasoning behind the “blackbird” name, and he’d be the most powerful big cat out there. To my surprise, melanistic tigers do exist, and they’re really cool. I picked the Bengal tiger of India for Z’Oiseau, as most of the ‘black tigers’ have been spotted there. 

Z’Oiseau’s stripes can be simplified for animation or what-have-you. Or you can draw every individual stripe as presented in the photo, I’m not gonna stop you.

Well, that’s that! Might make Tubbs Tarbell and Cobb Avery later. For now, as a reward for making it this far, here’s some silly scribbles + shitposting: