VALLEY girl
pairing: underground LA producer!chwe vernon x valley girl! fem!reader
genre & warnings: pwp, explicit content, swearing, substance abuse, hate sex, bathroom sex, rough sex, mirror sex, unprotected (DON'T do this) sex, hard dom! vernon, creampie, hickeys, biting, lots of dirty talk, use of derogatory terms (slut, whore), degradation, rough-housing (chs grabs readers jaw), nipple play, hair pulling, choking... there's probably more lmk what i've missed! 18+, mdni!
desc: chwe vernon was the king of the underground scene, renowned for his producing work and famous for being tough to get in bed but absolutely sensational if you got underneath him. however, you don't care — you were too busy filling your bed with whatever producer fell for your fluttering eyelashes until Vernon had a rapid change of heart.
wc: 3.8k
note: thank you to @kyeomofhearts @binniebean0 & @nerdycheol who listened to my yap and watched me lose it over making a banner (lol). big thank u to the lovely @cheers-to-you-th who beta'd! lav u <3
𝄞: ain't in la by adéla, valley girls by blackbear & tu tu neurotic by the hellp
THE CHIRP OF CICADAS rang distantly through the hazy bedroom, soft yellow hues slipping through rustling white curtains and a warm breeze lifting and dancing with the fabric as slits of harsh sunlight caught your face.
Grimly, you rubbed your eyes to kill the daze that clouded your vision and maybe, by some euphoric miracle, ease the throbbing possessing your head. When you finally managed to focus your eyes, the creamy popcorn ceiling made your brain feel like it was seeing static, the silent spin of an aged fan making you blink harshly, the motion spinning your brain savagely.
As you turned your head to look anywhere that wasn't the relentlessly revolving fan, a dark shag of hair materialised next to you, a bundle of tanned limbs sleeping peacefully away from you.
The vision of toned biceps let your memories fuse together instantaneously — back arched impossibly as Mingyu pounded into you persistently, strong arms holding you against his chest as he refused to falter his pace, orgasms so blissful you dared to stay the night.
Jesus Christ.
Maybe it was the ecstasy you were sure Jeonghan slid you or the cocaine you'd snorted through giggles with Chan, or maybe even the bitter beer you'd shotgunned with Jun — the sticky substance coating your bikini top and making your chest glisten in the strobe lights.
Selfishly, you raked your eyes down Mingyu's god-like body; his back muscles practically pulsed even as he lay slack, small, level breaths escaping his parted lips. Then, you silently slipped out of his bed, using your perfected feather-like footsteps to gather your various discarded articles of clothing and slide them onto your body — a skimpy bikini top that reeked of alcohol and a pair of striped booty shorts that Mingyu had almost ripped off your body. As you squinted into the mess, your pretty lace panties were nowhere to be seen.
Fuck the underwear; they were concealed by heaps of clothes and blankets, and you needed to get out of the house urgently, before the impending comedown punctured your consciousness and rendered you a zombie for a few hours.
Without a peep, you crept out of his bedroom, silently clicking the lock as you bee-lined for the front door, wherever it was.
Throughout the three years that you'd lived in Los Angeles, you never seemed to get the hang of coordinating your way out of a house the morning after. Hallways that were packed with people abandoned in the early light, solo cups and toilet rolls stuck to tacky floorboards, silence echoing louder than any music had played the night before.
But, as your head began to pound, the adrenaline of the drugs slipping from you selfishly, you just picked a direction and followed it. Luckily, the quiet hum of a voice grew louder as you followed dirt-stained walls, mysterious patches of liquid and clusters of discarded trash.
Like the gates to heaven, the front door appeared as you turned a corner, and a sigh of relief almost slipped out of your mouth instinctively. However, as the room opened up, a lounge-style seating area came into view; a figure sat with one leg resting over the other, both legs bobbing incessantly as the man leaned with a slackened head against the back pillows of the settee.
You could recognise that mop anywhere. Vernon Chwe, the Los Angeles underground scene's most renowned producer — and fuck, as you'd been told. The man was a living legend among female party-goers; famously tough to get in bed, but if he decided you were worthy of him, he quite literally rocked your world.
And sure, you'd love for your world to be rocked. But you'd dipped into a lot of LA producers and were satisfied enough. The last in a long line, Mingyu, was sensational enough to warrant a sleepover — a rare luxury few men got from you, so you were alright with never experiencing the five-star fuck that was Vernon.
Plus, every time you saw him, he'd dismissed your presence without a moment of hesitation. Either walking away from you mid-conversation or ignoring any input you contributed. You never knew if it was deliberate, but it definitely felt like it was.
On the sofa, his jaw was tensed as he held his phone to his ear, slender fingers gripping slightly too hard as the distant babble of a voice played into his ear. When you took your leave, his gaze drifted from the chandelier to your scantily-clad body, watching with the same deadpan expression for a second before returning his bored look to the ceiling.
To him, you were probably another underground groupie, fucking his friends and drinking his alcohol, fading from his conscience as soon as you appeared, like smoke from a cigarette; produced to be discarded.
And that's why you took control of every sexual encounter you partook in. Even if you were S.Coups' 'little slut' for one night or Joshua Hong's 'princess' for another — you'd always walk away as soon as it was done, just to ensure they knew you weren't going to be their booth girl to trample all over.
Quite frankly, it worked a treat. You were having brain-altering orgasms multiple nights a week, listening to the best electronic music LA had to offer and then walking away with some of the hottest producers still desperate to feel you wrap around them again.
Letting yourself out, the heavy Los Angeles heat hit you, making bile rise in your throat as you walked away from the mansion, not once glancing back as your heels hit the sidewalk, the humidity bouncing off of the cement below you.
It was another one of those nights, tucked deep in the Hidden Hills, a sprawling bungalow shook with bass as bodies piled into the heap of the house. The art-deco style abode was bound to be a disaster by sunrise, and the front garden was already halfway there — pools of sick in the grass, tipped-over trash cans, couples lustfully making out on the steps.
The sight sent excitement running down your spine.
Pushing through the dark wooden door, you were greeted by the sight of people — a lot of them.
From wall to wall, the space was packed with drunken party-goers, swaying along to the thumping dance music and hollering at each other, voices raised to match the music and alcohol rife in their systems. Cans raised to the ceiling as people got lost in the music, letting their necks hang in time to the beating kick drum.
The lively electronic track was a new tune, and it flowed through you easily; the rumbling bass resonating deeply, making the cocaine you'd snorted suddenly awaken as you allowed your chin to nod timidly along. Keeping your chunky sunglasses over your eyes, you squinted over the sea of bodies to spot who was situated behind the makeshift decks.
Hunched to one side, adorning a black top, was Vernon, his eyes concealed by his shaggy fringe as his head swung nonchalantly from side to side. However, beside him was the8, a close friend of many of the guys you'd slept with — if you were honest, the8, or Minghao, was absolutely enticing, and his shaggy blonde mullet was practically sending heat between your thighs already.
'Ah! Hey you!' The loud and booming voice belonging to Mingyu sounded, and you turned your head to where the built man materialised through the crowd, slinging a strong arm around your shoulders.
'Hey Gyu!' You replied, letting the taller man hug you sweetly. As much as Mingyu was oblivious, he knew you were just a one-time fuck, and graciously he accepted it, even though at every party since you'd slipped out of his bed at 8 am he'd drunkenly tell you he'd do anything to do it again.
There was a part of you deep down that felt bad for him, but alas, you maintained a healthy friendship with him and allowed him to guide you behind the decks at every single party. It was sort of a ritual at this point; you'd end up like a booth girl — but instead of splaying yourself for attention, you just let them silently approach you.
So without further ado, Mingyu's strong arm and elevated presence parted a path through the crowd, and you were situated with a perfect view of Minghao's tattooed muscles, not batting an eye at the nonchalant man beside him.
With flirtatious giggles and batted eyelashes, you had managed to enamour Minghao into holding your waist weakly as he spoke to someone beside him. The time had passed dangerously slowly as you waited for him to take you home, twirling your hair between your fingers as your gaze floated across the intoxicated bodies dancing along to the next DJ.
'Going to the toilet, I'll be back.' You leaned over and whispered with a flirtatious bite, and Minghao turned to you, smoothing his hands down your dress and cupping your ass.
'Ok, let's go to mine when you're back.'
Finally.
Slipping away, you were subjected to the crowd of unruly party-goers — multiple of them stumbling and shoving into you as you bee-lined for what looked like a hallway. After what felt like a torturous hike instead of a brisk walk through a party, you emerged in a quieter hallway, a pissed-off scowl dominating your face as you leaned against the wall.
The dim lighting masked the faces of the bodies that floated around the narrow space, and you tapped your foot impatiently as you waited for the bathroom door to swing open.
As you reclined against the wall, a figure appeared in your peripheral vision, and you snapped your head forwards to distinguish who had halted only a few centimetres from your face.
Unmoving, stoic eyes bored into yours as you were greeted by Vernon, his movement paused with certainty as he sized you up, and under his gaze you felt like prey, cornered by a ruthless predator.
'What do you want?' You asked, a grimace twisting your expression as you looked up at him.
'What do you think?' He replied with a deadpan voice, holding an almost identical look of disgust when his eyes trailed down your body and he signalled to the bathroom.
'Whatever.' You muttered, looking up at Vernon with sharp eyes. This was the closest you'd ever been to him, and you could finally see his dark chocolate eyes clearly. There was no trace of emotion adorning his orbs, not even recognition, so when he spoke to you, it came as a shock.
Vernon was ridiculously handsome, his bushy pointed eyebrows making his eyes look like they were narrowed — like he was permanently judging whatever was in front of him. His jaw was tightly clenched in this moment, like just looking at you pissed him off.
And there was no way on planet earth you were letting the effect of his heavy gaze show on your features, so you met his stabbing eye line as it stared into you.
'Don't you get bored of being everyone's booth girl?' He asked easily, like the words weren't practically spoken to grate against you.
'Don't you get bored of being fucking miserable all the time?' You hung your head to one side, letting venom seethe in every word.
For a few moments, he doesn't break your eye contact, as if his gaze could hurt you.
'Would hate for you to forget your panties at my house again.' There was a hint of a satisfied look that surfaced on his face momentarily before it was swallowed into his nonchalant facade.
Oh, this fucking cunt.
'You'd love it if I left my panties in your room, Chwe. Don't act all high and fucking mighty.'
To your retort, his head snapped away, his jaw sharpened as he gritted his teeth. A sweet smile danced on your face, victory tasting a little too good as you slipped away from him, unable to bear his presence any longer.
'Bye Vernon! I'm off to leave my panties in Minghao's room tonight!' But before you could throw a mocking wave over your shoulder, a strong hand pinned you against the wall, chapped lips meeting yours in a greedy kiss.
Without hesitation, you let your eyes flutter closed as the feeling of Vernon's lips pressed against yours sent jolts of electricity sprinting down your spine — Vernon. Chwe Vernon. King of the Los Angeles underground scene and god of nonchalance had you pinned messily against a wall in the midst of a bustling party.
Well shit.
Vernon tasted like mint and the best parts of a shot of vodka — there was an intoxicating way his lips caught yours, his teeth biting at your bottom lip and dragging it with head-spinning intensity.
As your hand found the fluffy nape of his neck, it tugged harshly, your tongues practically fighting for dominance amongst one another as he pressed himself against you. There was a sense of desperation that bled through you both, the kiss not loving at all — it was a mess of selfish lust, insistent dominance and pure, undiluted hatred.
'I fucking hate you.' You spoke through heavy breaths as his lips began to trail downwards, biting and nipping roughly at every spot he could find, and it had you in a fit of indiscreet moans.
A dry laugh sounded against your jaw, and he continued, not sparing the words to respond.
The bathroom door swung open, a drunken man stumbling out, and Vernon had you through the doorway with lightning-fast agility — pressing you against the hollow wood expertly, his mouth reattaching to the crook of your neck, sucking cruelly and biting at you like you were just something to put in his mouth.
Like your worth was equivalent to the piece of mint gum pressed between his teeth.
His strong hands had your hips held tightly as he pressed them against the door, unallowing of any movement. Even as you squirmed when he hit that sweet spot behind your ear, his iron grip kept you as still as he wanted you to be — loud and breathy moans leaving your lips as his became unrelenting.
'Listen to you.' He breathed, still working at that spot. 'Such a fucking slut.'
The words went straight to your core, butterflies fluttering at a fierce intensity within you, sending wetness sopping out of your neglected heat. Reluctantly leaving your hip, Vernon let his hand grip your boob roughly, a small sigh leaving his lips as he let his assault trail along your chest.
It was mind-boggling, the hate pumping through you that was being viciously subdued by how good Vernon was making you feel. It was like all that hate fuelled something different this time — something that was making his length harden in his jeans.
'You're a slut, aren't you?' He questioned as he pulled the tight fabric of your dress to scoop below your breasts, forcing them to bulge out in an almost pornographic fashion. As he pinched your nipple, his tongue licked ruthlessly at the other, and you were rendered absolutely wordless. The overwhelming sensation of your body being stimulated so expertly let only deep breaths and heinous sounds fall out of your mouth.
Then he seized. The euphoric movement halted savagely as he held your jaw firmly, forcing you to meet his harsh gaze. It was enticing how his dilated pupils were so darkened, lust ruling every second of your encounter. 'Answer me.'
'Yes, Vernon.' You spat out, chest rising and falling as you caught your breath.
Before he continued, he rejoined your lips — and for a few seconds it's not full of hatred, and there's no point desperately trying to be proven, no tugging on either of your bodies; he's just got his arms wrapped around your waist, lips pressed deliciously against yours as he walked you away from the shut door.
However, the shock of the cool tile adorning the sinks met the back of your thighs, and the warmth dissipated; Vernon's hands roughly spinning you to be bent over the cold porcelain sink.
The mirror revealed a vision of indecency; Vernon had left an array of dark splotches along your neck, purple blossoming against your skin, your hair messily falling down one shoulder, your breasts practically squeezed together. And like a shadow behind you, his brown hair concealed his features as his hand smoothed along you.
'Look at you,' He met your gaze, his eyes half-closed in a sultry look as he inspected his work. He pressed himself against you, letting the hardness of his clothed erection push against your ass, and the feeling made you impossibly wetter. 'Such a pretty whore.'
'About time I see for myself what all the boys were raving about.' He spoke as he roughly shoved the silk of your dress upwards, exposing your ass and thighs, the tiny lace panties doing a shockingly bad job at concealing the arousal dripping down you.
A strangled groan left his throat as he took in the sight of your uncovered body, making his hardness throb with need. Using one hand to roughly squeeze the flesh of your ass, he unbuckled his belt and tugged his jeans and underwear down to his thighs in one smooth movement.
Vernon's hardened member slapped against you, and you held your breath in anticipation, your hips involuntarily bucking to gain any type of friction — you didn't care at this point; it didn't matter that this was the man who never spared you a glance, or who famously discarded his hook-ups like an old toy. All that mattered was how hard he was going to fuck you.
'So desperate, huh?' A small grin quirked on his lips, and it was a pure expression of cockiness, selfish pride on his features as you pushed yourself towards him, his slender fingers slowly making their way through your folds.
It's almost blissful, how he touched you enough to have your head hanging back onto his shoulder but not enough to have you clenching around nothing. If you weren't so distracted by the overwhelming feeling of his digits flicking your clit, you'd pay attention to how his head was nuzzled against yours, peppering light, almost intimate, kisses along the side of your head.
But before you had time to realise his slip-up, his almost stupid exposee on himself, he was roughly pushing you against the counter, your breasts pooling against the tile as he gripped your hip.
'Don't you get enough attention, whore?' He spat almost maliciously as he bullied his way into you, the gushing wetness making him slip in like it was exactly where he was supposed to be.
He was big. Not the type of big that is a discarded comment; his length had brutally scratched your cervix in the first thrust and ignited a bittersweet stinging sensation as he stretched you. The feeling made a gaudy moan force its way out of your mouth, your eyes screwed tightly shut in absolute pleasure.
Without a moment to spare, he pistoned into you with an unrelenting pace, his member hitting every single inch of you, the feeling beyond anything you'd felt before. It was enticing, the way he hit parts of you that you didn't even know existed, not alleviating his speed for even a second.
As you forced your eyes open, the sight of Vernon made you clench around him. His face was flushed, cheeks pinkened as his lips were caught between his teeth — there was a lusty glaze adorning his eyes as he watched your ass giggle with each thrust.
'Fuck,' He groaned, his grip hard enough to leave bruises against the skin of your hips; wet sounds echoed through the bathroom as he fucked you ruthlessly, wetness practically gushing out of you with each tenacious thrust.
As his eyes met yours, he released one side of your hip, gathering your hair into a mass before pulling you roughly against his chest.
'Look at yourself slut.' He said, your tits bouncing rhythmically as he continued to fuck you. It was degrading and frankly embarrassing to be in this position, the party thumping behind the bathroom door — and it's even more humiliating that Vernon has you like this, a gushing mess in a filthy LA party bathroom.
The sight is enough to make the approaching release come hurtling at you faster, 'Vernon, I'm going to cum.'
Your words only made him speed up impossibly faster. It was incomprehensible how he could thrust into you at such a heinous speed, and your body felt like it was running at a near-boiling point.
With a cocky smirk, he released your hair to grip your neck instead, the pressure overwhelming as you let your head slacken onto his shoulder.
'Good girl, cum for me.' He whispered into your ear, letting his hot breath tickle it, and rapidly your vision was turning white as stars exploded within you, the insistent banging of his tip against your cervix jolting euphoric pleasure through you as you cum around his cock, clenching uncontrollably as he continued.
'Such a good slut.' He said, and you whimpered, the feeling of him inside you, chasing his own high, so overwhelming all you could do was lean with jelly limbs into him.
'Just going to keep using you until I cum.' He said through gritted teeth, hand still securely around your neck to keep you right where he wanted you. It was like you were a rag doll, almost limp for him to finish himself off on.
Ludicrous moans tumbled out as every inch of you felt overstimulated. Beside you, small groans slipped from Vernon's mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut, his pace brutal inside you.
'Fuck, you're so hot.' He admitted, and if you weren't at his mercy, you may've smirked cockily. But you were still at his disposal, your hole a toy for him to get off in. As you gasped, his hips slapping yours cruelly, his moans intensified, and he pushed you down again, hot skin hitting the cold tile as his orgasm descended upon him.
The pace faltered, and throaty moans escaping him as you felt him twitch inside you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and slow as he painted your insides with his load. As he stilled inside you, you finally let your breath begin to catch up with you, feeling aware of your skin gleaming with sweat and hair in tangled masses
Leisurely, he pulled out, eyes trained to the mixture of release coating your folds.
The air suddenly felt tense, as if you both realised who you'd just fucked and how good it was. In a calm scurry, you pushed yourself forward, pulling your dress to conceal your exposed body and combing your hair through with your fingers.
Behind you, Vernon was tugging his underwear onto his hips, the matching sheen making his pale complexion glow.
'Where the fuck is my underwear?' You questioned, wondering if the mind-blowing orgasm had rendered your brain useless as you scrambled to cover your leaking vagina. With squinted eyes, you turned to Vernon, who had finished buckling his belt and now had your soaked panties hanging off of his pointer finger.
'Don't be a dick.' You reached to grab the lacy material from him, and he roughly shoved them into his back pocket.
'You can get these from my room next time.'
note: post v8 psychosis making me feral i stg...
