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eoieopda · 6 months

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sweatshirt season | ksy

your fuck buddy is good at a lot of things. taking hints isn’t one of them.

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader type: one-shot / fluff + smut rating: 18+ (minors do not have my consent to interact) au: one-night-stand to fuck buddies to ? wc: 4.5k cw: gn! and afab!reader (no pronouns used); time skips; protected penetrative sex (p in v); hoshi is kinda a himbo, lmao; ft. cameo by minghao and roomate!gn!sibling OC; reference to the movie they're watching, which is hereditary (brief mention of decapitation + demonic possession); barely proofread, sorry! a/n: this is based on a headcanon i did a while ago! i've been in such a horrible rut re: writing for the past month and a half, so it was a major struggle to write this because i feel like i don't know how to do that anymore 😵‍💫 i'm hoping that himbo hoshi can save me from this hell. also, this is told in vignettes!

[APRIL]

“Babe?”

The voice from nowhere is barely loud enough to drag you from sleep, but the effect it has on you is far from soft. Those consonants dig in where your dehydrated brain shrinks away from your skull, pressing in so hard that they throb.

Bleary-eyed, you blink as rapidly as you can to adjust to the bright, white light beaming in through your open shades. The sound that escapes you is something akin to a hiss; it gets the point across, nonetheless. You sit up just enough to see the figure standing in front of your window, looming overhead with crossed arms, laughing.

Clearly, your roommate doesn’t give a shit or a fuck about your hangover.

“What’s the deal with the stray you brought home last night?” Mei asks, the corners of their mouth tilting wickedly.

You don’t have the brain power for this conversation, so you respond with a groan and bury your face back in the pillow from whence it came. Never one to give up, Mei drops down on top of you so that the full weight of their body rests against yours.

“C’mon,” they urge. “Spill your guts, chingu.”

Funnily enough, if they don’t get off your guts, you might do exactly that.

Your reply comes in the form of a croak, some pathetic little sound that reads as lifeless as you feel. “Why do you care?”

There isn’t a single reason you can think of for their sudden interest in your bad decisions. You’ve been making them left and right for the past few months without much more than a concerned glance, and until now, you didn’t realize that you’d taken the lack of follow-up questions for granted.

What a fucking travesty it is to be perceived.

“Your business is your business.” Mei shrugs. You quirk an eyebrow, ready to jump in and point out their lapse in logic, but then that smirk comes back. “But your business is currently burning eggs in our kitchen, which makes it my business, too.”

Sitting up quickly, the force of your sudden moves nearly knock Mei to the ground. Beyond horrified, you squeak, “He’s still here?”

Faster than you’ve ever moved before, you clamber out from underneath your roommate and crawl to the edge of your bed, kicking wildly at your blankets until your legs are free.

You’re already up and swaying on your feet, panting from the effort, when you finally think to look down and assess the state of yourself. Thankfully, you’d remembered to dress yourself before falling asleep. You glance upward and salute whatever deity was looking out for you, ignore the look on Mei’s face entirely, and dash out of your bedroom.

As soon as you reach the kitchen, you skid to a stop, socks sliding across the hardwood until your hip bone collides with the corner of the kitchen island. You hiss again, far louder than the last time. The shape standing at your stove turns around wide-eyed; his mouth is frozen in the shape of an “o”.

Just as quick, recognition flashes, and the shock wears off.

“Good morning,” he chirps, and he’s all fucking sunshine.

You blink back at him without a single idea of where to start — with the fact that he’s still here after you could’ve sworn he left, that he’s wearing your apron but has no clear grasp on the simple act of frying eggs, or that you cannot for the life of you remember his name.

Fuck.

You should really start keeping a guest book.

Whatever his name is, he’s witnessing you at your worst — certifiably crusty with your standard bad attitude — and that alone makes you want to wither and die, right on the spot. Unbothered by your ghoulish appearance, he gestures to the kitchen island you just collided with, pointing to a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Items he would’ve had to open two (2) separate cabinets to find.

In the kitchen he shouldn’t even be in.

You open your mouth, primed to explode all over him, but the way he’s looking at you disarms you immediately. His expression is so chipper — so friendly and childlike in its innocence — that you swallow down the shit you’d readily hurl at anyone else. You gulp, and without saying a word in acknowledgement, you grab what he’s laid out for you.

He smiles when you choke down the aspirin, then turns back around to pull the scrambled, half-burnt mess off the burner.

“You must have a pretty low alcohol tolerance if you’re this hungover after three drinks,” he muses.

It’s an accurate observation — a harmless one, too — but you did not ask. Once again, he shoots you a smile that prevents you from snapping at him. Instead, you set the now-empty glass back down on the island and stare vacantly over at him.

Seonghwa?

“You’re still here,” you say flatly. You may be stating the obvious, but that fact speaks for itself. “You’re still here, and you’re also in my kitchen.”

Seokjin, maybe?

He smiles at this, either unaware that he’s violated the unwritten one-night-stand code of conduct or unfazed by his own rule breaking. Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughs awkwardly, “It was the least I could do, you know? After all you —”

What the fuck is your name?

“Sungwoo!” You cut him off with a gasp and a palm raised, all but begging him not to recount what he’s grateful for within earshot of your roommate. “Really, you don’t need to do this. Any of this.”

He corrects you gently, “It’s Soonyoung.”

Then, without even a hint of offense taken, he nods his head towards one of the stools tucked under the counter of the island. Your eyes flit between his hopeful face and the seat, frozen solid with indecision.

You see two options, and both feel like a trap:

Holding the line risks squashing this clueless boy’s marshmallow heart; and you don’t want to be the gash that ruins his day at the very outset. If you feed the stray — rather, if you let the stray feed you — then you’re an enabler, contracting a residency when the show was supposed to be one-night-only.

More perceptive than you’ve given him credit for so far, he senses the conflict inside your skull and attempts to tip the scale with a bread-cheeked smile and a shoulder wiggle. “Your breakfast is getting cold,” he nudges in a soft, sing-song tone.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Begrudgingly, you dump yourself onto a stool without a word. With your elbows now propped up on the countertop, you drop your chin down to rest on the heels of your hands. More than anything, you try like hell to ignore the way it all makes his face light up.

“I don’t understand how you went from demonically hot to…” Your voice trails off as you try to find a word for whatever this is. A beat passes before you give up, waving dismissively. “Domesticated, or whatever.”

And his cheeks go pink.

“You think I’m hot?” He all but gasps, like this is brand new information to him.

Like you would’ve brought him home from the club if he wasn’t — and goddamn, was he ever. Carrying himself with the kind of confidence that made your knees wobble; saying all the right things in a low, smoky tone with his lips at your ear; moving his body in ways that still fluster you to think about.

And yet, here he is.

Adorable, if not completely obtuse.

After grabbing plates from a nearby cabinet, he snags two pairs of chopsticks out of the drawer to the left of the sink. It takes all you’ve got not to roll your eyes. He shouldn’t know where either of those things are, but he does.

A satisfied sigh slips out of his mouth when he takes the seat next to yours and scoots a plate full of eggs and kimchi in front of you.

“Here you go,” he sings as he holds out a pair of your own chopsticks to you.

He’s beaming when you accept them into your hand, and it leaves you with no choice but to take a bite of the food in front of you. Intently and chronically hopeful, he watches you pluck a piece of scrambled egg from the plate, like the trajectory of his life hinges on your approval. There’s no turning back now. Reluctantly, you pop it into your mouth.

While you chew, he leans in a bit closer. From this distance, you can see your own reflection in his irises; there are tiny flecks of honey brown amidst the dark, you realize. Little details you didn’t notice last night when he was much, much closer — like the heart-shaped curve his upper lip takes when he smiles as big as he is now.

“How is it?” He asks, walking the borderline between eager and unbearably shy.

You swallow hard as you snap back to attention. If letting him stay for breakfast was a bad call, getting caught gawking at him is a flagrant foul. Somehow, you need to get the point across without being too cruel; to remind him that you signed up for the night and not the morning.

“Um. Well,” you start with a grimace, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Are eggs supposed to… crunch?”

[JUNE]

“Oh, fuck, just like that —”

Your back arches off the bed as you grip uselessly at sweat-drenched sheets. Between your spread thighs, Soonyoung and the punishing pace he’s set make quick work of pulling you apart, again. His right arm loops under your left leg to anchor you to him while his left palm presses down on your lower abdomen, making damn sure that every thrust drags over your g-spot.

This — this right here — is why you keep calling him back. He may overstay his welcome, but that’s an occupational hazard. His perpetual presence is a risk you’re willing to take, so long as he fucks you like this.

“Shit. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?”

He’s panting as he says it, which surprises the hell out of you. His stamina is unearthly, and when you manage to keep your eyes open long enough to look up at him, you don’t see any hint of effort. It's just the ragged sound of his breathing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I think this might be a new personal record.”

Unfortunately, his little announcement is genuine. He’s merely stating a fact, not trying to tease you, because his only concern outside of making you cum is outdoing himself.

To Soonyoung, sex is a performance he’s trying to perfect. He approaches it like an Olympian — an athlete or a god? — and the bar he sets for himself raises every time you see him.

You find it the tiniest bit endearing how focused he is on self-improvement.

Kind of.

That doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes, though.

“Not if you keep —” A moan that you didn’t mean to let out cuts your sentence in half. “— talking.”

Your head crashes back against the pillows, which only spurs him on. Deeper, more deliberate strokes leave you writhing underneath him, babbling like a fool. He grins so wide that his eyes almost disappear.

“I’m just saying…” Another thrust, a thousand more stars dotting the periphery of your vision. “If you hit five, you owe me dinner.”

There it is, right on cue: another piece of evidence to prove that Soonyoung still doesn’t know what he signed up for.

It’s a conversation you’ve had more than once — never because you want to have it; and never because he seems to be consciously seeking something more than what you have.

At some point over the past few months of scattered nights with you, a seed seems to have taken root in the back of his brain. A zombie parasite, more likely; one that’s overridden the controls and completely undermined his understanding of the situation.

Whether he means it or not, these throw-away comments make you wonder if, deep down, he’s not wired to fuck without feelings.

Not like you, anyway.

Your self-preservation instincts don’t let you get that far. Risk-averse to your core, you don’t see the point of gambling when the stakes are that high. And even if you weren’t wary of getting yourself hurt, it wouldn’t change the fundamental truth that you enjoy your own company enough not to need anyone else’s.

The way you see it, Soonyoung can have a cameo in your weekends, but the plot of your life right now doesn’t need anything more than that. Changing the lineup now could fuck your whole season. So, why try?

To his credit, he seems to get that there are currently more pressing matters at hand than the same old conversation. He pats your hip and says, “Let’s switch it up.”

You’re as grateful for the subject change as you are for the hand he extends to help your boneless body sit up again. Thankfully, the one lesson he has learned is that no one can compete with his perpetually full battery. If he’s going to change positions as often as he wants to, he has to be the one to position you.

This time, you wind up with your back flush against his chest, skin slick against yours. To keep him close, you reach back until your hand finds the nape of his neck. After weaving your fingers through the damp hair at the base of his head, you tug slightly, pulling a low groan out of him.

“Fuck, yeah,” he grunts breathlessly. “Pull my hair.”

You do as he says, albeit a bit harder than you meant to; you can’t help it. That’s the exact moment he chooses to grab your hips and slam your ass back against his pelvis, perfectly in time with his forward snap. He’s in your guts now, there’s no doubt about it, and you’re falling to pieces.

Wailing, you have to squeeze your eyes shut to survive the surge of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, my god,” you choke out.

The only way you manage to stay upright through your orgasm is with Soonyoung’s arms caging you in. Without him, you’d be a trembling fucking mess, collapsing face-down onto your bed in a useless heap. He keeps holding you even when he lets himself go soon after, spilling into the condom with a moan you feel as it leaves his chest.

“Goddamn,” he sighs, voice rough. The heat of his breath on your neck almost makes you want to cling to him, curl up and let your eyes flutter shut. “Every time I fuck you, I feel like I should thank you.”

That flicker of affection goes out in a flash as the memory of consequences comes back around. You snort. “Please don’t cook for me again.”

You leave it at that, and so does he. When he finally pulls out of you, you give into the safer urge; the one that can’t possible give him the wrong impression. Slumping forward, you hit the mattress so hard that you practically bounce, like the dead weight you are.

Soonyoung misses that spectacle, thankfully. He’s already on his feet, tying off the condom before dropping it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. You hear it drop against the plastic bag, then the soft pad of his footsteps as he makes his way back to you. You unbury your face from the pillows and crane your neck to look over at him.

In a rare display, he looks exhausted. Moments like this might be the only time he ever finds himself depleted, and you figure he’s earned that right. Part of you wants to let him lay here with you — maybe even let him sleep it off — but you can’t let him get tangled in the strings you refuse to attach.

He’s halfway to you when he finally looks up at you and catches you watching him. You’re not sure what he sees in your expression; you’d bet it’s as confusing on the outside as it feels on the inside. Whatever he finds there, it makes him pause. There's a quick nod, like he’s reacting to something neither one of you has said out loud, then he changes course.

“You have to be up early,” he says, like he’s finally learned the script. “I’m gonna head out.”

You nod but say nothing else. You just watch as Soonyoung grabs the clothes you’d tugged off of him earlier, piece by piece, and puts everything back to the way it was before.

The way you want it.

Once he’s fully clothed, he shoots you a smile that only uses half of his mouth. Neither of you offers a word as he walks over to the door, although you can tell he’s moving more slowly than usual. Hoping you’ll stop him, maybe.

You don’t.

It’s not until he pulls it open that he looks back over his shoulder at you; and this time, when he smiles, it looks like he means it.

“Sleep well, yeah?”

[OCTOBER]

“I’m just saying that if her shithead brother bothered to include her in his night, maybe she wouldn’t have been decapitated."

You tear your eyes off the television screen in time to see Minghao’s eyes roll all the way back into his head. Across the coffee table from where you sit, he and Mei occupy the couch; his head crashes against the back of it with a muffled thump while his younger sibling continues their rant.

“I’m being for real,” Mei urges, jabbing their finger emphatically through the air in his direction. “If you ever bail on me like that, and my head ends up falling off, you deserve whatever consequences come next.”

You snort. “Up to and including… what, demonic possession?”

“Absolutely,” Mei sniffs.

Minghao sits upright again slowly. He chews thoughtfully on his lower lip, leaving you and your roommate in suspense. Knowing him, he’ll lecture you both on karmic energy and how Mei shouldn’t fuck around with it. To both of your surprise, he frowns. “Is it bad that I kind of want cake now?”

You and Mei respond at the same time, although your responses are nothing alike:

“I think we have some left over.”

“Yes, you’re a monster.”

Despite what they just called him, Mei is nothing if not a good host. With a beleaguered huff, they push themselves off the couch, step carefully over the legs Minghao doesn’t move out of their path, and stalks off towards the kitchen to forage for food.

Left alone in the living room, you and Minghao fall into an easy silence, eyes glued once again to the screen. It’s always been easier to get through a movie without Mei’s commentary; this one would’ve been finished an hour ago if they hadn’t kept pausing it to ramble. You’re so immersed in it that you hardly hear the way they’re tearing through the kitchen like a cyclone. You almost miss the soft knock at the door, too.

Immediately, your optimistic eyes flick over to Minghao. He’s closer to the door, and if you stare at him long enough, he might let you stay in the armchair you’ve all but fused to.

“Nope,” he says coolly, without even looking.

Whining, you peel off the blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in and unfurl your knotted legs. You shiver when your bare feet touch the cold wood below, but bravely, you don’t retreat. You push forward on tiptoe and skip across the living room until you reach the front door.

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead when you open it to find Soonyoung standing there for the first time in several weeks. While overstaying his welcome is his signature, showing up uninvited never has been. That’s apparently one line in the sand he won’t stumble over.

“Hey,” you peep.

For reasons unknown, you have to pause to let your gaze sweep over him, like something might’ve drastically changed about him since you saw him last. There’s a tiny flutter in the center of your chest that begs you to greet him more emphatically than that, but you ignore it.

Soonyoung looks more apologetic than you’ve ever seen him, which makes your pulse quicken even more.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” he swears. “I think I left my headphones here last time. I’ve looked everywhere, I promise, but they’re just — gone.”

Your first instinct is to ask why he brought headphones to a dick appointment in the first place, but you talk yourself out of it. The next is to find out why he came all the way over here on a hunch, rather than simply texting you; he hasn’t in a while, not that you’ve taken it to heart. But you don’t do that, either, which strikes you as odd.

Instead, you step back and push the door open wider, once again letting the stray inside. “No worries,” you breeze.

Since when?

As it turns out, letting him in doesn’t bring the sky crashing down around you. Taking a single brick out of the wall you’ve fastidiously built doesn’t bring about the end of days. It just brings a shy bow and a quiet “thank you” while he toes off his shoes.

He turns to head toward your bedroom with you following behind him, but he stops short after a few steps. Crashing into his back — god, he’s broader than he looks — you grab his biceps to keep from bowling him over entirely.

“Shit — I’m so sorry.” He wheels around, failing to realize that you’re as close as you are. You can see panic light up his eyes, now mere centimeters from yours. “I didn’t realize you had somebody over.”

What is that scribbled all over his face?

It’s not anger, you know that much. Nothing about the way he’s looking at you reads like jealousy, either. If anything, he seems genuinely torn-up over what he assumes is date-crashing. Guilty, maybe.

So, why do you feel bad?

“Mei’s brother,” you explain quickly, as if he’s owed one. “Our annual horror movie marathon. We — all of us — do it every October.”

Why did you add that qualifier in there?

Soonyoung’s face brightens immediately, and you feel the tiniest bit warmer now that the corners of his mouth aren’t curved downward anymore. You wish that surprised you, but it doesn’t.

Why should it? You’ve given into him more often than not, haven’t you?

All he says is, “Oh,” in the tiniest voice you’ve ever heard, like he’s embarrassed himself for the first time in his life.

It grows quiet while the two of you continue to stand there in the half-light. If you discount the screaming, the flickering colors coming from the television screen make it feel almost — cozy?

But you’ve been gazing up at him for far too long, so you clear your throat. “Your — umm — your headphones. Do you remember where you left them?”

You nudge him slightly to get him moving, which he does without complaint.

“I think they jumped out of my pocket when you…” Soonyoung’s voice trails off. As you pass by, he glances over at Minghao, who either can’t hear your conversation or doesn’t give a shit about it.

With that indifference confirmed, Soonyoung looks back at you with a smirk. “You broke my zipper, you know. I had to take those jeans to a tailor to fix it.”

Immediately, your cheeks start burning.

Resident fuck monster, reporting for duty! Here to rip clothes to shreds and —

He touches your wrist, just for a second. “It’s cute,” he assures you, even though you haven’t said a word.

And it doesn’t do a damn thing to keep that heat from rising up your face.

You step into your bedroom before you can think of what to say in response, so you let the moment pass and flick on the light. Just as soon as he joins you inside, Soonyoung lays eyes on what he came for — which is a miracle. That thin, white cord is practically invisible under your dresser.

“Ah!” He chirps, bending down to grab it.

Looking triumphant as hell, he tucks it into the pocket of his joggers and shoots you a grin. Suddenly, you find it hard to mimic his smile, although you don’t know why.

He got what he came for, didn’t he? He’ll be out of your hair in a matter of moments, which is exactly what you’ve been demanding of him for months. You had to train him to get in and get out, and when he eventually learned, the relief was immediate.

So, why don’t you feel relieved now?

Soonyoung must hear your trains of thought derailing because he comes in hot with a distraction. As usual, it’s out of left field, just like the soft brush of his fingers on your bare arm.

“You’re cold.”

It’s not a question.

There aren’t even goosebumps on your arm; and there’s no reason why he should know by looking at you that you are, in fact, freezing. But he does, and before you can ask how the fuck that’s possible, he spins around to the dresser nearby and grabs the handle jutting out of the bottom-left drawer.

How does he —?

You open your mouth to speak. The words disappear when he stands upright again, now holding out a sweatshirt from the drawer you keep them in. He’s only seen you open it once before, and the fact that he remembers is making you dizzy.

Soonyoung’s expectant eyes lock on your face, looking at you the same way he did when he handed you those burnt fucking eggs. This time, though, you don’t hesitate to accept what he’s giving you. You tug that sweatshirt over your head without missing a beat, instantly learning that it’s much bigger on you than you remember.

Stunned, you blink back at him from underneath the hood, which obscures most of your forehead. “Is this —?”

You grab the fabric from the front of it in your hands as you look down. At first glance, it looks like the million other white sweatshirts tucked into your drawer, but —

“This isn’t mine.”

Your eyes flick back up to Soonyoung, who’s fighting for his life to bite back a smile.

Six months ago, you might’ve knocked him on his ass for this, but now, you can’t keep it together, either. You crack wide open, laughing so hard that your eyes almost disappear.

“When the hell did you sneak that in there?” You wheeze, wiping tears as they spill over your lash line. The smack you land against his arm is cloaked in a sweater paw, dealing no damage except to crack him open, too. “God, I was never going to get rid of you, was I?”

Beaming, he slips his hands into the kangaroo pocket on the front and tugs you closer; you let him. “It was just in case I get cold, I swear.”

“Is that it?” You narrow your eyes playfully. “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, although you don’t believe him for a second. “It does look good on you, though. Maybe you should hang on to it.”

“To the sweatshirt?”

Watching him blush like that may never get old. Still, he maintains his bluff and nods.

“Yeah. I mean, why not? Right? It’s comfortable.” He shrugs, not even the slightest bit casually. “A cotton blend, I think. Pre-shrunk, so… It’ll — uh, never be your size, I guess. That’s — um — that’s kind of a bummer, but…”

“Soonyoung!” You cut him off with a breathless laugh, prompting him to shut his rambling mouth.

The rare use of his name seems to startle him. His eyes go wide with that typical, hopeful anticipation that he never seems to leave home without. That look hasn’t disappeared after six months of getting shot down on a weekly basis, and neither has the way he hangs onto every word you say.

This time, it might actually be what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Do you….?”

It might be a new personal record, you caving like this after holding someone at arm’s length for so long. The relief is automatic, spreading through muscle that you didn’t even realize had been aching.

“If you’re not busy, do you want to stay?”

#svt #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi smut #soonyoung smut #hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff #svt fic #svt smut #svt fluff #jade writes #re: sweatshirt season #ksy #kvanity

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nevernonline · 7 months

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can you write some svt friends to lovers texts?? (performance unit maybe??) Thank you!! 💋

hiiii ofc <3 thank you for your request. as a hoshi girly he's been on my mind sm lately.

#svt fake texts #hoshi fake texts #svt bf texts #svt smau #seventeen x reader #svt drabbles #svt texts #svt headcanons #hoshi x y/n #hoshi smau #svt imagines #svt reactions #seventeen smau #soonyoung x reader #svt fluff #svt fic #* - soonyoung texts #ksy #ask rec

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guresunya · 11 months

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HAPPY HOSHI DAY 🐯🔥

Thank you for being born, HORANGHAE always!! 🤍💫 all my luv!

#seventeenfanart #seventeen fanart #seventeen hoshi #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #seventeen #kpop fanart #svt fanart #fanart #kwon hoshi #ksy #방가방가_호랑이_호시_생일축하해 #ILUVmyHOSHIday #horanghae #artists on tumblr #digital art

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froghwon · 1 year

Photo

no thoughts, head empty ☆

#svtsource #svtcreations #svtdaily #kpopco #svt #seventeen #hoshi #dino #vicsedits #ksy #lc #did i gif this just to make the math meme joke?#yes <3 #idk what the production crew was expecting asking these 2 about trendy slang #we know these boomers wouldnt know #bc theyre old and bc i KNOW they dont have enough free time to be on the internet enough to know these things #the fact chan guessed it correctly is a new years miracle

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ksyyy505 · 3 months

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and yet <3

I have a lot of sketches with them :)

#art #digital art #my art #original character #oc art #ocs #my oc #oc #wlw #artists on tumblr #sketch #ship art #alice #ksy #ship oc #lesbian

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valenhui · 10 months

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“for old times sake” + performance unit

scenarios with svt’s performance unit based off of this post. cws: angst lmao, some angst some fluff—mainly bittersweet, non idol!au, gender-neutral!reader (no pronouns mentioned), unedited.

jun: you’re at a wedding, not yours or his, but you’re both there and almost everything is like what you both once dreamed of—but it’s not for you or him.

you saw him when he arrived hours before but only acknowledged eachother with a quick nod before resuming whatever you had been doing prior. it isnt until couples are filling the dance floor as soft music plays through the speakers that he finally approaches you. or did you approach him? perhaps you met eachother halfway, neither of you seem to really mind.

its been so long since you’ve last seen him. you had both come to the agreement that a relationship wasn’t possible. not yours at least. your paths were leading you both two separate ways and while there are—and have been—occasions where your paths briefly intertwine, it would not last. despite the mutual decision you both came to four years, you still haven’t moved on to somebody new. and with the way he held and guided you so gently out to the dance floor, it appears like he hasn’t either.

“for old times sake,” he had reasoned when you looked at him confusingly at his offer of a dance. “this was once our dream, no?”

it was. from the venue to the season down to the song for the first dance, this wedding had been what the two of you once hoped to experience at your own wedding one day. you hope in another life, somehow, the circumstances were better.

“for old times sake.” you repeat after him, allowing yourself to savour the moment instead of dwelling over what once was and what could’ve been. what’s done has been done and you both knew deep down, it wouldn’t have worked in the way you would’ve liked no matter how hard you tried. not in this life at least, so while the chance is there, you hold onto him just a little tighter—as he does to you—and lose yourself to the rhythm of what could’ve been.

hoshi: “soonyoung?” your voice is groggy from sleep, eyes barely even open as your prop yourself up on your elbow with the phone to your ear.

the line is silent for a brief moment, save for some shuffling, before you finally hear his voice. “y/n hey, did i wake you?”

if you were even half awake, you would’ve shot him a sarcastic remark but you were far too exhausted right now so you figured simply agreeing with him would be easiest.

oh how wrong you were.

when he finally ended the call with a quick “thank you so much, i’m about twenty minutes away right now. i’ll text you when i’m there.” your head hit the pillow once again and just as you were about to fall into sleeps embtace once again, his words finally registered in your mind and you nearly shot out of bed at the realization.

unfortunately for you, he was already on his way to your apartment and the guilt would eat you alive if you were to suddenly turn him down when he had called asking if he could crash at your place. tapping your phone, you groaned at the reflected time: 2:37am.

might as well get up, he’ll be here soon anyways. you thought to yourself as you slowly got up from the comfort of your bed, already missing the warmth you so desperately wanted to crawl back into.

heading to the the kitchen, you got yourself a glass of water and decided to sit by the island until you got his text. in the silence, you could hear the soft pitter patter of rain outside your window and you wondered what could’ve possibly happened for him to have called you out of all people asking to spend the night. typically you don’t crash at your ex’s place after a breakup.

i’m here! you read the text and smile as you hear the soft shuffling outside your front door.

“hey.” he greets you warmly when you open the door. his jacket is soaked but he shakes off the excess water before stepping foot into your apartment and you silently thank him for the action before closing the door behind him.

“do you need to take a shower?” you asked and he shook his head.

“it’s fine really, just need a place to spend the night. i won’t stay long, promise.” he says and you wonder if it’s the exhaustion that says it’d be fine if he did. the drawer filled with his clothes still remain anyways.

“thank you, i’ll be fine. go back to sleep, i’m sorry for waking you.” he’s gently pushing you towards the direction of your bedroom but you only move an inch before you’re turning back towards him with a small frown. “what?”

“i cant let you sleep on the couch.”

“then the ground.”

“soonyoung!”

he bites back a grin, only adding fuel to your slightly annoyance that he only finds adorable.

“come,” you give him no time to protest before grabbing his hand and guiding him towards to your room. “i’ll get you a blanket.”

he stands awkwardly by your bed after taking off a few layers, leaving him in only a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants while you rummage through your closet for a spare blanket. you hand it to him with a nod before getting back to bed, your exhausting weighing heavy as you fight sleep just long enough to watch him crawl onto the bed with you, leaving a noticeable distance between you two.

a smile makes its way to your lips but sleep seems to reach you quicker as a quiet “night soonie.” reaches his ears and despite having lived in this apartment with you some time ago, it feels awfully new now that the two of you are no longer together. everything seems unfamiliar now, yet this feels oddly nostalgic.

“y/n?” he calls softly, watching as you mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out in response. the only coherent thing he could catch was his name before you’re suddenly inching closer to him making his hold his breath.

“y/n.” he tries again to no avail, seeing as you’re now nearly curled up against his chest. despite having asked for a place to sleep for the night, he finds it difficult to even try falling asleep when his mind is struggling to process what is happening and what he should do. he didn’t want to overstep but he also feared possibly waking you up again if he tried to get you to roll back onto the opposite side of your bed.

it also didn’t help that you looked so peaceful like this.

i’ll be gone be gone before sunrise. he eventually told himself. he would be gone before you woke up and neither of you would have to worry about what happened. it would be like he was never here in the first place.

closing his eyes, he selfishly allowed himself to savour moment as your soft breaths lulled him to sleep.

“for old times sake.” he told himself. he would be home by sunrise, and the two of you would go back to being strangers.

now if only he had actually left before sunrise.

minghao: “oh my bad,” your voice startles the man sitting idly on the swing. “i thought no one would be here, i didn’t- i should go-”

he calls your name as you begin to turn around. you’ve forgotten how it sounds rolling off his tongue.

“yeah?” you turn towards him, and when you do, he’s gesturing to the empty swing seat beside him and you know deep down you should just leave, you need to get over him and while avoiding him isn’t necessarily the smartest thing, it’s easier than fighting to not fall for him all over again. but then he’s flashing you that charming smile and reasoning that it’s “for old times sake” and you find it hard to say no to him. it always has—but somehow not when he first brought up the idea of ending it. you push the thought to the back of your mind for now. and so, despite your head screaming at you to turn around and walk back home, you find yourself sitting on a swing set beside minghao as he listens to you talk about the stars up in the sky.

you were hesitant at first, only briefly making small talk before he curiously asked about a particular constellation it’s the first one you ever showed him. there’s a fond expression on his face as looks at you—distracted and all too consumed by the stars above—that hasn’t seemed to disappear even after your relationship came to an end.

he wonders, sometimes, if the stars remembered when he’d bring you to this park every night when you were younger, listening closely as you talked about whatever it was that was currently on your mind. he wonders if they remembered watching the two of you; reckless, young, but oh so inlove with one another. he wonders if they remember how many nights he's sat here, heart aching in his hands as he wished for anything that could make him yours again.

they do remember, and perhaps it is out of pity that tonight, the stars seem to shine brighter as if allow you the moment you’ve relived so many times in your youth. for old times sake.

dino: your friends weren’t good at being subtle. or at least you hoped they were trying to be subtle.

your relationship with chan had ended two years ago and despite choosing to still remain friends, it was evident that your friends seemed to believe that there was still a chance of relighting that old flame. perhaps they weren’t wrong.

“it looks like its going to be just us.” chan said when he realized that the rest of your friends had already paired up whilst in line, leaving the two of you left as the ferris wheel operator motioned for the two of you to get on. he flashed you a small smile, almost apologetic, as he extended a hand out for you to take.

glancing up at the pods your friends now occupied, you shot them a scowl before hastily taking his hand and getting into the pod of your own. his hand still in yours even after you’ve both even seated and the ride started. you didn’t notice until he readjusted his hand so that your fingers were now intertwined and you looked down at your hands in slight horror.

he simply gave you a smile before turning to look out at the shoreline. “for old times sake.” he said, referencing to your first ‘date’ where nearly the same situation had happened. the only difference between them and now was that at the top of the ferris wheel chan had finally confessed after months of claiming to be ‘just friends’. this time, he only holds onto your hand tightly, squeezing it almost reassuringly while avoiding your gaze altogether.

“chan?”

his expression was soft when he looked at you, the devotion he still holds for you practically leaking out as he hummed in acknowledgment at your call.

“nothing.” you replied, giving his hand a squeeze. he smiled in return.

for old times sake.

#valenhui writings #pu #wjh #ksy #xmh #lc #svt x reader #svt scenarios #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #minghao x reader #dino x reader #seventeen scenarios #junhui scenarios #hoshi scenarios #minghao scenarios #dino scenarios

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http97 · 2 years

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low quality hoshi in vogue korea

#hoshi #kwon soonyoung #ksy #svt #seventeen #17 #kpop #aesthetic #emo #rock #kpop aesthetic #k bg #kpop bg #kpop boy group #mine

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princess-sam · 5 months

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KSY

It's so funny (in an ironic way), I created my tumblr 10+ years ago when my first love broke my heart. Instead of texting him a million times, I would reblog posts and/or write him letters. I did the same thing when another guy broke my heart, and here I am again, but this time, I'm 32 and I'm pregnant.

I don't know what to say or do. You would think after 16 years of dating, I'd get a handle on heartbreak, but it doesn't get easier, especially as the connections get deeper. I feel so, sad. It probably does not help at all that I'm also in my last trimester. My pregnancy started off so surprising, but then exciting and so idyllic, and now it's just been so lonely. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely cannot wait to hold my baby, but how the heck can you not want to work things out with your partner (now ex) that you are expecting a baby with! I wish I could ask a magic 8 ball and it would tell me that it will all be okay. Okay, I know it will be, but it doesn't feel like it right now. I've been seeing a therapist for 2 months now, and I still feel STUCK. He says he's sad (when I actually corner him and make him talk), but he doesn't seem sad, he doesn't look sad. I know at the end of the day, I'll be thankful that this has made me stronger, and in order to get to the end, you must go through.. but UGHHHHHHH.

I must truly let go and Let God, it is sooooo hard. Pray for me y'all.

#ksy #personal #love

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carlottaragazzalove · 8 months

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Kasy💜

#australia #ksy

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raspbrrytea · 1 year

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My new icon!

Plus the sketches

#mitsuri #fan art #sketch #demon slayer #ksy #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer fanart #Mitsuri fanart #ksy mitsuri #mitsuri kanroji #Raspbrry’s Art #Raspbrry’s Fanart

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hanniedream · 1 year

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don't you just love it when...

#hoshi #ksy #mingyu #kmg #seventeen #svt

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eoieopda · 10 months

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the one with soonyoung and the domino

pairing: kwon soonyoung x afab!reader type: drabble (smut) | wc: 990 | rating: 18+ au: established relationship summary: you and your boyfriend are both prone to taking stupid bets. cw: competitive cockwarming; self-imposed orgasm denial; p in v penetration; creampie implied, i guess? lol; “petal” as a pet name because i like to suffer. a/n: feast upon my brain worms, my children. i have succumbed to delusion. 😵‍💫 ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You’re competitive.

You accept this fact about yourself. Or, rather, you acknowledge that this trait exists and do nothing — not one thing — to change it. While your therapist may ask you to dig down, to figure out why you feel you have so much to prove, you know better. The rationale is puddle deep: you simply hate to lose.

To your friends’ horror, you weren’t alone in this. You’d managed to find the one person on planet Earth who could go toe-to-toe with you and remain on his feet. Kwon Soonyoung, it seems, was tailor-made to keep your pace.

It was a blessing and a curse, loving someone equally hellbent on winning. It made you an unstoppable team at backyard sports and drinking games — downright formidable, really — but it also led to both of your mouths writing checks your asses didn’t really want to cash.

A series of bad bets, just for the sake of it.

Just like this one.

“How are you holding up, petal?”

Soonyoung sounds smug, but he’s asking through gritted teeth.

“Better than you, I think,” You respond breezily because you’re unbothered, not because your body begs for you to sigh. “Sweet of you to ask.”

He hums in response, amusement so clear that he may as well have laughed instead. Either way, you feel that vibration in your chest, which is all but pressed to his. Arms linked around his neck, you lean in closer until you can nudge the tip of his nose with yours. The tiny shift in your posture makes your breath catch in your throat, but you swallow it back.

Instead, you smirk, “Not thinking of tapping out yet, are you, baby?”

When he lifts himself up to scoot closer to the back of the couch, you know exactly what he’s up to. Shameless, you think, trying to steal territory like this. The sole consolation you get from his movement — apart from the obvious — is that he looks like he’s full of regret for his choices. You are, too, of course.

Among other things.

“Could do this all day.” He smiles his way through a bold-faced lie. His palms run up your thighs, making you shiver; but then he pats them so innocently, you want to scream instead. “‘m perfectly comfortable. I might even fall asleep like this.”

Oh, you bastard.

It kills you to do it, but you refuse to take this dishonesty sitting down — well… — so, you take back the weight you’d balanced on your bent legs and center it. Gravity grabs you by the hips, pulls you down until he has nowhere left to run. Then, like a fucking masochist, you signal every muscle in your body to tense.

To your dismay, Soonyoung cracks, but he doesn’t break. He simply mutters, “Fuck,” and squeezes his eyes shut, sucking in a breath through his teeth that he then releases with a hiss.

“Sorry, did you say something?” Eyes wide and smile coquettish, you’re ready to devastate him whenever he deigns to lift his lids. “Didn’t catch that, baby.”

As it turns out, you’re not at all prepared for the look he gives you when his eyes reopen. There’s dark, and then there’s whatever the fuck has gotten into him to make his pupils dilate like that. Involuntarily, you clench. This time, he doesn’t flinch.

“You act big and bad now,” he drawls, grinning wolfishly. “But if I blink too hard, my cock could kiss your cervix. You know that, right?” Fingers scratch lightly at the goosebumps on your thighs. He knows you know; he’s buried too deep not to. “That if I have a sudden… coughing fit, for example, I could wind up rearranging your guts?”

You do your best to ignore the way his words make your pulse race. After all, you have an endgame to focus on. Only two options remain: fight nobly and risk him winning, or take him down with you.

Fuck it.

He gave you the idea himself, didn’t he?

You sniffle for a moment, eyes flashing with mischief for even less time, and then you unwrap one arm from around his neck. With the crook of your elbow freed, you fake a sneeze; cunt clenching hard around his length while your hips jerk forward, dragging him along with you.

It was a calculated risk on your part. Unfortunately for you, you’ve never been great at math. That delicious friction is enough to grab you tight and fling you off the cliff without reservation. You tremble as you float, whole body alight with the orgasm you’d been fighting for the fifteen minutes since you sank down onto him.

Thankfully, Soonyoung isn’t any better off. He cums hard, hips jolting up to meet the underside of your thighs. Cock twitching and spilling, he groans like you’d done far more than just keep him warm. And despite the lack of physical exertion, you’re both panting — embarrassingly so.

“I fucking win,” he cheers faintly. Fist raised, weakly and triumphantly, he drops his head back against the couch. In an instant, his eyes flutter shut; he doesn’t see the way your nostrils flare.

You snort, “In what world?”

“Don’t be a sore loser, petal.” He chides you. He cracks one eye open and hits you with a lopsided grin. “I held out a full second longer.”

“You did not!” You gasp, smacking his chest with a muted thump. “The nerve of you, Soonyoung — the absolute gall!”

He flattens his mouth into a straight line. His eyes narrow the same way, unimpressed. “I only came because you did. Might’ve been a domino effect, but you fell first.”

“So, we both lost, then,” you huff, crossing your arms indignantly.

He flattens his palms against the cushion below, sits up properly, and steals a kiss from your pouty lips.

“Nah,” he hums. Unsatiated, he steals another. “Think we both won.”

On the inside, you swoon, but on the outside, you roll your eyes. “Fine. I wasn’t planning on paying up, anyway.”

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