#shuacore thoughts

[shuacore]

in a new phase. this might be super niche LMAO but i kind of wanna write a svt x f1 drabble bc all i’ve been able to consume is formula 1 content as of late. this may fall so flat . WE’LL SEE !!!!

[shuacore]

i feel like the principal from 10 things i hate about you right now writing smut while i'm on this teams call for work LMAOOOO

[shuacore]

seventeeners' random habits <3

not sure where these came from but ye! not all really nervous habits but maybe... personal habits? quirks? idk (sfw)

--

seungcheol — clenching his jaw.

seungcheol never really gets angry, but he is incredibly impatient. his temper flares easily, whether it’s over stupid drivers or not having the right ingredient to make dinner in the fridge. quick to appear, quick to fade. even if he’s not irritated anymore, seungcheol will hold his tension in his jaw, clenching his teeth so hard you’re worried he’ll do permanent damage. when you catch him with his mouth shut tight, you’ll swipe a finger under his chin–just a little touch–that breaks his concentration. his eyes will widen when he realizes how tense he’s been, and as soon as he releases his jaw you see the tension melt from the rest of his body.

jeonghan — too blunt.

he considers himself to be an honest guy, but sometimes he’s a little too honest. you’ve gotten used to the way he offers his opinions–never with ill-intent, but often straight to the point and without padding—but others usually aren’t. when he’s talking to a friend about their problems, sometimes he’ll run a message by you before sending it. he wants to be transparent all the time, but that doesn’t mean he can’t sugar coat the truth every now and then.

joshua — adjusting his clothing.

joshua cares a lot about his appearance—maybe to a fault. he has a smooth, easy demeanor out in public, but you can tell he’s nervous when his fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt or when he tries to pull it down every few seconds. readjusting his necklaces, running his fingers through his hair to make sure it lays the way it should. but joshua always looks great, so when he seems extra nervous you slide your hand down his spine to rest at the small of his back. he finds it reassuring and uses it as a reminder to just take a breath. 

jun — rambling.

jun isn’t very good at keeping quiet space. he doesn’t do it to be rude or annoying, he just has a lot to say and he likes to share with you. while it took a little getting used to, jun also brought more curiosity out of you. if you look like you’re in the middle of something he’ll ask if it’s a good time (even though sometimes he’ll still barge into your office and start talking anyway), but regardless, you’ve gotten used to the mindless chatter in the background. all jun needs every now and then is a nod to know you’re listening. 

wonwoo — jiggling his leg.

he doesn’t even realize when he’s doing it anymore. wonwoo has a lot of nervous energy, especially when he gets put in unfamiliar settings, like the first time he met your parents or when he’s meeting your coworkers. he’ll bounce his right leg so fast even while in conversation with your dinner guests or while listening intently to something your father says. you can feel the vibrations through the floor and will give him a small smile while resting your palm on his knee. it’s just a tick for him, but he knows it makes you nervous sometimes so he makes a conscious effort to reel it in as often as possible.

jihoon — insomniac.

jihoon has on and off periods of insomnia. you try to help lessen the severity by going to bed around the same time as him, and getting ready for work as quiet in the mornings as possibly so as not to wake him. over the years you’ve gotten better about recognizing potential aggravators, like lights shining through windows or noisy streets. you make an effort to keep his favorite tea stocked in the cupboards and the room as dark as possible. he appreciates all the effort, especially the nights you stay up with him despite his protests that you go back to sleep. even if you end up falling asleep on him anyway, jihoon is grateful you’re willing to try.

soonyoung — frowning.

like seungcheol, soonyoung is an intense guy. everything is all or nothing, and sometimes the expectation of perfection leaves a lot of tension in his body. more often than not his face is frozen in a frown, brow furrowed deeply. he’s not angry—sometimes he’s just concentrating. when he’s been stuck in Work Mode for too long, you’ll take your thumb and smooth it over the spot in between his eyebrows. soonyoung will smile sheepishly when he realizes he’s been glaring at the tv screen. “see? that’s better,” you’ll say as his face finally relaxes.

minghao — gets lost in thought easily.

minghao is a deep thinker and someone of few words. the times he really opens up are late at night, when the stars have blossomed and the two of you are heavy with wine and sleep. he loves to discuss huge topics about morality and relativity and history, and more often than not gets caught in his head before his mouth has a chance to catch up. usually he stops talking, voice trailing off as he works through whatever big idea is growing in his head. typically you let him work it out in his own time, or you’ll catch his attention by brushing your thumb across the back of his hand. minghao just has so many ideas sometimes he needs someone to bring him back to earth.

mingyu — picking at his skin.

mingyu is generally fidgety, but when he gets nervous his fingers find their way to his skin—his face, his arms, his hands, his knees. you have a facial expression reserved for silently telling him to stop picking. sometimes he picks his skin until he bleeds and doesn’t even realize it. on bad days the only solution is to patch him up after. you keep bandaids with silly cartoon characters on them under your bathroom sink where you can access them easily. mingyu is trying to be more mindful of when he does it, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t also love the way you press kisses to all of his injuries, too.

seokmin — humming.

for someone as musical as him, asking seokmin not to sing is like asking him not to breathe. usually it’s a lovely soundtrack as you do your daily tasks: a commercial jingle he heard on the TV as you brush your teeth and get dressed, his favorite song as you walk to the nearby grocery store, whatever’s on the radio as you make dinner. it can be a little much, however, if you’re trying to read or need to focus on a deadline for work. in those moments, seokmin is gracious enough to stay out of your way so as not to disturb you. he really tries to be quiet but it doesn’t always stick.

seungkwan — tapping.

his fingers are always moving. tapping on his knee, cracking his knuckles, scratching at the back of his neck. seungkwan always has so much energy and you have no idea where he gets it all. if he has to sit still for a while or concentrate on something, he needs to keep his fingers busy at the least. if you’re in public you’ll offer your palm for him to tap on or your leg. he likes to play with your fingers or tap patterns into the soft skin of your thigh while he talks about something else entirely. it’s a win for everyone.

vernon — nail biting.

when he’s trying to concentrate, when he’s anxious, even when he’s not thinking about anything at all, vernon bites his nails. most of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it and he’ll look at you in surprise when you point it out. you’ve tried the gross-tasting nail polish or keeping his nails clipped short, but neither worked for very long. the two of you have found the best method every time you catch him doing it is to gently tug his hand from his mouth, intertwining your fingers instead.

chan — terrible short-term memory.

he doesn’t forget things out of spite or for lack of effort, he just has a horrible memory. you’ve gotten into the habit of leaving notes around the house on bright blue post-it notes you know he can’t miss. you send him addresses to places before he has to leave because you know he’ll forget them. chan knows how exhausting it can be to constantly keep him in check, so he takes extra care to pick up on chores around the house he knows you hate. he might forget he has a dentist appointment tomorrow at 3, but if you forget to empty the dishwasher after a long day at work—fear not, lee chan has already done it.

--

lol! if anyone has any other ideas for a series of headcanons... pls send them my way i am craving more practice <3

everything else!

[shuacore]

[ 00:23 ] orange show speedway

“racing?” you asked, perplexed. 

vernon grins, showing all of his teeth, hand clutching two tickets to a race on friday. he’s wearing his brother’s letterman jacket and a pair of scuffed high top converse—the ones he always wears, but the jacket doesn’t hang on his shoulders like it used to—now it’s starting to actually fit him. he flops onto the couch next to you, and your nose is filled with the familiar scent of laundry detergent. 

“yeah. chan didn’t wanna go. so i’m taking you,” he said. the casual way he said it, like this wasn’t the closest thing he’d ever done to asking you out. you laughed nervously, rubbing your hands up and down your thighs. 

“um…sure,” you had replied, a goofy grin of your own slowly taking over your face. 

vernon beams, and when he’s happy, you’re happy. it has nothing to do with the sudden explosion of butterflies in your stomach. 

he’s your best friend after all. nothing more.

every guy at this festival has you in their eyes.

it was the middle of august. hot. sweaty. restless.

vernon holds his hand over his eyes, squinting in the sun. his hair clings to the back of his neck. you fidget nervously next to him, nails digging into your knees. 

you don’t know why you’re so aware of everything right now; the humidity thick in the air, your thighs sticking to the metal bleachers, the smell of vernon’s skin next to you—citrusy and soft. 

“oh! that one! number 25!” vernon yells suddenly, pointing excitedly as a shiny red car screeches past, engine growling as it corners the track. you turn your attention to the vehicle, pointedly ignoring his thigh touching yours, bare skin against bare skin in the summer heat, sticking. 

you nod, only half listening, as vernon rattles off more car facts, certainly not looking at the sun illuminating his features, turning his eyelashes from dark brown to gold, and the boyish grin on his face as he watches the cars go by with wide eyes. your stomach lifts and then plunges downward.

this is the vernon you lo—

“what?” he asks, and you realize with horror you’ve been staring at him, but vernon is just your best friend so it’s fine–right? it’s fine. you can admire your best friend like that, and think about how nice his features are and—

“dude, what?” 

his head is cocked to the side. his eyes look straight through you. when you fail spectacularly to offer an excuse, vernon grins. you’re dead.

we were stupid and young and i was so in love.

everything in between is hazy.

his lips had been so hot, burning on your skin, chapped and nervous as he kissed you by his car. tentative, worried about the repercussions, tasting of cherry cola and popcorn. yours were equally as hesitant, fumbling, buzzing with excitement. 

everything was hot to the touch—you, the sun in his hair, the hood of the car. 

vernon had smiled at you from under his lashes, gums and all, and you felt like your knees were going to give out. he says your name so softly, still somehow audible above the roaring of engines and the cheers of the crowd like he had spoken it right into your ear. you remember the way his brow softened as you lock eyes with him, your nerves apparent in the way you clutch his damp t-shirt in your fingers. his hands, resolute against your ribcage. surely he feels the pounding of your heart underneath them.

this feeling—the dizziness, the shortness of breath—

you tangle your fingers in the sweaty curls at the back of his neck—hair too long for the summer—as you pull vernon in again, lips pressed assuredly against his as you wreck the most important friendship you’ve ever had, crashing headfirst. 

love is the unfamiliar taste on your tongue. love is what curves your body into vernon’s swallowing his gasp as he presses you against his beat up car, hands pressed on the hood on either side of your hips. your legs slip against the metal and he catches you clumsily; you feel his teeth against your lips as he laughs into your mouth.

you were only 19. barely still teenagers and still infinitely stupid, but you had never been more sure about anything. 

i’m in the middle of the crowd and it’s like no time’s passed. 

you haven’t been home in years. 

the first place you go is the speedway. the sun beats down on the back of your neck as beads of sweat gather on your brow. you squint in the brutal afternoon light, watching intently as the cars zoom past, kicking up dust and clogging the air, and for a while it’s fine. your college roommate groans next to you, complaining about the heat and boredom and asking when can we leave? you shush them with promises of beer and karaoke.

even while looking into the clouds of dust, nose filled with the smell of burnt rubber and fake butter, it’s impossible to miss the familiar plunging feeling in your stomach. the deja vu of seeing that same red car, even so many years later. your blood runs suddenly hot. 

“why do you have that look on your face?” your roommate asks, mouth stuffed half-full of popcorn. 

a river of memories crash to the forefront of your mind, memories of oversized jackets and worn high tops. a cheeky grin and messy hair. boyish hands that gripped yours too tight. rushed kisses on beaten leather in the back of a junky car and promises breathed against skin that only teenagers who have nothing to lose could make.

you smile, cheekbones hurting. an old ache finds its home in your chest again.

“did i ever tell you about this guy i knew in high school?” 

when i’m racing head-first towards everything i want back.

[ 2:32 am ]

you: hi….. i know it’s been a while 

vern: oh wow hi

you: srry… know it’s late

this is so random

i was just at the speedway…. remember when we went in high school? i had a lot of fun 

vern: i could never forget 

[ 3:15 am ]

you: i miss u

vern: miss u too 

you: do you ever think? about what could’ve happened? 

[ 3:40 am ]

vern: i don’t think i ever stopped 

--

ot13 | masterlist

[shuacore]

hi pals 😛😛 never thought i would be back here but i saw seventeen in san antonio and i MISS THEEEEEEEM so here we are <3 immensely obsessed with vernon and dino atm…. eugh

[shuacore]

oh my goshhhhhhh i hit a follower milestone and I KNOWWWW I’M SO INACTIVE RN but i see all the support i get on my silly little pieces and it always makes me so emotional bc i love making things for other people and ANYWAY THANK YOUUUU and i am still working on things :)) so thank you for being here i appreciate u deeply 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

[shuacore]

[ 20:26 ] apes — castlecomer

"cause all i wanna do is get high with you, baby"

warnings: mature content, smut (18+), swearing

“We sh—shouldn’t do this anymore,” Vernon stutters, the sound caught deep in his chest as you slap a hand against his mouth, pushing his cheek away. The bathroom of this grimy club is just big enough for you to kneel while Vernon leans against the door, one hand on the sink, the other in his hair.

You take your mouth off his cock just long enough to mutter “shut up” before Vernon is mumbling incoherent profanities against your fingers again. His hand finds a way to the back of your head, and you make a sound of warning—don’t push your luck—before his fingers are tightening in your hair, clutching for dear life.

“Sh—Holy shit,” Vernon gasps, head jerking forward as you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, eyes gazing imploringly up at him. You drool onto the tip, forcing the excess saliva from your mouth with your lips pressed tight, until you smack his cock flat against your tongue. Vernon groans in exasperation, mumbling more things along the lines of “You’re fucking insane, you’re crazy.” Pre-cum mixes with spit; a nasty mix of fluids seeping from your mouth onto the dirty tile floor. You just smile wickedly, running your tongue along the underside of his whole length.

It’s gross in the bathroom— it smells like stale cigarettes and old urine, but there’s nothing hotter to you than sucking Vernon off in the back of some seedy establishment like a D-list pornstar.

The best thing about blowing your best-friend-with-benefits when he’s least expecting it is that sometimes he’ll even fuck you after, like some kind of sex act trade-off.

And it looks like today is your lucky day.

You lift one knee onto the tiny ceramic sink, pressing a hand to the mirror as Vernon hurriedly unzips his pants, fumbling with his boxers. Vernon pulls your panties aside under your ridiculous miniskirt, running his fingers through the folds of your cunt a few times, lubricating his cock with your arousal. You bite your lip, muffling the quiet whines that want to escape past your gritted teeth.

“You good?” Vernon mumbles, and you just nod, letting out a strangled groan as he pushes his cock into you. No foreplay. No build-up. Sex with Vernon is rough and fast—just how you like it.

“Jesus, can you relax?" he mutters, planting a hand on your shoulder to steady himself.

“Less talking—ah!—more fucking, please,” you say, as Vernon digs his fingers into your hips, thrusting harder and faster the louder you moan. You tip your head back, one arm twisting around to grip Vernon’s wrist, the other bracing against the mirror.

Thankfully the music is loud enough that it masks the lewd sounds coming from your mouths, the bass louder than the sound of skin slapping against skin. Vernon lands a smack to your ass, one after another, until your eyes are watering, fingers gripping the edge of the sink until your knuckles turn white.

Someone pounds on the door. “Hurry the fuck up!”

“Hold your piss!” you yell back, biting back a scream of pleasure as Vernon takes the chance to wind his fingers in your hair and pull. He snakes a hand around your throat, pressing on the sides of your windpipe, teeth grazing against your bare shoulder as you moan shamelessly about how good his cock is.

The great thing about fucking your best friend is that he already knows everything about you, so when Vernon flips you around on the sink to fuck you from the front, he’s already playing with your clit, watching with sick amusement as you squirm underneath him.

“I need you to stop moving so much, baby,” Vernon says, clamping a hand down on your thigh.

Usually it’s a competition to see who can hold out the longest, but Vernon looks particularly sexy today, and you’ve been exceptionally horny, so when he spits crudely on your cunt, roughly rubbing it into your clit with his thumb, it’s over.

“Fuck, just like that!” you squawk, wrapping your arms around his neck as Vernon fucks you through your rushing orgasm. The faucet digs uncomfortably into your spine as you tip your head back against the mirror, mouth dropped open while a wave of pleasure washes over you. It doesn’t take much for Vernon to come right after, sent into a spiral watching you tense while you climax, makeup streaked across your face from giving head minutes prior. You slump against the mirror, as Vernon curses under his breath.

His release is warm in your cunt, and part of you is annoyed, knowing you’d have to deal with Vernon’s cum dripping down the inside of your thighs for the rest of the night, but the other part of you is smug, because he is yours. Also because you know the thought will drive him crazy.

Vernon tips his head against your chest, fingers still wrapped around your thighs as he crashes down from his high.

“Fuck.”

The thumping of the bass is not nearly as heavy as the thumping of your heart in your skull. You tap his shoulder, pressing a quick little kiss to his cheek.

Vernon looks surprised, but he says nothing as he pulls out, grabbing a wad of toilet paper to wipe your cum off his cock. He offers you a wad of toilet paper as well, but you just smirk, winking.

“No need.” 

The look on Vernon’s face tells you this isn’t the last time you’ll be taking a bathroom break.

—

my other stuff !

[shuacore]

currently thinking about dancing with joshua in some grimy hole-in-the-wall club.

you’re just a little bit too high and the lights are flashing and smearing across your vision, like when it’s raining and you can’t quite focus on the streetlights through your windshield. it smells like stale cigarettes and cheap cologne, and you're screaming yourself hoarse over the thumping bass.

and then you see this guy sitting in the corner of the club at a table, nursing something amber in a glass, smoking a blunt. he breathes out, inhaling the smoke through his nose before exhaling again.

he watches all the dancers on the floor with dull interest like he'd rather be anywhere but here. he's wearing these atrocious leather pants and a jacket that's a size too big for him but his top is sheer and you can see everything if you concentrate hard enough.

so you walk up to him, asking if you can take a hit, and he's so intrigued by your confidence that he hands it to you without a second thought. you take a drag, frowning as the bitter taste hits your tongue. it doesn't go down smooth, and he smirks as you cough, plucking his joint from your fingers to take another hit.

but you still manage to convince him to join you on the dance floor and now he can't stop touching you, grinding your hips on his crotch, fingers digging into your waist. it's hot. it's electric.

his name is joshua. it's the only word you'll remember when he takes you home.