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I am a RICH MAN!

[aesprn]

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🎀 multifandom but focused on enha. pro-palestine blog. scorpio. fluff. angst. smut. sporadic updates. hurtcomfort. drabbles. smaus. long fics. REQUESTS: OPEN!

tag system... everything +++ asks +++ friends +++ recs +++ talking

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[aesprn]

thank u for over 400 followers! i appreciate all of you <3

[wonubug]

WHAT A FEELING ⭑

PAIRING: Boyfriend!Theo x Internet Star!Reader

SUMMARY: Your private but not secret boyfriend is a huge topic among you and your loyal fanbase!

DISCLAIMERS: strictly smau, all fluff!!!! i loved this concept sm. all pictures are not mine and are from pinterest!!!! i love it here okay. thank u.

💌 mika’s message HIIII CAN YOU HEAR ME. took a pause on a lot of my other writings bc i stumbled upon that lipstick picture on pinterest and needed to use it STAT. okay thank u. tysm for 500 followers Btw. a special ot6 thing will be out eventually in honor of it ok? Thank u. SIGHHHH. eni this one was for u too mainly ok.

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[aesprn]

high as fuck giggling at this mikachu i love u

[aesprn]

GET HIM BACK — Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN — So Unsure

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[aesprn]

GET HIM BACK — Chapter Twelve (Written)

CHAPTER TWELVE — Back to the Beginning

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authors note! hi guys im so so so so sos so sos ososossoosos sorry i abandoned this fic i was having MAJOR writers block but i finally sat down and wrote this! hope you all enjoy! (also it has taco bell bc im rlly craving taco bell)

You've changed your outfit four times.

The first is too try-hard. The second makes you look like you're going to a job interview. The third is what you wore on your 2nd date with Sunghoon, over a year ago. You only realize this after you've already put your earrings in, so you tear the whole thing off so fast you nearly pull a muscle.

The fourth outfit is fine. Just fine. That's the point.

You aren't trying to impress him. You're going because Yoonchae said some bullshit about how you need closure instead of a relationship, and because some small, stupid, traitorous part of you said yes before the sensible part of you could intervene. You're going because your therapist said sitting with discomfort is apart of the process. You're going because he knows better than to bring you to some candlelit dinner.

You repeat this to yourself on the bus ride over.

You are still repeating it when you see him waiting outside his dorm building, hands tucked in his jacket pockets, looking up at the sky like he's trying to memorize the clouds.

He looks the same. That's somehow the most unfair thing about all of this — that Park Sunghoon still looks exactly like Park Sunghoon, like nothing happened, like the last six months didn't exist. He's wearing the grey jacket you used to steal. You notice this with the calm, detached horror of someone watching a car slowly roll down a hill.

He spots you before you can compose your face into something unbothered.

"Hey," he says. Just that. Hey. Like it's easy. Like he didn't turn your whole life into a before-and-after.

"Hi," you say back, and your voice comes out mostly normal, which feels like a personal victory.

There's a beat of silence that lasts approximately one thousand years.

"You look—" he starts.

"Should we go?" you say at the same time.

He closes his mouth. Nods. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

The bookstore is the kind you like—cramped and warm, the kind where the shelves are a little too close together and everything smells like old paper and someone else's good taste. You've been here before, but not with him; this is neutral territory, which was intentional on your part even if you'd rather die than admit that.

Sunghoon is quiet at first, which surprises you. You'd been braced for the version of him that showed up in your voicemail three weeks ago—apologetic, earnest, saying your name like it was something fragile. Instead he just... browses. Pulls things off shelves. Reads the back covers with actual focus.

You drift to the poetry section because that's where you always go, and because you're not ready to be next to him yet.

You're reading the back of a Mary Oliver collection when he appears at your elbow.

"Is that good?"

You look up. He's closer than you expected. You take a half-step sideways, casual, like you were already planning to move. "I don't know yet. I'm deciding."

He nods seriously, like you've said something worth considering. Then he looks at the shelf and pulls out a thin volume with a green cover. Holds it out to you without a word.

You look at it. The Carrying, by Ada Limón.

"She writes about grief," he says. "And like, growing through it. I read it a few months ago." He pauses. "It helped."

You don't ask what were you grieving. You don't need to. You take the book from him and look at the cover for a long moment, and the silence between you is different from the one outside his dorm, less sharp. Just quiet.

"I'll get both," you say finally.

Something in his face shifts, just slightly. He puts his hands back in his pockets. "Good."

The record store is three blocks away and by the time you get there, something has loosened between you—not fixed, not even close, but less like walking on ice and more like walking on pavement that's still a little damp. You're careful, but you're not holding your breath.

Sunghoon goes straight to the jazz section. Of course he does.

You wander into indie/folk and let yourself actually look. There's something about record stores that always makes you feel a little more like yourself—the ritual of flipping through, the slight resistance of each sleeve, the weight of something physical in your hands. You find a Phoebe Bridgers record you've been meaning to get for a year and tuck it under your arm.

"Of course," Sunghoon says from behind you, and you turn to find him watching you with something that might be fondness if you were being generous. If you were being guarded, you'd call it amusement.

"What?"

"Nothing." He's trying not to smile. It's extremely annoying. "It's very you."

"That's the goal when buying music, Sunghoon. You buy music that's you."

"I know, I know." He holds up his hands. He actually is smiling now. "I'm just saying."

"What did you get?"

He shows you: a Miles Davis record and something you don't recognize with a mostly orange cover. You raise an eyebrow at the second one.

"It's a newer artist," he says, a little defensive. "Jungwon put me onto him. He's good."

"I'll believe it when I hear it."

"You could," he says, and then stops. Recalibrates. "I mean, yeah. He's good. Trust me."

You look at him for a second. He looks back. The almost-invitation sits between you, neither of you picking it up, and then you both turn back to the shelves and keep browsing, and somehow that's okay too.

Taco Bell is exactly what it should be, which is to say: bright and slightly chaotic and completely devoid of romantic pressure. You order a crunchwrap, nacho fries, and a Baja Blast. Sunghoon gets three things and then adds a fourth while you're still paying (because you insisted for some stupid reason) and you tell him that's insane and he says he's a growing boy and you laugh—actually laugh, before you can stop yourself.

You find a booth by the window. The light outside has gone golden and soft, the late afternoon doing that thing where it makes everything look a little warmer than it is. Sunghoon unwraps something and takes a truly enormous bite and you look away before you can find it endearing.

You talk. That's the part that surprises you most.

Not about the important things—not yet, maybe not today—but about books and that Miles Davis record and a podcast he's been listening to and whether the new campus library is actually better or just newer. Normal things. Easy things. The kind of conversation that used to just happen between you, effortless, and that you'd spent six months trying to convince yourself hadn't been real.

It had been real. That's the complicated part. The relationship had been real, and it had also not been enough, and both of those things can be true.

At some point the gold light shifts to something softer and you realize you've been here for almost an hour.

"I've been thinking," Sunghoon says, at a pause in the conversation. His voice is different, quieter. More careful.

You wrap your hands around your drink. "Okay."

"I'm not going to do the whole speech right now. I know you're not—I know you're not there yet. I just wanted to say that today was—" He exhales. Looks at his hands. "I know I don't get to have a good day with you like nothing happened. I know that. I'm not pretending."

You don't say anything.

"I just wanted you to know I see it," he says. "What it meant that you came. I don't take it for granted."

The golden light comes through the window and lands on the table between you. Someone behind you drops a tray and there's a brief communal wince across the restaurant and it breaks the moment just enough to make it bearable.

"I got the Ada Limón book," you say finally.

He looks up.

"I'm not... this is not me saying everything's fine," you say carefully. "I just want to be clear about that."

"I know."

"But today was." You pause. Search for the right word. "Okay. Today was okay."

Sunghoon nods slowly, like he's tucking that away somewhere. "Okay," he says, "is good."

Outside, the light goes soft and amber over the street. You finish your crunchwrap. He steals one of your chips and you let him, and neither of you say anything about it, and the silence is finally—finally—something close to easy.

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© aesprn — all rights reserved.

[heeunleash]

⋆˚࿔ reunited ── a riki nishimura oneshot

(西村 力) ── in which , you use your blocked ex's number as small reminders for yourself. until he decides to reply back.

exes to lovers : 16 sc : cursing : pics arnt mine : oneshot

masterlist || note : if popular demands of pt2 it might happen...

PERM TAGLIST : @chccnne @endoll @wonsvisuals @jungwonslover @souljisung @heedimples @nonchalantjaeyun @clearlyhoonie @wonscrchy @kookiesnkim @chaehrtsj @aesprn

[aesprn]

CUTE CUTE CUTE CUTE CUTE

[momentsofengene]

WHEN DUTY CALLS ✧ park sunghoon

pairings: neurologist!sunghoon x ob-gyn!reader

after years of being co-workers, he never reciprocated the feelings you had for him. so you buried them and learned to live with it. that is, until a small encounter leads him to start showing you that he cares.

genre: co-workers to lovers, fluff, slow burn, hospital au

word count: 12k

It's 2 am, and you're at the hospital.

Seated in the doctors' lounge, you go through your previous patients' charts, updating them one-by-one. From their vitals, medications, progress notes, everything has to be precised and double checked.

Being an OB-GYN means your life rarely follows a normal schedule.

Most nights are spent awake. On call, in delivery rooms, watching life come into the world one patient at a time. It’s exhausting, relentless… but familiar. Somewhere along the way, the chaos became routine.

You barely notice how late it’s gotten anymore.

The quiet scratch of your pen against paper is suddenly interrupted by a soft clink.

Then a cup of coffee appears beside you.

You pause, eyes shifting from the chart to the cup, then upward to the person who placed it there.

Park Sunghoon.

Four years of working in the same hospital, and he still has a way of showing up without a sound. White coat neat as ever, expression calm in that almost unreadable way of his. He works as a neurosurgeon, precise, composed, and annoyingly consistent.

“Night shift again?” he asks, already pulling a chair a few steps away before sitting down.

You lean back slightly, exhaling as you close the file in front of you. "Yeah, I wasn't able to finish these in one go so I had to switch schedules with Dr. Choi."

“I get it,” Sunghoon replies, offering a small, understanding smile. “There are days when I end up doing the same thing too.”

“Well, thanks for the coffee, I really needed this,” you say, taking a sip. You pause, then look up at him surprised. “You even remembered my order?”

Sunghoon simply purses his lips and shrugs, as if it were nothing, before reaching for his own cup. “You’re welcome.” Just as he’s about to say more, his phone vibrates.

“They need me there. I guess I’ll see you later.” He stands from his chair and lightly pats your shoulder before heading toward the door.

You glance at the cup of coffee in your hands, a small frown forming. You’d only been to the café together twice: once three months ago, and again just two weeks ago. How could he have memorized my order?

A warm feeling slowly blooms in your chest as you think about Sunghoon and his sudden thoughtfulness.

It reminds you of a time when your feelings for him were harder to ignore. Back during your first week working together, when he introduced himself as the newly hired neurosurgeon. What started as simple admiration gradually turned into something more.

Those feelings lasted for an entire year. But between the long hours, the need to stay professional, and your own reluctance to risk it all, you chose to bury them. You kept telling yourself that workplace romance should be avoided, that work always comes first, and that romance simply wasn’t worth the risk. Eventually, you convinced yourself that being nothing more than co-workers was for the best.

You shake your head, snapping yourself out of your thoughts. “Why am I suddenly thinking about the past?” you murmur under your breath. “He probably just has a really good memory.”

With that, you turn back to your work, forcing the lingering warmth in your chest to fade.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

Sunghoon, who was on his way to a patient’s room after leaving you alone in the doctors’ lounge, caught himself smiling slightly, especially when he recalled the look of surprise on your face when you realized he had remembered your order.

Back then, he hadn’t paid much attention to you. He hadn’t gone out of his way to learn the little things. Like how you took your coffee or whether you preferred something sweet on the side. But ever since that small hangout with you and a few co-workers three months ago, something had shifted. A quiet curiosity about you had begun to grow.

It wasn’t just because you were one of the best rookie OB-GYNs the hospital had seen. It was also the way you cared for others, not just your patients, but people in general.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

Three months ago…

As the rest of the group prepared to leave the café, you lingered behind, glancing at your phone as if you had just remembered something.

“I just remembered I need to buy something before I go. You guys go ahead,” you told Chaewon, your friend. She nodded, calling out a quick goodbye before catching up with the others.

Once they were gone, you stepped back towards the counter and ordered two croissants and a bottle of water. After paying, you hurried outside, scanning the area as if looking for someone.

What you didn’t realize was that Sunghoon had stayed behind. He had gone to the restroom just before everyone left, assuming he’d catch up with the group afterward.

As he stepped out and dried his hands, he paused when he spotted you still there. From inside the café, he watched as you approached a beggar and a small child sitting near the parking lot.

You crouched down to their level, handing them the food you had just bought. A gentle smile spread across your face as you spoke to them softly, though he couldn’t hear the words. After a moment, you gave a small wave before turning to leave.

Sunghoon stood there a little longer than he meant to, quietly processing what he had just seen. Something about that moment stayed with him. The sincerity, the kindness, the way you did it without expecting anything in return.

It made him realize that maybe you were more than just a co-worker he had known for years.

And somehow, from that day on, he found himself paying closer attention.

──────────────────────────────

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime, sealing you into the quiet hum of fluorescent light and mirrored steel.

You pressed your back lightly against the wall, exhaling through your nose as the display above the doors blinked from floor to floor. The senior doctor’s message still lingered in your mind: Come to my office. I need to introduce you to someone.

The elevator slowed briefly at the 5th floor, then continued upward. You checked your watch out of habit, fingers tapping once against your coat sleeve.

Just then, the doors opened with a gentle ding. You looked around to find out nobody there, until your eyes caught movement at the far end of the corridor.

A familiar figure stood just outside the elevator’s reach, hands tucked into his white coat pockets, posture relaxed in a way that somehow still looked presentable. Sunghoon.

He nods slightly when he sees you inside, stepping into the empty space beside you. He presses the button, and the elevator doors slide shut with a soft chime.

“Busy today?” he asks, breaking the silence a few seconds after stepping in.

“Not really. I just need to meet with the senior doctor.”

“Oh? How come?” he asks, a hint of surprise flashing across his face. It’s rare for either of you to be called in, usually only for major announcements or worse, bad news. So when you first read the message, you had been just as puzzled.

You shrug lightly. “I’m not entirely sure. She did mention introducing someone, though. Maybe a new employee.”

Sunghoon nods, taking that in.

“How about you?” you ask, turning to him. “Anything big happening today?”

“Actually, I have a procedure at 5 pm,” he says casually.

You instinctively glance at your watch. “That’s in thirty minutes.”

"I know." Sunghoon replied. "You don't seem like you're in a rush." You replied, noticing his chill attitude.

"Well it's a minor one. Just a lumbar puncture, won't take long." He says, seeing your expression.

“Huh… that’s your version of minor?” You mutter, brows lifting slightly as you look at him.

Sunghoon lets out a quiet breath, almost a huff of amusement, barely there. “You just get used to it.”

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Still sounds intense.”

“It’s routine,” he says simply, like that alone should settle it. And somehow, coming from him, it almost does.

The elevator hums softly as it slows, the numbers above the door blinking once before stopping.

Your floor.

The doors slide open.

You hesitate for only a second, then shift your weight forward, stepping out into the hallway. Before fully turning away, you glance back at him.

“Good luck, Sunghoon.”

He meets your gaze, calm as ever. “I don't need it.”

That almost makes you scoff, but instead you just exhale a small laugh. “Still, good luck.”

The doors begin to close behind you.

And just before they shut completely, you catch it, the smallest hint of a smile on his face, gone just as quickly as it appears.

You walk straight to the end of the hallway, where the senior doctor’s office is located.

Stopping in front of the door, you knock three times. A voice from inside calls, “Come in.”

Taking the cue, you twist the doorknob open and step inside. Dr. Lim stands near her desk, a folder in hand. Beside her is a young man with sharp, cat-like eyes, standing straight with quiet composure.

You close the door behind you and walk toward them.

“Dr. Kang,” the senior doctor says, closing the file in her hand, “This is Jungwon, a newly assigned resident. He’ll be rotating in OB-GYN under your supervision.”

You turn your attention to him just as he steps forward, extending his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Dr. Kang.”

You shake his hand without hesitation, offering a small, welcoming smile. “Nice to meet you too, Jungwon. Welcome to the OB-GYN department.”

He smiles back, his expression calm and professional, no trace of nervousness in sight.

“Alright,” Dr. Lim continues smoothly, already reaching for another document on her desk. “Jungwon, you’ll report to Dr. Kang starting today. She’ll orient you with the ward and your responsibilities.”

Jungwon nods. “Understood, ma’am.”

The senior doctor looks up once more, this time addressing both of you. “OB-GYN is a demanding department. I expect discipline and clear communication. Dr. Kang, he’s your responsibility during this rotation.”

You give a small nod in acknowledgment.

Dr. Lim leans back slightly, signaling the end of the meeting. “Now that’s settled. You may go.”

You turn first, straightening your posture as you head for the door. Jungwon follows a step behind, attentive.

Once you’re outside in the hallway, you turn to face him.

“First things first,” you say, folding your arms lightly. “Call me by my first name, Y/N. No ‘Dr. Kang.’ It makes me feel older than I am.”

Jungwon lets out a small chuckle. “Got it. Y/N it is.”

“As Dr. Lim mentioned, I’ll be your supervisor for the duration of your rotation in OB-GYN,” you continue. “Since it’s your first day, I’ll give you a quick tour of the facilities so you can start familiarizing yourself.”

You gesture forward. “Let’s go.”

The two of you head towards the elevator. “The OB-GYN department is on the third floor,” you add, pressing the button.

When the doors open, you’re greeted by the nurses’ station. The nurses on duty look up from their desks.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Kang,” they greet in unison.

“Good afternoon,” you reply with a polite nod before turning slightly to Jungwon. “This is Jungwon, our new resident. He’ll be working here starting today.”

Jungwon smiles and greets them, and they return the gesture warmly.

You lead him down the left hallway lined with patient rooms. “This is where admitted patients stay, postpartum mothers, as well as those recovering from surgery,” you explain. “The rooms along the right hallway are mainly for regular check-ups and consultations.”

“And over here…” you continue, walking towards the far end where a large door with glass panels stands. “…is the Labor, Delivery, and Recovery Room. LDR for short.”

You push the door open just enough to step inside and the shift is immediate.

A strained breath cuts through the air, followed by a low cry. A patient grips the bed rails, her knuckles pale, while a nurse guides her breathing with steady reassurance.

“Active labor,” you say calmly as you step further in. “This is where things start to pick up.”

Jungwon stays close behind you, noticeably quieter now, his eyes taking everything in.

A monitor beside the bed beeps steadily, then suddenly dips. The nurse straightens. “Doctor, heart rate’s dropping.”

Before the tour can even pause, you’re already moving.

“Position her to the left,” you instruct, your tone calm but firm. “Give her oxygen.” The room shifts instantly, quick hands, precise movements, controlled urgency.

The patient gasps, her eyes squeezed shut as another contraction hits. You glance at the monitor. Then steady again, as the beeping evens out.

“Good,” you murmur, stepping back as if it were second nature. “Keep monitoring.”

“Yes, doctor.”

The tension doesn’t disappear, but it eases just enough. You turn back to Jungwon, your expression composed.

“It can change that fast,” you say simply. “You learn to respond before it becomes a problem.”

He nods, still processing what he just witnessed.

“Come on,” you add, already heading for the door. “Let’s continue.”

“On the opposite end,” you say, pointing down the hallway, “is the operating room.”

You walk in that direction, with Jungwon following closely behind.

You push the operating room doors open, and a wave of sterile, cool air greets you as you step inside.

Bright overhead lights reflect off stainless steel instruments neatly arranged on trays. The operating table sits at the center, surrounded by monitors and machines humming quietly in the background.

“Procedures like cesarean sections and gynecologic surgeries are done here,” you explain, your voice steady as it echoes slightly in the room. “And when things don’t go as planned…”

You pause for a brief moment, your gaze flicking toward the operating table.

“…that is where we take over.”

ᯓ★ ݁˖

The tour continues as you guide Jungwon through the rest of the facility, from the ultrasound rooms to the examination areas, and finally to the newborn units. You explain each section with ease, answering his occasional questions, barely noticing how quickly time slips by.

It isn’t until you glance at your watch that you pause.

“Oh, it’s already 6 pm,” you say, a little surprised. “Perfect timing. My shift ends now, and since I’ve already shown you around the entire OB-GYN department, we can both head home.”

“Wait, really?” Jungwon asks, clearly caught off guard.

You nod. “Yes. Once I leave, there won’t be anyone to supervise you anyway. And since it’s your first day, I’ll let you off early this time. Your real work starts tomorrow.”

“Ah…” Jungwon exhales in relief, a small grin forming. “I’ll be ready by then,” he assures you, determination settling into his expression.

“Good to hear,” you reply with a faint smile. “Well, I’ll get going now. See you tomorrow, Jungwon.”

“See you, Doc,” he says.

You give him a small wave before leaving.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

After gathering your things, you take the elevator down to the underground parking area. The space is quieter now, the hum of engines and distant footsteps echoing faintly. You spot your car a short distance away and walk towards it, pressing your key fob to unlock it.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you place your bag on the passenger side and reach for the ignition.

You turn the key.

Click.

Nothing.

You try again.

Click. Click.

The engine doesn’t turn over.

A faint frown forms as you attempt a few more times, but the sound only grows weaker until the car falls completely silent and unresponsive.

"Unbelievable,” you mutter, letting your forehead rest briefly against the steering wheel.

You sigh, leaning back as frustration settles in. Your eyes drift to your bag beside you.

“How am I supposed to go home now...”

ᯓ★ ݁˖

A few minutes later, you find yourself standing outside the hospital entrance, arms folded loosely as you scan the road.

You decided to take a cab instead, but even after waiting for several minutes, none stop. The few that passed by are already occupied, their headlights briefly illuminating you before disappearing down the street.

You shift your weight, glancing down the road again, hoping the next one will finally be empty.

Then, a sleek silver BMW pulls up in front of you, the engine purring softly as the window rolls down.

You look over to see who it is.

Sunghoon sits behind the wheel, one hand resting loosely on it while the other drapes over the passenger seat’s headrest, his posture relaxed.

“Need a ride home?” he asks.

“I—”

Before you can even answer, he leans over and pushes the passenger door open. That leaves you with little room to refuse.

You step in, closing the door gently behind you.

Settling into the passenger seat, you sit a little stiffly, your gaze fixed on the window beside you.

It’s your first time riding in a car alone with him, something you never really imagined would happen. And not just any car, but his.

For a moment, the air inside feels thick with unspoken tension. Neither of you says anything, the quiet stretching just a bit too long.

After a while, Sunghoon clears his throat, breaking the silence. “So… what happened to your car?”

You turn slightly to look at him. “The battery died. I’ve been so busy these past few weeks that I forgot to get it replaced.”

“I see.” He nods once. “How long were you waiting out there?”

“About twenty minutes,” you reply.

“Good thing I saw you then,” he says, a faint chuckle slipping through. “You looked like you were about to lose your patience.”

You let out a small laugh. “Honestly, I was. And thank you, by the way. If you hadn’t shown up, I probably would’ve ended up walking home.”

That earns another quiet hum of amusement from him.

After that, the conversation fades, but this time, the silence feels different. Softer. Easier. The low hum of the engine and the faint music playing on the radio fill the space comfortably.

For once, it isn’t awkward.

The car slows to a stop at a red light. Sunghoon glances your way, his expression unreadable but calm. “You hungry?”

“I think I’m good,” you reply, but almost immediately, your stomach betrays you with a low rumble. Shit.

You freeze for a second, suddenly remembering that you skipped lunch earlier, too distracted and a little too nervous about the senior doctor’s message.

Sunghoon lets out a quiet laugh at the sound. “Let’s grab something to eat,” he says, already easing his foot back on the gas as the light turns green. “My treat.”

You don’t argue.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

A few minutes later, you find yourselves at a casual Italian fast-food restaurant. The warm lighting and soft chatter from other customers make the place feel cozy despite the rush hour.

You scan the area and spot a small booth tucked into the corner. “There,” you say, heading towards it.

You slide into the seat while Sunghoon remains standing beside the table. “What would you like to eat?” he asks.

“I think pasta’s fine,” you answer.

He nods. “Alright. I’ll order for us. Just wait here, okay?”

“Okay.”

You watch as he walks toward the counter, joining the short line. For a moment, you find yourself absentmindedly observing him the way he stands, calm and composed even in something as simple as ordering food.

A few minutes later, he returns carrying a tray.

He sets a plate of pasta in front of you, his lasagna beside it, then hands you your drink.

“And this one’s for you,” he adds, placing a slice of pizza next to your plate.

You blink, confused. “I didn’t order that.”

He sits across from you, completely unfazed. “I did. I figured the pasta wouldn’t be enough since you’re hungry.”

You cough lightly, feeling your cheeks warm. “Oh… uh, thank you.”

You start eating, your gaze fixed anywhere but him. Somehow, the earlier ease from the car ride has shifted again, replaced by a quiet, awkward tension.

You never really imagined this. Sitting across from him, sharing a meal like this. It almost feels unreal, like something out of place in your usual routine.

You can feel his gaze on you, subtle but unmistakable.

“What happened with the senior doctor earlier?” he asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You look up, surprised, but your shoulders relax now that the conversation has shifted. “She introduced me to a new resident,” you explain. “He’ll be under my supervision.”

Sunghoon nods, taking a bite of his food.

“His name’s Jungwon,” you continue, twirling your pasta with your fork. “From what I’ve seen so far, he has potential. He wasn’t nervous at all, even when we went to the LDR earlier.”

“That’s good,” Sunghoon says. “At least he seems passionate from the start.”

You nod, but then the thought that’s been lingering in your mind resurfaces. You hesitate just for a second before speaking.

“Sunghoon… can I ask you something?” He looks up. “Sure.”

“Not to sound rude or anything, but why are you suddenly talking to me?” you ask, your voice softer now. “I mean… we’ve been co-workers for four years, and this is the first time you’ve bought me coffee or talked to me for more than ten minutes.”

For a brief moment, he looks genuinely caught off guard. His eyes widen slightly, and a faint blush creeps up to his ears as he scratches the back of his neck. “That’s… uh…”

"I just thought that I've been so shy these past years that I don't get to socialize with my co-workers that much. You know, I just recently became close with that dermatologist, Kim Sunoo." He replied.

You nodded, a small smile forming. “That’s good to hear. I remember you skipped the Christmas party for two years straight. It’s nice to see you stepping out of your comfort zone.”

He smiles back. “I guess it is.”

The conversation drifts into something lighter after that, and before you realize it, dinner is over.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

Soon enough, you’re back in his car, this time parked in front of your apartment building.

You unbuckle your seatbelt, turning slightly towards him. “Thank you for the ride, Sunghoon. And for the food.”

He smiles softly. “Don’t mention it. If you ever need a ride home, you can just call me.”

You stopped. “But… I don’t have your number.”

“Here.” He unlocks his phone and hands it to you. You take it, typing your number into his contacts before handing it back. “There.”

You step out of the car, the cool night air brushing against your skin. “Goodnight, Sunghoon,” you say, closing the door halfway and then you heard him speak, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You pause for just a moment before shutting the door completely, the sound echoing softly in the quiet street.

Later that night, as you lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind drifts back to everything that happened.

The coffee. The car ride. Dinner.

Him.

Your heart beats a little faster, your cheeks warming at the memories.

Those feelings you buried years ago? They’re being dug up by none other than Park Sunghoon himself.

──────────────────────────────

Three weeks after that dinner with Sunghoon, the two of you have grown noticeably more comfortable around each other. He even picked you up from your apartment the morning after that night, insisting so you wouldn’t have to take the subway to work.

And now, you’re back in the thick of it. Endless patients, heavy workloads, night shifts, deadlines, and back-to-back surgeries taking up most of your time.

“Doc, I’m done with my rounds for now,” Jungwon says, appearing beside you while you’re busy taking a patient’s blood pressure.

You finish up, offering the patient a small reassuring smile before noting down the readings on the chart.

“Good,” you say, turning to him. “I want you to check on Baby Jung in the newborn unit. When I assessed the baby earlier this morning, the condition was a bit unstable. If that continues, report back to me so we’ll coordinate with the Pediatrics Department.”

“You got it.” Jungwon gives a quick salute before turning to leave.

“Oh, and Jungwon,” you call out just as he’s a few steps away. “Don’t forget the dessert you promised me for lunch.”

He chuckles, glancing back. “Of course, Doc. See you at the cafeteria later.”

Over the past three weeks, you and Jungwon have also grown closer, spending nearly every day working side by side. You’re grateful to have someone to share the hectic schedules and overwhelming workload with as it makes everything feel just a little lighter.

You grab the clipboard with your patient records and head towards the elevator. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out, about to read the message but you bumped into someone.

The impact causes the clipboard to slip from your hands, papers scattering across the floor.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry!” a voice says quickly.

You crouch down to gather the papers, the other person doing the same.

As you pick them up and glance up, a nurse you don’t recognize hands you a few sheets. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” you reply, standing up.

“I’m really sorry again, Doctor…” Her eyes flicker to your coat, reading the name stitched onto it. “…Kang.”

You shake your head lightly. “It’s okay. I wasn’t looking either. It’s partly my fault.”

You pause for a moment, studying her. “By the way, what’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

She smiles sweetly. “I’m Jang Wonyoung. I just started working here yesterday.”

“Well, it’s nice meeting you, Wonyoung,” you say with a friendly smile. “Sorry our first meeting had to be like this.”

“That’s alright,” she replies. “Have a nice day, Dr. Kang.”

She gives a small wave before heading off.

You continue towards the elevator and pressed the button. While waiting, you check your phone and read Jungwon’s message. He mentions that the newborn unit is a bit crowded with nurses and a few parents, and that he’ll update you once he gets inside.

Ding.

The elevator doors open.

You look up and see Sunghoon inside.

A smile forms on your lips as you step in, slipping your phone back into your pocket.

“Funny how we always run into each other at the elevator,” you say, turning to him.

“It is,” he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Maybe I should start charging you for getting to see a handsome face like mine every time the doors open.”

You let out a laugh, and he joins in, the sound light and easy between you.

“Anyway,” he continues once the laughter fades. “Where are you planning to eat lunch? Sunoo and a friend of mine are trying out a newly opened restaurant nearby. Want to join us?”

“I’d love to,” you say, “but Jungwon and I already made plans, and he’s treating me to dessert, so I can’t really say no to that.” You nudge his side playfully.

“Ah, I see.” He nods, though you can’t help but notice the slight disappointment in his tone. “Maybe next time.”

“Definitely next time,” you reply.

The elevator doors slide open at your floor.

You step out, then glance back at him. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

And with that, you walk away, unaware of the way his gaze lingers on you just a second longer than usual.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

Lunchtime arrives, and you’ve been sitting there for almost an hour.

Your plate is already empty, your drink long finished, and yet there’s still no sign of Jungwon or the dessert he promised.

You let out a quiet sigh, resting your cheek against your palm as you glance towards the cafeteria doors. Maybe I should’ve just gone with Sunghoon instead…

Just as the thought crosses your mind, the doors swing open and Jungwon rushes in, scanning the room before spotting you.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry I’m late, a patient was—” He’s panting so hard he can’t even finish his sentence.

“Woah, hey. Sit down first,” you say quickly.

He does as told, and you hand him your spare bottle of water. He takes it immediately, drinking it down in one go.

Once he’s done, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks at you apologetically. “I really wanted to come earlier, but a patient asked me to stay with her until her husband arrived. I didn’t expect it to take that long… if I had known, I wouldn’t have stayed.”

You nod, your expression softening. “It’s okay. I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Did you at least eat lunch?” you ask.

“I did,” he replies. “The patient felt bad for making me wait, so she gave me some food.”

“Then I guess that leaves us with dessert,” you say, pointing lightly at him. “Now go get me that dessert you promised.”

Jungwon stands up immediately and heads to the counter.

A few minutes later, he returns, but this time, there’s a slight frown on his face.

“They ran out,” he says. “I guess it’s my fault for getting here late.”

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “So… what are we supposed to have for dessert now?”

Jungwon pauses, thinking for a moment before his expression brightens. “I know a place. Come with me.”

A short while later, the two of you find yourselves standing in front of a gelato shop in town.

“I come here whenever I’m craving something sweet,” Jungwon says, a hint of excitement in his voice. “They make the best gelato.”

He steps ahead of you, holding the door open.

“You’re really serious about this gelato, huh?” you tease with a small laugh.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

Across the street, inside the newly opened restaurant, Sunghoon sits with Sunoo and Jay.

“Is that Y/N?” Sunoo suddenly says, pointing towards the window.

Sunghoon’s attention shifts instantly, his gaze following the direction.

Outside, he sees you with Jungwon.

“She’s with the resident,” Sunoo adds, still watching.

“They seem close,” Jay comments casually. “Maybe a little too close. I can’t even remember the last time I became friends with a resident.”

Sunoo gasps softly, covering his mouth. “Right? I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

Sunghoon’s grip on his fork tightens slightly as he listens, his eyes still fixed on the scene outside. On the way Jungwon holds the door open for you and the way you laugh.

“Do you think maybe they’re—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Sunghoon cuts in, his tone sharper than usual. “Can we just eat in peace and not start rumors?”

Sunoo scoffs, side-eyeing him. “Geez. I was just saying.”

Sunghoon then goes back to eating, but the air at the table has shifted.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

After finishing your gelato, you and Jungwon stepped outside.

Just as you’re about to leave, you spot Sunoo approaching the shop.

You wave at him, and he waves back enthusiastically, a grin spreading across his face.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Getting dessert,” he replies. “Do they have mint chocolate here?”

“Yeah they have tons of flavors, actually. I think you’ll like all of them,” you say with a small laugh.

“Really?” Sunoo’s eyes light up. “I can’t wait!”

He practically skips toward the entrance.

Moments later, Sunghoon and Jay approach.

“Hi,” you greet as they stop in front of you.

“Hello,” Jay replies, glancing inside. “Is Sunoo in there?” You nodded.

“I’ll see if there's a flavor I like,” he says, turning to Sunghoon. “You want anything?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “I’m good.”

Jay heads inside, leaving the two of you and Jungwon, who has just stepped beside you in an awkward silence.

“Hey,” you say to Sunghoon, but this time, something feels off.

He just nods. No smile. No teasing remark.

Jungwon shifts slightly beside you, and Sunghoon’s gaze flickers toward him, sharp, assessing.

“Right,” you say, trying to ease the tension. “Jungwon, this is Dr. Park Sunghoon, my friend.”

You gesture towards Jungwon. “And Sunghoon, this is Jungwon, the resident I told you about.”

Jungwon immediately extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Park.”

For a second, Sunghoon just stares at it, his thick brows slightly furrowed.

You clear your throat softly. Only then does Sunghoon take his hand, briefly.

“Uh huh,” he mutters.

Jungwon withdraws his hand, the smile on his face still polite, though a little uncertain now.

Just then, Sunoo and Jay return. With Sunoo holding his three scoops of mint chocolate chip gelato.

“Let’s head back,” Jay says. “Lunch break’s almost over.”

The five of you began walking back towards the hospital. Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jay walked ahead, while you and Jungwon trail slightly behind.

“Jungwon… I’m sorry about that,” you say quietly. “Sunghoon isn’t usually like that. I don’t know what got into him.”

“It’s okay,” Jungwon replies, giving you a reassuring smile. “Maybe he just had a bad day.”

“Still… I’ll talk to him.” Before he could respond, you jogged forward.

“Sunghoon,” you call.

No response.

You try again.

Still nothing.

You frown slightly before reaching out and poking his side.

He flinches, finally turning to look at you. “What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening, so I had to resort to that,” you say, pouting slightly. His expression softens just a bit.

“…Sorry. What did you want to say?” He asks as you crossed your arms. “Why were you rude to Jungwon earlier? The kid was just trying to introduce himself.”

“I wasn’t,” he replied, looking away.

“You were,” you insist. “What’s wrong? Are you upset because I didn’t join you for lunch?”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes as he looks back at you.

“No,” he says quickly. “It’s not that. A waiter messed up my order earlier, so I didn’t really enjoy the meal,” he lied, his voice a little too fast, as if he’s trying to convince both you and himself.

“Oh… that sucks,” you say, your tone softening. “So you really just had a bad day.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. His ears tint slightly red.

“You should leave them a bad review,” you say lightly. “They don’t deserve all that hype.”

A faint smile tugs at his lips. “Maybe I should.”

──────────────────────────────

It was now time for the yearly medical mission, this time held in Gangwon Province.

Early in the morning, before the sun had fully risen, doctors were already gathered at the back of the hospital, loading supplies into vans. The atmosphere was focused, everyone moving with practiced efficiency.

Once you finished loading your things into the vehicle, the senior doctor, Ms. Lim, arrived to announce the car assignments. Most of the staff, doctors and nurses alike were placed in the larger vans, while only three were assigned to the smaller car.

That included you, Chaewon, and a pharmacist.

“We better get moving. The drive will take two to three hours, and I don’t want us arriving late,” Ms. Lim said as everyone began heading toward their assigned vehicles.

You stepped into the small car first, with Chaewon following right after. “Great, seatmates,” you said lightly, earning a smile from her as she settled beside you. The pharmacist sat in the front passenger seat, next to the driver.

Even with only four people inside, the space felt slightly cramped, with a few supplies stacked behind your seats, signaling the long drive ahead.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

You arrived in Gangwon Province after two and a half hours.

You stretched your arms as soon as you stepped out of the car. “Finally, we’re here,” you said, glancing at Chaewon beside you.

“Look at the view,” she pointed out.

Ahead of you, mountains covered in green stretched into the distance, the early sunlight rising over them and casting a soft glow across the landscape. The air was noticeably cooler and cleaner, a quiet reminder that you were far from the city now.

Around you, doctors and staff had already started unloading supplies from the vehicles. You moved towards the car again and joined in, helping carry boxes as the medical mission was about to start.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

The medical mission is taking place at a public school gym that is converted into a temporary clinic.

Folding tables are set up in sections for each department, with simple privacy screens dividing consultation areas. Nurses move between stations guiding patients, while rows of chairs line the sides of the gym for those waiting their turn.

You sat at a small table marked for OB-GYN consultations, flipping through charts as a line of patients steadily forms in front of you, the hum of the makeshift clinic filling the space around you.

The check-up began smoothly, most patients were cooperative, listening attentively as you gave instructions and advice. Those who needed minor procedures were guided to the adjacent room for outpatient care, while you stayed at your station, calmly writing prescriptions and updating charts.

From across the space, Sunghoon sat at a parallel table, his gaze occasionally lifting towards you. He observed the way you spoke to each patient, reassuring and always gentle in tone, together with the soft smile you gave even in the middle of a busy line.

“Man, you gotta stop staring at her. There are patients on their way,” Jay said quietly from beside him.

“I— I wasn’t staring,” Sunghoon replied immediately, shifting his attention to the neatly arranged supplies in front of him, pretending to align them even though they were already perfectly in order. “Just… observing.”

Jay let out a small hum of disbelief. “Whatever you say.”

ᯓ★ ݁˖

Lunchtime came, with your team providing free food for all the attendees. A long line formed as patients waited for their meals, the gym still buzzing with quiet conversation and movement.

You sat at the table assigned for the doctors, with Sunghoon taking the empty seat beside you.

“Hi,” you greeted as he greeted back.

“How’s the consultation so far? I saw there are a lot of patients in your area,” he asked as he started eating.

“It’s going well. I haven’t had this much fun in a while,” you admitted, earning a small nod from him.

“Good to hear you’re enjoying it,” he said simply.

“I am,” you continued. “It’s always a pleasure helping people.”

The conversation flowed easily as you both ate. When you finished your meal, you reached for the brownie included in the tray, but Sunghoon stopped you.

“Don’t.” You looked up at him, confused.

“It has nuts,” Sunghoon added.

“Oh,” you blinked, then set it back down. “Right.”

A beat passed before you asked, “How did you know I’m allergic to peanuts?”

He cleared his throat, looking down at his food. “I saw you separate the nuts when you were eating that salad last week. And I've seen the EpiPen you always carry in your pocket.”

You stared at him for a second longer than intended, your chest tightening.

“You noticed that?”

He gave a small shrug. “It’s hard not to.”

A quiet warmth settled in your chest, though you kept your expression calm. “Well… thank you for warning me.”

You glanced back at the brownie, then sighed softly. “But it feels like a waste to just leave it.”

Before you could say more, Sunghoon reached over and took it from your plate.

“Always so considerate,” he said, before taking a bite himself.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

It was already night by the time the medical mission ended.

Everyone looked exhausted, evident in the way people moved slower than usual, taking their time packing up supplies. The once busy area had quieted down, replaced by tired chatter and the occasional sigh.

You grabbed your things and made your way to the car, opening the trunk.

“Here, I got it.”

Before you could protest, Sunghoon had already taken the supplies from your hands and placed them neatly inside.

“Thanks,” you say, watching as he closes the trunk.

Just then, Chaewon comes rushing over, slightly out of breath. “Y/N, I asked Ms. Lim earlier if I could transfer to the van since I felt claustrophobic in the smaller car. She said I could, but only if someone switched places with me. I tried asking around, but no one wants to,” she groans, squeezing your hands in mild panic.

You give her a sympathetic look. “Chae, maybe we can—”

“I’ll switch seats with you.”

Both of you turn as Sunghoon speaks up, having clearly overheard the conversation.

“You would?” Chaewon asks, her face lighting up.

He gives a small nod. “Yeah.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you!” she squeals, then quickly turns back to you. “But Y/N, is it okay if I’m not your seatmate anymore?”

You smile softly. “It’s fine. I know how much you hate small spaces.”

Chaewon beams before pulling you into a quick hug. “Thank you, Y/N. You’re the best.”

“Everyone, let’s go!” Ms. Lim calls out.

“I have to go, see you at the hospital!” Chaewon says, waving as she hurries off.

You wave back before heading to the car. You slide into your seat, and a moment later, Sunghoon follows, settling beside you.

“She’s right,” he mutters, shifting slightly. “It is cramped in here.”

Your shoulders brush against his from how little space there is.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “We just have to endure it for two and a half hours.”

ᯓ★ ݁˖

The car ride begins, the hum of the engine blending with the low chatter of others. You pull out your phone, texting Jungwon about updates from the hospital. The screen blurs slightly as you blink slowly, fatigue catching up to you.

You let out a quiet yawn while waiting for his reply, your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

“Tired?” Sunghoon asks softly from beside you.

“Mm,” you hum in response, too drained to form a proper sentence.

“You should get some sleep,” he says. “I’ll wake you up when we arrive.”

"Maybe I should.”

You lean your head against the window, eyes slowly closing as the gentle motion of the car puts you to sleep.

A few minutes pass.

Sunghoon glances at you, noticing the way your head keeps tilting awkwardly against the glass, your body shifting uncomfortably with every bump on the road.

Carefully, he moves a little closer.

Slowly, so carefully you don’t wake, he lifts a hand and gently guides your head away from the window, letting it rest against his shoulder instead.

“There…” he whispers softly.

Your head settles against him, your breathing evening out as you remain asleep, now in a far more comfortable position.

He stays still, not wanting to disturb you. But as the quiet of the ride settles in, he begins to feel his own exhaustion creeping in.

His eyes flutter shut.

And soon enough, he falls asleep too.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Sunoo, who had already taken the front seat earlier, insisting he wanted to ride shotgun instead of being stuck in the back with the supplies on the van, was quietly watching a movie on his phone.

At some point, he glanced up from his screen and caught a glimpse of the back seat through the rearview mirror.

His brows lifted slightly.

He shifted in his seat and turned just enough to look behind him directly.

There you were, fast asleep, your head resting gently on Sunghoon’s shoulder.

And Sunghoon, also asleep, his head slightly tilted toward yours.

A slow, mischievous grin spread across Sunoo’s face.

He paused his movie and casually raised his phone, snapping a photo of the two of you, clearly entertained.

“Interesting…” he muttered under his breath before returning his attention to the screen, as if nothing had happened.

──────────────────────────────

The morning two days after, you step out of the elevator, heading towards the doctors’ lounge, only to stop in your tracks.

A few feet ahead, you spot Sunghoon walking out of the operating room. He’s in the middle of removing his surgical gown and cap, his hair slightly disheveled as he runs a hand through it to fix it.

For a moment, you just watch him.

You were about to walk over, maybe ask how the surgery went when someone beats you to it.

“Doctor.”

You glance over.

It’s the nurse you met before, Wonyoung.

“How was the surgery?” she asks, her voice softer than usual.

“It was fine,” Sunghoon replies.

“Of course it went well. You’re good at what you do,” she says, stepping a little closer than necessary. “Do you need help with anything, Dr. Park? I can assist you in cleaning up.”

Before he can respond, she reaches out, noticing his collar slightly crooked from removing his surgical gown and fixes it herself.

You freeze.

For a second, you can’t quite believe what you’re seeing. Your lips part slightly as you watch the interaction unfold, something uneasy settling in your chest.

She’s clearly flirting.

You wait, expecting Sunghoon to step back, to say something, to at least react.

But he doesn’t.

He just stands there, looking at her, almost as if he’s momentarily zoned out.

Something about that makes your chest tighten.

“Tsk.” You crossed your arms and turn away, not bothering to watch any longer.

Your steps are quicker now as you head straight to the doctors’ lounge, pushing the door open a little harder than necessary.

The sudden noise makes Jungwon look up from his laptop, slightly startled. “Y/N?” he says.

You pause, then let out a small breath. “Jungwon. I didn’t know you were here.”

“I’m just working on a report,” he replies, closing his laptop halfway. “What’s up? You look a little… irritated.”

You sit down beside him, crossing your arms as you lean back.

“Jungwon, do you know that newly hired nurse? The tall one who looks more like a supermodel than a nurse?”

He turns his chair toward you, giving you his full attention. His brows knit slightly as he thinks. “Nurse Wonyoung?”

“Yes, her,” you say quickly. “I just saw her flirting with Sunghoon out there. Can you believe that? A nurse who’s barely been here a month, hitting on a doctor?”

Jungwon lets out a small chuckle once you finish.

“Yeah, I believe you,” he says. “You don’t usually get this worked up over something small.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means…” he leans back a bit, a teasing glint in his eyes, “you sound jealous.”

“Jealous?” you repeat, almost scoffing. “Of course not. He's my friend and I’m just looking out for him. You know it’s against company rules to date someone new.”

You can feel the warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“…Yeah right,” Jungwon says, clearly unconvinced.

You quickly stood up, not wanting to entertain his teasing any further. “Whatever. I’m going to grab something to eat.”

“Alright, Doc,” Jungwon says with a small teasing grin as you head for the door.

You walk down the hallway, your gaze lowered as you fumble through the pockets of your coat, searching for some cash. Distracted, you don’t notice where you’re going and end up bumping into someone.

It’s Sunghoon.

Your expression shifts almost instantly, your mood dropping the moment you realize it’s him.

“Where are you heading?” he asks, one brow slightly raised.

“Just going to buy some food,” you reply.

“Want me to come with you?” he offers.

“I’m fine,” you say a little too quickly. “I can manage on my own. Besides, I have a hysterectomy scheduled after this. I need to get back right away.”

The lie slips out easily, even though you know the surgery isn’t for another hour.

“Okay… just don’t forget to—”

You don’t let him finish.

You walked past him without another word, your steps just a little faster than before, the image of what you saw earlier still lingering stubbornly in your mind.

Maybe it was better to avoid him and push those resurfacing feelings back down. So that in the end, you wouldn’t end up getting hurt.

──────────────────────────────

The next few weeks stayed the same, you avoided Sunghoon as much as you could.

You grew distant. Conversations were cut short, small talk nonexistent, and every interaction between you was kept strictly professional.

It felt like the friendship you built with him had never existed at all, as you treated him the same way you had for years before.

“Working the night shift again?” He asked as you were waiting for your coffee at the vending machine.

You froze for a split second at the sound of his voice behind you, but quickly composed yourself.

“Yeah.”

The cup dropped into the slot. You took it without looking at him as you walked past him.

Sunghoon could only watch your retreating figure, letting out a quiet sigh as another attempt to start a conversation with you failed.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

Sunghoon leaned back against the counter in the doctors' lounge, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere distant. Jay glanced up from his phone and watched him for a moment before speaking.

“You’ve been like that all week,” he said.

Sunghoon didn’t respond.

“Actually,” Jay added, setting his phone down, “ever since she started avoiding you.”

That finally made Sunghoon look at him. “Avoiding?”

Jay let out a short scoff. “You didn’t notice?”

Before Sunghoon could answer, the door opened and Sunoo walked in, drink in hand, immediately sensing the tension.

“Notice what?” he asked casually.

Jay nodded towards Sunghoon. “He just realized.”

Sunoo blinked once, then laughed lightly. “No way.”

“What are you talking about?” Sunghoon frowned.

Sunoo leaned against the table, studying him. “You’ve been acting off for weeks.”

“I haven’t—”

“You have,” Jay cut in. “You’re more distracted. You forget small things, double-check things you normally don’t.”

Sunoo added, “And you keep looking towards her area even when you’re not assigned there.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened slightly. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” Jay said calmly. A brief silence followed before Sunoo tilted his head.

“You didn’t even realize she was avoiding you until now.”

Sunghoon paused, thinking back. Vague replies, shorter conversations, the way you left early, the lack of eye contact. “…I thought she was just busy,” he muttered.

Jay shook his head. “You don’t believe that.”

Sunghoon didn’t answer.

Sunoo exhaled softly. “You’re not just noticing her.” He smirks slightly. “You’re affected by her.”

The words hung in the air.

Sunghoon scoffed weakly, but it lacked certainty. “I’m not affected.”

“Then why do you look like that every time she walks past you and doesn’t stop?” Sunoo asked simply.

Silence.

Jay crossed his arms. “You didn’t care before.”

Sunghoon frowned slightly. "What do you mean?”

“You used to be fine,” Jay said. “Now you’re not.”

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "She’s been acting weird...”

Jay immediately corrected him. “No. You’ve been acting weird.”

Sunghoon looked between them, irritation flickering but it didn’t last. Because it was starting to feel… accurate.

Sunoo sighed and pushed himself off the table. “You know what your problem is?”

Sunghoon looked up. “What?”

“You think noticing her is enough,” Sunoo said simply.

That made him pause.

Jay added more quietly, “It’s not.”

Sunghoon frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Sunoo stepped closer, voice steady now. “You don’t get to just notice her forever.”

“You either do something about it or someone else eventually will. Like perhaps, Jungwon?”

That landed differently.

Sunghoon’s expression hardened. "What am I supposed to do?” Jay answered immediately. “Tell her.”

Sunghoon blinked. “Tell her what?” Sunoo lets out a short laugh. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

He pulled out his phone and unlocked it, tapping a few times before turning the screen toward Sunghoon.

The photo from the night of the medical mission appeared. You, asleep, your head resting on his shoulder. Him, leaning slightly toward you, closer than he remembered.

The room went quiet.

“How did you get that?" He coughs. "And you know, that was just an accident. I didn't mean to end up in that position,” Sunghoon said after a moment, but his voice was quieter now.

Sunoo hummed. “Sure.”

Jay added, almost matter-of-fact, “You don’t let people that close.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond. His eyes stayed on the photo longer than necessary. “Since when did I start doing things like that?” he muttered under his breath.

Neither Sunoo nor Jay answered.

Instead, they just watched him, because for the first time, Sunghoon wasn’t denying it anymore. He was thinking.

Then Sunoo spoke again, softer but sharper.

“You don’t have to keep pretending you don’t feel anything. We know.”

Jay nodded once. “Just talk to her.”

Sunoo tilted his phone slightly, still showing the photo. “Before someone else does.”

And this time, Sunghoon didn’t argue.

──────────────────────────────

You push through the operating room doors, the sterile air hitting you instantly as the urgency inside the room becomes clear. The patient is already on the table, breaths uneven, the monitor beside her flashing unstable vitals.

“Doctor, her blood pressure is dropping,” one of the nurses calls out.

“I see it,” you reply, already gloving up. “Prepare for immediate delivery.”

Jungwon stands across from you, already scrubbed in, eyes focused but tense. This is different from the cases he’s seen before, this one is slipping, and even he can feel it. The usual controlled rhythm of the operating room feels tighter, heavier.

You moved quickly, voice steady despite the rising pressure. “Ma’am, stay with me, okay? You’re doing well. Just a little more.”

The woman turns her head slightly towards you, her face pale, lips trembling. “Doctor…” her voice is weak, barely audible. “If something happens…”

You shake your head immediately. “Nothing is going to happen. We’re getting both of you through this.”

She lets out a shaky breath, her fingers weakly gripping the sheets. “Please… just save the baby.”

“No,” you say firmly, without hesitation. “We’re saving both of you. Stay with me.”

“Heart rate dropping!” another nurse calls.

“Let’s move, now.” The room shifts into rapid motion.

“Push,” you instruct, your tone controlled but urgent. “You have to push for me.” With one final effort, the baby is delivered.

A second of silence, then a cry fills the room, strong and alive.

“Baby’s out,” you announced, a flicker of relief passing through the team.

But it doesn’t last.

“Doctor, she’s bleeding heavily!”

You look down, there's far more blood than before as it pooled rapidly.

“Start uterotonics. Apply pressure, now!” you order, your voice sharper now.

Jungwon hesitates for a fraction of a second before moving, following your commands, his movements slightly rushed.

“Ma’am, stay with me!” you call, louder now. “Stay with me!”

The monitor begins to slow.

“No, no, come on,” you mutter under your breath. “We’re not losing you.”

“BP unrecordable!”

“Prepare for resuscitation!”

The flatline cuts through the room. Followed by a long, continuous sound.

“No!” you shout, immediately stepping in. “Start CPR!”

You begin compressions, counting under your breath, your movements precise but desperate.

“Come on… come on…” you whisper, your voice cracking just slightly.

Jungwon watches for a brief moment, then steps in to assist, swallowing hard as he follows your lead.

Minutes pass, but the monitor doesn’t change.

The sound remains flat as your movements slow down.

The weight of the silence settles heavily in the room, no one daring to speak. For a moment, you just stare at the monitor, as if waiting for it to change. It doesn’t.

You inhale slowly, forcing yourself to straighten.

“Time of death,” you say, your voice quieter now, but steady as you glance at the clock. “4:56 pm.”

The baby’s cries echo faintly from across the room, a sharp contrast to the stillness surrounding you.

You turn your head towards Jungwon, your expression composed, but your eyes betray a flicker of something deeper.

“Transfer the baby to the newborn unit,” you instruct. “Go with the nurses.”

Jungwon nods, swallowing hard as two nurses carefully prepare the infant.

He hesitates for just a moment, looking back at you, before following them out.

You exhaled deeply, looking at the patient lying before you. Then you instructed the nurses on what to do with the body, ending with, “I’ll go inform her husband.”

ᯓ★ ݁˖

Pushing the operating room doors open, you stepped out into the hallway. The bright lights feel harsher now, the noise around you dull and distant. Across from you, her husband sits in the waiting area. The moment he sees you, he stands up quickly.

“Doc… how are they?” he asks as you approach.

You take a slow breath, steadying yourself, gathering the courage to say the words.

“I’m sorry, sir… but your wife didn’t make it,” you say quietly.

His shoulders drop as he looks down, his composure breaking as he starts to cry.

“…And the baby?” he asks after a moment, wiping at his tears.

“She’s alive,” you reply gently. “They’ve taken her to the newborn unit. I’ll let you know when it’s okay for you to visit.”

He nods weakly, trying to hold himself together.

“I’m… I’m sorry again for your loss,” you add, trying to sound professional despite the lump in your throat.

“It’s okay,” he says, though his voice trembles. “At least… at least you saved our baby. Thank you for that.”

You nod, offering a small, sympathetic smile as he turns and walks away, his steps heavy and unsteady.

You know it wasn't your fault, but deep down you still feel disappointed in yourself for not saving her.

As a doctor, moments like these are inevitable. But for you, it has only happened six times, including today. You always do your best to save your patients’ lives and you usually succeed. So when the worst happens, you can’t help but feel responsible, as if the loss was yours to carry.

You step aside, pressing a hand lightly against the wall as you take in a sharp breath. Tears begin to fall, quiet at first, then harder as the memory resurfaces, your patient’s face, the way she looked at you, trusting you when you promised to save both her and her baby.

“Y/N?” You heard someone call and you look up to see Sunghoon. You stared at him for a while, your expression a mix of surprise and nervous at the thought of him seeing your vulnerable side.

“Sunghoon, I—”

Before you can finish, he closes the distance and pulls you into a gentle embrace. One hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, guiding it to rest against his shoulder, while the other slowly rubs your back.

“Shh… it’s okay,” he murmurs softly. “You don’t have to explain anything.” He holds you carefully, like you might fall apart at any second.

You stayed like that for a while, crying into his shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around you.

You’re not sure how, but the simple gesture made you feel safe. The comfort you didn’t even realize you needed is suddenly there, steady and warm, easing the tightness in your chest little by little.

“I couldn’t save her,” you manage to say, your voice breaking as you pull away slightly, shaking your head. “I tried… but it wasn’t enough.”

“Hey, look at me.”

His hands gently cup your cheeks, guiding your gaze back to his.

“It’s not your fault,” he says softly. “It never was. So don’t blame yourself for what happened. You did everything you could.” His voice remains calm, comforting. “I’m like that too, I don’t always get to save my patients. But what matters is that you tried. That’s what counts.”

You swallow, nodding slowly as his words sink in.

“You’re right. Thank you,” you whisper.

He gives you a small, reassuring smile. “You don’t have to thank me. Just know that I’m always here for you.”

Your breath catches at that.

Your brows knit slightly as you search his face, trying to find even the slightest hint that he’s joking, but there’s nothing. Just sincerity, clear and unwavering in his eyes.

“Sunghoon…” you murmur.

“Yeah?” he responds, tilting his head slightly.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask quietly. “I’ve been a jerk to you these past few weeks but you’re still here, comforting me.”

Your gaze drops again, guilt creeping in.

“I don’t think I deserve your kindness… or even your friendship.”

Sunghoon shakes his head almost immediately. He lifts your chin gently with his finger, making you look at him again.

“I don’t care about the past few weeks,” he says. “You needed someone, so I came.”

Something in your chest stirs at that, soft and unfamiliar, yet overwhelming all at once. Your lips tremble slightly as your eyes begin to sting again.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

Before he can respond, you step forward and wrapped your arms around him once more, holding him tighter this time.

Sunghoon lets out a soft chuckle, clearly caught off guard, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he gently pats your back, his touch warm and reassuring as you cling to him.

──────────────────────────────

The next day after the incident, you, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Chaewon went out to eat together. It was Sunghoon’s idea, he said it might help cheer you up after everything that happened.

You sat at the table with Chaewon beside you and Sunghoon across from you.

As you waited for your food, you glanced at him and smiled. “Sunghoon, thank you for this. I really needed it. I’m glad to have a friend like you.”

Then you looked over at Chaewon and Sunoo. “And you guys too.”

“Aww, no problem, babes. We’re always here to cheer you up,” Chaewon replied, wrapping an arm around you in a side hug.

“Friends?” Sunoo suddenly echoed, glancing at Sunghoon from the corner of his eye.

You blinked, confused.

“Oh– I mean… yeah, you’re welcome,” he quickly corrected, offering an awkward smile.

Before you could question it further, the food arrived, filling the table and momentarily shifting everyone’s attention.

The conversation died down as you all started eating, the clinking of utensils replacing it.

A few minutes in, Sunoo suddenly stood up.

“I just need to go to the restroom,” he said casually, then turned to Sunghoon. “Come with me.”

Before Sunghoon could even react, Sunoo was already pulling him up from his seat. Sunghoon barely had time to set his fork down, looking completely caught off guard as he was dragged along.

You watched them walk away, brows slightly furrowed.

“What was that about?” Chaewon asked.

You shrugged, just as confused. “I have no idea.”

ᯓ★ ݁˖

As you walked back to the hospital, you decided to bring up what happened earlier.

“So… are you going to tell me what that was about, or am I supposed to pretend it was nothing?” you asked, glancing at Sunghoon.

“What? That?” Sunghoon replied casually, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Sunoo was just overreacting about something.”

“Really…” you said, clearly unconvinced. “What kind of something?”

He rolled his eyes slightly, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “It’s just between me and him. Don’t worry. I’ll tell you if it ever concerns you.”

You let out a quiet sigh, deciding not to push further. “Okay, fine. I’ll believe you. As long as it’s not about a secret crush or anything, then I’m out.”

“What?” Sunghoon suddenly said, a bit too quickly.

You frowned, studying his reaction. “Huh…?” Then it clicked. “Wait… I’m right?”

“N-no, you’re not,” he denied, but the tips of his ears turned noticeably red.

A laugh slipped out of you. “Hey, relax. I won’t tell anyone,” you said, nudging him lightly. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He glanced at you, still unsure whether to believe you.

“I think I already have an idea who it is,” you added, a teasing smile forming. “And don’t worry, I support you.”

“Oh…” Sunghoon exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “T– thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a small smile.

You looked away after that, your chest tightening just a little, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Relief, because Sunghoon trusted you with something so personal, and disappointment, because you hadn’t expected him to like Wonyoung back.

You thought you had successfully buried those feelings long ago, but hearing him admit he had a crush still stung more than you were willing to admit.

It’s fine, you told yourself. As long as you stayed good friends, that would be enough.

──────────────────────────────

The fluorescent lights in the doctors’ lounge felt harsher than usual.

Maybe it was the hour. Maybe it was the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. Or maybe it was the way the numbers on the chart in front of you refused to make sense no matter how many times you read them.

Beside you, the cup of coffee you bought earlier had long gone lukewarm.

You reached for it anyway, bringing it to your lips in a half-hearted attempt to wake yourself up.

The bitter taste lingered, but it did little to chase away the heaviness in your eyes. If anything, it only reminded you how tired you really were.

You blinked once. Twice.

Still, the words blurred.

With a quiet sigh, you leaned back slightly in your chair, pressing your fingers against your temple as if that would somehow force your mind to cooperate. It didn’t. If anything, the silence of the room only made your thoughts louder and harder to ignore.

You didn’t even realize you were staring blankly at the same line for the past five minutes.

“You’re going to misread that.”

The voice came from behind you, calm and familiar, cutting through your haze like it always did.

You didn’t turn immediately. Instead, you let out a small breath, somewhere between a tired laugh and defeat.

“I’m not,” you muttered weakly, eyes still on the chart. “I’m just… taking my time.”

There was a pause. Then the sound of footsteps, slow, unhurried, coming closer.

“You’ve been ‘taking your time’ on the same page since I got here,” he replied.

You finally turned, meeting Sunghoon’s gaze. His expression wasn’t mocking, nor was it particularly soft, it was something in between, the kind you had learned to read over the years. Observant. Quietly concerned.

You straightened a little in your seat, as if that alone could prove your point.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though even you could hear how unconvincing it sounded.

His eyes flickered briefly to the untouched coffee beside you, then back to your face.

“You didn’t even finish that,” he pointed out.

You glanced at the cup, then away. “It’s not working,” you admitted under your breath.

That was when his expression shifted, just slightly.

“…Come on.”

You frowned slightly. “What?”

“Come on,” he repeated, already turning away as if he expected you to follow.

You stared at his back for a second, then let out a quiet sigh before pushing your chair back. The legs scraped softly against the floor as you stood, grabbing your coat almost out of habit.

“Where are we going?” you asked, trailing after him.

“Fresh air,” he said simply. “Since that clearly isn’t working.”

You glanced back once at the abandoned cup of coffee on the table before following him out.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

The hallway was quieter than usual.

Your footsteps echoed faintly against the polished floors, falling into rhythm with his. Neither of you spoke, and yet the silence felt… comfortable. Familiar. It wrapped around the two of you like something well-worn, something neither of you questioned anymore.

The elevator ride was short.

You leaned lightly against the wall, arms loosely crossed, your head tilting back just enough for your eyes to close for a second. The hum of the elevator was almost lulling, dangerously so.

“You’re actually going to fall asleep standing up,” Sunghoon muttered.

You opened one eye lazily. “I’m not that far gone.”

He didn’t respond, but you felt his gaze stayed on you for a brief moment.

ᯓ★ ݁˖

The rooftop door creaked softly as he pushed it open.

The moment you stepped out, the cold night air hit your face, sharp and refreshing. It stole the warmth lingering on your skin and replaced it with something clearer.

You inhaled deeply.

And for the first time in hours, your head felt lighter.

“…Okay,” you admitted, stepping forward. “That actually helped.”

The wind picked up slightly, brushing past you and tugging at the edges of your coat. Fabric shifted, swaying gently with each passing breeze, the night wrapping itself around you in quiet movements.

You walked towards the railing, resting your hands against the cool metal as you looked out at the city below. Lights flickered in the distance, cars moving like slow, distant streams.

For a moment, everything felt far away.

“Thanks for this,” you said softly.

No response.

You glanced over your shoulder.

Sunghoon stood a few steps behind you, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his posture relaxed but his gaze wasn’t on the view.

It was on you.

You turned slightly, brows knitting together. “What?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he took a step closer.

Then another.

The faint sound of his shoes against the concrete felt louder than it should have, each step closing the space between you until he was standing beside you, closer than usual.

Close enough for you to notice the way the wind shifted his hair slightly.

Close enough to see the way his eyes caught the city lights.

The way they seemed to twinkle, just barely, as he looked at you, not distant, but focused in a way that made your chest tighten without warning.

Something in your expression must have changed, because his gaze softened a little.

“You know, lately…” he began slowly, his voice lower now, steadier but heavier somehow. “I’ve been noticing things I didn’t before.”

Your breath hitched, just slightly.

“I thought it was nothing,” he continued. “I told myself it didn’t matter.” Then he took another step closer.

You didn’t move.

“But it keeps coming back,” he said, softer now. “No matter how much I try to ignore it.”

Your heart was beating faster now, louder than the wind, louder than your thoughts.

You couldn’t look away, not when he was standing this close, not when his voice sounded like that.

“Look, Y/N…” he said, your name quieter than you had ever heard it from him.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something—”

A sharp sound cut through the air.

Your phone rang.

The sudden noise felt almost too loud in contrast to the stillness that had built up around you. You flinched slightly, breaking eye contact as you reached into your pocket.

Jungwon’s name flashes on your caller ID the moment you pick up.

Before you can even speak, his voice comes through urgently. “Y/N, there’s a woman in active labor with complications. We need you here now.”

“Okay, I’m coming,” you reply, your voice cutting through the quiet rooftop.

The wind is still, almost cruelly calm compared to the urgency in his tone.

You turn to Sunghoon, and for a brief second, your expression softens with guilt. “There’s an emergency. You can tell me that next time, okay?”

“Oh… okay,” he says quietly, the disappointment flickering across his face before he can hide it.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” you add, already stepping back.

And just like that, you’re gone.

Sunghoon watches as you rush towards the door, your coat trailing behind you, footsteps echoing sharply before fading completely into the hospital corridor.

The rooftop falls silent again.

He stays there for a moment longer, unmoving, the wind brushing through his hair as if time itself has slowed down just for him.

A small breath escapes him, almost a sigh, as he looks at the empty space where you were standing just seconds ago.

══════════════════════════════

☙ taglist:

@kristynaaah @choibeargyu @oopshee @wonstruck7 @missoxy @loveydoveyez @naraemin @momoarchiveee @betagalactose @jakebitez @reneleaily @jakey1115 @honestlyatomicpanda @jaeunaria0-0 @thisismepls @sievenderz @fabulousarepo4 @heestiki @cumtrov3rsy @wonniecaramelmacchiato

author's note: wow, 12K words, this is actually my first time writing a fic that reached this word count

i really enjoyed writing this, which is probably why it ended up this long haha. as a med student myself, i got especially excited while writing the medical parts. and i think this is, by far, my favorite fic that I’ve written so far

i hope you were able to read it until the end >< even if it didn’t fully meet your expectations, i genuinely did my best to pour my heart into this fic (which I think I somehow did hehe)

[aesprn]

PAPA ME WANT MORE MOVIE

[aesprn]

🩰 meet kade

ABOUT ME! kade. she/her. eng-spa-cze ok. scorpio. 18!!! criminology student. based in the us.

INTERESTS! enha. aespa. atla. b99. rookie. high potential. invincible. dc. marvel. animes. pitt.

LITTLE THINGS! tarot cards. cherry vanilla coke. the color blue. silver jewelry. bears. strawberries. fantasy/history/geography/global politics nerd. sabrina carpenters girlfriend!

DNI! homophobic, zionist, antisemetic, transphobic, pro-ai, anti-palestine, ukraine, congo, or sudan, bully. I do not want you here if you support these!!!!

back2nav. main masterlist. rules. taglist.

© aesprn — all rights reserved.

[aesprn]

Let me hit once Pls let me pls

im ready for u

[aesprn]

HEAR ME OUT 🧠

PLOT! AITA for using my best friends inner thoughts to fuck with him throughout the week until he is forced to admit his feelings for me out loud?

CONTENT! Sunghoon/Fem!Reader, Fluff, Reader can hear thoughts, Bestie!Sunghoon, Sunghoon acts nonchalant, His thoughts tell a different story, SMUT (MDNI), Top!Sunghoon, Soft Dom!Sunghoon, Desperate!Sunghoon, P in V, Unprotected Sex (pls wrap b4 u tap), Oral (f receiving), Yearner!Sunghoon, I believe this is considered psychological warfare, Y/n is a literal menace.

AUTHORS NOTE! got this plot from a randomr eddit video i saw on tiktok where the girl was married to this nonchalant guy and she could suddenly hear his thoughts and he was such a loser who wanted her so badd OOOOH sunghoon ur perfect for this bend over.

WORD COUNT! 7.2k!!!

It was a cold January night when it first happened.

You were on the couch, watching Silence of the Lambs (aka the most absurd movie ever) with your best friend, Park Sunghoon. It was your weekly movie night, and last time was at his place, so this time was at yours. 

The setup was the same as always. Blanket split unevenly between the two of you—his fault, it’s always his fault—your legs tucked underneath you, his stretched out across the coffee table like he owned the place. Which, at this point, was basically true. Sunghoon had a key. He knew where the good snacks were hidden. He’d argued with you about your IKEA furniture assembly and been right about it. If that didn’t make someone a co-owner, nothing did.

“This movie is not scary,” he said flatly, reaching into the popcorn bowl on your lap without looking away from the screen.

“I never said it was scary. I said it was disturbing. There’s a difference.”

“Well it’s neither.”

“A man is making a suit out of human skin, Sunghoon.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

You looked at him. “Where?”

He paused. “Nature documentaries.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, and something shifted in his expression. Barely anything, just the faintest softening in the corner of his eyes. It was so quick you almost missed it. Almost.

That was the thing about Park Sunghoon. On the outside, he was the picture of composure. Unhurried. Unbothered. The kind of person who could be late to his own birthday party and somehow make everyone else feel like they’d arrived too early. He was like that in class, too. Front row, never frantic, taking notes in that annoyingly neat handwriting of his while everyone around him was three lectures behind and quietly spiraling.

You had met him in your first year, in a mandatory elective neither of you wanted to be in. He’d sat next to you because it was the only seat left, and when the professor had asked everyone to introduce themselves to the person beside them, he had looked at you and said—very seriously—"How fast do you think we could get through this syllabus if we actually tried?”

You had been best friends ever since.

It made sense, in the way that certain things just did. You moved at the same pace. You thought the same things were funny. You could sit in silence for hours and it never felt like anything needed to be filled. He was the person you called when something went wrong and also when something went right. Somewhere along the way those two categories had quietly expanded to include everything in between.

Which was fine. Completely fine. You were not in love with your best friend.

You were almost certain.

On screen, Clarice was walking into the dark. You shifted on the couch, tugging the blanket back toward your side, and Sunghoon let you without comment. This meant he wasn’t paying attention. You glanced over at him.

He was looking at the TV, jaw resting on his hand, expression perfectly neutral. His hair was a little messy—he had come straight from practice, changed into a hoodie in your bathroom, and left his back by the door like he always did. There was something easy about having him here. Something that had started feeling dangerously close to necessary.

You looked back at the screen.

That was when it happened.

No warning. No build-up. No cinematic crack of lightning or sudden ringing in your ears. One moment there was the sound of Clarice's heavy breathing, the low ambient noise of your apartment, the rustle of the blanket—

And then there was a voice.

She always laughs like that when she’s actually surprised. Like she tried to hold it in and lost.

You froze.

The voice was his. Not out loud. His mouth hadn’t moved, you looked right at him. But it was unmistakably Sunghoon’s voice, low and even, like he was narrating a novel.

You didn’t move.

She’s been using the same shampoo since second year. I don’t know why I know that.

Your heart stopped. You turned very slowly to look at him. He was still watching the movie. Completely still, completely unaware. The popcorn bowl was between you and he reached into it again without looking and his arm brushed yours and—

Don’t make it weird. Don’t make it weird. You’re fine. She’s just… A pause. She’s right there.

You stared at him, but he didn’t stare back. He watched Anthony Hopkins monologue as if absolutely nothing was happening, as if his internal voice had not just short-circuited your entire brain, and you sat there in the blue light of your TV thinking: what the fuck.

You didn’t sleep well that night. 

Not because of the movie. The movie was fine. Buffalo Bill was unsettling on a conceptual level but you’d watched it twice before and you had a high threshold for cinematic weirdness. No, you didn’t sleep because you laid in bed staring at the ceiling and replayed every single thing you’d heard for the remaining forty minutes of the film.

And there had been a lot.

Her apartment always smells like that candle. I should figure out what scent it is. For no reason.

She’s cold. She’s not going to say anything. She’ll just suffer. I should—and then he’d shifted and tugged part of the blanket over to your side without a word, like he’d just decided something.

Two more weeks until her birthday. I already know what I’m getting her. I’ve known for three months. That’s normal… that's a normal amount of time to know

She’s laughing again. Okay. Cool. I’m fine.

You rolled over and pressed your face into the pillow.

Park Sunghoon. Your best friend. The most unreadable person you had ever met in our life, who apparently had an entire internal monologue dedicated to noticing things about you. Your laugh, your shampoo, your candle, the way you got cold and didn’t say so. And he never let any of it reach his face.

For how long? How long had this been happening?

You thought about the soft look he’d tried to hide when you laughed. You thought about the blanket. You thought about I’ve known for three months, that’s normal—

You groaned into your pillow. This was a lot of information to receive on a Tuesday.

The next morning, you tested it.

Sunghoon had a habit of coming over early on Wednesdays because you both had the same 10 am lecture and he lived closer to your building than campus. It was an arrangement that had started practically and continued sentimentally, which was very on-brand for your entire friendship.

You knocked at 8:52. You opened the door in your oversized sweatshirt and immediately, before he’d even said hello—

She looks good in the mornings. She always looks good in the mornings. Fuck, thats extremly inconvenient.

You felt your face do something. You couldn’t control it.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing.” You stepped back. “I made coffee.”

He came in, dropped his bag, accepted the mug you handed him, and leaned against your kitchen counter with the air of someone who had never experienced a chaotic thought in his life. You watched him over the rim of your own mug and waited.

She’s staring.

It’s fine. She stares sometimes. It means nothing. Don’t read into it. 

… She’s still staring.

“I’m not staring,” you said, more like blurted.

He looked at you. “I didn’t say you were.”

Fuck. “You were thinking it.” You said, which was technically true in the most unhinged way possible.

Sunghoon looked at you for a moment longer than necessary. Then he took a sip of his coffee. “Okay,” he said, in a tone that meant he had filed this away and would return to it later.

You needed a plan.

Here’s what you knew:

Sunghoon was not going to say anything. That was simply not how he worked. He could think about your shampoo and memorize your candle scent and spend three months deciding on a birthday gift and still show up every Wednesday looking like a man without a single complicated feeling. He would do this indefinitely. He would probably take it to his grave.

And you—you, who had spent the better part of a year trying very hard not to notice the way he looked at you sometimes—were not going to wait for a grave.

So you made a decision.

You were going to give Park Sunghoon exactly what he wanted. Piece by piece. Situation by situation, all of it carefully constructed so that he thought it was happening naturally. And at the end of it, he was going to have no choice but to say it out loud.

All you had to do was listen.

It started small. 

Friday night, you invited him to the convenience store. Normal enough, you did this roughly once a week, usually for ramen and whatever snack had rotated its way onto the seasonal shelf. But this time, on the way back, you chose the path along the river instead of the shortcut through the carpark.

It was cold enough that your breath fogged the air. The streetlights caught in the water. You had your hands tucked into your sleeves, thinking that this had been a good idea when Sunghoon’s voice materialized quietly in your head.

I always want to walk this way. She never wants to walk this way.

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Isn’t this nicer?”

A beat passed. “Yeah.” He said. He was looking ahead, but something in his shoulders had settled. “It is.”

She remembered.

He didn’t say it out loud, of course he didn’t. But you heard it, warm and quiet, and you had to look away before your face gave you away completely.

The next one was trickier.

You were in the library, 3rd floor, your usual table by the window. While you worked through problem sets, Sunghoon arrived twenty minutes later and folded himself into the seat next to you. He unpacked in silence, which was normal. Then he went quiet in that particular way he had where he was trying to figure something out and didn’t want to ask for help, which you also knew, because you knew all of his silences.

You waited.

I could just ask her. She’d explain it without making me feel stupid. She never makes me feel stupid.

But then she’ll know I didn’t understand the lecture and she’ll—

She won’t care. She genuinely will not give two shits.

Obviously I know that. That’s not the issue, the issue is that shes—

A pause.

She’s the only person I actually want help from. Is that a weird thing to feel this strongly about?

You looked up from your notes. “Do you want me to walk you through the regression model? I had to redo it like twice before it clicked.” Not technically a lie.

Sunghoon looked up at you.

“I’m serious,” you said, keeping your face carefully neutral. “It’s faster if we do it together.”

Something moved behind his eyes. Not readable: it never quite was. But it was there. He slid his notebook across the table toward you. “Okay.”

You worked through it side by side, your handwriting appearing in the margins of his notes, carefully avoiding his various doodles across the page. Your shoulders pressed close together so you could feel the warmth of him. And under everything, you could hear him thinking:

This is my favorite way to study. This is my favorite way to do a lot of things.

Then came the party.

Jungwon’s birthday parties had a reputation. What started as a small gathering with a reasonable headcount always turned into something completely different by 11 pm. More people, more noise, more empty bottles lined up along the windowsill like a timeline of bad decisions. You had been to enough of them to know to eat beforehand.

You arrived a little after 10. Sunghoon was already there—you found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a drink in his hand, talking to someone from his major with the energy of a person attending a very calm business lunch. Completely unbothered. Completely composed.

You felt him notice you before he looked up.

There she is.

Warm. Immediate. Like a reflex he’d long stopped trying to correct.

You made your way over and he handed you a drink without being asked, already knowing. Smirnoff Ice Raspberry. What a gentleman.

“How long have you been here?” You asked him.

“An hour.”

“An hour and you’re already relaxed?” You say, gesturing to what you can clearly tell is not his first drink of the night.

“I’m always relaxed.”

I am not relaxed. Her outfit is so small and I’ve been here an hour just wondering when she would show up and she shows up in that!

You took a sip of your drink to hide your expression.

By eleven, the party had done its inevitable thing. The hallway was full, the music was louder, and someone had started a game in the living room that you’d opted out of on principle. You weren’t really in the mood to kiss random men when you had one pining over you in his head. 

You were on your 3rd drink, warm at the edges, feeling the particular looseness that came from just enough and not too much.

Sunghoon was on something closer to his fifth.

You could tell only because you knew him. To anyone else, he looked exactly the same. Same posture, same unhurried delivery, same expression that gave away absolutely nothing. He was holding his cup with the same quiet authority he held everything. Responding to people in full, measured sentences.

But his thoughts.

She laughed at something. I didn’t hear what it was. Doesn’t matter, I’d listen to her laugh for an unreasonable amount of time and never get tired. I’ve accepted that.

You pressed your lips together and did your best to bite back the blush running towards your cheeks.

Her drink is almost empty. I should—a pause, like he was negotiating with himself—no. That’s too obvious. She can get her own. She doesn’t need me to—

You watched him glance at your cup from across the room, completely imperceptibly, and then look away.

Fuck this. I can’t let anyone here think she’s single. Even though she is. Fuck.

He appeared by your side sixty seconds later and held one out. You took it.

“Thank you!” You said.

“Mhm.” He looked at the room.

She smells like that candle again. She must’ve been home before this. God I’m pathetic.

You stared very hard at a window across the room and reminded yourself to breathe normally.

It got worse—better, actually—as the night went on.

You found a quieter corner of the apartment, as you usually did, and the party moved around you while you stayed still. This was your pattern. Your orbit. Sunghoon stood close enough that your shoulders almost touched and talked to you in that low, even voice of his about nothing important—a lecture, a teammate, something Sunoo had said earlier that had mildly irritated him.

I think about telling her all the time. Like, constantly. It’s become a problem. I’ll be in the middle of something completely unrelated and I’ll just—think about her. The way she argued about things she cares about. The way she falls asleep during movies and then insists she wasn’t sleeping.

She’s always sleeping. I never say anything. I let her have it. I’d let her have everything if that’s what she wanted

Later, the crowd thinned. Someone swapped the music for something slower and the kitchen light cast everything in a warm gold. You were feeling pretty drunk, loose and light and devious, if you were 100% honest.

Because here’s the thing. You had spent the past 2 hours listening to Sunghoon’s internal monologue short-circuit in real time, and the drinks had made you brave, and you decided you were going to have fun.

You turned to face him fully and leaned your shoulder against the wall so you were looking up at him. Close. Closer than you’d normally stand.

“You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“More than usual.”

He looked at you. Said nothing, of course. His face was perfectly, infuriatingly composed.

She’s standing really close. Okay, that’s fine. She does that sometimes. It doesn’t mean any—she’s looking at me like that again.

You smiled, slow and deliberate, and watched his jaw shift almost imperceptibly.

“What?” He asked.

“Nothing.” You reached over and fixed the collar of his shirt—it didn’t need fixing. You just did it. Fingers brushing the side of his neck for half a second before you pull your hand back. 

The thought that hit you was instantaneous.

Oh. A pause. Don’t. Do not.

His expression didn’t change. He simply looked at you with the same unhurried calm he looked at everything with and said “Thanks” in a voice that gave you nothing.

You were going to lose your mind. Give me something, asshole!

You shifted closer under the pretense of someone passing behind you and didn’t shift back. Your hand was on his arm now, you could feel the warmth of him through his sleeve.

She’s not moving. She’s not moving and I cant—I need to—Fuck she looks so good tonight. She always looks so good—I’m going to need a cold shower tonight.

“Cold?” He asked.

You tried not to laugh at how well it connected to his thoughts. “A little.” You lied.

He didn’t say anything, but he turned very slightly so his body was angled towards yours, the smallest possible adjustment, like he was trying to do so without admitting he was doing it.

Keep talking, his thoughts said, unprompted. Just keep talking to me. I don’t care what you say, I just wanna—

“Tell me something.” You say.

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

He considered this with great seriousness of someone preparing for war. You watching him think and heard the entire thing unravel. I want to tell her so many things. I want to tell her that I think about her all the time. I want to tell her she’s the first person I want to call when anything bad happens. I want to tell her to touch me and never stop.

“Jungwon’s playlist sucks.” Is what he chose instead.

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. The contrast of his thoughts to the words coming out of his mouth was just too hilarious for you to handle. He watched you laugh and his thought arrived soft and immediate:

There it is.

You looked back up at him, still smiling, and let the moment stretch. Then, slowly, you reached out and took the cup from his hand—just to take a sip, just as an excuse—your fingers overlapping his for a second before he let go.

His entire internal monologue went briefly nonverbal for a moment.

Fuck she has no idea what she’s doing to me. She genuinely cannot know. If she knew she would—she wouldn’t—she doesn’t—

A pause. A long one, actually.

Does she know?

You handed the cup back. Your fingers brushed him again on the pass. Deliberate. Completely deliberate.

I want you so bad.

The thought arrived and made you almost choke on air. It was so helplessly honest that it made your stomach flip. Not chaotic, necessarily, just true. Simple and overwhelming and incredibly sincere and raw.

I’ve wanted you for so long and you’re just standing here and I can’t tell you! Not like this. 

But please don’t move.

You don’t move. Sunghoon stood beside you looking unbothered.

This, you thought, was the most fun you had ever had in your entire life.

Your shared 10 am was held in a wide tiered lecture hall that fit about two hundred students and smell permanently of coffee and resignation. You sat in the same spot every week, middle left. Close enough to see the slides, far enough to feel like you had options. Sunghoon always sat next to you. 

You go there first on Tuesday. When he arrived, he dropped into the seat next to you and pulled out his notebook. You were ready.

You chose to wait until the lecture started, until he was settled. Pen in hand, paying attention the way he always did. 

Then you leaned over, close enough that your shoulder pressed into his and whispered “Can I borrow a pen?”

You had 3 in your bag. He didn’t know that.

He reached into his case without looking and held one out. Your fingers closed around it slowly, over his, just for a second longer than necessary.

Don’t fucking look at her. Look at the slide. There is a slide, dammit.

You settled back into your seat and uncapped the pen like nothing happened. Ten minutes later you leaned in again. “What did he say? I missed it.” Your lips were approximately four inches from his ear. You felt him go very still and you smiled.

She smells so good. Why does she always—focus! He’s talking about monetary policy. Monetary policy. That’s what's important right now.

“Quantitative easing.” he said, in a voice that was completely level. Not even a crack. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, and sat back.

I cannot believe I’m this affected by quantitative easing.

Sunghoon played like he did everything else, with total composure and quiet precision. Like the game was simply a problem being solved in real time. You had been to his matches before but usually with a group. This time you came alone and found a spot near the front and he saw you during warm ups.

You waved.

His expression softened the slightest bit. She’s wearing my hoodie.

You were, in fact, wearing his hoodie. The one he’d left at your place three weeks ago and you’d simply never given it back. You had put it on this morning with full awareness of what you were doing and zero remorse.

That’s my hoodie on her and she looks—I have a game. I have a game in four minutes. Get your fucking shit together.

He focused on the game. You watched him be extraordinary at it with the detached calm of someone who had done it a thousand times, and every few minutes a thought would surface.

Is she still here? She is. Good.

At halftime he jogged to the sideline and grabbed his water bottle and glanced at you once. It was brief, but you smiled as always and tucked your hands into the front pocket of his hoodie.

She’s so cute.

Then he went back to playing.

After the final whistle—they won, 2-1, Sunghoon had assisted in both goals with the energy of a man doing his grocery shopping—he found you at the edge of the field. Hair slightly damp, still catching his breath, looking at you with a gaze like you were the only girl in the world.

“You played great!”

“Thank you.” He said breathlessly.

You reached up and fixed a part of his hair that had fallen across his forehead, the same way you fixed his collar at the party. Easy and unbothered. 

I’m so in love with her it’s embarrassing. And she’s still touching my hair. I will stand here forever. I will stand on this field until the groundskeepers kick me off.

It was a Saturday when it stopped being a game.

Not because you decided it. Not because anything dramatic happened to signal a shift. It was a Saturday and you were making dinner and Sunghoon was in your kitchen, and somewhere between the two of you it just became too much.

It had started normally enough. He texted at five asking if you’d eaten. You hadn’t. He showed up twenty minutes later with groceries and no further explanation, which was so perfectly, infuriatingly him that you hadn’t even questioned it. This was just a thing he did. This was just how he was with you.

The kitchen was warm. You had music on low—something ambient and unhurried. Sunghoon had taken over the stove with the quiet authority he applied to everything while you sat at the counter and handled the easier tasks: chopping, stirring, handing things over when he asked.

It was comfortable, it was always comfortable with him.

But you had spent a week being deliberate about every point of contact and now you were tired and warm and a little undone by the Friday couch moment still sitting in your chest, and tonight you weren't being strategic. Tonight things just kept — happening.

Like the way you leaned over to check on the pan and your arm slid along his. The way he reached past you for the salt and didn't move back immediately. The way the kitchen was small and you were both in it and neither of you seemed to be trying very hard to maintain any kind of distance.

She's everywhere in this apartment, he thought, while stirring something and looking straight ahead. Everything here is her. I come here and it just — feels like her. I don't know what to do with that.

You handed him a spoon without being asked and your fingers touched and the thought that followed was short and unadorned:

I love her.

Not feral. Not desperate. Just true, the way facts were true, the way gravity was true, delivered in the same internal voice he used to note the weather or remember an appointment.

I love her and I don't know how much longer I can—

"You're quiet," you said.

"I'm always quiet."

"Different quiet."

He glanced at you. "You say that a lot."

"Because it keeps being true."

He looked at you for a moment, something unreadable moving behind his eyes, and then looked back at the stove.

You watched him. The line of his shoulders, the careful way he moved, the complete and total composure he maintained at all times like it cost him nothing when you knew — you knew now — exactly what it cost.

You slid off the counter and moved to stand beside him. Not for any reason. Just to be closer.

She's right next to me. She keeps doing this. She's been doing this all week and I—I don't know if she knows what she's doing. I think she might know. Does she know?

You reached past him to adjust the heat on the burner — he was standing right there, you had to reach across him to get to it, your arm brushing his chest for a half second — and when you pulled back you turned your head and found his face much closer than you'd anticipated.

Neither of you moved.

Okay, his brain said, with a kind of strained calm. Okay. This is—She's right there. She's looking at me. I have been in love with her for over a year and she is right there and I—

"Y/N."

His voice came out different. Lower. The composure was still there but something underneath it that wasn't, some thread pulled just tight enough that you could hear it.

"Yeah?" you said.

He looked at you. Really looked — the way he had on the couch on Friday, no pretense, no performance, just Sunghoon looking at you like you were something he'd stopped being able to look away from.

"What are you doing?" he said.

It wasn't accusatory. It was quiet. Genuine. Like he actually needed to know.

And here was the thing — here was the part you hadn't planned for — you opened your mouth to say something easy and deflecting and instead what came out was the truth.

"I don't know anymore," you said. "I think I stopped doing anything on purpose about three days ago."

Something in his face shifted. The last careful layer of it, the one he always kept in reserve, the one you'd never seen him let go of before.

"Three days ago," he repeated.

"The game," you said. "Friday. You were just — you were just being you and I—" you stopped. Laughed a little, helplessly. "I've been driving myself crazy, Sunghoon."

She—

His thought didn't finish. Like his brain had simply stopped processing and switched to something else entirely.

"You've been driving yourself crazy," he said, and something in his voice had shifted too, something dry and disbelieving and warm underneath it. "You've been driving me crazy for a week. You know that, right?"

You looked at him. "Have I?"

"In lecture," he said. "The couch. The game." A pause. "The collar." He said the last one quietly, like it had been living in him since the party and had just now been let out.

"The collar," you repeated innocently.

"You knew what you were doing."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Y/N."

"Sunghoon."

He looked at you for a long moment, this boy who never cracked, who never rushed, who kept everything behind his eyes until he decided otherwise — and then he decided otherwise.

"I'm in love with you," he said. Simple. Direct. Like he'd taken aim and let go. "I have been for a long time and this week has been the most unhinged experience of my life so if you have something to tell me I really think you should tell me now."

The most unhinged experience of my life. You almost laughed again. He had no idea. "I'm in love with you too," you said. "I have been. For a long time, I think."

He exhaled.

Not dramatically — this was Sunghoon, nothing was ever dramatic — just a slow breath out, like something he'd been holding had finally been set down. His hand came up and found your jaw, tilted your face up toward his, and he looked at you for one long, unhurried moment the way he did everything.

There she is, he thought, soft and certain and final. There she is.

Then he kissed you.

It was warm and quiet and careful and then — when you kissed him back, when your hand found the front of his shirt — not careful at all. His other hand found your waist and pulled you closer and you went, and the food on the stove went briefly unattended, and the music played on low in the background of your apartment that smelled like his candle and yours combined now, that had his bag by the door and his key on the hook, that had been halfway his for a long time already.

His last coherent thought, before everything else: Finally.

He kissed you like a man starved, and after everything you had heard the past couple of weeks, he was starved. His hands tightened on your waist the slightest bit, almost as if he was afraid you would leave.

You wouldn’t dream of it.

Your hands dragged up his shirt and towards the back of his neck, pushing him closer and playing with his hair. Sunghoon let out a shaky breath, which made you smile into the kiss.

“Shut.” Kiss. “Up.” Another kiss. His voice was so low that it shocked you, but you were too busy to even fully notice.

“I didn’t say anything.” You say in between his kisses. Eventually you force yourself to pull away. His face looks like you just slapped him, but you caress his face. “I’m just turning off the stove.”

Sunghoon pursed his lips together. “Right. I forgot. I was kinda distracted.”

You stare at him for a moment, taking him in. His flushed cheeks, his glossy eyes, his hands that refuse to leave your waist. “At the risk of sounding too forward—”

“Be forward. That’s all I’ve wanted this entire week.”

You nod. “Well.. we can go to my room…?”

You barely got the chance to hear his brain fry itself when he smashes his lips back down onto yours. He seems hungrier now, and the thought has you reeling. All you can hear are bits and pieces. Please, and I’m obsessed with you, cross his mind over and over again, but you’re too involved in him to care.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a please.”

Sunghoon keeps kissing you as the two of you walk (awkwardly. It’s surprisingly hard to keep a straight line of direction when a man is kissing the shit out of you) to your bedroom. The door was already open, and your bed was already made. The two of you just flopped onto the mattress, not bothering to stop.

He laid above you, moving from your lips to everywhere else. “I’ve been in love with you,” a kiss on the cheek, “since that IKEA argument,” a kiss on your jaw, “when you were wearing that stupid,” kiss on the neck, “fucking,” kiss on your collarbone, “shirt.” He keeps kissing you, mumbling more. “It was the tiniest shirt in existence and you wore it around me.”

“It was the first shirt I saw that day.”

“Well it made me really hard.” He says, looking down at you. 

“Oh, did it now?” You say, a playful smirk on your face. 

He wipes that smirk off with a kiss, trailing back down to the collarbone, sucking on various spots. You choose not to think about how much of a pain it will be to whisk those out of your skin before your shift. Instead, you choose to live in the moment. 

His hands trail from your waist to your sides. “Can I?” He asks, hands incredibly still. You nod, but that’s not enough for him. “Please say it.”

“Yes, Sunghoon.”

He wastes no time in taking your shirt off, throwing it somewhere in your room for you to find later. “So beautiful.” He mumbles, almost incoherently. “Wanted this for so long. You for so long.”

Every word, every kiss, every touch sends sparks up and down your body. You don’t know how you’ve lived without this, but now that you have it you won’t ever give it up. You run your hands under his shirt and on his bare skin, feeling the warmth of the man on top of you. 

It’s barely even a touch, and yet he folds completely. Head in your neck, holding you tightly. You feel the outline of abs and a strong v line, hands going lower and lower. Instead of the obvious, you choose to grab the hem of his shirt and pull it. He instantly moves, allowing you to pull the shirt off him—with his help of course.

You had seen him shirtless before. Sophomore year pool party hosted by Jake. But this is completely different. 2 years of soccer and consistent working out has made this man built. And you were not complaining. 

You grab his jeans and pull him back in, but he stops himself.

“I wanna try something.”

You give him a nod, and he moves to pull down your sweatpants, leaving you in just a bra and underwear. Sunghoons eyes rake over your body in a way that screams adoration. If you had ever thought he didn’t like you, his actions now change your mind immediately.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

“Okay.” You say quietly, unsure of what's to come.

He starts kissing your neck once more, moving down to your collarbone, then shoulder, then sternum. He makes it his mission to kiss every part of you. Your tits, your stomach, your hips. You don’t even realize how far down he is until he plants a kiss right above your underwear.

He goes to one hip, then the other, planting kisses on both. But instead of going where you want him, he goes to your thighs. He starts at the left, gentle kisses up and down your inner thigh, making you squirm. At the right, his kisses are still gentle, but they're closer now. Closer to where you want him. To where he wants to be.

“So beautiful.” He murmurs, finally pressing a kiss to your clothed heat. A delicate kiss, yet it made you squirm. God, this man is the devil.

“Please…” You sigh, not even realizing that you said it.

“Whatever you want.” He hooks a finger around your underwear, dragging the lavender cloth down your legs slowly. He makes sure to actually take them off, and not let them pool around your ankles, and then spreads your legs just a bit. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I’m sure.”

That's all he needed before he put his mouth on you. Soft kisses that drive you crazy, hands grasping the duvet and teeth biting your lip. The pace is brutally slow, testing the waters. But he speeds up a bit. One hand under your leg, pulling you closer, the other on your clit, making slow circles as he eats you out.

If you thought he kissed you like a man starved, then you would be surprised at how he is once he truly tastes you. Hands grip you tightly, moving faster and faster as his tongue makes you cry out. He laps at your folds, tongue going in and out of you on occasion. You close your legs around his head, and he groans like you just gave him dessert. 

You’re so close, you can feel it. And he can too. But he pulls away at the last moment, wiping at his mouth. 

Sunghoon takes a moment to admire you. Naked from the waist down, a simple bra covering you. You’re panting, desperate to reach the orgasm that was cruelly ripped away from you by the man who almost gave you it.

You give him a look, and he gives you one back. “I’ll eat you out as many times as you want later, but right now I just wanna fuck you.”

“I’m on the pill.” You say.

He closes his eyes for a moment. “Is that enough for you? Cause I’ll go get condoms—”

“It’s enough.” You interrupt him, hand on the buckle of his jeans, slowly unworking it. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted something more than you want him right now. Maybe that’s insane to say, but you don’t care. Not when the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen is about to fuck you.

The two of you waste no time in taking off his jeans, and then his boxers. He also makes sure to take your bra off too.

You aren’t new to sex. It’s a very straightforward process. But sex with Sunghoon seems different. There's nothing wrong with him, it's just the fact you’ve known him for so long and he’s your best friend, and what if this ruins things?

“Hey.” He says, snapping you out of the trainwreck that is your thoughts. “Are you 100% sure? If you say no then I’ll stop, I promise.”

“It’s not that,” You pause, avoiding eye contact with him and his naked lower half. “I just don’t want this to ruin things.”

His hand goes to your waist, gentle and comforting. “This won’t ruin anything. I’ll still be in love with you after this, probably even more than I am right now.”

You think for a second before nodding. “Okay.”

“You still want this?”

“Yes, Sunghoon.” You say with a faux-annoyed face.

He gives you the most genuine smile as he presses his tip against you. The feeling sends a shock straight to your core, and you’ve never wanted anything more than you do right now. He rubs his tip up and down your folds, letting the pre-cum mix with the wetness that was pooling out of you. 

“I’ll go slow, okay?” Sunghoon pushes in slowly, true to his word. You wince, but not in pain. In pleasure. You’re completely engulfing his tip, and he’s looking at it like it’s the Mona Lisa. “Jesus Christ." His voice is low, gravely, and possibly the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. 

He continues to push, letting your pussy swallow him whole. When he’s finally in, he looks at you first to make sure you’re ready and that you’re still okay. It’s sweet, but you aren’t in the mood for sweet.

And somehow, he hears you loud and clear. He pulls back almost all the way, until it’s just the tip again, and slams into you. 

It has you gasping for air, grabbing the blanket, the pillow, him. He keeps up the pace. Brutal, yet slow. A harsh slam in, a slow drag out. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough.

“Sunghoon…” You whine.

“You want more?”

You nod, and he obliges immediately, snapping his hips into yours faster. You're moaning and writhing underneath him but he doesn’t stop. After all, this is what you wanted. 

It smells of sex, and the only sound you can hear is skin slapping, your whines, and his little groans. Back and forth and back and forth, it’s too much.

You can feel a pool in your core tightening, and in a moment of pure lust you wrap your legs around him and pull him closer.  “You’re fucking evil.” He almost growls, going faster if that was even possible.

Sunghoon’s as desperate as you are, slamming his hips into yours with strength and precision of a man who worked for this his entire life. You can barely form words, just moans as he goes in and out of you.

You tighten around him and he whines, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. But you don’t get a chance to focus on that. 

“I know honey, I know. Me too, sweet girl.”

His hips stutter, but he’s back on track, fucking you the way you deserve after weeks of psychological torture and cold showers on his part. He’s dreamed of this more times than you could imagine. But this is better than any dream of his. Because you’re under him, eyes shut in pleasure as he fucks the shit out of you the way he’s wanted for so long.

“I’m close.” You manage, hands grabbing on his biceps.

He speeds up. “You wanna cum?” You nod, a tear falling out of your eye from how good everything feels. As he drags himself in and out of you, a hand falls to your clit, rubbing fast circles. You let out a loud moan, only enticing him to keep going. “Come on honey, cum with me.”

He plays with your folds for a few more seconds before your hips buck without warning, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you come undone over his dick. Your legs shake around his abdomen, and you let out a silent cry. 

“Good girl. I’m so close okay? Where do you want me?” He asks, slowing down just a bit.

You’re still reeling from your orgasm and the fact he’s still fucking you. “Anywhere.”

He places both of his hands around you, caging you in as he pounds into you with no remorse, desperate for a release. He can feel you clenching around him, and that’s what sends him over the edge.

“Fuck!” His hips stutter for the final time, pressing into you fully. His head drops down, almost heavy from the week long torture. As he cums in you, his head drops down, almost heavy. You both don’t move for a bit, just staying still

It’s quiet. The only sound being breathing coming from the both of you.

“Did it ruin it?” He asks, breathlessly with a smirk.

“Fuck off!” You reply, lightly slapping his chest.

It was that very moment where you realized you couldn’t hear his thoughts anymore. You would miss the frantic array of thoughts that would show up when you did something miniscule to him, but you weren’t upset. This just meant he finally said all that he needed to say.

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[aesprn]

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[wonubug]

THE GIRL MADE IN CEBU ⭑

PAIRING: Idol!Hwang Intak x Café Worker!Reader

SUMMARY: When a handsome boy shows interest in you during his vacation in your hometown that turns into more than either of you expected, until he leaves with everything except for his heart that he left behind with the girl made in Cebu.

WC: 5.1k words

DISCLAIMERS: filipino baddie reader lowkey. This was kinda like. I had to. my family is from cebu and i was geeked seeing his pics yesterday okay? i miss my homeland. all fluff, it gets angsty, annnddddddd that’s it i think. ok pls enjoy ok? ur honorary filipino rn.

The afternoon sun filtered through the woven bamboo blinds of Café Hiraya, casting dancing shadows across the weathered wooden tables. You wiped down the counter for what felt like the hundredth time that day, the familiar scent of rich coffee and freshly baked pan de coco filling your lungs. Outside, the shore stretched endlessly, its turquoise waters glittering like scattered diamonds under the relentless Philippine sun.

It was the kind of slow Sunday that made you wonder why you'd chosen to work the closing shift…although that was just 1-8:00pm. Most of the lunch crowd had dispersed hours ago, leaving only the older local at his usual corner table, nursing his third cup of coffee while reading yesterday's newspaper.

The cafe had always been your sanctuary — your small slice of paradise where the city’s storm couldn't quite reach and where the sound of waves provided a constant, soothing soundtrack to your days.

The bell above the door chimed.

You looked up from your phone, your practiced customer service smile already in place, and felt the words of greeting die in your throat. The boy who walked in was... well, he was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Tall (at least taller than you), and lean. He had dark hair that fell across his forehead in a way that suggested he'd been running his hands through it.

He wore a simple white linen shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and light-colored pants that looked both casual and expensive. But it was his face that caught you — sharp jawline, pouty lips, and eyes that sparkled with one glance.

"Hi," He greeted, and even that single syllable carried an accent that made your heart skip. "Still open?"

Okay, well what do YOU think, smart guy.

You realized you'd been staring. "Oh, yes! Of course. Welcome to Café Hiraya." You gestured to the empty tables. "Sit anywhere you'd like."

He chose a table by the window, naturally, where the view was best. As he settled into his chair, you grabbed a menu and a glass of water, trying to calm the sudden flutter in your chest. It wasn't like you'd never seen attractive tourists before — Cebu had plenty of them. But something about him felt different.

"Here's our menu," You said, setting both down in front of him. "The barako coffee is our specialty, but we also have fresh coconut water, or our mango graham float is really popular."

He looked up at you, and the full force of his smile hit you like a wave. "What do you recommend?"

"Honestly? Our house coffee and a slice of ube cheesecake."

"Then I trust you," He grinned softly, handing the menu back. "I'm Intak, by the way."

You introduced yourself, and when he repeated your name, testing it out with his accent, something warm bloomed in your chest. "Are you visiting Cebu?"

"Yeah, just a week or so. I wanted to get away for a bit, and a friend recommended the Philippines. Said it was beautiful." His eyes drifted to the window and the endless blue beyond before turning back to you, his eyes scanning you once over. "He wasn't wrong."

Okay…. smooth.

"Well, you picked a good spot. This café has the best sunset view on this side of the island." You glanced at the clock. "You've got about two hours if you want to stick around for it."

"I think I will," He said with a nod, and the way he looked at you made you wonder if he was talking about more than just the sunset.

You retreated to the counter, trying to ignore how aware you were of his presence as you prepared his order. Your older customer on the other side of the café had fallen asleep in his corner, his newspaper draped across his chest, leaving you and Intak as the café's only conscious occupants.

The espresso machine hissed and gurgled, and you found yourself taking extra care with the presentation, arranging the ube cheesecake just so on the plate.

When you brought his order over, Intak was scrolling through his phone, but he set it aside immediately, giving you his full attention. "This looks good."

"Wait until you taste it! — My lola’s recipe." You meant to walk away, to give him space, but he gestured to the empty chair across from him.

"Do you want to sit? If you're not too busy, I mean. I don't want to get you in trouble."

You glanced around the empty café. "I can spare a few minutes."

And that was how it started — with you sitting across from a beautiful stranger, watching him take his first sip of barako coffee. His eyes widened, and he let out a small sound of appreciation that made you grin.

"Oh — It's so rich!”

"It's a local staple. Stronger than most coffee, but it’s nice, right? Some people find it too intense."

"I like it intense," He said, and there was something in his tone that made your cheeks warm.

The conversation flowed easier than it had any right to. He told you about being from Korea and how he currently resided in Seoul. He talked about the relentless pace of city life and how he'd been craving something different, and more real.

You told him about growing up in Cebu and about how you'd left to Manila for college but had come back, drawn by the beauty of your home and the coastal beauty you'd missed more than you'd expected — but most importantly, you had missed your quiet life.

"Do you ever want to leave again?" He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

"Sometimes," You admitted. "When things get too routine. But then I come here, or I go down to the beach early in the morning when no one else is around, and I remember why I stayed. This peaceful life is the wish I continuously prayed for.”

Intak nodded slowly, like he understood. "I spend so much time moving around that I forget what it's like to have a place that feels like home."

"Is that why you're here? Are you looking for that feeling?"

"Maybe." He said before taking a bite of the ube cheesecake and … groaned. "Oh my god.”

You laughed, and the sound felt lighter than it had in weeks. “Good?”

“Ang sarap.” His broken tagalog made you burst into a fit of giggles, his mouth half full catching you off guard.

“Who taught you that?!”

Intak swallowed his food, covering his lips with his finger before speaking. “This cute old lady at a restaurant last night...”

The evening settled further as you talked. You learned that Intak liked to sing, though he was vague about the details, and that he had a smile that could light up a room and a laugh that was completely uninhibited. He asked about your life with genuine interest, remembering small details and asking follow-up questions that made you feel seen in a way you hadn't in a long time.

When the sun finally began its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and purple, you both fell silent, watching the spectacle through the window. The sea reflected the colors back, turning the world into something magical and temporary.

"You were right," Intak said softly. "Best view on the island."

"I never lie," You replied, and when he turned to look at you, his face gilded in golden light, your breath caught.

"What time do you close?" He asked.

"Officially? Twenty minutes ago. But, Mr. Ocampo over there..” You nudged toward the older gentleman… “Is still here, so..." You shrugged.

As if on cue, Mr. Ocampo snorted awake, looked around in confusion, then shuffled to the counter to pay. You excused yourself to handle the transaction, and by the time you'd seen him out and locked the door, Intak had cleared his table and brought his dishes to the counter.

"You didn't have to do that," You said.

"I know. But you said you’d been working all day." He hesitated, then asked, "Do you have plans tonight?"

Your heart hammered. "Nothing."

"Would you want to... join me on the beach? Show me around a little?”

You laughed. "Like what, a date? You just met me." Your voice came off teasingly but his eyebrows raised.

"And so what?" He smiled softly. "I like talking to you. I'd like to do more of it, if you're interested."

You should have said no. You should have recognized this for what it was — a tourist looking for a holiday fling, a story to tell his friends back home. But there was something in his eyes that was genuine and hopeful.. it made you throw caution to the wind.

"Let me close up," You smiled. "I know a place."

The beach you took him to was a local secret, a small cove tucked away from the main tourist areas. The sand was soft and white beneath your bare feet, and the water lapped gently at the shore, bioluminescent plankton creating tiny sparks of blue-green light with each wave.

Intak breathed, staring at the glowing water. "I've never seen anything like this."

"It doesn't happen every night," You said, walking along the water's edge. "We got lucky."

He fell into step beside you, close enough that your arms occasionally brushed. "I'm starting to think luck has nothing to do with it."

A flutter rose up your entire body.

You talked as you walked, your conversation picking up where it had left off in the café. He told you about his dreams, about a strange dichotomy of being surrounded by people but feeling alone. You told him about your own dreams, the ones you'd put on hold, and the ones you were still chasing.

"Do you ever regret it?" Intak asked. "Coming back here instead of staying in a different city?"

"Sometimes," You admitted. "But regret is complicated. I think we regret the things we don't do more than the things we do, you know? At least here, I'm choosing this life. I'm not just letting it happen to me."

He stopped walking, turning to face you. The moon was rising now, adding its silver light to the glowing water. "That's brave."

“Mm.. that’s just how I live."

"No," He insisted. "It’s brave. Most people—myself included—just go along with what's expected. We don't stop to ask if it's what we actually want."

"And what do you want?" You asked softly.

Intak looked at you for a long moment, and you could see him wrestling with something. Finally, he said, "Right now? I want to be here. With you.“

Your heart was racing, but you managed to keep your voice steady. "I can work with that."

His smile was like the sun breaking through clouds. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You stayed on the beach until late, sitting in the sand and talking about everything and nothing. When he finally walked you home, which wasn’t too far from the café, he didn't try to kiss you, but the way he looked at you like you were something precious and temporary, made you feel like he wanted to.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" He asked at your door.

"I open… but I’m off at two o’clock."

"I'll come by the café."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to," He said firmly. "Besides, I need to try more of that menu. For research purposes."

You laughed. "Mhm. Okay."

"Very serious research," He said solemnly, but his eyes were dancing.

After he left, you leaned against your door and wondered what you were getting yourself into.

Intak came by the café every day after that.

Sometimes he'd arrive early, ordering breakfast and sitting by the window with a book, looking up to smile at you whenever you passed.

Other times he'd show up in the afternoon, timing his visit to coincide with your break so you could sit with him. He tried everything on the menu, declaring each item his new favorite, making you laugh with his dramatic reactions to the flavors.

But the real magic happened after your shifts.

He'd wait for you to finish, and then you'd take him somewhere new.

You took him to a hidden spot of waterfalls in the mountains, where the water was so cold it took your breath away as the two of you took a dip.

That evening you took him to a local market, where you taught him how to haggle and he charmed the vendors with his terrible but enthusiastic Tagalog.

"You're a really good tour guide," Intak said one afternoon as you shared halo-halo at a roadside stand. It was day number five of spending time together…. only a few more days left.

"Mmm — I see it more as a local with a huge heart for her home." A pause. “Besides, I’m pretty sure tour guides get paid.” You eyed him jokingly.

He grinned. "What's your rate?"

"More than you can afford probably.” You teased, causing him to softly elbow your side.

The woman running the stand watched you with knowing eyes, and when you went to pay, she waved you off with casual Tagalog. You tried to protest, but she was insistent, and as you walked away, Intak asked, "What did she say?"

"She said it was on the house."

Liar.

Well not really… you just told half the truth. It was on the house! But she had actually said: It’s okay, I insist. Your love for each other is refreshing and sweet. You two remind me of my husband and I.

"Really?"

You bumped your shoulder against his. "It was close enough."

Later that evening, the two of you ducked into a small shop near the pier while Intak was taking photos of the boats. You'd been thinking about getting a little gift for your mom — maybe one of those shell wind chimes she liked, or a woven bag.

The shop was cramped and cluttered in the best way, packed with postcards and keychains, dried mangoes and instant coffee made by local brands. You were examining a display of handmade jewelry when a magazine rack near the counter caught your eye.

More specifically, the face on one of the magazines caught your eye.

You froze.

It was Intak… Unmistakably Intak, though his hair was a different color and he wore stage makeup that made him look almost unreal. He was surrounded by five other guys, all of them impossibly beautiful, all of them striking dramatic poses.

The magazine was Korean, the text indecipherable to you, but the group name was clear enough in English letters… P1Harmony..?

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the magazine. There were more photos inside — performance shots, behind-the-scenes images, interviews in Korean. Intak in every single one, laughing with his members, dancing on stage, looking every bit the idol you'd somehow never realized he was.

"You find something nice?" The shopkeeper askedz

You barely heard her. Your mind was reeling. Intak…? Was in a K-pop group. Okay. And he'd never said a word.

Sure.. maybe you didn’t have a clue about Korean music beyond the face of BTS or Blackpink… but you thought… this could’ve been vital information for him to share..? That explains his love for singing and “performance”…. kinda.

You bought the magazine without really thinking about it, tucking it into your bag like evidence. When you found Intak outside, he was showing his photos to a group of local kids who'd gathered around him to take pictures making each other laugh with exaggerated expressions.

He looked up when you approached, his whole face lighting up "Hey, find anything?"

"Yeah," You smiled, your voice sounding strange even to your own ears. "Can I ask you something?"

His smile faltered at your tone. "Yeah. What's wrong?"

You led him away from the pier, to a quieter spot near the seawall. Your heart was pounding, though you weren't even sure why. It wasn't like he'd done anything wrong, exactly. But the omission felt huge, like there'd been this entire part of him you hadn't known existed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You asked, pulling the magazine from your bag.

The color drained from his face. He stared at the magazine, then at you, his expression stricken. "I—"

"You're in a boy band…?" You continued, still trying to process it yourself. "And you just... never mentioned it?"

"I'm sorry." He ran his hand through his hair, looking more vulnerable than you'd ever seen him. "I should have told you. I know I should have—“

"Don’t get me wrong! I think it’s really cool," You said softly, looking down at the magazine in your hands. "I mean, this whole time I’ve been buddying up a Kpop Idol. That's insane."

He blinked, surprised. "You... I— really?"

"Of course." You smiled softly at him, genuine. "You get to perform, create music, travel the world. That's really cool."

Relief flooded his features, but you could see the question still lingering there. .. just why didn't he tell you?

"But I..." You tried to find the right words. "I'm confused why you didn't mention it. I wouldn't have treated you differently or anything."

"I know," He said quickly. "I know you wouldn't have. That's exactly why I didn't want to say anything. Because the moment people know, everything changes. Even when they try not to let it, it does." He ran his hand through his hair. "With you, I got to just... exist. And I was selfish enough to want to keep that."

You understood. But as you looked at him — the sweet, genuine boy who'd wandered into your café and somehow … somewhere into your heart — something else settled in your chest.

It was something a little heavier and beyond whatever this already was.

"You must be so busy..?” You said quietly. "With schedules and touring and everything?”

"Mhm." He nodded. "It's pretty constant. We're actually in the middle of preparing for a comeback, which is why I only have this bit of time to get away."

Right. This bit of time.

You'd known from the start that he was going to be leaving, that this was only temporary. But for some reason you'd let yourself forget the weight of that reality. Now, holding this magazine with his face on the cover, you couldn't ignore it anymore.

You thought about your life — the quiet mornings at the café, the sound of waves outside your window, the simplicity of knowing your neighbors and walking the same streets every day. You'd built this peaceful existence intentionally. You'd told him as much, hadn't you? How you loved the slowness of your life, how you never wanted to leave home again, and how you'd chosen this quiet path of life.

He lived in a completely different world where stages and cameras and obligations that pulled him in a thousand directions was normal. A world that would never slow down and never stop demanding more of him.

He craved what you had naturally — this normal, peaceful way of living. But you could never fully give him that, not while he had those responsibilities waiting for him back home. And you... you couldn't follow him into his world even if he asked. You didn't want that life. You'd never wanted that life.

The realization settled over you like the evening tide — gentle but inevitable.

This was always going to be temporary… and it settled deeper as your lives were simply incompatible in a way that no amount of feeling could fix.

But who are you kidding? This was always supposed to be a vacation fling for him… a you were allowing it.

"Hey." Intak's voice pulled you back. He was watching you with concern. "You okay? You got quiet."

You looked at him.. the boy who made you laugh, who tried balut for you, who held your hand like you were something precious. The boy you were absolutely, undeniably falling for.

"Yeah," You said, and meant it. "I'm okay."

Because you were. This hurt, yes — this quiet acceptance of what couldn't be. But it didn't make what you had any less real. It didn't make these moments any less worth having.

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. "Thank you for telling me.“

"Of course." He squeezed your hand, relief evident in his expression.

“My knowledge for Kpop isn’t really … big. No wonder I had no idea.” You confess.

He smiled. “I think that’s cute.”

Your expression mirrored his. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Only if you want me to…” He raised his brow.

"I'd love that," You admitted.

So he did. He told you about training, about debut, and about his five other members who were like brothers. He told you about the exhaustion and the exhilaration, about performing and creating, and about the parts he loved and the parts that were hard.

You listened, asking questions, learning about this whole other world he inhabited. And through it all, he was still just Intak.

Your Intak….

Yours for however long you had left with him at least.

The rest of your days blurred together in the best way. You learned that Intak was great with children, and that he had a habit of humming under his breath when he was happy. He took photos of everything — food, views, and of you… when you weren't looking. You learned that he was kind to everyone he met, that he tipped generously, and that he listened more than he talked.

And he learned you. He learned that you liked your coffee sweet with lots of sugar, you had a habit of picking at your eyebrows when you were nervous, and that you named of all the stray cats in your neighborhood. He learned more about your dreams and your fears, your favorite songs and your worst memories…

It was easy, being with him. And it was even easier to forget just how temporary this was.

One night, you took him to a local bar where a band was playing. The music was loud and joyful, a mix of covers and original songs that had the whole place singing along.. come on, it’s the Philippines!

Intak tugged you onto the makeshift dance floor, and despite his earlier insistence that he was only a mediocre dancer, he proved himself a liar almost immediately—though you had already clocked it as bullshit the second he said it, considering he’s literally an idol.

"See, you lied!" You shouted over the music. "You can dance!"

He spun you around, pulling you back against his chest. His breath was warm against your ear as he said, "I’m just a little humble."

The song changed to something slower, and the energy in the room shifted. Couples paired off, swaying together, and Intak's arms came around your waist, holding you close. You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek, and let yourself pretend that this was real, that this wasn't just a vacation fling, that he wasn't leaving in three days.

"What are you thinking about?" He murmured.

"Nothing," You lied.

His arms tightened around you. "You're a terrible liar."

"I'm thinking about how this is nice," You said with a shy smile, and it was true.

"It is nice," He agreed. "Really nice."

The both of you stayed like that through two more songs, and when you finally left the bar, Intak kept his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close as you walked through the warm night.

"I don't want to go back to my hotel," He said suddenly.

Your heart jumped. "What do you want to do?"

"Can we go back to that beach? The one with the glowing water?" You smiled at that.

And so you did. You took him back to the cove, and this time when you walked along the shore, Intak held your hand. His fingers laced through yours felt right in a way that scared you.

"I've been thinking," He said after a while.

"Ouh, is that a good thing or bad thing..."

He laughed softly. "I've been thinking about how strange this is… How I came here not knowing anyone, not expecting anything, and then I walked into your café and everything changed."

"Changed … how?" You asked, even though you knew. You felt it too. You’ve been feeling it.

"It's like... when you're traveling and everything feels temporary…“ He stopped walking, turning to face you. "It doesn't feel like that with you. It feels real."

"Intak—"

"I know," He said quickly. "I know I'm leaving soon. I'm not trying to make this complicated. I just wanted you to know that this—" He gestured between you, "This matters to me. You matter to me."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning and impossibility. You wanted to tell him that he mattered to you too, that these past few days had been some of the best of your life, that the thought of him leaving made your chest ache.

Saying it out loud would make it real and it would make the ending hurt more.

Instead, you stepped closer and… kissed him.

Probably an even worse idea.

He made a small sound of surprise, then his arms came around you, pulling you flush against him. The kiss was soft and sweet and tinged with desperation, like you were both trying to memorize the moment. When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathing hard.

"I've wanted to do that since the first day," Intak admitted, his forehead resting against yours.

"Why didn't you?"

"I was trying to be respectful. Trying not to be that guy who—" He broke off, laughing ruefully. "Well actually, I guess I failed anyways."

"I'm glad you failed," You said quietly before he kissed you again, but on his own terms.

You stayed on the beach until dawn, talking and kissing and watching the stars wheel overhead. When the sun started to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, Intak pulled you close, and you let yourself imagine, just for a moment, that this didn't have to end.

His last two days in Cebu passed in a blur of bittersweet moments.

You called in sick — something you never really did —letting your cousins take over at the café. They didn’t question it, not after meeting him which had been inevitable. The moment he stepped into your world, even just for a second, your family had swarmed him with warmth. Teasing, praising, fussing over him like he’d always belonged there but then came the realization.. and the fangirling.

It only lasted an hour, but it was enough. Your family could be a lot on a normal day, and today was anything but normal and you could tell, under the polite smiles and his sweet laughs, that all he really wanted was what he came here for in the first place.. a quiet week where he didn’t have to be anyone but himself.

So of course, you spent every possible moment with him. You took him to your favorite breakfast stand, where the vendor knew your order by heart. You brought him by the church you attended your whole life until you were fourteen. You showed him the tree you used to climb as a child, the school where you'd learned to read, the corner store where you'd bought your first romance book with your first ever pay check.

"I love how you’re re-living your whole life to teach me," Intak said softly.

"I want you to understand," You smiled. "I want you to know why I stayed."

"I do understand," He said, taking your hand. "And I'm grateful. For all of it. For you."

That night, you took him to the nicest restaurant you knew, a place perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean. It was expensive, the kind of place you'd only been to once before, for your college graduation.

But Intak insisted, and you didn't have the heart to argue.

Over fresh seafood and local wine, you talked about everything except the obvious. He told you more stories about his friends back home. You told him about your family, about your father’s cooking and your mom’s terrible jokes.

After dinner, you walked (something you both clearly have been doing consistently) along the cliff path, the ocean crashing against the rocks below. The wind was strong, whipping your hair around your face, and Intak kept having to tuck it back, his fingers gentle against your cheek.

"Come with me," He said suddenly.

You stopped walking. "What?"

"Come with me. Back to Seoul. I know it's crazy, I know we've only known each other for so little, but—" He took both your hands in his. "I don't want this to end. I don't want to say goodbye to you."

Your heart was breaking and soaring at the same time. "Intak, I can't just leave. My job, my family, my life.. it's all here… I could never live my life with the life you have..”

"I know. I know, and I'm being selfish even asking. But I had to say it. I had to at least try."

You pulled him into a hug, burying your face in his chest. "I wish I could. I wish things were different."

"Me too," He whispered into your hair.

You stayed like that for a long time, holding each other against the wind and the inevitable.

His flight was at noon.

You met him at his hotel in the morning, finding him in the lobby with his suitcase, looking tired and sad and beautiful. When he saw you, his face lit up, and you had to blink back tears.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," He said.

"Of course I came."

You'd planned to ride with him to the airport, to drag out every last minute, but standing there in the hotel lobby, you realized you couldn't do it. You couldn't watch him walk through security, couldn't wave goodbye and then drive home alone.

"I think I need to say goodbye here," You said, your voice shaking. Intak's face crumpled, but he nodded. "If that's what you need."

You stepped closer, reaching up to cup his face. "Thank you. For everything."

"Thank you," He said. "For showing me your world.“

"Will you—" You had to stop, had to swallow past the lump in your throat. "Will you remember me?"

"Are you kidding?" He laughed, but it came out broken. "I'm never going to forget you. It's going to stay with me forever."

"Good," You whispered. "That's good."

You kissed him one last time, trying to pour everything you felt into it — all the joy and the sadness, the gratitude and the grief. When you pulled away, there were tears on both your faces.

"I have to go," You said.

"I know."

"Have a safe flight."

"I will."

You made yourself turn around. Made yourself walk toward the door and you were almost there until you heard him call your name.. so you looked back.

"If you ever change your mind," He started. "If you ever want to visit Seoul, or if you just want to talk, or if you—" He pulled out his phone. "I don’t know why I haven’t asked for your number.”

A week of constant companionship, and you'd never thought to exchange numbers. Maybe because some part of you had known that having a way to contact him would make this harder than it already was.

So you declined. Explaining to him why.. and he understood.

He gave you his number anyway. You were unsure if you were going to text it.. but he insisted in case you changed your mind.

And you accepted.

"Goodbye," You smiled.

"Goodbye," He whispered.

This time when you walked away, you didn't look back.

The café felt empty without him.

You went back to work the next day, falling into your old routine, but everything felt different. The coffee tasted the same, the view was just as beautiful, but there was a Intak-shaped hole in your world now, and you didn't know how to fill it.

You hadn’t messaged him once. You knew if you did, it would just hurt you more. So instead, you’d search his name on the internet — see what he and his group were up to and feel the tug in your heart every time you saw his face.

A couple months after he left, a package arrived at the café. Inside was a framed photo — one you didn't even know was taken.

It was from the night you went out to that bar, the two of you caught in a haze of music and heat, holding each other while you swayed with wide, unguarded smiles.

Sometime that night, without you knowing, he had pressed his camera into a stranger’s hands, trusting them to capture a moment he already knew he wouldn’t want to forget. In the photo, your hands rest against his chest, his settled at your waist, the two of you pulled close like the rest of the world had fallen away.

Your heart ached at the note it came with.

For the girl who showed me what home could feel like. Thank you for the best week of my life. I hope you're still chasing your dreams. I hope you're still choosing your life. And I hope, someday, our paths cross again.

Until then, I'll be thinking of you every time I see the ocean.

Ang puso ko ay sayo , Intak ♡

🔖 @seobmoji @chccnne @endoll @wdcsvt @aesprn @wonwounds @seobsongz @xionvlog @kamxstar @cchocochipandy @alienslostinworld @theosflower @pxronbeat1 @applewormz @innatelydustyquake @kyoluvrs

💌 mika’s message! this fic was mainly for me ok. i filipino. this was lowkey rushed but i tried my best…….. if u hate it just act like u like it ok! thank u. i’m kinda emo abt it idk im so patriotic. Ok Bye.

[aesprn]

feeling mabuhay atm

[endoll]

drop dead ꩜ 西村 力

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ after you see your best friends boyfriend hanging out with a cute guy, you’re determined to get him .ᐟ.ᐟ .⋆♱ lowk inspired by drop dead by olivia rodrigo, last 3 ss is like an epilogue okay? Made this while i was getting ready for class that i didnt end up going to

🏷️ @chccnne @clearlyhoonie @wobblymug @heedimples @heeunleash @heeseungsvocals @mystgene @wonubug @seobmoji @aesprn @enhoonxx

[aesprn]

awwing in history class rn

[seobmoji]

ft. h. shota : One and Only

─── 📁. after months of being private, you and your boyfriend finally decide to go public!

small smau, just fluff really anddd that’s it! nonidol!shota but u can just imagine whatever ngl :p OKI oh and wonbin cameo and minju cameo cuz i love them ok? ok.

A/N: him only posting her ok. reader being cat whisperer while shota is dog whisperer ok. SIGHHHHH HAI MIKA.

🏷️ @wonubug @endoll @chccnne @aesprn @wonwounds @kamxstar @cherryhazy @seonghwaswifeuuuu (want tags for any and all things p1harmony? email me!)

[aesprn]

HEAR ME OUT 🧠

PLOT! AITA for using my best friends inner thoughts to fuck with him throughout the week until he is forced to admit his feelings for me out loud?

CONTENT! Sunghoon/Fem!Reader, Fluff, Reader can hear thoughts, Bestie!Sunghoon, Sunghoon acts nonchalant, His thoughts tell a different story, SMUT minors ++ ageless blogs dni, Top!Sunghoon, Soft Dom!Sunghoon, Desperate!Sunghoon, P in V, Unprotected Sex (pls wrap b4 u tap), Oral (f receiving), Yearner!Sunghoon, I believe this is considered psychological warfare, Y/n is a literal menace.

AUTHORS NOTE! got this plot from a randomr eddit video i saw on tiktok where the girl was married to this nonchalant guy and she could suddenly hear his thoughts and he was such a loser who wanted her so badd OOOOH sunghoon ur perfect for this bend over.

WORD COUNT! 7.2k!!!

It was a cold January night when it first happened.

You were on the couch, watching Silence of the Lambs (aka the most absurd movie ever) with your best friend, Park Sunghoon. It was your weekly movie night, and last time was at his place, so this time was at yours. 

The setup was the same as always. Blanket split unevenly between the two of you—his fault, it’s always his fault—your legs tucked underneath you, his stretched out across the coffee table like he owned the place. Which, at this point, was basically true. Sunghoon had a key. He knew where the good snacks were hidden. He’d argued with you about your IKEA furniture assembly and been right about it. If that didn’t make someone a co-owner, nothing did.

“This movie is not scary,” he said flatly, reaching into the popcorn bowl on your lap without looking away from the screen.

“I never said it was scary. I said it was disturbing. There’s a difference.”

“Well it’s neither.”

“A man is making a suit out of human skin, Sunghoon.”

“I’ve seen worse.”

You looked at him. “Where?”

He paused. “Nature documentaries.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, and something shifted in his expression. Barely anything, just the faintest softening in the corner of his eyes. It was so quick you almost missed it. Almost.

That was the thing about Park Sunghoon. On the outside, he was the picture of composure. Unhurried. Unbothered. The kind of person who could be late to his own birthday party and somehow make everyone else feel like they’d arrived too early. He was like that in class, too. Front row, never frantic, taking notes in that annoyingly neat handwriting of his while everyone around him was three lectures behind and quietly spiraling.

You had met him in your first year, in a mandatory elective neither of you wanted to be in. He’d sat next to you because it was the only seat left, and when the professor had asked everyone to introduce themselves to the person beside them, he had looked at you and said—very seriously—"How fast do you think we could get through this syllabus if we actually tried?”

You had been best friends ever since.

It made sense, in the way that certain things just did. You moved at the same pace. You thought the same things were funny. You could sit in silence for hours and it never felt like anything needed to be filled. He was the person you called when something went wrong and also when something went right. Somewhere along the way those two categories had quietly expanded to include everything in between.

Which was fine. Completely fine. You were not in love with your best friend.

You were almost certain.

On screen, Clarice was walking into the dark. You shifted on the couch, tugging the blanket back toward your side, and Sunghoon let you without comment. This meant he wasn’t paying attention. You glanced over at him.

He was looking at the TV, jaw resting on his hand, expression perfectly neutral. His hair was a little messy—he had come straight from practice, changed into a hoodie in your bathroom, and left his back by the door like he always did. There was something easy about having him here. Something that had started feeling dangerously close to necessary.

You looked back at the screen.

That was when it happened.

No warning. No build-up. No cinematic crack of lightning or sudden ringing in your ears. One moment there was the sound of Clarice's heavy breathing, the low ambient noise of your apartment, the rustle of the blanket—

And then there was a voice.

She always laughs like that when she’s actually surprised. Like she tried to hold it in and lost.

You froze.

The voice was his. Not out loud. His mouth hadn’t moved, you looked right at him. But it was unmistakably Sunghoon’s voice, low and even, like he was narrating a novel.

You didn’t move.

She’s been using the same shampoo since second year. I don’t know why I know that.

Your heart stopped. You turned very slowly to look at him. He was still watching the movie. Completely still, completely unaware. The popcorn bowl was between you and he reached into it again without looking and his arm brushed yours and—

Don’t make it weird. Don’t make it weird. You’re fine. She’s just… A pause. She’s right there.

You stared at him, but he didn’t stare back. He watched Anthony Hopkins monologue as if absolutely nothing was happening, as if his internal voice had not just short-circuited your entire brain, and you sat there in the blue light of your TV thinking: what the fuck.

You didn’t sleep well that night. 

Not because of the movie. The movie was fine. Buffalo Bill was unsettling on a conceptual level but you’d watched it twice before and you had a high threshold for cinematic weirdness. No, you didn’t sleep because you laid in bed staring at the ceiling and replayed every single thing you’d heard for the remaining forty minutes of the film.

And there had been a lot.

Her apartment always smells like that candle. I should figure out what scent it is. For no reason.

She’s cold. She’s not going to say anything. She’ll just suffer. I should—and then he’d shifted and tugged part of the blanket over to your side without a word, like he’d just decided something.

Two more weeks until her birthday. I already know what I’m getting her. I’ve known for three months. That’s normal… that's a normal amount of time to know

She’s laughing again. Okay. Cool. I’m fine.

You rolled over and pressed your face into the pillow.

Park Sunghoon. Your best friend. The most unreadable person you had ever met in our life, who apparently had an entire internal monologue dedicated to noticing things about you. Your laugh, your shampoo, your candle, the way you got cold and didn’t say so. And he never let any of it reach his face.

For how long? How long had this been happening?

You thought about the soft look he’d tried to hide when you laughed. You thought about the blanket. You thought about I’ve known for three months, that’s normal—

You groaned into your pillow. This was a lot of information to receive on a Tuesday.

The next morning, you tested it.

Sunghoon had a habit of coming over early on Wednesdays because you both had the same 10 am lecture and he lived closer to your building than campus. It was an arrangement that had started practically and continued sentimentally, which was very on-brand for your entire friendship.

You knocked at 8:52. You opened the door in your oversized sweatshirt and immediately, before he’d even said hello—

She looks good in the mornings. She always looks good in the mornings. Fuck, thats extremly inconvenient.

You felt your face do something. You couldn’t control it.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing.” You stepped back. “I made coffee.”

He came in, dropped his bag, accepted the mug you handed him, and leaned against your kitchen counter with the air of someone who had never experienced a chaotic thought in his life. You watched him over the rim of your own mug and waited.

She’s staring.

It’s fine. She stares sometimes. It means nothing. Don’t read into it. 

… She’s still staring.

“I’m not staring,” you said, more like blurted.

He looked at you. “I didn’t say you were.”

Fuck. “You were thinking it.” You said, which was technically true in the most unhinged way possible.

Sunghoon looked at you for a moment longer than necessary. Then he took a sip of his coffee. “Okay,” he said, in a tone that meant he had filed this away and would return to it later.

You needed a plan.

Here’s what you knew:

Sunghoon was not going to say anything. That was simply not how he worked. He could think about your shampoo and memorize your candle scent and spend three months deciding on a birthday gift and still show up every Wednesday looking like a man without a single complicated feeling. He would do this indefinitely. He would probably take it to his grave.

And you—you, who had spent the better part of a year trying very hard not to notice the way he looked at you sometimes—were not going to wait for a grave.

So you made a decision.

You were going to give Park Sunghoon exactly what he wanted. Piece by piece. Situation by situation, all of it carefully constructed so that he thought it was happening naturally. And at the end of it, he was going to have no choice but to say it out loud.

All you had to do was listen.

It started small. 

Friday night, you invited him to the convenience store. Normal enough, you did this roughly once a week, usually for ramen and whatever snack had rotated its way onto the seasonal shelf. But this time, on the way back, you chose the path along the river instead of the shortcut through the carpark.

It was cold enough that your breath fogged the air. The streetlights caught in the water. You had your hands tucked into your sleeves, thinking that this had been a good idea when Sunghoon’s voice materialized quietly in your head.

I always want to walk this way. She never wants to walk this way.

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Isn’t this nicer?”

A beat passed. “Yeah.” He said. He was looking ahead, but something in his shoulders had settled. “It is.”

She remembered.

He didn’t say it out loud, of course he didn’t. But you heard it, warm and quiet, and you had to look away before your face gave you away completely.

The next one was trickier.

You were in the library, 3rd floor, your usual table by the window. While you worked through problem sets, Sunghoon arrived twenty minutes later and folded himself into the seat next to you. He unpacked in silence, which was normal. Then he went quiet in that particular way he had where he was trying to figure something out and didn’t want to ask for help, which you also knew, because you knew all of his silences.

You waited.

I could just ask her. She’d explain it without making me feel stupid. She never makes me feel stupid.

But then she’ll know I didn’t understand the lecture and she’ll—

She won’t care. She genuinely will not give two shits.

Obviously I know that. That’s not the issue, the issue is that shes—

A pause.

She’s the only person I actually want help from. Is that a weird thing to feel this strongly about?

You looked up from your notes. “Do you want me to walk you through the regression model? I had to redo it like twice before it clicked.” Not technically a lie.

Sunghoon looked up at you.

“I’m serious,” you said, keeping your face carefully neutral. “It’s faster if we do it together.”

Something moved behind his eyes. Not readable: it never quite was. But it was there. He slid his notebook across the table toward you. “Okay.”

You worked through it side by side, your handwriting appearing in the margins of his notes, carefully avoiding his various doodles across the page. Your shoulders pressed close together so you could feel the warmth of him. And under everything, you could hear him thinking:

This is my favorite way to study. This is my favorite way to do a lot of things.

Then came the party.

Jungwon’s birthday parties had a reputation. What started as a small gathering with a reasonable headcount always turned into something completely different by 11 pm. More people, more noise, more empty bottles lined up along the windowsill like a timeline of bad decisions. You had been to enough of them to know to eat beforehand.

You arrived a little after 10. Sunghoon was already there—you found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a drink in his hand, talking to someone from his major with the energy of a person attending a very calm business lunch. Completely unbothered. Completely composed.

You felt him notice you before he looked up.

There she is.

Warm. Immediate. Like a reflex he’d long stopped trying to correct.

You made your way over and he handed you a drink without being asked, already knowing. Smirnoff Ice Raspberry. What a gentleman.

“How long have you been here?” You asked him.

“An hour.”

“An hour and you’re already relaxed?” You say, gesturing to what you can clearly tell is not his first drink of the night.

“I’m always relaxed.”

I am not relaxed. Her outfit is so small and I’ve been here an hour just wondering when she would show up and she shows up in that!

You took a sip of your drink to hide your expression.

By eleven, the party had done its inevitable thing. The hallway was full, the music was louder, and someone had started a game in the living room that you’d opted out of on principle. You weren’t really in the mood to kiss random men when you had one pining over you in his head. 

You were on your 3rd drink, warm at the edges, feeling the particular looseness that came from just enough and not too much.

Sunghoon was on something closer to his fifth.

You could tell only because you knew him. To anyone else, he looked exactly the same. Same posture, same unhurried delivery, same expression that gave away absolutely nothing. He was holding his cup with the same quiet authority he held everything. Responding to people in full, measured sentences.

But his thoughts.

She laughed at something. I didn’t hear what it was. Doesn’t matter, I’d listen to her laugh for an unreasonable amount of time and never get tired. I’ve accepted that.

You pressed your lips together and did your best to bite back the blush running towards your cheeks.

Her drink is almost empty. I should—a pause, like he was negotiating with himself—no. That’s too obvious. She can get her own. She doesn’t need me to—

You watched him glance at your cup from across the room, completely imperceptibly, and then look away.

Fuck this. I can’t let anyone here think she’s single. Even though she is. Fuck.

He appeared by your side sixty seconds later and held one out. You took it.

“Thank you!” You said.

“Mhm.” He looked at the room.

She smells like that candle again. She must’ve been home before this. God I’m pathetic.

You stared very hard at a window across the room and reminded yourself to breathe normally.

It got worse—better, actually—as the night went on.

You found a quieter corner of the apartment, as you usually did, and the party moved around you while you stayed still. This was your pattern. Your orbit. Sunghoon stood close enough that your shoulders almost touched and talked to you in that low, even voice of his about nothing important—a lecture, a teammate, something Sunoo had said earlier that had mildly irritated him.

I think about telling her all the time. Like, constantly. It’s become a problem. I’ll be in the middle of something completely unrelated and I’ll just—think about her. The way she argued about things she cares about. The way she falls asleep during movies and then insists she wasn’t sleeping.

She’s always sleeping. I never say anything. I let her have it. I’d let her have everything if that’s what she wanted

Later, the crowd thinned. Someone swapped the music for something slower and the kitchen light cast everything in a warm gold. You were feeling pretty drunk, loose and light and devious, if you were 100% honest.

Because here’s the thing. You had spent the past 2 hours listening to Sunghoon’s internal monologue short-circuit in real time, and the drinks had made you brave, and you decided you were going to have fun.

You turned to face him fully and leaned your shoulder against the wall so you were looking up at him. Close. Closer than you’d normally stand.

“You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“More than usual.”

He looked at you. Said nothing, of course. His face was perfectly, infuriatingly composed.

She’s standing really close. Okay, that’s fine. She does that sometimes. It doesn’t mean any—she’s looking at me like that again.

You smiled, slow and deliberate, and watched his jaw shift almost imperceptibly.

“What?” He asked.

“Nothing.” You reached over and fixed the collar of his shirt—it didn’t need fixing. You just did it. Fingers brushing the side of his neck for half a second before you pull your hand back. 

The thought that hit you was instantaneous.

Oh. A pause. Don’t. Do not.

His expression didn’t change. He simply looked at you with the same unhurried calm he looked at everything with and said “Thanks” in a voice that gave you nothing.

You were going to lose your mind. Give me something, asshole!

You shifted closer under the pretense of someone passing behind you and didn’t shift back. Your hand was on his arm now, you could feel the warmth of him through his sleeve.

She’s not moving. She’s not moving and I cant—I need to—Fuck she looks so good tonight. She always looks so good—I’m going to need a cold shower tonight.

“Cold?” He asked.

You tried not to laugh at how well it connected to his thoughts. “A little.” You lied.

He didn’t say anything, but he turned very slightly so his body was angled towards yours, the smallest possible adjustment, like he was trying to do so without admitting he was doing it.

Keep talking, his thoughts said, unprompted. Just keep talking to me. I don’t care what you say, I just wanna—

“Tell me something.” You say.

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

He considered this with great seriousness of someone preparing for war. You watching him think and heard the entire thing unravel. I want to tell her so many things. I want to tell her that I think about her all the time. I want to tell her she’s the first person I want to call when anything bad happens. I want to tell her to touch me and never stop.

“Jungwon’s playlist sucks.” Is what he chose instead.

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. The contrast of his thoughts to the words coming out of his mouth was just too hilarious for you to handle. He watched you laugh and his thought arrived soft and immediate:

There it is.

You looked back up at him, still smiling, and let the moment stretch. Then, slowly, you reached out and took the cup from his hand—just to take a sip, just as an excuse—your fingers overlapping his for a second before he let go.

His entire internal monologue went briefly nonverbal for a moment.

Fuck she has no idea what she’s doing to me. She genuinely cannot know. If she knew she would—she wouldn’t—she doesn’t—

A pause. A long one, actually.

Does she know?

You handed the cup back. Your fingers brushed him again on the pass. Deliberate. Completely deliberate.

I want you so bad.

The thought arrived and made you almost choke on air. It was so helplessly honest that it made your stomach flip. Not chaotic, necessarily, just true. Simple and overwhelming and incredibly sincere and raw.

I’ve wanted you for so long and you’re just standing here and I can’t tell you! Not like this. 

But please don’t move.

You don’t move. Sunghoon stood beside you looking unbothered.

This, you thought, was the most fun you had ever had in your entire life.

Your shared 10 am was held in a wide tiered lecture hall that fit about two hundred students and smell permanently of coffee and resignation. You sat in the same spot every week, middle left. Close enough to see the slides, far enough to feel like you had options. Sunghoon always sat next to you. 

You go there first on Tuesday. When he arrived, he dropped into the seat next to you and pulled out his notebook. You were ready.

You chose to wait until the lecture started, until he was settled. Pen in hand, paying attention the way he always did. 

Then you leaned over, close enough that your shoulder pressed into his and whispered “Can I borrow a pen?”

You had 3 in your bag. He didn’t know that.

He reached into his case without looking and held one out. Your fingers closed around it slowly, over his, just for a second longer than necessary.

Don’t fucking look at her. Look at the slide. There is a slide, dammit.

You settled back into your seat and uncapped the pen like nothing happened. Ten minutes later you leaned in again. “What did he say? I missed it.” Your lips were approximately four inches from his ear. You felt him go very still and you smiled.

She smells so good. Why does she always—focus! He’s talking about monetary policy. Monetary policy. That’s what's important right now.

“Quantitative easing.” he said, in a voice that was completely level. Not even a crack. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, and sat back.

I cannot believe I’m this affected by quantitative easing.

Sunghoon played like he did everything else, with total composure and quiet precision. Like the game was simply a problem being solved in real time. You had been to his matches before but usually with a group. This time you came alone and found a spot near the front and he saw you during warm ups.

You waved.

His expression softened the slightest bit. She’s wearing my hoodie.

You were, in fact, wearing his hoodie. The one he’d left at your place three weeks ago and you’d simply never given it back. You had put it on this morning with full awareness of what you were doing and zero remorse.

That’s my hoodie on her and she looks—I have a game. I have a game in four minutes. Get your fucking shit together.

He focused on the game. You watched him be extraordinary at it with the detached calm of someone who had done it a thousand times, and every few minutes a thought would surface.

Is she still here? She is. Good.

At halftime he jogged to the sideline and grabbed his water bottle and glanced at you once. It was brief, but you smiled as always and tucked your hands into the front pocket of his hoodie.

She’s so cute.

Then he went back to playing.

After the final whistle—they won, 2-1, Sunghoon had assisted in both goals with the energy of a man doing his grocery shopping—he found you at the edge of the field. Hair slightly damp, still catching his breath, looking at you with a gaze like you were the only girl in the world.

“You played great!”

“Thank you.” He said breathlessly.

You reached up and fixed a part of his hair that had fallen across his forehead, the same way you fixed his collar at the party. Easy and unbothered. 

I’m so in love with her it’s embarrassing. And she’s still touching my hair. I will stand here forever. I will stand on this field until the groundskeepers kick me off.

It was a Saturday when it stopped being a game.

Not because you decided it. Not because anything dramatic happened to signal a shift. It was a Saturday and you were making dinner and Sunghoon was in your kitchen, and somewhere between the two of you it just became too much.

It had started normally enough. He texted at five asking if you’d eaten. You hadn’t. He showed up twenty minutes later with groceries and no further explanation, which was so perfectly, infuriatingly him that you hadn’t even questioned it. This was just a thing he did. This was just how he was with you.

The kitchen was warm. You had music on low—something ambient and unhurried. Sunghoon had taken over the stove with the quiet authority he applied to everything while you sat at the counter and handled the easier tasks: chopping, stirring, handing things over when he asked.

It was comfortable, it was always comfortable with him.

But you had spent a week being deliberate about every point of contact and now you were tired and warm and a little undone by the Friday couch moment still sitting in your chest, and tonight you weren't being strategic. Tonight things just kept — happening.

Like the way you leaned over to check on the pan and your arm slid along his. The way he reached past you for the salt and didn't move back immediately. The way the kitchen was small and you were both in it and neither of you seemed to be trying very hard to maintain any kind of distance.

She's everywhere in this apartment, he thought, while stirring something and looking straight ahead. Everything here is her. I come here and it just — feels like her. I don't know what to do with that.

You handed him a spoon without being asked and your fingers touched and the thought that followed was short and unadorned:

I love her.

Not feral. Not desperate. Just true, the way facts were true, the way gravity was true, delivered in the same internal voice he used to note the weather or remember an appointment.

I love her and I don't know how much longer I can—

"You're quiet," you said.

"I'm always quiet."

"Different quiet."

He glanced at you. "You say that a lot."

"Because it keeps being true."

He looked at you for a moment, something unreadable moving behind his eyes, and then looked back at the stove.

You watched him. The line of his shoulders, the careful way he moved, the complete and total composure he maintained at all times like it cost him nothing when you knew — you knew now — exactly what it cost.

You slid off the counter and moved to stand beside him. Not for any reason. Just to be closer.

She's right next to me. She keeps doing this. She's been doing this all week and I—I don't know if she knows what she's doing. I think she might know. Does she know?

You reached past him to adjust the heat on the burner — he was standing right there, you had to reach across him to get to it, your arm brushing his chest for a half second — and when you pulled back you turned your head and found his face much closer than you'd anticipated.

Neither of you moved.

Okay, his brain said, with a kind of strained calm. Okay. This is—She's right there. She's looking at me. I have been in love with her for over a year and she is right there and I—

"Y/N."

His voice came out different. Lower. The composure was still there but something underneath it that wasn't, some thread pulled just tight enough that you could hear it.

"Yeah?" you said.

He looked at you. Really looked — the way he had on the couch on Friday, no pretense, no performance, just Sunghoon looking at you like you were something he'd stopped being able to look away from.

"What are you doing?" he said.

It wasn't accusatory. It was quiet. Genuine. Like he actually needed to know.

And here was the thing — here was the part you hadn't planned for — you opened your mouth to say something easy and deflecting and instead what came out was the truth.

"I don't know anymore," you said. "I think I stopped doing anything on purpose about three days ago."

Something in his face shifted. The last careful layer of it, the one he always kept in reserve, the one you'd never seen him let go of before.

"Three days ago," he repeated.

"The game," you said. "Friday. You were just — you were just being you and I—" you stopped. Laughed a little, helplessly. "I've been driving myself crazy, Sunghoon."

She—

His thought didn't finish. Like his brain had simply stopped processing and switched to something else entirely.

"You've been driving yourself crazy," he said, and something in his voice had shifted too, something dry and disbelieving and warm underneath it. "You've been driving me crazy for a week. You know that, right?"

You looked at him. "Have I?"

"In lecture," he said. "The couch. The game." A pause. "The collar." He said the last one quietly, like it had been living in him since the party and had just now been let out.

"The collar," you repeated innocently.

"You knew what you were doing."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Y/N."

"Sunghoon."

He looked at you for a long moment, this boy who never cracked, who never rushed, who kept everything behind his eyes until he decided otherwise — and then he decided otherwise.

"I'm in love with you," he said. Simple. Direct. Like he'd taken aim and let go. "I have been for a long time and this week has been the most unhinged experience of my life so if you have something to tell me I really think you should tell me now."

The most unhinged experience of my life. You almost laughed again. He had no idea. "I'm in love with you too," you said. "I have been. For a long time, I think."

He exhaled.

Not dramatically — this was Sunghoon, nothing was ever dramatic — just a slow breath out, like something he'd been holding had finally been set down. His hand came up and found your jaw, tilted your face up toward his, and he looked at you for one long, unhurried moment the way he did everything.

There she is, he thought, soft and certain and final. There she is.

Then he kissed you.

It was warm and quiet and careful and then — when you kissed him back, when your hand found the front of his shirt — not careful at all. His other hand found your waist and pulled you closer and you went, and the food on the stove went briefly unattended, and the music played on low in the background of your apartment that smelled like his candle and yours combined now, that had his bag by the door and his key on the hook, that had been halfway his for a long time already.

His last coherent thought, before everything else: Finally.

He kissed you like a man starved, and after everything you had heard the past couple of weeks, he was starved. His hands tightened on your waist the slightest bit, almost as if he was afraid you would leave.

You wouldn’t dream of it.

Your hands dragged up his shirt and towards the back of his neck, pushing him closer and playing with his hair. Sunghoon let out a shaky breath, which made you smile into the kiss.

“Shut.” Kiss. “Up.” Another kiss. His voice was so low that it shocked you, but you were too busy to even fully notice.

“I didn’t say anything.” You say in between his kisses. Eventually you force yourself to pull away. His face looks like you just slapped him, but you caress his face. “I’m just turning off the stove.”

Sunghoon pursed his lips together. “Right. I forgot. I was kinda distracted.”

You stare at him for a moment, taking him in. His flushed cheeks, his glossy eyes, his hands that refuse to leave your waist. “At the risk of sounding too forward—”

“Be forward. That’s all I’ve wanted this entire week.”

You nod. “Well.. we can go to my room…?”

You barely got the chance to hear his brain fry itself when he smashes his lips back down onto yours. He seems hungrier now, and the thought has you reeling. All you can hear are bits and pieces. Please, and I’m obsessed with you, cross his mind over and over again, but you’re too involved in him to care.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a please.”

Sunghoon keeps kissing you as the two of you walk (awkwardly. It’s surprisingly hard to keep a straight line of direction when a man is kissing the shit out of you) to your bedroom. The door was already open, and your bed was already made. The two of you just flopped onto the mattress, not bothering to stop.

He laid above you, moving from your lips to everywhere else. “I’ve been in love with you,” a kiss on the cheek, “since that IKEA argument,” a kiss on your jaw, “when you were wearing that stupid,” kiss on the neck, “fucking,” kiss on your collarbone, “shirt.” He keeps kissing you, mumbling more. “It was the tiniest shirt in existence and you wore it around me.”

“It was the first shirt I saw that day.”

“Well it made me really hard.” He says, looking down at you. 

“Oh, did it now?” You say, a playful smirk on your face. 

He wipes that smirk off with a kiss, trailing back down to the collarbone, sucking on various spots. You choose not to think about how much of a pain it will be to whisk those out of your skin before your shift. Instead, you choose to live in the moment. 

His hands trail from your waist to your sides. “Can I?” He asks, hands incredibly still. You nod, but that’s not enough for him. “Please say it.”

“Yes, Sunghoon.”

He wastes no time in taking your shirt off, throwing it somewhere in your room for you to find later. “So beautiful.” He mumbles, almost incoherently. “Wanted this for so long. You for so long.”

Every word, every kiss, every touch sends sparks up and down your body. You don’t know how you’ve lived without this, but now that you have it you won’t ever give it up. You run your hands under his shirt and on his bare skin, feeling the warmth of the man on top of you. 

It’s barely even a touch, and yet he folds completely. Head in your neck, holding you tightly. You feel the outline of abs and a strong v line, hands going lower and lower. Instead of the obvious, you choose to grab the hem of his shirt and pull it. He instantly moves, allowing you to pull the shirt off him—with his help of course.

You had seen him shirtless before. Sophomore year pool party hosted by Jake. But this is completely different. 2 years of soccer and consistent working out has made this man built. And you were not complaining. 

You grab his jeans and pull him back in, but he stops himself.

“I wanna try something.”

You give him a nod, and he moves to pull down your sweatpants, leaving you in just a bra and underwear. Sunghoons eyes rake over your body in a way that screams adoration. If you had ever thought he didn’t like you, his actions now change your mind immediately.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

“Okay.” You say quietly, unsure of what's to come.

He starts kissing your neck once more, moving down to your collarbone, then shoulder, then sternum. He makes it his mission to kiss every part of you. Your tits, your stomach, your hips. You don’t even realize how far down he is until he plants a kiss right above your underwear.

He goes to one hip, then the other, planting kisses on both. But instead of going where you want him, he goes to your thighs. He starts at the left, gentle kisses up and down your inner thigh, making you squirm. At the right, his kisses are still gentle, but they're closer now. Closer to where you want him. To where he wants to be.

“So beautiful.” He murmurs, finally pressing a kiss to your clothed heat. A delicate kiss, yet it made you squirm. God, this man is the devil.

“Please…” You sigh, not even realizing that you said it.

“Whatever you want.” He hooks a finger around your underwear, dragging the lavender cloth down your legs slowly. He makes sure to actually take them off, and not let them pool around your ankles, and then spreads your legs just a bit. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I’m sure.”

That's all he needed before he put his mouth on you. Soft kisses that drive you crazy, hands grasping the duvet and teeth biting your lip. The pace is brutally slow, testing the waters. But he speeds up a bit. One hand under your leg, pulling you closer, the other on your clit, making slow circles as he eats you out.

If you thought he kissed you like a man starved, then you would be surprised at how he is once he truly tastes you. Hands grip you tightly, moving faster and faster as his tongue makes you cry out. He laps at your folds, tongue going in and out of you on occasion. You close your legs around his head, and he groans like you just gave him dessert. 

You’re so close, you can feel it. And he can too. But he pulls away at the last moment, wiping at his mouth. 

Sunghoon takes a moment to admire you. Naked from the waist down, a simple bra covering you. You’re panting, desperate to reach the orgasm that was cruelly ripped away from you by the man who almost gave you it.

You give him a look, and he gives you one back. “I’ll eat you out as many times as you want later, but right now I just wanna fuck you.”

“I’m on the pill.” You say.

He closes his eyes for a moment. “Is that enough for you? Cause I’ll go get condoms—”

“It’s enough.” You interrupt him, hand on the buckle of his jeans, slowly unworking it. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted something more than you want him right now. Maybe that’s insane to say, but you don’t care. Not when the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen is about to fuck you.

The two of you waste no time in taking off his jeans, and then his boxers. He also makes sure to take your bra off too.

You aren’t new to sex. It’s a very straightforward process. But sex with Sunghoon seems different. There's nothing wrong with him, it's just the fact you’ve known him for so long and he’s your best friend, and what if this ruins things?

“Hey.” He says, snapping you out of the trainwreck that is your thoughts. “Are you 100% sure? If you say no then I’ll stop, I promise.”

“It’s not that,” You pause, avoiding eye contact with him and his naked lower half. “I just don’t want this to ruin things.”

His hand goes to your waist, gentle and comforting. “This won’t ruin anything. I’ll still be in love with you after this, probably even more than I am right now.”

You think for a second before nodding. “Okay.”

“You still want this?”

“Yes, Sunghoon.” You say with a faux-annoyed face.

He gives you the most genuine smile as he presses his tip against you. The feeling sends a shock straight to your core, and you’ve never wanted anything more than you do right now. He rubs his tip up and down your folds, letting the pre-cum mix with the wetness that was pooling out of you. 

“I’ll go slow, okay?” Sunghoon pushes in slowly, true to his word. You wince, but not in pain. In pleasure. You’re completely engulfing his tip, and he’s looking at it like it’s the Mona Lisa. “Jesus Christ." His voice is low, gravely, and possibly the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. 

He continues to push, letting your pussy swallow him whole. When he’s finally in, he looks at you first to make sure you’re ready and that you’re still okay. It’s sweet, but you aren’t in the mood for sweet.

And somehow, he hears you loud and clear. He pulls back almost all the way, until it’s just the tip again, and slams into you. 

It has you gasping for air, grabbing the blanket, the pillow, him. He keeps up the pace. Brutal, yet slow. A harsh slam in, a slow drag out. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough.

“Sunghoon…” You whine.

“You want more?”

You nod, and he obliges immediately, snapping his hips into yours faster. You're moaning and writhing underneath him but he doesn’t stop. After all, this is what you wanted. 

It smells of sex, and the only sound you can hear is skin slapping, your whines, and his little groans. Back and forth and back and forth, it’s too much.

You can feel a pool in your core tightening, and in a moment of pure lust you wrap your legs around him and pull him closer.  “You’re fucking evil.” He almost growls, going faster if that was even possible.

Sunghoon’s as desperate as you are, slamming his hips into yours with strength and precision of a man who worked for this his entire life. You can barely form words, just moans as he goes in and out of you.

You tighten around him and he whines, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. But you don’t get a chance to focus on that. 

“I know honey, I know. Me too, sweet girl.”

His hips stutter, but he’s back on track, fucking you the way you deserve after weeks of psychological torture and cold showers on his part. He’s dreamed of this more times than you could imagine. But this is better than any dream of his. Because you’re under him, eyes shut in pleasure as he fucks the shit out of you the way he’s wanted for so long.

“I’m close.” You manage, hands grabbing on his biceps.

He speeds up. “You wanna cum?” You nod, a tear falling out of your eye from how good everything feels. As he drags himself in and out of you, a hand falls to your clit, rubbing fast circles. You let out a loud moan, only enticing him to keep going. “Come on honey, cum with me.”

He plays with your folds for a few more seconds before your hips buck without warning, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you come undone over his dick. Your legs shake around his abdomen, and you let out a silent cry. 

“Good girl. I’m so close okay? Where do you want me?” He asks, slowing down just a bit.

You’re still reeling from your orgasm and the fact he’s still fucking you. “Anywhere.”

He places both of his hands around you, caging you in as he pounds into you with no remorse, desperate for a release. He can feel you clenching around him, and that’s what sends him over the edge.

“Fuck!” His hips stutter for the final time, pressing into you fully. His head drops down, almost heavy from the week long torture. As he cums in you, his head drops down, almost heavy. You both don’t move for a bit, just staying still

It’s quiet. The only sound being breathing coming from the both of you.

“Did it ruin it?” He asks, breathlessly with a smirk.

“Fuck off!” You reply, lightly slapping his chest.

It was that very moment where you realized you couldn’t hear his thoughts anymore. You would miss the frantic array of thoughts that would show up when you did something miniscule to him, but you weren’t upset.

Maybe it means he finally said all that he needed to say.

taglist: @wonubug @chccnne @endoll @boptak @seobmoji @u2jwon @seobmoji @jiumeow @kyoteas @heeunleash

© aesprn — all rights reserved.

[endoll]

pretty boy ꩜ 선우

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ texts with sunoo as the new manager of his team .ᐟ.ᐟ .⋆♱ cursing, tsundere ahh sunoo, lowkey inspired by tsukishima from haikyuu… lmk what sports u see other enha members playing, +++ oblivious!yn ++ i also know nothing abt lacrosse so it was mentioned like once sorry.

🏷️ @chccnne @clearlyhoonie @wobblymug @heedimples @heeunleash @heeseungsvocals @mystgene @wonubug @seobmoji @aesprn @enhoonxx

[aesprn]

adorableness

[wonubug]

MUTT ⭑

PAIRING: Boyfriend!Shota x Yoon!Reader

SUMMARY: When your boyfriend won’t give you any attention and you’re literally on your knees for him — but he’s still too enamored in his video games!

WC: 1.3k words

DISCLAIMERS: smut [minors / ageless blogs dni.] unprotected sex! (pls protect that kitty.) oral both m & f receiving (he’s an EATER.) cockwarming… Lmk.

You've been laid on the couch all evening, your body humming with an ache that wouldn’t go away. It's one of those days where every brush of fabric against your skin sends sparks straight to your core — and all you could think about was your boyfriend and his cock.

But unfortunately for you, Shota was buried away, lost in whatever online game he'd been playing at his desk all day like a loser.

And you needed him.. like yesterday. Your own fingers couldn’t leave you satisfied and neither did the toy he bought you for a small milestone anniversary.

Pushing open the door to your shared bedroom, the glow of his multiple monitors bathed the space in a soft purple light. He was hunched over his desk, headset on, and his fingers flying across the keyboard. The faint click of his mouse and the low hum of his voice chatting with whichever friends it was filled the air.

You slip inside quietly, closing the door behind you, but he doesn't even glance your way.

"Shota," You whine softly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind. Your breasts press against his back as you nuzzle into his neck, planting soft and needy kisses along his skin.

He smells like his usual cologne mixed with a faint sweat, but its authentically him and it was intoxicating. He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't acknowledge you either. You nip at his neck, your hands sliding down his chest, but he just leans forward slightly, eyes glued to the screen.

Your tongue clicked in sexual frustration, core throbbing with desperate need as he continued to blatantly ignore you. He was completely oblivious to how fuckably hot you looked — your skin flushed and body quivering on edge, but finally, he mutes his mic with a quick tap. "Wait after this round? It's almost over." His tone is distracted, but there's a hint of amusement in it… he knows exactly what he's doing to you.

You huff, releasing him and turning to flop onto the bed behind you with a dramatic sigh. Fine. You'll wait. But as minutes drag into what was actually an eternity, you watch him click around, laugh at something someone had said in his hesdset, and dive right into another match.

Liar.

The frustration builds again, heat pooling between your thighs until you can't take it anymore.

Enough is enough.

Sliding off the bed, you drop to your knees and crawl toward him, the carpet soft under your palms. You slip under the desk, the confined space warm from his body heat, and wedge yourself between his spread legs.

He notices immediately — his thighs tense around you — but he doesn't stop playing his game. A low snicker escapes him as you nuzzle against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. You tug his waistband and his boxers down just enough to free his cock, already half-hard that quickly thickened in the cool air.

Your mouth waters at the sight, god you loved his cock. You wrapped your fingers around the base before leaning in and swirling your tongue around the head, tasting his salty bead of pre-cum.

Shota hisses softly, playing it off with a cough since he was on a call… you clearly did not care though. One of his hands dropped to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair and ensuring you didn't pull away. He thrusted shallowly into your mouth as you take him deeper, your lips stretching around his girth. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard, your tongue pressing flat against the underside while you bob your head.

His hips buck once, then twice, guiding you with that firm grip on your head. You take him deeper, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water. You gag a little but push through, whining around him, the vibrations drawing a muffled groan from his lips. He snickers again, but it's breathier now, his focus fracturing as you work him over.

His game drags on, but eventually, you can faintly hear the game chime with victory sounds. Shota mutes his mic again and yanks you up by your arms, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion.

His cock, slick from your mouth, presses right against your clothed pussy through your thin panties, the heat of it making you moan outright.

"You're such a needy little slut.” He mumbles, crashing his lips against yours. The kiss is messy, hard as his tongue invaded your mouth without a care that you just had him between your lips and it only makes you grind down harder, desperate for any friction.

His hands roam your body, one sliding under your shirt to pinch your nipple while the other grips your hip before sliding it further down. With a rough tug, he rips your panties to the side, the fabric tearing easily under his fingers.

You gasp into his mouth as the cool air hits your soaked folds, but then he's there — positioning his cock at your entrance and slamming you down onto him.

You cry out, the stretch burning so good while he fills you completely. He starts slow, rolling his hips up into you while you ride him, your arms looped around his neck. Each thrust is deliberate, his thick length dragging against your walls, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur.

But then—

"Yo, Shota, you ready for another round?" Keeho's faint voice crackles through his headset, pulling Shota back to reality.

Your eyes widen, a hand flying to your mouth.

Shit.

Your boyfriend freezes for a split second, then scrambles to adjust his headset, still buried deep inside you. He unmutes and forces his voice steady. "Yeah, give me a sec." He proceeds to mute again momentarily.

"Behave. You wouldn't want your brother hearing how desperate his little sister is, would you?" He whispers harshly.

You nod frantically, but the fullness of his cock inside you is torture. He shifts back to the desk, pulling you with him so you're still straddling his lap, impaled and immobile.

The game starts up again, his fingers clicking away, but you? You're dying. Your pussy clenches around him involuntarily, and you can't help the muffled whimpers escaping past his palm.

"Shh," He hisses after muting his mic for a beat, his free hand digging into your thigh to hold you still when you try to rock your hips. "Sit. Still."

But you can't.. The ache is too much. You squirm just a little, chasing any movement, and your moans turn frantic, high-pitched and stifled against his shoulder. "Mmmph!..." You whine into his t-shirt, tears pricking your eyes from the denial.

He ignores you — or tries to — chatting casually with Keeho about strategies and kills.

This was actually fucking ridiculous, you thought.

His cock twitches inside you with every muffled sound you make, betraying how much it's affecting him. The round feels endless, your body trembling with need, those whiny pleas vibrating against his palm.

Finally, you hear it.. "Alright, I'm out for the night, Hyung. Got stuff to handle." The words send a thrill through you.

As soon as the match concludes and he says bye, Shota rips off his headset, lifts you off his cock with a wet pop, and scoops you up like you weigh nothing.

Shota carried you to the bed in two strides, throwing you down onto the mattress. You bounce once, panties still pushed to the side, your sweet pussy glistening and empty.

Before you can catch your breath, he's on you — diving between your thighs, spreading them wide with rough hands.

Shota's an eater, and he never fails to prove it every single time. His mouth latches onto your clit, sucking hard while his tongue flicks relentlessly. You arch off the bed, a scream tearing from your throat as he devours you.

He doesn't hold back — lapping at your folds, thrusting his tongue inside you, then circling back to that sensitive nub. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you down as you buck against his face.

"Sh-Sho! Oh god—" Your hands fist in his hair, pulling him closer. He growls into your pussy, the vibration sending shockwaves through you. His head game was outof this world. Every swirl, every suck, and every graze of teeth makes you see stars that burst with white exploding behind your eyelids.

You release hard, thighs clamping around his head, but he doesn't stop, licking you clean until you're a shaking, sobbing mess.

Only then does he pull back, lips shiny with your juices and eyes dark with hunger. He strips off the rest of your clothes roughly — which was just a T-shirt — tossing it aside before shedding his own pants fully.

Climbing over you, he lines up and thrusts in, no preamble. The pace is brutal from the start as his hips snapped against yours, cock pounding into you with wet, obscene slaps. You wrap your legs around his waist, nails clawing down his back as he fucks you into the mattress. "Desperate little thing, taking my cock so well." He grunts, one hand pinning your wrist above your head, the other teasing your clit. "All that whining earlier? This what you wanted?”

You can only moan in response, the words lost in the haze of pleasure. He angles his thrusts to hit deeper, harder, your pussy clenching around him as another orgasm builds. "Gonna come inside you," He warns, voice rough. "Fill this needy pussy up."

"P—please!" You beg, and that's all it takes.

He slams in one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he released, his hot spurts flooding your walls. The sensation tips you over, your release draining him.

He collapses on you for a moment, both panting, before rolling off. But he's not done caring for you. Shota grabs a warm cloth from the bathroom and gently wipes between your thighs, cleaning the mix of your cum and his from your sensitive folds. His touch is soft now, contrasting the roughness before, as he soothes the soreness with careful strokes.

"Better?" He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead once you're all cleaned up, pulling the covers over you both.

You nod, curling into his side, finally sated. "Much."

💌 mika’s message! i feel freaky pt3. thank u sm chatgpt for writing this one!!!!!!!! shoutout!!!!!! ok i gtg Bye. I GOTTA GO. WE GOTTA GO. Guys let’s go. ok sorry anyways obviously jokes bc of my recent anon hate messages saying i use ai to write but wtv !!!!!! i’ve clearly discovered something new abt myself. so im on a roll rn and nobody can stop me or this grind ok.

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[aesprn]

im obsessed mika. you've done it again.

[aesprn]

New theme ngh

misa amane the loml since 7th grade im sooo serious