pnghoon

[pnghoon]

juuunnnooooooo haaaaiiiiiiiiiiiii bsf 😇👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

MISO BEBI HIII BEAUTIFUL (,,>ヮ<,,)

[pnghoon]

i heart u so bad stop ... also u go by juno right?? like thats so sosos cute what the hell even

stawp it rn yin...lets get married qt pie .ʚ₍ᐢ ›̥̥̥ ༝ ‹̥̥̥ ᐢ₎ɞ (and yes i do go by juno hehehe)

[pnghoon]

김선우ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⨾ 󠀠ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤboy next door

(🧁) ── 𝓚IM SEONWOO [선우] ⁞ ㅤㅤ𝓰. fluff, crack, humor, love at first sightㅤㅤ୨୧ㅤㅤ warnings : sunoo is WHIPPED, so many mentions of food and baked goods, not proofreadㅤ⟡ㅤ!nonidol neighbor !noo 𝔁 fem neighbor !reader ㅤᯓ ꒰ wc : 1.7k ꒱ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsynopsis .ᐟ in which your neighbor seems to want your attention (¬⤙¬ ) ── 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ᡣ𐭩

juno's note ─ in another life you and noo are married and you're both raising that committee plant trust. this noo fic idea is so ass but he's the cutest cutie patootie ever in this i wanna nom on his cheek :3) please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

sunoo didn’t believe in love at first sight. well–not until he saw you.

as soon as sunoo saw you walk into the building through his window, carrying boxes that looked way too heavy for you to carry on your own, he knew. he was cooked.

his pencil clattered to the ground, calculus homework long forgotten, as he scrambled up from his desk and leaned against the windowsill, eyes wide with fascination. meatball, his orange cat, lazily blinked up at him from the corner of the room.

he blinked, stunned.

"do you see her?" sunoo whispered dramatically, pointing out the window like he’d just seen a shooting star. "meatball, she’s so pretty."

meatball meowed. uninterested.

sunoo ran a hand through his hair, already spiraling. "oh my god, what if she hates cats?"

he found out two days later that you actually loved cats.

you’d crouched to pet meatball when you bumped into them in the hallway and sunoo had stood there, frozen, watching the two loves of his life get along like it was the most magical thing in the world. he swore he almost teared up.

"he’s cute," you said, smiling at meatball before glancing up at sunoo. "what’s his name?"

sunoo’s brain short-circuited.

"meatball," he blurted before even realizing how stupid it sounded. "i mean. yeah. meatball. he’s... my roommate."

you laughed. you laughed. and sunoo had never wanted to throw himself off the balcony and into the flower bushes more in his life.

he decided then and there he needed a plan. a subtle, charming, not desperate looking plan to woo his new neighbor.

he baked.

it started as a simple idea—something to pass the time on a lazy sunday, a kind gesture for the new girl who’d just moved in next door. but by the time sunoo was elbow's deep in flour and drowning in tabs titled "chewy chocolate chip cookies that actually work," it had spiraled into something else entirely.

the first batch was a disaster. he misread the recipe and used baking powder instead of baking soda, which wouldn’t have been that bad if he hadn’t also gotten distracted imagining what your smile might sound like when you tried them.

the second batch was better—surprisingly so. he sifted the flour properly this time, creamed the butter and sugar with care, and even rotated the tray halfway through baking like the blogs told him to.

he hummed to himself while scooping out perfect little mounds of dough, thinking of your eyes and how nice it might be to see them sparkle.

when they came out, golden brown and soft in the middle, he actually gasped. "oh my god. i should be on the great british bake off."

he barely let them cool before arranging them neatly into a pink box he found in the back of his cupboard. then he pulled out a pen and a sticky note, scribbling "welcome to the complex :)" in handwriting he re-did at least four times because the first three looked like a cryptic warning.

and then came the part he hadn’t thought through: delivering them.

sunoo stood in front of his mirror, holding the box like it was a fragile heirloom, practicing lines like, "hey, thought you might like these!" and "i was just passing by haha, no big deal!" except they all sounded way too forced and he kept tripping over his words. eventually, he settled on just… winging it. how bad could it go?

well.

he knocked. his heart stuttered when the door creaked open.

you were in sweatpants, hair loosely tied back, a sleepy look in your eyes that somehow made you look effortlessly cute—like the kind of cute that belonged in quiet morning scenes of romance movies. sunoo’s brain went blank instantly.

"hey," you said nonchalantly, leaning casually on the doorframe. "what’s up?"

he blinked. his fight or flight began to kick in. he thrusted the box forward like a sacred offering. "i baked," he blurted. "not poisoned."

you raised an eyebrow, then laughed—actually laughed—and the sound was somehow better than anything his imagination had come up with. "that’s comforting," you said, reaching for the box. "thanks."

sunoo nodded. "yep. anytime. enjoy. okay. bye." he turned too fast, bumped into the wall, muttered "ow," and then kept walking like nothing happened.

from then on, sunoo found any and every excuse to talk to you.

he offered to help carry your groceries even when you clearly only had a carton of milk and a bag of round green grapes. he went as far as to water your plants for you every now and then.

one time he even showed up with a tiny potted plant, saying it was a "welcome gift from the "neighborhood committee" (there was no committee, you googled it.).

"you didn’t have to," you’d always say, cheeks slightly warm. to be honest, you were never that good at accepting gifts, or even compliments. but the way sunoo's eyes would stare at you expectantly made your heart flutter. or maybe it was the sweet words that came after.

"i wanted to," he’d reply every time, pretending not to melt when you smiled back.

he lent you a charger. a whisk. a hammer he didn’t even own before he ran to the hardware store to buy one just in case you needed it.

you, on the other hand, were chill about the whole thing. or so you tried to be.

you’d greet him every time with a small smile and a "hey, sunoo," like you knew he was going to be there. and honestly, he usually was. in the hallway. by the mailboxes. once suspiciously by your doormat.

"were you just crouched outside my door?" you asked once.

"meatball ran away!" sunoo lied, voice high-pitched. "i was looking for him!"

meatball was inside sunoo’s apartment, sitting on the windowsill. judging him.

still, you laughed. you always laughed. and you always let him linger just a little longer.

by the end of the month, your fridge looked like a full on pastry display at a trendy bakery.

you hadn’t asked for it. really, you hadn’t—but somehow he had taken it upon himself to bake you almost every dessert known to mankind.

there were sugar cookies with doodles on them—little hearts, tiny cats, one that looked suspiciously like meatball. there was a slice of green matcha cake so beautifully decorated you genuinely stared at it for ten minutes straight, trying to convince yourself not to eat it.

and the red velvet cupcakes.

four cupcakes.

you told yourself they weren’t that good. but the way you devoured one in under sixty seconds said otherwise. to sum it up–his baking was criminal.

but then the days added up, and the baked goods piled up, and you came to a tragic realization—no matter how divine sunoo’s desserts were, you probably couldn’t survive off sugar and frosting alone.

probably.

so, one lazy afternoon, you slipped on your shoes, zipped up your jacket, and decided to make a trip to the nearest convenience store.

you had barely made it out of the apartment complex when—plop.

a fat drop of rain landed directly on your forehead.

your shoulders visibly slumped as the drizzle turned into full-on rain, cold and sudden. it felt like a sign from the gods themselves, gently nudging you to accept your fate—maybe the risk of diabetes was worth it, because eating sunoo's pastries really did feel like heaven. you sighed, already defeated, and instinctively turned to head back inside, but—

"y/n?

you turned around, blinking through the rain.

and there he was.

sunoo, in all his sunshine glory, holding the biggest, brightest yellow umbrella you had ever seen. he was dressed like he’d expected this weather—pulled together in a light windbreaker, sleeves rolled neatly, a mini beige tote bag in one hand.

"you’re going out?" he asked, eyes wide and curious like a puppy.

you nodded, holding your arms over your head like that would actually help. "i was gonna hit the store. kind of regretting it now."

sunoo didn’t hesitate. he stepped closer, tilting his umbrella so it covered you, too.

"come on," he smiled, motioning with his head. "i’ll walk you."

you bit back a smile, staring at him for a moment before stepping into pace beside him. the umbrella was just big enough to cover you both, though you still brushed shoulders here and there.

once you were both at the convenience store, you ended up at a white slim table near the window as you both watched the rain drops race.

sunoo had gone a bit overboard again. the plastic bag between you held honey butter chips, melon milk, lychee jelly, and a cream-filled bread you’d only bought because he practically begged you to try it.

he was swinging his legs like a little kid, cheeks full as he munched, rain tapping gently on the glass infront of you.

you took a bite of the cream bread, chewing thoughtfully. "not bad."

sunoo turned, hopeful. "but…?"

"not as good as your baking," you said calmly, straight-faced.

sunoo choked on his melon milk. literally choked.

his eyes widened, and he started patting his chest like he just got hit by a bus.

"what?!"

you raised a brow, amused. "your cupcakes? they were good. i still think about them sometimes."

his whole face turned pink like a peach. ears red. lips twitching like he didn’t know whether to smile or faint.

"you do?" he squeaked.

you nodded, taking another bite. "yeah. guess i like dorks who bake."

he froze. stared. blinked.

"are you saying that because—wait��are you flirting with me?"

you didn't say anything, your smile said it all. you glanced over at him with that same look plastered on your face before looking away to take another bite of your bread.

sunoo’s mouth opened. closed. opened again. still staring at you with such disbelief.

"i might be in love with you," he suddenly blurted out, staring at you like he was in a daze.

you blinked. now it was your turn to be shocked. only difference was that you didn't choke on your food.

his eyes bulged when he realized what just came out of his mouth. "i mean! like you. i like you. a lot. not love! i don’t love you! i mean i could—one day maybe—but not that i—"

you held up a hand, stifling your laugh.

"relax," you smiled, soft and sweet. "i like you too."

sunoo blinked. once. twice. he wasn't even sure.

and then he giggled. full on, shoulders shaking giggled. "meatball is never gonna believe this."

you snorted into your drink. "tell him i said hi."

𝓢igning off... @pnghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] redoing...send me an ask if you want to be added :) @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni @won4kiss @jakesangel

[pnghoon]

Hiii ml<3 one I just have to say you’re account is so cute! And I’m truly obsessed with your writing and, I wanted to know if you had any advice or suggestions on how to start writing on here and or on wattpad!

hi bebi !! i remember someone asking this before a couple months ago so i'll just copy and paste what i told them :)

warning !! this might be extremely long bc I got carried away..

I try to find inspiration from things around me, whether they’re specific items, places, or music! I often find myself listening to music as I write my bots or fics so I like to use the lyrics I hear and incorporate it into my writing!

I feel like using music as inspiration is a big help when writing bc it’s almost like you already have a baseplan set up, all you have to do is use your imagination to create a story hehe ( • ̀ω•́ )✧

I also find myself reading a lot, not just tumblr fics but actual novels, so whenever I read, I like to seek out different ways to improve my writing through the style of the authors writing. for an example if I like the way they had described something in the dialogue, or I want to try and use a word that they had added to their writing, I always jot it down in my notes app and when I do have the time to write, I try to add and reflect those things into my own writing and in my own words ! my notes are literally filled with vocabulary I want to use and ways I can express things in my writing!

I’ve learned that using your five senses (sight, hearing, taste, smell, touch) can definitely improve your writing by a whole lot. It gives the story a sort of feeling to it and can help you set up the setting of where the story is taking place or even give life to other characters and their perspectives. remember, it’s always best to imagine everything and what the character is going through than to simply just state it.

to go more in depth with what I had stated above i’ll provide two examples! a piece of writing that doesn’t use descriptive words or the five senses mention would look like–“I walked into the bakery. it was small and cozy. I picked up a loaf of bread and smiled at the memories it brought back.” whereas using the five senses method–“I walked into the bakery, the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread wrapping around me like a warm hug. the crackling of the crust on my fingertips as I picked up a loaf was comforting. I could hear the sound of the soft hum of the oven and occasional clink of trays. the sight of the golden loaves lined up on the glass shelves brought a smile to my face, and as I bit into the warm bread, the taste was a nostalgic mix of buttery softness and childhood memories.” see!! wasn’t that way better than the other one?? buttt it’s also important to only use that method to things in the writing that need it. something like the action of sitting down or standing up probably wouldn’t need that sort of description since it’s pretty mundane and already straight to the point.

something I had to learn the hard way was to try not to run on your sentences !! I can understand that you have a bunch ideas ready and want to immediately write em’ down, but it’s best to try and go back and add punctuations and filler words to keep it consistent and smooth !

keep your perspective the same throughout the story !! switching pov’s midway into your writing could make your writing hard to follow and confusing unless you state that it’s switching povs.

try not to overuse specific words and always search up synonyms to replace them with !

support other creators by reposting and hearting there work! it's great to have friends on tumblr to jumpstart your writing and support one another :))

this is a whole lot of juno yap so i’m actually so so sorry..I didn’t think it would get this long erm. anyways !! i’m not the greatest writer out there and you don’t have the obligation to strictly follow these but I hope these tips help you out !! goodluck anonnie mwah <3

[pnghoon]

the cutest lil headcanons of riki ever !!

(   ➴ ) 𝒮𝖮 𝖧𝖨𝖦𝖧 𝖲𝖢𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖫 ♡ i find you in every crowd

### . STARRING ⌢ n.rk ⋆ headcanons + 0.5k // swearing + unedited ˖ ✧

𝓍𝗈𝗑𝗈 ─── chuu >3< + [FILE.ZIP]

ㅤㅤ౨ৎㅤㅤclassmate ni-ki who definitely has a cool kid aura. you know what i mean. even though he's slightly reserved and keeps to himself or his group of friends, he's known by basically the entire school population, inviting adoring gazes every corridor he saunters through. would probably even be voted #1 hallway crush and win in a landslide ..

starting off specific as hell, but i just KNOWW classmate ni-ki would be the typa guy to spin pens on his fingers and be annoyingly good at it. might offer to teach you if you stare a little too hard, though.

classmate ni-ki who would be super willing to do anything he could to make longer periods a little more interesting. for example, he'd help make you a little cringe button! except y'all would probably add more options on the button (such as "type shit", "LMFAO", "slay", "boring"). yes this is based on smth i did irl heart eyes.png

classmate ni-ki who would nawt at all be above bribing you to help him w/ his work. there's just so much work okay !!! it's better if you do it together anyway !!! and oh ... what's that? oh, silly him, he didn't mean to buy that extra strawberry milk ... sigh, and he doesn't even like it that much ... you might as well take it honestly. or would you rather it be wasted? :/

classmate ni-ki who whenever there's randomly assigned seating Will totally manipulate the results to get to sit w/ you by casually swapping his piece of paper w/ whoever has the seat next to you. who else is gonna make math class fun for him, after all?

classmate ni-ki who has a penchant for playing with your hair if he's in your vicinity. twirling strands of it if your hair is on the longer side or Ruffling it every second he can if it's shorter, are his go to moves. but to be fair he'd let you play with his too. if you ask really REALLY nicely. and maybe also lend him your biology notes.

super specific thing #2, but if you drop something and bend to get it back, classmate ni-ki would do that thing where he'd cover your head with his hand so it doesn't hit the edge of the table (</3)

classmate ni-ki who would for sure let you draw on his hands. not even just a doodle or 2 bro would be chill with a whole ahh piece of artwork covering his entire arm. plus, he'd be super proud of it too; like "show it off to whoever's around" type shit :P

classmate ni-ki who might sometimes persuade you to play hooky and skip classes w/ him occasionally. just the unimportant periods though (or maybe an assembly or two shhh). you'd be kinda intimidated at first, worried about what his plans might involve but then he'd pull out a packet of cat food and go, "i'd like you to meet my cat, Cheese." ><

ㅤㅤoverall, an 11/10 experience. you wouldn't mind taking the same subjects as him to be classmates w/ him again ^-^

𐙚 . regulars : @chrrific @jessxxxfwd @evanesceki @soobundle1009 @weedatthegasstattion @flipitkickit ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

[pnghoon]

hellooooo any upcoming hoon fics????

hi anon!! yes a hoon fic is on the way i promise !! i've been focusing on it for the past couple days and i'm really excited for ppl to read it!! although it's more angsty than my usual fluff, i hope it still garners as much attention as my fluff fics ><

[pnghoon]

hi pooks i miss u

hi bebi i miss u more ˙◠˙ your new theme is stunning btw hehehe

[pnghoon]

HI JUNO u inspired me to write on cai and honestly im glad i did THANK YEWWW💔💔 ure also my favourite creator on cai JSBSJSH i love ur bots theyre AMAZING

also i read ur new jake fic and its so cute ohmydays

these are gen making me sob ૮₍˶ ╥ ‸ ╥ ⑅₎ა i never would've expected for me to have such a big influence on others writing wise, it makes me so happy that people enjoy to interact with my bots </3 im so honored to be your favorite cai creator???? that's so mind boggling to me still WAHAHAHAHAHDVDHYEDGY i'm crying happy tears ily ml ♡♡ ALSO thank yew so much, new fics coming soon hehehe

[pnghoon]

Hey pretty

hey bebi hru :3

[pnghoon]

my inbox has been so empty i miss answering anons so badly :((

[pnghoon]

this is how it feels writing noo fluff and hoon angst simultaneously sm shoot me.

[pnghoon]

would you guys rather me start a angsty hoon fic or a cutsie sunoo one i have the motivation to write tonight :D

[pnghoon]

이희승ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⨾ 󠀠ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤhold me. console me.

(🧦) ── 𝓛EE HEESEUNG [희승] ⁞ ㅤㅤ𝓰. pure angst ive been feeling evil as hell ㅤㅤ୨୧ㅤㅤ warnings : est. relationship, not proofread, skinship, kissing, mentions of sex, pet-namesㅤ⟡ㅤ!nonidol experienced bf !hee 𝔁 fem inexperienced gf !reader ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᯓ ꒰ wc : 1.4k꒱ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsynopsis .ᐟ in which you feel like you come second to everything ── 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ᡣ𐭩

juno's note ─ i indeed did not hold your hand while writing this. please be sure to like & reblog !! ♡

you remember the day heeseung asked you to be his girlfriend.

the gentle orange sky kissed the ocean, and the waves became background noise. your feet were still damp from chasing each other along the shoreline, and your cheeks hurt from how much you'd been smiling.

heeseung had looked at you like you’d put the stars in the sky, like every stupid laugh and every little stumble you made only made you more precious to him.

"be mine?" he whispered, like it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world, like your hands weren't already intertwined, like he hadn’t already stolen your heart.

you said yes. of course you said yes. it tumbled out of your mouth like a breath, like your heart couldn’t stand the waiting anymore.

and for a moment, everything felt like enough. you believed it. you believed he wanted you. maybe even needed you.

and he did. heeseung loved you. you knew that. he told you in the way he looked at you, like you were something delicate, something to be handled with care. he showed you in the way he always walked on the outside of the sidewalk, or in the way he memorized your coffee order even though you always changed it.

but there were nights, quiet and still, where your thoughts clawed at your chest and whispered otherwise.

because every first you had with him, he’d already had with someone else.

you knew heeseung. everyone at school did. basketball captain, tall, stupidly good at everything he did, with a smile so pretty it made even teachers forget what they were saying mid-sentence. he wasn’t just charming--he was that guy. the kind of guy whose life felt too big, too full of experiences.

and you were just… you.

quiet. awkward. not exactly what people expected when they heard the phrase heeseung’s girlfriend.

you weren’t like the girls he used to go for. not bubbly, not bold. you didn't turn heads when you walked into a room–you avoided attention like the plague.

you remembered hearing about his first relationship. everyone had. it was loud and messy and dramatic, and everyone knew how far they’d gone. it was all whispered through locker rooms and lunch tables, and back then, you didn’t think much of it.

until you were the one holding his hand. the one pressing shy kisses to his cheek. the one who loved him with every beat of your heart.

you didn’t understand why he picked you.

heeseung could’ve had anyone. he did have others before you.

and sometimes, that’s what kept you awake at night.

you hated how your mind worked.

you hated how happy he made you, only for your thoughts to tear it apart piece by piece when you were alone.

you thought back to the first time he kissed you, his movements were smooth, confident, like he knew what he was doing. like you didn’t have to guide him–because someone else already had.

you thought about how his arm around your waist wasn’t a discovery. it was muscle memory.

you thought about how the first time he held you, the first time he whispered he loved you, the first time you spent the night tangled in sheets together—each one was your first.

and none of them were his.

you never told him the full extent of your whirlwind of thoughts.

just little things. small pieces of your self-doubt packaged as playful teasing. like how you’d joke, "i bet you already did this with your ex, huh?" when he reached for your hand, or how you’d laugh a little too tightly when he called you beautiful, saying, "you must say that to every girl."

heeseung would always frown a little. press a kiss to your temple. hold you closer.

"i don’t want anyone else," he’d say, again and again. "i want you."

and god, you wanted to believe it.

you were lying on his bed when it almost happened.

his fingers brushed your skin with a gentleness that made your heart stutter, and he kissed you like he was afraid you’d vanish if he wasn’t careful. his touch was slow, patient, and when his lips trailed down your neck, you sighed, tilting your head to give him more room.

“baby,” he whispered, “is this okay?”

you nodded. a little too quickly. and maybe he noticed, but he didn’t say anything—just kissed you again, lips tender against yours like a secret.

his shirt came off first, and yours came after. hesitantly.

you let him touch you–slow, careful, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. he kept checking in, asking if you were okay, if you wanted to keep going. you said yes, every time.

until you didn't.

he’s done this before. he’s done this better. he knows what he’s doing. he’s seen better. touched better. loved better.

the moment his hand reached for your waistband, your brain screamed.

“stop,” you whispered, eyes squeezing shut.

he froze. immediately. eyes wide, pulling back like he’d burned you.

“hey. hey, what’s wrong? did i hurt you?” his hands cupped your cheeks, his voice tender and terrified all at once.

you blinked, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you quickly sat up, grabbing your once discarded shirt and using it to cover your chest.

“i—yeah. i just—i can’t,” you whispered, voice small. “i’m sorry.”

he didn’t hesitate. didn’t get annoyed. didn’t even ask questions.

he just reached for your hand, pulled you into his chest, and held you.

“don’t apologize,” he said, pressing his lips to your hair. “you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

you stayed like that for a while. in silence. just the sound of his heart, steady against your ear.

after that incident, you tried so hard to make it seem like everything was fine, like everything was normal and you still weren't continuously comparing yourself to his past experiences.

you smiled. you kissed his forehead. you called him yours. But that ache still lived inside you. It wasn’t even about intimacy anymore–it was all of it.

you'd followed the usual routine with him every day, walking side by side through the hallways--but your mind wandered elsewhere with every step.

doubt had you in a chokehold and you weren't sure if you'd be able to escape it.

you don’t remember what triggered it exactly.

maybe it was the way someone on campus mentioned his ex during lunch. or maybe it was the way he laughed with a girl from his class that one afternoon—too easy, too comfortable, too not you.

either way, something cracked.

“you’ve been distant,” he said one night, when he came to pick you up after class. “did i do something?”

you shook your head, swallowing back the words that had been sitting on your tongue for days.

maybe he deserves better. maybe letting him go is the best thing to do.

“can we talk?” you asked instead, your voice small.

heeseung looked worried but nodded, following you into the park down the street. you sat on a bench. the same one you first held hands on months ago.

“i think… i need to figure things out,” you started, fingers twisting nervously. “about myself. about us.”

heeseung stilled. “you want to break up.”

you looked away. “i don’t want to. but i think i have to. i’m not good enough for you.”

"what are you talking about?" he scooted closer. "is this about the other night? baby, i told you, there’s no pressure–"

"it’s not just that," you cut in, voice trembling. "it’s everything. i’m always scared. always doubting. i hold you back, heeseung."

"no, you don’t—"

"you do everything so easily," you whispered. "you’re good at everything. you’ve been through everything. and i… haven’t. i’m scared all the time. i’m scared of messing up. of not being good enough. and i can’t keep dragging you down with me."

his voice broke. "you’re not dragging me down."

but you were already crying, shaking your head as the words slipped out before you could stop them.

"i love you too much to keep feeling like this."

you left before he could change your mind.

before he could say the right words. before you could fall into his arms and pretend the ache in your chest wasn’t real.

because the truth was, you didn’t know how to fix what was broken inside of you.

and you loved him too much to let him try.

𝓢igning off... @pnghoon

── 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 [OPEN 🗯] @onlyhees @amouriu @greentulip @enhluv1 @samiikeu @hoonwhile @dearrwoni @won4kiss @jakesangel

[pnghoon]

this is so cute wth

SWIM INTO YOU ᰔ sim jaeyun .ᐟ

﹙masterlist﹚ ──── sim jaeyun x fem!reader ಇ fluff , mention kiss , make out , suggestive , jake is a menace ⸝⸝ 信愛 ◦ 1375 wc ‼

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You never thought having a roommate would feel like this.

When you moved in with Jake, it was supposed to be a temporary arrangement. A practical decision made in haste—split the rent, stay out of each other’s way, and avoid any complications.

Simple, right?

But in hindsight, you should have known better. Because Jake Sim is not simple.

He is chaos wrapped in golden skin, a walking contradiction of mischief and warmth, and the kind of person who makes even the most ordinary moments feel like something out of a dream.

It starts with little things.

Like how he insists on calling you ‘princess’ despite your every protest, the nickname rolling off his tongue with effortless charm. Or how he sings in the shower, completely unbothered by the ungodly hour, his voice still gravelly from sleep, making you shove a pillow over your face to muffle the way your heart stutters at the sound.

Then there’s the way he leaves the kitchen a mess after making his infamous late-night ramen—crumbs on the counter, an empty bowl abandoned in the sink, chopsticks precariously balanced on the edge. He always flashes you that signature grin, unapologetic as ever, mumbling, “I’ll clean it up later,” though you both know he never will.

And you let him get away with it. Every single time.

“Hey, princess.”

You barely glance up from your laptop, too accustomed to his presence to be startled when he plops down onto the couch beside you, his body sinking into the cushions with a sigh. He smells like his usual mix of fresh soap and something warm, something undeniably Jake, and before you can react, he stretches out, resting his head against your lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You freeze.

“Jake.” Your voice holds a warning, but he only cracks one eye open, his gaze lazy and unbothered. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Resting,” he replies smoothly, as if this is a perfectly logical answer. He shifts slightly, getting comfortable, the weight of him pressing into your thighs in a way that makes your breath catch.

“Long day. I deserve a comfy lap.”

“You have your own lap.”

“Yeah, but mine isn’t as nice.”

Your face heats up instantly, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. This is just Jake being Jake—flirty, playful, completely oblivious to how his every action sends your heart into a frenzy. At least, you think he’s oblivious.

“Go annoy someone else,” you mutter, but your fingers betray you, absentmindedly threading through his soft black strands, combing through them with gentle precision.

Jake hums in satisfaction, eyes slipping shut. “Nah. You’re my favorite person to annoy.”

You should’ve seen it coming.

The way your heart tightens when he gets too close, how your breath catches when his laughter rings through the apartment, the way his presence feels like gravity—inescapable, undeniable. It’s in the way he looks at you sometimes, gaze lingering a second too long, as if searching for something you aren’t ready to give voice to. It’s in the way his touch lingers, a teasing nudge here, a fleeting graze there, igniting sparks that leave you restless long after he’s gone.

And one night, you realize—he knows.

You’re in the kitchen, rummaging for a late-night snack, when you hear him enter behind you. His footsteps are light, deliberate, and then suddenly he’s there, far too close, warmth radiating from his body as he peers over your shoulder.

“Whatcha got there?” His voice is low, amused, a hint of something else laced beneath the teasing.

You swallow hard. “Cereal.”

Jake lets out a chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Mm, lucky cereal. Gets to be in your mouth.”

You choke on air.

He grins, clearly pleased with your reaction, and leans in just a fraction more. His breath ghosts over your ear, and suddenly the kitchen feels much, much smaller.

“What?” His tone is feigned innocence, but his eyes tell another story. “Something wrong, princess?”

“You—you can’t just say things like that,” you manage to stammer, stepping away from him in a desperate attempt to regain your composure. But Jake follows, closing the distance with ease, his movements fluid and unhurried.

“Why not?” There’s a playful lilt to his voice, but his gaze has shifted, growing heavier with something deeper, something more serious. He tilts his head, studying you with an intensity that makes your pulse race. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No,” you lie, but your body betrays you, your back pressing against the counter as he steps even closer.

Jake places his hands on either side of you, effectively caging you in. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t need to—his presence alone is enough to make your skin tingle.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

You do. And it’s a mistake.

Because Jake Sim is looking at you like he already knows the answer.

The first kiss is inevitable. It’s slow, deliberate, as if he’s memorizing the way your lips fit against his. The moment his mouth meets yours, everything stills—the air, the sound of the clock ticking, the pulse drumming beneath your skin.

He kisses you like he has nowhere else to be, like the world outside the walls of your shared apartment doesn’t exist. His lips are warm, firm yet gentle, coaxing you into a rhythm that feels like second nature, like something you’ve done a million times before and yet are experiencing for the very first time.

His hand finds the small of your back, fingers splaying across the fabric of your shirt, anchoring you to him. His other hand cups your jaw, thumb tracing the delicate curve of your cheek, a touch so light it makes your breath hitch.

There’s no rush, no desperation—just the intoxicating push and pull, the unspoken emotions bleeding through every lingering press of his lips.

But then, something shifts.

The kiss deepens, slow and languid at first, until Jake’s patience snaps. He exhales a shaky breath against your lips before tilting your head back, giving himself more access. His tongue brushes against yours, teasing, exploring, and you melt—completely, utterly. The room is warm, stifling even, as he presses against you, molding his body to yours.

You don’t realize when his hands start to roam, but suddenly, they’re slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips ghosting over your skin, igniting tiny fires in their wake. His grip tightens, pulling you flush against him as he groans softly, the sound reverberating through your body like a pulse.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, but his voice is hoarse, uneven, betraying the restraint he’s barely holding onto.

You don’t.

Instead, you tug him closer, letting your hands explore, tracing the taut muscles beneath his shirt, feeling the way his body tenses under your touch. Your breaths mingle, heavy and unsteady, the space between you collapsing until there’s nothing left but warmth and want.

Jake’s lips leave yours only to trail lower, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat. His teeth graze against sensitive skin, and a quiet gasp escapes you, your head falling back instinctively.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispers against your skin, his voice a mixture of amusement and something darker, something possessive.

“So are you,” you counter, hands threading through his hair, tugging just enough to elicit a quiet groan from him.

He laughs, low and husky, before capturing your lips once more—this time with less patience, less restraint. This time, he kisses you like he’s starving, like he’s been waiting for this moment far too long. And maybe, just maybe, you have too.

The night stretches long, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering touches. And as he presses you back against the couch, lips brushing against your ear, he murmurs, “Hope you’re ready to drown in me, princess.”

And you think—maybe you’ve been drowning all along.

[pnghoon]

hii !!! i love ur theme, its so pretty !! lets be moots ? ☺️

(i don't actually type like this im just trying to be NICE!!!!)

LOVE U GIRL

hi bebi!! thank you so much yess lets be moots (LOVE YOU TEW) (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

[pnghoon]

i feel evil im gonna write a hee angst fic brb let me cook

[pnghoon]

me when someone tells me to write something other than fluff or angst