in the next life.✦ ⌇ park sunghoon
GENRE: slice of life, romance (i.e., a whole lot fluff), boyfriend!sunghoon x gn!reader
WARNINGS: lots of touching and kissing (non-explicit), references to past and future lives
AUTHOR’S NOTE: yes this is inspired by that one clip of sunghoon reading out the comment about his moles. something about moles being markers of where you have been kissed is SO cute to me so i had to write this okay hope yall enjoy bye <333
When you were growing up, you used to dread Sundays. Not because anything particularly bad ever happened—but because they marked the end of the weekend, always arriving with the quiet warning that Monday morning and school were just around the corner.
But now, in your twenties, Sundays have become your favourite.
Because Sundays are specially reserved just for you and your boyfriend.
The hazy skyline of Seoul flickers in the far-off distance, painting every corner of your small apartment in warm, opalescent gold. The air feels lighter this morning—but different, too. Charged with something softer. Quieter. It’s one of those rare mornings when the rest of the city hasn’t quite woken up yet, and it feels like you and Sunghoon are the only two people left in the world.
You study the boy in front of you in the comfortable silence. Eyes trailing over every curve, every line, every quiet detail that softens his sleeping face. Like a painter studying their muse, you commit each feature to memory, as if trying to hold onto him in some eternal, wordless way.
Seeing him like this— here, in your bed — makes your chest swell with something you still can’t name. You’re sure it’s not just love. Not the kind you read about, anyway. Love feels too small a word to contain everything that stirs inside you when you look at him. This is deeper. Constant. All-consuming. Like a wound that aches and aches, but never fully heals.
“There’s this saying,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, “that moles show where your past lover kissed you the most.”
Sunghoon stirs slightly, meeting your gaze through the heavy blanket of his lashes. You reach up and gently trace the one on his cheek with the pad of your thumb. He doesn’t look away—just watches you with that gaze he reserves only for you: warm, unguarded, quietly fond. Sunghoon has always had a way of looking at you as if you were the only person on Earth worth looking at.
“Your past lover must’ve really adored you,” you tease, lips tugging into a sleepy smile. “You’ve got one on nearly every part of your body.”
He hums, amused. “You have them too. Two on your stomach. One on your right thumb.”
You pout, mock-offended. “That’s nothing compared to yours. I don’t think mine loved me as much as yours did.”
A brief silence settles between you. Then Sunghoon shifts closer, mattress dipping under his weight.
“I don’t know about past lovers, but…” he trails off.
And then his lips are on your skin.
First, the base of your throat—slow, careful. Then your jaw. Your temple. Your shoulder. Your stomach.
Each kiss lands with a little more intention than the last, like he’s trying to etch something into you. His mouth never lingers long in one place, instead trailing heat across your skin like he’s painting you with nothing but his lips.
You exhale shakily, a lump rising in your throat.
“I’ll make sure,” he murmurs against your lips, “that in your next life, you wear proof of how much I loved you.”