#hoon

A merger disguised as matrimony.

You smiled the entire night like the well-bred heiress you were. Sunghoon smiled too—polite, camera-ready, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. He barely touched you. A hand at the small of your back for photos, a chaste kiss on the cheek when the crowd cheered. That was it.

And now, three weeks later, you’re standing in the middle of his—your—penthouse at the top of Seoul’s most exclusive tower, wearing nothing but an oversized silk slip and fuzzy slippers, trying to figure out how to use the espresso machine that probably cost more than your first car.

Sunghoon is already gone. Again.

He leaves before sunrise most days, comes back after midnight. The only evidence he exists is the faint trace of his cologne in the marble hallway and the occasional sticky note on the fridge that says things like Dinner is in the warmer or Meeting ran late. Don’t wait up. in his neat, elegant handwriting.

You’re not stupid. You know what this is. An arrangement. Two families shaking hands over your heads while the lawyers drew up the contracts. You’re the pretty, fertile bridge between empires. He’s the cold, untouchable heir who never wanted a wife in the first place.

But God, you’re trying.

You’ve always been the good girl. The one who baked cookies for the staff on holidays, who graduated top of her class in business but never raised her voice. The one whose body developed early and never quite listened to the rules of “elegant restraint.” Wide hips that sway when you walk, a plush ass that fills out every pencil skirt, full breasts that strain against even the most modest necklines. You’ve spent your whole life trying to dress it down—high necklines, loose fits, dark colors. Still, people stared.

Sunghoon? He hasn’t stared once.

Not until tonight.

It’s past 11 p.m. when you hear the elevator ding.

You’re in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing one of his white dress shirts as an apron because you spilled flour on your slip while attempting to make his favorite japchae from the recipe his mother sent you. The shirt hits mid-thigh, sleeves rolled up, top three buttons undone because it’s hot from the stove. Your hair is piled on top of your head with a claw clip, a few strands sticking to your neck from the steam.

You don’t hear him come in at first. You’re humming softly, hips moving to the quiet lo-fi playlist playing from the speaker, bending over to check the oven when—

“Smells good.”

His voice is low, rough from the long day. You straighten up so fast you almost hit your head on the range hood.

Sunghoon stands at the edge of the open kitchen, tie loosened, jacket slung over one arm, the top buttons of his black shirt undone. His sharp eyes—those glacier eyes everyone calls “intimidating”—flick over you once. Slow. Like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You tug at the hem of his shirt self-consciously. It barely covers anything. “I—I thought you’d be late again. Made dinner. Or… late-night dinner. Whatever.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just sets his jacket on the island stool and walks closer. You can smell the city on him—cold night air, expensive leather, the faint trace of whiskey from whatever business dinner he just left.

His gaze drops.

Not to your face. To the way the shirt rides up when you shift your weight, exposing the soft curve where your thighs meet your ass. The way the fabric stretches across your chest, the faint outline of your nipples because you’re not wearing a bra and the kitchen is warm.

You see the exact moment something in his brain short-circuits.

His jaw flexes. Once. Twice.

“Sunghoon?” you ask softly, voice the same sweet, slightly breathy tone you always use when you’re nervous. Innocent. Like you have no idea what you look like right now. Because you don’t. You never have.

He clears his throat. “You didn’t have to cook.”

“I wanted to.” You smile, small and hopeful, and turn to grab a plate. The motion makes the shirt ride higher. He sees the full, plush swell of your ass, the way the silk clings to the dip of your waist, the generous curve of your hips.

Breeding material.

The thought slams into him so hard he actually grips the edge of the counter.

You’re his wife. On paper. Untouched. Sheltered. The kind of girl who blushes when someone says “fuck” in a movie. And yet your body was built for exactly what his family wanted from this marriage: soft, fertile, made to carry heirs and look devastating while doing it.

He hates how much that turns him on.

You set the plate in front of him, unaware. “Eat before it gets cold, okay? I’ll clean up—”

“Sit.”

It’s not a request. His voice is low, almost hoarse.

You blink those big, doe eyes at him. “Huh?”

“Sit down, Y/N.”

You obey instantly, sliding onto the stool across from him like the good little wife you’re trying so hard to be. The shirt rides up your thighs. He stares. Doesn’t even pretend not to.

The silence stretches.

You fidget. “Is… is something wrong? Did I do it wrong?”

Sunghoon exhales through his nose. He looks like he’s fighting a war in his head. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

“Oh.” Your cheeks go pink. “I’m sorry, I spilled flour on mine and I didn’t want to wake the maid and—”

“Stop.” He cuts you off. His eyes are darker now. “Stop apologizing for existing in my house.”

Your lips part. Innocent confusion written all over your pretty face. “But it’s your shirt…”

He stands up slowly, walks around the island until he’s right in front of you. Towering. You have to tilt your head back to look at him. He smells like sin and restraint.

“You have any idea what you look like right now?” he murmurs.

You shake your head, genuinely lost.

Sunghoon’s hand lifts. His knuckles brush the side of your thigh where the shirt ends, barely there. You shiver.

“Plush little ass in my shirt,” he says, voice dropping an octave. “Tits spilling out the top. Hips like they were made to be grabbed. And you’re just… humming and cooking like a fucking 1950s housewife.”

Your breath hitches. No one has ever spoken to you like this.

“I—I can change—”

“Don’t.” His fingers tighten on your thigh. “Don’t you dare.”

He’s hard. You can see the bulge straining against his slacks, and the realization makes your stomach flip. You’re a virgin. You’ve never even kissed anyone properly before the wedding kiss that lasted half a second. But your body knows what it wants. It’s been aching for weeks every time he walked past you in the hallway smelling like heaven and distance.

He hauls you up onto the counter in one smooth motion, your ass landing on the cool marble with a soft gasp. The shirt bunches around your waist. He steps between your spread thighs like he belongs there.

His mouth crashes into yours—nothing chaste about it this time.Hungry. Possessive. His tongue slides against yours and you whimper into the kiss, hands fisting his shirt. He tastes like whiskey and want. One big hand slides up your thigh, cups the full cheek of your ass and squeezes hard enough to make you moan.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips. “This ass. Been driving me insane for weeks. Every time you bend over in those little shorts you wear to bed…”

He kisses down your neck, sucking marks into the skin like he’s claiming territory. His other hand palms your breast through the shirt, thumb circling your nipple until it’s stiff and aching.

“You’re built like a wet dream,” he mutters, almost angry. “Wide hips perfect for carrying my kids. Tits so full they’d leak when you’re pregnant. And you’re sweet. So fucking sweet it makes me want to ruin you.”

You’re panting, head spinning. “Sunghoon… I’ve never—”

“I know.” He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are black with lust but there’s something soft underneath. “I know you’re a virgin, baby. That’s why I stayed away. But I can’t anymore. Not when you walk around looking like my personal breeding material in my own goddamn kitchen.”

He drops to his knees.

You squeak when he spreads your thighs wider, pushes the shirt up to your waist. No panties. You never wear them to bed. His breath ghosts over your bare pussy and you tremble.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, almost reverent. “Look at this little cunt. Never been touched and it’s already wet for me.”

He leans in and licks a slow, broad stripe up your folds. Your back arches off the counter with a broken moan. He does it again, firmer, tongue flicking your clit on every pass until you’re shaking.

“Sunghoon—oh god—”

He eats you like a man starved. No hesitation, no teasing. Just hungry, filthy licks and sucks that have you grinding against his face without shame. His hands grip your hips, holding you down as he devours you—lapping at your entrance, sucking your clit, groaning like you taste better than anything he’s ever had.

You come embarrassingly fast, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name like a prayer. He doesn’t stop. He keeps going until you’re sobbing, oversensitive and twitching.

Only then does he stand up, lips shiny with you, and kisses you so you can taste yourself.

“First time I make my wife come and it’s on the kitchen counter,” he says with a dark little laugh. “We’re just getting started.”

He lifts you like you weigh nothing—your legs wrap around his waist instinctively—and carries you to the bedroom. The master suite you’ve been sleeping in alone for three weeks.

He lays you on the bed like you’re precious, then strips. Shirt. Belt. Pants. You watch, wide-eyed, as his cock springs free—thick, long, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. You’ve never seen one in real life. It looks obscene. Perfect.

Sunghoon crawls over you, caging you in. “Still okay?” he asks, voice softer now. “We can stop. I’ll jerk off in the shower like I have been every night since the wedding.”

You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. “I want this. I want you. Please… make me yours for real.”

He kisses you slow and deep, then reaches into the nightstand for lube and a condom. You stop his hand.

“I’m on the pill,” you whisper, cheeks burning. “For… for the marriage. They said it was better if i… .”you stutter trying to find a suitable word.

His eyes flash. The breeding kink he’s been trying to ignore roars back to life.

“No condom,” he growls. “Not tonight. Not ever if you let me. Want to feel you raw. Want to fill this pretty pussy until it leaks.”

You nod frantically.

He slicks himself up anyway, just enough, then notches the head of his cock at your entrance. He pushes in slow—inch by inch—watching your face the entire time. You’re so tight it makes his jaw clench.

“Relax, baby. Breathe. That’s it… good girl.”

It burns, but the stretch feels right. When he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, you both moan. He stays there, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispers. “So warm. So fucking tight. Like you were made for me.”

He starts moving—shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, harder. Every drag of his cock against your walls makes stars burst behind your eyes. He angles his hips and hits a spot that makes you cry out.

“Right there? Yeah? Gonna make you come on my cock like a good little wife.”

He fucks you harder. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the room. His hands are everywhere—squeezing your tits, pinching your nipples, gripping your ass to pull you onto him deeper. He leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing, while his cock pistons in and out.

You come again, clenching around him so hard he groans your name like a curse.

He doesn’t stop. He flips you over onto your stomach, pulls your hips up so your ass is in the air, and slides back in with one smooth thrust. The new angle makes you scream into the pillow.

“Look at this ass,” he pants, spanking one cheek lightly, then harder when you moan. “Bouncing so pretty for me. Gonna fuck you full every night. Keep you dripping with my cum so everyone knows who you belong to.”

You’re babbling now—yes, please, Sunghoon, more—lost in the pleasure. He reaches around and rubs your clit in tight circles.

“Come again. Want to feel you milk me.”

You do. Shaking, sobbing, pussy fluttering around his cock. He follows right after, burying himself to the hilt and coming with a guttural groan. You feel the hot rush of him inside you—thick, endless pulses that make your belly feel warm and full.

He collapses over you, careful not to crush you, and presses soft kisses to your shoulder blades.

After that night, everything changes.

Sunghoon still works long hours, but now he comes home early enough to eat the dinners you make. He eats you for dessert on the kitchen island at least twice a week. He fucks you in the shower, bent over the marble vanity while you watch yourselves in the mirror. He takes you on the balcony under the Seoul skyline, your silk robe hiked up around your waist while he growls filthy promises about knocking you up against the glass.

He’s still the same cold, elegant CEO in public. But at home he’s insatiable—hands always on your ass, mouth always on your neck, cock always ready to remind you who you belong to.

One night, after he’s fucked you slow and deep in the big bed, he lies behind you, spooned up close, hand splayed possessively over your lower belly.

“You know why I stayed away at first?” he murmurs into your hair.

You hum, sleepy and satisfied.

“Because the second I saw you at the altar. those hips, that ass, those tits—I knew I’d never be able to keep my hands off you. Knew I’d want to breed you the first chance I got. And you were looking at me with those big innocent eyes like you’d never had a dirty thought in your life.” He kisses the back of your neck. “Made me feel like a pervert for wanting my own wife so badly.”

You turn in his arms, smiling softly. “I’m not innocent anymore.”

His eyes darken with fresh heat. “No. You’re not.” He rolls you under him again, already hard. “But you’re still my sweet little wife. And I’m never letting you go.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in.

“Good,” you whisper against his lips. “Because I was made to be yours.”

And you were.

The merger thrived. The papers called it a love match. Only the two of you knew the truth: it started as an arrangement, but the moment Sunghoon saw you in his kitchen wearing nothing but his shirt and that body built for sin and softness, it became something else entirely.

It became real.

And he was never going to get enough.

©hoonalt

heeseung has always been your comfort person: the person you always sat next to without hesitation, the name that comes up naturally when someone asks who you're with, and the one 'friend' who you kept by your side for literal years. he was the closest person to you — so close that when your class announced the best duo and your names were called, no one seemed surprised. 

the whole moment played out in your mind clearly, like it was yesterday. it was the last day of the second semester at university; you still remember watching that big stage as your friend, eunchae, and another classmate, kyujin, called out names for the end of semester awards. the best diva award went to kim sunoo. another award was presented to sim jaeyun, for being the smartest in the class. there were group awards as well. some guys called park jay and yang jungwon went on the stage, poking each other teasingly, to get their deserved award for the most annoying duo, while the award for the most fake nonchalant duo went to a park sunghoon and a nishimura riki. 

then the last award was presented. eunchae shouted out my name, followed by "and lee heeseung!" right after. our names echoed in the room along with everyone whistling loudly, teasing, laughing, shouting. best duo. you got left so deep in thought that you didn't notice heeseung already up, reaching out for your hand. you looked at him, gracefully taking his hand and walking up to the stage to collect your crowns. as both of you walked down from the stage hand in hand (with you still processing what was going on), someone walked past, shouting "just date already!" in the most casual tone ever. laughing it off was way easier than admitting anything, but that stuck with you. and when you took a swift glance at heeseung, the corners of his mouth curved with that soft, familiar smile. his eyes crinkled like it didn't bother him. 

even though it did. because awards like that had to mean something — right? 

but weeks later, something else had occupied your mind. 

a late night, lying on heeseung's bedroom floor. exams were around the corner, so you and heeseung agreed to study at his house... but sooner or later, there were no books in sight. you both stared into the ceiling. the silence felt louder than your conversations. suddenly, something clicked in heeseung and he got up. you followed him, getting up to lean back on your hands. "what happened, hee?" your head tilted slightly, looking for his eyes, curious as to what made him sit up. questions ran in your mind. his head hung low. his mind was still hesitating, but his body worked faster than his brain. he grabbed your chin and paused, inches away from your smooth, rosy lips. "you can pull back if you want." his voice quickly sounded in a low whisper before your lips crashed. your eyes widened in shock but slowly closed after easing into the kiss. you didn't dare to pull back. this was your one chance to get a taste of the luxury you've prayed several nights for. you hardly began to savour the flavour when heeseung pulled back. your sparkling eyes, full of plea and pleasure, made him rethink, but it was too late now. you pulled yourself together, getting up in a specific way just to hide your blushed face, mumbling a quick goodnight, and leaving to your own house. your mind couldn't stop repeating that memory. he made sure it didn't last long — but it lasted long enough to change everything.

ever since that moment, anything about relationships, labels, or the kiss felt illegal coming out of either of your mouths. to add to that, something else changed.  

he started staying over more often. some nights you actually studied — hunched over textbooks, the only noise in the room being brief explanations of things the other didn't understand. all until the sun was threatening to rise. other times, you both gave up and talked for hours on end, gaming, laughing, lying side by side. in short moments where you were too close to each other, your knees brushed a couple of times or your shoulders touched. even though you were too good at pretending you lost the rounds because of your exhaustion after studying too hard every time, you felt those sparks, the excitement, and the contact which made you long for more, between you and him. and he did too. 

he began to pick you up without asking. he drove you everywhere, while favourite songs in a playlist designed for you were on shuffle, — early morning classes, afternoon lectures, midnight food runs. he invited you to candlelit dinners and shared meals with you like it was the most natural thing in the world. it felt like dating; it felt like something you were both familiar with — yet no one said the word. it stayed unnamed because neither of you wanted to face the consequences from the other. your thoughts synced, as if on purpose. 'would this ruin what we have now?' 

it was nearing christmas time. the streets were already dusted with hints of frost. soft glows from street lamps were cast on falling snowflakes, making everything seem as if it belonged in a snow globe. the air had a crisp, almost biting edge to it, which made you pull your scarf tighter around your neck. little puffs of mist rose as you breathed. winter was your favourite season, and somehow, it felt like it promised to become your favourite in a whole new way.

at first, it was a lighthearted joke. heeseung suggested you buy each other a gift as a challenge for the holidays. you didn't expect to actually go with it... until you wandered enough, alone at the mall, and found something that instantly made you think of him. something that you knew felt like us. your chest tightened. 'it isn't the best gift,' you thought, but you decided it would be better than anything else you thought of later. 

you made it home hours ago; you were absolutely drained from the end of exam season. you could finally laze around on your spacious, comfy couch, covered with a heated blanket, with no regret watching seconds, minutes, hours pass by without preparing for your finals. your gift was already packed, ready to be opened on the counter in your living room. it sat in a pretty little box, with a flowy ribbon beautifully tied at the top, curly ends hanging from the sides. it read 'heeseung <3' on the top. the heart was a final touch that you added after you battled with your thoughts. you decided that after handing over this gift to heeseung, you wanted to properly talk to him. with no shortcuts, no hesitation, and absolutely no running away. 

you realised how much time had passed by since the time you had kissed and the impact it left on both of you. your vision blurred every time that moment popped up in your brain. you didn't even know how he felt about it, and you were only looking for the truth tonight. you built up your confidence the whole evening; you traced loops in your house. words that were waiting to come out of your mouth for years trembled on the tip of your tongue — of course, you prepared only for the worst. as you repeatedly rehearsed what you were going to say, the doorbell rang. the ringing echoed in the whole house, reaching your ears.

your feet scurried across the room towards the door. there was a creak, and your eyes stayed glued to the floor. a tall, dark shadow streaked across as the door crept open. all the confidence you built up earlier seemed to have cracked slightly, but whatever was left was enough to greet heeseung anyway. you both went in for a quick hug — making you feel warmer than with your heated blanket over you. he stood there, and you noticed his enchanting eyes. those doe eyes cast a spell on you with no doubt in your mind. you saw those eyes for the first time when he begged you to stay over at his place. those were the eyes you couldn't ever resist. you pretended those stupid doe eyes didn't affect you. not only that, but also the pure joy pouring out of his smile as he held a bag close to his chest. you couldn't tell exactly what was in it — some kind of clothes, you thought. 

his arm reaches out, handing you the gift bag. "open it! open it, please." he giggled uncontrollably, full of anticipation. you couldn't contain yourself for any moment longer, and he didn't seem to either, so you led him inside while he urged you to open his gift. shoes were kicked off by the door, and his jacket was hung in the corridor. he walked in comfortably and straightaway sank into the couch you were on a minute ago. it shows that, more often, he's the one at your place. it was his second home, drawing near to his first. 

you took a seat next to him and slowly opened the bag. you reached inside, and your hands brushed against the soft fabric. you pulled out two sets of the same pyjamas, with adorable christmas designs printed on. you saw a couple of candy canes, reindeer and snowflakes while the background alternated between red, green, and white diagonal stripes. simple. warm. you sat for a long moment, heart pounding fast. "f-for us?" you struggled to find your voice, throat dry, stuttering for no reason. you seriously did not expect this from him. 

he nodded excitedly, while your brain cogs turned continuously. yes, you did love it. you loved the idea, and you were going to wear these for the rest of your life. but you didn't want to sit around, stuck in the middle of what you were and what you could be. you still remember your earlier intentions.

placing the pyjamas on your lap, you cross your arms. "is this all you're going to do? dress us up and act like everything's fine?" your tone is low — not angry, but frustrated. you watch as his face falls, his sparkling eyes dim, and all the happiness you enjoyed seeing in that soft smile disappears.

your heart began to sink. you've never ever made heeseung on the verge of tears, but you already touched the spark, and you can't stop until it burns out.

"you just decide that we should match pyjamas and say nothing else? what about every single time you've taken me out to romantic dinners, feeding each other from our own forks, sharing desserts like it's a date? or the way we stay over at each other's places till sunrise as if they are our own?" suddenly, all the past memories flooded your head, pushing you over the edge. you couldn't believe you were still waiting for him to say something after all these years. you raised your voice slightly. "you pick me up, you eat with me, you look at me like i genuinely mean something to you... you don't get to do all of this and pretend like it's nothing! don't even get me started on that time you ki—" 

you're interrupted by the feeling of his lips on you. the coldness of his lips startled you; they were almost numb as the winter outside still lingered on him. his lips finally warmed up to yours, a hint of desperation in the way he was tangled up in you. his hands slowly made their way to pull you in more. suddenly, his tears slipped free, blending into the kiss. the kiss was still soft with a taste of salty, sweet, and bitterness all mixed up in a way that hurt. it wasn't perfect or practiced. it was shaky, honest — like he wasn't hiding behind jokes or silence anymore. as you both pulled away, his breath shook. he stayed close, forehead resting against yours. he didn't trust himself to let go. 

"i'm so sorry, darling. i kept running away from the truth because i was scared to lose... you." his voice sounded through his sniffing. "i was scared to lose you with all my heart, but instead i made you doubt something that was real to me." he continued, his tone serious. "i kissed you that night and never talked about it again because i didn't know what to think... i didn't know if you wanted it too. i was being selfish; i never meant to hurt you, i promise." his doe eyes glistened once again, and you finally smiled. you cupped his face, using your thumbs to rub away his tears. 

"i like you. no — actually," he took a long pause. "i think i love you." he looked you deep in the eyes, as if trying to read your mind. trying to find any response from you at all. you knew it was genuine when he looked desperate for an answer, just waiting for me to say something back. he let out a small laugh he had been stifling behind his tears, saying "is that what you wanted to hear?" in an attempt to lighten the mood as well. classic heeseung.

but you were stuck in your own thoughts. his words replayed in your mind. heeseung loves me. lee heeseung loves me truly. 

"i love you too, hee." and you laid another kiss on his lips; this time it was more sweet. it was full of love and warmth, with nothing to hide. "and yes, you idiot! of course, i wanted to hear you say it..." you pouted while he kissed your cheeks, then couldn't resist your cute pout and kissed it too. 

there was a long silence before heeseung interrupted it, "soo..." his eyes took a quick look around the room. "will you try on the pyjamas?" 

a few minutes later, you come out of your bedroom in the pyjamas while heeseung waited for you, already dressed in the living room. it was a perfect fit, with super soft, warm fabric in addition to delicate designs and colour combinations you adored. you walked over to him and sat in between his legs. "you look really good." he placed his face onto the nape of your neck, placing small kisses going down as he wrapped his strong arms around your waist and hugged you tightly. his grip on you was tight; it didn't seem like he was planning to let go soon, or ever. 

"should we take photos?" you suggested. you suddenly felt yourself not sitting anymore. heeseung jumped up at your idea, clutched onto you, and lifted you up in the air. before you could stop yourself, you shouted "put me down, seungie!!" through your laughter. he stopped in his tracks, like a deer in headlights, and slowly placed you back on your feet. 'oh no,' you thought. he turned you around, grabbing you by the shoulders. "what... did you just call me?" heeseung squinted, staring you dead in the eyes. you avoided his and closed your own, slowly inhaled, as to prepare for something terrible. "oh, i'm sorry, it just slipped out i won—"

"say it again," a low whisper. 

"huh?" 

"can you... call me that? forever?" he whispered again, this time a little louder.

"seungie...?" you leaned in closer. "you like that?" a mischievous curl of your lips. you saw his ears turn red from your reaction, and you instantly laughed. "okay, okay! i didn't know you were so into pet names." but you weren't done yet. so you went on, "calm down... cutie." you hear a muffled response as he folds and collapses to the ground, "HEY, THAT'S NOT FAIR—" 

soon after, you began taking photos, and his gallery was filled. you scrolled through them together, you comfortably lying on his shoulder. some photos were of you silly posing for him in the pyjamas; a karate pose, you rolled up into a ball, the splits, 0.5x photos. others of him in the mirror (which you teased him for, saying how he easily could've won the most fake nonchalant award with these photos) and both of you together — him behind you, biting your neck while you took the photo in the mirror, and a couple of you guys kissing each other. he smiles to himself, thumb hovering over the screen — thinking your eyes aren't totally all over him right now, when they are. you place a quick peck on his cheek on your side and you see him absolutely melt from just your touch.

he turns his head around to face you. "can i post it?" 

you blinked a couple times. "post... it?" 

"yeah." he went to one of the photos of you kissing each other and scrolled back and forth, waiting for you to choose one. you scrolled to the one you liked most. 

his one hand carefully resting on your waist, the other holding your chin. your lips — definitely touching. 

there it was. no confession, no dramatic speech, but a public post. it was certain. 

you insisted, "you don't have to." even though you were hoping he would.

he shook his head lightly. "i want to." he looked at you once again, waiting for confirmation. you nodded in response instantly.

without another word, he clicked 'post.'

the caption? simple. 

'mine. ♡ 20251211 #gf'

you smiled unconsciously looking at it. 

and when your phone began to buzz with millions of notifications, neither of you looked away. you still stayed close, resting on each other's heads. 

before you knew it, you were back at his place just spending time with still the closest person to you. it's just that you called him your boyfriend now, lee heeseung. he suggested you play one more round of the game and call it a day, and your competitive self could never back down. 

he went over to his desk to turn on his lamp, since it had gotten dark too quickly. on the stand of the lamp, there were two small deer with beautiful patterns on their backs, their noses touching. as heeseung turned the lamp on with a click, the shadows created stunning patterns spreading all around his quiet bedroom. he admired the lamp for a while. he leaned down, landing a kiss onto your forehead. 

"i think your gift was better, love." he confessed to you, shrugging his shoulders. you got defensive way too quickly, and began to explain the unfathomable feelings. "not a chance, seungie. you don't understand the lengths i would've gone for these pyjamas, man." you wrapped your arms around your body. "where did you even get them? did a fairy godmother appear and bless you with them? because they do not feel as if they were hanging around in some boring store." heeseung just died of laughter while you continued to rant about how incredible the pyjamas were. 

and for the first time, he didn't leave the space between the both of you unnamed. 

thank you for reading. any interactions are appreciated <3  note ~~ this work is fiction.  disclaimer: no ai was used in the writing of this work. i do not own the photos used in this post. sunsriri all rights reserved. i do not allow copy or translations of my works.

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