“You don’t have to be brave right now… that’s not what this is.”
“No matter what happens—I’ve got you.”
pairing: husband!heeseung x wife!reader
genre: sequel ⋆ contemporary romance ⋆ smut ⋆ heavy angst
This content is only for readers 18+
content warning: heavy angst, strong language, sensitive themes, sexual content, brief mentions of alcohol, infertility and treatments, needle usage(medical), discussions of pregnancy, low self-worth talk/self-esteem issues, marital issues, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie
read part one here!
word count: 10.8k (buckle up!)
soundtrack: pov- ariana grande/ warm-ariana grande /what was i made for?- billie eilish
Heeseung holds your hand in one and his suitcase in the other as he frantically drags you through the airport crowd.
You follow behind as he weaves in and out of the sea of people, searching for your boarding gate.
“Did you pack Cal's toothbrush? His blanket? He can’t sleep without his blanket.” You say, your brows furrowing as your heart aches at the thought of leaving Callum behind.
“He’s got everything I double, no triple checked,” Heeseung says with a smile as you arrive at the boarding gate, stepping in line to find your seats on the plane.
You glance down you your hand loosely gripped by his. You're ring softly catches the fluorescent lights of the airport terminal.
You’re a “Mrs.” now. It’s invigorating and terrifying all at once. You’re still riding your emotional high from the wedding. Even though it was simple, that didn’t stop you from getting overwhelmed during the process.
Who to invite, what flavor to make the cake, how the neckline of your dress should be.
In the end, the two of you decided only to invite close friends and family to a cozy local venue. The ceremony was softly romantic, vows read through shaky breaths and waves of tears.
Everyone knows the wedding is the easy part.
Marriage is the real test.
But you’re ready for all the roadblocks you’re sure will get thrown at you. Especially with Heeseung at your side.
His voice calms you. You take a deep breath, exhaling and letting your shoulders drop their tension.
“Look, my mom already sent a picture of Cal. He’ll be fine…let’s just enjoy our honeymoon. I don’t want to see you under any more stress.” Heeseung says softly, giving your hand a comforting squeeze.
He flips his phone around, showing you the text from his mother, who offered to watch Callum during your trip.
He looks happy, smiling as he frosts one of her homemade desserts. Cake batter already staining his face.
“Besides…it’s going to be impossible to keep my hands off of you the second we step foot onto that resort,” Heeseung says with a deep tone, leaning in to place a soft kiss to the side of your face before grabbing your suitcases to board the plane.
— ✧ —
He’s right. The minute you check into your private beachfront rental, his hands are all over you. You don't even have time to unpack before he’s dragging you to the large king-sized bed overlooking a window a spacious window with a view of the beach.
“Damn, you weren't lying, Hee..” you gasp as he kisses you, intimately dragging his hands down your body. The cold metal of his wedding band brushes against the skin of your waist as he pushes you down into the bed.
“Did you think I was? Honey, you should know me better by now.” Heeseung chuckles to himself as his lips drag across the corner of your lips, down to your jawline.
“We’ve been married what, three days, and you’re already calling me honey…” You reply, breath hitching as his lips drag down your throat. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers as he pins them down to the soft sheets.
Heeseung lets out a soft, breathless laugh against your skin. Squeezing your hand tighter as he pushes you deep into the bed. “I should go ahead and have room service drop off extra sheets, because God, we’re going to need them.”
— ✧ —
After a long day of exploring the resort and each other, you both retreat to your shared room for the night.
Today is the calmest you’ve felt in weeks, and you truly do have Heeseung to thank for that. And maybe the facial at the spa helped a little bit too.
Yet you still have a small ache in the back of your heart. Something you’ve been thinking about, something you’ve been aching to get off your chest.
You step out of the shower, not even bothering to properly cover yourself, knowing damn well that the night is a long way from being over. You loosely dry your hair before stepping into your bedroom.
Heeseung is already on the bed waiting. His chest bare, the dim light of the room highlighting every dip and curve of his muscles.
His gaze darkens as he sees your figure in the doorway. His breath catches in his throat like it's his first time seeing you.
He can hardly breathe.
Your bare feet drag against the carpet as you climb onto the bed next to him, the loose slip you’ve thrown over your body hardly covering any details.
Immediately, his hands are fulfilling his promise. Sliding across your waist and thighs, your heart flutters just like the first time.
Heeseung doesn’t even speak; he just helps guide you back down onto the bed like so many times already.
His hands gently pushing the straps of your slip down, his lips dragging across your shoulder. The sound of his uneven breath was loud against the soft sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore.
You close your eyes, working up the courage to express what you’ve been holding back.
“Heeseung—“ you whisper, your voice shaking as you glance into his dark eyes.
Once he hears the fear in your tone, he immediately stops, dragging his mouth away from your skin.
“What is it? Is everything okay?” He asks, his hand gently sliding to cup the side of your face as he looks down at you, brows furrowed with concern.
“Yes, better than okay...Heeseung, this has been just perfect.” You say a quiet pause grows thick between you. Like you want to confess, but the words are caught inside your throat.
“But…” Heeseung asks, raising an eyebrow. He knows more than anyone else exactly what that look on your face means.
“But there’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately and I just need to tell you.” You confess, the weight already feels like it’s being lifted off your shoulders.
“Heeseung, now that we’re married, I want to try for a baby.” You say, eyes wide, voice completely blunt. Not a sliver of hesitation in your tone.
Heeseung's expression is beyond shocked. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. Over the past year, he’s been your struggle. He’s seen the defeated look in your face after another visit to the doctor, the silent sobs you let out when you thought he was sleeping.
He’s made it clear. The choice is yours to make. One hundred percent. And no matter what, he knows he’ll be happy with the outcome. He already has everything he needs, you, Callum—
But when you confess you want to try. He can’t hide his excitement. Heeseung gently cups your face, leaning in to kiss you, his lips curving into a shameless smile as he moves his lips against yours.
He pulls away, breath mingling with yours as his forehead rests against yours. If this is your choice, he’s more than happy to be with you every step of the way.
“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that because of something I may have said? Because I already have everything I could need, anything else is just a bonus.” Heeseung asks only to be interrupted by your soft voice.
“I’m sure. This is what I want, truly…what I’ve wanted for a long time…” you confess, letting out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding.
“Fuck—let’s make a baby right now.” Heeseung whispers with a soft chuckle. His voice was low and deep as something inside him snapped.
His grip becomes rougher. His breath is shaky as his lips find yours again, messy, rough, desperate.
His hands push your slip further down your body, over your breasts, letting your nipples harden from the cool air of the room. His hands are trembling slightly as they hold your waist.
His knees slide between yours, opening you up for him as his lips drag down the column of your throat to the top of your breasts, hot, worshiping.
“I want to remember this, every second, Mrs. Lee,” Heesung confesses. His words carry heavy weight as he looks down at you, no longer his secretary, no longer his girlfriend.
His wife.
God, you’ve come a long way in such a short amount of time. You gasp, that familiar sound going straight to the heat in his stomach as his lips drag across your nipple, toying, flicking the sensitive flesh in the way he knows you like it.
“God—Heeseung.” You gasp, warmth pooling between your thighs, hips already arching off the mattress in search of him.
He releases your sensitive nipple with a soft breath, his hand cupping the weight of your other breast as he looks down at you. Completely and utterly in love.
“I feel like the luckiest man alive to call you my wife,” Heeseung confesses, his hands sliding down your body to push the rest of the remaining fabric off your hips, carelessly tossing the garment onto the bedroom floor.
You can hardly breathe, you can’t believe this is real, that this life is truly yours.
Heeseung bends down, kissing down your stomach, across your hips, savoring every whisper and breath fallen from your lips.
Like so many times before, he hooks his arms underneath your knees, positioning himself between your thighs, breathing hot against your already dripping core.
He lets out a sharp breath, kissing the inside of your glistening thighs, savoring every shiver and twitch.
His heart is racing in his chest, and he can hardly take it. He rests his head against your thigh, just looking up at you from below.
“I love you, I love you so much, you don’t even know.” he confesses before leaning back in, savoring the sweet scent of you as his lips kiss the edge of your clit.
He grips you tighter, hands pushing your thighs back to expose you more. You can feel his shaky breath against your core as he pauses, just savoring the very moment of having you like this, as his wife.
His tongue is warm, wet against your aching folds as he licks a slow stripe from your dripping hole to your swollen clit. A deep groan gets caught in his chest.
His wedding band is cold against your thigh as he grips you tighter. His mouth is hot against you as he runs his tongue between your folds like it’s the last time he ever will.
You throw your head back against the pillows, the small diamond of your ring catching the dim light as your fingertips thread through his dark hair. Reminding you, that this life you have is real.
His left hand slides from the back of your thigh, his lips latching onto your clit shamelessly as he lets his rough fingertips drag through your wetness.
You both moan in synch, the gesture causing your hips to lift off the mattress, mindlessly chasing his fingertips.
“Fuck I could stay down here forever. Never gonna get tired of this..” Heeseung gasps; his words only turn you on more.
His fingertips push into your wet heat with ease, his tongue flicking your clit in time with each delicious thrust of his fingers. Your juices are dripping, coating the ring on his finger before dripping down his wrist.
You’re so wet, the sounds echo off the walls and windows of the room. Your moans mix between the erotic sounds shamelessly.
“Heeseung fuck…” You moan deep, fingertips gripping even tighter at his hair. He knows that tone of voice better than anyone. He knows you're close from that alone.
He keeps his pace. Fingertips fucking into you with vigor, his mouth relentless against your sensitive, aching clit.
He gasps as your thighs clench around his head, his free hand shakes as he holds you open.
“Fuck..fuck…” you gasp, shamelessly coming before you can even speak.
You close your eyes, focusing on the feeling of his fingers stretching you wide, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body.
Your legs shake as you come, moans getting caught deep in your chest as wave after wave of pleasure pours through you. You soak the sheets as Heeseung desperately tries to savor what he can with his tongue.
His fingertips slow to a stop. The overstimulation makes your brows furrow as you ache, coming down from your orgasm completely breathless.
“My beautiful wife...you did so good, so fucking good for me.” Heeseung whispers. Licking the rest of your arousal from his lips before sliding his fingers out of you with a lewd splash.
He licks them clean with no shame. He tastes you on them like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He reaches between your bodies to slide his pants down. His length springing free. Too hard already, pulsing and leaking with need.
“Can’t waste any of this, can we?” Heeseung teases as he pushes your thighs apart. Sliding into you with slick ease. His hands are resting on either side of your face.
You can’t believe this is all happening, you laugh shamelessly—he’s right, every drop does count.
“Heesung…” You whisper, the familiar stretch of him making you clench around him with need. He gasps, gripping the sheets tighter as he slowly starts to move, thrusting into your heat with a slow, tantalizing pace.
“Marrying you was everything…but God, if you want to try for more, we’ll fucking try. The world will only be blessed with more parts of you in it.” Heesung whispers against your lips. His voice is heavy, hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat of the heat of your bodies.
“I love you. Heeseung, I love you.” You gasp, the bed creaking beneath you as he thrusts harder. The headboard slamming against the thin walls of the room.
You pull him down, letting your mouth find his in a heated, messy kiss that pours out every thank you that you can’t say out loud.
“No matter what happens...this isn’t about the outcome. This is about how much I love you.” Heeseung whispers as his forehead rests against your own, his thrusts sharp and calculated as he stretches you full.
After that, there's nearly silence. Just the harsh breaths of the two of you and the soft waves crashing against the shore.
You glance into Heeseung's eyes as he smiles down at you. With so much love and care, it nearly brings you to tears. He brushes the hair from your eyes, softly kisses your lips.
You feel complete, without him having to say a single word. And it’s true, no matter what you know you’ll be happy.
But there’s still hope.
Hope to give Callum a sibling to walk beside him. Hope to bring a beautiful piece of you and Heeseung into the world.
Something created by pure love, to be loved.
“I’m close…” You whimper, your voice cutting through sharp breaths like a knife in the silence. That familiar warmth starts to grow in your stomach, like a coil pulled tight, ready to snap.
“Me too, baby me too. Gonna fill you up so good.” Heeseung mutters as sweat drips down his chest, his arms trembling as he holds himself up. Hands gripping the sheets hard on either side of your face.
He pistions into you faster, the sounds lewd as they fill the room. You let any and every sound fall from your lips as he drives you closer to your release.
“You can take all of it, I know you can…fuck baby take it all, don’t let it spill…” Heeseung mutters under his breath. You grip his biceps tightly as the headboard slams against the wall harder with each heavy thrust.
You break. Coming without warning as you pulse and squeeze around his cock. Crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure flows through your body.
The feeling of your wet heat gripping him tight is enough to send Heeseung over the edge. He comes hard.
Ropes of hot come spill into you. You moan as you feel it. Tears are pooling in the corners of your eyes as you plead to whatever God is out there that this will work.
Heeseung leans down, capturing your lips with his, slow and messy as he pumps his release into you. Making sure to catch every last drop.
There’s a quiet silence after both of you finish. The weight of the situation hangs heavy in the air.
“You always do so good, so fucking good.” Heeseung praises as he slowly pulls himself out of you. The sticky mess of desire slips down your thighs and onto the bedsheets below.
“Just wait right here,” Heeseung says as he gently kisses your temple before disappearing into the dimly lit bathroom.
The sound of water running in the distance helps drown out the thoughts. What if this never works? What if it does work? Is it even worth trying, or is this a lost cause? You already have Callum, shouldn’t that be enough?
Heeseung steps back into the room with a warm towel in hand, immediately snapping you out of your spiral. He softly pushes your legs apart. Wiping the arousal from your skin. He lets out a soft sigh before he pauses.
“Did I hurt you?” He whispers, his voice soft, barely loud enough to be heard.
“No, no Heeseung, it was perfect…I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” You say intimately.
He leans down, hands gently resting on your hips before sliding across your stomach, his eyes watching...imagining what could be.
“I hope she has your eyes…and your heart,” Heeseung confesses before gently leaning in to brush his lips across your stomach.
“She? Heeseung, we don’t even know if—“
“Shhh.” He interrupts softly with a smile. “I know, I know, I just have a feeling…”
This time, you don’t protest, you don’t hit him with the facts written on your medical records.
For once, you let yourself just hope.
— ✧ —
“Mommy! Daddy!” A small voice calls out as the two of you step into the door of your new home.
Boxes are still in the corners waiting to be unpacked. The walls are still blank from the move.
“We missed you, Cal!” You call out as you drop your bags on the floor. Letting Callum run straight into your arms.
“You were gone so long I thought you left me to eat peas for EVER…” Callum says, his head leaning against your shoulder as his little hands hold you tight.
“Oh yeah? Did grandma make you eat all the yucky peas?” You reply, holding Callum on your hip like it’s second nature as you walk into the kitchen. Heeseung handles the luggage behind you.
You set him down before you turn to open the fridge. The drawing Callum made catches your eyes. From all those months ago at the office.
A stick figure family of a man with dark hair, a little boy with the same, and a woman who looks a lot like you.
It’s still front and center against the stainless steel being held together with a homemade magnet.
Home.
You breathe in the smell of the candles mixed with the leftover traces of Grandma's cooking. Vacation is always nice, but you can’t beat the feeling of finally being home.
You lazily throw together three sandwiches as Heeseung unpacks the luggage. Callum is playing with his toys on the floor of the kitchen behind you. Everything feels complete. But that what if still lingers.
“Dinners Ready!” You call out, Heeseung swiftly drags his feet down the hall to meet the two of you.
All of you sit at the table, munching on your low-effort meal.
“Cal, are you ready to start school on Monday?” Heeseung asks with a smile. Subtly reminding you that vacation time is over.
And shit…school starts on Monday.
You mentally start to run through a list of things to do and buy, barely even catching Callum’s response in the process.
“Yes, daddy! I’m so excited to ride the school bus like on TV!” Callum says, grinning ear to ear.
“You’re a big boy now, huh, Cal. All grown up and riding the school bus.” You say softly. Ruffling his hair as you lean across the table to take everyone’s empty plates.
“I picked up the school supply list, it’s on the counter, it’s…a lot. I don’t remember needing all these supplies when I was in kindergarten.” Heeseung says, pinching the bridge of his nose as you look at the sheet printed front and back.
“Don’t stress, we can run to the store tomorrow and just pick up everything he needs in one go.” You say softly, your voice visibly calming him as it cuts through the sound of the dishwasher being loaded.
“God, what would I do without you..” Heeseung says into your ear as he wraps his arms around you, placing a soft, innocent kiss to your lips.
“Ewww you guys are kissing? That’s so gross…” Callum exclaims from across the room. His sounds of animated disgust make you chuckle.
“Trust me Cal...when you’re older, you’ll realize this is a good thing,” Heeseung says deeply, his comment going in one ear and out the other. He places another soft kiss to your cheek before pulling away.
— ✧ —
Just as promised, the three of you get up bright and early to shop for Callum’s school supplies. You were always the type to try and beat out the crowd, even if the three of you can’t stop yawning in the process.
Heeseung and Callum walk in front of you as you lazily push the cart around. List and pen in hand as they throw pencils, notebooks, erasers, and candy into the cart.
You shake your head, watching the two of them as Heeseung helps him pick out the right amount of folders.
“Spider-Man or Superman?” Heeseung asks Callum as he holds up a notebook with each.
“SPIDER-MAN!!!” Callum replies, grabbing the Spider-Man notebook and throwing it into the cart with the others.
Your heart warms for your husband. You can only imagine how he feels about Callum turning five. The years seem to blown by faster than ever.
You have to thank that nanny for quitting. That’s really what started this all. That’s really what brought you your happy ending.
It’s almost hard to believe the same little boy who was dragged to the office on a random Tuesday is now your son, calling you mom.
Your heart feels full, you smile as you push the shopping cart behind them as they find the rest of the supplies on the list.
You check out and load all the shopping bags into the back of Heeseung's car before shutting the trunk,
You buckle Callum into his booster seat. His head drooping from exhaustion. He must’ve really worn himself out with the school supply shopping.
The car ride home is quiet. A little too quiet. You glance in the rear-view mirror, catching a glimpse of Callum fast asleep in his car seat.
You let out a sharp breath as you watch Heeseung drive. Eyes linger on the way he taps the top of the wheel every time he hits a red stoplight. The two of you have really come to know each other, even long before the wedding.
Of course, you’ve been having sex…a lot of it. Especially since the three of you moved into the new house.
And still, no signs of getting pregnant.
“Heeseung…” You ask softly, your voice cutting through the silence, but not loud enough to wake Callum.
“Yes, my love?” Heeseung replies softly, his eyes still focused on the road ahead. Too focused to notice your hands fidgeting in your lap.
“So you know how we’ve been together for well over a year now, and I haven’t gotten any signs of getting pregnant. At all.” You say voice cutting through the cool air like a knife.
“What about it, love? Is something hurting you?” Heeseung asks, tearing his gaze away from the road for a moment when he hears the hoarse tone in your voice.
“What if we looked into other options…I think we should go to a fertility clinic and see if there are tests or procedures or something that can be done.” You confess. The words are heavy as they fall off your tongue.
“You really think it’s worth a shot?” Heeseung asks, his voice barely above the sound of a whisper.
“I do..” You whisper back. The tension in the car is heavy.
“If that’s what you truly want to do. I’ll take you to every appointment, hold your hand through all of it. We’re in this together now, one hundred percent.” Heeseung says as he softly takes your hand from his lap, bringing it to his lips and placing a soft kiss to your skin before focusing back onto the road.
If you’re going to face this fear with anyone. You’re grateful it’s with him.
— ✧ —
Monday creeps around the corner. Heeseung rests his hand on your lower back as the two of you stand at the edge of your driveway. The sun rises over the horizon, the morning dew still glistening in the grass.
Callum impatiently waits at the edge of the driveway. Holding his Spider-Man backpack tight as he taps his new shoes against the concrete.
“He’s gotten so big so fast…I can’t believe it’s already his first day of kindergarten.” Heeseung says, his voice shaky as you lean your head against his shoulder.
You softly pull him closer by the waist, running circles overtop his suit in an attempt to comfort him. His eyes watered as the bus pulled around the corner into the neighborhood. The engine coming to a stop right in front of your driveway.
“Remember what we told you, Cal?” You call out as the doors open. Callum hesitates before running back up the driveway, crashing into both of you.
“I’ll be good for Ms.Johnson, I promise…” he mumbles into Heeseung's side. You both let out a soft chuckle, fighting as tears start to form as all the emotions hit you at once.
“Go on, Cal, you don’t want to be late for your first day...” Heeseung nudges him towards the stopped bus at the edge of the driveway.
“I love you, mommy! I love you, daddy!” Cal calls out before he steps onto the yellow bus. Finding his seat and frantically waving out the window.
Heeseung holds you close as he tries not to fall apart. The two of you wave back, and the bus engine hums as it disappears into the distance.
“You okay?” You ask, sniffling back your own tears before gently wiping the tears running down his cheeks.
“Yeah, I just…he’s grown so much, before we know it we’ll have a teenager,” Heeseung confesses as the two of you sniffle again, the tears slowly coming to a stop.
“I’ve got to go to the office. I’ll be home to help you take your shots.” Heeseung whispers before kissing you softly. His lips linger a moment longer than they should before he pulls away.
“Okay…” You choke out. The thought that you’re really going through with this, enough to make your heart race even more. What if it doesn’t work? What if it does work and you get to relive this moment all over again?
“Don’t stress, call me if you need anything,” Heeseung replies with a hopeful smile as he grabs his work case and starts the car.
“I love you!” He calls out with a smile before closing the car door shut and backing out of the driveway.
You turn on your heel to slowly make your way back into the house. You’re immediately hit with an unfamiliar silence.
No meetings, no emails, no Callum.
You set up your laptop on the kitchen table. Pulling out a pen, paper, and a to-do list that only keeps growing.
School supply shopping
Callum’s first day
Email Ms.Johnson
You cross out what you can. The next task hits you like a brick.
Start Job Search.
It was HR policy that both of you couldn’t stay at the company where you met. When the news of the engagement broke out, HR gave you the choice.
One of you leaves the other can stay.
The two of you talked it over and decided it would be best for him to stay. But now, with the wedding and honeymoon a thing of the past. It was time to get back to work.
You open up your web browser, skimming through the job listings in your town. Adjusting your resume. Check for typos before you send it in.
You get sucked into a cycle of applying and applying. Sending message after message on LinkedIn. After a few hours, it’s become a waiting game.
Callum came home first, barreling through the front door to tell you all about his first day. You listen as he goes on about his teacher, his class, and the things he learned.
Just as you finish cooking dinner, you hear the sound of keys fumbling at the door.
Heeseung lets out a sigh of relief as he steps through the doorway, his eyes visibly strained and tired.
The three of you eat before you tuck Callum into bed. He’s on a school schedule now. That makes things easier and harder at the same time.
You give him a soft kiss on his forehead before you turn off the lights and quietly shut the door.
Heeseung meets you in the hall. Freshly showered, casually dressed in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt.
You almost get Deja vu from that night. The first night you tucked in Callum, the first night he asked you to stay.
You still remember the taste of the cheap wine he offered you. The way your heart raced as he kissed you for the first time. The way his hands ran across your body like you were something precious worth saving.
“You ready?” He asks, his hand guiding you back towards the kitchen. The air was charged with tension. Excitement and nervousness swell in your stomach.
All the supplies were laid out on the countertop. An alcohol pad and syringe that looks bigger than you remember.
You stand against the counter holding up the edge of your shirt. You're visibly shaking. Thinking of all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways this won’t work out.
And that needle…you can’t even look at the needle.
“Hey…you don’t have to be brave right now…that’s not what this is.” Heeseung whispers as his thumbs gently trace the skin right above the waistband of your pants.
“I just…need a second, this is a lot,” you choke out. Eyes watering, chest tight. Your hands are shaking at your sides.
Heeseung steps forward, holding you, burying his face in your scent as his arms wrap around your waist. He just holds you tight until you’re ready.
Heeseung's fingers are gentle as they clean your skin. You hold your shirt out of the way. The smell of sterile alcohol fills your senses.
You close your eyes when Heeseung picks up the needle.
“Deep breath…” he mumbles as he lines up the shot with your skin. You wince at the cold, sharp pain.
It’s quick, before you know it, Heeseung presses a clean cotton ball over the injection sight. His lips are dragging across your stomach.
“You did so good…baby, I’ve got you..” he whispers, lips dragging just under your navel before he stands back up to meet your gaze.
“No matter what happens, I’ve got you.”
You know.
You’ve got a lot of shots ahead of you.
— ✧ —
Over the weeks, you fall into a new rhythm. Constantly applying for jobs, constantly checking your hormone levels.
Your days become a routine of making Callum lunch before sending him off to school, job applications, networking, and phone calls.
All to deal with the shots at night.
Your body is aching and bruised. The hormones are making you emotional, and your body is not quite feeling like your own.
Heeseung's routine hasn’t changed one bit.
And it makes your blood boil.
The two of you sit on opposite sides of the couch. Heeseung mindlessly flips through the channels. Your fingertips skim your inbox full of information from the fertility center and countless rejection emails from companies.
You feel your heart sink.
“Come on, we need to do your shot, we can’t be late.” Heeseung mumbles as he stands up from the couch to prep the materials.
You let out a loud sigh. You don’t know if it’s the hormones or what, but you can’t stand the way he’s treating you.
Always so positive, calculated. Not a sliver of doubt or frustration.
It always feels like you're falling apart. And he’s easily holding everything together.
“Come on, we need to take your shot...like now—” Heeseung states again as he looks over the kitchen counter to see you still slumped into the cushions of the couch.
His voice is monotone, flat, like he’s checking off another box at work.
“I know what time I need to take the fucking shot, Heeseung. We’ve been doing this for goddamn weeks now—“ you curse as you pull yourself into the kitchen. Bare feet dragging against the cold tile as you look into his tired eyes.
“Whatever you say.” Heeseung replies as he reaches for your waist.
You immediately jump back.
“How can you act like everything is okay? How can you just flip through channels like this doesn’t completely suck for us?” You snap. Heeseung clenches his jaw. Shoulders tightening.
“You wanted to do this, and I’m trying to help you.” He says. Again, monotone, flat, corporate.
“It’s not fair that you get to sit at that fucking desk all day while I’m at home. Alone…just waiting for something to click. I’ve done all I can do! I’ve called back all these companies, and I’ve sent my resume to who knows how many. I stab myself with needles every night, and yet I have to wake up at the crack of ass dawn to get Callum on the bus while you…”
You swallow a lump in your throat. Tears are burning in the corners of your eyes.
“While you send emails all day without a care in the world.”
“Why are you acting like all this is fine?” you whisper as tears fall silently down your cheeks.
Heeseung slams the syringe down onto the counter, making you jump. The sound echoed off the kitchen tile.
“Someone in this house has to stay calm! You think this doesn’t hurt me, too? You think I don’t hear you throwing up in the middle of the night because of all these hormones? You think I don’t notice the bruises on your body?” Heeseung says, raising his voice even more.
“You want me to be honest? I’m terrified! Do you know how much time and money we’ve spent that we can’t get back? You don’t have a job, and those bills from the clinic are gonna pile up whether we have a baby or not!” Heeseung snaps.
The silence between the two of you is brutal.
You open your mouth, trying to find your voice.
“I…I feel like I’m failing you every day. I feel like I’m failing myself.” You sob, chest aching as you try to hold yourself together.
Heeseung softens. Your tears broke him. He steps toward you. Loosely wrapping his arms around your body.
You sob into his shoulder. It’s loud, wrecked, and messy. And he just holds you. Tears falling—running down his own cheeks as your sobs cut through his heart.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…I was just trying to hold it together for you. I didn’t realize I was making things worse.” he whispers, gently stroking his hands across your back.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been myself lately with the shots and Cal—“
“You don’t have to explain.” He whispers before gently kissing the top of your head. Rubbing your back in small circles patiently until the crying stops.
He turns to grab the shot. You pull up your shirt like every other time before.
“I’m sorry for cussing at you…I shouldn’t…have blown up like that.” You confess. Voice still shaky and weak.
“It’s okay…I know this is hard on you, my love,” he caresses as he administers the shot. Kissing your stomach like every other time before.
He helps you pull down your shirt as he stands there in the dim light of the kitchen. Glancing into your eyes.
“Can we not do this tonight…” You say softly, voice broken as you push his hand away. You're not in the mood to feed his bedroom fantasies after the day you’ve had.
“That’s not what I want…that’s not what this is about,” Heeseung calls out as he follows you into the bedroom, swiftly turning off the TV and lights on the way.
You climb into the covers. Tension still charged, tears still staining your face. You curl up on the side of the bed, lying with your back facing him.
You hear Heeseung sigh as he climbs into the covers on the other side. The mattress is dipping under the weight. You keep your eyes locked on the closet door ahead.
Then you feel it. His hand gently brushes across your arm, asking for permission.
You sigh. His body shifts closer to yours. His lips brush the skin of your neck right under your ear.
“I’m sorry…” he whispers. So soft you can barely hear it over the sound of your own breathing.
“You don’t have to apologize anymore…I’m sorry too.” You whisper, turning on your back to look into his tired eyes.
He kisses you slowly, weakly. Like, he doesn’t want to cross a line tonight.
The covers fall as you shift a little, giving him room.
His hands slide down your thighs softly asking for permission, like muscle memory of so many nights before.
You gently part your thighs, letting out a sharp sigh as he pulls down your shorts.
You’re not even wet. How could you be after everything?
“You don’t have to do anything…” Heeseung whispers as he kisses the inside of your thighs. Loosely pulling your underwear to the side.
You can’t remember the last time you shaved, and your underwear is the plainest, boring cotton pair that you have.
Heeseung doesn’t care.
He gently kisses your clit, knowing your body better than yourself as he lightly flicks at the swollen nub.
You don’t arch your back, you don’t moan and whimper his name.
You just exhale, the tension from all the weeks releasing from your body. And you can't even conjure up a thank you.
Heeseung doesn’t wait for a response.
He drags a slow, languid lick through your folds. Like he just wants to be close to you in the most intimate way.
His fingertips loosen their grip on your thighs, your back flat on the mattress, your entrance barely starting to drip.
Heesung circles your clit gently. His not trying to turn you on, or force a reaction, or make you scream his name.
He just wants to give you something, anything back.
Anything to tell you He’s still here, even through all this.
You let out a soft whimper, hips twitching as he flicks your clit with a satisfying rhythm.
There’s no “good girl,” there’s no cursing.
He just lets his tongue dig into your slick entrance before dragging it back through your center.
You let your eyes flutter shut. Arms rested weakly over your stomach as his mouth worked on you slowly. Uncoordinated rhythms not designed to make you come.
You feel yourself falling. The familiar tingle in your stomach, the pleasured pulse between your thighs.
You sigh, opening up your thighs more shamelessly as all the tension releases from your body.
Heesung hums against your warmth like he can read your body like an open book.
He lets his tongue drag through every crevice, every lip, and fold. Dragging the taste of you through your folds to pool at your clit.
The feeling makes you gasp weakly. That familiar warmth is building in your core slowly, softly.
You feel like you don’t have to perform, like you don’t have to hold it all together perfectly.
You melt into the sheets. Heeseung steadies his pace. Rubbing his tongue against your clit with more pressure, only to pull away and whisper.
“I love you...”
And he doesn’t expect to hear it back. Not right now anyways.
The rhythm of his hard tongue against you draws you close to release. A release that’s been building up for weeks and weeks.
You let out a shaky breath, falling apart without warning.
Heeseung works you through your orgasm. Your hips slightly lifting, a few whimpers escape from your lips.
You drip as your legs tremble. From head the toe, all the tension in your body releases.
Heeseung licks you through the soft wave. Whispering praises so quietly you can barely even register.
He reluctantly pulls away, only to lean back in and kiss the bruises above your hip. Before sliding out from under you.
He pulls you close in the mess, arms wrapping around your stomach. He doesn’t expect a thank you. And he doesn’t ask for more.
He just holds you and doesn’t say a word.
And for the first time in weeks. You sleep completely through the night.
— ✧ —
The next morning, you wake to the sun gently peeking through the blinds. The soft warmth causes you to stir awake. Heeseung is still holding you close, shorts still tossed somewhere on the bedroom floor.
He lets out a soft hum, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, tighter.
“You didn’t get up last night.” Heeseung mumbles into the back of your neck, his lips lazily dragging across the warm skin.
“Yeah, I slept well, I didn't feel sick either.” You reply gently, sitting up to stretch, your body feeling as close as it can be to feeling refreshed.
“Hey…just rest, I'll take care of Cal.” Heeseung whispers before kissing you one more time.
You relax into the pillows, knowing that you still have a long day of applications and another appointment to run labs at the clinic.
Heeseung swings his legs over the side of the bed, glancing at your tired figure one last time before disappearing down the dark hall towards Callum's room.
You grab your phone off the bedside table and open up your emails out of habit. Something does catch your eye.
A job interview invitation.
You feel like half the weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You swiftly reply, setting up a date and time before letting yourself just breathe…
At least this is one step in the right direction.
— ✧ —
You sit in the lobby of another clean, sterile office building. Resume in hand, heels nervously tapping against the floor.
The nerves are starting to get to you. Your head is racing with thoughts as you review interview questions, your fingers trembling as you simultaneously wait for the clinic to send you the news.
It's been a long process of tests and shots, tears and sobs.
Now you wait. It's all you can do.
“Mrs. Lee?” An older man calls out, stepping through the door with a laptop open on his hip.
You stand up, straightening your posture and smoothing out the wrinkles of your pantsuit as you follow him back into the office. He motions for you to take a seat.
“I see here you’ve applied for the role of creative director? I see you have a bachelor's…” He replies as the screen of his laptop reflects off his glasses as he thoroughly scans your application.
“Yes, I graduated from university in the state. I did an internship during my senior year, and I’ve been in the industry professionally for around 3 years now.” You reply with confidence.
“And why did you leave your last company?” He asks, stale and calculated.
You hesitate, heart racing, your palms sweating in your lap.
“I got married…just life changes.” You nod.
“I see.” The interviewer replies.
The interview goes on, you explain your experience, heart racing as you talk yourself up the best that you can. You talk about expectations, salary.
The second you step out of the building, it feels like you can finally breathe.
The drive home is quietly charged. Now that the interview is done, this could change everything. It's a waiting game now.
There's nothing you can do besides wait for the clinic to reach out with results and wait to see if you make it to the second round of interviews.
— ✧ —
You do exactly what the clinic told you not to do.
They told you to stay off social media, to trust the process.
But you trust your body more than anything.
You feel your chest twist. No cramps, no nausea, no tenderness. It’s been a long ten days, and you can’t lie to yourself anymore. You can’t try to tell yourself you feel something different when you don't.
Your fingertips tremble as you rip open the package of a pregnancy test. They told you just to be patient, to wait for a call from the clinic.
But you already know what they're going to tell you.
You take the test anyway, hoping that after all this time, there will be two pink lines.
Your fingertips brush against the cold countertop as you lay the test facedown, counting down the seconds.
Your eyes scan the clock hits 3:15, you flip over the test.
You knew it.
One single pink line.
Not pregnant.
You sink to the cold, dirty floor, trying to hold back tears. All that time, all that money.
All for a single pink line.
You sobbed, you knew the chances were slim, yet you let yourself hope. Hope that maybe this could be your one shot at a miracle.
Your heart aches; you were hoping, praying for a chance to create something beautiful with the man you love.
There's no one around to hear you. You don’t want comfort, you just want to let it all out.
You fall to the bathroom floor, tears straining down your cheeks, chest aching, lungs being pulled down by the weight.
You hug yourself tight, it's all you can do. You don’t reach for your phone, you don't call Heeseung.
He can only tell you “it’s okay” so many times before you break.
And now, after all these years, you’re breaking for real.
You hold your empty stomach, crying, pleading, praying to whatever God is out there.
Why you?
All this science, all these procedures, and it wasn’t enough.
“Mommy?” You hear a soft, shaky voice call out from the hall.
You choke on a sob, you didn’t even realize Callum had gotten off the bus. You can’t stand up, you can’t pretend everything is okay.
Because it isn’t. And you don’t have it in you anymore to keep lying.
“Mommy, why are you crying?” Callum asks softly as you hear his footsteps echo down the hall. He turns the corner to find you on the bathroom floor, tearstained and broken.
He drops to his knees, his brows furrowed with confusion. You don’t look hurt, but here you are lying in so much unexplainable pain.
“Are you hurt, mommy?” Callum asks as he crawls on the floor, sinking down and wrapping his little arms around you.
“Yeah, Cal, even Mommies hurt sometimes,” you whisper, wiping your own tears from his soft comfort. You shift, lying with your back against the sink, the negative test still resting on the counter.
Callum snuggles warmly into your lap. His presence is quiet as you playfully rake your fingertips through his dark hair. Quiet sobs still slipping past your lips.
There's a silent pause before he whispers, his voice shaky, his little self still not understanding fully what's going on.
“Is it because the baby didn't come?” He whispers.
You swear you felt your heart shatter at his words. Everything comes crashing down.
“Yeah, Cal…your dad and I have been trying to bring you a sibling. I just hate watching you play alone, Cal…I wish I could—” You sob as you pull Callum closer, rocking softly like that would take away some of the ache.
“It’s okay, I still love you, mommy, I'm so glad you’re my mommy now...” Callum sniffles, the emotions getting to him, too. He's been through just as much as you in his five little years.
“You make daddy smile, he never used to smile, he was always sad or mad before you lived with us,” Callum confesses. Your heart splits even more as you cry, holding his soft little hands in your own.
“I love your dad… so much, Cal…” You whisper, and that's when you hear the sound of keys fidgeting at the door. You hear the sound of footsteps sharply enter through the front door.
“I'm home!” Heeseung calls out. You hear him drop his things in the kitchen before the sound of his footsteps follows him down the hall.
The minute he turns the corner, you're hit with pure silence. He glances at the two of you, tearstained, aching, the negative test on the counter.
He feels his stomach drop, his heart aching in his chest as he barely holds his voice together.
Heeseung drops to his knees, his work slacks hitting the cold, dirty tile. He doesn’t ask what happened, he can’t find any words are caught in his chest as he chokes back tears at the sight.
“Come here…” He whispers, his voice cracking as he struggles to hold everything together.
He pulls both of you into his arms as you sob, it's messy, loud, painful, so painful.
Heesueng shakes as he pulls you and Callum closer. Your tears falling onto Heeseung, his tears falling onto Callum.
Your fingertips fist into the fabric of his blazer, the sterile smell of the office following him home. You bury your face into his shoulder as he pulls you tight, gently kissing the side of your head. He knows words will only make things worse.
Heeseung just holds the two of you like a lifeline, like your everything, because that's the truth.
You are his everything. You are a second chance at everything he thought he lost.
“I’m so sorry, I'm so sorry…” You gasp through tears. You ache for the baby that never came home, for Callum having to see his parents at their worst.
“It’s okay to cry mommy, I wanted the baby too.” Callum sniffles.
Heeseung breaks as he pulls you into him more. The sound of tears echoes off the walls.
“Me too, I wanted her so badly…” Heeseung cries, his blazer stained with the pained streams of the three of you.
Eventually, the crying comes to a stop. Heeseung shifts beneath you, gently grabbing tissues from the bathroom counter to wipe Callum's soft face before helping you do the same.
“Are you hungry, Cal?” Heesueng asks as he picks him up off the floor, giving you another moment to cry some more, pull yourself together, or anything you need.
“Yeah..” Callum whispers as Heeseung takes him down the hall, you hear the sound of pots and pans in the kitchen, but you don’t care to join them.
“Is Mommy gonna be okay?” Callum whispers just barely out of earshot.
“It’s hard for her, but she’ll be okay. She's a strong mommy, the strongest mommy I know.” Heeseung reassures as he finishes cooking.
You don’t even have to ask; he takes care of everything, tucking Callum into bed, finishing all the dishes left in the sink from all the days you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
You hear a soft knock at the bedroom door. By now, you’ve cried through all your tears, your body feeling limp.
“Hey…” Heeseung whispers as he pushes the door open to find you sitting on the edge of the bed, head in your hands.
“Here…you need to drink some water, there's pasta in the kitchen if you’re hungry.” He says softly, fingertips brushing against your own as he hands you the glass. You give him a weak smile before you thank him and lift the glass to your lips.
“Im not hungry…” You whisper as he kneels down by the edge of the bed, and he rests his head weakly in your lap, his own eyes puffy and red from the tears.
“If you’re not going to eat, will you at least let me run you a bath? Baby, can’t I just leave you like this…” Heeseung confesses, a shaky breath falling from his lips as he aches for an answer.
You just nod, still too struck to even conjure up words in your throat. Heesung’s hands slide to your wrist. He stands up, gently guiding you into the dimly lit bathroom.
He sets you down gently on the edge of the cold tub. He turns on the water, making sure it's the perfect temperature before adding your favorite eucalyptus bath soak.
The bathroom is dark, only illuminated by a small lamp in the corner of the room. The smell of eucalyptus fills the air, the scent comforting you as it fills your senses.
His fingers are gentle as he pulls at the hem of your shirt. You let him pull the fabric up and over your head before he tosses it gently to the door.
You can smell the remnants of his cologne as he reaches around your body to unclasp your bra. Your heart rate starts to slow…that familiar woody, warm, masculine scent.
He pushes the straps down as he tosses the garment to the floor. He hooks his arms around your own, helping you to stand.
He gently pushes the rest of your clothes down, helping you step into the warm bath.
The warmth envelops your muscles, and you can’t help but let out a deep sigh.
Heeseung strips himself down, simply, casually, quickly folding his clothes and placing them next to yours.
The water laps at your waist as Heeseung steps behind you, parting his legs so you can rest between them. The water is bubbling around you as you lie against his chest.
Heeseung gently pushes your hair out of the way, gently kissing the back of your neck. You can’t help but sigh, the water lapping around your body as you lean into him even more. His hands find your bare waist, gently holding the softness under the water.
“I still love you…all the parts of you.” Heeseung whispers as he kisses your neck again. You tilt your head to the side, giving him better access to your damp skin. The water ripples around you as he pulls you further into his body.
“I love you, too. Thank you for being there during all of this.” You whisper back, voice still shaky but slightly regaining it’s strength.
“At least we tried…” You whisper weakly, your heart torn, but Heeseung's arms around you slowly start to heal the wound.
“You’re so brave for trying. I know our odds weren’t great, but I’m glad we tried, too.” Heeseung whispers as you tilt your head back. Your eyes lock with his, both swollen and puffy from the tears.
He leans in and kisses you, slowly, softly, like he wants to show you how much he loves you without breaking you.
You pull away, gasping for air, only to shift to face him, your thighs loosely resting on either side of his, his hands tangling in your wet hair, a his lips find yours again.
It's desperate, like you're both aching to have something to hold onto, to heal.
The water splashes as your hips rock against his own. Heeseung gasps, gently rubbing small circles over your damp hips. His swollen lips break apart from yours only to drag down your jawline.
“Let me love you like this…please..” Heeseung gasps.
You whimper, his hand already dunking under the warm water to slip between your folds. Your head drops to his shoulder, sweat already running down your back as he strokes you slowly, intimately.
You don’t fight back, you let him touch you. Let him help put your broken pieces back together.
“God, you’re still so beautiful, even after everything…” He whispers as his fingertips gently graze your entrance. You gasp, sensitive still as he pushes in just an inch, gently warming you up for more.
Your eyes roll back as he pushes in his fingers another inch, feeling you clench around him. He slips another finger inside, causing you to moan as you feel the aching stretch.
“Missed you like this, keep making those sounds for me.” Heeseung praises, his hot mouth dragging down your chest to the top of your breasts.
You gasp as Heeseung's lips pull away, your body feeling cold at the lack of contact. His fingertips still, gently pulling out of you to rest at your hips.
He looks into your eyes, his expression pained yet full of love. He just glances at you, at your tear-stained face, damp hair, and puffy eyes.
And he still sees that secretary he fell in love with a long time ago.
He still sees that woman who stepped in when he was at his lowest, who pulled him out of hell without even having to try.
He sucks in a breath, smiling, smiling after all the pain and tears.
His heart swells as he looks at you, completely wrecked, completely his.
And he wouldn't trade it for anything in the entire world.
“I love you, so fucking much…”
The words hit you hard. He’s said it one thousand times before, but this time there's no ache, no tears.
Just hope.
You’ve already made it this far, life has already given you everything and taken just as much.
Second chances aren't about scrapping everything and starting over.
Sometimes it's about realizing you have more than enough right in front of you.
That you don’t need a fancy job or a perfect family.
That's when it hits you, naked, broken in that bathtub.
No matter what this life throws at you, you are more than enough.
Heeseung knows it, Callum knows it.
And for the first time in a long time.
You know it for yourself.
Your worth isn't tied to your body, the paycheck in your pocket, or the ring on your finger.
Because you could lose it all, and still know the truth.
You’ve always been more than enough.
Always have been.
And always will be.
— ✧ —
Five months later:
It’s been six weeks.
At first, you thought nothing of it, your bra fitting extra tight, your head extra heavy, it all had to have been a coincidence.
Early one Saturday morning, you take a test. Same bathroom, same tile like so many times before.
You wait, just watching as the test processes, no anxiety, no fear. You’ve taken God knows how many tests, but this time—instead of a spike of dread, you feel calm.
You feel that confirmation deep inside before the screen even flashes the result; you don't even need to look. Your heart already knows the result.
*pregnant*
Your hands don’t tremble, you don’t even cry. The tears don’t fall, they can’t.
Because you know deep down, no matter what, you’re healed.
You look at the blue and white test between your fingertips. No tears, just a soft smile, that's all you can do.
Heeseung yawns as he lazily comes down the hall. You hear his footsteps, swiftly throwing the test away before he can see it.
You close the bathroom door, meeting him in the hall with a half smile.
He pulls you by the arm into a soft embrace, his dark hair messy as he drops his head to your shoulder.
“Morning…” You say with a soft chuckle, your arms wrapping loosely around his shoulders as he breathes you in.
“Morning, baby…” He replies, gently kissing the side of your neck, his hands sliding down to your stomach, you try not to flinch.
“You feel different…” Heeseung mumbles into the crook of your neck, lazily dragging his lips across your skin like so many times before.
“I mean I kind of do…” You mumble out, it's the truth.
Heeseung chuckles as he slides his hands down your sides to the back of your thighs. He bends down swiftly, lifting you up and pinning your back against the wall.
“Heeseung!” you gasp, choking as your back hits the cold, hard hallway wall.
Heeseung leans in, laughing softly as he tightens his grip on your thighs. He kisses you, deep and hard, not the kind of kisses you get on a random Saturday morning in the middle of a dark hallway.
You break apart, gasping, his forehead resting on yours.
“Are you pregnant?” Heeseung whispers.
You almost choke on your own breath, the words causing your stomach to flip. You gently tighten your grip on his shoulders.
“I—I…” You stumble out, the word getting caught in your chest.
“I knew it… How far along are you?” Heeseung whispers as he kisses you again, the best he can between his massive grin.
“It's still really early, maybe six or seven weeks?” You gasp, your hands tangling in his hair as you kiss him back.
“I fucking knew it—” He nearly moans as his lips crash into yours. A mess of soft gasps and shaky breaths.
“You’ve been so sensitive lately, practically glowing I knew something was up.” Heeseung whispers as he pulls away with a cocky smirk.
“I knew I wasn’t crazy…I thought my dick was playing tricks on me.” Heeseung moans as his lips latch onto the skin of your neck, his hands gripping you harder.
Your heart rate shoots up as his lips find your skin, you playfully try to shoo him away, but it’s no use.
“What the hell are you talking about?” You chuckle.
“Sex has been warmer, deeper, better…not that it was bad before, that's not what I mean..” Heeseung confesses as he sets you down gently, letting his hands slide underneath your shirt to gently brush against your stomach.
“I knew my beautiful wife was carrying something special.” He whispers before gently wrapping his lips around yours again.
“You’re insane…”
“You love me,” Heeseung says playfully as he picks you up again, swinging you over his shoulders.
You playfully try to fight your way out of it, the sound of laughter echoing down the hall.
Heeseung kicks the door open with his feet before letting it close with a soft thud.
“It's eight in the morning—” You gasp as he climbs on top of you, playfully fighting you as your laughter echoes off the walls.
“Exactly, we better hurry before Cal wakes up—” Heeseung replies as he pins your wrists over your head onto the mattress.
“God, it isn’t even fair, you're glowing already.” He whispers before swiftly hooking his fingertips in the edge of your pants to pull them down along with everything else.
“Dick doesn’t lie, baby..”
The two of you have been smiling fools all day, and Callum's not an idiot; he definitely notices.
You and Heeseung sit curled up on the couch, his hand gently rubbing your stomach as you mindlessly watch the TV. Callum is coloring on the floor in front of you.
“You guys are acting weird…” He mumbles, kicking his feet as he sorts through the colored pens and pencils spread across the floor.
“What do you mean Cal?” You ask softly, brows furrowing as you tear your gaze away from the TV to watch his little hands grip the markers as he drags them across the plain white paper.
“Mommy, are you having a baby?” He says casually without even looking up from the page.
You and Heeseung nearly jump off the couch, eyes wide as you stare down at him.
“What!”
“How did you—”
“We haven't told—”
“You've been rubbing mommy's tummy all day, that's where the baby is,” Callum says casually.
Heesueng laughs with his chest, his hand roughly dragging through his dark hair.
“God, he's starting to sound like you.” He mumbles under his breath.
“Hey!” You snap, playfully slapping his arms, and he falls back, blocking your attacks with a loud laugh.
“Hey hey! careful there's a baby in there…” Heesueng says as he continues to block your playful attacks.
“I finished!” Callum shouts as he lifts the drawing from the floor, crawling to the edge of the couch to show you.
It's another stick family, drawn with steadier lines. A little boy with dark hair, a tall man with the same, a woman who looks a lot like you—
And a little girl right by your side.
All you can do is smile.
You glance down at the drawing, smudged colors and crooked lines. It's imperfect, it’s real.
Quiet laughter and soft smiles fill the room. And that's when it hits you.
You all survived the loss, the heartache.
But you embraced the second chance, you embraced love.
kate's note: Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope this part two lived up to your expectations and broke you in the best way! THANK YOU GUYS FOR SUGGESTING THIS!!! I'm so happy I got to dive deeper and explore more of the story of this family. I'm so weak and in love with this fic, it's literally my baby.
To all my followers, you really mean the world to me. Writing has helped me in ways you guys don't even know.
written for the heart’s mailroom event ! ༊
✷ lee heeseung's been too busy preparing for his comeback to notice how neglected you feel, so with jungwon’s help, you decide to make your boyfriend just a little jealous to remind him what he’s been missing !
🗯️ 内容 explicit sexual content ♫ 18+ ⸝⸝ intended for mature audiences | minors do not interact ᯓ established relationship, angst with happy ending, jealousy trope, emotional neglect, possessive behavior, heavy emotional reconciliation, comfort after conflict, petnames, dirty talk, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, protected p in v, multiple orgasms !
⟶ featuring ⋮ jungwon (enhypen)
EL’S ✷ BUBBLE : YO THIS IS ACTUALLY SOOOOO SO ASS I'M SORRY i've actually had this rotting in my google docs for a few days & i was hesitant on uploading because i wanted to fix it (spoiler alert: i couldn't and so i didn't) but here we are . . . requested, thank you so muchi! (anon if you're reading this i swear when my requests open back come back asap i'll make a better fic) ╯︿╰ mweheheh lovelots guys
The plan wasn't even yours, technically. It was Jungwon's.
"You're telling me he hasn't called you in five days?" Jungwon had said over the phone, his voice laced with the kind of righteous indignation only a best friend could muster. "Not even a goodnight text?"
"He's been busy with preparations," you'd said, and you hated how small your voice sounded. How practiced the excuse was. "The comeback is kind of—"
"Man, I love Heeseung-hyung, I do, but he's been 'busy' for three weeks straight."
A pause.
Then, carefully: "What if we give him a little push?"
You should've said no. You should've been the bigger person, waited it out, trusted that Heeseung would come back to you the way he always did, apologetic and warm and yours.
But three weeks of falling asleep to a cold, empty side of the bed will make anyone a little petty.
So here you are.
It started with a text. Simple, casual, deliberately breezy.
You: babyy i’m going shopping with wonnie today ☺️ i need new clothes for the season
You watched the typing bubble appear. Disappear. Appear again. Then—
Heeseung: ok have fun
Two words. No question about where. No ask to join. No I miss you, can I come?
You almost caved right there.
Almost called him and said please, just come with us, I just want to see you. But Jungwon's voice echoed in your head — he needs to realize what he's taking for granted — and you locked your phone and went to meet your best friend.
Jungwon was already waiting outside the department store, hands shoved in the pockets of his oversized jacket, that easy cat-like smile spreading across his face when he saw you. He pulled you into a hug immediately, warm, familiar, the kind of hug best friends share without thinking.
"Operation Make-Heeseung-Jealous is a go?" he murmured against your hair.
"Operation Make-Heeseung-Jealous is a go," you confirmed, and he laughed, pulling back to ruffle your hair.
"Let's make him suffer."
The shopping was genuine. You did need new clothes, and Jungwon had impeccable taste, steering you toward things you'd never pick yourself — soft knits in cream and slate, a slip dress in deep burgundy that made him whistle low under his breath.
"That one. Heeseung will lose his mind."
"That's the point."
What made it work was that Jungwon was naturally clingy. He linked arms with you while walking between stores. He rested his chin on your shoulder while you examined price tags. He tugged at the hem of your shirt when he wanted your attention, your name slipping out softly before he caught himself, and you'd laugh and swat at him and he'd grin, unrepentant.
None of it was new. None of it was unusual.
But none of it had ever been done in front of Heeseung before.
Because Heeseung was there.
You'd given him permission, of course. When he'd texted back that one-word reply, you'd pushed: you can come watch if you want thoo baby, see that wonnie and i are just friends.
He'd said fine, and you'd sent him the address, and now—
Now you could feel him. Not see him, not yet, but feel him. That particular prickle at the back of your neck, that subtle shift in the air that meant Lee Heeseung had entered your orbit.
You didn't turn around. Neither did Jungwon. But his hand found the small of your back, guiding you toward the café down the street, and you let him.
The café was warm and golden, exposed brick, mismatched furniture, fresh pastries. There was a sofa section near the window, roomy, cushioned, space for three.
You looked at it. Then looked at the small two-seater table near the corner.
"The table," you said.
Jungwon raised an eyebrow. "There's literally a sofa right there."
"More room for bags." You were already walking toward it.
He stared at you for a long beat. Then something knowing flickered in his eyes, and he followed without another word.
The table was small. Intimate. Your knees bumped under it, and when the waitress came, Jungwon leaned in close to look at the menu, his shoulder pressing warm against yours.
From outside, through the café's wide front window, you could see him.
Heeseung. Sitting on a bench across the street, a cup of convenience store ramen balanced on his knee, chopsticks moving mechanically from cup to mouth. His jacket was too thin for the weather. His hair was messy, like he'd rushed out without fixing it. He was staring at the café, at you, at the way Jungwon was leaning into your space, talking close, smiling that soft smile he reserved for people he actually liked.
And Heeseung's jaw was so tight you could see the muscle jumping even from here.
You looked away. Took a sip of your iced tea. Let Jungwon steal a bite of your cake and pretend-scold him for it, swatting his hand away with a laugh that was only half-performative.
This was the thing about Jungwon, he made it easy. Easy to laugh, easy to lean into his touches, easy to forget that the whole point of this afternoon was the man across the street eating ramen and watching his girlfriend smile at someone else.
But you didn't forget. You couldn't. Not when you could feel Heeseung's gaze like a physical thing, heavy, hot, and increasingly frayed at the edges.
A week earlier, the apartment was dark when you had gotten home. Not unusual lately. Heeseung's shoes were by the door, his practice bag dumped haphazardly on the floor, a half-empty water bottle on the counter. Signs of life, but barely.
You found him in the bedroom, sprawled face-down on the bed, still in his practice clothes. His breathing was slow and even, not quite asleep, but close. The kind of exhaustion that settled into the bones.
You sat on the edge of the bed and ran your fingers through his hair. He stirred, just barely.
"Hey. When did you get home?"
"Mm. An hour ago." His voice was muffled by the pillow. "Sorry. Meant to wait up."
"It's okay. How was practice?"
"Long." He turned his head just enough to look at you, one dark eye blinking up blearily. "I keep messing up the bridge section. Made me run it like thirty times."
"You'll get it. You always do."
He hummed, eyes already fluttering shut. His hand found yours blindly, squeezed once, then went slack.
You sat there holding the hand of a man who was too tired to hold you back.
That was the thing. It wasn't that Heeseung didn't love you. You knew he did, knew it in the way he reached for you in his sleep, in the way his eyes found you across any room like you were the only fixed point in a spinning world.
But knowing didn't make the quiet hurt less. Didn't make three weeks of being second priority feel like anything other than what it was.
You pulled the blanket over him and went to sleep on the couch.
Three days later, you called him during his lunch break, something you never did. He didn't pick up. Called again an hour later. Voicemail.
By the time he finally called back, nearly midnight, you were already in bed, already hollowed out.
"Hey, sorry, my phone was on silent—"
"It's fine. Go to sleep, Heeseung. You sound tired."
A pause. "…Are you mad?"
"No. I'm just tired too." You swallowed. "I haven't seen you in two weeks. I haven't talked to you in longer. And I know you're busy, I know, but—"
"I know," he said, voice thick with something like guilt. "Just—one more week, okay? The showcase is Saturday and then I'll have time. I promise."
One more week. You'd heard that promise before a dozen times.
"One more week," you repeated.
"One more week," he confirmed.
You hung up and stared at the ceiling for a very long time.
It was the next morning that you called Jungwon.
By the time you and Jungwon left the café, the sun was already low, painting the street in shades of amber and rose. Jungwon carried most of your bags, gentleman that he was, and walked close enough that your shoulders brushed with every step.
Heeseung was no longer on the bench.
You felt a sharp pang of — something. Disappointment? Relief? The game had gone on long enough, and some part of you had been waiting for him to snap, to cross the street, to walk in and say mine the way he used to in the early days when jealousy was still something he wore openly.
But he'd just sat there. Eating his ramen. Watching. Silent.
Jungwon must've sensed the shift in your mood, because he glanced down at you and said, gently, "Hey. You okay?"
"Yeah," you said. "Just—"
A hand closed around your wrist.
Not rough. Not aggressive. But firm. Unmistakable. The kind of grip that left no room for argument, no space for questioning who this hand belonged to, because your body recognized it before your mind did, recognized the long fingers, the familiar press of a silver ring, the warmth that was entirely, unmistakably Heeseung.
"We're leaving," he said. His voice was low. Controlled. The kind of quiet that was louder than shouting.
Jungwon stopped. Looked at Heeseung. Then at you. Then back at Heeseung, and something passed between the two men, some wordless exchange you couldn't quite parse, before Jungwon's mouth curved in a barely-there smile.
"I'll drop the bags at your place later, Y/N," he said. And then, softer, just for Heeseung: "Take care of her, hyung."
Heeseung didn't respond.
His hand slid from your wrist to your waist, and he steered you, walked you, fast and silent and unrelenting, down the street, around the corner, into the parking garage where his car was waiting.
The drive home was silent.
He didn't turn on the radio. Didn't look at you. His hands gripped the steering wheel at ten and two, knuckles pale, jaw set so hard it looked painful. The only sound was the engine and the quiet, measured rhythm of his breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth, like he was counting each exhale to keep himself steady.
You watched his profile in the dashboard light. The sharp line of his nose. The tension in his brow. The way his throat moved when he swallowed, like he was physically holding words behind his teeth.
You should've apologized. Should've explained. Should've told him it was a setup, a scheme, a stupid, desperate attempt to make him see you again.
Instead, you said nothing.
Because some part of you, the part that had spent three weeks being ignored, wanted him to break first. Wanted him to be the one to reach. Wanted to know, with absolute certainty, that he still wanted to.
The apartment door barely closed behind you before Heeseung turned around.
He looked wrecked.
Not angry, though there was anger there, banked low and smoldering behind his dark eyes, but wrecked. Like something had been pulled taut inside him for hours and was finally, finally about to snap.
"Three weeks," he said. His voice was quiet. Almost steady. "Three weeks I barely looked at you. Three weeks of—of running on no sleep and barely eating and missing you so much it felt like my chest was caving in, and you—"
He stopped. Pressed his lips together. Looked at the ceiling.
"You sat at a table for two," he said. "You let him touch you. You laughed for him. And I was sitting across the street eating some cheap ass cup ramen, watching my girlfriend act like I didn't exist, and I couldn't—I couldn't even—like—"
His voice cracked. Just barely. Just enough.
"Baby," you whispered.
"Don't." He pointed at you, finger trembling. "Don't call me baby right now, I'm so—I'm so fucking—"
He stopped again. Exhaled hard. His hand dropped to his side.
"You were punishing me," he said. It wasn't a question.
You held his gaze. "Of course I was."
A sharp breath. "Because I was busy."
"Because you made me feel like I didn't matter, silly."
Silence.
Heavy, thick, and suffocating, and for one terrible second you thought he was going to walk away—thought you'd pushed too far, played the game too hard, broken something that couldn't be glued back together.
Then Heeseung moved.
He closed the distance between you in two strides, hands finding your face, tilting your head back, and his mouth was on yours, hungry and desperate and aching, the kiss of a man who had been starving for months and was finally, finally allowed to eat.
"You matter," he said against your lips. "You matter, you matter, you matter so much—"
His hands were everywhere. Sliding from your face to your neck, your shoulders, down your arms, pulling you against him like he was trying to press you into his skin.
You could feel his heartbeat, fast, erratic, and racing, or maybe that was yours, you couldn't tell anymore, couldn't tell where you ended and he began, not when he was kissing you like this, not when he was constantly whispering I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry between breaths like a prayer.
"Bedroom," you managed.
"Bedroom," he agreed.
He laid you down like you were something precious. Which was almost funny, given the way he'd looked at you in the café, like he wanted to take you apart piece by piece, but here, now, in the dim light of your shared bedroom, his hands were gentle as they slipped off your clothes. Layer by layer, careful and unhurried, like he was unwrapping something he'd been afraid he'd lost.
His fingertips dragged down your sides, slow and reverent, leaving trails of heat in their wake. He paused at your hip, pressed his thumb into the soft skin there like he was checking if you were real, if you were solid, if you'd dissolve under his hands the way he probably feared you would.
"I forgot," he murmured, pressing his lips to your collarbone. The word vibrated against your skin, low and rough. "I forgot what you felt like."
"You see me every day," you breathed.
"Seeing isn't touching." His mouth moved lower, dragging hot and slow down the center of your chest, tongue dipping into the hollow of your sternum. "Seeing isn't this, you know."
His hands gripped your thighs, firm, possessive, spreading them open, and he settled between them like he belonged there. Like it was the only place he'd ever belonged. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another, then a third higher up, and each one sent a bolt of anticipation straight to your core.
Then his mouth—
God, his mouth.
He ate you out like a man making up for lost time. No teasing, no tentative buildup, just the flat of his tongue pressing hot and wet against you, dragging up in one long, devastating stroke that made your spine arch clean off the mattress.
A broken sound tore from your throat, half gasp, half moan, and he groaned against you in response, the vibration shooting through your core like electricity, pooling hot and liquid at the base of your spine.
"Mmm, you taste so good," he muttered, half to himself, and then he was everywhere, tongue circling your clit with a precision that made your thighs shake, lips dragging slick and obscene against your most sensitive skin, jaw working with a determination that made your head spin. He was devouring you. Taking you apart with his mouth the way he didn't have the words to do with his voice.
"Heeseung—"
"Fuck, say my name again with that pretty mouth of yours, baby." The command was muffled against you, rough and desperate.
His tongue found your clit and circled it, slow, deliberate, maddening, and you fisted the sheets with both hands because there was nothing else to hold onto, nothing else to ground you, not when he was licking into you like this, not when he was making those sounds between your thighs. Low. Hungry. Almost wrecked, like he was the one being undone.
He slid two fingers inside you, slow at first, just to the first knuckle, letting you feel the stretch, then deeper, curling them upward until he found that spot, and your vision went white at the edges.
"Heeseung, baby—"
"Again." He curled his fingers again, pressing, and his tongue flicked harder against your clit. "Say it again."
"Heeseung, please—"
"Please what exactly? What are you talking about?" He pulled back just far enough to look at you, to see your flushed cheeks and parted lips and the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath, and his eyes were so dark, so blown with want, that the sight of him alone almost pushed you over the edge. "Use your words and your wish is my command."
"I'm gonna—please, I'm gonna come—"
"Mmh, that’s it—come for me, baby," he said, and his mouth was back on you before you could process the words, fingers and tongue working in tandem now, relentless and precise, and the coil in your stomach wound so tight you thought you might shatter—
You did.
The orgasm hit you like a wave breaking, sudden and all-consuming, and you heard yourself moan his name, heard it crack and fracture in the quiet room, felt your walls clench around his fingers and your thighs tremble on either side of his head.
He worked you through it, mouth softening just slightly, fingers gentling but not stopping, not stopping, and the pleasure crested and crested again and didn't recede, just shifted into something sharper, brighter, and way too much.
"Heeseung—wait, I just—ah—I can't, it's too—"
"You can." He looked up at you then, lips swollen and glistening, and his eyes, blown-wide, fierce with something raw and unguarded, made your breath catch. "You can take it. You let him touch you all afternoon. You can take this."
The words landed somewhere between accusation and plea, and they sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to your core despite, or maybe because of, the guilt that flickered through you.
He didn't give you time to respond. His mouth was back on you before you could draw breath, and this time there was nothing gentle about it. He licked into you with long, broad strokes, his fingers curling and uncurling inside you, and the overstimulation built like a second tide coming in, fast and inexorable and impossible to fight.
Your hands flew to his hair. You weren't sure if you were pushing him away or pulling him closer. Your body didn't know either, bucking into his mouth one second and squirming away the next, every nerve ending firing at once until the pleasure and the ache blurred into one overwhelming, consuming sensation.
"Mine," he whispered against your oversensitive skin, and the word vibrated through you like a second pulse. "You're mine. Say it."
"I'm yours—Heeseung, I'm—oh my god—fuck—"
The second orgasm ripped through you harder than the first.
Your back bowed off the mattress, your thighs clamped around his head, and you might've screamed, couldn't tell, couldn't hear anything over the rushing in your ears and the devastating, unrelenting pressure of his mouth still on you, still working, still taking, even as you shook and whimpered and felt tears leak from the corners of your eyes because it was too much, it was too much, and he wasn't stopping—
"Heeseung—please, I can't—please—"
He pulled off with a wet sound that should've been obscene but just made you ache for him. His fingers slipped out of you slowly, and you whimpered at the loss, whimpered again when he pressed a soft, reverent kiss to your inner thigh, then another to your hip, each one impossibly gentle after what his mouth had just done.
He rose above you, and you caught a glimpse of his face, lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed, eyes wild, and then he was stripping off his shirt, reaching for the nightstand drawer with hands that shook just slightly, and the sight of his bare skin, lean and toned and so familiar, made something in your chest crack wide open.
He rolled the condom on with practiced efficiency, and then he was between your legs again, and the head of his cock pressed against your entrance and you both stilled.
"Look at me," he said.
You opened eyes you didn't remember closing. He was right there, close enough to count his eyelashes, close enough to see the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes, close enough to see the way his jaw was clenched so tight it trembled.
"I'm sorry," he said.
And then he pushed inside.
The stretch was perfect and overwhelming and exactly what you needed. He filled you slowly, inches that felt like miles, until he bottomed out and his forehead dropped to rest against yours and you could feel him shaking, actually shaking, with the effort of holding still.
"Don't move," he breathed. "Just—give me a second."
"You're the one who said look at you," you whispered back, and he let out a breath that was almost a laugh, almost, and rolled his hips, and the shift pressed him impossibly deeper and dragged a moan from both of you at the same time.
Then he started to move.
He was slow at first. Deep, measured thrusts that dragged against every nerve ending you had, his hands braced on either side of your head, his breath warm and unsteady against your lips.
Every stroke was deliberate, pulling almost all the way out, then sinking back in so slowly you could feel every inch, every ridge, every place where your bodies met and held and refused to let go. A claim. An apology. A promise all tangled together into something that made your chest ache worse than the three weeks of silence ever had.
"You feel so good," he said against the corner of your mouth. "Forgot how good you feel. Fuck."
"Then don't forget again," you managed, and his hips stuttered, just once, before he found his rhythm again.
But the slow didn't last.
Couldn't, maybe, not with the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
His pace quickened, thrusts growing harder, deeper, more urgent. The sound of skin against skin filled the room alongside your shared, ragged breathing, and the headboard started knocking against the wall in a steady rhythm that you'd be embarrassed about later but couldn't bring yourself to care about now.
"Say you're mine," he panted, hips snapping forward.
"I'm yours—"
"Say it again." Harder now. Deeper. His hands found yours and pinned them above your head, fingers lacing through yours, holding you in place.
"I'm yours, Heeseung, I'm—oh—"
He hit a spot that made you see stars, and he did it again, and again, adjusting the angle until every thrust ground against that spot and you were sobbing his name, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, deeper, more.
The pressure was building again, a third time, impossibly, and you were so oversensitive from before that every stroke was a razor's edge between pleasure and pain, and you didn't know which one you wanted more.
"Nobody else," he said, and his voice was wrecked, ragged and low and breaking at the seams. "Nobody else gets to touch you like this. Not Jungwon. Not anyone. Just me. Say it."
"Just you—only you—Heeseung—"
"That's right." He drove into you harder, faster, and you could feel him losing the last threads of his control, could feel it in the way his rhythm faltered, in the way his hands tightened around yours, in the way his breathing fractured into something desperate and uneven. "Only me. Fuck—only me—"
Your third orgasm crested without warning.
No slow build this time, just a sudden, blinding rush of sensation that crashed over you and pulled you under, and you clenched around him so hard he groaned, long and guttural, and his hips jerked forward erratically, chasing his own release.
"That's it," he said, voice cracking. "That's it, baby, one more—you feel so good, you're so good, mine—"
He followed you over the edge a moment later, burying himself deep and going rigid above you, a broken sound escaping his throat, half-moan, half-sob, and his whole body shuddered as he came, fingers squeezing yours so tightly it almost hurt, and he collapsed onto you with the full, unguarded weight of his body.
For a long time, neither of you moved.
His breathing was ragged against your neck. Your fingers traced absent patterns on his back, sweaty, trembling, still hovering in that hazy space between too much and just right.
Finally, he lifted his head. Looked at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, his expression open in a way it rarely was, stripped of every defense, every careful wall he kept between himself and the world.
"Three weeks was too long," he said quietly. "I'm not doing that again."
"Okay."
"I mean it. I don't care how busy it gets. I'm coming home to you. Every night. Even if it's just to fall asleep on the couch. Even if it's just for ten minutes."
"I'll hold you to that," you said.
He kissed you. Soft this time. Slow. The kind of kiss that wasn't trying to prove anything, the kind that just was.
Then he pulled back just far enough to look at you with narrowed, suspicious eyes.
"You planned that. With Jungwon."
You bit your lip. "…Maybe."
He stared at you. Then he dropped his head back onto your chest and laughed—a real laugh, exasperated and disbelieving and warm.
"I'm going to kill him," he mumbled against your skin.
"You'll thank him," you corrected, running your fingers through his hair. "He's the reason you're here right now."
A pause. Then, grudgingly: "I'll thank him later. Right now I'm still mad."
"Right now you're naked in my bed," you pointed out.
"Right now I'm grudgingly naked in your bed," he clarified, and you laughed, and felt him smile against your skin.
Three weeks was way too damn long.
But this, him, here, present, was worth every petty scheme.
Even the table for two.
⭐ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
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( 이희승; ) ⓘ 𝑺𝑴𝑼𝑻! ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ pet names ⋆ creampie ⋆ dom!heeseung ⋆ big dick hee ⋆ choking ⋆ rough sex : 453
──── in which ︵ take it for heeseung, will you?
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heeseung growls loudly, grabbing your legs and pushing them back, spreading you wider. the new angle hits that special spot inside you with each thrust, making you scream.
“take that fuckin' dick." he groans, watching your perfect face contort in pleasure, your mouth open in a perfect o.
“so— big—!" you cry out, his eyes flash with something primal at your words. he's always been big, and hearing you struggle to take him only makes him harder. he reaches down, wrapping his arm around your throat as he continues to pound into you. “too big for this tiny little pussy?"
you try to shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “nooo— can take it—"
he squeezes your throat gently, cutting off your air slightly. “that's my fuckin' girl."
he thrusts harder, deeper, his balls slapping against you with each movement.
“mhhhf—" you pant heavily, chest rising and falling as your brain turns to mush from the lack of air.
he loves seeing you like this, helpless and full of his big dick. he unwraps his arm suddenly, letting you gasp for air. “you gonna keep saying you can take it?"
you mewl weakly, hands trembling on the sheets. “i— i can—" before you can even finish your sentence, he grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders. the new position opens you up even more, allowing him to hit your spot with every single thrust.
he starts fucking you so hard the headboard hits the wall repeatedly. “keep talkin' shit."
“o-oh— god!" your words are cut off by a loud scream as he nails that spot inside you again. he continues his brutal pace, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself deep inside you. you can feel every thick inch of him stretching you wide open. “that's it, scream for me."
“ohohohfuck—!" the sound of your high-pitched screams fills the room, mixing with the wet sounds of him slamming into your cunt over and over again. his fingers dig into your legs hard enough to bruise as he holds you in place, using you like his personal fuck toy. “fuck, you're so tight."
“hee—“
hearing his name on your lips sends him over the edge. he pounds into you even harder, his breathing ragged and loud. his cock swells inside you as he starts to come, filling you with his hot cum. “take it." he growls out, pressing deep inside you.
he stays buried inside you for a moment before pulling out slowly. his cum starts dripping out of stretched hole immediately. heeseung watches as more of his load leaks out, mixed with your own juices. “good girl." he praises you softly, running a hand down your leg.
The kind of Thursday that felt cursed from the moment you woke up.
Rain soaked the city in cold silver streaks, your favorite heels snapped halfway through your commute, and your boss spent the entire afternoon passive-aggressively correcting presentations you had already fixed twice. By the time your date finally picked you up, you were exhausted enough to cancel.
You should have trusted your instincts.
Because dinner was a nightmare.
The man across from you spent forty minutes talking about his ex-girlfriend in painful detail — her yoga business, her emotional unavailability, her “trust issues.” He laughed too loudly at his own jokes and checked his phone every few minutes while you nodded through gritted teeth.
Then, somehow, impossibly, it got worse.
When the bill arrived, he looked at it, looked at you, and said, “You don’t mind splitting, right? Parking downtown is insane.”
You stared at him.
As if maybe if you looked hard enough, the universe would explain how a man could be so deeply embarrassing.
You paid your half. He asked you to Venmo him for the parking ticket.
You went home before you committed a felony.
By midnight, you were sprawled across your bed makeup half ruined, a cheap bottle of wine balanced dangerously beside your thigh. Your room glowed dimly from fairy lights strung along the ceiling, and your head buzzed with anger, humiliation, and alcohol.
Your phone was blurry in your hand when you opened your best friend’s chat.
You hit record.
“I swear to God,” you slurred dramatically, “if one more man wastes my fucking time, I’m going to lose my mind.”
You groaned into your pillow before continuing.
“I just want someone to pin me against the wall and ruin me. No talking. No bullshit. Just one night where someone actually knows how to fuck the thoughts out of my head. Is that seriously too much to ask?”
You ended the recording.
Hit send.
And immediately tossed your phone somewhere onto the blankets before burying your face into your pillow with a miserable noise.
The next morning, sunlight stabbed directly through your curtains and into your skull.
You woke up dehydrated, dizzy, and regretting every life choice you’d made in the last twelve hours.
Your phone buzzed beside your cheek.
Unknown Number.
Your stomach dropped before you even opened it.
Unknown:
“That’s a very bold way to say hello. Bold… honest… and extremely dangerous.”
Your entire body went cold.
No.
No no no.
You shot upright so fast the room spun.
Hands shaking, you opened the chat history.
And there it was.
Your voice note.
Sent to a number you didn’t recognize.
“Oh my fucking God,” you whispered aloud.
Your face burned so hot it physically hurt.
You typed so quickly you almost dropped your phone.
You:
Oh my god I’m SO sorry. That was meant for my friend. Please ignore it. I was drunk.
Three dots appeared instantly.
Unknown:
“Drunk words are sober thoughts, no?”
Your heart skipped.
Unknown:
“Don’t apologize. It was… interesting.”
You covered your face with your hands.
Mortification flooded every nerve in your body.
You should block him.
You absolutely should block him.
Instead, you typed:
You:
Please forget it ever happened.
A pause.
Then:
Unknown:
“Hard to forget a message like that.”
Another bubble appeared seconds later.
Unknown:
“But if it makes you feel better… my name is H.”
You stared at the message far longer than necessary.
Something about it unsettled you.
Not in a bad way.
There was no creepiness in his tone. No desperation. No weird insistence.
Just calm amusement.
Like he had all the time in the world.
You didn’t answer for nearly an hour.
But eventually, curiosity won.
You:
You’re surprisingly normal about this.
H:
“Should I be less normal?”
You laughed despite yourself.
And somehow, against all logic, the conversation continued.
—
At first, it was harmless.
Mostly.
You learned he liked old movies and black coffee. That he stayed awake too late because silence felt easier at night. That he worked long hours and hated crowded spaces.
He never gave too many details about himself.
But somehow, he always managed to get details out of you.
The conversations slipped naturally into your routine.
Good morning texts.
Late-night complaints.
The strange part wasn’t how quickly you became comfortable with him.
It was how easy it felt.
You found yourself checking your phone during meetings, waiting for his messages.
H:
“How bad was today?”
You:
Emotionally? Catastrophic.
H:
“Need me to threaten someone for you?”
You:
Would you?
H:
“Without hesitation.”
And the worst part?
You could practically hear the dry amusement in his voice every time he texted.
You started imagining him.
Not clearly.
Just fragments.
Tall.
Maybe broad shoulders.
Calm eyes.
A low voice.
Hands that looked dangerous.
It became embarrassingly easy to think about him at night.
Especially because he started calling.
The first time happened after one particularly awful day at work.
You had stayed late fixing a campaign proposal while your manager criticized everything you touched. By the time you got home, your chest felt tight with frustration.
Your phone rang at 11:43 PM.
H.
Your stomach flipped.
You answered carefully.
“Hello?”
For a second, there was only silence.
Then—
“Your voice sounds different when you’re tired.”
The sound of him hit you like a physical thing.
Low.
Unfairly calm.
You sat down slowly on the edge of your bed.
“You’ve never heard my voice sober,” you replied weakly.
A soft chuckle crackled through the speaker.
And God.
That laugh.
“You had a rough day.”
It wasn’t a question.
You closed your eyes.
“How can you tell?”
“You sound like you’re holding yourself together with tape.”
You laughed quietly.
“Well. Work sucked. I suck. Everything sucks.”
“You don’t suck.”
The certainty in his tone made your stomach twist.
You leaned back against your pillows, staring at the ceiling while his voice wrapped around you warm and slow.
And somehow, over the next hour, he talked you out of your spiral without even trying.
By the end of the call, you were smiling.
That should have scared you more than it did.
—
The flirting started gradually.
Softer voices after midnight.
The kind of tension that built slowly enough to feel inevitable.
One night, you were curled beneath your blankets while rain tapped softly against your windows.
H:
“What do you do when your thoughts get too loud?”
You stared at the message.
Then typed honestly:
You:
I overthink until I can’t breathe.
The typing bubble appeared immediately.
H:
“I think you spend too much time inside your own head.”
You:
Probably.
H:
“Tell me what you want right now.”
You hesitated with your thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
You swallowed hard.
Then typed the truth before you could stop yourself.
You:
I want someone else to take control for once.
I’m tired of thinking all the time.
The read receipt appeared instantly.
Then nothing.
One minute.
Two.
Three.
Finally—
H:
“If I were there…”
Your breath caught immediately.
Another message.
H:
“I’d pull you onto my lap first.”
Heat rushed up your throat.
H:
“You’d still be overthinking. I can tell.”
Your fingers tightened around the phone.
H:
“So I’d make you look at me while I touched you.”
Your breathing slowed unconsciously.
H:
“I’d push your hair behind your ear… kiss your neck until you stopped thinking about everything except my mouth on you.”
Your thighs pressed together instinctively.
Jesus Christ.
H:
“And then I’d ask you nicely to be a good girl and tell me exactly where you want my hands.”
You stared at the screen so long it dimmed.
Your phone buzzed again.
H:
“Too much?”
You inhaled shakily.
You:
No.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
H:
“Good.”
Then....
He called you.
The call had already lasted 15 minutes when Heeseung’s voice dropped into that dangerous, velvet tone you were starting to crave like oxygen.
“Tell me where your hand is right now,” he murmured, low and commanding.
You were lying on your bed in the dark, heart hammering against your ribs. “On my stomach…”
A soft, amused hum. “Move it lower, baby. Slowly. Push your panties aside and tell me how wet you are.”
Your breath hitched as you obeyed. The moment your fingers slipped beneath the fabric, you let out a shaky whimper.
“I’m… really wet,” you whispered, embarrassed by how slick you already were.
“Good girl. Circle your clit for me.”
You did as he said, fingers moving in lazy circles. A soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.
“Let me hear you. Imagine it’s my tongue instead. I’d lick you so slowly, baby… tasting every drop until you’re shaking and begging.”
Your hips jerked involuntarily. You pressed harder, breath coming faster.
“Add a finger,” he instructed calmly. “Push it inside that tight little pussy and tell me how it feels.”
You slid one finger in, then another, curling them the way you wished he would. “Feels… so good,” you gasped. “But not enough. I want you.”
Heeseung’s breathing grew heavier. You could hear the faint rustle of sheets on his end, like he was touching himself too.
“You want my cock instead of your fingers?” he asked, voice dark. “You want me to stretch you open and fuck you until the only thing you remember is my name?”
“Yes—” you moaned, pumping your fingers faster, the wet sounds embarrassingly loud in your quiet room. “Please,… I need it.”
“Greedy girl,” he chuckled lowly, but his voice cracked with arousal. “Keep fucking yourself with your fingers. Pretend it’s me. Deep and hard, just how you like it.”
You obeyed, adding a third finger, thighs trembling as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly. His voice guided you the entire time — telling you how he’d pin your wrists above your head, how he’d bury himself inside you in one thrust, how he’d fuck you until you were creaming around his cock.
“I’m close—” you whimpered, back arching off the bed.
“Cum for me, baby,” he growled, control finally slipping. “Let me hear how pretty you sound when you fall apart.”
The orgasm crashed into you hard.
"— fuck—” —
Heeseung groaned deeply on the other end, the sound raw and satisfied, like he was coming undone just from listening to you.
For a long moment, only heavy breathing filled the line.
Then Heeseung spoke again, voice soft and warm, almost tender.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “You did so well for me.”
You smiled tiredly, cheeks flushed, heart still racing.
“I wish you were here,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.
Heeseung was quiet for a second.
“So do I,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper.
You buried your face into your pillow with a groan.
Because this was insane.
You didn’t know his real name.
Didn’t know his face.
And yet somehow he had crawled beneath your skin so thoroughly that hearing his voice at night had become the best part of your day.
—
In real life, Lee Heeseung barely existed to you.
Not because he was forgettable.
Actually, the opposite.
He was the kind of attractive that felt intimidating up close.
Tall. Quiet. Sharp-featured.
The kind of man who looked unfairly good even under fluorescent office lighting.
He worked two departments over as a graphic designer for your agency, usually tucked into the far corner with headphones around his neck and black hoodies pulled over broad shoulders.
Most people left him alone.
Not because he was rude.
Because he seemed… distant.
He spoke softly when necessary. Nodded politely in elevators. Occasionally offered dry comments during meetings that made people laugh harder than expected.
But he never lingered.
Never joined office gossip.
Never flirted.
You had spoken to him maybe four times total.
And every interaction lasted under thirty seconds.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
That was usually it.
Sometimes you caught him looking at you during meetings.
But every time your eyes met, he looked away calmly enough that you assumed you imagined it.
The irony was almost painful.
Because every night, you lay in bed smiling at your phone while texting the same man.
You just didn’t know it yet.
—
It happened two weeks later.
Friday evening.
The office was nearly empty, rain hitting the windows in soft rhythmic taps while most employees rushed home before traffic worsened.
You were exhausted.
Again.
You sat alone in the break room stirring instant ramen absentmindedly while waiting for your laptop to finish updating.
Your phone buzzed against the counter.
H:
“Still working?”
You smiled automatically.
You:
Yep.
H:
“Long day?”
You:
I think I’ve lived seventeen years since this morning.
A quiet laugh sounded behind you.
Not from your phone.
Real.
You froze.
Slowly, you turned around.
Lee Heeseung stood near the coffee machine holding a paper cup.
Red hair.
Dark hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows.
And in his hand—
His phone.
Your stomach dropped violently.
His screen lit up.
Another message came through.
Your phone buzzed at the exact same moment.
H:
“Seventeen years is dramatic.”
The world stopped.
You stared at him.
He stared back.
Calm.
Completely calm.
Like he’d known this moment would happen eventually.
Your pulse roared in your ears.
“No way,” you whispered.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
It changed his entire face.
Softer. Warmer. Dangerous in a completely different way.
“Hi,” he said quietly.
Your brain short-circuited.
“You—”
He lifted his coffee calmly.
“Me.”
“You’re H?”
“I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out.”
You looked horrified.
“You knew?!”
His mouth twitched.
“Not immediately.”
“Oh my God.”
“But I recognized your voice pretty fast.”
You covered your face instantly.
“I need to quit my job.”
His laugh was low and soft.
“You really don’t.”
Mortification consumed you whole.
“You heard that voice note.”
“I did.”
“I’m actually going to die.”
“No,” he replied calmly, stepping closer. “You’re not.”
Your heart started beating harder for an entirely different reason.
Because up close, he was worse.
Much worse.
Pretty in that dangerous, unfair way that made your brain stop functioning correctly.
Dark eyes.
Sharp jaw.
A faint scent of rain and coffee.
And that voice.
God.
That voice.
“You should’ve told me,” you accused weakly.
“I almost did.”
“Almost?”
His gaze held yours steadily.
“You seemed more honest when you didn’t know who I was.”
The air shifted.
Something electric slid beneath your skin.
Your throat suddenly felt dry.
Heeseung looked at you for a long second before speaking again.
“You smile at your phone when you text me.”
Your breath caught.
“I noticed during meetings.”
You blinked slowly.
“Oh my God.”
“And,” he added softly, “you bite your lip when you’re nervous.”
Your pulse stumbled.
“You’re doing it right now.”
You immediately stopped.
Which only made him smile wider.
The realization hit you all at once.
The late-night calls.
The calm voice..
It was him.
Lee Heeseung.
And suddenly every interaction at work felt different.
Your phone buzzed again between you.
You looked down automatically.
H:
“Still want someone to ruin you?”
Your face burned instantly.
You looked up in horror.
Heeseung tilted his head slightly, eyes unreadable.
Then, very softly—
“Because I can still hear that voice note in my head.”
You didn't say anything...
The elevator ride down to the lobby was pure torture.
Not because anything happened.
Because nothing did.
Lee Heeseung stood beside you in complete silence, one hand tucked into the pocket of his hoodie while the other loosely held his phone.
You could feel his presence without even looking at him.
Awful for your sanity.
The elevator hummed softly as numbers blinked downward one by one.
Your phone buzzed again.
You looked down instantly despite yourself.
H:
“You stopped replying.”
You turned slowly toward him.
“You are literally standing next to me."
His expression remained calm, but amusement flickered in his eyes.
“And yet you still checked.”
Your stomach flipped traitorously.
God.
Everything sounded different now that you knew it was him.
Every text suddenly had a face attached to it.
A voice.
Eyes.
Hands.
You immediately shoved that thought away.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you muttered.
“Maybe.”
The elevator doors opened.
Cold air rushed through the lobby as a few employees hurried outside beneath umbrellas. You started walking toward the exit quickly, mostly because standing too close to him felt dangerous now.
Unfortunately, he followed.
Your heels clicked against marble flooring while your heart tried to beat directly out of your chest.
“How long?” you asked suddenly.
Heeseung glanced at you.
“How long what?”
“How long have you known it was me?”
“A while.”
You stopped walking.
“A while?”
His mouth twitched slightly.
“The night you called me crying after your manager yelled at you.”
Horror washed over you instantly.
“Oh my God.”
“You said you wanted to quit and open a café somewhere quiet.”
You stared at him in disbelief.
“You remember that?”
“I remember everything you tell me.”
That should not have affected you as much as it did.
But something in his tone — soft and matter-of-fact — wrapped around your chest painfully tight.
Because people rarely listened to you that carefully.
“You should’ve said something,” you said quietly.
He leaned one shoulder lazily against the wall beside the entrance.
“Would you have kept talking to me if I had?”
You opened your mouth.
Closed it again.
Because honestly?
You didn’t know.
He watched your expression carefully before sighing softly.
“That’s what I thought.”
The teasing edge in his voice was gone now.
This version of him felt more dangerous somehow.
You crossed your arms defensively.
“This is insane.”
“A little.”
“You catfished me.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“I used my actual phone number.”
“That’s not the point.”
“You’re upset because I’m attractive.”
Your jaw dropped.
Heeseung finally laughed properly at that — low and warm and devastatingly pretty.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You’ve been flirting with me for three weeks.”
“Because I didn’t know it was you!”
“And now you do.”
The air between you shifted again.
Your heartbeat stumbled awkwardly.
You knew the man who whispered soft things to you over midnight phone calls was the same man standing only inches away.
It should’ve made things easier.
Instead it made everything infinitely more intense.
“You’re blushing again.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
The certainty in his voice made your pulse jump.
Because unfortunately—
No.
You definitely didn’t.
—
After that night, things became unbearable.
Not in a bad way.
In a you-can’t-function-like-a-normal-person-anymore way.
Because now every interaction carried a second meaning beneath it.
Every glance felt loaded.
Every text made your stomach turn.
And Lee Heeseung was entirely too calm about all of it.
Monday morning, you walked into work sleep-deprived and emotionally unstable after staying awake until 3 AM talking to him on the phone.
You barely made it three steps into the office before hearing:
“Morning.”
Your entire nervous system short-circuited.
Heeseung sat at his desk across the room, headphones resting around his neck while he sipped coffee one-handed.
Completely casual.
Like he hadn’t spent two hours the night before murmuring things that kept replaying in your head against your will.
Several coworkers passed between you, oblivious.
“Morning.”
His eyes lingered on you for exactly one second too long.
Then he smiled slightly and looked back at his monitor.
You nearly walked directly into a wall.
Mina from marketing caught your arm immediately.
“Jesus. You okay?”
“No,” you whispered honestly.
She blinked.
“…Rough weekend?”
You had absolutely no idea how to explain that your quiet coworker had accidentally become the hottest problem in your life.
So instead you nodded weakly and escaped to your desk.
Your phone buzzed seconds later.
H:
“You almost walked into the wall.”
You glared across the office.
Heeseung didn’t even look up from his computer.
You:
This is psychological warfare.
H:
“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
Your stomach betrayed you instantly.
—
By Wednesday, the tension had become genuinely ridiculous.
You avoided being alone with him.
Which only seemed to amuse him more.
Because every time you escaped, another text arrived minutes later.
H:
“Running away again?”
Or—
H:
“You get nervous very easily for someone who sent me that voice note.”
Like he enjoyed watching you unravel slowly.
Which, unfortunately, he absolutely did.
That realization hit you during a late-night phone call.
“You like this,” you accused suddenly.
A pause crackled through the speaker.
“Like what?”
“This.”
You rolled onto your back dramatically.
“Watching me suffer.”
His quiet laugh slid through you like warm honey.
“I wouldn’t call it suffering.”
Another laugh.
God.
You closed your eyes.
“I think you enjoy making me nervous.”
His voice lowered slightly.
“I think you like being nervous.”
Your breath caught.
Silence stretched carefully between you.
“You always get quieter,” he murmured, “when you’re affected by something.”
Your fingers tightened around your phone.
“How do you even notice that?”
“I pay attention to you.”
The simplicity of the answer ruined you a little.
You pressed your face into your pillow.
“This is unfair.”
“What is?”
“The fact that your voice sounds like that.”
He laughed softly.
“How does it sound?”
You immediately regretted bringing it up.
“…Low.”
“Just low?”
“No.”
“No?”
You hesitated.
Then whispered before your dignity could stop you:
“It sounds like you know exactly what you’re doing.”
The line went quiet.
When he finally spoke again, his voice had dropped lower.
“Maybe I do.”
Heat rushed through your entire body.
This man was going to kill you.
“You’re quiet again,” he murmured.
“Shut up.”
Another soft laugh.
Then—
“What are you wearing?”
Your heart nearly stopped.
“Heeseung.”
“Hm?”
“You can’t just ask that.”
“I just did.”
You buried your burning face into your pillow.
“This conversation is over.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Unfortunately—
Again—
You heard him shift slightly on the other end of the call before his voice softened.
“You know what I think?”
You swallowed hard.
“What?”
“I think you like pretending you’re overwhelmed.”
Your pulse jumped.
“Because every time I give you an out…” His voice dipped lower. “You stay anyway.”
Silence.
And then quietly—
“So tell me to stop.”
Because suddenly it wasn’t teasing anymore.
It wasn’t just flirting.
There was something real underneath it now.
He was giving you control.
Waiting.
You opened your mouth.
But no words came out.
And somehow, that answer said enough.
On the other end of the line, Heeseung exhaled softly.
Almost like he was smiling.
“Yeah,” he murmured gently. “That’s what I thought.”
By Thursday night, you were losing your mind.
The office was nearly empty again, most employees already gone while rain blurred against the city windows outside.
You were packing your bag when your phone buzzed.
H: “Come upstairs.”
You: Why?
Three dots appeared.
H: “Just come here.”
That was it.
No explanation.
You stared at the message for a full ten seconds before grabbing your bag and heading toward the stairs like your body had already decided for you.
The rooftop door creaked open against the wind.
Cold rain-scented air wrapped around you immediately.
And there he was.
Lee Heeseung stood near the edge of the rooftop beneath the weak glow of city lights.
He looked over the moment you stepped outside.
“You came,” he said quietly.
“You told me to.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
There was something different about him tonight.
Less teasing.
Too calm.
Your stomach twisted nervously.
“You know what the worst part of this has been?”
“What?”
“The waiting.”
Your breath caught instantly.
He stepped closer slowly.
“You call me at two in the morning when your thoughts get too loud,” he said quietly. “You tell me things you don’t tell anyone else.”
Another step closer.
“You look for me in every room now.”
Your heart slammed violently against your ribs.
“And every time I hear your voice…” His eyes locked onto yours. “I have to pretend I don’t want to touch you.”
The air disappeared from your lungs.
“Heeseung…”
“You said something that night,” he murmured softly.
You swallowed hard.
“What?”
“That you wanted someone to ruin you.”
Heat rushed instantly through your body.
His gaze never left yours.
“And I think,” he said carefully, voice lower now, “the problem is that I don’t want to ruin you.”
Your breath caught.
“I think I want something worse.”
He stopped directly in front of you now.
Close enough to feel his warmth.
Close enough that your thoughts started slipping apart completely.
“And what’s worse?” you whispered.
His jaw tightened slightly before he answered.
“You.”
The single word shattered something in you.
His hand lifted slowly, fingers brushing lightly against your jaw.
His hand slid into your hair as he pulled you against him, kissing you deep enough to make your knees weaken immediately. Heeseung kissed exactly the way he talked to you at night —
You grabbed the front of his shirt to steady yourself while his other hand settled against your waist like he already knew it belonged there.
He exhaled softly against your mouth.
“Fuck,” he whispered, almost frustrated. “Do you know how hard it’s been not touching you?”
Your cheeks burned violently.
“You’re not exactly easy to ignore either.”
A quiet laugh escaped him before his forehead rested briefly against yours.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Just breathing.
“So,” he murmured, eyes warm, “still think this was a wrong number?”
written for the heart’s mailroom event ! ༊
✷ lee heeseung is in need of his stupidly hot girlfriend, a.k.a. you. after seven agonizing days of distance, unanswered yearning, and an alarming amount of time spent staring at your photos, he's hanging onto his sanity by a thread. unfortunately for him, you finally come home looking even better than he remembered !
🗯️ 内容 explicit sexual content ♫ 18+ ⸝⸝ intended for mature audiences | minors do not interact ᯓ established relationship, clingy!heeseung, needy!heeseung, mutual pining, masturbation is implied for both parties, dacryphilia, overstimulation, degradation kink, edging, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie !
EL’S ✷ BUBBLE : goodness gracious hi again everybody . . . again i spent like 3-4 days going back and forth with this and brah sorry i just kept laughing my ass off because from start to finish this is literally just smut so eeeerm whatever this is just 7k words of absolute bullshit ! request can be found here, thank u! ( •̀ ω •́ )
The worst part wasn't the distance. It wasn't the timezone difference or the spotty hotel Wi-Fi or the way your voice cracked over FaceTime at 2 AM his time when you thought he was already asleep but he never was.
The worst part was the photos.
You knew exactly what you were doing.
You had to.
There was no universe where you posted that bikini photo, the one where the teal fabric clung to your tits like it was painted on, water droplets rolling down your collarbone, sun making your skin glow like something divine, and didn't know what it would do to him.
Heeseung had been the first person to like it. Three seconds after it went up. He reshared it to his story with a black heart emoji and nobody understood why. His friends thought it was sweet. His followers assumed it was a casual boyfriend thing. But they didn't know that his hand was already down his sweatpants when he did it, that his cock was achingly hard and leaking against his palm, that the black heart was a coded message: I'm losing my fucking mind.
Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. He counted. He wasn't proud of it.
The first two days were manageable.
You sent him good morning texts with selfies, soft, sleepy, your hair messy and pillow creases on your cheek, and he could handle that. He'd smile at his phone like an idiot, type something disgusting like "you're so cute," and go about his day. But by day three, the photos started arriving. Not the public ones, those were a different kind of torture that he'd scroll through obsessively, zooming in on the curve of your waist, the glimpse of your thighs, the way your lips wrapped around that cocktail straw.
No, the private ones were what broke him.
The first was innocent enough. You were changing after the beach, and you sent a mirror selfie from the hotel bathroom — your damp hair, a white shirt that was slightly see-through from the moisture, clinging to the shape of your breasts, nipples pressing faintly against the fabric, and a pair of black panties underneath. That was it. Just that. You added a caption: "oops, forgot u were on read " and he stopped breathing for a full five seconds.
He screenshotted it. He hated himself for it. He screenshotted it and then he stared at it for twenty minutes, thumb hovering over the call button, cock throbbing in his jeans, and he didn't call because he knew if he heard your voice right then he'd say something pathetic. Something like “please come home” or “I need you so bad it's making me sick” or “I've been hard for three hours and I can't make it stop.”
So he jerked off instead. Right there on the couch, phone in one hand, cock in the other, scrolling through your story, pausing on every frame where your body was visible.
He came embarrassingly fast, under two minutes, with a broken sound that was half moan, half whine, hips bucking up into his fist, and when it was over he felt worse. Not better. Worse. Because his hand wasn't your hand, wasn't your mouth, wasn't your body, and his own orgasm felt like a consolation prize compared to what he actually wanted.
He cleaned up and stared at the ceiling and missed you so much it felt like a physical wound.
Day four was when you sent the photo. He'd later think of it that way, with reverential dread, the way people talk about natural disasters that ruin their lives.
It was a full body shot. You were wearing his black shorts, the ones that were baggy on you, the ones you'd stolen from his drawer before you left, the ones that had to be pinned at the back with a safety pin because they wouldn't stay up. They were slung low on your hips, and he could see the edge of your panties sticking out from underneath, pale pink, a thin strip of lace, the kind you wore when you wanted to feel pretty and not when you wanted to be practical.
Above the waistband, your bare stomach, your navel, and then just a bra, black, simple, pushing your breasts up in a way that made his mouth water. And your hand. Your hand was on your breast, fingers splayed, cupping it through the fabric, and you were looking at the camera with this expression that knowing. It was cruel. You knew what this would do to him. You were doing it on purpose.
His favorite. His absolute favorite. He saved it, he screenshotted it, he sent it to his hidden album, and then he put his phone down and pressed his palms against his eyes and breathed through the wave of arousal that hit him so hard it made his vision blur.
you're wearing my shorts 🤨
That's what he texted you. That's all he could manage.
yeahhh 😿 they smell like u & imy already 🙁 i sleep in them every night, you sent back.
He threw his phone across the couch.
Then he picked it back up, because of course he did.
Day five, you sent nudes. Not even strategically angled ones, real ones, the kind that left nothing to imagination. You were changing, you said, and you just had to show him. Your breasts, bare, your nipples peaked from the air conditioning, one arm stretched out holding the phone, the other covering just enough to be teasing but not enough to hide anything. A second photo: your back, arched, looking over your shoulder, the curve of your ass in those white panties, the dip of your spine, and he could see the strap marks from your bikini, tan lines that made him want to trace them with his tongue.
He sent a voicemail back. He couldn't type. He couldn't form words. So he hit record, and the sound that came out of him was filthy. He was jerking himself off, fast and wet, and he didn't even try to be quiet about it.
He let you hear everything: the slick sound of his fist, the desperate little "hah, hah" of his breathing, the whine that built in his throat, the way he said your name like a prayer and a curse at the same time. "Fuck, baby, I—I need you so bad, I can't—"and then he came, mid-sentence, with a broken moan that cracked at the end, and the voicemail ended with him panting, shaky, barely audible: "Please come home."
You sent back a voice note of your own. Just your voice, breathy and amused: "Aww. Poor baby." And then, softer, almost tender: "Four more days. You can last four more days, right?"
He couldn't. He really, truly couldn't.
Day six, the sexting happened. It started with a check-in, him asking if you'd eaten, if you were staying hydrated, if you were wearing sunscreen, and somehow, inevitably, it derailed. You told him you'd been thinking about him on the beach. About how the water felt, cold and slippery against your skin, and how you wished it was his hands instead. How you'd touched yourself in the shower that morning and imagined it was him, imagined him pressing you against the tile, imagined his mouth on your neck, his fingers inside you.
He was hard before you finished the second message.
"I want to eat you out so bad," he typed, not even caring how desperate he sounded. "I want to put my mouth on you and not stop until you're crying."
"You want to make me cry?"
"I want to make you feel so good you can't help it. I want to taste you. I want—I want—" He couldn't finish. He was too busy coming again, cock pulsing in his grip, spurting over his knuckles, and he hadn't even been looking at anything. Just the words on his screen. Just the thought of you. He came from reading a text message.
Heeseung, twenty-five years old, who prided himself on at least a little stamina, came from words on a screen like a fucking teenager, and he groaned through it, jaw clenched, and thought: I am so, so fucked.
Day seven, the last day, he didn't even touch himself. He just lay in bed and stared at your photos and throbbed. His cock was so hard it ached, flushed and angry and leaking, and he didn't wrap his hand around it because he knew it would be over in seconds and he'd feel even emptier afterward. He just let himself suffer. He let the want build until it was a living thing in his chest, a hollow hunger that no amount of his own touch could fill.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow you'd be home.
He didn't sleep.
You walked through the door at exactly 4:47 PM, and Heeseung was already standing in the hallway like he'd been waiting there for hours, which he had been, since you'd texted him your flight landed, since you'd texted him you were in the cab, since you'd texted him you were five minutes away.
He was wearing his grey sweatpants and an oversized black t-shirt and his hair was messy and he looked like he hadn't slept in a week, and the look on his face when he saw you—
It was hunger. Pure, unfiltered, desperate hunger.
And you looked so fucking good. That was the thing. You knew you did. You'd changed at the airport, into the tiniest denim shorts you owned, the ones that barely covered the bottom curve of your ass, the ones that rode up when you walked. A white tank top, thin enough that the outline of your bikini top was visible underneath, thin enough that if you took that off there would be nothing between your nipples and the fabric but air. Your skin was tanned and glowing and you smelled like coconut and sunlight and he was on you before you even set your suitcase down.
"I missed you," he breathed against your mouth, and then he was kissing you, hands everywhere, your waist, your hips, sliding down to grip your ass through those ridiculous shorts, and he was already hard. You could feel him against your thigh, thick and hot, and he was pressing into you like he couldn't help it, like his body was moving on autopilot, chasing contact.
"I missed you too, baby," you murmured against his lips, and you felt him shiver at the endearment. Your hands came up to card through his hair, and you tugged, just a gentle pull, just enough to tilt his head back, and his breath caught audibly. A small, broken sound that went straight between your legs.
Heeseung, your boyfriend, your pathetic, beautiful, desperate boy, was already trembling.
"Let me—can I—" He couldn't finish a sentence. His hands were shaking where they gripped your waist. He was looking at you with those big, dark eyes, pupils blown so wide the brown was barely visible, and there was a flush creeping up his neck, staining his cheeks pink. "Please. I need—it's been a week and I can't—"
"Can't what?" you asked, and your voice was low and teasing, a dangerous lilt that made his cock twitch. You knew exactly what he couldn't do. You wanted to hear him say it.
"I can't think about anything except you," he said, and his voice cracked on the word you, cracked like he was about to cry, and god, that did something to you. "I've been—I've been so hard, all week, and my hand isn't enough, and I keep coming but it doesn't help, and I—"
"Shh," you said, and you pressed your thumb to his lower lip, and his mouth fell open instantly, pliant and willing, and his tongue darted out to wet the pad of your thumb and you felt a pulse of heat between your thighs. "I'm here now. I'm going to take care of you, okay?"
He nodded frantically, your thumb still on his lips, and he looked so pretty like this — desperate and flushed and hanging on your every word.
You pulled his hair again, harder this time, and he moaned. Actually moaned, loud and shameless, head tipping back to expose the long line of his throat, and you took the opportunity to bite his neck, not gently, not a love bite, a real bite, teeth sinking into the muscle, and he bucked against you with a sound that was dangerously close to a whimper.
"Bedroom," you said.
Heeseung was on the bed before you finished the word, sitting on the edge, looking up at you with those wide, eager eyes, and you stood between his spread legs and looked down at him and felt powerful. You felt powerful alright. This boy, this beautiful, needy, pathetic boy, was literally shaking with want for you, and you'd barely touched him.
You reached down and took off your tank top, slow, dragging it up your body, and his eyes tracked the movement like he was hypnotized. Underneath was the bikini top, teal, the same one from the photo, the one he'd jerked off to four times. Your breasts were spilling out of it, the fabric barely containing them, and he made a sound — not a word, just a noise, like all the air had been punched out of him.
"You like this one?" you asked, running a finger along the edge of the fabric, pushing your breast up slightly. "You seemed to. You watched the story it was in about forty times."
"I—" His voice was raw. "I lost count."
"Take off your shirt."
He ripped it off so fast the seams made a sound, and his chest was heaving, skin flushed pink from his collarbones to his stomach, and you could see the tent in his sweatpants, could see the dark spot of precum soaking through the grey fabric. He was leaking. Just from this. Just from you standing in front of him in a bikini top.
"You're already making a mess," you observed, and you reached down and ran a single finger along the length of his cock through his pants, feather-light, and he jerked like he'd been electrocuted. His hips chased your hand the moment you pulled away, thrusting up into empty air, and he let out a whine that was so pitiful, so utterly desperate, that you felt your own arousal pulse, hot and slick, between your legs.
"Please touch me," he begged. "Please, I need—"
"In a minute." You unbuttoned your shorts and shimmied them down your legs, and underneath were the black panties. The ones from the mirror photo. The see-through ones. And he was staring at them like he was having a religious experience, mouth open, breath ragged, and you could see his cock twitch in his pants, could see another pulse of precum darken the fabric.
"Remember these?" You turned around slowly, letting him see the back, the sheer fabric clinging to the curve of your ass, the lace trim riding up just slightly, and you looked over your shoulder at him and bit your lip. "You came so hard to this picture. I heard the voicemail, baby. You sounded so pathetic. So needy. Were you that desperate for me?"
"Yes," he choked out. "Yes, I was—I am—please—"
You turned back around and stepped closer, close enough that if he leaned forward his face would be inches from your body, and you reached behind yourself and unclasped the bikini top. It fell away, and your breasts were bare, nipples hard from the cool air and from the way he was looking at you, like he was starving and you were the first meal he'd seen in a week.
He lunged forward, mouth open, aiming for your breast, and you grabbed his hair and pulled him back.
"Did I say you could touch?"
The sound he made was devastating. A sob, cut off halfway, and his eyes were wet, actually wet, glassy with unshed tears, and his lower lip was trembling, and he looked so wrecked, so utterly desperate, that for a moment you almost caved. Almost. But you wanted to draw this out. You wanted to make it good.
"Tell me what you want," you said.
"I want—I want to taste you." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I want to put my mouth on you. I want—gosh, I want to eat you out so bad, I've been thinking about it all week, thinking about how you'd sound, how you'd feel on my tongue, and I—"
"Then do it."
He didn't need to be told twice.
His hands grabbed your hips and he pulled you forward and pressed his face between your legs, mouth against your pussy through the sheer fabric of your panties, and you felt the heat of his breath, the desperate slide of his tongue against the wet material. He was moaning into you, actual moans, vibrating against your clit, and the fabric was getting wetter, your wetness, his saliva, the barrier between his tongue and you becoming translucent with moisture.
"Take them off," you said, breathless, and he hooked his fingers in the waistband and dragged them down so fast the lace scratched against your thighs, and then his mouth was on you, bare, and—
Fuck.
He was good at this. He'd always been good at this, enthusiastic and sloppy and absolutely relentless, but today, after a week of wanting, a week of desperate late-night phone calls and photos and voicemails, he ate you out like he was dying. His tongue was everywhere, broad strokes through your folds, pointed flicks against your clit, and then he sucked your clit into his mouth and you gasped and your hand flew to his hair and pulled and he whimpered against you, the vibration making your knees buckle.
"Shit, baby—"
He looked up at you from between your thighs, lips swollen and glistening, chin wet, eyes glassy and pleading, and he didn't stop, he kept licking, kept sucking, kept making those small, desperate sounds against your body, and you could feel his hips rutting against the edge of the mattress, grinding against nothing, chasing friction because he was so turned on he couldn't help it.
You pushed him back, and he made a sound of protest, raw and bereft, but you were climbing onto the bed, straddling his face, and then you lowered yourself onto his mouth and he grabbed your thighs and held you there and devoured you.
His tongue was inside you, then on your clit, then inside again, and he was making sounds like he was the one being eaten out, little muffled whimpers and moans, and you were grinding against his face, chasing the pleasure, and you felt it building, that tight coil in your abdomen, and—
"I'm going—fuck, baby, I’m going to come on your face," you told him, and he doubled his efforts, tongue working your clit in fast, tight circles, and you came with a cry, thighs clamping around his head, body arching, and he kept going, kept licking you through it, kept moaning like your orgasm was his own, and when you finally pulled away, shaking, he was gasping for air and his chin was drenched and he was looking up at you with absolute, total devotion.
"Good boy," you murmured, and he shuddered. Actually shuddered, full-body, and you felt his cock jerk where it pressed against your thigh through his sweatpants. "You made me feel so good. You always do."
"Please," he whispered, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Just one, sliding from the corner of his eye, and he didn't seem to notice it. "Please, I need—I need to be inside you, I need—"
"Not yet." You climbed off his face and positioned yourself beside him, and you reached down and palmed his cock through his sweatpants, and he arched off the bed with a strangled cry. The fabric was soaked. Not just damp, soaked, a huge dark patch of precum, and you could feel how hard he was, how thick and hot and desperate, and you squeezed gently and his entire body seized.
"You're so wet," you said, rubbing your palm over the head through the fabric, spreading the moisture, and he was twitching uncontrollably, hips jerking up into your hand. "You've been leaking all day, haven't you? Just thinking about me coming home?"
"All week," he corrected, voice breaking. "All week, I've been—"
"Take this off."
He shoved his sweatpants down, kicked them off, and his cock sprang free, flushed dark, the head an angry red, slick with precum that was dripping down the shaft in a steady stream. He was so hard, veins prominent, twitching in the open air, and you wrapped your hand around the base and his whole body spasmed.
"Ah—fuck, fuck—"
You stroked him once, slow, from base to tip, spreading his precum, and his head fell back against the pillows and his mouth fell open and the sound that came out of him was barely human. You stroked him again, and he was already close, you could tell, his thighs trembling, stomach clenching, and you tightened your grip just slightly and twisted on the upstroke and he screamed.
Not a moan. A scream. Raw and desperate and overwhelmed, and his hips were bucking up into your fist, chasing the sensation, and you could feel him throbbing in your hand, getting close, getting—
You let go.
He sobbed. Actually sobbed, chest heaving, cock bobbing in the air, flushed and leaking and so close to the edge that a single touch would have sent him over, and tears were streaming down his face now, not just one but two wet tracks down his cheeks, and he was looking at you with the most destroyed expression you'd ever seen on another human being.
"Why—" his voice cracked, shattered, "why did you stop—"
"Because I want to do something else first." You shifted, repositioned, and you wrapped your hand around him again and leaned down and took the head of his cock into your mouth.
The sound he made was not a word. It was not a moan. It was something between a gasp and a wail, and his hands flew to your hair, not pushing, just holding, fingers tangling in the strands, and his whole body was trembling like a live wire.
You swirled your tongue around the tip, tasting him, and then you sank down, taking him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, and he was falling apart above you.
"Oh god, oh god, oh—your mouth, your mouth feels so—I'm going to—I'm going to come, I can't—"
You pulled off with a slick pop and squeezed the base of his cock, hard, and he yelled, and the orgasm that had been building was throttled, stopped just short of the peak, and he was crying openly now, tears running freely, lower lip caught between his teeth, and the sounds coming out of him were sobs and whimpers and fragmented syllables that might have been your name.
"Please let me come," he begged, and his voice was so raw, so ruined, that you felt a rush of wetness between your own thighs. "Please, I can't—it hurts, I need to come so bad, please—"
"I know, baby," you murmured, and you stroked his hair back from his forehead, gentle now, tender, and he leaned into your touch like a touch-starved animal. "I know it hurts. You've been so good for me. So patient and all. Let me make you feel better."
You reached between your legs with your free hand, you were soaking, absolutely drenched, your fingers sliding through your folds with no resistance, and you touched yourself while you stroked him, and the dual sensation made you both groan. You rubbed your clit in slow circles while you jerked him off, and you were so turned on from watching him fall apart, from the power of having this beautiful, desperate boy at your mercy, that you were already close to another orgasm.
"You want to know a secret?" you asked, voice low and sultry, and he blinked up at you through tear-blurred eyes. "I touched myself thinking about you too. On the trip. In the hotel room. I'd look at the photos you sent—your voice notes, those sounds you made—and I'd fuck myself with my fingers and pretend it was you."
He twitched violently in your hand, and a fresh wave of precum spilled over your fingers.
"I'd come so hard, baby," you continued, squeezing him, stroking faster, your other hand working your own clit in matching rhythm. "But it wasn't enough. My fingers aren't your cock. My fingers aren't you. I needed you just as bad as you needed me."
"I needed you more," he gasped, and it was so pathetic, so utterly heartfelt, that you felt your orgasm crash into you without warning, your body seizing, cunt clenching around nothing, and you moaned loud and long, and the sound of your pleasure pushed him right to the edge again and this time you didn't stop.
You felt the moment he broke.
His cock pulsed once, twice, and then he was coming, thick ropes of cum spurting over your hand, over his stomach, and he was crying out, sounds, raw and broken and overwhelmed, and his whole body was arching off the bed, and the tears were flowing freely now, mixing with the sweat on his face, and you kept stroking him through it, kept your hand moving, and he kept coming, more than you'd ever seen from him, spurt after spurt, and you realized he was still hard. Still hard and still coming and his body didn't know when to stop because it had been wound so tight for so long that the release was overflowing.
"Stop, stop, it's too much—" he sobbed, and you let go, and he lay there, wrecked, chest heaving, cum splattered across his stomach and your hand, tears on his face, and his cock was still hard, still flushed and twitching, and you knew one orgasm wasn't going to be enough. Not after a week. Not after all that buildup.
"That's one," you said, and you brought your cum-covered hand to your lips and licked a stripe up your palm, tasting him, and his eyes went impossibly wide and his spent cock actually jerked back to full attention. "You've got more in you, don't you?"
He nodded, wordless, still crying, and you thought he'd never looked more beautiful.
You stripped off your panties, the last remaining piece of clothing on your body, and you straddled his waist, and you felt his cum between your bodies, slick and warm against your stomach, and you didn't care. You wanted to be messy. You wanted this to be filthy. You wanted him to remember what it felt like when you finally, finally gave him what he'd been begging for.
"I'm going to ride you now," you told him, and you saw the hope bloom in his eyes, the desperate, grateful hope, and you leaned down and kissed him, properly kissed him, tongue in his mouth, tasting yourself on his lips from when he'd gone down on you, and he kissed back frantically, hands coming up to cup your face, and he was making small sounds into your mouth, little whimpers and sighs, and you could feel his cock pressing against your ass, hot and hard and still leaking.
You reached behind you and positioned him at your entrance, and you sank down, just the tip, just the head, and you both groaned. He was big, you'd forgotten, in a week, just how big, how the stretch of him made your walls flutter and clench, and he was so sensitive from his first orgasm that the mere sensation of your heat around the head of his cock had him whimpering, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise.
"More," he gasped. "Please, more—"
You sank down, slow, torturous, and you watched his face as you did, the way his eyes rolled back, the way his jaw dropped, the way his breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. When you bottomed out, when he was fully inside you, you paused, and you felt him throbbing, felt every twitch and pulse, and you clenched around him deliberately and he sobbed.
"Don't—please—if you do that, fuck—I'll—"
"You'll what? Come again?" You clenched harder, and he cried out, hands scrabbling at your hips. "That's the point, baby. I want you to come inside me. I want to feel it. I've been thinking about this all week—your cock inside me, filling me up, making me yours again."
More tears fell, and you realized he wasn't crying from sadness or from pain. He was crying from feeling. From the overwhelming intensity of finally, finally having you, finally being inside you, after a week of his own inadequate hand and your cruel, beautiful photos. He was crying because it felt too good to process. "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm—"
You started to move. Slow at first, a grinding roll of your hips that pressed his cock against your front wall, against that spot that made your vision blur, and you braced your hands on his chest and rolled your hips and watched him fall apart beneath you. He was gone. Completely gone. His head was thrown back, throat exposed, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed convulsively, and his hands were on your hips, holding on. Holding on like you were the only solid thing in a world that was spinning too fast.
"Faster," he begged. "Please, faster, harder—"
You obeyed. You lifted your hips and slammed back down, and the sound that rang out was so obscene that he yelled, and you did it again, and again, setting a brutal pace, riding him hard, and the angle was perfect, the pressure on your clit from the base of his dick, the stretch of him inside you, and you were already close again, already feeling that coil tightening.
"Touch me," you commanded, and his hands flew to your breasts, squeezing, thumbs rolling over your nipples, and you moaned and threw your head back and bounced on his cock harder, and he was meeting your thrusts now, hips snapping up to meet you, and the wet slap of your bodies was the filthiest, most beautiful sound in the world.
"You feel so good," he gasped, voice raw and destroyed. "You feel so fucking good, I can't—I'm not going to last—"
"Then don't." You leaned down and bit his earlobe, then whispered against the shell of his ear: "Come inside me. Fill me up. I want to feel it dripping out of me for the rest of the night."
He shattered. His back arched off the bed, his fingers dug bruises into your hips, and he came with a sound that was closer to a scream than a moan, long, drawn-out, broken in the middle by a sob, and you felt it, felt the pulse of his cock inside you, felt the heat of his cum flooding you, and it pushed you over the edge too, your orgasm ripping through you, cunt clenching and fluttering around him, milking every last drop, and you collapsed against his chest and both of you were shaking, trembling, crying — the hell, when had you started crying?
You didn't know, but your bodies were tangled together and it was too much, everything was too much, in the best possible way.
You lay there for a long moment, catching your breath, his cock softening inside you, and you felt the trickle of his cum leaking out around the seal of your bodies, and he was still sniffling, still trembling, and you pressed kisses to his jaw, his cheek, his tear-streaked face, and he turned into your touch like a flower toward the sun.
But this was the thing about Heeseung, you shifted your hips slightly, and you felt it. Still half-hard. Twitching. Recovering. And you knew, with a rush of heat between your legs, that he wasn't done.
Neither were you.
"Baby," you murmured against his ear, and you felt him shiver. "You still want more?"
"I always want more," he whispered, and his voice was wrecked, hoarse from crying and moaning, and the honesty in it made your cunt clench around his half-hard cock and he hissed. "I always want you. It’ll never be enough."
"You’re too greedy, no? How can someone be that greedy," you teased, and you bit your lip and looked down at him through your lashes, and his eyes darkened.
"Only for you."
You lifted your hips and let him slip out. You saw the mess, his cum and yours, smeared across his stomach and yours, and you reached down and ran your fingers through it, and you brought them to his lips, and he opened his mouth without hesitation, sucking your fingers clean, tongue swirling around the digits, and his cock, which had been softening, jerked back to full hardness.
"Dirty boy," you murmured, and he flushed darker, and you saw the conflict on his face, shame and arousal warring behind his eyes, and arousal won, as it always did with him. "You like being dirty for me, don't you?"
"I like being anything for you," he said, and it was the most sincere thing anyone had ever said to you.
You turned around. You positioned yourself on your hands and knees, and you looked over your shoulder at him, and you stuck your tongue out, just a little, just a tease, the way you knew drove him insane, and you wiggled your hips and said: "Then come prove it."
He was behind you in a second. His hands gripped your ass, spreading you open, and you felt his gaze on you, on your pussy, still dripping with his cum, still puffy and flushed from your orgasms, and he groaned, low and hungry, and you felt his cock press against your entrance.
"Wait," you said, and he froze instantly, ever obedient, ever desperate to please. "I want you to eat me out first. Again. I want your tongue inside me again. Then you can fuck me."
He didn't hesitate. His face was between your legs again, tongue sliding through your folds, tasting both of you and he moaned against you like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. His tongue pushed inside you, fucking you with it, and you could feel his cum dripping onto his tongue, and he was swallowing it, swallowing everything, and the obscenity of it had you pushing back against his face, grinding, chasing more.
"Such a good boy," you gasped, and he whimpered into you, and you felt fresh tears, his tears this time, wetting the inside of your thighs as they fell, and the vulnerability of it, the raw submission, had you hurtling toward another orgasm. "My good boy. Only mine. Nobody else gets to see you like this, nobody else gets to have you—"
"Only you," he confirmed against your body, the words muffled by your pussy, vibrating against your clit. "Only you, only you, only—"
You came on his tongue, again, thighs shaking, and he held you up and licked you through it and when you finally pulled away you were boneless and trembling and he was looking at you with those red-rimmed, tear-stained, absolutely wrecked eyes, cock jutting out from his body, hard as steel, and you felt a rush of tenderness so fierce it almost hurt.
"Come here," you said softly, and you turned onto your back and opened your arms, and he crawled up your body and kissed you, and you tasted yourself and him on his tongue, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him into you in one fluid motion.
He sank to the hilt and you both gasped, and this time it was slower, not the frantic, desperate pace of before, but something deeper. He was moving in long, grinding strokes, hitting every sensitive spot inside you, and his forehead was pressed against yours, and you could see his eyes up close, overflowing with feeling, and you cupped his face and brushed the tears away with your thumbs and he turned his head to kiss your palm.
"I love you," he whispered, and his voice broke on love, broke open like he couldn't contain it, and you pulled his hair and he moaned and you bit your lip and he watched your mouth like it was the center of the universe.
"I love you more," you said, and then you tightened your legs around his waist and rolled your hips and he made a sound that was half sob, half moan, and you swallowed it with a kiss.
He fucked you slower but deeper, each thrust deliberate, purposeful, hitting that spot that made your breath catch, and you could feel another orgasm building, your fourth, his third, and this one felt different, bigger, like something immense was gathering at the base of your spine, and you broke the kiss and gasped against his mouth.
"I'm close," you warned, and he nodded, and his pace increased, hips snapping faster, and he was hitting so deep, so perfect, and you were clenching around him, and he was groaning with every thrust, and—
"I'm—I can't—" He was crying again, silent tears streaming, and his face was scrunched up in an expression that was almost pain, almost pleasure, something in between that was too intense to name. "I'm going to—again—"
"Do it," you commanded. "Come with me. Now."
You clenched around him and his mouth fell open in a silent scream, and you felt him pulse inside you, felt the heat of his cum, and that triggered your own orgasm, this one different, deeper, your whole body shaking, cunt clenching rhythmically around him, and you were both crying, both gasping, both clinging to each other like you were the only two people in the world, and he was still thrusting through it, shallow and twitching, and you could feel the overstimulation making him shake, making his breath come in hitches and hiccups, and he collapsed against you, full body weight pressing you into the mattress, and you held him and he sobbed against your neck.
"I'm sorry," he wept, and you could feel his tears hot against your skin. "I can't stop crying, I'm sorry—"
"Don't apologize," you said, and your own voice was thick, wavering. "Don't you dare apologize. That was—you were perfect. You're always perfect."
He lifted his head and looked at you, face blotchy and wet and so, so beautiful, and you kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and he smiled, and you felt your heart crack open in your chest.
"You're mine," you told him, and it wasn't a question.
"Yours," he agreed, and he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in, and you felt his cock twitch one last time inside you, and you both laughed, the sound of it echoing off the walls of your shared apartment, your home, the place where you belonged, together, tangled up in each other and the mess you'd made.
Later, much later, after showers and water bottles and the kind of gentle, exploratory touching that was less about arousal and more about reassurance, you lay tangled in bed together, your head on his chest, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your shoulder.
"I have a confession," he said quietly.
"More confessions? After all that?"
"I screenshot every photo you sent. Even the ones from your public story. I have a whole album."
You laughed, bright and surprised. "I know. I can see your screenshots."
He groaned, covering his face with his free hand. "Fuck, that's so embarrassing."
"That's so hot," you corrected, and you bit his chest playfully, and he squirmed. "I love that you were that desperate for me. I love that I had you on a chokehold."
"You always have me on a chokehold," he muttered, and there was no heat in it, just fact. Just the simple, unvarnished truth. "You could wear a garbage bag and I'd still be hard for you in three seconds."
"Ew, that's so… disgusting and romantic and I'm going to think about it every time I miss you."
"Don't go anywhere for a while," he said, and his voice was small, and when you looked up at him his eyes were earnest and vulnerable and still slightly red from crying. "Please."
You reached up and stroked his hair, and he melted into the touch, and you pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw.
"I'm not going anywhere," you promised. "I just got back to you."
He pulled you closer, tighter, like he could fold you into himself and keep you there permanently, and you let him. You let him cling and you clung back, because the truth, the truth that neither of you said out loud but both of you knew, was that the desperation went both ways. You'd sent those photos on purpose, sure, but not just to tease. You'd sent them because you needed him to want you. You needed to feel wanted from five hundred miles away. You needed proof that the ache was mutual.
And it was. God, it was.
"I'm already hard again," he mumbled against your hair, and you felt the evidence pressing against your thigh, and you laughed again, incredulous, fond, so deeply in love it made your chest hurt.
"What a weirdo," you accused.
"Only for you," he said, and it was the second time he'd said it tonight, and you believed it completely.
You rolled on top of him and pinned his wrists to the pillow and leaned down and whispered against his lips: "Then let's go again."
And his eyes lit up, bright, eager, desperate, yours, and he said:
✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !
He’s out the door by 6:30 every morning , but he always lingers for a second by the bed. Even if he’s running late, he’ll lean down to press a kiss to your forehead while you’re still buried under the duvet, his voice low as he tells you to go back to sleep.
He actually keeps a drawer in his desk. It’s a mix of things you always lose, such as spare hair ties and your specific lip balm along with those sickly sweet coffee pods he personally finds undrinkable but stocks anyway just for when you drop by.
He’s known for being terrifyingly focused in negotiations, but he still finds five seconds to send a text that just says, "Still thinking about how you laughed at dinner." Then he locks his phone and go right back to closing a multimillion-dollar deal.
The CEO Heeseung persona dies the second he enters the elevator. When he’s in the penthouse, his tie is loose, his sleeves are rolled up, and his only priority is you.
His wallpaper is a candid photo of you sleeping. He uses it as a sort of mental reset button during particularly brutal board meetings.
He never makes a thing out of it, but your favourite flowers just... appear. Every couple of weeks, the vase in the entryway is full again, always the white roses, your favourite.
When he’s really tired, he gets clingy. He will pull you onto his lap soon as he sits down, and then he hides his face in the crook of your neck and just breathes you in.
He once spent an hour badgering the family chef to teach him how to make your go-to comfort food. Now, if he sees you’re stressed or studying late, he’ll cook a version of it that’s probably a bit burnt or salty, but he looks so proud of it you’d never tell him.
If you text him saying you’re feeling under the weather, the "important" business dinner is over. He will let his assistant take care of the rest and show up at the door twenty minutes later with takeout. Then he will hold you until you fall asleep.
At those stuffy company events, he’s never not touching you. While he’s nodding along to some executive’s story, his thumb is constantly tracing absentminded circles over the back of your hand, keeping you anchored to him.
He claims to be a tsundere, but you know him better than anyone else and how sentimenal he is. He has a box hidden in his cupboard, It doesn't hold documents or keys; it’s filled with every single note of good luck note you’ve ever tucked into his briefcase. He considers those more valuable than any contract he’s ever signed.
He has a specific wokrk voice that is dangerously calm and cold when he’s frustrated. But the second you walk into the room, his eyes soften visibly, and his posture shifts from intimidating CEO to just... your husband.
He loves it when you steal his expensive dress shirts. He’ll see you walking around with the sleeves hanging past your hands and just look away with a tiny, satisfied smirk, feeling like he’s absolutely won at life. (which, tbh he did)
No matter how late his flight lands or how jet-lagged he is, he refuses to go to bed until you’re there. You’ll often find him waiting up on the sofa, shirt unbuttoned and exhausted, because the day doesn't actually end for him until he’s seen you.
genre: est. relationship, angstish, suggestive, comfort
w/c: 1,7k
warnings: descriptions of sexual abuse in the past, softdom!hee, use of petnames, insecure and traumatized reader
You always were the one to be left behind — just a second option and nothing more. Always the one to wake up in bed alone, always the one to be quickly forgotten after the night spent together. That's what you were used for and you had to adjust. “I don't date, it's boring”, “I don't make love, it's lame” — things that you would constantly say to people around you. And they thought it's just your personality, your preferences, so they didn't think much of it. The truth is that behind these words and nonchalant behaviour you were hiding a desire to be loved. To be someone's one and only. To be treated carefully with respect, gently like a little princess.
You never actually said it, but you were clinging to the pieces of softness and affection every time you had a night stand with someone. “Baby,” they would whisper in your ear, trying to distract you from the way their dick ruined your walls in a painful way. Their voice echoed in your head, making your heart melt, while your pussy was throbbing in pain. “That's okay, they're doing their best to be careful. It won't hurt, when I adjust,” you would think during the whole night, even when it clearly wasn't alright.
Or you would think that pain brings you more pleasure, that you're just not made for soft sex. “It's boring,” you would joke, drinking in the company of friends, your words met with a teasing whistle.
Your sex partners would constantly hurt you, but you always tried to please them in every way possible. You knew exactly what every guy dreamt about and you were always ready to give it to them. Just to earn an approving reaction or praise, just to be filled inside later — you always hoped it would make you feel less empty.
But it never worked. Instead, you were always left alone in the morning. Nights in bed would be spent with you covered in tears, desperately hugging a pillow, wishing it was a real person instead. This is something you lived with for a long time. But then it changed.
As soon as you met Heeseung.
He was different right from the start. Always held doors for you, pulled out a chair, made sure you got home safe and comfortable. Everything about him felt right in the best way possible, but there was one thing you couldn’t understand — why he was so nice to you. There was no way he could like someone like you — you simply couldn’t put it in your head. But when Heeseung actually confessed his feelings it felt like a fairytale. And everything started to change even more.
There you were now. In the hallway of your apartment. Pressed to the wall. Making out with Heeseung.
He didn’t even have a chance to say something, when the door hung open and you immediately pulled him into a kiss. Oh, how bad did you want him. His lips were soft against yours, strong arms wrapped around you as soon as he felt your mouth on his. Heeseung always felt what you wanted and always gave it to you. His body pressed to yours, trapping you between him and the wall. One of his hands flew to your hair, holding your head. Not to make sure you don’t pull away, but to express his affection to you. He managed to caress your hair through the whole kiss, butterflies in your stomach appearing like never before.
When his other hand gripped your waist, you arched your back, giving in and whining in his lips. “Hee…” you whimpered, already reaching for his belt on the jeans.
Suddenly, he stopped your hand, gently gripping your wrist. You pulled away, looking into his eyes in slight surprise.
“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to-” you blurted out, imeddiately starting to apologize, but were interrupted.
“I do,” Heeseung firmly replied, his hooded eyes full of two opposites - lust and affection - looking into yours. “But I want to take my time with you. Let’s not hurry, okay?” he gently caressed your cheek, brushing away a strand of your hair.
The soft look he gave you made your stomach flip. You felt warm. And somehow it only made you want more.
“Okay,” you answered with a strained voice, that wasn’t hiding your desire. “How do you want it then? What do you want me to-”
Heeseung lifted you up without saying anything. You gripped onto his neck and he carried you to the bedroom in the bridal style.
When you were there, he gently laid you on the bed, slightly hovering after. His eyes roamed over your body with unhidden affection and admiration. It made the tie in your stomach tighten even more. You weren’t used to this. Usually guys you slept with were in heat and hurried to undress and fuck you. They never actually cared about you, only thinking about your naked body and how to use it. But all of that was long forgotten in the past. Because now you had Heeseung.
His hand caressed your shoulder with a featherlight touch, tracing a line down to your fingers. When he reached your hand, he gently held it, bringing to his lips and leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles. It made you blush like a little girl. This sudden attention that you weren’t used to got your senses heightened, your thighs pulling together. Heeseung noticed your reaction and smirked — not in a mean way, more like he was in awe of your adorable rosy cheeks and squeezed thighs.
“W-what do you want to do? Do you want me to-” you tried to ask again, stuttering — affected by Heeseung’s actions.
“Baby,” he gently said, his eyes softening. “You don’t have to do anything.”
“But how can I-”
“Relax,” Heeseung whispered, placing soft kisses along your jawline. Your breathing hitched and you buried your fingers in his hair, letting out a sigh. His pace was unhurried, small kisses slowly covering your jawline and neck.
He slightly nibbled on your skin, immediately licking the pain away after, apologizing. You shivered at the sudden feeling of the wetness of his tongue on your neck and let out a small sigh.
"Like it, mhm?" Heeseung lowly mumbled in your ear, his smile evident in his voice. "Want me to do it again, baby?"
He pulled away, looking in your eyes and actually waiting for your answer. His eyebrows raised in question, a small grin playing on his lips like he was talking to a child.
You nodded in hesitation, lost in the situation you'd never been before. Heeseung softly chuckled, ruffling your hair and pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.
"That's it. My good girl," he whispered after leaning closer to your ear again, making you shakily exhale. His intonation was soft, relaxed, his words caring and not handling a piece of mockery — only pure affection.
Heeseung brought his tongue to the skin of your neck, starting to lick on it, sometimes leaving small kisses in between.
Gosh, you'd never felt so dizzy in your life.
His hands were lightly caressing your sides, making you shiver at the most sensitive spots — when his fingers gently grazed your thighs and underneath your breasts. Heeseung wasn't pressing — he was exploring, softly, with adoration and no need to rush. Because when you were lying under him with flushed cheeks, letting out small sighs every now and then, he had all the time in the world — even if it wasn't enough he would be able to stop it just to prolong the moment.
Heeseung's hand finally slid under the hem of your shorts but suddenly stopped.
"Is this okay?" he asked in a soft voice, pulling away from your neck where he left a generous number of marks and looking in your eyes. His own were glistening and sparkling — probably love for you had ignited the warm, comforting fire in them.
You slowly nodded, yet still were tense. That was so different and new you felt like all of this time you were having sex in the wrong way. Your partners would devour you like animals, like you never were a person — an object. They never asked your permission for something simple like that, never treated you with so much care.
Heeseung noticed even that.
A small hesitation in your eyes, worry, fear of unknown. He was reading you like an open book, leafing through the pages.
"Are you okay?" Heeseung asked, brushing strands of hair away from your face. "You look like something's bothering you."
You gave him a small smile, mentally deciding to give him an honest answer.
"I'm okay... I've just never— uhm well..." you stopped, not sure of how to describe your situation. Heeseung's eyebrows slightly raised.
"You've never?.. Are you a virgin?" he softly asked, interpreting your words in the wrong way.
You immediately flushed, shaking your hands in the air in denial.
"No, no, no. I've had sex. It just... was different."
Heeseung was confused — he frowned, making a slight crease appear on his forehead.
"How different?"
"Rougher... Harder... Different," you replied quietly, looking in his eyes. Heeseung's eyebrows flew higher, and he bit on his bottom lip.
"You want me to be rougher?.." hesitation was evident in his voice, his mind was racing with different thoughts.
"No! I'm okay with... your rhytm. I love it," you shyly smiled, taking Heeseung's hand and gently squeezing it. "I've never been treated that well in my life," you quietly added, pressing your lips in a thin line.
His gaze softened. He didn't know your background, didn't know about the things that you'd gone through. But he felt it. The desire to be loved and cared of, to be treated right.
"Yeah? You like how I treat you?" Heeseung asked in a lower voice, hovering over you. His eyes flicked to your lips, gaze full of fascination and excitement. "Do you want me to continue then?"
You slightly nodded in reply, feeling small under his weight. Not in the bad way. In the way that made you melt from inside.
"Baby," Heeseung leaned closer to your face, his voice firm and determined. "Let's make love tonight."
Your eyes widened for a second but softened under his gaze. Small smiles were playing on both of your faces. You nodded, burying your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer into a kiss.
It was the moment you realized — you were actually loved and safe. Right in Heeseung's arms.
୨ৎ ֹ : I had to write this because it’s literally what I saw in my dream 🫠
You’re pinned against the cold wall of the hallway, barely inside the apartment door before Heeseung’s mouth crashes into yours. His tall frame towers over you, broad shoulders caging you in as one of his ridiculously big hands grips your jaw, tilting your face up to him. Those long, thick fingers dig into your skin with just enough pressure to make your pulse throb between your legs.
“Been thinking about these all day,” you whimper against his lips, your eyes already glassy as you stare at the hand currently wrapped around your throat. Heeseung chuckles darkly, low and filthy, his breath hot on your cheek.
“Yeah? My pretty girl’s such a slut for my hands.” His voice is velvet-rough, dripping with lust. The hand not around your neck slides down your body, shoving your skirt up to your waist in one rough motion. He doesn’t bother with panties, he hooks two thick fingers into the soaked fabric and yanks them aside, exposing your dripping cunt to the cool air.
You moan loudly as his fingers glide through your slick folds, spreading your wetness messily. Heeseung’s middle and ring fingers are so fucking thick, the calloused pads rubbing perfect circles over your swollen clit before he sinks them inside you without warning. The stretch is immediate and delicious, your walls fluttering greedily around the intrusion.
“Fuck, so wet already,” he growls, pumping his fingers deeper, curling them hard against that spongy spot inside you that makes your knees buckle. “Look at you, creaming on just two fingers. You love how big they are, don’t you baby?”
You nod frantically, eyes rolling back as he starts a brutal rhythm with long, deep strokes that drag along every sensitive inch of your pussy. The obscene wet squelching sounds fill the hallway with every thrust. His palm grinds against your clit while his fingers scissor and curl, stretching you open.
But Heeseung wants more. His other hand tightens around your throat, not choking, but firm enough to hold you in place. “Eyes on me,” he commands, voice low and dangerous. You force your gaze up to meet his dark, hungry eyes, pupils blown wide with lust. The eye contact makes everything more intense, your pussy clenches hard around his fingers as he fucks you faster.
He leans in, kissing you sloppily, tongue invading your mouth before he pulls back and spits directly onto your tongue. “Swallow,” he orders. You do, whimpering pathetically as his fingers never stop their assault. Another orgasm builds fast, coiling tight in your belly. Heeseung feels it, smirks, and doubles down, three fingers now, stretching you wider, his thumb pressing firm circles on your clit. “That’s it, now cum for me. Soak my fucking hand, baby.”
You shatter with a broken cry, walls pulsing violently around his thick fingers as your first orgasm rips through you. Hot squirt gushes out, splashing over his wrist and dripping down your thighs. Your legs shake, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting through it, drawing it out until you’re sobbing with overstimulation.
“Good girl,” he praises, licking a stripe up your cheek, tasting the sweat and tears there. “But I’m not done with you. Not even close.”
Hee drops his head to your chest, freeing his hand around your neck for a second, just to shoving your top down with. His mouth latches onto one nipple, sucking hard while his tongue flicks the sensitive bud. He bites down gently, then soothes it with slow licks as his fingers continue destroying your cunt; relentless, wet, filthy thrusts that make your next orgasm crash over you almost immediately. You squirt again, harder this time, the liquid spraying messily against his palm and soaking the floor. Your vision whites out, pleasure bordering on pain from the overstimulation, but Heeseung just growls against your tit and keeps going.
“Fuck, look at that mess. My needy little girl can’t stop cumming on my fingers.” His hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter this time, forcing your eyes back to his. “Again. Cum again for me.”
You shake your head weakly, overstimulated and drunk on the feeling of those long, thick fingers bullying your g-spot over and over. “T-too much! Heeseung…”
But he doesn’t relent. He keeps using three fingers, stretching you to the limit, curling them perfectly while his palm slaps wetly against your clit. His mouth moves to your other nipple, sucking and biting, leaving red marks on your soft tits as he licks and kisses every inch of skin he can reach.
Another orgasm tears through you, even stronger. You scream his name, squirting all over his hand and forearm, your juices running down your legs in rivulets. Your body convulses against the wall, but Heeseung holds you up with his body and that iron grip on your throat, eyes locked on yours the entire time.
He kisses you again, deep and messy, then spits on your tongue once more before licking a slow, possessive stripe from your jaw to your ear. “Such a good fucking girl. My perfect babygirl. We’re not stopping until you can’t even stand.”
His fingers never slow. Thick, long, relentless. Pumping. Curling. Making you gush and cry and beg while he praises you in that low, filthy voice and worships your body with his mouth. You’re completely pleasure-drunk, lost in the endless cycle of his hands, his mouth, and his dark, loving eyes that refuse to let you look away. And Heeseung? He’s only getting started.
Heeseung’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, as he gently bounced his squirming baby girl in his arms. His heart ached, knowing how much he’d been away recently. The relentless demands of idol life had kept him from moments like these—simple, precious moments with his daughter. Yet here he was now, home at last, determined to make up for lost time while you rested in the other room, pregnant with their second child.
The baby’s pouty lips trembled as she squirmed harder, her little fists pushing against his chest. “Mama,” she whimpered, the word breaking Heeseung’s heart into pieces.
“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Heeseung murmured, brushing her soft hair away from her flushed face. “Mama’s just resting, baby. You’ve got me, though. Dada’s here.”
But the reassurance fell on deaf ears. She wriggled again, turning her head toward the door as if sensing you on the other side. Her chubby hands clumsily batted at Heeseung’s jaw in protest, and she let out a frustrated wail.
He sighed, adjusting her in his arms and kissing her damp cheeks. “Come on, love, don’t cry. You’re breaking Dada’s heart here.”
She wasn’t buying it.
Heeseung carried her over to her bouncy seat, gently placing her down. He shook one of the attached rattles, the soft jingle momentarily catching her attention. “Look, isn’t this fun?” he said, his voice high and playful, trying to coax a smile.
But her lower lip wobbled dangerously, and a fat tear slipped down her cheek. She reached out for him, her tiny body tensing with the beginnings of another wail.
“Okay, okay!” Heeseung scooped her up again, cradling her close. “You don’t like that. Noted.” He grabbed Mr. Flopsy, her favourite stuffed bunny, and held it before her. “Look who’s here! It’s Mr. Flopsy!”
Her chubby hand grasped the bunny’s floppy ear for a second, but her teary eyes again darted toward the bedroom door. “Mama,” she hiccupped, her voice thick with longing.
Heeseung’s shoulders slumped. He pressed his lips to her temple, his voice soft and melodic as he began humming a random tune. The notes spilled from his lips, forming an improvised lullaby, gentle and soothing. “You’re my little bunny…my sweet baby girl…”
Her cries quieted just a bit, though her sniffles lingered. She curled into his chest, burying her head in the crook of his neck. He could feel the dampness of her tears soaking into his shirt, and it made his chest tighten.
“I’m trying, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I know you miss Mama. I miss her too.”
He rocked her slowly, swaying back and forth as he continued to hum. Every now and then, her little hands gripped his shirt, curling into the fabric as if anchoring herself to him.
When she let out another quiet whimper, Heeseung grabbed her teething toy and offered it to her. She gnawed on it momentarily before tossing it aside with a dissatisfied grunt.
“Mr. Flopsy’s better, huh?” Heeseung said, trying to keep his tone light despite the heaviness in his chest. He handed her the bunny again, and she hugged it to her chest this time.
But then, just as he thought she might settle, her tiny head tilted up to look at him with watery eyes. “Mama,” she whispered again, her voice so small and broken that it shattered him completely.
Heeseung closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers. “I know, baby. I know,” he said, his voice barely audible.
And when her quiet cries turned into a full-blown sob, he sank onto the couch, holding her tight and rocking her desperately.
The door creaked open, and you appeared, your face glowing with the softness of motherhood. “What’s going on here?” you asked gently, calming the room.
Your daughter’s head snapped up, and she let out a delighted cry, reaching for you with her pudgy arms. “Mama!”
Heeseung let out a breathy laugh, his eyes misty as he handed her to you. “She’s all yours,” he said softly, a tinge of defeat.
As your daughter nestled into your arms, her cries became soft hiccups. She clung to you like a lifeline, her little body finally relaxing.
Heeseung watched the two of you with a bittersweet smile. “Guess I still need to earn back my ‘Dada’ title,” he joked weakly.
You leaned over, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’re doing amazing, Hee,” you whispered. “She just misses me. But she loves you—you’re her world, too.”
And as Heeseung watched his little girl settle into your arms, he made a silent promise to himself: no matter how busy life got, he’d always make time for moments like these, even if it hurt sometimes. Because for his family, he’d do anything.
Heeseung leaned back on the couch, his head resting against the cushions as he watched you sway gently with your daughter in your arms. The tension in her little body had melted away entirely, replaced by the comfort only a mother could give. It was a sight that tugged at his heartstrings in ways he couldn’t quite describe.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low but weighted with emotion.
You glanced over at him, your brows knitting together. “Sorry for what, Hee?”
“For being gone so much. For missing out on moments like this. I don’t want her to feel like I’m just some guy who shows up when it’s convenient.”
Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice. You walked over to the couch, sinking beside him with your daughter still snuggled against your chest. Her eyelids were fluttering, sleep beginning to claim her.
“Hee,” you said softly, reaching to take his hand. “You’re not just ‘some guy.’ You’re her dad. And she knows you love her. Even if you can’t always be here physically, she feels it. I know she does.”
Heeseung released a shaky sigh, squeezing your hand as his gaze dropped to your daughter. Her tiny fingers were clutching the fabric of your shirt now, her breaths evening out as she drifted off.
“I just hate seeing her cry like that,” he admitted, his voice thick. “It makes me feel like I’m failing her.”
“You’re not failing her,” you reassured him firmly. “She’s just at that age where she’s clingy with me. It’s normal. But she adores you, Hee. You should’ve seen her excitement when you walked through the door today. Her whole face lit up.”
A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Really?”
“Really,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re her Dada. Her hero. And you’ll always have a special place in her heart, no matter how often you must be away.”
Heeseung exhaled slowly, his chest feeling a little lighter. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you and your sleeping daughter closer.
“I’ll try harder,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “To be here more. To make time. For both of you.”
“We know you’re doing your best,” you said, tilting your head to look at him. “But, Hee…you’re allowed to have bad days. You’re allowed to feel like this. Just don’t ever forget that we love you, okay?”
Heeseung swallowed hard, nodding as he kissed the top of your head. “I love you too,” he murmured. “Both of you.”
The room was quiet for a while, filled only with the soft sounds of your daughter’s breathing and the faint hum of the heater. Heeseung let himself soak in the moment, his heart swelling with love and longing.
“Do you think she’ll be okay with me putting her to bed tonight?” he asked after a while, his voice tentative.
You smiled, glancing down at your daughter’s peaceful face. “She’ll be more than okay. She’ll love it. You’ve just got to keep trying, Hee.”
“I will,” he said, determination lacing his tone.
As the two of you sat there, cocooned in the warmth of your little family, Heeseung realized that while being a dad might not always be easy, it was the most rewarding role he’d ever had. And he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
Dinner was a quiet but cozy affair. The scent of your home-cooked meal wafted through the air, mingling with the warmth of being together as a family. Your daughter sat snugly in her high chair, secured with her little bib, her chubby legs kicking softly beneath the tray. She was positioned perfectly between you and Heeseung, her wide eyes darting between you as if deciding who to focus on.
You were slowly eating your food, occasionally glancing over at the baby. Her meal—a bowl of pureed carrots and sweet potatoes—was warming up on the counter alongside her milky bottle. Heeseung, seated on her other side, was shovelling spoonfuls of food into his mouth, stealing glances at his daughter between bites.
“Alright, bunny,” Heeseung said softly, setting his chopsticks down and wiping his hands with a napkin. “Let’s see if you’re ready to eat, hmm?”
Her attention immediately shifted to him as he grabbed her food and bottle. She cooed softly, a bubbly sound that made Heeseung chuckle.
“Hang on, hang on. Dada’s getting it,” he murmured, quickly testing the temperature of her meal on his wrist before sitting back down.
He scooped up a tiny spoonful of the pureed food, his movements slow and gentle. “Okay, open up, sweetheart. Like this—ahh,” he demonstrated, opening his mouth wide exaggeratedly.
Your daughter blinked at him, then turned her head toward you with a curious little noise as if checking to see if you were watching.
You smirked, taking a sip of water. “Looks like she’s waiting for my approval.”
Heeseung groaned playfully, holding the spoon closer to her mouth. “Don’t be like this, bunny. Dada’s trying here.”
She finally turned back to him, her tiny lips parting slightly. Heeseung seized the moment, quickly sliding the spoon into her mouth. She blinked in surprise but didn’t spit it out, her little face scrunching up as she adjusted to the taste.
“There we go!” Heeseung cheered softly, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
You chuckled, watching as he scooped up another spoonful. “You’re a natural, Hee. She’s warming up to you again.”
Heeseung’s grin widened, his confidence growing as he offered her another bite. But this time, instead of taking the food immediately, she let out a happy little coo and turned back to you, her arms reaching out as if trying to climb across the tray.
“Mama,” she babbled, her voice filled with excitement.
“Oh, come on,” Heeseung groaned dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “I’m right here! Feeding you!”
You laughed, setting your fork down. “She’s just saying hi, Hee. Let her have her moment.”
He narrowed his eyes at you, but the playful glint in his gaze gave him away. “Hi? It's more like rubbing it in my face. Aren’t you, bunny?”
Your daughter cooed again as if agreeing. But this time, she turned back to Heeseung, her tiny hands slapping the tray excitedly.
“See? She’s still got Dada love in her,” you teased, taking another bite of your food.
Heeseung smiled softly, his eyes warm as he offered her another spoonful. “Yeah,” he murmured. “She’s just making me work for it.”
You watched as she leaned forward slightly, taking the food from him without hesitation this time. Her chubby cheeks wobbled as she chewed, her little noises of satisfaction making Heeseung’s smile stretch even more expansive.
“She’s a handful,” he said, glancing at you. “But she’s worth every second.”
You reached over, squeezing his free hand gently. “We both are,” you reminded him softly.
Heeseung looked at you, his expression filled with so much love it made your chest tighten. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “You both are.”
As the three of you sat together, sharing this simple but meaningful moment, Heeseung felt a sense of peace settle over him. This was his family—his home. And no matter how chaotic life got, this was the love he would always return to.
As Heeseung placed the spoon back into the bowl, he noticed the familiar signs. His daughter’s little hand started to bat at the empty tray, her face scrunching as a soft whine escaped her lips.
"Uh-oh," he muttered softly, his heart immediately going into overdrive. “You finished already, huh? Just a little more, baby…”
But she wasn’t having it. The whining grew into a louder fuss, her tiny legs kicking in protest as she squirmed in her high chair, her hands urgently reaching him.
“Okay, okay, I get it!” Heeseung chuckled nervously, glancing at you for reassurance. “She’s ready for her bottle. You’re growing too fast, bunny.”
You gave him a knowing smile, wiping your mouth as you leaned back. “I think she’s done with her dinner. Time for milky.”
Heeseung didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly unbuckled her from the high chair, easily scooping her up. She nestled her head against his shoulder, her face scrunching into a tiny pout as she continued to fuss, clearly tired but craving the comfort of her bottle.
“Shh, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” Heeseung cooed softly, cradling her against his chest. His hands gently cupped the back of her head, rocking her as he made his way to the living room.
You watched the scene unfold, your heart softening at the sight of Heeseung looking so natural with his daughter in his arms. Moments like these reminded you of how deeply he loved her, even if he had his own moments of self-doubt.
Heeseung settled onto the couch, carefully adjusting your daughter in his arms. He grabbed her bottle from the coffee table with practiced hands, ensuring the milk was at the right temperature.
“Here we go, bunny,” he murmured, gently guiding the bottle to her mouth.
Your daughter’s eyes fluttered closed as she lazily latched onto the bottle, her little fingers grasping at the soft fabric of his shirt. She was still fussy, but the comfort of being held by her father and the warm bottle quickly soothed her.
“Mm…” she hummed softly, her fussing slowly fading as she began drinking. Heeseung smiled, a deep sense of relief washing over him. His eyes softened as he gazed down at her, the light from the lamps casting a warm glow over her peaceful face.
“That’s it, little one,” he whispered. “Just relax now.”
You stood from the table, walking over to sit next to him. Your hand gently brushed through his hair as you smiled at the sight. “She’s finally calming down. You’re good at this, you know?”
Heeseung chuckled, glancing over at you with a tired but content smile. “I just don’t want to mess up,” he confessed quietly. “I don’t want her to feel like she’s not important, not enough.”
You softened, your heart aching for him. “She knows she’s important, Hee. You’re her world. She’s just a little fussy sometimes. It’s normal for babies, right?”
“Yeah…” Heeseung breathed out, his gaze flickering back down to their daughter. “It’s just so hard when she’s upset. I don’t want her to feel that way around me.”
“She won’t,” you said softly, reaching out to gently rub his back. “She trusts you, Hee. You’re the one she turns to when she needs comfort.”
Heeseung sighed deeply, watching as your daughter’s little body relaxed further in his arms, the soft sounds of her sucking filling the space.
“You’re right,” he whispered. “I just want to do everything I can for her.”
“She knows you’re doing your best,” you reassured him. “We all do.”
As you both sat there, watching her drift off into a peaceful slumber, the bond between father and daughter seemed to fill the room, quiet but undeniable. Heeseung may have been struggling with the weight of his responsibilities, but in that moment, as he held his baby girl in his arms, everything felt right.
You smiled, squeezing his hand. “She’ll always need you, Hee. You’re the best Dada she could have.”
Heeseung’s eyes met yours; his voice was soft and full of love. “And you’re the best mama.”
With a content sigh, he rested his head against the back of the couch, allowing the peaceful silence to wrap around the three of you. The soft sound of your daughter’s breathing filled the room, and for the first time in a while, Heeseung allowed himself to relax fully, knowing that this—this was everything.
The night had settled in, the soft hum of the house filling the silence as Heeseung carefully cradled his daughter in his arms. She had finished her bottle, her little belly full, and she seemed to be drifting off into a peaceful sleep, her small, warm body nestled against his chest. Heeseung smiled, feeling the weight of the day lift as he held her, the rhythmic sound of her breathing soothing him more than he expected.
Still, the task remained: putting her down for the night.
He hesitated momentarily, watching her delicate face, soft with sleep. Knowing how much she craved his warmth, his heart ached, but he also knew she needed to rest in her crib. He gently adjusted her in his arms, careful not to jostle her too much, and slowly made his way to her nursery.
As he reached the crib and carefully lowered her, her little face scrunched up instantly. Her tiny hands reached out, gripping at his shirt desperately as she whimpered softly, a frown pulling at her lips.
“No, no, baby, it’s okay,” Heeseung murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You need to sleep in your crib, okay? Dada’s right here…”
But his reassurances didn’t seem to work. The moment he pulled away, her tiny body tensed, her face scrunching as she let out a pitiful cry. Her little hands stretched out to him, her eyes filled with frustration and confusion.
Heeseung felt his chest tighten at the sound. He couldn’t bear to see her upset.
“Alright, alright,” he muttered to himself, his voice soft but firm as he scooped her back into his arms, holding her close. “I’ll let you sleep with me for a little longer. But you’ve got to sleep, okay, bunny?”
Immediately, her cries quieted as she was lifted back into his embrace. Her small, warm body melted back against his chest, her face instinctively snuggling into the crook of his neck.
“You just want your Dada, huh?” Heeseung whispered, his heart racing as he carefully rocked her back and forth. Her soft, even breaths against his skin told him all he needed to know. She was calm now, content with the warmth of his chest and his heartbeat's steady rhythm.
Heeseung’s heart swelled, knowing how much she craved the comfort only he could provide. He wasn’t sure if it was his warmth or the familiarity of his scent, but she always seemed to seek him out in those moments of need.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured, brushing his nose against her soft hair. “I’ll stay right here. You’re safe with me.”
He walked around the room slowly, letting her snuggle deeper into him. His own body felt the pull of exhaustion, the weight of his daughter in his arms grounding him to the present.
“Maybe tomorrow we’ll try again,” he whispered, his voice soft and affectionate. “But for tonight… you, mama, and me, okay? Just us.”
She cooed, her tiny hands curling around the fabric of his shirt as she snuggled deeper, her face hidden against him. The smell of milk and baby lotion lingered on her skin, and Heeseung closed his eyes for a moment, letting the peacefulness of the moment wash over him.
As he gently rocked her, his thoughts drifted back to the chaos of his idol life, the long hours and the never-ending demands. But at that moment, with his daughter tucked safely in his arms, Heeseung couldn’t imagine a perfect place to be.
He sat on the rocking chair in the nursery, his daughter still nestled against him, and allowed himself to relax fully. This was his world now. And no matter how busy life got, he knew that the feel of her tiny body in his arms and her breath's softness against his chest was worth every second.
As she slowly drifted off to sleep, her tiny body curled against his warmth, Heeseung realized he would never take these moments for granted. Even when the world felt overwhelming, this little family—his family—was the home he had always craved.
As Heeseung gently rocked her in his arms, a sudden, soft sound interrupted the quiet of the nursery.
💨
His eyebrows shot up, and his lips twitched as he tried to suppress a laugh.
Another one followed.
💨 💨
“Oh, no…” Heeseung muttered under his breath, though the corners of his mouth quirked upward. “You’re relaxed now, huh, bunny?”
His daughter let out a content sigh, utterly unaware of the symphony of sleepy farts escaping her. She snuggled deeper into his chest, her tiny hand gripping his shirt as if to say, I’m not done using you as a pillow yet, Dada.
💨 💨 💨
Heeseung blinked, now fully laughing under his breath. “Okay, that was a loud one,” he said softly, glancing down at her with wide eyes. “You went all in, didn’t you?”
She stirred slightly, letting out a small, sleepy whimper, but quickly settled again as he patted her back.
“Don’t worry, bunny,” Heeseung whispered, his voice laced with amusement. “I’m not going anywhere. Even if you’re out here clearing the room.”
The telltale smell started to waft up, and Heeseung winced, his nose crinkling as he realized what he was in for.
“Oh, I knew it,” he groaned quietly, though his heart softened as he looked down at her. “You didn’t just fall asleep; you went all the way, huh? Dada’s got a full cleanup waiting for him now.”
He sat there momentarily, contemplating whether to wake her to change her diaper or wait until she was in a deeper sleep. But when she shifted in his arms, letting out one final 💨 and settling again peacefully, Heeseung sighed too, shaking his head.
“Alright, bunny,” he murmured. “We’ll wait a few more minutes. I’m letting you rest but after this? You and I are taking a trip to the changing table.”
He leaned back in the rocking chair, letting her stay snuggled against him for a bit longer. Despite the impending diaper duty, he couldn’t help but smile. These moments—messy, funny, and heartwarming—made it all worthwhile.
As she let out another soft sigh against his chest, Heeseung closed his eyes, enjoying the calm before the (diaper) storm.
Heeseung carefully laid her down on the changing table, his hands moving with practiced ease as he reached for the supplies—a clean diaper, baby wipes, and a fresh onesie.
“Alright, bunny,” he whispered, brushing her hair away from her forehead as she let out a tiny, sleepy coo. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re going to feel so much better after this.”
She blinked at him, her eyes fluttering open momentarily before she let out a little sigh, completely trusting her dada to take care of her.
As Heeseung undid her soiled diaper, she squirmed slightly, her chubby arms stretching upward to remind him, Hey, I’m still here.
“I know, I know,” he chuckled, grabbing a baby wipe and getting to work. “Just hang in there, princess. Dada’s almost done.”
She let out another soft coo, her lips puckering as if she were trying to protest but was too sleepy to commit to it.
Once her bottom was clean, Heeseung swiftly placed the fresh diaper under her, securing it snugly around her waist.
“There we go,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her tummy. “Nice and fresh. Just one more step, bunny—your onesie.”
He grabbed the soft, pastel-coloured onesie with little bunnies printed on it—her favourite, or so he liked to believe. He gently slid it under her, guiding her arms into the sleeves without much trouble. But the moment he reached for her chunky legs, the real challenge began.
She kicked out, her legs moving like tiny pistons as he tried to guide them into the leg sleeves.
“Whoa, okay, I get it!” Heeseung said, laughing under his breath. “You’re not a fan of bedtime fashion, huh?”
But she wasn’t listening. Her little legs continued to kick, her toes wiggling defiantly as if she were making it her mission to keep him from completing his task.
“Alright, little ninja,” he muttered, gently but firmly grabbing one of her legs. “You’ve left me no choice.”
He managed to slip one chubby leg into the sleeve, grinning triumphantly. “Gotcha! One down, one to go.”
But as he reached for her other leg, she wiggled even more, letting out a determined squeal that made him laugh even harder.
“You’re not making this easy, bunny,” Heeseung said, shaking his head as he caught her other leg. “But Dada always wins. Remember that.”
With one swift motion, he guided her second leg into the sleeve, finally zipping up the onesie and securing it. He sat back with a dramatic sigh, pretending to wipe sweat from his forehead.
“There,” he said, looking down at her with a playful grin. “All done. You fought hard, but I’m still undefeated.”
She stared up at him, her big, sleepy eyes wide with curiosity. And then, as if to reward him for his efforts, she let out a soft, gurgling giggle, her tiny hands reaching up toward his face.
“Oh, now you’re laughing?” Heeseung teased, scooping her into his arms and pressing a flurry of kisses to her chubby cheeks. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”
She let out another happy coo, snuggling into his chest as her little body relaxed again.
“Time for bed, bunny,” he whispered, swaying gently as he carried her back toward the rocking chair. “No more kicking, okay? Dada needs a break.”
As he settled back into the chair, her soft breaths began to slow, her eyelids growing heavier by the second. Heeseung let out a content sigh, feeling the day's weight fade away as she drifted off in his arms again.
And even though his body was tired and his mind was worn, he couldn’t help but smile. Because in moments like this, with his baby girl tucked safely against him, everything felt exactly as it should be.
Heeseung stood in front of her crib, swaying gently with her in his arms. His mind was already weighing the risks of another attempt to lay her down. She was so peaceful now, her little face pressed into his chest, her tiny breaths warm against his neck. He could feel the slight rise and fall of her belly and hear her soft sighs as she snuggled closer.
“Alright, bunny,” he whispered, his voice so quiet it was barely audible. “This is the last try, okay? You’ve got to sleep in your bed tonight. Dada needs some rest, too.”
With painstaking care, he began lowering her toward the crib. He had it all planned: gently settle her down, pull away slowly, and tiptoe out like a stealth ninja. But the moment her back touched the mattress, her tiny body tensed.
Her eyes didn’t even open; instead, she let out a whimper and immediately clutched at his shirt, her little fingers curling into the fabric with surprising strength. Her face scrunched up in protest, her lip quivering, and Heeseung froze.
“Bunny…” he started, but it was too late. A soft, pitiful cry escaped her, her tiny fists tightening their grip on his shirt as if to say, You’re not leaving me, Dada.
Heeseung sighed, defeated, gently pulling her back into his arms. Her cries stopped instantly, and she melted into him like butter, her little head tucked perfectly into the crook of his neck.
“Oh, so it’s like that, huh?” he murmured, kissing her soft hair. “You just want to stay glued to Dada all night.”
She responded with a sleepy coo, her tiny hand patting his chest to reassure him, Yes, exactly that.
Heeseung chuckled, shaking his head as he walked toward your shared bedroom. “Looks like I’m out of options. Oh well, bunny. Hope mama has some space for you in the bed.”
He nudged the door quietly, finding you sprawled out on your side, fast asleep. The soft glow of the nightlight bathed the room in a warm light, and Heeseung smiled at the sight of you, your peaceful expression a stark contrast to the chaos he’d been juggling all evening.
He approached the bed carefully, cradling your velcro baby in one arm while pulling back the blanket with the other. He climbed in slowly, settling beside you as he adjusted the baby between you.
“Alright, bunny,” he whispered, stroking her back as she snuggled closer to his chest. “Looks like it’s a family sleepover tonight.”
She let out a soft sigh, her tiny hand curling around his thumb as she finally fell into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.
Heeseung looked over at you, watching how your chest rose and fell with steady breaths, and he felt a wave of calm wash over him. It didn’t matter how exhausting or unpredictable the day had been—this was his happiness.
As his eyelids grew heavy, he leaned over to kiss your forehead gently, then one to the top of his baby girl’s head.
“Goodnight, my girls,” he whispered, letting himself finally relax, the weight of his world safely nestled on either side of him.
And with that, the three of you drifted off into the kind of sleep only a family wrapped in love could find.
Heeseung waited a little longer, his arm cradling her securely as her tiny body grew heavier and heavier with sleep. Her breathing slowed to that soft, rhythmic hum that told him she was finally in a deep slumber. Her little hand, which had been clutching his shirt moments ago, now lay limp against his chest.
“Okay, bunny,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Let’s try this one last time.”
With careful precision, he shifted her in his arms, her head resting against his palm as he gently leaned over to place her in the baby bassinet cushion crib nestled between you two. He kept his movements slow as if the slightest noise or jolt might undo all the effort it had taken to get her to this peaceful state.
Finally, she settled into the soft bedding, her tiny body curling slightly as he adjusted her position for comfort. Heeseung crouched beside her momentarily, watching to see if she would stir, but she didn’t. Instead, her mouth opened slightly, as it always did when wholly relaxed.
He smiled softly, reaching for her pacifier on the bedside table. He gently slipped it into her mouth, watching as she instinctively began to suckle, the motion soothing even in her sleep.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his tender voice almost cracked.
Next, he grabbed her little blankie—the one she always needed to sleep with—and tucked it snugly around her, ensuring it wasn’t too tight. Her favourite stuffed bunny, Mr. Flopsy, was placed right next to her, its floppy ears brushing her tiny hand.
“There you go, bunny,” Heeseung whispered, brushing a finger lightly over her soft cheek. “All warm and cozy now. Sweet dreams.”
Satisfied, he eased himself back into bed, careful not to make sudden movements. He glanced at you, still fast asleep, and sighed a sigh of relief.
Finally, as he lay on his back, his head sinking into the pillow, he allowed himself a moment to breathe. The sight of your baby girl, peaceful and safe in her little bassinet between you, made all the day's exhaustion disappear.
He reached over to lightly brush a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek for a moment before he whispered, “She’s finally asleep. You’ve got some competition, though—she might love my chest more than you.”
He chuckled softly before closing his eyes, his hand resting protectively near the bassinet. As the three of you shared the quiet, serene night, Heeseung drifted off with a smile and a whole heart.
The room was still and quiet, save for the gentle hum of the nightlight and the soft, rhythmic breaths coming from your baby girl. Heeseung’s arm instinctively stretched out to rest near her bassinet, like a protection barrier in his half-asleep state.
Minutes passed, and the peacefulness lulled him into a light sleep. But just as he began to drift deeper, a tiny sound pulled him back—a soft, muffled whimper.
His eyes fluttered open, and he turned his head toward the bassinet. Your baby had shifted slightly in her sleep, her pacifier slipping from her mouth. Her tiny face scrunched up, her lips forming the beginnings of a cry.
Heeseung sighed, already moving before the first sound could escape.
“Shhh, bunny, it’s okay,” he whispered, leaning over and gently popping the pacifier back in place. Her face relaxed almost immediately, and she let out a small, contented sigh.
Heeseung smiled tiredly, his hand resting lightly on her belly to reassure her. “You’ve got Dada wrapped around your little finger, you know that?” he murmured.
Settling back down, Heeseung cast a glance at you. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake, your exhaustion keeping you in a deep sleep. He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he looked back at his daughter.
“Just you and me again, huh?” he said under his breath, though his words were warm. “I guess you’re my alarm clock for the night.”
He lay back down but kept his eyes on her for a while longer, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the way her little hand clutched Mr. Flopsy even in her sleep.
And then, almost as if she could sense his gaze, she let out another tiny, sleepy coo, her head turning slightly toward his side of the bed.
Heeseung couldn’t help but smile, the kind of smile from the deepest part of his heart. He leaned over one last time, kissing her forehead softly.
“Goodnight, bunny,” he whispered. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
This time, when he lay back, sleep came easier. And as the quiet night stretched on, the three of you rested together—ideally in sync, perfectly complete.
The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stirred awake slowly, the cozy quiet of the morning wrapping around you like a blanket. Blinking a few times, you turned your head and saw a sight that swelled your heart.
Heeseung was fast asleep; his face turned toward the bassinet, his lips slightly parted in soft breaths. One arm was stretched protectively toward your baby, while the other was tucked under his head. The faintest shadow of exhaustion lingered on his features, but even in sleep, he looked peaceful.
You smiled softly, your gaze drifting to the bassinet. Your baby girl started to stir, her little legs kicking lightly under the blanket. Her pacifier bobbed as her mouth moved slightly, and you could tell she was moments away from waking fully.
Leaning over, you gently touched her chest, hoping to soothe her for a moment longer so Heeseung could rest. “Good morning, bunny,” you whispered, your voice full of love.
Her little eyes fluttered open, blinking against the soft light. She yawned, her arms stretching above her head in that adorably dramatic way she always did. You couldn’t help but smile at her sleepy antics.
“Did you keep Dada busy all night?” you asked softly, brushing a finger across her chubby cheek. She cooed in response, her eyes still half-lidded with sleep as she focused on you.
Carefully, you lifted her from the bassinet, cradling her against your chest. She was warm and soft, her tiny body curling into you as you rocked her gently. You glanced back at Heeseung, still sound asleep, and your heart ached at how hard he’d worked to care for her overnight.
“You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, you know,” you murmured to her, your lips brushing the top of her head.
She let out another small coo, her tiny hand reaching up to grab your shirt. You held her close, swaying gently as you moved to the rocking chair in the corner of the room.
For a while, you just sat there, holding her and watching the slow, steady rise and fall of Heeseung’s chest. It was a peaceful, perfect moment—the three of you together, wrapped in the quiet love of your little family.
As your baby girl started to wiggle, signalling her readiness for the day, Heeseung groaned softly, his head turning slightly on the pillow. His eyes cracked open, squinting in the morning light.
“Morning,” he murmured sleepily, his voice rough but warm. His gaze landed on you and the baby, and despite the fatigue in his eyes, a smile tugged at his lips.
“Good morning,” you whispered, your voice soft to not startle the baby. “She’s just waking up. You can sleep a little more if you want.”
Heeseung shook his head, pushing himself up on one elbow. “Nah, I’m up,” he said, his voice still laced with sleep. He reached out, his hand brushing over your baby’s tiny foot. “How’s my bunny this morning?”
She turned her head toward him at his voice, letting out a happy coo. He chuckled, exhaustion melting away as he leaned over to kiss her forehead.
“Looks like she’s ready for round two,” he said with a grin, sitting up fully. “What about you, Mama? You okay? Is our second bunny kicking too much?”
You nodded, your heart full as you watched him interact with her. “I’m good. Our bunnies can't wait to meet each other, hehe. She’s lucky to have you, you know.”
Heeseung looked at you, his eyes soft. “We’re both lucky,” he said, his voice sincere.
And as the morning unfolded, filled with tiny giggles, warm cuddles, and sleepy smiles, you couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest family in the world.
⋆˚࿔ introduction: a never ending series of drabbles of your time spent with heeseung! this includes your relationship phases from just a few months before dating until married life!
call it what you want (before dating): talk no snitching
my baby’s all mine (dating): birthday menstrual and him
where heeseung tries to keep you safe from all the harm that a closed-off cult community could do.
genre: cult community, coming of age kinda, folk a little, drama; religious abuse, cult religion, murder (implied), incest, polygamy, child marriage, exploitation of children, trauma, ptsd, sex briefly mentioned. + fluff
9k words.
00 i watched midsommar and a polish series abt some cult and i got inspired + enhas new album just fits this theme really good. not even proofread, bc i started writing it this afternoon so excuse any mistakes. english is also not my first language ;p
you never realised that something was wrong with how your family lived. after seventeen whole years, you never once came to the realisation that everything about this community was wrong. you never could've imagined that your parents, your family could lie about this place; especially not messiah yang.
living in a closed society inside the forest was normal, that's what you always thought. it was safe, normal and the only right way to live. the messiah ruled everything, he was like the big father to everyone - a real father to some. your parents were here before your birth, throughout all of your five younger sibling's lives too. you never knew anything else, you never imagined that there could be something other than this. other than living in white clothes, listening to preaching for hours, doing community work and praying to messiah yang. in the midst of your houses stood a tall, huge chapel - a holy place where the messiah, the 'god' of your community proclaimed the holy truths and his sacredness. everything was common, accessible to everyone in the community as long as they preached to messiah yang and listened to him. everything of need was there in the community - library with messiah's words of truth and wisdom, stalls with food, of course it was all free and shared. seamstresses sew all of the clothes for everyone and people were expected to take care of the animals, orchards and fields. kids had their own games and played with each other, every toy was available for them and whenever one of the members brought something new like an inflatable pool in the summer or a ball, everyone partake in it.
last sunday of the month was the time when when messiah would gather the crowd in his chapel and start his prayer, say a few wise words, make the community chant a few worships and then came the big moment for young adults. — wedding announcements. each time, messiah yang would pick two pairs to get married the following month, that's just how it always was. you'd sit there and listen to your friends, cousins get picked for marriage. sometimes the couple were two strangers that never even talked with each other before. but they accepted it nonetheless, move in together and start a family. there was no other way, that's just how it was and everyone took it easy, because everyone believed that that was right; this was a step closer to heaven.
this sunday was no different. you got dressed in your white, loose dress that the community gave out - everyone had the same clothes, because equality was holiness. your long hair was done in a braid by your younger sister and you prepared breakfast for your family before you headed out to the chapel. you sat in the same middle bench on the right side as every other time you came for the teachings. the prayer went by like usual, all of you chanted until your knees got bruised from kneeling on the cold, hard tiles.
"i had a vision, a very clear and delightful one. the holy spirit gave me the power to unite two people from this very crowd, to bring them together as one. my own, first born son; my pride and joy," — heeseung. he was the oldest son of messiah yang; because older sisters he had many. but the man seemed to really like heeseung the most out of all his kids for he was always so obedient, smart, knew everything about the religion his father created. "and the daughter of (your parents' names), y/n y/l/n."
you swore you thought you misheard. that maybe the echo of that big, open chapel brought the name wrong. but no, everyone turned to look at you with wide smiles and congratulations. your mother pushed you out of your seat to the front, where messiah yang invited both you and heeseung to stand before the crowd. your parents must've been proud beyond belief to see their daughter standing there, promised to marry the most important person's child; to be the wide of a holy man's son. you just felt ... weird. it was so sudden, but maybe the messiah's vision was correct. maybe you really were destined to be together with heeseung.
heeseung held your hand tightly, smiling at you softly. "it'll be okay."
and you smiled too. messiah yang kept saying something, prayers to your new marriage; some holy words of encouragement and wisdom. you were barely listening, your hand warm in heeseung's bigger palm and your eyes zeroed on your mother's happy face. you could do it, you saw every person in the community go through this exact thing with huge smiles and bigger faith - it was just marriage. you'd move in with heeseung and live a happy life, because his family was the most important one, the most holy and sacred. of course it would be okay.
you attended premarital teachings, or whatever messiah yang called it. just you, heeseung and the older man in the big, dark chapel. you had never seen it look that empty inside, the echo of his teachings ringing loudly through the walls and heavy benches. you and heeseung sat in the front, you on the right bench, he on the left one. his father stood between the rows, speaking loudly about purity, good family life, how you should behave and how many kids you should have and when. he said that your wedding would take place next week on a saturday, all necessary preparations had been already taken care of and you should just wait for this new chapter of your life. it was almost scary, listening to the preacher rant all about good and bad things; speaking, chanting, shouting at times just to get the right point across to your brain. you nodded gently, heeseung listened, nodding and praying vehemently to please his father the best he could.
he always kept distance. he needed to, because even looking at each other wrong before marriage was sinful between kids older than fifteen. and he didn't want you to get on the messiah's bad side by his fault, that would put you in danger and you'd look bad in the community's eyes. you were far too trusting, innocent to know the whole truth. you just believed what you were told by your parents. but since you had already been 'destined' to marry him, the least he could do was keep you safe as best as he knew how. he learned about his father's behaviours from very early age. how much he dismissed his sisters, his mother - she died because of the lack of real medicine; because messiah yang thought of himself as the ultimate healer. but she passed and in the next preaching, messiah yang said something that made heeseung physically ache inside "my wife had passed for she had lost her faith a long time ago. i believed that she was one of us, that she could be saved by me. i shall remind you not to doubt me or the power of the holy spirit speaking through me to you all. she died a sinner and in the day of final judgment, she will speak for her sins in hell." not a week later and he found a new wife, had another bunch of kids with her and made heeseung call her 'mother'.
heeseung could barely count or remember the amount of siblings he really had, and that was the first time after his mother's passing that he began doubting his father's whole 'holy' act. what could be so spiritual about not letting your own wife get real help? about bashing her in front of the whole community, after her passing? anytime heeseung was forced to pray, he would think about his mother and beg her to save him somehow. he wanted to read about something else than whatever his father produced on paper. upon studying the papers further, spending hours slumped over the various pages - none of it made sense. some sentences were the opposites of others, things were executed without any real reason given other than making people think only to obey the one and only messiah yang. heeseung knew that this was wrong. that there was something else behind the stone walls guarding the closed off community.
he knew that his father and all his most trusted members of the community were doing everything in their power not to let anyone in. only the ones who repented their sins and got baptised on the outside could be worthy of entering into this community. not any stranger, no one that could cause havoc or unfaithfulness in the members. but one day, maybe two years ago; half a year ago - he didn't really know, because no one was allowed to keep count of the days, years or hours inside the community. calendars, clocks or diaries weren't allowed for anyone other than messiah yang. but heeseung was sneaky. he knew how to keep a good facade in front of his father but what he really did was study all the flaws, problems and analyse. he kept a small stack of books in his room, one particularly important, because inside was shoved a calendar. he'd note the dates whenever he was sure that his father wouldn't look or the other kids wouldn't tell on him. he'd note wrote about his doubts, the unclear stuff in his father's teachings, how none of it was adding up in the end. and he made a note about the time when his father made him clean something in the attic of the chapel. he was just moving boxes and stacks around, searching for a cloth or something when he heard a commotion outside.
the members had long gone way to the orchards or fields, tended to the animals away from the chapel. he heard some voices - one definitely his father's, a few other that he didn't really recognise. creeping down the stairs, he stayed hidden while having a pretty clear view to the conversation happening downstairs. his father and his members stood there, accompanied by three strangers. the men were dressed in clothes different to the one's community members had - way more casual, dark colours and weird materials. they were arguing about something with heeseung's father, calling him names. they said something about a nearby city, and that moment stayed with heeseung.
there definitely was something other than this closed community. he never told anyone about his thoughts, notes or doubts. he couldn't. he would probably get hung on a cross if his father even sniffed him thinking incorrectly. he was the 'god's son, he needed to be as indoctrinated as a stupid lamb could be. exactly how you were.
the day of your wedding went by really fast. your wedding attire was loose and white too, it just resembled the everyday clothes all members wore. because tight clothes were sinful. your hair was tied into two long braids, both your heads were covered by flower crowns as you stood in front of everyone and prayed and promised everything messiah yang said. heeseung could barely say the words with straight face, because it was all so weird and kind of disgusting.
"no intimacy for reasons other than to bring more lives to this world and this community."
"keep each other's faith strong and unwavering."
"pray every day to thank god for bringing you two together."
"listen to your husband as he is to become your master to obey."
the way you just repeated the words with no problem whatsoever, your eyes trusting and full of faith was making heeseung feel bad for you. you really were a pretty girl, he had noticed you a few times before in passing; in the church or just around the community, but he never was allowed to interact with the opposite gender. now you were going to be his wife and all he could think about was not becoming like his father. you reminded him of his mother, the way she trusted that messiah yang would cure her illness because he was a god only to end up passing away in pain and being replaced, remember as a sinner by everyone. heeseung wanted to save himself from this hell, but now he had you to think about too.
they didn't even give you two any rings, just cut your long braids after the ceremony, leaving the hair unevenly falling over your shoulder blades. a symbol of your marital status changing. every married girl went through this in the community, because they couldn't afford to buy rings, so they made up stupid rules instead that would control the women. the men told him that he'd need to keep your hair and your free will short, whatever that meant. it wasn't funny to him at all, but he shot them a smile and a polite nod to keep the face in front of everyone. the food for the ceremony was prepared by the older women, with things that the community harvested and some people played instruments. after everything was said and done, came time for the real marriage stuff. your new house was too big for two people, probably given to you because heeseung's father told the others to move out 'to prove their faith' - as he always preached to justify his own selfish decisions and desires. and giving his son and his new wife a big house was one of them. besides, he thought that it would get filled with little kids in no time.
only heeseung didn't want to. upon moving in, he kept his distance from you for the first few days until you got comfortable enough with the new situation to reach out to him first. he'd sleep in another room and tell you to lie if anyone asked about your intimacy. he just didn't want to cause you any discomfort about sharing a bed and needed to take on the responsibilities of a wife at only seventeen. not that he was any older, but his life was way worse compared to yours and maybe that made him more mature early on. he was mostly busy helping his father like always, but on the times whenever you two were nearby or even alone, he always kept you close and in his eyesight. for safety. he thought that you were pretty, of course, and really enjoyed the times whenever he would get to hold your hands or kiss your forehead or your pink cheeks. he was fond of you the same way kids cared for cute animals; he needed to make you trust him for now. lakeside walks and saving you fruits from dinner seemed to do the job just fine.
you were his woman now, his wife to protect. so whenever all the people were supposed to work on the fields: watering, weeding out, harvesting in the scorching sun, heeseung would always double his work just to make it easier on you. you didn't need to get your hands too dirty or get tired from working. he also never let you climb up the higher ladder to pick up fruits. he knew that the other men weren't looking at him with respect, but they really disapprove of his behaviour towards you. you were his wife and needed to obey him; not be treated too nicely. but they way you smiled whenever he brought you tea or helped with cleaning dishes after dinner, was hard to dislike. he wanted to earn your trust and friendship, because you were delicate and precious to heeseung in a way. he saw that everything about messiah yang's old, strict rules and boundaries about marriage was wrong and he didn't want to participate in things like that. he needed your understanding and mutual respect to save you from this place.
then one night, he decided that it was time. heeseung sat you on the bed once he confirmed to himself that no one was nearby to lurk or overhear the things he wanted to confess. he closed the tall door and locked it securely. "can i tell you something? we're married and i want to be honest with you."
you looked quite spooked, that much as evident by how rigid your posture was and the way your eyes followed his every move closely. "yes, of course you can tell me."
"don't be scared, it's not like ... hm," he wondered on how to word this sore topic. he couldn't just say 'my father's lying' and expect you not to tell on him, because you seemed to be really deep in your faithfulness and beliefs in messiah yang's power. "i've always believed everything my father said, like everyone else here. but after my mother died ... she wasn't a sinner, she believed that my father could heal her. but what i'm saying is that he can't heal people. she died in pain and he told everyone that she lost faith, that wasn't the truth. and honestly, i don't think we're safe here, y/n." heeseung said it all really carefully, still a little scared of your reaction. you were his wife, but he wasn't sure if he could trust you fully with how brain-washed you had been for the past years.
"what do you mean? but—" you looked genuinely troubled, confused as your wide eyes roamed over his face in search of answers. he just said something so ... unexpected.
he didn't know any other way to explain than to simply show you all the notes he made, the dates and stuff he had gathered in secret. all laid out on the floor of your bedroom in the middle of the night, were flaws of his father's religion, mistakes he had made while creating the masterpiece of his life, the lies he said. all evidence was there, thorough analysis of the words, whole sentences or pages that weren't adding up at all. you spent until dusk looking at everything, reading the notes heeseung made and trying to wrap your head around the fact that messiah yang's own son was doubting his religion. by the time you finally looked up to heeseung, also sitting on the floor by now, it was already light outside again. "i don't understand."
"i know— i know that it's hard to understand. i know that it may seem hard to accept, but please, y/n. think about it. don't just blindly go and tell on me in the chapel, they'll send me for death in an instant. i believe that i am right in this, that there could be something more outside for us." he nearly pleaded, holding your hands tightly in his. he could very well just try to make you obey him like every man in the church would do to their wives, but he truly wanted you to understand and believe him. you were married now and he needed to save you from this place. he was always so gentle and soft-spoken towards you, respected you more than any man ever would.
so why would heeseung lie? but then, why would messiah yang lie? you were so confused that you felt like crying, because he was your husband and he was making you doubt your faith right now, which could potentially send you both straight to hell. heeseung saw the moment you started getting overwhelmed and gently moved over to hold you. his warm, long arms wrapped around your shaky form on the floor and he tried to calm you down. "don't cry. i know that you're overwhelmed and confused, but it's okay. we don't have to do anything about it, you just can't tell anyone. it'll be our secret, okay? i won't bring it up again."
you only quieted down when he helped you match your breathing to his long, stable one. he didn't expect the first talk about this to go over smoothly, but you seemed really untrusting of him, so he hid away the notes for the time being. the next time he tried to talk to you about the stuff happening inside the community, about some really messed up things like polygamy, people having no personal belongings and doing everything in their power to please the messiah's desires, you seemed a little more thoughtful, actually considering his words and trying to take everything in. still, you went to the chapel the next day. of course he went with you. not going would be a sin. but he saw the change happening in your eyes and felt hopeful.
"can i sleep in your room?" it was already dark outside, the two of you had gone to beds a long time ago; to your rooms on the opposite sides of the house. you stood in the doorway, the floorboards creaking underneath your bare feet when you dared to walk inside. you couldn't stop thinking about the things heeseung said lately and going to the chapel now, chanting prayers and listening to messiah yang's words left you feeling unsettled and uncomfortable. you couldn't sleep alone tonight.
"of course, come in." your husband sat up immediately, moving to the right side of the bed. he helped you get underneath the covers and held you close, his big arms enveloping your shaky silhouette gently. "don't think about it tonight, you're always safe with me."
"thank you."
having your own house, a locked room away from his father's watchful eye and having earned your trust, or at least your silence: heeseung could start gathering things. some clothes his father took away from new members and hid away - old jackets, some worn out boots or sweaters. he stored a backpack and grabbed a few leftover stuff from dinners or breakfasts to have just in case. his body was in a constant fight or flight mode, because he felt like he was being watched; like your lives were being monitored too closely and it was making him feel weird. he needed to be careful with his suspicions, his plans, so he only told you the most important things to open your eyes a little. but he didn't push you into taking on his beliefs, into rejecting messiah yang's words instantly, just let you figure it out for yourself for now. well, until he couldn't let you stay there for any longer. he knew well enough to by protecting you, he was only putting you in more danger, but he couldn't help himself.
since it had been three weeks after your wedding already and there were no signs of pregnancy in you - all the men and his father called heeseung in a meeting. no women allowed. because what they did was give him a long talk about bringing fresh souls to the community; giving life to new generations; the joys of fatherhood and how it kept wives in line. they talked and talked, prayed and prayed until the sun had set down a long time ago. while the chapel got darker and only the candle lights flickered, messiah yang spoke up. "i had a vision, my son. for the heavens have made a grave mistake in choosing your wife; she is a sinner. bring her to me tomorrow, i shall deal with her the right way and we ought to find you another wife, one full of faith and ready to bless us all with her ripeness."
heeseung's blood ran cold. what did he mean 'bring her to me'? a 'grave mistake'? that could only mean one thing, and not a good one. "father—"
"no!" the messiah cut heeseung off as soon as he could with a loud hiss. there was no questioning his words, ever, because he was speaking through god or something like that. "you ought to bring that dishonourable girl to me tomorrow and i'll repent for ever allowing her into my chapel, into my son's life!"
heeseung could only nod helplessly. he nodded through everything else too, putting on the front he had been holding for the last few years. a good, faithful and obedient son to the holy preacher of god's word. only the messiah was a self proclaimed 'god' that brain washed everyone into repeating his words until the end of their miserable lives. he knew exactly what would happen to you in the closed doors of the chapel if he brought you there to his father and all the men. he didn't even want to think about letting anyone harm you like that, you were too precious and dear to him now. which was why the moment the night fell and all doors were closed, candles blown and put away, when the community members were locked inside their houses, heeseung grabbed your arms with his shaky hands and spoke as clearly as he could. "listen to me now. we need to run."
"run?" you questioned instantly, because you had just been baking bread and your husband was telling you to run. his eyes were wide and serious, almost bloodshot with worry. the hold he had on your arms was painfully tight, shaky fingers digging into your skin. that alone should've told you how serious he was.
"yes. my father said that he had a vision, that you were a sinner. they're going to kill you, y/n. do you understand me? we need to run right now." he was nearly shaking your silhouette now, trying to make you understand the importance of the situation that you had fallen victim too .
"what? kill me? heeseung—" you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his words, but couldn't. he wouldn't lie, not about this. maybe he wasn't lying about anything. maybe his father really was the one lying instead. but the thought of having lived your whole life in a lie was a hard pill to swallow, one you didn't want to accept. it could be easier to pretend that your father had gone insane and was rebelling against his father, bringing you onto the dark side of doubting messiah yang.
"let's go! they're gonna be here first thing in the morning and we need to get out somehow. i won't let them harm you, but you need to believe me, y/n." he sounded more panicked than you were feeling, because he understood the full gravity of this situation. he had heard about things like that happening before, but the kids were always kept out of the loop of what was really happening in this community. he wasn't blaming you for behaving like you were, he couldn't, but he really needed you to listen. "you see the huge cross they put above the pond where he baptises members? they're probably gonna hang you there, because they think that you're a sinner. please—"
"okay. okay, i believe you. i really believe you, i don't wanna die." there were tears in your eyes and you started shaking too; shivers of fear spreading through your whole body at the horror of his words. you weren't sure if he was being a hundred perfect serious, but you could clearly see the huge cross from your window - and you didn't want to bleed out on that thing like some sacrifice for christ. you saw the signs your husband had been bringing to your attention lately; about how every member that couldn't be saved by messiah yang had been deemed a sinner, to have lost their faith which brought death over them.
"hey, hey, but don't cry. please. we need to be quiet about everything." heeseung could only take so much of your scared demeanour. he made sure to hug you long and tight enough that you would calm down enough for his plan to work out flawlessly.
"okay, okay." the second you agreed, heeseung moved in silence, but very quickly and efficiently. he put a long, dark jacket over his shoulders and shoved a sweater onto you; packed some foods and water into a small bag then grabbed your hand tightly in his and lead you out of the house. you were careful not to make any sounds in the night air. you only took the most important things, your clothes weren't yours, just loose pieces of white material sewn together to fit everyone the same but heeseung brought the colourful outerwear out of somewhere to shield you both from the cold. your legs were shaking like they were made out of gelatine, you held onto your husband's warm hand like it could save you from whatever harm was preying on you. you were scared, trying not to whimper loudly from holding in your cries of horror. you couldn't believe that you were running away from everything you knew, because your husband told you that your own community wanted to kill you now. he kept looking behind you two, tried to stay low in places where someone could possibly see the two runaways, but everything was empty and clearly. there was no real exit to simply walk out of this closed-off community, no way out of there that was accessible and wouldn't involve at least five men and very loud shuffling - which was out of the question entirely. but there was a place where the stone wall got worn down a little, and some community members stored their big barrels, crates there. when placed correctly, it was a staircase to the top. heeseung figured it out months ago.
"i'm gonna go first and you'll hold my hand. then i'll catch you, okay?" you didn't trust him at all right now. not when the stone wall was at least two metres high and you needed to climb some uneven, old crates to get to the top. and jump. but heeseung did it all so flawlessly, held out a hand to help you step on the barrels securely. you closed your eyes when jumping down the top, only to feel heeseung trying to relieve your fall ... you felt weirdly free, the cold air of the night breezing through your short hair and loose clothes. "i got you, i got you—" but then reality manifested itself on you and the two of you ended up falling to the grass, the nearby bushes amortised the fall only a little.
you were officially a sinner now. there was no way back there now. you were running away back from everything you knew, your home and family. you chose to believe heeseung, to bet everything on him being right about his father being a liar, about the religion being a sham full of evil intentions. if anything could bring you salvation and peace, it was running away from this place once and for all.
"let's go." once on the other side, heeseung didn't even give you any time to think or breathe. he just grabbed your hand again and started running through the woods, dragging you along. the boots he gave you were too big and made you stumble every other few steps, but at least they kept your feet from getting scratched by rocks or thorns underneath. your veins were pumping full of adrenaline, the rush and fear causing your legs to move faster, your hold on his hand to remain tight and you weren't losing breath nearly as fast as you usually did. the woods were dark and mysterious, but you two were set on running. no sounds even registered in your mind, not a snap of a twig, not the howls of some animals. you needed to run for your lives - especially now. once everyone found out that you two had left, they would probably look for you. so you needed to get as far away as you could before the sun rose again and his father would figure everything out. if someone found you both now, you'd be good as dead. it was crazy, how despite not being able to see anything clearly, having no real clue about what direction you were running to - none of you even caught a root or slammed into a tree, because the pure rush of horror kept you energised and focused enough to swiftly avoid any obstacle on the way. heeseung was practically dragging you after him, making sure to hold your fingers through his almost painfully tight and lead you somewhere safe. but where was 'safe'? you were in the middle of the woods, an unknown hectare of woods, bushes and wild animals. he was just desperate to never be found by those people again.
when your lungs were on the verge of giving out, you were just dragging your legs and there were tears in your eyes, heeseung stopped. "i think we're far enough. we can just walk now and find someplace to sleep." he looked at you with soft eyes, noticing how flushed your face looked and the way you panted heavily. of course he felt bad for making you run for who knows how many kilometres, but he couldn't just let them harm you. you were married; you were all he had now and letting you stay in the fucked up, closed community under messiah yang's dictatorship was not an option. running a hand through his messed up, sweaty hair, he dared to look back in the direction where the stone wall should be. it was long gone now, but the shrill of fear was still inside him, keeping him on edge.
you both sat down nearby a small stream of shallow water, side by side on a big fallen tree trunk. it was covered in moss by now, a little wet from the cold air of the night. after catching your breaths and regaining the feel in your legs, heeseung started making a fire to somehow get you to warm up. there weren't any fishes in the water to catch for food, so old, stale bread was it - you couldn't exactly be mad about it. at least he thought of bringing some food and getting you shoes and a chunky sweater beforehand. "i'm scared to sleep here. what if a bear eats us?"
heeseung looked up with a smile from where he kept trying to lit up a fire, the dull sound of rubbing twigs against each other the only sound between nature's echoes; hooting owls, rustle of leaves and footsteps of wild animals in distance. "that's why i'm trying to start a fire. animals stay away from that. and it'll keep us warm."
"oh, right." you nodded, smiling a little despite everything. it was strange, but at least you felt safer out here. with him. you didn't even know when exactly you felt asleep, the two of you cuddled up in a small open field between huge trees. but heeseung couldn't close his eyes or rest for long. he just kept you close to him, watching you doze off peacefully on his chest. he felt on edge, like he was still waiting on someone to come and try to find you. he needed to keep you safe and you were the safest in his arms, your head tucked into his jacket gently. he brought danger on you the moment his father married you two: his schemes, disloyalty to his father's religion, inability to force the schemes of an obedient wife and master husband on you from day one: it all became the reason why you got targeted. so he needed to shield you from all harm of messiah yang's made up religion. but what if he was dead wrong? what if he became your sin and you'd get hurt in the process?
after you woke up, he peeled some oranges he stored earlier for breakfast, and just kept handing you the small pieces as you two walked hand in hand. the forest was different when it was actually light - it was kind of peaceful actually. no rules, no weird rituals or sharing goods with everyone; you two were free now. "promise me you'll never believe in any religion ever. just believe in yourself."
"and us. i promise." he still had no idea where he was going he was leading you, but he was sure that they'd stumble upon a town eventually. that there was someone that could help you two. but you must've walked for two or three days straight now, with no sight of anything other than trees, fields or small streams. you agreed on following the water uphill, because maybe it would actually lead you somewhere. but the moment you were left with no food to suffice your all day long walks, you two obviously started getting weaker and less hopeful. your once pristine white clothes were stained with dirt of the forest, ragged at the bottoms and you definitely looked awful.
"i can't walk anymore, heeseung." you sighed, breathing deeply after having walked up half the way up some gigantic hill. your muscles were killing you and heeseung was just dragging you like some ragged doll. you had no strength left in you and it was beginning to get dark.
"come on, y/n. please, we'll have a clear view of everything on the top," the moment you saw his pleading expression, his steady hands helping you walk at a slower pace now. he was almost sure that if there wasn't a town on the top, at least you could probably see more of the forest to know where you should head now.
you really wanted to lay down and cry. you were starving and tired, you felt dirty and you were still scared of getting eaten by wolves in the dark woods. you didn't find a whole town, but a small wooden house. the doors were loose, but it was empty. you stormed inside, looking for some candles to lit up and food to eat. you made sure not to eat all the foods that were there; some canned soups, stale bread, pickled vegetables. "we should sleep here."
"mhm, it looks abandoned." heeseung found blankets and sheets for the small bed in the corner. you two sat huddled up underneath the heavy materials, enjoying pickled vegetables on the hard bread you found. it was still better than nothing. and there was a bed.
you were overwhelmed after eating, your empty stomaches finally getting something inside. it honestly felt like heaven, to eat something and sleep in a soft, warm bed, cuddled up to heeseung. you didn't realise that this could be classified as stealing someone's food and breaking in, because you truly lacked social skills and awareness that normal people had. it just felt good to finally have some sense of independence, to do whatever you wanted. even if it involved sleeping in a forest some days and eating someone else's old food. if that's what sin felt like, you didn't want to get into heaven at all. no prayer or sacrament ever brought heeseung as much peace and happiness as having you here did. he could finally sleep through the night without being on edge and worrying. your warm weight on his chest was comforting, he wanted to feel like that always. to make you feel secure and happy. he really didn't mean to drag you through the cold woods for days on end without food, he was simply really desperate to shield you from harm; to get you away from that community as soon as possible before they could kill you.
morning light streamed through the window and woke you two up. you were tangled in the sheets together, sweaty from dealing with sleeping in that small bed together and sharing warmth. "i don't wanna move." you shifted more into his arms, craving the peacefulness.
"i know. but we have to." he smiled at you, his lips finding your forehead on their own to plant a soft kiss there. he would've stayed with you anywhere you asked, just as long as you were content and taken care of. but he couldn't let you two stay here for long, not when this wasn't what he imagined for you. you needed real help, to get in contact with normal people, with a proper society that would free everyone from messiah yang's community. and staying here could potentially lead them to find you, which heeseung couldn't have. "let's eat breakfast, grab the food and one blanket. then we should go."
the next few days of walking were quite nice. you had pickled vegetables, matches, gathered berries on the way and even made friends with some small animals like a hedgehog and a young fawn. this part of the woods was less crowded by huge trees, it had more light and wasn't as scary. you held onto heeseung's hand tightly as you strolled between the nature's habitat. there were no expectations, no set times for chanting prayers on your knees for hours, no weird rituals and disappearances of members that were deemed unfaithful. it was just you and heeseung. you'd call this romantic, if you knew more vocabulary than what was written in books only approved by messiah yang. sleeping underneath the stars with one thick blanket and a faint bonfire lit up close by. just simple intimacy of being together, being safe and loving each other. maybe you didn't actually want to be found.
however, living in a forest like wild kids was a bad idea in the long run. no running water, no actually soft and comfortable bed to sleep on, no sufficient food supplies. it was nice, because you were together. but heeseung really needed to find the nearest town and tell everyone about the abuse, the lies and horrifying things that were going on at the closed off community in the middle of the woods. and thankfully, not long after, you two stumbled upon a forester, an older guy just roaming the woods to make sure that everything was in order. the confusion and utter horror he felt when he saw you two - clothes alone already signaling that you had came from a cult community, now all dirty and ragged from stumbling through the forest for days. two kids with nothing but a small bag of stolen food, blanket and you in boots too big.
"what happened to you, kids?" the man asked carefully, extending a hand in a declaration of peace.
"we need help." was all heeseung managed to say, shaking his hand tentatively while you stood behind him like a scaredy cat. the two of you looked exhausted and anxious, like some wild forest animals.
the forester man immediately brought you two to the sheriff in town. heeseung was scared of being fooled, of putting you in more danger, so he kept an arm around you for safety. you were his wife, he needed to protect you at all costs. he got you this far already, maybe people outside of the cult of messiah yang truly were different. everyone looked at you, worn out and dirty, like you were some sort of an attraction in town. they whispered, but still lead you to the office with the town's sheriff and got you some tissues and clean clothes. they weren't anything like what you were used to. instead of loose, thing white material you were put into jeans one size too big that were kinda stiff and a big shirt. heeseung got pretty much the same outfit, because it was all from the lost and found or whatever people donated to victims. anything was better than the dirty, wet clothes from before.
the two of you sat in a small room with warm tea refills and donuts, blankets pulled over your shoulders. heeseung took the time to explain everything thoroughly. the closed off community, all the lies, secrets, deceits, dictatorship and self-proclaimed spirituality. all the teenage marriages, multiple child brides and grooms, polygamy, murders, incests, schemes: everything came to light about the off-grid community that messiah yang operated. the sheriff wrote everything down and promised to take action as quickly as possible to uncover everything and free the people, to bring justice for messiah yang's victims.
"we think it's best that we place you in a shelter housing for now. it's especially made for victims of abuse, escapees from places like yours. would that be okay with you two?" one of the social services workers talked to the two of you in a gentle voice, trying to get you all the necessary help. you couldn't just live at a normal housing for teenagers, because you had gone through abnormal conditions and you didn't have any further education or social skills necessary to be a normal part of the society. "and i'm really sorry to inform you, but i'm gonna need to tell you that your marriage isn't valid. you got married unrightfully as kids, it wasn't registered anywhere. do you understand?"
"what? no, but we— that can't be right." you couldn't understand what she was saying, your grasp on heeseung's - your husband's arm tightening. what did she mean? you were together for so long, been through so much and you didn't trust anyone other than him.
"i'm sorry. but you two are just kids, we can't respect minors getting married."
and they decided that it would be best to separate you and heeseung. that your relationship would harm you more than help in getting used to living in a normal environment; your marriage wasn't valid, because you were seventeen. so they ended up moving you two to different towns after two weeks of you two sharing the same housing. once the whole cult community got exposed and they evacuated all the victims of messiah yang's abuse, they moved you two to different therapy and socialisation programs to help the progress.
"i'm just glad that you're finally safe. we'll meet again," heeseung walked into your room on the last night of your stay in the same place together. he grew really fond of you, cared about your wellbeing and he honestly got used to having you by his side by the time. you invited him to sleep with you, because he made you feel safe. you didn't want to leave him at all, you wanted to stay with him forever. he got you out of the hell you were stuck in and you really felt something for him. that night he kissed your forehead gently as a goodbye and promised that you'd be safe now, no matter what. even if he wasn't near to keep an eye on you - as long as you weren't in the vicinity of messiah yang, because he was serving life in jail, you would live a happy life.
"i ... don't know what it is, but you make me very safe and i don't want to leave. i think i love you."
"i love you too." you kissed him. your lips touched his just briefly, very gently. it was about the need of closeness, the shared warmth and safety. you didn't even know how to kiss, it was awkward and too soft to be considered as needy or sexual. you just wanted to kiss him, because it might be the last time that you were this close to him. you were really married in your heads. no matter how wrong it was to normal people, he was your husband. you remembered walking through the woods hand in hand, him holding you tightly all night long underneath the bright stars above. you had never felt anything like that, and probably never would again.
you cried all night in each other's embrace. if it was hard for you, it felt hundred times worse for heeseung. he never loved anyone other than his mother, he never even felt loved by anyone. his father was proud of him, but he wouldn't have called it love. it wasn't ever unconditional or certain, anything came with a price in the community you two were raised in. the more you prayed and obeyed, the more messiah yang would vouch for you in the day of god's final judgement. but you were so innocent and trusting, your relationship wasn't ever built on the rules of obedience or sexuality. you got close because he cared for you, he wanted to save you from the hell of his father's made up cult community, because he cared for you. because he was a good human. and you also cared for him, because he was so good to you. because you gave him the last piece of the orange when nothing else was left to eat. you trusted him with your life; let him take you away from all you knew, from your family and community.
maybe it was just some trauma bond that brought you two so close together in such a short amount of time. maybe the therapists were right to pull you two apart, to prohibit any contact between two very lost and traumatised kids that got put through some very mentally damaging practices of a deranged man that believed himself to be some holy spirit. heeseung never saw any of his other siblings, let alone you. it hurt really bad, but got dulled down with time passing, hours of therapy and socialisation. by the time he was twenty five, he was a normal person in a normal town. he moved a lot. to escape from the nightmares that still haunted him. he blamed himself for his father's actions. for all the innocent lives he took - his mother's especially. and he blamed himself for not putting a stop to it sooner; for not getting help earlier when he could. he knew about his father's lies from an early age, but only found it in himself to escape when your life got threatened. but what if you got married to another man? then you would've probably lived your whole life there, in the community, had kids and died like everyone else. he was still glad that he helped you escape. that he could be the reason that you felt safe, that you knew how it really felt to have someone take care of you. and you gave him that same feeling too, even if you didn't realise it at the time.
it was lonely, carrying the entire baggage by himself. the memories and nightmares kept him awake and in a constant state of anxiety. whenever he thought of you - his y/n, his wife, his chest would ache so deeply that it made him feel sick. he missed you so much that he wanted to pray, but there was nothing to pray to - he couldn't let himself believe in any artificial gods. you promised each other that you wouldn't ever start professing a faith in anything other than yourselves, that you would find each other someday eventually. he didn't know if you missed him, if you would even want to see him ever again in your life, but he needed to find you somehow. you were the reason he felt brave enough to run away and help everyone in the community; you were really the woman he loved. even if your marriage was too soon and too much, because you were expected to have kids at seventeen yet didn't even have a ring. the what if's were killing him, the unknown, uncertainty about how you were doing, what you were feeling, how you coped with the real world and your trauma. he needed to see you again, he sincerely regretted letting the people separate you back then. they didn't know anything.
the moment he finally saw you again, at a train station where you agreed to meet the week prior when he reached out to you, he nearly fell to his knees. you still looked like the girl he 'married' at seventeen; the one he run away with. your once bluntly cut hair have grown longer now, falling prettily over your back and you were definitely a woman now. you matured, grew up beautifully. seeing you now, at twenty five, he grasped just how little you were back then; thrown into marriage at seventeen by his own father. it was traumatic and he felt unsettled at the thought of possibly being intimate with you before like everyone wanted him to - good thing he respected you, kept boundaries. he would never have forgiven himself for being cruel to you previously when you were still so young and indoctrinated. "y/n!"
"heeseung—" you gasped in shock, running up to the man that stood before you. no longer a lanky teenager that made you break your faith and run away. he was taller, sharper, but his dark eyes still held the same softness when looking at you. you were wrapped up in each other's arms in no time, nothing else mattered now other than holding him. "i missed you."
"i missed you so much." he held the back of your head tightly, his hold almost shaky with emotion. he was whispering into your ear, his words blending into one as he started tearing up. "i thought you hated me— i'm so sorry about everything that happened, i should've done something"
"i could never hate you. i missed you so much, i wanted to see you again so bad. i love you, i still love you. it wasn't your fault." your words were spoken into his sweater, your fingers fisting the material over his back. you probably looked like two idiots, crying on a train's platform and declaring love without any social awareness.
"i love you, i love you so much. i missed my wife—" it wasn't heeseung's or yours fault that you got married as kids back then, you didn't blame him. you couldn't blame him for that, it wasn't his decision to make. but he made the decision to protect you, to get you out of the living hell safely and not to cross any weird boundaries that were established by the men in your community. you missed him too, missed having him by your side as your husband.
the authorities, therapists said that seeing each other would probably worsen your traumas, that it would deepen your post traumatic disorders, it could potentially send you into depression or some manic episodes. you grew into believing that when you'd see heeseung, if you ever would - all the nightmares would come back again with more power. that you would remember all the things you had to do in the community, all the times messiah yang would make you pray on your knees and chant his name in the chapel until everyone was stupidly indoctrinated to stop thinking and just start repeating. they said that if you ever heard heeseung's voice, you would be hit with the memories of when he begged you to run away, when he said that the people you trusted wanted to take your life.
but no. you and heeseung were just glad to see each other, to finally reunite as free people. you knew that you loved each other, despite how horrifying your whole lives were, how messed up your childhood was by messiah yang's delusions. he actually slept nicely for once when he was holding you again in his arms, like the time when you got married so young. it shouldn't have been a surprise that moved in together eventually and brought rightful wedding rings for the two of you. you didn't need any papers or a church wedding to love each other unconditionally. you still only believed in yourselves and the loved you shared; maybe in destiny too. not in anything else, never in the power of anything other than what brought you two together again. you didn't have much, because you never really went to normal schools, but you were happy. happiest you could feel, just because you two reunited again despite how your relationship had started.
"we're forever husband and wife. finally free, just us."
𖦹 in which heeseung has spent the last few years listening to other people’s hearts. yet he fails to listen to the one of the person who’s closest to him
🫀- doctor!heeseung x fem!reader - very very angsty - kinda dramatic - mentions of injuries + hospitals - eventual fluff - this is purely a work of fiction - wc: ~2.6k
notes!!- hellooo, this is based off a req so firstly thank you for that!! i can’t lie guys as creative as the title of the fic is it is absolutely not my doing so creds to elle for this!! anyways quick definition the title basically is like the technical term for listening to someone’s heart using a stethoscope soooo yeah, hope you enjoy!! likes + reblogs or anything appreciated!!
You knew the risks that came with dating a doctor when you and Heeseung had first gotten together. Sure it was amazing dating someone as intelligent and dedicated to career as him but sometimes that came at the expense of your relationship.
Heeseung was very committed to his job despite all the things that came as a consequence of it. Although he was frequently overworked, burnt out or simply just exhausted, he would always push through when it came to work, determined to still provide his patients with the best care possible.
However, at times it felt as though he took his anger, which was truly a culmination of all his stresses from work, out on you even though it wasn’t your fault. At first, he was better at expressing his emotions, better at telling you when he had a rough day at work and needed some alone time which you would always respect. But as of recently it felt like this wasn’t happening as much anymore.
Instead of actually having a conversation and allowing you to comfort and console him, he’d lash out at you when it all got too much. Obviously he never meant to direct his anger towards you but now because of this the two of you argued often.
Tonight didn’t seem to be an exception to this.
You’re in the kitchen preparing a dinner for you and Heeseung to share before he goes to work, when he walks in dawning his hospital attire. “Hee, I thought you weren’t at work until 7 tonight??” You look down at your watch confirming that it’s in fact still five o’clock and that you aren’t running late.
“Sorry sweetheart, i got called in early because of a massive influx of patients,” he gives you a sincere, apologetic look sensing that you’re upset about the rare time the two of you can spend together being interrupted.
“B-but I thought you said tonight we could finally have a few hours of peace to ourselves…just me and you. No work.”
Heeseung sighs, pulling you into his arms. He knows he isn’t the best at expressing his emotions but his heart breaks every time it feels like he’s sacrificing you for his job. “I know sweetheart, I know. But unfortunately the circumstances changed and these people could be really sick. They need me right now.”
That was true, but you also needed him right now. “God why did I have to end up dating someone more dedicated to their career than me. It’s annoying,” you swear it’s supposed to come off as a joke, that you said it in a sarcastic tone. But it doesn’t seem to land that way, instead it sounds more like a criticism or insult.
Immediately you feel Heeseung pull away slightly causing you to miss his warmth as the atmosphere shifts to a much colder one. “W-wait Hee I didn’t…I didn’t mean to say that. I-I’m so sorry…I-i don’t know…”
“You seriously think it’s annoying that I actually care about my job?! Y/N do you know how much effort to get where I am today??” No ‘sweetheart’, no other form of stupid name. You’d royally screwed up here. “You know how much of my life I gave up to go to medical school. So yeah I’d say I am pretty damn dedicated to this job, I’m sorry that’s an inconvenience to you.”
He begins to walk towards the door about to leave but you grab onto his wrist trying to stop him from doing so. “I-I’m sorry Hee…I am so sorry. I-I didnt mean it…I-“
“Y/N, I don’t have the time for an apology right now. I know you might not mean it but I have to go. There are patients who need me.”
Reluctantly, you let go of him and he walks out of the house, the door slamming coldly behind him. Leaving you and your tears of frustration alone in the now tense apartment.
🫀
Heeseung doesn’t let your argument get to him too much once he arrives at the hospital. Like he’d already stressed to you multiple times, there were patients who needed him and he couldn’t let something so silly affect the standard of care they received. So he pushed any thought about you or that incident out his mind, fully switching into professional mode.
He doesn’t bother to check up on you during his break despite the fact deep down he does feel rather guilty for leaving you at home alone in such an upset state. He knows that you never truly meant to hurt him. Sure this job was mentally draining for him but also for those close to him, sometimes because of it they were pushed to the side even when Heeseung wanted them to be close.
He’s quickly snapped out of his thoughts by the voice of his colleague next to him, “Heeseung we need you. Some idiot ran a red light a few blocks away, a pedestrian got hit. They’re being brought here now.”
Within seconds Heeseung shifts from worried boyfriend back into doctor mode. “What’s the ETA??” He asks, voice firm.
“When I last heard it was 5 minutes but that was around 3 minutes ago so they’ll be here any moment now.”
True to his colleagues prediction barely a minute later, the doors to the ER burst open and a gurney is wheeled in. “Female, early to mid twenties, multiple injuries but vitals are stable for now!!” The paramedic shouts over the chaos of doctors and nurses.
To most people for now would’ve been good, it meant nothing bad had happened just yet. But here it almost always meant something would happen shortly afterwards.
That’s when Heeseung catches a glimpse of it. The promise ring he’d bought you a few months ago for your birthday. The tiny, gold ring catches in the glint of the fluorescent hospital lights and that’s when it well and truly hits him.
The woman lying on this hospital bed right now, the one who he has to treat, it’s you. His girlfriend. The one who he hadn’t bothered to check up on even though he knew you were upset. But now here you were, fate had brought you back together in a cruel way rather than the reconciliation that Heeseung would’ve liked.
He shakes that thought away, pulling himself back into the present. ‘Just another patient’ he tries to tell himself. Except this wasn’t just another patient, this was his love, his sweetheart and now her life rests in his hands.
Normally you’d hate him for being this dedicated to his job, but now he has to, for you.
Again, he switches back into doctor mode again. “What’s her BP now??” He asks a nearby nurse as he moves to take control of the room.
“Dropping slightly but still stable.”
Heeseung nods and leans down by your head in the name of ‘standards checks’ before speaking to you, his voice inaudible to everyone else but your unconscious body. “Sweetheart I know you’re probably mad at me right now but do not pull anything stupid on me right now. For me to apologise I need you to be conscious and alive not in this state.”
God he feels like such an idiot. He imagines that if you could see him right now you’d probably start laughing at him for turning into such a big softie.
“Why would someone even go out at night in such dark clothes…” one of the interns comments to another. “Surely she must’ve had a death wish, there was no way anyone would be able to see her.”
Heeseung’s expression darkens, “Are you seriously blaming the victim rather than the imbecile who decided to run a red light and hit her?!” He snaps at them, “The both of you can get out. Evidently you’re here to gossip, not help people.”
“Are you sure you want them out of here?? They could be of use if we need more hands later on??” A nurse whispers, trying to reason with him.
He promptly shakes his head, “If we need more hands we’ll find capable ones instead of ones who do not take the care of our patients seriously.”
He promptly shakes his head, “If we need more hands we’ll find capable ones instead of ones who do not take the care of our patients seriously.”
“Possible internal bleeding…someone page surgery and tell them they need an OR.”
As you’re wheeled towards the operating room, Heeseung stays by your side for as long as physically possible until his credentials can’t allow him to proceed any further. He slides down the wall, face in his hands as the doors slam shut behind you.
🫀
It’s not until a couple hours later when someone finally emerges from the doors. Heeseung has been sitting there, waiting, the entire time. His colleagues don’t bother to question his disappearance—they could already tell from how protective he was being, that there was something between the two of you.
His friend, Jungwon, who also happens to be a surgeon approaches him. “Something up with you Hee?? You know that girl??”
Heeseung looks at him with teary eyes before nodding. “Yeah um…” he pauses trying to think of the correct way to phrase it. After all, your relationship had pretty much been a secret from everyone apart from your families. “Yeah um she’s my girlfriend.”
Jungwon’s eyes widen, “Shit man…I’m sorry. What even happened??”
“I-I don’t know…I got called into work again early today even though I’d promised we could finally have a bit of time to ourselves. We got into an argument because of it but…I had to be here and then I-I don’t know what happened after.”
“Guess the universe made you spend time together after all,” Jungwon murmurs before realising that’s probably not what Heeseung needs to hear at this moment.
The two of them sit in silence for a little while, only the sounds of the busy hospital occasionally breaking it before Jungwon speaks up again. “Well you didn’t hear this from me but…I heard they were taking her to room 203. The nurses up there like you so maybe they’ll let you stay up there even though it’s technically past visiting hours.”
For a second hope glimmers in Heeseung’s eyes as he pushes himself off the wall. “Thanks Jungwon!! I owe you one!!” He says before rushing off towards room 203.
When he finally reaches the room you’re supposedly in he pushes the door open cautiously, just in case Jungwon overheard the wrong room number. But luckily for Heeseung, Jungwon was in fact correct and the nurse who was checking on you swiftly moves aside once she realises your relationship.
Heeseung sinks down into the chair beside your bed. He takes your hand gently into his as though you're something delicate he’s scared to break. Carefully he adjusts his grip to make sure he doesn’t disturb any of the IV tubes in order to help you recover.
The entire situation felt unknown to him. Sure he was accustomed to seeing patients in this condition by now but not the one whom he loves most, you.
He sits there for hours and hours, tears silently falling from his eyes as he waits for you to finally awaken.
It’s not until around the middle of the night when you start to stir, the medication beginning to wear off is causing you to become increasingly uncomfortable and irritable. Before you’re fully awake and able to process where you are Heeseung has pressed the call button for a nurse.
“She needs some more pain meds…” he murmurs to the nurse who nods understandingly.
Despite the pain surging through your body you decide to make an attempt at sitting up instead of laying down. You feel a large, strong hand give you a small push back down onto the bed. “Sweetheart, it's me. Lie back down for me,” he soothes.
“Heeee?? That youuu?? I thought you were mad at meeee??” You slur, only slightly delirious from the pain medication.
He shakes his head, letting out a shaky breath as another tear rolls down his cheek. “No sweetheart I’m not mad…we can have this talk in the morning when you aren’t high out of your mind yeah??”
You gasp in offense, “I can’t be highhh!! You knowww I don’t do stuff like that silly!!”
His hand strokes your cheek tenderly, he manages to let out a watery chuckle at the fact you still have the same humour even in this state. “Right, silly me.”
The combination of the medication and just general exhaustion soon drags you back under into a deep, peaceful sleep. The nurse, who had been adjusting your medication, gives Heeseung a final sympathetic glance before exiting the room.
🫀
The next morning when you properly awaken for the first time since the accident, your entire body aches. It’s not the same sharp, stabbing pain that you vaguely remember being awoken by in the night but it still hurts.
Regardless of the pain you turn your head to see Heeseung slumped in the chair next to you. Still wearing his scrubs from the previous day, still clutching your hand in his.
You gingerly tap his hand wanting to wake him but also not startle him. When it doesn’t work after the first few tries you resort to making noise. “Heeeee,” you groan, your voice hoarse.
At the sound of your weak voice he wakes up almost instantly, scooting to the edge of his chair to be even closer with you. “Oh sweetheart…” he says, his voice already shaky again. Right now he wants nothing more than to embrace you in his arms.
“Hee,” you cough. “W-water please.”
Heeseung grabs the water bottle that one of the nurses had given him earlier on when they realised he had no intention to move from that seat until he had ensured you were okay. He tilts the water bottle up slightly, allowing you to drink easily without having to move too much. “Here. Take small sips, it should help your throat.”
Once your throat feels satisfied with the amount of water it’s received, Heeseung pulls the bottle away, placing it on a small table within your reach. “Never ever do anything like that ever again sweetheart. It scared the life out of me recognising your ring on that bloody gurney.”
“Sorryyyy. But then again I intended on going out for a walk to clear my head not to get hit by a car,” you defend.
“One of the interns said something about you and I genuinely almost lost it at them. I was so so scared of losing you sweetheart.”
You give a partially puzzled look, “So you aren’t mad at me anymore??”
Heeseung shakes his head, “Sweetheart seeing you like that it would be impossible to stay mad at you. Besides I eventually realised that you’d never mean it that way…and I get that work does take up a lot of my time but I would never ever put it over our relationship. I value that more than anything else in the world.”
“I guess I managed to find a loophole. You’re at work and now I’ve become your work aka your patient.”
“You’re unbelievable sweetheart.”
“Maybe,” you say with a shrug. “But I’m also yours.”
extra notes: can’t tell whether i love or hate this but leaning more towards love…
he loves it when you do. it’s as if his gloomy life brightened everytime your lips curved into a fond smile he always loved.
so it really wounds him to see you, alone in the library at 9 a.m. with furrowed eyebrows and a tiny frown.
your coffee still untouched, hands busy working on the keyboard, mouth muttering soft curse words.
he walks up and sat across from you. “good…morning?”
“bad.”
“yikes, what happened?”
you hands stopped, as you look at him. he tilts his head, a silent: what’s up? wanna spill?
sighing in defeat, you tap on the seat next to you. “come here and see.”
he immediately moves, and see that you’re working on your presentation slides for a phonetics lecture.
“see!”
“what am i seeing?”
“the slides.” you deadpanned, but he’s still not getting it. it looks perfectly fine in his eyes.
but he forgot you’re slightly sensitive with stuffs like designing, formatting. your eyes can immediately detect when something’s off.
“it’s wack.”
“excuse me?”
“my stupid teammate, urgh—can you imagine? i woke up to a completely different set of slides!” you grip your hair, shaking it with frustration.
heeseung softly took your hands to stop you, “don’t hurt yourself, tell me more?”
you look at him with a huff, “it’s…they changed the whole layout i set for the presentation, copy and paste shit and some of the points are gone—and used all these…stupid emoji stickers—it’s freaking distracting!”
heeseung frowns, that’s actually a valid reason to get angry—you’re presenting in a few hours.
“let me help,”
he slowly took the laptop from you and helped edit the slides to a slightly more minimalistic—not distracting—visual aid.
while he did that, you took a breather and drank your coffee.
“i checked it from my phone this morning waking up, but after seeing that monstrosity i immediately got ready and came here.” you complained, which he replied with soft hums signing that he’s listening, but he’s also focusing with the edits.
a few minutes later, he finished it. sliding the laptop back to you for touch ups and proofreading.
“i’m sorry,” you sigh, “i just hate it when people care more about their aesthetic slides, with elements and fun rather than academically, i just can already predict us getting marks off due to slides being too distracting.”
he smiles and pat your back, “hey it’s alright. you wanted the team to not mess up.”
“but it sounds like i’m bossy.”
“you kinda are.”
“say sorry.”
“see?”
you huff again and his grin widens.
“i’m joking, you’re just a perfectionist. a perfect perfectionist who cares too much about silly little things like formatting the paragraph to justified.”
“silly things that can lower my assessment score yeah.”
heeseung laughs, earning silent glares from others in the library.
“…i hate my teammates. can i tell you a secret?”
he hums, asking you to continue.
“if i can do it alone, i already would.”
he smiles, before turning to take something out from his bag.
two sandwiches. “i bet you stressed yourself so much you get one coffee and barely any breakfast.”
“don’t snitch on my team.”
“wouldn’t dare to. i’m always on your side, remember?”
