ㅤㅤ✿𝆬 𓂂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ⎯⎯⎯⎯ （ 𝗪𝗖 : 𝟭.𝟴𝗞 ）: husband! hee, married couple, preg. intimacy, belly worship, breast play, slow deep sex, creampie, praise kink, gentle dom, cockwarming, body adoration, fluffy smut, mutual climax, tender aftercare, mdni.
Just me... having to upload this all over again from scratch because, apparently, this stupid app has something personal against this specific post. I ended up deleting it just so I could repost it.
The soft amber glow from the bedside lamp spills across the sheets as Heeseung leans back against the headboard, his voice low and warm, carrying easily through the quiet room.
“Baby? Are you okay? You almost done in there? Need some help?” He hasn’t taken his eyes off the bathroom door since you disappeared behind it, anticipation humming under his skin. The air carries that quiet, intimate scent of late night : clean sheets, the faint trace of his body wash still clinging to his skin, and the warm, almost sweet undertone that’s started to bloom around you these last few months, something uniquely yours now that pregnancy has shifted every hormone and every breath.
“I'm here now, Mr. Impatient... Don't worry too much”. You step out in nothing but one of his oversized sleep shirts, the hem barely skimming the tops of your thighs, your rounded belly pushing gently against the soft cotton. The fabric is warm from your body heat, slightly damp at the small of your back where you’ve been restless.
Heeseung’s gaze instantly traces every changed curve of your body, dark eyes catching on the fuller swell of your breasts, the way your nipples press faintly against the shirt, the gentle rise and fall of your stomach with each breath.
“Hi, pretty mommy,” he murmurs, voice velvet-soft and already a little rough around the edges. He reaches for you immediately, palms open, patient, fingers long and warm. “C’mere, let me love you.”
You climb onto the bed carefully and he helps you every inch of the way, steadying your hips with gentle pressure, guiding you until you’re straddling his lap, your belly resting warm and heavy against the taut plane of his abdomen. The moment your weight settles he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours, a soft, shaky sound that fans hot across your collarbone.
“Just look at you, my goddess…” he breathes, fingers splaying reverently over the curve of your stomach. His palms are slightly calloused, the texture a familiar comfort as his thumbs stroke slow, worshipful arcs. You can feel the faint tremor in them. “You’re so gorgeous it hurts.”
You laugh quietly, a little shy, a little overwhelmed, the sound muffled against his shoulder. “I feel huge and heavy, by the way.”
“You’re perfect,” he corrects instantly, almost fierce about it. He leans in and presses the softest, lingering kiss just below your navel; lips warm and plush. Then another kiss a little higher, then another, until he’s nosing along the underside of your breast through the shirt, the heat of his mouth seeping through the thin cotton, making the fabric cling slightly where it dampens.
When you rock your hips just the tiniest bit, testing, the friction of him already half-hard beneath his boxers drags a low groan from his throat. His grip tightens on your waist, not to stop you, but to steady you, fingertips pressing just enough to leave the ghost of warmth behind.
“Tell me what feels good tonight, baby,” he whispers against your collarbone, voice rougher now, breath humid on your skin. “Anything you want, my love. Slow. Fast. Just grinding. Mouth or hands only. Whatever you need, I’m here.”
You cup his face, thumbs brushing the line of his cheekbones. His eyes are so dark, so liquid with adoration it makes your chest ache, pupils blown wide in the low light.
“Just you,” you say honestly. “Just… like this. Close to me and our babies.”
Heeseung makes a broken little sound in his throat, almost a whimper. He kisses you then, deep and unhurried, tongue sliding against yours slow and deliberate, tasting faintly of mint toothpaste and something more like him. One hand stays protectively cradling the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair, massaging your scalp in tiny circles. The other slips between your bodies. Long fingers find you already slick, swollen, sensitive from pregnancy hormones, and he groans into your mouth when he feels how ready you are, the sound vibrating against your lips.
“Always so wet for me,” he mumbles, circling your clit with featherlight pressure, just enough to make your thighs tremble and your breath catch in little hitches. The pads of his fingers are warm, slightly rough, gliding easily through your arousal. “Love feeling you like this… so full of me already, and still dripping.”
He doesn’t rush. He works you open with two fingers, slowly, curling gently against that spot that makes your breath hitch and your toes curl against the sheets. Every few strokes he pauses to kiss your throat, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, soft, open-mouthed presses that leave faint wet marks on your skin; whispering things like “So good for me” and “Love you so much” and “Can’t believe you’re carrying our twins,” each word punctuated by the soft, wet sound of his fingers moving inside you.
When you start to rock down onto his hand he pulls his fingers free, slick and shining in the lamplight, and guides himself to your entrance instead. The head of him nudges in : hot, velvet-smooth, already leaking a little, and you both freeze for a second, breathing hard, chests rising and falling together.
Heeseung’s forehead drops to yours, the tip of his nose brushing yours, sharing the same warm, uneven air. “Okay?”
You nod, fingers tangled in the hair at his nape, tugging just enough to feel him shiver. “Yeah, my love. Just… take it slow, please.”
He sinks in so carefully it’s almost torture. Every ridge, every inch, stretching you open with exquisite patience. You feel the subtle pulse of him inside you, the way he throbs once he’s fully seated. When he’s buried to the hilt he stills, arms wrapped around you, one hand between your shoulder blades, the other protectively curved over your belly like he’s shielding both of you. You can feel the rapid flutter of his heartbeat against your own, the slight sheen of sweat starting to gather at his temples. For a long minute you just stay like that, connected, full, hearts hammering against each other, the only sounds are your shared breathing and the faint rustle of sheets.
Then, with a soft, reverent murmur of “Let me see all of you, baby… I need to see my beautiful mommy and all her changes” he slides his hands under the hem of the oversized shirt, slowly peeling it up and off your body in one gentle tug.
The cool air kisses your overheated skin as he drops the fabric aside, his dark eyes drinking in every new curve, your heavy, swollen breasts with their hardening nipples, the full roundness of your belly cradling your twins, the soft stretch marks glowing faintly in the lamplight.
“Fuck… Being like this definitely suits you, babe. You're driving me crazy” he breathes, voice thick with awe and hunger, palms immediately rising to cup the weight of your breasts, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks until they tighten under his touch. He leans in and captures one nipple in his mouth, sucking slow and deep, tongue swirling warm and wet while his other hand kneads the soft flesh of the other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. The sensation shoots straight to your core, making you clench hard around his cock still buried inside you, and you can’t help the needy little whimper that escapes you.
You need him so badly it aches, more than just the fullness between your legs. Your hands fist in his hair, tugging him closer as you arch into his mouth, rocking your hips in tiny, desperate movements that drag his thick length against your walls and grind your clit against his pelvis.
“Heeseung… please,” you gasp against his lips when he finally pulls back from your breast with a wet pop, only to crash his mouth to yours again in a deeper, messier kiss; tongues sliding hot and urgent, sharing breathy moans while his hands keep groping and squeezing your breasts, thumbs flicking over the slick, spit-shined nipples. “I need you so much… feel so good, I can't get enough of you.”
He groans into the kiss, the sound raw and broken, hips starting to move in those deep, lazy thrust again, grinding up into you so the base of him presses right against your clit with every pass, dragging slow sparks of pleasure through your whole body while his mouth never leaves yours for long. He pulls back just enough to suck on your bottom lip, then dives back in, kissing you like he’s starving, like he can’t get close enough even buried to the hilt. The friction is perfect; silky heat, the way your wetness eases every glide, your breasts bouncing softly with each roll of his hips as he keeps groping them, pinching and soothing in turns.
“That’s my perfect girl… show me how much you need me,” he whispers hotly against your mouth between kisses, voice wrecked. “Ride me just like that, use me for you pleasure, baby, I’m all yours.”
It’s overwhelming, but safe, feels like home. You bury your face in his neck for a moment only to lift it again, chasing his lips for another deep, open-mouthed kiss, tongues tangling as you clench around him on purpose and feel him throb in response. He keeps the rhythm gentle but deeper now, grinding harder against your clit until the heat coils tight and bright behind your navel, your fingers digging into his shoulders, nails leaving faint crescent marks. When you start to shake he cradles the back of your head, keeps kissing your temple, your cheek, murmuring
“That’s it, let go for me, I’ve got you, my sweet angel.” over and over, voice wrecked and tender. You come with a soft, shattered cry, pulsing around him, walls fluttering, and he follows right after, quiet, wrecked, hips jerking once, twice, before he stills deep inside you, spilling hot and slow while he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the universe, a low, trembling groan muffled against your shoulder.
For a long time afterward he doesn’t pull out. He just keeps you wrapped around him, both arms around your back, chin tucked over your shoulder, breathing you in slow, deep inhales like he’s trying to memorize the exact scent of your skin right now. His fingers trace idle patterns over your lower back, soothing the faint ache that’s started to settle there from the extra weight.
“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers eventually, voice raw and quiet in the hush of the room. “Both of you. I love you”
You smile against his neck, sleepy and warm and so full of him, of his love, of the two little lives between you, the steady heartbeat you can feel fluttering faintly against your belly.
“Love you more, Hee” you mumble, words slurring with exhaustion and contentment.
He huffs the tiniest laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest into yours, and presses one last lingering kiss to your hair. “Not even possible, my love.”