Just a little set of imagines about Y/N and Heeseung.
Warning: FLUFFS AND SMUTS ahead!
REQUESTS: Open!
THIS IS BOOK 2. So, if you haven't read the first imagines book, I suggest you read it!
The smell of perfectly toasted bread and freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as you placed the last plate of breakfast on the table. Satisfied with your masterpiece—a breakfast fit for a prince—you glanced at the clock.
8:30 a.m.
Heeseung had a schedule at 10 a.m., and knowing him, he'd probably sleep until next week if no one woke him up.
You wiped your hands on your apron and made your way to the bedroom, your steps light and careful. The scene that greeted you almost made you abandon all sense of responsibility.
There he was, sprawled out on the bed like some ethereal deity blessed with the power of perfect sleep. His dark hair was adorably tousled, his face relaxed, and his lips parted slightly. The soft rise and fall of his chest were enough to make your heart flutter. Heeseung looked like a literal Bambi prince, and it was almost criminal to disturb him.
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Almost.
"Heeseung," you whispered, leaning down to gently ruffle his hair. "Time to get up. You've got a schedule."
No response.
You poked his cheek lightly. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Your kingdom awaits."
Still no response. Instead, he let out a small groan, which sounded suspiciously like a protest, and turned his face further into the pillow.
"Okay, you asked for it," you muttered under your breath, leaning in closer to shake his shoulder. But before you could even register what was happening, his arm shot out like a trap.
With one swift move, Heeseung wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you down onto the bed next to him.
"Hey!" you yelped, your words muffled as your face pressed against his chest.
"Shhh," he murmured groggily, his voice husky and deep from sleep. "Five more minutes."
"Five minutes? You have less than ninety minutes to get ready!" you squeaked, trying to wiggle free.
But your struggles only made him tighten his hold on you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin.
