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avenirdelight · 2 years ago

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Don’t Marry Him

Son Heungmin

Sonny finds out that his ex-girlfriend is getting married. She’s the love of his life so he can’t let her marry someone else. [Requested]

⚠️ Curse words

Nothing could have prepared Sonny for the thing Ben was telling him right now. It had been just a normal training day, and Sonny hadn’t had any inkling as to why Ben asked him to see him at the first team’s restaurant after training. Ben had said that he wanted to show Sonny something, but Sonny thought that maybe it was about the house Ben was planning to buy—they’d been discussing the property quite a lot since the one Ben was keen on was in the same area as Sonny’s.

But Sonny instantly felt his world crumbling down when Ben placed a piece of envelope in front of him. The soft colour with gold letters on it gave him a hint of what it might be, and Sonny felt like he was punched right on his gut when he read a familiar name on it.

“This arrived a couple days ago. I assume that you didn’t receive one, since you still looked… Fine and normal. You would’ve been exactly like this if you knew,” Ben said to Sonny, who looked like he was in a trance. “I’m sorry, Sonny, but Joey, my wife, and I thought you should know about this.”

Sonny gritted his teeth, eyes still locked into the envelope. His heart started beating so loud in his ears.

It was a beautiful invitation, Sonny had to admit. Papers in her favourite colour with gold letters, decorated with a ribbon in a darker shade, simple and sweet. It was just so her. But Sonny hated it, because it wasn’t his name beside hers on that wedding invitation.

“Look. I don’t approve of what you did to her. But I think you deserve another chance,” Ben continued as he leaned a bit more forward. Sonny still hadn’t moved an inch. “She’s a good person, Sonny. As her friend, I want the best for her. And I think that what she truly deserves is you. The best version of you.”

“But, Ben, she’s getting married.” Sonny said, stating the obvious, as if he was trying to convince himself that it was true. He leaned back on his chair, looking completely defeated. “See? She invited you and Joey, but not me. She doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. She’s made up her mind.”

“You still have the chance to change her mind. This is your very last chance.”

Sonny had ruined her life once. As much as he didn’t want to see the love of his life marrying someone that’s not him, wouldn’t he be the biggest prick on planet Earth if he did it all over again?

“Do you still love her?”

Sonny shifted uncomfortably in his seat and he let out a little chortle, his shoulders shrugged a little. He finally looked up and met Ben’s sharp eyes. “You know the answer. But obviously, she’s moved on. I can’t– I can’t do anything about it.”

“You can. I told you, this is your very last chance,” Ben said, emphasising the words so Sonny would really listen to him. “This is what I hate about you, mate.” Ben shook his head and let out a quite exasperated sigh. “You’re such a fucking coward when it comes to her. Haven’t you learned? Why can’t you just commit to the person and the relationship you want more than anything in your life? Do I really need to say this out loud for you?”

Ben wasn’t even being harsh, he was just stating the truth. Sonny’s relationship with her did not work out because he’d been an insecure coward. He’d made her go through everything but then he pushed her away and let her go just like that when she said that she wanted something more.

After the big break up, it hadn’t taken Sonny long until he realised that he’d made the biggest mistake in his life—mainly because Ben, Joey, and Dele reprimanded him for what he’d done—but even then, he’d been too scared to give her a proper explanation and apology. Everything had gotten too late because a few months later, Sonny heard from Ben that she was dating someone else. And it seemed like things had gotten way too late again for him now.

“Sorry, I don’t… I don’t know. I need time,” Sonny said in a timid voice. Trains of thoughts were clashing in his mind, and he didn’t like the uneasiness that had started to wrap him. “I mean, we don’t even know if she still loves me.”

That was his biggest question right now. She’d moved on from him rather fast, and it had not even been a year but she’d already decided to marry someone else. She obviously had forgotten everything about their past.

Ben let out another heavy sigh. “Believe me, she still does. It’s actually quite easy to see.” Ben suddenly stood up and tugged down the hem of his sweater, Sonny’s eyes followed his movement. “Sorry, I need to go. Promised my wife I’d pick her up from work. But, hey, if you need any help, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

Sonny slightly nodded before he dropped his gaze back to the wedding invitation.

“Sonny, I’m your best friend too. I want the best for you too, that’s why I’m doing this. I do think that you two are meant to be together.” Ben placed a hand on Sonny’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “But you will remain as her one fucking stupid ex-boyfriend for the rest of her life, unless you do something about it. And she’ll be a Mrs…” Ben paused, picked up the invitation from the table, and scanned it. “Miller. She’ll be Mrs. Miller in less than six weeks.”

Sonny visualised her first name and the groom’s last name in his mind, and the new name started to ring in his head. He wasn’t kidding if he said that he was getting a bit nauseous because of it.

“Go, Ben, don’t make your wife wait,” Sonny said as he looked up at his best friend and gave him a small sheepish smile. Ben patted his shoulder once more, before he said goodbye and left Sonny alone, with a completely conflicted heart and mind.

—

“You’re insane. Oh God, Sonny, you’re absolutely fucking crazy, are you out of your mind??”

Sonny lost count on how many times the combinations of those words—crazy, insane, out of your mind—had come out from her mouth for the past half an hour. He agreed, though, he was crazy for doing this. It made her really upset and angry, he’d never seen her like that before. Her sweet and lovely side was nowhere to be seen and honestly, Sonny didn’t blame her at all.

“You can’t just show up at my door and ask me for the impossible, Sonny. You– You never even tried to get me back, you never even tried to reach out after we broke up.”

“You were already dating him, I couldn’t suddenly come back, could I?”

“And you think that you can come back now? When there’s already a ring on my finger?” She sneered as she held up her hand and showed him the big shiny ring. “You had three months before I met him. But you never texted, you never called.”

“I’m sorry.” That was all Sonny could say. He’d given her a thousand of it today. He wanted her to know how sorry he was about everything—about the things he did and did not do.

“You’re lucky my fiancé is in Paris right now, he’d probably punch you in the face if he saw you here,” she said with a calmer tone. She was standing near the window with both hands on her hips. From the kitchen island where Sonny was leaning himself against, you could see the backyard outside and the purplish sky outside as the sun was about to set. “I actually really want to punch you in the face right now. God.”

She’d been pacing back and forth, but she’d stopped and was now looking directly at him, with eyes full of anger and hurt. Sonny gulped, but didn’t make the lump on his throat go away. He felt so guilty, and now hurt from seeing her looking hurt. Honestly, Sonny would actually let her punch and hit him as much as she wanted, if it could help her to forgive him and take him back.

“Sonny, you can’t just come in here and tell me not to get married.” Her voice was a bit shaky. A little bit of tears started to pool in her eyes, but she took a sharp deep breath to shake them off. “After breaking my heart like that and ten months of silence, you can’t just show up and expect me to take a step back again.”

“Have you? Have you really moved on? I’m sorry but… I think what we had was special. I can’t even forget about you even a little bit.”

She lightly chortled and shrugged. “I don’t think we don’t have to forget to move on,” she answered. “I mean, I’m lucky, I guess. I found someone who makes me see forward, and show me things out there, show me what I can have. Someone who makes it feel less painful when I think about things from the past.”

Once again Sonny felt his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. He hated to get reminded that he’d been replaced. That man was her future now and he was merely a dark shadow haunting her.

“Do you love him?”

Her eyes slightly widened. Sonny couldn’t believe it himself that he’d just blurted out the question, but he needed to be brave today to get answers. She chortled again as she folded her arms in front of her chest.

“Of course, I do. I’m going to marry him, Sonny,” she said. “Josh loves me. He treats me right, we understand each other. And he wants to commit to our relationship, that’s the most important thing. He’s not perfect, but… He’s always sure of what he wants. He wants me, and he wants to always work things out between us. He doesn’t give up on me, or on us. So if you or other people are wondering why I’m suddenly marrying him, that’s why.”

Basically, that man was everything that Sonny was not. That man gave her everything Sonny didn’t. And Sonny once again was reminded that he was a complete fool.

When they were dating, Sonny had been so insecure. He was not a ‘normal’ person who lived a ‘normal’ life. His job demanded so much of him, so at some point in their two-year relationship, he felt like he had become a man who couldn’t give and provide the things she deserved.

Sonny hadn’t been having the best season back then, he’d picked up a few injuries and hadn’t been performing well on the pitch. It reflected on his life off the pitch. He felt like he hadn’t been able to give her love and security. He couldn’t protect her himself, or be there for her when she needed him in rough days, or even give her his time for a little date.

So that was why, when she suddenly blurted out the words “maybe we should just get married” in their conversation one night, Sonny panicked and let his insecurity and fears eat him up. Even before they dated, Sonny knew that she dreamed of being married and building a family, and he felt like he couldn’t give her that anytime soon. So he slowly pushed her away and shut her out, which led to the break up.

The silence in the room was deafening. The words “I love you” were at the tip of Sonny’s tongue, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough to win back her heart. Sonny was not someone who likes to give promises; he didn’t want to convince her to get back with him with sweet words and empty promises. He was actually there right now just as someone who loved her more than anything in his life.

“We were fine, Sonny. It wasn’t perfect, but we were working things out, weren’t we?” she finally said, breaking the silence. “I was a bit stressed out, a bit upset because things were hard for us, but I was fine with it. Because I know since day one, that life with you will not be easy sometimes. And honestly, I liked it. I liked what we had, I wanted that hard life with you.”

Sonny listened to her carefully, as he felt his heart beating hard on his chest. Their eyes were locked into each other, and Sonny swore that tonight he wouldn’t look away from those beautiful eyes that she had.

“And I’m sorry, maybe at that time it wasn’t the right time to mention marriage. But I loved to imagine a future with you.” A faint smile grew on her face and her tone got a tad happier. “Being your wife, building a family, planning for life after your retirement one day… I imagined all that. You’d be a coach and I’d still come to watch the match even though you don’t play anymore. And you’d always be famous so we’d always have to have bodyguards with us when we go out on sneaky dates, even when we’re nearly forty. Maybe a couple of Son juniors would tag along…”

This time she didn’t stop the tears from falling from her eyes. And Sonny didn’t know what had gotten into him, but he walked towards her, and when he was close enough, he pulled her into his arms. At first he thought that she was going to reject him and push him, but a moment later he felt her melting into his embrace. Her body shook as she silently cried, and he let her as he kept hugging her.

“I want all of that for us. I want everything you wanted for us,” Sonny whispered to her ear.

“No. You can’t do this to me, Sonny, you can’t,” she mumbled to his shoulder in between her cries.

“I’m sorry, I have to. You’re the love of my life, I can’t let you marry someone else.” His voice started shaking as he felt the urge to cry. The feelings were getting overwhelming for him—the feeling of having her in her arms again, the feeling of possibly losing her forever. “I know you still love me. You feel the same, I can feel it. We belong to each other. Please.”

Sonny felt her gently pushing him, so he reluctantly loosened his arms.

“But I’m getting married in five weeks! We’ve paid for everything, the invitations are out, and I’ve just booked flight tickets for my parents, for God’s sake.” She looked up so she could clearly look at his face. “And I can’t break Josh’s heart, Sonny. He’s so fucking in love with me, it’s going to crush him.”

“But I’m the one you truly love.” It came out as a statement, not a question, because he was sure it was the truth. Ben was right, it was easy to see that she still loved him. She still looked at him the same way, touched him the same way. The connection between them was still very much there. “You loving him doesn’t stop you from wanting me. Him loving you doesn’t stop your pain of not being with me. I know because I feel it too.”

“Please, come back to me,” Sonny continued. “Life with me is still going to be hard. I hate making promises but I will now. I’ll believe more in myself. I’ll let you be there for me, for us. I’ll listen to you, I’ll tell you when I need you, I won’t push you away. I’ll give everything for us, no matter how hard things are.”

“You know it’s easier said than done…”

“I know. But please, give me a second chance to try. I can do everything. What I can’t do is see you with anyone else. Please,” Sonny begged, as he placed his hands on her waist and gave it a light squeeze. “Don’t marry him and get back to me.”

She let out a long sigh as her hands travelled to the back of his head. She caressed his hair like she’d used to, so gentle, so calming. “Oh, Sonny…” She said. Sonny closed his eyes, feeling himself melting into her touch. “You’re the best thing that I’ve ever had…”

Sonny’s heart skipped a beat. But to be the best thing she’d ever had was not enough for him. He wanted her more than anything, more than he’d ever been. He maybe still had a bit of insecurities and fears left deep down inside him, but he’d willing to fight them for her.

Today he’d presented her, maybe still not the best, but surely the most real and honest version of him, that he hadn’t shown her in a very long time. And if at the end of the night he rejected her and told him to go away, he honestly didn’t know what he’d do with his life.

—

“You ready for this?” Joey asked. They were on a balcony, looking down to the aisle and altar in the garden. The big day had come and Sonny had never felt so nervous in his life before—not for any North London derbies, not even for that Champions League final.

“Yeah,” Sonny simply shrugged as he took a sip from the glass of sparkling water he’d been holding. “Looks a bit cloudy today, innit? I hope it’s not going to rain.”

“Weather forecast says it’s going to get sunny in the next hour, so everything’s going to be fine,” Ben said from the bench he was sitting on. “However, I feel like the rain’s going to pour down from your eyes.”

“That is so lame,” Joey turned on his heels to look at Ben. Sonny just let out a chortle.

“Tell me he’s not going to weep, though. Look at him now, he looks like he could bawl his eyes out in any second.”

“You’re the worst friend. Sonny, isn’t he the worst friend?” Joey, who happened to stand between the two men, shifted his gaze back and forth. “What Sonny needs the most today is calm and comfort, and you’re not helping at all.”

“Well, I’ve helped a lot. He wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for me,” Ben defended himself. To be fair, Ben deserved some of the credits, so Sonny had to agree–he nodded his head in agreement. “See?”

Joey shook his head. “I do think I deserve some credits too, but whatever,” he commented. “I’m a bit hungry. Anyone wants to look for a quick bite?” He glanced at both men again.

“Yeah, I’ll go with you,” Ben said. But Sonny shook his head this time.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll stay here.”

After giving a pat on his shoulder, Joey left with Ben trailing behind him, leaving Sonny alone.

Today was going to be a life-changing one for Sonny. He was still processing his feelings and everything that was happening, and he was grateful that he had Ben and Joey who’d always been there for him, because he didn’t think he could go through this alone.

Sonny had made his mistakes. He could only regret it forever, but he’d realised that the most important thing was to appreciate what he had now. Everything that had happened had shaped him to be the man he was today, which was better than who he’d been yesterday.

Sonny was going to see her in an hour, in the most beautiful wedding dress that had ever been made—but it was mostly because she was the one who was wearing it. She’d be the most beautiful person on this island, and she’d walk that aisle gracefully, with her most gorgeous smile plastered on her face. And Sonny was going to be there witnessing it all.

And just maybe, by watching her being the happiest person in the world today, he could finally let those regrets go. Maybe it would be easier for him to forgive himself and take the next step. And finally, he could be the man that he wanted for her.

—

so...what do you think happened at the ending? do you think sonny is going to marry her or he just got invited to her wedding with josh? were ben and joe there at the venue as his groomsmen or were they all just guests at her wedding?🥹

i haven’t written in like 4 months and i thought that i’ve completely lost the ability to write, so i was surprised that i managed to write this. i hope you’re still interested in my writings because i might make a short comeback!😆

thank you so much for reading!🌟

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starrytheos · 3 months ago

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𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬 𝙖𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙚𝙩 | 𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗶𝗻 ৻ꪆ

moon: this is the first time i'm ever writing something like this, so...it's not going to be the best of content, i feel. the more i write though, hopefully the more i'll get better at it. nsfw content below the cut, obviously!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Heung-min is extremely conscious of your body, and especially mental state, after you’ve both come to completion. Sometimes, he pushes you really far in terms of scenes, or he’s just so pent up from the emotions of his most recent match that he is rough and demanding with his actions. His aftercare is very detailed, too. He cleans you up with the softest of touches, making sure there is no place that is still covered in his essence. He wipes you down with a warm, damp washcloth that isn’t too wet and at the perfect temperature to not send chills down your body. After that, he massages your sore joints in lotion and massage oils. While doing this, he leaves little kisses along your body, not to insinuate another round, but to just let you know that he’s there. That he has you, and that he loves you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

In terms of him, he loves his arms. This stems from the fact that he really enjoys holding you during sex, loves having you against a wall, where his arms flex and hold you ever so tightly. This also leans into one of his kinks. Dependency. He loves that you can feel dependent on him, that you trust him enough to put yourself in what can be seen as a dangerous position. You trust him not to drop you. Also, in a less sexual aspect and more sensual, he just loves carrying you anywhere and everywhere. If he isn’t busy, the most likely thing to find him doing is just holding you in his arms.

In terms of you, he finds everything about you staggeringly beautiful, but he is absolutely enamoured by your lips. He just can’t seem to get over the way they part ever so slightly when he first enters you, then the gap gets wider when hits that spot in you, it makes him feral. After a while, he just stares at them. He loves seeing them slick with spit, loves having them on him as well. To him, the feeling of your lips is something that not even the sweetest of nectars could compare to. When your lips connect, he swears he could come right there. It is such a euphoric feeling to him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He has to see it spilling out of you. To him, having his release creaming around his cock because he’s filled you so well is such an ego boost to him. Knowing that you’ve let him come so much in you, that your body just can’t hold it anymore? It gets him so riled up and ready to go again. Of course, if you don’t want his cum in you for any reason, he’d also love coming on your stomach, loves the way you gasp every time he takes his cock from you. The head a dark red, begging to let his release out. The feeling of his cum leaving him, and landing on you, the person he loves the most? God, he just really loves it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

While he’s on the road, he uses those sex toys that are basically a torso, you know the ones. He just gets so pent up being away from you, especially when he’s on international duty that he can’t help himself. When it gets late, and he’s left with his thoughts, he just goes to town on one of them. He’d never tell you this, as he finds it a bit embarrassing. But he quite literally creams the poor thing, thinking of you wrapped around him, your soft skin against his, your dainty arms wrapped around his wide shoulders. It just sends him basically ballistic in terms of his sexual desire for you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Heung-min is experienced, but only in a fling situation I think. To him, you’re the first relationship he has properly taken seriously. So while he does know how to use his body, he has done the majority of his exploration with you. For him, being in such a stable relationship like the one he has with you, made him comfortable enough to actually experiment and not just participate in simple vanilla sex. So, to begin with, he was a bit clumsy in his actions, but so were you. You were both learning what you like together, what kinks you wanted to incorporate in your sex life. To put it simply, he was experienced and inexperienced at the same time.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

His favourite position has to be missionary, as vanilla as it is. He loves having the emotional and physical connection that the position grants him, he can kiss you as much as he likes. He also loves how slow it can be, you can hold each other tightly, roam your hands over each other's bodies. It is a great de-stressor for him, it brings him back to reality, having you wrapped around him and arching your front into his fronts. A big pro for him, as well, is that he can easily take your breast into his mouth and suckle. He loves the intimacy of the act.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends, honestly. Sometimes, he can be silly, if he’s in a good mood, or if he’s trying to cheer you up. He won’t be overly goofy though, it would just be the occasional comment, an eskimo kiss here, a cheek bite there. Most of the time, though, he’s really serious. He wants to make sure you’re completely comfortable all the time, dedicating his being to your pleasure so he doesn’t tend to be silly. There are moments he is more serious than normal however, if he has pent up anger, or if he’s just tried because of the expectations thrown on him, he would retreat into your embrace, but it would be obvious he’s not in the mood for any jokes.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Given the fact that he’s a professional athlete, he’s bare under the arms and on his legs. He sometimes grows his stubble out, but it only lasts a few days before he shaves it all off again, so you really savour that carpet burn feeling of his stubble on the rare occasion that you do get it. In terms of his pubic area, I think he’s trimmed to the base, with a small patch of hair down there, so you don’t even really notice it even when you’ve swallowed him to the base and he’s kept you there to really savour the feeling of your mouth on him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Heung-min is an extreme romantic in any occasion, and this obviously extends to your sex life. He has to have his hands and lips on you in some form, no matter the place or position. For him, he needs to be affectionate during sex, it heightens his arousal and gets him going even more, I feel. Nibbles on your neck, long deep kisses, hands cradling your head, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples, he’s always intimately affectionate during the act. He gets even more so when you’ve reached your peaks, he can’t help himself. Right while you’re climaxing he always feels the need to kiss you deeply, his tongue reaching inside your mouth and caressing yours, playing with it, and just feeling you in another way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s really messy, like really really messy. He only masturbates while he’s away from you, so he’s unbelievably pent up with frustration that he starts and can’t bring himself to stop until he’s came at least 3 times, imagining that he’s filling you up, that you’re on his cock, and that it isn’t just his hand that he’s using to pleasure himself. He also really likes dragging himself to the edge and then denying himself an orgasm, times like these are when he doesn’t want to waste his cum on himself, he deems it only for you, so he denies himself until he can’t take it anymore and then he cums with such a force that it leaves him panting and almost mewling with pleasure.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As he loves filling you up, feeling you stuffed full with him, it isn’t surprising he has a breeding kink. He loves the idea of just having you full of him, mewling and moaning on his cock, and the idea of having children with you? It sets him off even more, he absolutely loves the risk of it. Of course, he knows his plan as of right now, no children until retirement, but the idea gets him so riled up and excited. He can’t wait to start that next chapter, and it is very obvious given how much he pumps you full sometimes. More keeps coming even though there isn’t anywhere else for his release to go, so he ends up with a thick creamy ring around the base of his cock, and that just makes him want to fill you up even more.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s very traditional in the fact that he enjoys sex in the bedroom the most. He loves the comfort it provides both of you, having you safe and comfortable in his soft sheets and pillows is such a turn on for him. Having you cradled in the safety that he’s provided to you feeds his ego immensely. Of course, he’s also known for taking you against walls, but that’s when his need reaches uncontainable levels, when he controls himself, his destination is always the bedroom.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You can just look at him in a soft way and he’d become feral. Everything about you tends to get him going, but especially on special occasions when he sees you all dressed up, he sometimes doesn’t want to leave the house and just wants to spend the evening with you, at home, just giving beautiful bliss to each other. He also seems to really enjoy seeing you in lingerie, it’s almost like you’re a sensual present for him to unwrap. He loves tracing the lace as it cups your breasts, frames your hips, and he loves running his fingers over your panty covered entrance. Nights like that are the more messy ones.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If there is one thing Heung-min definitely wouldn’t do it’s impact play. He absolutely loathes ever even entertaining the thought of giving you pain. He treats you like you’re a god and to him, hitting you with something is an absolute no go. He’s always receptive to experimenting, however this is the one thing he could never see himself doing. He much prefers being soft and sensual to you, not harsh and violent.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

While he loves when you swallow his cock, having your pretty lips stretched around his base always seems to get him going even more. He completely prefers having his mouth on your pussy, loves spending his time eating you out. He starts out slowly at first, soft kisses to your slit, and slow licks before he gets too excited and almost glues his face to your folds. He gets really messy too, a mixture of his saliva and your slick not only coating your inner thighs, but also his face. Heung-min just goes to town on you. Overstimulation is also something that happens all of the time, it comes from the fact that he can’t seem to bring himself away from you. You more often than not have to tug his hair to get him to come back to your face for messy kisses, instead of him having a feast on your core.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Heung-min is a real advocate for soft, slow, and sensual sex on his best days. He loves making you feel him, feel his motions, and feel his desire for you on an almost spiritual level. He finds it so much more romantic if you’re taking sex slowly, it lets him dedicate time to all of his favourite parts of you, being all of you. However, he has been known to go fast and rough on the odd occasion when he’s been pushed over the edge, either sexually or mentally. But he’ll always prioritise your comfort, no matter how fast he is going.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You and Heung-min have a reputation when it comes to late-night events for both Tottenham and the National Team. More often than not, at some point in the night, you have sneaked away to a dark corridor or a bathroom to have a quickie. When he gets alcohol in his system, he’s a lot more handsy and this leads to him touching you more and being rather physically affectionate in the company of his teammates. In plain terms, he loves them. He loves that both of you can’t control yourselves and end up craving each other so much that you can’t wait until you get home.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s completely fine with experimenting sexually as long as it’s done in a safe environment and that you both use a colour system, so he knows how to adjust what he’s doing or if he should just stop in general. As said before, there’s very few things he wouldn’t not try. But he’s preference has always been what’s seen as vanilla, as he knows that’s keeps you the safest during sex.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for quite a long time, at least 3 rounds, given his stamina levels in general. The rounds also aren’t short, he can push himself for hours. Which he doesn’t really tend to do as he likes to match his stamina to yours so as to not overwhelm you into overstimulating yourself too much. The two of you on a normal night tend to only go for the 1 round, but that doesn’t mean it’s boring or fast at all, quite the opposite actually.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Apart from when he’s masturbating, I think he doesn’t like using toys. Heung-min is prideful in his own abilities to overwhelm and pleasure you well enough all by himself, he doesn’t see the need for toys as an aid. This connects to his dependency kink as well, he loves that you feel dependent on him. I think if you two were to use toys in your sex life, he wouldn’t feel as fulfilled, almost like you weren’t completely dependent on him to give you pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Heung-min is quite the tease when he’s in a playful mood, and when he’s craving you a lot. He traces your entrance with his finger over your underwear, not even pushing against it, you just get a small shivering sensation through your body, and then he just pats your leg and goes off to do something else. Obviously, he wants you to want him as much as he wants you so by teasing you like this, he knows your energies will match when you actually engage each other sexually,

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn’t necessarily loud, but he does grunt a lot in your ear while he’s inside you. He also loves talking to you, whispering in your ear and biting it when he makes a particularly hard thrust that hits you in just the right spot. As he gets closer to the edge, he does start actually moaning, and babbling into your ear about how much he loves you. When he comes, it’s almost like he quietly mewls in your ear, but you’re too far gone as well that neither of you notice.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He gets absolutely feral when he feels you tug on his hair, be it when he’s between your legs or when he’s thrusting into you like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. It’s a blatant show that he’s always at your mercy and that you’re actually the one in control and it makes him just want to make you feel even more euphoric. Especially when he’s had a hard day, the sensation of you pulling his hair makes him let out such a loud grunt and then he just pounces on you like a lust demon.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Heung-min is around 8 inches in length with a considerable girth to him. You feel the burn when taking him into either your mouth or your pussy. He doesn’t have insane girth to the point it actively hurts but it’s a nice burn, it reminds you he’s there fully. He also has a slight curve to the left, which he uses to his advantage when ramming into you to hit your g-spot, which he loves to do very often. His tip also gets a very angry red when he’s being edged that almost makes you want to just suckle on it to soothe his pain, almost like an ice pop.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is insane. He can be ready to go wherever, whenever basically. It seems he can never get enough of you, if you’re ready to go, he’s ready to go, basically. It’s how much he wants you on a 24/7 basis that shocked you during the formative months of your relationship, when you were just getting to know each other’s desires.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Heung-min is usually awake for a good 30 minutes after you’ve been cleaned up and tucked into bed. He lays down with you in his arms and waits for you to fall asleep before he does. He likes knowing that you’ve been fully satisfied before he succumbs to his own exhaustion, another part of his dependency kink. Plus, he likes listening to your soft breaths and snores as a sort of lullaby, he finds it difficult to go to sleep without them now that he’s had them for so long.

#son heungmin #heungmin son #heung min son #son heung min #footballer x reader #son heung min fanfic #son heung min fic #son heung min one shot #son heung min imagine #son heung min scenario #son heung min x you #son heung min x reader #son heung min drabble #footballer x y/n #footballer imagine #football fanfic #footballer x you

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rvp32 · 2 months ago

Text

Falling for the Unknown

Karina x reader

length: 10K

Thank you so much msafterhours and kesujo for proofreading

The crowd surges with energy, the stadium shaking as Tottenham wins a corner kick. You shift in your seat, the weight of your brace tugging at your leg—a constant reminder that you should be out there on the football pitch, not watching from the stands. Your knee bounces restlessly, gripping them so tightly you're worried they'll snap. All you want is to be out there on the pitch. Not here, not like this, sidelined when every part of you is aching to play.

The seat next to you creaks, and someone slips into it. You glance over and see a woman wearing an oversized hoodie and a cap pulled low over her face. Despite her casual outfit, there’s an air about her—a presence that’s hard to miss. She offers a small nod and an even smaller smile, tucking herself in as though she hopes to disappear.

“Excuse me,” she murmurs, her voice soft but steady.

“No problem,” you reply, shifting slightly.

You try to refocus on the game, but something about her pulls at your attention, her quiet energy filling the space between you. When Son Heung Min takes possession and streaks down the pitch, she leans forward in her seat, her hands balling into excited fists.

“You’re rooting for Tottenham?” you ask, breaking the silence as a half-smile tugs at your lips.

Her focus flickers to you, and you catch the faint curve of a grin under the brim of her cap. “Not Tottenham. Heung Min Son. He’s from Korea. Same as me. Gotta cheer for my own.”

The way she says it—with pride, subtle but unmistakable—makes you smile. She feels familiar, though you can’t put your finger on why.

“Fair enough,” you say with a shrug. “Watching him is great and all, but I’d kill to be out there right now. Watching just isn’t the same when you know what it’s like to play.”

Her head tilts slightly as if she’s studying you. “You used to play?”

“Kind of,” you hedge, not wanting to make it a big deal. “I just... miss it, that’s all. The game. The rush. Being part of it.”

You glance back at her to find her watching you, curious but unreadable.

“You didn’t tell me your name,” she says, her tone casual but pointed.

"Oh, right," you reply, then tell her your name. She repeats it to you and offers a smile and a hand. Her grip is warm but firm, and her smile is understated, but you notice it all the same.

"I'm Jimin"

Her name rolls over you like a mystery, simple yet layered. You get the feeling there’s more to her than meets the eye. And maybe, just maybe, she’s thinking the same thing about you.

The match kicks into high gear, and with every near miss or botched pass, the tension grows. You're so focused on the play that you almost miss the low chuckle beside you.

“Are they trying to lose possession?” Jimin says, biting back a grin as one of United’s midfielders gets dispossessed in a sloppy tackle.

You lean back in mock offense, shaking your head. “Bold words for someone cheering for a team that’s about to concede.”

She gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “How dare you! Tottenham has been flawless today.”

“Flawless? Did we watch the same first half? Pretty sure Son had a one-on-one and managed to kick it straight at the keeper.”

“That was strategy,” she counters, narrowing her eyes playfully. “He was… throwing the keeper off for the next one.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Ah, of course. Miss on purpose to make him overconfident. Genius.”

She smirks, rolling her eyes but not bothering to defend her logic. You find yourself grinning despite yourself. For someone so discreet, she’s got a lively, quick wit that keeps you on your toes.

A few minutes later, one of your defenders attempts a clearance and shanks it straight up into the air. Tottenham pounces on the mistake, but the shot flies well over the bar.

Jimin lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh. “See, that’s what happens when you make fun of Son. Karma works fast.”

“Yeah?” you reply, gesturing at the field. “Looks to me like karma hit your team there. Did that shot even stay in the stadium?”

Her laugh is soft but genuine, bubbling out before she can stop herself. “Okay, that was bad,” she admits, still giggling. “Maybe they’re tired from carrying the match.”

“Carrying? You mean carrying the ball to their goal line?”

Her jaw drops, and for a second, you’re sure she’s trying to come up with a comeback. Instead, she lightly nudges your arm with her elbow, a mock scolding gesture. “You’re mean.”

“I’m honest.” You grin, glancing sideways at her. She’s not looking at the field now, but at you, her face slightly hidden beneath her cap, her expression amused but softer than before.

As the game heats up, you both start reacting in sync—wincing at close calls and groaning when your respective teams miss chances. But there’s a lightness in your shared frustrations, and the banter flows naturally.

When United fumbles an easy counterattack, you drop your head into your hands. “Are we playing with our shoelaces tied together?”

Jimin bursts out laughing, practically leaning into you. “At least they’re consistent! I feel like this could be a comedy show.”

Moments later, Tottenham fluffs a promising free kick, sending the ball soaring into the stands. You glance at her and deadpan, “Your turn. What was that, a field goal attempt?”

She stares at the pitch, lips pressed together in an attempt to look serious, but the edges of her mouth twitch. “I have no explanation,” she says, shaking her head. “Let’s just say they’re… being humble.”

“Humble?”

“Yes,” she nods confidently. “They’re giving United false hope before destroying them.”

“Destroying themselves, maybe.”

You nudge her with your elbow this time, and the spark of challenge in her eyes is enough to tell you she’s about to retort. Before she can, the crowd erupts as United forces a save from Tottenham’s keeper. Both of you pause, swept up in the thrill of the moment.

When the noise dies down, Jimin grins at you. “Okay, fine. Your team has their moments.”

“You mean ‘moment,’ singular,” you reply. “We’ve only had one good play.”

She tilts her head, lips pursed. “You’re more self-aware than I expected.”

“Why, thank you,” you shoot back.

The words hang there for a second, easy but charged. She laughs softly, looking back at the pitch. It’s not much, just a small moment shared between two people in a stadium full of thousands. But somehow, it feels significant.

The final whistle blows and the stadium erupts into a medley of cheers and groans, depending on which side the fans were on. You barely notice. The game could’ve ended an hour ago for all you care. Your thoughts are preoccupied with the woman sitting next to you, the one who somehow turned a frustrating day on the sidelines into something you’re reluctant to let go of.

Jimin stretches her arms lazily, a satisfied grin on her face as the players begin to shake hands on the pitch. “Well, that was fun,” she says, pulling her hoodie tighter. “Stressful, but fun.”

“Speak for yourself,” you tease, gesturing to your team trudging off the field. “I’ve aged ten years watching that mess.”

She laughs, the sound genuine, and you can’t help but smile back. For someone who made such an effort to stay inconspicuous, she’d become the center of your focus. Her easy banter, quick wit, and that occasional spark of mischief made the ninety minutes flash by faster than you thought possible.

People start to filter out of the stands, and you glance at the growing exodus with a sudden pang of panic. You don’t want to leave, at least not before figuring out how to see her again. But how do you ask without sounding like… well, a complete idiot?

“Thanks for keeping me entertained,” you say, testing the waters. “I was worried I’d spend the night sulking, but you made it bearable.”

“Bearable?” she repeats, pretending to be offended. “What a glowing compliment.”

“Fine, you made it… slightly enjoyable,” you say, grinning.

She narrows her eyes at you but lets it slide, standing and dusting imaginary lint off her hoodie. “Well, I’m glad I could brighten up your very exciting night of sitting still.”

You watch as she adjusts her cap, clearly preparing to leave, and the urgency spikes. Your chance is slipping away, and your tongue feels like it’s made of lead.

“Hey,” you blurt out awkwardly, and she pauses, looking at you expectantly. You scramble to keep your tone light. “So… do you, uh, give your number to people who survived watching their team crash and burn?”

Her eyebrows lift in surprise, and for a split second, you worry you’ve blown it. But then a small, amused smile plays at her lips.

“Survived, huh?” she echoes, reaching for her phone. “You make a compelling case.”

Your heart jumps as she taps her screen and then holds it out toward you. You quickly input your number and save it. “I’m putting myself down as ‘The Entertained.’ Just so you don’t forget,” you say, trying to hide your nerves with humor.

She laughs softly, tucking the phone back into her hoodie pocket. “I’ll make sure I remember.”

As she starts to step away, she pauses and turns back to you, her expression thoughtful. “By the way, there’s this bar at The Lowry Hotel. Quiet, discreet, nice atmosphere. If you’re free tonight…”

Her words hang in the air, the invitation surprising but undeniably deliberate.

You blink, processing her suggestion as quickly as you can without looking like a complete idiot. “I… yeah, I’d like that,” you manage, your voice betraying the excitement you’re trying to keep in check.

“Good,” she says, her smile small but somehow brighter than the stadium lights. “Meet me there around eight?”

You nod, trying to play it cool despite the fact your heart is doing somersaults. “I’ll be there.”

She gives you a quick wave before disappearing into the dispersing crowd, leaving you sitting there with a racing pulse, a saved number, and a strange feeling that maybe tonight isn’t over just yet.

The crowd thins, the noise of the stadium fading into the background, but your thoughts are anything but quiet. Jimin’s parting words linger in your mind, looping like a highlight reel: Meet me there around eight. You’ve been invited to a lot of things over the years—interviews, parties, sponsorship deals—but this? This felt different.

You finally make your way to the dressing room, joining your teammates. Their banter is loud and animated, dissecting the game’s highs and lows, but you’re barely tuned in. A couple of them throw curious glances your way, probably picking up on your distracted demeanor, but you brush it off with noncommittal smiles and nods. The injury already drew enough unwanted sympathy; you weren’t about to add, “Oh, by the way, I met someone incredible in the stands tonight” into the mix.

After a quick round of goodbyes, you head home, the familiar comfort of your flat both a relief and a source of frustration. Tonight’s meeting looms, and for the first time in ages, you’re genuinely nervous.

Standing in front of your wardrobe, you stare blankly at the options. Button-ups feel too formal, but a hoodie seems too casual. And then there’s the crutch—practical, necessary, and ruining the aesthetic of every potential outfit you try to piece together. You sigh, slumping onto the edge of your bed.

“This shouldn’t be this hard,” you mutter to yourself. But it is.

It’s not just about the clothes. The pressure comes from how rare this feels—how rare she feels. She didn’t look at you like everyone else does, with that glimmer of recognition that usually comes just before the questions, the assumptions, the offers to take a picture. She laughed at your jokes, called you out when you were being cheeky, and for a while, you forgot about the brace around your leg and the ache of not playing.

There’s no way she knew who you were, right? She didn’t talk about goals or rivalries or the usual clichés you’ve grown used to hearing. She felt really—interested in you, not your career or your reputation.

You rub your hands over your face, both excited and nervous. It had been years since anyone made you feel that way. Fame had a way of isolating you, creating a chasm between you and the rest of the world. But Jimin? She didn’t feel like the world—she felt like the bridge you didn’t know you needed.

You glance at the clock: 6:45 p.m. The thought of being late tightens your chest, but the idea of overthinking and over-dressing makes you groan. Standing again, you sift through the closet with a new goal in mind—keep it simple.

Finally, you settle on a clean, dark jacket over a simple shirt, jeans that fit just right, and comfortable shoes that won’t make your crutch feel more awkward than it already does. There’s no denying the crutch complicates things, but for the first time, it feels secondary. Your nerves don’t come from the injury or how people might stare—they come from the thought of seeing her again.

You glance in the mirror and adjust your jacket. It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough. And besides, she already liked you enough to invite you out. Maybe tonight, for once, it’s not about appearances but the connection you hadn’t dared to hope for.

The excitement bubbles under your skin, tempered by discomfort but impossible to ignore. As you grab your keys and head out the door, you can’t stop thinking about the moment she smiled at you and said Good. Tonight felt like it could be something more than just another night—and you couldn’t wait to see if that was true.

The Lowry’s bar hums with gentle, quiet energy as you settle into your seat at the counter, the clink of glassware and a low murmur of voices in the background blending in an almost soothing way. You take in the surroundings—a few scattered patrons, cozy lighting—and fiddle with the cocktail napkin beneath your old fashioned, trying to distract yourself from the small knot of nerves that keeps tightening in your stomach.

You hadn’t realized how tense you’d been until the moment you sat down here, waiting. The minutes crawl by and your mind begins to overthink everything. What if she changes her mind and doesn’t show up? What if she realized inviting you out was a mistake? The simple thought twists something deep inside you.

But just as you’re about to take your first sip, a hand grazes your shoulder—light and gentle, like an electric jolt that cuts through the sea of your anxious thoughts. You snap your head around, and there she is—standing before you, an effortless beauty.

She’s dressed in an emerald shirt dress, and the way the light hits it gives the fabric a liquid shine that you can’t help but notice. The rich green hue complements her fair skin, and the dress moves gracefully with her every motion. It fits perfectly, cinched just enough at the waist to highlight her figure. The sleeves fall delicately, and there’s a small slit along one side that catches your eye as she shifts her weight. Her long black hair tumbles over one shoulder in soft waves, framing her face in a way that somehow makes her seem even more striking than when you first met.

Her look is confident, but she doesn’t radiate the usual celebrity vibe—there's no over-the-top flair or pretense. She seems grounded, accessible, someone who isn’t caught up in her appearance, even though it’s clear she could make heads turn effortlessly. As she takes the seat beside you, there’s no sign of the usual guarded behavior of someone used to the spotlight. In that moment, she’s just another person you’re meeting—and it’s oddly refreshing.

“You didn’t have to wait this long,” she teases with a soft, playful smile, her eyes warm with that casual, no-pressure charm. “Were you worried I’d bail?”

You can’t help but feel a little more at ease. “Not at all,” you reply, brushing away the thought of being stood up. “I just got here early.”

She chuckles a sound that immediately sets you even more at ease. “You're definitely on time. I, on the other hand, maybe took my time getting ready.” She taps her fingers on the bar and grins, looking slightly sheepish, though the confidence never fully fades from her presence.

You look her up and down, no longer trying to ignore how stunning she looks in that dress. You take in the way she’s carrying herself without even trying too hard, and for the first time in what feels like a long while, you feel normal sitting beside someone.

“You look great,” you finally manage, your voice softer than you intend, surprised by how genuine your compliment comes across. She didn’t need any fanfare, no show of luxuries or grand gestures—she just is.

“Thanks,” she says, slightly flustered but masking it with a small shrug. “I figured this dress would be fine for a restaurant of this level.”

“I was trying to look decent, too,” you joke. “But I wasn’t sure what ‘decent’ meant in this situation.”

She laughs, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “That makes two of us,” she says, leaning against the bar a little more comfortably as she orders a drink, her tone laid-back and completely at ease.

“So,” she says after a moment, glancing at your drink. “What is it about an old-fashioned you like? Never had one before myself.”

You pause, surprised at the genuine curiosity in her voice—like she’s asking not because she’s trying to keep up with some conversation routine, but because she truly wants to know. “I don’t know, really,” you respond, grateful for the chance to dive into the simplicity of this interaction. “It’s reliable, you know? Like me—when it comes to drinks. Doesn’t need a bunch of flair. Just straight to the point.”

“Straight to the point?” she echoes, eyes gleaming in amusement. “Then I’m glad I’m not a ‘complicated cocktail.’” She laughs at her own joke, nudging you playfully.

It’s funny how quickly the conversation flows—how easily the weight of self-awareness seems to vanish. You’re talking to her just like you would any ordinary person, and she’s responding like you’re just an ordinary guy. For that moment, there’s nothing remarkable about either of you; there’s no fame, no headlines, just two people trying to have a quiet night out after a chance encounter. And for some reason, that makes everything feel all the more real.

As you settle into the rhythm of the conversation, the noise of the world around you fades into the background. And with each passing second, it’s harder and harder to picture the world that she could potentially live in—the one you don’t know about, where she could be someone completely different from the woman you’re laughing with right now.

The conversation flows effortlessly between you two as the night stretches on, each exchange between you both deeper than the last but still lighthearted enough to make you both chuckle without thinking too hard. There’s an ease to it—a sense of freedom in just talking, being completely unaffected by the distractions that life usually throws at you.

“You know, sometimes I think it would be nice to just… disappear,” Jimin says, taking a sip of her drink, her gaze distant for a brief moment. “Not permanently, just… vanish for a while and live somewhere where nobody knows your name. No expectations, no pressures. Just doing whatever you want, you know?”

You nod, feeling a strange sense of understanding. There’s something so undeniably human about the need for freedom. “I get that. It’s easy to get caught up in everything else, especially when people start treating you differently. It's almost like you can’t even exist for yourself anymore.”

She looks over at you, her eyes thoughtful, catching the light from the bar just enough for her long lashes to cast soft shadows against her cheeks. There’s an almost wistful look to her, but it doesn’t diminish the softness in her gaze. “Exactly! Like… you can’t be your real self, because you’re always someone else in their eyes. Whether it’s someone’s idea of who you should be, or the version of you they want you to be, you stop knowing who you are.”

You smile gently, admiring the way her eyes shift when she speaks, the way her voice seems to take on a dreamier, more intimate tone, revealing a side of her you’ve never seen on stage or through the screen. “Yeah,” you reply, “I get it more than you probably think. I’d love to just take a break, and escape for a bit. No cameras. Just… do whatever feels right.”

Her lips curl into a soft smile, and for a moment, it feels like the world stops. “Seems like we’re both yearning for the same thing,” she says. “Maybe we’ll just disappear together.”

The weight of her words sits between you, but before either of you can fully sink into it, she lets out a small laugh. “Can you imagine? You and me, in some random country, pretending to be regular tourists.”

“You think we’d blend in?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “If people saw you, they’d probably think we were famous from the second we step out.”

“Not true,” she counters, leaning closer, her laugh becoming brighter. “I could wear sunglasses the whole time, and no one would know it’s me.”

“Ha, well I could walk around and claim I’m a professional soccer player for, like… a tiny club or something,” you lied, leaning back in your chair, resting your hand on your drink, you don’t want her entire view about your profession, you want her to genuinely get to know you.

Her eyes flash with mischief. “You? A soccer player? I’ve seen your crutch. Hard to pull that off.” Her words are teasing, but there’s a genuine lightness in her voice that you can’t help but smile at.

She shakes her head, her laughter twinkling like it’s a shared secret, and you catch yourself for a second, admiring how incredibly radiant she looks in this moment. It’s not just the way her face lights up or the way her dress catches the bar lights; it’s the sense of comfort she exudes as if you both get what the other needs.

Suddenly, the waiter comes over, breaking the mood entirely. He’s an older man, and you can see a certain tiredness in his eyes. “Excuse me, but we’ll be closing soon,” he says politely, his voice kind but firm. His words are almost apologetic as he gestures around the bar, indicating that the night is ending.

You glance at Jimin, and both of you are suddenly brought back to the reality of time. There's a momentary, almost imperceptible shift between you both—a small sigh, a quick look, and then that familiar weight of the outside world pressing in.

"Right," you say, laughing awkwardly, “Guess it’s already late, huh?”

Jimin seems to be calculating something, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought before meeting your gaze with a sudden gleam of mischief. “Actually,” she begins, her voice dropping to a playful murmur, “if you don’t mind… we could hang out in my room for a bit after. I always end up missing out on the fun when things get too busy. Plus… you don’t seem to be in any rush to go anywhere.”

You grin at her, finding it impossible not to tease. "Ah, so you’re trying to keep me around for more of your delightful company, huh?"

She raises an eyebrow in return, a smirk tugging at her lips. "What, are you saying I couldn’t get enough of you?"

You laugh lightly, the playfulness sparking once again between you two. “You’re right, I could see why you’d need some more of me.” You give her a cheeky wink, and even though you’re half-joking, the warmth from the playful exchange makes you feel suddenly at ease. In her presence, things just seem... lighter.

Jimin laughs again, a sound that sends a pleasant shiver through your chest. “Maybe just this once. You’d be surprised how often I’ve had to cancel plans or end up by myself. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my time alone, but… tonight’s been Amazing”

The sincerity of her words lingers with you for a moment before your grin returns. "Well, I guess I’ll take you up on your offer," you say, nodding toward the door.

You both stand, the light atmosphere between you two still strong, keeping things easy and uncomplicated as you begin to walk toward the exit. You’re about to follow her when she turns and pauses, giving you a look that’s almost too soft to be fleeting but too playful to be serious.

“Well, come on then," she says, her voice low but excited, full of intent. “Are we going or not?”

The walk to Jimin’s room is lighthearted, with teasing remarks flying back and forth, keeping the mood buoyant. When the elevator doors open, she playfully gestures for you to follow her, her emerald dress swishing gently as she leads the way down the hallway.

“You didn’t expect a five-star suite, did you?” she says over her shoulder, unlocking the door.

“Of course not,” you tease. “But given the night’s events, I’m just glad you’re not leading me to the janitor’s closet.”

She bursts into laughter, shaking her head as she pushes the door open. Her room is modest yet elegant, with warm lighting and a cozy feel. It’s much less extravagant than you’d expect, which, in a way, fits perfectly with the down-to-earth side of her you’ve gotten to know.

As the door shuts behind you, she kicks off her shoes and flops onto the small sofa by the window. “Okay, we’ve discussed soccer and random dreams, but what about food? What’s your guilty pleasure?” she asks, patting the seat beside her.

You drop down onto the couch, leaning back comfortably. “Pizza,” you admit almost sheepishly. “The greasy, extra-cheese kind that’s probably got more calories than I need in a week.”

She gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “Pizza? That’s so basic! I thought you’d be more creative. Aren’t athletes supposed to have fancy nutrition plans or something?”

“I do,” you retort, smirking. “But pizza is my cheat day savior. Don’t tell me you’re above a classic slice.”

She tilts her head, grinning. “Fine. But if we’re talking cheat foods, I win. Tteokbokki—spicy rice cakes, no competition. If there’s a heaven, it’s probably made of that.”

“Tteokbokki?” you repeat, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re telling me mushy rice cakes drenched in spicy sauce beat pizza?”

“First of all, mushy is the wrong word,” she says, jabbing her finger toward you in mock offense. “And second, tteokbokki is a cultural treasure. You don’t deserve it.”

You both crack up at each other’s exaggerated expressions, bantering back and forth about which food reigns supreme, each escalating into increasingly ridiculous arguments. When you both tire out, the mood has shifted to a calmer energy.

The conversation starts to fade naturally, and silence settles in like a comfortable blanket. You’re sitting closer than you realized, her arm resting just inches from yours. The soft glow of the lamp lights up her features—the gentle curve of her cheekbones, the glint of her eyes that seem to hold a secret only she knows.

And then, without even fully realizing it, you both move at the same time. You lean in, and so does she, the space between you evaporating in an instant.

When your lips meet, the world seems to fade into the background. The kiss is slow and unhurried, and yet it feels like time itself has stopped. Her lips are warm and soft, fitting perfectly against yours, and for those few seconds, it’s as if nothing else matters. Your heart pounds in your chest, loud enough that you’re sure she can hear it.

The kiss lasts only a moment, but it feels eternal, filled with a mix of tenderness and unspoken emotion that you hadn’t realized had built up between you both. When you finally pull back, your eyes meet hers. She’s looking at you, her expression unreadable but not unhappy.

And then it hits you—what just happened. Your stomach flips with a mixture of exhilaration and nerves.

“I… uh…” you begin, trying to find the words, but none come.

Jimin blinks, then lets out a soft laugh, the sound breaking the tension just enough. “Well… that happened,” she says, her voice warm, laced with the same kind of tension that you’re feeling.

“I wasn’t planning on…” you trail off, unsure of how to finish the thought.

“Neither was I,” she says, her lips curving into a small smile. Something is comforting in the way she’s looking at you, her hand unconsciously brushing against yours.

For a moment, you’re both silent, the gravity of what just happened settling in. But beneath the surface of the shock, you feel something else—a flicker of something new, something that feels undeniably right.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The room feels heavy with unspoken emotions, the electricity between you both palpable. You wonder if you should say something, break the silence, or try to bring things back to the easygoing vibe you’d both been enjoying all night. But before you can even think of what to say, Jimin shifts slightly on the couch, her fingers brushing against your knee as if testing the waters.

You glance over at her, and there’s something in her eyes that wasn’t there before—a quiet intensity, a question, and an answer all at once. She’s still close, close enough that you can see the way her lips part slightly, close enough to catch the faint sweetness of her perfume mingled with the softness of something else—moisturizer, maybe, lingering on her skin.

Then, without a word, she leans in.

Her hands find your face first, delicate fingers framing your jaw as her lips crash against yours with a sudden fervor that takes your breath away. This time, there’s no hesitation, no lingering doubt. The kiss is deep and consuming. Her body presses against yours in a way that leaves no space between you, and her warmth is seared into you through the thin fabric of her dress.

You respond instinctively, your hands moving to her waist as if drawn there by some unseen force. Her dress feels silky beneath your fingers, cool to the touch compared to the heat radiating from her skin. The kiss grows more passionate with every second, her lips soft and full, tasting faintly of the wine she sipped earlier, mingled with something uniquely her.

Her hands slide to the back of your neck, her touch firm yet tender as she tilts her head, deepening the kiss further. Your senses are overloaded—her scent, her touch, the way her body seems to fit perfectly against yours. The world outside her room ceases to exist, and all that remains is her—her lips, her hands, the sweet and intoxicating press of her body against yours.

You’re acutely aware of everything in this moment: the way her hair brushes against your cheek, the subtle warmth of her breath as the kiss slows just slightly, becoming less urgent but no less intense. Her lips move against yours with a rhythm that feels both deliberate and effortless, each motion sending a shiver down your spine.

Her moisturizer leaves a faint taste of sweetness on her skin as you kiss her deeply, a detail that makes this moment feel impossibly more intimate. The air grows heavier between you, charged with an unspoken understanding that transcends words. Her hands slide downward, resting against your chest as she finally pulls back just a fraction, her lips hovering close to yours as if reluctant to let go entirely.

When her eyes meet yours again, they’re smoldering, and her cheeks flush in a way that only makes her more stunning. She lets out a soft, unsteady breath, and her lips curve into the faintest smile.

“Well…” she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. “That should clear up any doubts, don’t you think?”

Her tone is teasing, but there’s an unmistakable vulnerability in her gaze that makes your chest tighten. You can’t help but laugh softly, the tension breaking just slightly as you rest your forehead lightly against hers.

“Yeah,” you manage to say, your voice husky and tinged with disbelief. “Message received loud and clear.”

She smiles again, her thumb brushing absently against your cheek as her gaze flickers down to your lips and back up to your eyes. It’s clear she’s not in a rush to move away, and you realize that, for the first time in a long while, you feel entirely at ease—no pretenses, no masks, just her and you, connected in a way that feels both new and somehow inevitable.

For a moment, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. The glow of the soft lighting dances on Jimin's skin, accentuating the curve of her jaw, the delicate shape of her lips, and the faint blush blooming across her cheeks. She looks breathtaking—no, beyond breathtaking—and you can’t help but get lost in the surreal nature of the situation.

Here you are, sitting so intimately close to someone who seemed to fit perfectly with you as if the universe itself had aligned every star to bring you together in this moment. But the intensity of it all—the vulnerability, the yearning in her gaze—has your thoughts racing to places you shouldn’t linger.

Without even realizing it, you lean forward again, capturing her lips in a slower, more deliberate kiss that is still filled with the magnetic pull you feel toward her. Her hands, soft and unyielding, begin to explore your chest, tracing light circles over the fabric of your shirt, the warmth of her palms seeping through. A faint shiver courses through you, but a voice in the back of your head—one part reason, one part hesitation—makes you pull back.

You rest your forehead against hers for a lingering moment, your breath still catching up with the intensity of her kiss. “I don’t know if we should go any further,” you whisper, the words coming out almost reluctantly. “I don’t want us to do something we might regret tomorrow morning.”

The room is silent save for the faint sound of the city outside, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Jimin doesn’t respond immediately, and her silence feels louder than anything she could have said. It creates a sinking feeling in your chest, and for a split second, you wonder if you’ve completely misread her—or worse, let her down.

Taking her lack of response as a quiet agreement, you swallow hard and gently start to shift away from her. “I should probably go,” you murmur, rising to your feet. There’s a soft ache in your voice that even you can hear. This isn’t what you want, but the last thing you’d ever want to do is make her feel rushed into something.

As you head toward the door, a soft, almost imperceptible sound makes you pause—a faint rustling, followed by the light tug of fabric. You glance down, and your heart nearly stops when you see her slender hand gripping the edge of your shirt. Her touch is gentle yet firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

“What if I want this?” she asks softly, her voice trembling slightly but resolute. You turn to face her, and the raw emotion in her eyes catches you off guard. “What if I want you? What if this… is what I need?”

The vulnerability in her voice hits you like a wave. Her confession, so open, so unguarded, leaves you speechless for a moment. You can see the truth in her expression, the way her hands cling to your shirt as if letting go would shatter something fragile between you both. She’s not being impulsive—she’s being honest, and it terrifies you how much you want to believe her.

“Jimin,” you whisper, stepping closer and gently cupping her face with your hands, your thumbs brushing against her cheeks. “Are you sure about this?” Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest, caught somewhere between hope and uncertainty.

Her gaze never wavers as she nods, biting her bottom lip. “I’ve never been more sure,” she murmurs, her hands sliding up to rest against your chest. “You’re not like anyone else. With you, I feel... free. I don’t want this night to end.”

Her words wash over you, and any lingering doubts crumble under the weight of the sincerity in her voice.

“Nor do I,” you whisper into her neck as your lips place gentle kisses all over them. Her skin was smooth and smelled like almond vanilla, you couldn’t get enough of her.

Raw desire takes you over more and more, chipping away at your control as your hands caress and explore her body.

“Jimin, any more than this and I won’t stop, this is your last chance to run,” You warn.

There is no reply from her side, but her actions speak a hundred words. The dress she is wearing is now on the floor, exposing her well-sculpted body. The dress she wore earlier didn’t do enough justice to how perfect this woman is.

Looking at her body in nothing but a bra and panties puts you in awe. How could something so perfect exist? The need to touch and feel her takes over and you rush to her. The kiss was a mess both of you longed for each other, there was a need to get closer to her that you couldn’t satisfy. Jimin’s legs now warped around your waist and her back slammed against the wall, the kiss was intoxicating but the need to worship every single inch of her body was more.

The kiss breaks when you pull away from Jimin much to her dismay but you are not going to let go of this chance to worship her body. You trail kisses from her cheeks to her collarbone. Her gentle moans and gasps are driving you crazy. You want this woman screaming and moaning your name.

Your lips latch onto her neck, biting, and nibbling at her sensitive skin. It was going to leave a mark on her pale skin but you didn’t care at least not right now. While your lips were placing naughty little kisses all over her neck, Jimin’s legs let go of you and she is now with each leg around yours. Your hand slowly moves to her panties.

Jimin soaked through her panties and she freezes up with a loud gasp when your hand grabs her inner thigh. Looking at how she reacts, you tease her a little, hands hovering over her thighs tracing her skin and pulling away just before it reaches the place she wants it at.

Jimin whines when your fingers move in the opposite direction. She can’t take much more teasing, and you finally give her the touch she needs. Jimin let out a loud gasp; you rub her clothed pussy for a few more seconds. The room is filled with the sound of Jimin’s sweet moans; her legs are giving in.

“Just take off my panties. Please just stop teasing,” Jimin says, there is growing frustration in her voice, and you are not going to deny her any more pleasure.

The very next moment, you tear away Jimin’s panties and are presented with a glisteningly wet pussy and you are mesmerized by it.

“D-don’t stare,” Jimin’s hands now cover up the very thing you so desperately want to taste.

“No need to be shy, Jimin; you are perfect. Let me worship this perfection, and I will give you a night that you won’t be able to forget,” You say as you place a kiss on the hands that are covering her crotch.

Jimin’s breath hitches at your words, her hands trembling slightly as they shield her from your hungry gaze. The tenderness in your voice, laced with raw desire, sends a shiver down her spine. She hesitates for a moment, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink, but then slowly—agonizingly slowly—she lets her hands fall away, revealing herself to you completely. Her vulnerability only makes her more breathtaking, and you feel your own heartbeat thundering in your chest, a perfect rhythm to match hers.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you whisper, your voice thick with awe as you lower yourself closer, your breath warm against her skin. Jimin squirms slightly, her thighs twitching under your touch, but there’s a flicker of trust in her eyes that tells you she’s ready—more than ready. You press a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh, eliciting a shaky whimper from her lips, and it’s like a spark igniting something primal between you both.

Your hands slide up her thighs, gentle yet firm, parting her legs just enough to give you access to her glistening core. The heat radiating from her is intoxicating, and when your lips finally brush against her, Jimin’s head falls back with a moan that’s equal parts relief and desperation. “Oh… oh God,” she gasps, her fingers instinctively threading through your hair, pulling you closer as if she’s afraid you’ll tease her again.

You don’t. Not this time. Your tongue traces her slowly at first, savoring the taste of her, the way she trembles beneath you. She’s sweet and addictive, and every little sound she makes—every hitch of her breath, every choked whimper—fuels the fire building inside you. You can feel how much she needs this, how much she needs you, and it’s like the world narrows down to just the two of you, locked in this perfect, electric moment.

Jimin’s hips buck slightly, chasing the sensation, and you respond by deepening your movements, your tongue circling her clit with a deliberate tenderness that has her crying out your name. “Yes—please, don’t stop,” she begs, her voice raw and unraveling. You glance up at her, and the sight nearly undoes you: her eyes half-lidded with lust, her lips parted as she pants, her chest heaving with every breath. She’s a vision of pure, unfiltered need, and you’re determined to give her everything she craves.

Your hands grip her hips, anchoring her as you lose yourself in her, the intimacy of it overwhelming. The way she responds to every flick of your tongue, every press of your lips—it’s like she was made for you, her body fitting against yours as if it’s always belonged there. You can feel the tension coiling tight inside her, her legs trembling as she teeters on the edge, and you want nothing more than to push her over it, to see her fall apart in your arms.

“I’m so close,” Jimin whimpers, her voice breaking as her fingers tighten in your hair. “You feel so good—I can’t—” Her words dissolve into a moan as you suck gently on her clit, your eyes locked on hers. The connection between you is palpable, a current of heat and trust and something deeper that neither of you needs to name. You can feel her unraveling, her body arching toward you, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

When she comes, it’s with a cry that echoes through the room, her entire body shuddering as waves of pleasure crash over her. You don’t stop, guiding her through it with slow, reverent strokes, tasting every pulse of her release. Her hands clutch at you desperately, grounding herself as she rides out the high, and you feel a surge of pride and adoration swelling in your chest. She’s yours at this moment—completely, utterly—and you’re hers just the same.

As her breathing steadies, Jimin looks down at you, her eyes glassy and soft, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “You’re… incredible,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse but dripping with affection. She reaches for you, pulling you up to her, and when your lips meet hers, it’s a kiss that’s slow and deep, tasting of her and the intimacy you’ve just shared. You can feel her heartbeat against your chest, syncing with yours, and it’s like the two of you are one entity, fused by something beyond words.

“I’ve never felt like this,” you admit against her lips, your hand cupping her face as you gaze into her eyes.

“Neither have I,” Jimin whispers back, her voice a soft confession that sends a jolt of heat through you. Her hands roam your chest, tugging at your shirt with an urgency that mirrors the ache building inside you. You help her strip it off, and soon her fingers are tracing the lines of your body, her touch igniting every nerve. She pulls you closer, her lips brushing your ear as she murmurs, “I need you… all of you.”

Her voice undoes you. You shed the rest of your clothes in a frenzy, and when you’re finally bare before her, Jimin’s eyes darken with desire, her breath catching as she takes you in. You position yourself between her thighs, the heat of her core radiating against you, and for a moment, you just look at her—her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way her chest rises and falls with anticipation. She’s perfect, and you’re about to lose yourself in her completely.

You guide yourself to her entrance, teasing her just for a second, and Jimin’s hips lift toward you, a silent plea. Then, slowly, you push inside her, and the sensation is overwhelming—tight, wet, and so warm that it steals the breath from your lungs. A groan escapes you, raw and unrestrained, as her walls clench around you, welcoming you in like you were always meant to be there. “Fuck, Jimin,” you rasp, your hands gripping her hips as you sink deeper. “You feel… incredible.”

Jimin’s response is a broken moan, her head tipping back as her nails dig into your shoulders. “Oh God, you’re—so deep,” she gasps, her voice trembling with the intensity of it. She’s stretched around you, her body molding to yours like it was crafted just for this moment, and the way she shudders beneath you tells you she’s feeling every inch as keenly as you are. Her eyes flutter shut, then open again, locking onto yours with a look that’s equal parts vulnerability and ecstasy. “It’s like… you’re perfect for me,” she breathes, and the words hit you like a tidal wave, amplifying the intimacy of being buried inside her.

You start to move, slow at first, savoring the way she pulses around you with every thrust. Each motion draws a whimper from her, her legs wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, deeper. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice a sultry melody that drives you wild. You lean down to kiss her, your tongues tangling as your hips find a rhythm, steady and deep. The friction is exquisite, her slick heat enveloping you, and every thrust feels like a declaration of how seamlessly you fit together.

After a few minutes, you shift, gently guiding her onto her side. You lift one of her legs over your shoulder, and when you slide back into her from this new angle, Jimin’s cry is sharp and unrestrained. “Oh—yes,” she moans, her hands fisting the sheets as you hit a spot that makes her entire body quake. You can feel the difference too—the way her walls tighten even more, the way every thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through you both. “You’re so good,” she pants, her eyes glazed with lust as she reaches for you, needing to feel your skin against hers.

You oblige, leaning down to press your chest to hers, your breaths mingling as you pick up the pace. The position lets you grind against her clit with every thrust, and Jimin’s moans turn into desperate, breathless cries. “I can’t—I can’t get enough of you,” she gasps, her hands clutching your back, pulling you impossibly closer. The heat of her, the way she clenches around you, is driving you to the edge, but you hold on, wanting to see her unravel again.

You pull out briefly, earning a needy whimper from Jimin, but you’re quick to reposition her. “On your knees,” you murmur, your voice rough with desire, and she complies eagerly, her body trembling with anticipation. When you enter her from behind, the angle is devastating—for both of you. She’s tighter like this, her ass pressing against your hips as you thrust deep, and the sound she makes is pure bliss, a high-pitched moan that reverberates through the room. “Fuck, you’re—so big,” she groans, her head dropping forward as she pushes back against you, meeting every thrust with equal fervor.

You grip her hips, steadying her as you lose yourself in the rhythm, each movement drawing a symphony of gasps and moans from her. “You take me so well,” you growl, your own pleasure mounting as her walls flutter around you, signaling she’s close again. You reach around, your fingers finding her clit, and the moment you start rubbing tight circles, Jimin’s entire body tenses. “Yes—right there,” she cries, her voice breaking as she rocks against you, chasing that peak.

The sight of her like this—back arched, sweat glistening on her skin, her hair a mess from your hands—sends a surge of possessive pride through you. She’s yours, and you’re hers, and the way you move together feels like a dance you’ve known forever. You thrust harder, deeper, and she matches you, her moans growing louder, more desperate. “I’m gonna—” she starts, but the words dissolve into a scream as she comes undone, her body shaking as her orgasm rips through her.

You slow just enough to let her ride it out, but you’re not done—not by a long shot. You pull her up so her back is flush against your chest, your arms wrapping around her as you thrust up into her still-trembling body. “You’re amazing,” you whisper into her ear, your lips brushing the shell of it as you move slow and deliberate, savoring the aftershocks that ripple through her. Jimin turns her head, capturing your lips in a sloppy, heated kiss, and the way she clenches around you tells you she’s still lost in the haze of pleasure.

“You feel so good inside me,” she murmurs against your mouth, her voice soft but dripping with need. Her hands reach back, tangling in your hair as she grinds against you, urging you to keep going. And you do, shifting her again—this time onto her back, her legs spread wide as you settle between them. When you slide back in, the look in her eyes is pure adoration, and it fuels you as much as the physical sensation of being buried in her once more.

You gaze down at Jimin, her body spread out beneath you, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat. The connection between you feels unbreakable, a current of desire and intimacy that keeps pulling you both deeper. You thrust into her again, slow and deliberate, and her moan is soft but laden with need. “You’re driving me crazy,” she breathes, her hands sliding up your arms to grip your shoulders, pulling you down for a kiss that’s all heat and hunger.

The rhythm builds naturally, your hips rocking into hers as the bed creaks beneath you. Her legs tighten around your waist, urging you deeper, and the way she clenches around you sends a shiver up your spine. “Fuck, Jimin, you’re so tight,” you groan, your voice rough as the pleasure coils tighter inside you. She meets your thrusts with her own, her hips lifting off the mattress, and the friction is maddening. Her breath hitches, her nails digging into your skin, and you can feel her trembling on the edge again.

“I’m—oh God, I’m coming,” she gasps, her eyes fluttering shut as her body arches beneath you. Her orgasm hits hard, her walls pulsing around you in waves that nearly undo you. You grit your teeth, thrusting through it, and the sight of her—head thrown back, lips parted in a silent scream—pushes you over the brink. “Jimin—fuck,” you growl, spilling inside her, your release crashing through you with an intensity that leaves you dizzy. You collapse against her, both of you panting, your foreheads pressed together as you ride out the aftershocks.

But you’re not done—not even close. After a moment, you pull out, earning a whimper of protest from Jimin, but you’re already moving. “Come here,” you murmur, guiding her off the bed and toward the wall. She follows, her legs shaky but her eyes alight with anticipation. You press her back against the cool surface, lifting one of her legs to hook around your hip. “I want you right here,” you say, your voice low and possessive, and she nods eagerly, her hands gripping your shoulders.

You slide back into her, and the angle makes her gasp, her head tipping back against the wall. “Oh—yes,” she moans, her voice echoing faintly in the room. She’s still sensitive from before, and every thrust sends a jolt through her, her body trembling against yours. You brace one hand against the wall beside her head, the other holding her thigh as you move, deep and relentless. “You feel so fucking good,” you mutter, your lips brushing her neck as you nip at her skin. The heat of her, the way she grips you, it’s intoxicating, and you can feel the pressure building again.

Jimin’s hands slide down your back, her nails raking lightly as she clings to you. “Harder,” she pleads, her voice raw, and you oblige, slamming into her with a force that makes her cry out. “Right there—don’t stop,” she gasps, her body tensing as another orgasm builds. You reach between you, your fingers finding her clit, and that’s all it takes. She comes undone with a scream, her body shuddering against the wall, and the sight of her—wild and lost in pleasure—triggers your own release. You groan her name, your hips stuttering as you cum inside her again, the sensation overwhelming as you press yourself flush against her.

You’re both breathless, but the fire between you hasn’t dimmed. After a moment, you pull her away from the wall, her body pliant in your arms, and guide her toward the small desk in the corner of the room. “One more place,” you whisper, a grin tugging at your lips, and Jimin’s eyes sparkle with mischief despite her exhaustion. You turn her around, bending her over the desk, her hands bracing against the edge as she arches her back instinctively.

“God, you’re perfect,” you say, running your hands over her hips before sliding back into her from behind. She’s slick with arousal and your previous releases, and the sensation of entering her again is almost too much. “So wet for me,” you murmur, and she moans in agreement, pushing back against you. Your voice rough as you start to move, slow at first, then faster as her moans grow louder.

“Yes—fuck, yes,” Jimin pants, her voice breaking as you thrust deep, hitting that spot that makes her tremble. The desk rattles beneath her, papers sliding off as you pick up the pace, your hands gripping her hips to keep her steady. She’s a mess of gasps and whimpers, her body responding to every move you make, and you can feel her tightening around you again. “I’m gonna cum—again,” she warns, her voice desperate, and you lean forward, your chest pressed to her back as you drive into her harder.

“Do it,” you growl, your own climax building as her walls flutter around you. She cums with a cry, her body shaking beneath you, and the way she pulses around your cock sends you spiraling into your third release. “Jimin—shit,” you groan, spilling into her once more, your vision blurring as the pleasure crashes over you. You hold her close, both of you trembling as you ride out the high together, the desk creaking under your combined weight.

Finally, you pull out, your legs weak but your heart full. Jimin turns to face you, her face flushed and glowing, a tired but satisfied smile on her lips. “You’re insatiable,” she teases, her voice soft as she steps into your arms. You kiss her gently, tasting the salt of sweat on her lips, and guide her back to the bed.

You collapse onto the mattress together, limbs tangled as you pull her close. “You’re amazing,” you murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She nestles against your chest, her breathing slowing as exhaustion takes over.

“So are you,” she whispers, her voice fading as her eyes flutter shut. You feel the weight of her body relax against yours, her warmth seeping into you, and as your own eyelids grow heavy, you drift off, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat lulling you into a deep, contented sleep.

The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the tangled sheets. You stir awake, a faint smile tugging at your lips as memories of the night flood back—Jimin’s touch, her voice, the way you fit together so perfectly. You reach out, expecting to feel her warmth beside you, but your hand meets only cool, empty fabric. Your eyes snap open, and a jolt of confusion hits you. She’s not there.

“Jimin?” you call softly, sitting up, your voice hoarse from sleep. The room is silent, eerily still. You scan the space—the wall where you’d pinned her, the desk still askew from your passion—but there’s no sign of her. Panic creeps in as you stumble out of bed, your heart pounding. “She wouldn’t just leave,” you mutter to yourself, tearing through the room in a desperate search for something, anything—a phone number, a hint of where she’s gone.

You flip over pillows, rummage through the bedside drawer, even check under the bed, but there’s nothing. The clothes she’d worn are gone, her presence erased as if she’d never been there. Your chest tightens, a sinking dread replacing the warmth you’d felt just hours ago. Then, on the desk, beneath a shifted paper, you spot it—a small, folded note.

With trembling hands, you pick it up, unfolding it to reveal two simple words in her delicate handwriting: Thank you. That’s it. No explanation, no goodbye, just those two words staring back at you, cold and final. Your breath catches, and a sharp ache blooms in your chest, an icy chill permeating through your bones, leaving you cold and empty. You sink onto the edge of the bed, the note crumpling in your fist as your heart shatters. She’s gone, and all you’re left with is the ghost of her touch and a thank you that feels like a knife to the soul.

The days after Jimin’s disappearance stretch into weeks, then months, each one heavier than the last. You replay that night in your mind endlessly—her gasps, her laughter, the way she’d clung to you—searching for clues you might’ve missed. It’s as if she’d vanished into thin air, leaving only that crumpled thank you note, now worn from being unfolded and refolded in your pocket. Life drags on, hollow and incomplete, and though you try to move forward, a piece of you stays tethered to her, aching with unanswered questions.

Preseason arrives like a lifeline. You’re a midfielder for Manchester United, freshly recovered from a nagging ankle injury that sidelined you for months. The team’s trip to South Korea for a small tournament feels like a chance to shake off the rust—both physical and emotional. The first match is against a local club, and you start on the bench, easing back into the rhythm of the game. The whistle blows for halftime, and you’re jogging back to the pitch, mind focused on tactics, when the stadium erupts into cheers for the halftime performance.

You glance up at the Jumbotron out of habit, and your heart stops. It’s her—Jimin—moving across the stage with a group of dancers, her presence commanding the crowd. She’s radiant, her movements sharp yet fluid, every step a testament to her grace. You freeze mid-stride, the noise of the stadium fading into a dull roar as your eyes lock on her. It’s been months, but the sight of her cracks something open inside you, a flood of longing and disbelief. Then, as if drawn by some invisible thread, her gaze flicks toward the sideline—toward you.

For a split second, her mask slips. Her eyes widen, her step falters ever so slightly, a hiccup in her otherwise flawless performance. Most wouldn’t notice, but you do—you know her, even after all this time. The moment passes, and she recovers, finishing the routine with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. You’re left staring, breathless, as the crowd roars and your teammates nudge you back into motion. The second half begins, but your mind is elsewhere, lost in the shock of seeing her again. You play on autopilot, your body moving while your thoughts whirl—Why is she here? Why didn’t she stay? Manchester United wins, but the victory feels distant, overshadowed by the ghost of her on that stage.

The final whistle blows, and you’re off the pitch in an instant, sprinting toward the tunnel. You scan the shadows, heart hammering, hoping—praying—she’ll be there, waiting. But the tunnel is empty save for staff and lingering reporters. Disappointment crashes over you, sharp and familiar, and you trudge to the locker room, mechanically showering and changing. She’s slipped away again, and the realization stings deeper than before.

As you sling your bag over your shoulder, a teammate claps you on the back. “Oi, mate, someone’s waiting for you outside. Looked pretty anxious.” Your pulse spikes, and you don’t even respond—just bolt for the exit, shoving past curious glances. You step into the cool evening air, and there she is, standing by a barrier, her dancer’s outfit swapped for a simple hoodie and jeans. Her eyes meet yours, and the world narrows to just the two of you, the months apart dissolving in an instant.

You stop a few feet away, breath catching as you take her in—her nervous fidgeting, the way she bites her lip. She looks different, yet achingly familiar. Neither of you moves for a beat, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you. Then, almost in unison, you both speak, voices soft and tentative.

“Hello,” you say.

“Hello,” she echoes.

And in that single word, a fragile thread reconnects, trembling with possibility.

TBC

#kpop smut #aespa karina #karina #aespa smut #karina smut #kpop aespa

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markliving · 1 year ago

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MASTERLIST

That's my masterlist, some things are a little older and I don't write for them anymore, like BTS. My ask is not open for now and i do not write nsfw.

All the titles will be posted, i just need translated them. And remembering, english is not my firt language.

masterpost | who do i write |

GOT7

mark tuan

one-shot

let snow - mark tuan x f!reader, friends to lovers, fluff, a little of angst |

your favorite song - mark tuan x reader, fluff |

destination cafe - mark tuan x f!reader, fluff, alternative universe

series

til' the road and sky align - mark tuan x f!reader, stable relationship, travel, fluff, angst | ongoin

im jaebeom (jay b)

one-shot

ghost of you - jayb x f!reader, hurt/no comfort, angst | based in "ghost of you" by 5 seconds of summer

jackson wang

one-shot

my star - jackson x oc!star, fluff and happiness |

there are good witches, you know? - jackson x f!reader, magic, fantasy, fluff | 1585 words

park jinyoung

one-shot

lie to me - park jinyoung x f!reader, drama, happy ending? |

BTS

min yoongi

one-shot

better man - yoongi x f!reader, fluff | based in "better man" by 5 seconds of summer

unforgettable - yoongi x f!reader, fluff, stable relationship, travel, fluff |

Stremers/Youtubers

Foolish

One-shot

not always enemies | part 2 - percy jackson!au | son of aphrodite!foolish x son of athena!reader | hurt/confort, enemies to lovers, fluff

Harry Potter (marauders era)

sirius black

one-shot

five of september of 1978 - sirius black x f!reader, angst, hurt/no comfort, but a happy end?? | 657 words

behind the portrait - sirius black x f!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, stable relationship |

Top Gun: Maverick

jake seresin

one-shot

meet me in the pale moon - jake seresin x f!reader, fluff, drama |

Football

son heung-min

one-shot

strawberry - son heung-min x f!reader, just fluff |

Marvel

bucky barnes

one-shot

after you - bucky barnes x m!reader, angst, fluff, happy ending

jason tood

one-shot

a kiss heals everything - jason tood x f!reader, just fluff | 1076 words

beyond the mask - jason tood x f!reader, a little of romance, angst

One Piece

portgas d. ace

one-shot

special day - ace x f!reader, fluff |

roronoa zoro

one-shot

reunions - roronoa zoro x f!reader, after marineford, angst, happy ending, fluff |

Jujutsu Kaisen

gojo satoru

one-shot

miss you - gojo satoru x f!reader, platonic!megumi x platonic!reader, exes to lovers, drama, fluff, a little of angst, happy ending | 2499 words

assignation - duke!gojo satoru x f!reader, bridgerton!au, fluff | 1268 words

turn over - [part one] [part two] [part three] [part four] bestfriend brother!gojo satoru x f!geto!reader, platonic!geto suguru x platonic!reader, angst, drama, happy ending | ongoing

Nanami Kento

one-shot

by your side - nanami kento x reader, fluff, confort | 1057 words

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dafabetnextbet · 3 months ago

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Son Heung-min's 'Silence'... Tottenham Defeats FA Cup Following League Cup

Tottenham's chance to win another championship has disappeared. Tottenham was defeated by Aston Villa 1-2 in the fourth round (32 strongest teams) of the English FA Cup on the 10th. After losing 0-4 to Liverpool in the second leg of the Carabao Cup (League Cup) semifinal on the 7th and falling behind by a combined score of 1-4, Tottenham was also eliminated early in the FA Cup. Tottenham has not won any tournament since the 2007-2008 League Cup. 다파벳가입

It remains in 14th place in the English Premier League (EPL) this season, so there is only one remaining competition in the UEFA Europa League (UEL) that has a real chance of winning. 다파벳우회주소 Tottenham was dragged away by Aston Villa Jacob Ramsay in the first minute of the first half shortly after the start of the game. In the 24th minute of the first half, Son Heung-min had a chance to tie the game. He ran toward a low cross from the right and caught the goalkeeper one-on-one, but his non-stop right footed shot was blocked by the opponent's goalkeeper Emiliano Martinez. Son Heung-min fired a shot in the fifth minute of the second half after receiving a Dejan Kulusevski pass, but it hit the opponent's defense body. Aston Villa ran away with one more goal in the 19th minute of the second half. When Doniel Malan's cross from the right side hit the defense in front of the goal, Morgan Rogers pushed it with his left foot to score. Tottenham followed one goal by Matisse Tell, a transfer, in extra time in the second half, but it was not enough.

다파벳알아보기

#넥스트벳가입 #다파벳가입 #다파벳우회주소 #넥스트벳우회주소

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loviingpedri · 2 years ago

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꒰ Request Rules ꒱

rules :

- not taking any requests with smut.

- working at my own pace

- some requests may not be completed.

- one shots or 2 part stories only

- please be patient :)

rules will change every now and then.

———————————————————————

-> who i write for

- jude bellingham

- jobe bellingham

- pedri

- gavi

- joao felix

- mbappe

- trent alexander arnold

- haaland

- mason mount

- christian pulistic

- marcus rashford

- richarlison

- marc guiu

- hector fort

future :

- joe burrow

- son heung min

- sergio ramos

- ruben dias

- fermin lopez

please let me know if you have any other suggestions, thank you!

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sportsdp · 2 months ago

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Tottenham vs Liverpool Lineups & Match Analysis

The battle between Tottenham Hotspur and Liverpool is one of the biggest English football spectacles, not least because of the marketing masterclass it serves towards its supporters. In this article follows the analysis of the last round of these tottenham vs liverpool lineups, and the key players for each side.

Match Overview

The second leg of the Carabao Cup semi-final between Tottenham Hotspur and Liverpool took place on February 6, 2025, at Anfield. Liverpool produced a dominant display, securing a 4-0 victory, which resulted in a 4-1 aggregate win, booking their place in the final.

Starting Lineups

Liverpool's Starting XI:

Goalkeeper: Caoimhin Kelleher

Defenders: Conor Bradley, Ibrahima Konaté, Virgil van Dijk (c), Andrew Robertson

Midfielders: Dominik Szoboszlai, Ryan Gravenberch, Curtis Jones

Forwards: Mohamed Salah, Darwin Núñez, Cody Gakpo

Tottenham's Starting XI:

Goalkeeper: Antonin Kinsky

Defenders: Archie Gray, Kevin Danso, Ben Davies, Djed Spence

Midfielders: Pape Matar Sarr, Rodrigo Bentancur, Yves Bissouma

Forwards: Dejan Kulusevski, Richarlison, Heung-Min Son (c)

Tactical Analysis

Liverpool’s Dominant Display

Liverpool’s high-pressing approach overwhelmed Tottenham from the start. The midfield trio of Szoboszlai, Gravenberch, and Jones dictated the pace, allowing the front three of Salah, Núñez, and Gakpo to create constant attacking threats.

Salah's Influence: Mohamed Salah was instrumental in Liverpool’s attacking play, scoring one goal and assisting another.

Van Dijk’s Defensive Stability: The Liverpool captain led the defense with composure, keeping Tottenham’s attacking trio of Son, Richarlison, and Kulusevski quiet.

Kelleher’s Solid Goalkeeping: With Alisson rested, Kelleher made crucial saves to keep a clean sheet.

Tottenham’s Struggles

Tottenham failed to cope with Liverpool’s intensity, struggling to build meaningful attacks. Their defense was exposed multiple times, and their midfield lacked the creative spark needed to break through Liverpool’s press.

Lack of Cohesion in Midfield: Spurs’ midfield trio of Bentancur, Bissouma, and Sarr struggled to maintain possession and transition effectively.

Son Marked Out of the Game: Heung-Min Son, Tottenham’s main attacking threat, was tightly marked and unable to influence the match.

Key Moments

Early Liverpool Goal (12’) - Darwin Núñez opened the scoring with a well-placed shot inside the box.

Salah’s Brilliance (29’) - Salah doubled the lead with a clinical finish after a clever one-two with Szoboszlai.

Third Goal Before Halftime (42’) - Cody Gakpo added Liverpool’s third, virtually sealing the tie before the break.

Late Goal to Wrap It Up (78’) - A defensive mistake allowed Curtis Jones to score Liverpool’s fourth goal, putting the result beyond doubt.

Conclusion

Liverpool’s 4-0 victory over Tottenham in the Carabao Cup semi-final second leg showcased their attacking firepower, tactical superiority, and defensive solidity. With this dominant win, Liverpool secured their place in the final, while Tottenham will have to regroup and focus on other competitions. The match highlighted Liverpool’s depth and quality, reinforcing their credentials as serious contenders for the Carabao Cup trophy.

#key players #Tactical Analysis

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askdjhg5831 · 5 months ago

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until the end. Two minutes after Solanke

Soon after Son Heung-min was out, Tottenham scored. When Johnson passed Lucas Beribal's cross with Madison in the 38th minute 다파벳슬롯 of the second half with a header, Solanke fell and fired a left-footed shot to narrow the game to two goals.

Liverpool put the home team in agony by banking on its offense scored, 넥스트벳우회주소 Díaz connected Salah's pass with a right-footed turnaround shot from the right side of the penalty area to make the score 6-3.

Tottenham recorded the most runs in메이저사이트 one game since Postecoglou took over last summer.

#다파벳슬롯 #넥스트벳우회주소 #메이저사이트 #totojone.com

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dreamsinarcadia · 4 months ago

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The Window

The one where sleep-logged Sonny forgets to close the window

pairing: sonny x fem!reader

warning: yet to be proofread

She wondered how best to describe her love for Sonny. Some days it was exhilarating as it was intoxicating - he’d come home armed with flowers and a smile so bright it’d crease the corners of his eyes. He’d linger at the door and fill in the silence with stories of his day as she’d nod attentively from her spot in front of the mirror, applying make up while trying not to melt into a puddle at the intensity of his gaze. Some days he’d walk straight into her arms, a storm cloud practically raging to life over his head as he’d lament the loss of the day’s match.

But even in times of pure frustration, Sonny’s gentleness was like a blessing in disguise - a patch of blue sky amongst the dark clouds. He’d wrap strong arms around her, trapping her in the bastille of his warm embrace on nights when the silence was deafening, inadvertently chasing away the shadows of doubt that she didn’t even realize were creeping in.

Waking up to the uncomfortable prickles of a shiver running rampant on her skin was by no means the way she wanted to be greeted in the morning. With a disgruntled sigh, she willed her eyes to open as much as possible to try and read the time. The clock on the bedside table read 7:35 am, a perfectly reasonable time to wake up and get ready for work, yet all she wanted to do was burrow deeper into the covers and slip right back into dreamland.

She honestly had no one to blame other than herself (and maybe even Sonny). She’d insisted that her boyfriend eat something before bed, and he’d retaliated by coaxing her to staying up way past both their usual bedtime hours. She’d charmed him with stories of her grandmother playfully wielding her slipper as a weapon against her siblings, her father travelling from Goyang to Seoul on a daily basis in an attempt to woo her mother, and a few more stories in an attempt to distract him from the weariness of the day. Of course, this meant that she’d lost track as the hours that slipped away in the quiet comfort of each other's voices, filling in the gaps that too often felt like chasms in their time together.

With the demands of his life, Sonny was like a fleeting gust of wind in the summer. It was a demanding lifestyle, one that he’d fought tooth and nail to achieve. Bearing this in mind, she never once asked him to devote more time than he honestly could on her. So when he could carve out time just for her, she treasured it, sleeplessness and all. His laughter was worth the countless yawns she’d have to endure at work (much to the amusement of her coworkers).

He was worth the loss of sleep.

Shifting underneath the covers, she focused her gaze on Sonny, dozing blissfully by her side. The sight of him, long lashes resting against the curve of his cheeks and his lips parted just slightly enough for a light snore to fill the silence, made the corners of her mouth tug upwards into an amused smile. He really was the epitome of innocence at moments of stillness, the sharp edges of a man put down by the events of the day lost in slumber. His arm was draped languidly over her waist, anchoring her close to his side in that tender and protective way he always did, even in his sleep. He always ran hot; the heat and weight of his limb was nothing short of grounding, reminding her that despite the chaos of his world they were each other’s anchors.

Yesterday’s match against Liverpool had been resoundingly intense, and the following drop in points on the Premier League table had taken a toll on him. She could tell that he was beyond exhausted. The performance could honestly be chalked up to the fact that half the starting team was in the depths of a medical nightmare. They’d lost, and yet Sonny blamed no one but himself. He felt raw, exposed, his mind a blend of misery and despair, haunted by the taunting boos and curses flung his team’s way from the fans in the stands. The bitter disappointment of the evening still clawed relentlessly at his dreams.

The unhurried flutter of the window curtains signalled the cool morning breeze intruding into her bedroom, but not even the chill of the breath of wind could wake the human furnace beside her. As she lay in silent envy of her boyfriend’s ridiculously gorgeous slumbering form - whilst wondering how best to shove him off the bed in the nicest way possible - her attention zeroed in on the open window.

The claws of another chill ran shivers up her spine, so she burrowed deeper into Sonny’s side, taking full advantage of the warmth he inadvertently provided. As if sensing her discomfort, his arm immediately curled tighter around her waist, though he remained in a state of blissful slumber. He must have been running through mental notes on the match though, because his muscles were tightly coiled as if ready to spring into action at any given moment. His breathing, in contrast, remained steady and constant, and she tried to match her own breathing to his rhythm. Maybe that would help lull her back to sleep.

Her eyelids fluttered as drowsiness quickly began to pull her back into its loving embrace.

If only she’d remembered to close the damn window before bed—

And suddenly her eyes were wide open as realisation slammed into her consciousness. She was not the window culprit. It was Sonny!

She hadn’t been in the room at the time, but she could easily picture it; him half-dazed, muscles screaming in protest, vision clouded with the weight of the match’s results, and then . . . the window left ajar, as if his mind couldn't quite handle the simple task with everything else loaded on his plate.

She couldn’t even feign annoyance even if she’d tried. He must have been truly drained to forget a task that he’d practically drilled into his routine. She took the time to appreciate the familiarity of his body pressed against his own, the rhythmic thump of his heart beat, the wonderfully mind numbing scent of vanilla and something so indescribably Sonny and the way her fingers travelled up to tangle his hair, eventually pulling him from his dreams.

Face twitching, long eyelashes fluttered against the pillow as his lips parted to inhale a sharp bout of air. Her fingernails scraped lazily across his scalp, the familiarity of the motion finally waking him from whatever remnant of sleep he had been lost in.

“Sonny,” she whispered playfully. “Did you forget about anything last night?”

He grumbled incoherently in protest, shifting a little to try and pull her closer, but she wiggled back just enough to keep him succumbing to the drowsiness. As if to prove her point, she jammed her icy toes into his knees. He immediately jerked, his forehead creasing as his eyes shot open at the surprise attack, no longer able to hang onto the last tempting tendrils of sleep. Sonny blinked, not quite seeing her through the thick haze of sleep. The half-conscious, and thoroughly puzzled, sleep-logged look he gave her honestly was adorable.

“Goodnight kiss?” He tried, voice rough with sleep and doing wonders to send an eruption of butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. His cheeky little smile carried the tilt of mischief she’d come to adore.

Shuffling forward to close the gap she’d created, Sonny pressed a kiss to the warmth of her cheek, taking a second to marvel at the immediate relief of tension from his shoulders. He could spend days in bed like this with her.

“The window, Son Heung-min,” she reminded him. “I’m freezing.”

His expression adjusted as a less than stellar joke dawned on him. “Ah,” he exclaimed thoughtfully. “I’m Heung-min.”

She really did resist the force of a tidal wave in order to stop her eyes from rolling to the back of her head, so chose to jab a finger into his shoulder instead. “Baby. The window.”

Sonny blinked, trying his best to assess her words the best he could after having just woken up, before craning his neck to pin his gaze on the confounded window. Clarity finally broke through as he smashed his face into the pillow and groaned to try and escape the responsibility. The corner of his mouth, however, quirked into a small apologetic grin. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Mmm. You’re lucky I’m comfortable,” she teased lightly, combing her fingers through his hair and running them across the back of his neck, watching in delight as he shivered delicately under the cool touch.

Humming in agreement, he yanked her closer to his side and grabbed the sheet so that she couldn’t escape. “Can I close it in a minute?”

She raised an eyebrow, a gesture that he couldn’t see from having his face mashed into the pillow, but definitely felt in his bones. “I can feel you glaring at me ,” he mumbled as she laughed and kissed his shoulder. It was time to get up and get ready for practice anyway.

He released a groan that came from the depths of his chest, clearly not thrilled about leaving the comfort of the bed and his beloved girlfriend, but the glint in her eyes was inventive enough to get him in motion. At a snail’s pace, he pushed himself up, his bare chest exposed to the chill in the room (he’d shucked his hoodie into a corner of the room at some point in the night). His sweatpants hung delectably low on his hips, the fabric clinging to his frame in a way that left so very little to the imagination.

In that moment, she just laid there, still in the soft glow of the morning light, admiring him as he broke into a lazy jog to close the window. His muscles rippled with each movement—his broad shoulders, the small bruises adorning his hip and legs at whatever knocks he’d picked up on the field, the defined lines of his chest and abs, all sculpted from the harsh physicality of the life he led, a few of the endless challenges and unspoken battles on the pitch. There were scars—faded over the course of time—chiselled into his skin like a map of his past, each one a testament to the strength he carried, the price he paid to be the athlete he was now.

She never asked about them; they were a part of his past that he’d really rather not have experienced. Though they were reminders that the sport he played was at times more dangerous than expected, they never scared her. If anything, each scar made him more real… more human. More her Sonny than the beloved Son Heung-min captaining both a Premier League and National team.

Her heart practically swelled triple its size at the way his back muscles rippled when he yanked the window shut with a nimble touch before turning around. The chill no longer bit at her skin, and the air was significantly warmer. The warmth, however, wasn’t simply because of the window being closed. It was him. It has always been him.

Sonny’s lips, upon catching her gaze the moment he’d turned around, curved into his signature wide smile, completing missing the fact that she was ogling him like a tall glass of cool water on a sweltering summer day. “Better?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. “Thank you.” Her voice, still a little rough with sleep, caught in her throat as her eyes raked his figure. She was fighting an internal war to keep a raging blush from colouring her cheeks and setting her ears on fire.

His smile faltered at the way she’d been silently staring at him, mistaking the quiet admiration of his build for something else. Raising a hand, his fingers ventured across the five o’clock shadow on his face. “What? Drool on my face?” he asked, a touch of humour in his voice.

She shook her head. “No,” she said, much softer now, “just… you.”

Crossing the distance between the window and the foot of the bed, Sonny beamed down at her and scrunched his brows in question. “Me?”

Words couldn’t quite articulate how much she loved him, and she didn’t quite know how to get the message across without bursting into tears. “I love you,” she said simply, choosing to tell him the truth as it simply was.

He stood still, smile melting into something that read quiet contemplation as he studied the sincerity in her tone and eyes.

"You do?" he murmured, his voice a little raspier than usual, thick with untapped emotion. He rounded the corner to stand by her side and reached over, his hand brushing gently against the apple of her cheek, a gesture that seemed to speak volumes more than words could.

She nodded, her impish little smile still there, but now tinged with a softness that only he could extract from her core. "Yes," she whispered again, a little breathless at the unexpected intensity of the moment, "just you, Sonny."

The silence seemed to stretch for hours, though it was a glacial ten seconds at best. He studied her, his gaze deep and knowing, like he was searching for something in her eyes. And then, with a slight curve of his lips, he said it back, his voice so raw, so full of everything he usually kept hidden beneath multiple layers of humour and sarcasm.

“I love you.”

It was simple, but the way he said it—the way his fingers ghosted over her cheek before trailing down to cup the back of her neck, the way his gaze softened, like the weight and noise of the world didn't matter as long as she was there—made the words feel more real than anything. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against her in a soft, lingering kiss.

When she pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his breathing steadier now. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“Yes, you do,” she countered, moving her hands from underneath the covers to rest on his shoulders. “And if you can’t believe that right now, then believe this: I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

He didn’t respond with words this time. Instead, he wound his arms around her frame to pull her in, holding her like she truly was the only thing anchoring him to the world. And perhaps, for the time being, that was exactly what she chose to be.

They stayed like that for a while as the morning stretched on, ignoring the cries of the alarm that alerted them of the danger of running late for work. And honestly? The world could wait.

happy new year everybody 💙

comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💙

#son heung min #heung min son #son heungmin #heungmin son #footballer x reader #son heung min fanfic #son heung min fic #sonny #footballer imagine #football #son heungmin drabble #son heung min x you #son heung min one shot #son heung min scenario #son heung min x reader #son heungmin imagine #son heung min imagine #son heung min fluff

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