𝕎𝕙𝕠'𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕓𝕚𝕒𝕤?
You weren’t supposed to matter, but he made sure you did.
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𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅!𝖲𝖺𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍
𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝖬𝖣𝖭𝖨, 𝖲𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗐𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝖬𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗈, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 (𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅 𝗑 𝖿𝖺𝗇), 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖽𝗎𝖻 𝖼𝗈𝗇 (𝗂𝗌𝗁 - 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗎𝗉), 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗒/𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗋 (𝖿), 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒, 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝖾), 𝗌𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 (𝖿), 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗉𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺, 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍/𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗎𝗍.
𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌: 9.7𝗄
𝖠𝖭: 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗌𝗄. 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 (𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒…)
𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗎𝗇
𝖱𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 🤍
---------
If anyone asked you how you got here, right now, they wouldn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth.
You’d posted a video of San during his Creep solo with a sarcastic caption, and he’d messaged you about it. You didn’t believe it was him. Of course you were skeptical - scammers are a dime a dozen nowadays.
But then he challenged you - told you to wear a red top at their next show where you told him you had barricade, and he would point and wink at you.
Which he did.
That’s when you realised this was, in fact, Choi San who you’d been talking to.
It sounds delusional, doesn’t it?
Even more delusional was the fact that you’d kept in contact since. It’s been weeks since the concert, maybe a couple of months, but every now and then, you see his name pop up in your inbox, and it sends a jolt of excitement through you.
Still, you’ve tried not to let it affect you.
He’s an idol. You’re a fan. He’s nice, but that’s it. End of story. Nothing else.
Except that he’s the first person you messaged when you landed in Incheon for your week and a half solo trip. You don’t know why, exactly. You didn’t even think to update your friends and family first. And he’d responded instantly, expressing relief that your flight went well, and to let him know when you got to your accommodation.
But it was nothing. Again, he’s just a nice guy.
So nice that he checked in with you every day, asking how you were finding Seoul. You didn’t meet in the four days you’ve been here, but it almost felt like he was on this trip with you. You’d post a story, send him a text or ask a question, and he’d reply almost instantly, no matter the time.
You just hadn’t told him where you were going tonight.
It felt weird telling an idol that you wanted to go clubbing in notorious Hongdae of all places. Not exactly idol friendly and not known for its high class, but it’s also somewhere you’d been dying to go to. As everyone said, you haven’t gone to Seoul if you didn’t go out in Hongdae.
Plus, you’d met some girls at a cafe in Seongsu who were also there on holiday, and you had collectively decided to go out together. You just sort of… lost sight of them, at some point between being pulled into a club and being handed a shot of tequila.
Who cares, you’re having fun regardless.
San is still awake at 2am, his mind unable to stop thinking about the fact that you’re here, in Seoul - in Hongdae, so damn close to him. The photo you’d uploaded to your story had his head spinning. Your outfit left little to the imagination, with thigh high frilly socks squeezing your skin just so, and he both wanted to tear it off of you and cover you from anyone else’s gaze.
He opens the app again, your name already in the search bar. There’s a bright circle around your picture and his heart stops for a second, not sure if he’s ready to see what else you posted, but his thumb clicks on it before his mind can decide.
There you are, posing with a bottle of champagne in one hand, sparklers in the other. Someone else is taking the photo, and automatically his mind wants to know who that is, looking for any clues on the screen, but there’s none.
There’s another slide, a video. This time, you’re dancing on one of the tables, a man behind you who you don’t even seem to be aware of - until you turn and start dancing with him, and San’s vision turns red.
The hashtag reads #wheninHongdae.
“Right.” He scoffs to himself, putting his phone down and turning over for the hundredth time.
He tries not to think about it - doesn’t want to think about it. Except all his mind is doing is replaying that video. He screws his eyes shut, so tightly stars start appearing behind his eyelids, but all they do is make the image of you become hazy.
He grunts, turning back towards his phone, opening the app and replaying the video. Again. And again.
The more he watches, the more he can tell how drunk you are, your heeled boots wobbling slightly on the slippery surface, fingers tightly wrapped around the metal structure on the ceiling.
He clicks on your conversation, fingers flying over the keyboard.
ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇ?
He doesn’t expect an answer so soon but your reply comes in almost instantly - well, not quite a reply. His phone lights up with the “Video call incoming” screen. His first reaction is to freeze. You’ve never called before. He knows he shouldn’t. He won’t.
But if he doesn’t, what will you think? And what if you need help and he leaves you alone?
“Heyyyyy!” You singsong as soon as he answers.
The music is incredibly loud behind you, the bass making his phone speakers vibrate against his palm. The connection isn’t the best, but he can tell your eyes are bloodshot from the alcohol, making him worry more than he should.
“Why are you calling?”
“Huh?” You shout, bringing the phone closer to your face until all he can see is your hair.
“Why are you calling me when you’re out clubbing?” He enunciates.
You pull away, phone in front of your face again - your face which is beaming with a smile so radiant it makes his heart beat a little faster.
“Cause you texted. I wan’ed talk t’ you.”
Despite the sentence being completely slurred, he can feel his stomach flip. Even though you’re on holiday, on a night out, you still wanted to talk to him…
“Are you having fun?”
You nod, more dramatically than necessary.
“Hongdae’s great. Free aloco- alcohol. Sorry.” You say with a giggle at your slurred word.
“I can see that.”
He wishes he had it in him to scold you for being so drunk when you’re all alone, but he can’t help but feel happy to see you so carefree.
“Why you up? ‘s late!”
He chews on his lip for a moment. “I was worrying about you.”
The way your lips pout and brows furrow at his words makes butterflies erupt in his chest, a swarm he tries his best to ignore.
“Aww you’re so cuuute. ‘m fine though. S’rious- oh my god!”
“What happened?”
“They playin’ ATEEZ listen!”
You bring the phone up to the speakers, the volume making him wince, but he can hear the faint instrumentals of Bouncy playing through them.
The way you’re jumping around and dancing has him starting to feel queasy - until the screen turns black.
He sits up in his bed, covers half of off his suddenly boiling body. “Y/n?”
There’s a moment of interminable silence as his mind races through the different possibilities of what could have happened. He tries calling your name again but the music is too loud. Your face suddenly appears on the screen again and he breathes out a sigh of relief.
“Sorry. Fell.”
“The phone or you?”
You wince, showing him your scratched up elbow. “Both.”
His heart is hammering in his chest. “Right, that’s it. I’m sending someone to pick you up. You’re too drunk and I don’t want to keep worrying about you. You’re gonna come back here, and I’m gonna sober you up before you go back to your accommodation.”
You start whining but he cuts you off.
“This isn’t up for discussion y/n. Go outside, Ryeok will get to you in ten minutes. Don’t. Move. And don’t hang up.”
You pout again but nod your head yes as you heed his request, making your way up the stairs to the bustling street.
Thankfully, his manager sees the text within minutes, already on his way to you.
San hates not being able to go get you himself, make sure you’re okay with his own eyes, but this is the only way. You’re still on the line, like he requested, holding the phone with crossed arms as you scan the street for the awaited car. You look so innocent like that, not trying to put on a front for social media, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips.
The ride back to his dorm is a blur.
Ryeok doesn’t say a word, probably feeling just as awkward about the situation as you do. But he’s nice, and he doesn’t judge you, even when you struggle to get into the car and he has to hold your hand so you don’t fall.
It’s embarrassing to say the least.
You have no idea where you are, but after a sequence of hazy streetlights and cars, you stop, and your mind takes a second to follow.
You bring your head up with a groan.
“감사합니당.”
He flashes you a small smile as the door opens. You look at it in confusion - if you didn’t open it and Ryeok is sitting right there then…
San’s smile is the first thing you see as you look up - warm, comforting, and familiar despite never having been face to face before.
For some reason, although you knew you were going to see him, your drunken mind hadn’t quite realised he was going to be there. In front of you. In person. Not on a screen, not on FaceTime, not even on a stage separated from you by barricades and staff. He’s here in the flesh - or rather, you are there in front of him. In front of his apartment building.
He holds out his hand to you. You stare at it. Then at him. And back at his hand.
“You know, it’s pretty late. I’m sure Ryeok hyung would like to go get some sleep.”
Your cheeks are burning at his words, and you turn to apologise to the man before grabbing San’s hand and scrambling out with as much dignity as you can muster.
He leans into the car, his hand never leaving yours as he mumbles something inaudible to his manager, before he gives him a small wave and shuts the door, leaving him free to return home.
San doesn’t say a word, he just holds your hand as he carefully guides you through the building doors and all the stairs and turns, until you arrive at his dorm.
“Seonghwa and Mingi are asleep so try not to be too loud. They’re heavy sleepers and the walls are pretty thick but still.”
You don’t answer or move as the realisation dawns on you. This isn’t just San’s dorm. Of course it isn’t. You’re breathing heavily now, panting a little at the overwhelming turn that this night has taken.
He hears you and stops dialing the code to the door.
“Hey, hey. It’s fine. You’re fine. They won’t mind. You’re not doing anything wrong - I’m the one who brought you back here to sober up. Okay? And as soon as you’ve had some food and water and can walk straight, I’ll call you a taxi and you can leave. Alright?”
His tone is gentle and soothing, his hand squeezing yours, and you nod, though your heart is still racing in your chest.
Of all the ways you ever imagined meeting any member of ATEEZ, being drunk, in a mini skirt and tube top, and reeking of smoke and sweat, isn’t remotely close to what you’d imagined…
The beep of the door as it unlocks makes you jolt, but you try your best to be quiet - maybe a little too much, as you see San chuckle at your exaggeratedly slow steps. He takes off his shoes and you do the same, the cool floor a welcome contrast to the heat and humidity outside.
You take in the place for a second.
It’s simple.
The kitchen has all the basic necessities, a few photos hung up on the fridge with an extensive collection of magnets from different places they’ve toured. The living room only has a couch, a coffee table, and a tv, though you notice a PlayStation plugged in which makes you smile. They’re such dorks.
For a moment, you forget why you’re here, until San hands you a glass of water and a couple of hangover pills.
“They’ll help. Trust me.” He mutters the last part, almost to himself.
You smile at him and take the lot, electricity crackling where your fingertips touch his palm. The cold water is an immediate relief as you feel it flow through your system. You hear some rustling and see him pull out a box.
“Come here so I can clean your elbow.”
You hesitate. “‘s okay, doesn’t hurt.”
“Let me clean it up anyway.”
You roll your eyes - which is a big mistake because it feels like the room has been turned upside down - but oblige, walking slowly until you can lean on the counter.
He takes out a sterile pad and sprays it with alcohol, looking at you with a scrunched face.
“It’s gonna sting, I’m sorry.”
He grabs your arm gently, exposing your elbow to him and you can’t help but watch him, mesmerised. He’s so pretty when he’s all serious like that.
Carefully, he lowers the pad to your wound and you wince, whining at the burn. He wishes the sound didn’t affect him the way it did because it feels wrong.
“Stay still.”
You bite your lip but do as he says, brows drawn as the sting begins to subside. Then he takes out a pink plaster and carefully covers your now clean wound with it.
His hand lingers on your forearm and neither of you makes a move to create some distance. His eye contact is intimidating and you hold it, not from choice, but from compulsion.
You’re the one to break the silence.
“How c’me boys ‘ve cute pink plasters?”
He smiles at your question, finally letting go of your arm to clean up. You feel the loss of his warmth immediately.
“My sister got us some refills. She thought it’d be funny if all we had were pink plasters.” He looks at you from the corner of his eyes. “At least it suits one of us.”
You laugh, cheeks matching your new accessory.
“Thanks.” You point to your arm. “‘n thanks.”
He just nods his head in response, puffing his cheeks as he looks away. He’s so cute your drunken heart could explode.
“I’m gonna make myself some ramen. Want any?”
“That’s great, thanks.”
You watch as he boils the water, pours it in the pots and lets the concoction cook before pouring out the water and mixing the spices. He looks so homely, so mundane. It feels a little surreal, but in this moment, he doesn’t feel like an idol. He feels like a man in his twenties making a midnight snack. Except he’s a really, really hot man. With muscles. And dimples.
You clear your throat.
“You mind ‘f I go sit?”
He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Do you need help?”
He starts reaching out for you but you take a step back in panic.
“No - ‘m good. Aaaall good.”
His eyebrows are a little furrowed. “Okay, if you say so.”
You wobble on over to the grey fabric, sinking into the surprisingly comfortable cushions. The room is swaying a little and you try to focus on the canvas filled with red, blue and black abstract lines. You recognise it, but your brain is too foggy to remember where from.
San places the pot and some chopsticks on the table in front of you.
“Careful, it’s really hot.”
“Mmh…” You perk your head up as the smell hits your nose. “Is that cheese? D’you add cheese?”
“Yeah, wh-“
“Oh my god I love you.” You blurt out, completely oblivious to what you’ve just said to him as you grab the pot, wincing at the temperature but eventually placing it on the pillow in your lap.
He just stares at you, blinking occasionally, star struck. He can tell you have no idea what you’ve just said and that you didn’t mean it like that, but why did it make him feel so good?
He waits for you to take a bite before doing the same, delighting at his stomach finally being filled - he couldn’t eat dinner earlier knowing you were out alone in Hongdae.
You continue slurping your noodles with just as much excitement as before, and he can’t help but think of how cute you look with your cheeks full and your eyes big and shining. You almost remind him of Seonghwa when you eat.
When you finish, you sink back into the couch, the room much more steady than before. Tentatively, you turn your head to look at San, who’s already looking at you softly, his head laying on his fist and his tired eyes heavy.
“What?” You ask quietly.
He shakes his head. “It’s odd. Having you here. We’ve only spoken on instagram. I didn’t expect…”
“I know.” You purse your lips to try and hide the way your cheeks are burning. “Tomorrow when I wake up I’m gonna pretend this was just a big drunken dream. It’s easier to swallow than the reality.”
A pang of hurt crosses his face but he just smiles at you.
“Well, I’m completely sober.”
He leans just slightly closer, and you catch the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the homey smell of the ramen you just ate. Your stomach flutters, and for a second you wonder if this is actually a dream.
You stand up suddenly, your head not quite agreeing with the abrupt movement. The floor tilts slightly beneath you and you clench your teeth until the world has spun back on its axis.
“I should go. I’m feeling better.”
“No you’re not.”
You scoff. “I am!”
“It just took you three whole seconds to stop swaying when you stood up. Stay a little longer.”
He grabs your wrists, locking you in place. He’s not sure why he’s doing it. If you say you’re fine, he should let you go. But he doesn’t want it to be over yet, you barely just got here…
You sigh, unable to resist him. “Fine, I’ll stay a little longer. But I promise I’m - whoops - fine.”
He just laughs at you, a genuine but slightly judgemental laugh, one that you reciprocate.
“You just almost fell while standing still. What makes you think you’re gonna be able to walk straight?”
“Hey!” You protest half heartedly. “At least my sentences make sense now. And there’s only one of you.” You say, trying to hold your index finger up in his grip.
He nods softly. “That’s a great sign.” He hesitates a moment. “Why do you wanna leave so badly anyways? Am I bad company?”
You blush. “No, you’re great. I just don’t wanna impose. And you’re an idol so it’s a little weird…”
He looks away at your words. He knows exactly what you mean. Yet, none of this feels wrong to him. You act so normally around him, it makes him feel like he’s just a man, for once.
“You know,” you start, a mischievous glint in your eyes despite the wobble in your stance, “you’re not even my bias…”
He stares at you for a second.
He did not expect you to say that. Nor did he expect to be jealous - and yet he wishes you hadn’t told him. They all know that their fans have preferences so this isn’t the first time he’s heard it. Still, coming from you, it feels wrong. Plus, how could he not be? After all, you’ve made so many videos and posts about him, you’ve been talking to him all this time… Surely you’re lying.
“Oh, really? And who would be your bias?”
You giggle a little, the remnants of alcohol making you feel lighter than normal.
“I can’t tell you.”
“Sure you can.” He holds your wrists a little tighter, pulling you towards him until your knees are pressed against his. “Just say the name.”
You shake your head - a little too hard as your vision takes a second to adjust.
“Come on Princess, don’t leave me hanging. I’m curious now.”
Your cheeks flush at the pet name. His thumbs are rubbing the inside of your wrists and the motion is distracting you.
“Mingi.” You finally whisper. “Mingi’s my bias.”
He stares into your eyes at the reveal, feeling a wave of jealousy and competitiveness run through his entire being.
“Why?”
You blink at him. “Huh?”
“Why him and not me?”
He pulls you down further, forcing you to sit on his lap, and you’re hyper aware of how little clothing you have on, the back of your thighs separated from him only by his joggers.
You’re inches from his face now, and the proximity has your head spinning more than all the alcohol you ingested tonight.
“He…”
Right this moment, sitting on San’s lap, his strong grip on your wrist and his breath fanning your face, you can’t quite think of a single reason.
“He what?”
You swallow loudly, your throat suddenly dry.
“I…”
He chuckles, a hint of darkness in his eyes.
“Has the cat got your tongue? Oh wait, no he doesn’t, he’s not your bias.”
You look down as you bite your lip, suddenly feeling guilty, though you have no reason to be.
He tilts your chin up with his finger, forcing you to look at him again.
“Come on. Give me one good reason why he’s your bias and not me. Have all the times we’ve spent texting not made you have a single desire to switch?”
Your breathing is heavier, shallower.
Of course the countless hours spent texting meant something. Made you feel something. But, you don’t know what that something is. And it has nothing to do with biases anyways… right?
You try your best to gather your thoughts, ignoring how his warmth is pulsing through you and his smell is invading your nervous system.
“He just feels… big. Without trying.” Your gaze flicks to his lips for a tiny beat before looking in his eyes again. “Like he’d ruin me… and I’d let him.”
San’s breathing hitches at your last sentence, his cheeks turning a slight hue of red.
“What does that make me - do I seem like the safe option to you?”
His hands start travelling to your waist, slowly making their way down to your hips and thighs. You shudder at his touch, unexpected but intoxicating.
“Do I look like I don’t know what I’m doing?”
His fingers hook behind your knees, jerking you forward in one smooth motion until you’re impossibly close to him, reflexively grabbing onto his shirt. He ghosts his lips over yours, and tilts his head slightly.
“Or do you just need me to show you properly?”
He has no idea what he’s doing or saying. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t not.
You’re here, finally, after weeks of only communicating through text, and you’ve just revealed to him that he’s not the one you think of when you think of ATEEZ? Like you’re not the first person who comes to his mind when he wakes up. Or the last person he wants to text before bed. Or the one he thinks of every time he sees a red top that remotely resembles the one you wore to their show.
There are no words in your brain, only a buzzing - so incredibly loud from the feeling of his touch on your bare skin.
“Yeah, we’re gonna fix that right now.”
He doesn’t let you absorb the information as he suddenly stands, lifting you up with him. You squeal, holding on even more tightly to him, but his grip on you is firm. His steps are hurried towards the bedroom, kicking the door shut.
As soon as it is, his lips crash into yours.
There’s control in the way he kisses you, and there’s also desperation. He’s not just trying to prove a point - he’s been aching to kiss you for weeks.
You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking of what his lips would feel like the whole night. Looking at them as he spoke and ate, so plush and pink, so smooth and oh so tempting - you’d had to stop yourself from leaning in a few times.
And now, tasting him… it’s everything you thought it would be and more. You cup his face as he presses your back against the wall, squishing you against him so his hand can roam over your body.
His tongue prods at your lips and you let him in gladly, all too happy to taste him. He looks sweet, yet he tastes more dangerous than you ever thought he would.
His fingers caress your thigh. Your legs that are hooked securely around his waist twitch from the softness of his touch. He brings his hand up to your hip leisurely, making sure to slide it below the fabric of your denim skirt, and you moan in his mouth. The sound drives him insane, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass in response.
“San…”
Your core is begging for his touch, but he doesn’t want to go there yet. He wants to take his time. This might be the only time he gets to see and touch you - he’s not about to let it go to waste. Especially not when your admission to biasing Mingi is still ringing in his ears.
His lips trail down your jaw and neck, making sure to suck on the tender skin until he’s sure you won’t wake up to thinking tonight was just a dream.
Your fingers wrap in his hair, tugging with every branded kiss. He’s not quite rough, not quite soft. He’s his own personal brand of exhilarating.
The room is spinning in the distance, but it’s not from the alcohol anymore.
He continues his path down to your collarbones and the top of your chest. You lean your head back against the wall as you pant, fingers tightening in his black strands.
He wants to claim every inch of you, until you can’t think of anyone other than him. Somehow, you’ve managed to make him become obsessed with you, and he won’t stop until you feel the same about him.
Your hands come around to his chest, digging into his flesh for a moment before trying to bring his face back up to meet yours, but he grabs your wrists with one hand, pinning them above your head. His palm and fingers engulf yours effortlessly, and you’re completely powerless against his strength.
These muscles aren’t for show.
His teeth graze against your skin, right above where the hem of your top has started sliding down. He clamps his teeth around the fabric, pulling it down further to reveal your already perked tits.
“Fuck.”
One simple curse, but it tells you everything you need to know. Your body is trembling with anticipation, forced to look at him, unable to move.
He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, almost unconsciously. His breath flutters against your sensitive nipples, making you whimper before he’s even touched you.
He likes that. A lot. You’re more responsive to him than he thought you would be, and it excites him. It means you’re not too far gone. Even better, it means you want him. Desperately.
His tongue laps at the bud, pulling a long sigh from you, which becomes a loud moan when his lips wrap around it. His attention switches between both breasts, leaving neither unloved or uncared for. Your fingers are tingling in his palm from how hard he’s pinning your hands down, aching to touch him too.
The rough wall scrapes against your shoulder blades with every arch of your back but his touch makes you forget about it.
He’s so attuned to every sound and reaction you have, you wonder whether this really is your first time meeting in person. You don’t let your mind think about that last part too hard though, or fear of repercussions and backlash creep into your head. This is so crazy. He’s an idol you’ve never met. You shouldn’t be allowed to be here.
And god does he know it. Every rational thought in his head is telling him he shouldn’t be doing that. That he’ll get the both of you in trouble. And you’ve had too much to drink. This could create a scandal if anyone found out.
Except that when he feels the way your body is responding to him, sees that heated look in your eyes, and hears your beautiful sounds, he knows you’re fully aware of what’s going on and that you want to be here just as badly as he does.
Fuck stereotypes and expectations.
“Let me touch you…” You beg.
He nips at your skin in protest. “Thought you liked the idea of letting Mingi ruin you?”
You gasp, choking on air. He really went there…
“You’re not Mingi.”
He pulls away from you, looking into your eyes with mischief written all over his features.
“No. I’m better.”
Your spine arches into him at the implication, but you try to keep a semblance of control and nonchalance through shaky breaths.
“I don’t know. Never had him.”
He brings your hands down, blood flowing to your extremities again, though his grip on them stays unflinching.
“After tonight you won’t want to.”
He doesn’t close the distance immediately. Neither do you. You take a second to absorb his words, gazing into his shiny brown eyes in the glow of the moonlight bathing the room.
Part of you understands that this isn’t just about biases and sexual tension anymore. The other part rebukes it, knowing this will never happen again. That it won’t lead to anything. That it can’t.
Your throat tightens at the thought but you push it away, locking your lips onto his instead. He can feel the desperation in your touch, reciprocating it instantly.
“Make sure I don’t forget then.” You plead.
His grip on your ass tightens as he pulls away from the wall, dropping you on the bed without letting go of your lips. It’s a mixture of clashing teeth and tangling tongues now, the fever of the moment having taken over.
He’s let go of your wrists at last, hands roaming over your figure, squeezing every part of you he can reach.
Your moans and whimpers intensify with every passing moment, wetness pooling between your legs just as quickly.
Suddenly, he pulls you to your knees, standing next to the bed as he slowly unties his joggers.
“You hungry baby?”
You nod frantically, walls clenching around air and saliva pooling in your mouth at the thought of taking his cock.
His heart is beating out of his chest as he lowers the grey sweats. He’s been dreaming about this - literally. He lost count of the amount of mornings where he woke up rock hard from dreaming of you and had to fuck his fist to relieve some of the ache - although it was never quite right.
They say don’t imagine your idols in these scenarios. Respectfully, you hadn’t - had tried your best not to. So seeing the outline of his length in his boxers, the small wet patch where precum was seeping through, felt surreal. Watching your fingers hook in his waistband and tug it down didn’t feel like you were doing it. It was like watching someone who looked like you do this to someone who looked like San.
Except that the heat radiating from his cock was all too real, the whimper escaping his mouth as you wrapped your hand around him all too needy.
You look up at him as you start moving your fist up and down slowly. He keeps his eyes on you, jaw slack, brows drawn together.
You’re so perfect, all he wants to do is fuck you until you’re nothing but a whimpering, blabbering mess on his bed. The sight of your shiny eyes, tits wet from his tongue and socks digging into the supple flesh of your thighs makes his cock twitch in your hand.
He grabs your chin gently, caressing your bottom lip, spreading your saliva on it until it’s glistening.
“Open.”
You’re so obedient, your mouth opening instantly - even sticking your tongue out for him. Slowly, he guides his cock to your lips, letting the warmth of your tongue linger on his tip.
“Sit on your hands.”
Again, you react immediately to his command, fingers wedging themselves between your thighs and calves until they’re trapped.
Only then does he start pushing in, inch by inch, allowing you to adjust to him, until your nose is pressed flush to his public bone.
He’s so big, your jaw is stretched almost painfully, gagging against him, but you don’t move. You hold his gaze as tears form in your eyes, focusing on breathing through your nose.
He pulls away a little, letting you breathe, before beginning to move his hips back and forth. It’s unfair to not be able to touch him once again, but you still do as he says.
He grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it between his teeth so he can look at you without obstruction, and you moan at the sight of his perfect body. The vibrations make his hips stutter, but you take over, bobbing your head against his warm cock.
This must be what heaven feels like.
The mere thought of how good he feels in your mouth and just how incredible he would feel inside you has you short of breath. The world is spinning around you. All you know is you can’t stop sucking him.
He grabs the back of your head - not to push, just to guide you. Every point of contact feels electric - dizzying. There’s something so inevitable about the chemistry between you two. It all feels so natural and obvious, like he knows you inside out.
“Feels so good baby, ah just like that.”
His words are muffled by his shirt but it does nothing to dampen the way it makes your heart flutter with pride. Your fingers are tingling, begging to touch him, though you stay put as he asked.
Saliva is starting to pool at the corner of your lips, your eyes prickled with tears, but his face looks so beautiful like that, you never want to stop.
He’s getting more and more tense now, tiny whimpers passing his lips that grow louder with each one, and you can tell he’s getting close to the edge - so you start going a little faster, a little deeper, a little tighter. His hand is gripping your hair almost painfully now, pushing you to the hilt. Another few passes of your tongue on the underside of his shaft as your cheeks hollow, and then-
“Fuck argh gon’ - ah”
His cum shoots straight down your throat - thick, warm, salty ropes that you make sure to swallow, the movements of your throat coaxing more and more out of him, making his high last as long as possible.
The sounds he makes… holy shit they drive you insane.
He pulls out as soon as he stops twitching inside you, pulling his boxers up and instantly pushing you down on the bed for a hungry kiss. You haven’t quite caught your breath yet but you reciprocate it with just as much fervor.
His hands are everywhere, like they don’t know what to touch first, like he’s mapping you in his brain.
You graze your fingers under his shirt, feeling his soft abs, mumbling a muffled ‘oh my god’ at the realisation of just how perfect he is.
Your reaction makes him smile against your mouth, fingertips digging into your legs that have fallen spread on either side of him. He glides his fingers up your inner thigh, coming closer and closer to your burning core. Your instinct is to pull away, but his weight on you locks you firmly in place.
He pauses just above your center, letting you squirm beneath him.
Slowly… deliberately… he swipes his thumb along the edge of your panties.
A soft whimper escapes him as it slides across the wetness, and your stomach twists with the need he can already feel.
“You’re a desperate girl aren’t you?”
“Mmph your cock w’s just so good. Need you.”
“I can feel that.”
His thumb rubs over your burning centre a little harder, making you shudder and your breath quicken. His face is still right next to yours, pupils dilated as he takes in your expressions. You hold his gaze, but your face is all scrunched up with need and he can’t get enough.
He slides the fabric aside as he leans over to kiss your jaw, slowly pushing in a finger - you arch into him. Without hesitation, he starts waving his finger in an intoxicating pattern that somehow hits your sensitive spot instantly.
Your little pants and squeals as you bite your lip have his head spinning.
“You’re so beautiful, you know that?”
He adds another finger, making you choke on air.
“Had me going fucking insane in that outfit. Dancing with that guy, letting him touch you… That was supposed to be me.” He squeezes your breast as he looks at your already fucked out face. “It is me.”
“You.” You agree mindlessly.
You dig your fingers in his arms to try and relieve some of the pressure already building at the base of your spine, not even clocking the size of the biceps you’re destroying - that are destroying you.
His thumb starts circling your clit and you cry loudly - probably too loud given your proximity to the other members. San doesn’t mind. He’s still too focused on what you said earlier, and he almost wants them to hear how good he makes you feel - at the very least Mingi. He always gets such a rep with fans for being a beast in bed. If only they knew he wasn’t the only one. But you’ll know. Soon enough.
Your moans pull him out of his competitive reverie and he smiles, adjusting his arm to hit even deeper inside you.
“Come on baby, think you can cum for me?”
“Y-yes yes please San yes.”
His cock twitches against the covers from your beautiful broken pleas. Your cheeks are flushed red now, a shiny sheen of sweat beginning to coat your skin, and all he wants to do is lick it - so he does. His tongue laps up at your tits, your neck, your jaw, until he finally reaches your mouth again.
He adds one more finger, and that’s when you finally unravel around him, practically screaming in his mouth from the force of your orgasm and the remaining effects of the alcohol loosening your inhibitions.
“That’s it, good girl.” He mumbles against your mouth as he works you through it. “You’re doing so good for me. Can you give me one more?”
You shake your head slightly, but your gummy walls pulsing around his fingers tell him otherwise.
“I think you’re being shy. She’s asking for more already…”
He leaves your mouth to lower himself between your legs despite your half hearted protests. A small whimper escapes him at the sight of your glistening folds - a sound that travels straight to your head.
His voice comes out raspy and ragged. “Need to taste you.”
Before you can say anything, his tongue has replaced his fingers that are now holding your thighs apart.
“Argh fuck S-San.”
You’re sliding into overwhelming territory but your hips rut against his face anyway.
It’s hard to describe how incredible it feels - because it’s hard to comprehend who’s doing this to you. You keep saying his name, yet somehow it’s still not registering that it’s him doing this. Even when you open your eyes, looking down between your legs to see his messy black hair, tanned skin and small, hazy brown eyes, you still don’t get it. And maybe that’s part of why it feels so incredible. It’s not just about what, it’s about who.
The odds were unfavourable, and yet here you are. Being eaten out and utterly ruined by Choi San.
The sounds coming from his mouth are filthy - he’s making no effort to be quiet as he drinks up your arousal, sucking on your bundle of nerves. Every now and then, he groans at your taste, and the vibrations have you whimpering.
It’s like a cat and mouse game.
He licks. You moan. He groans. You whimper.
Your fingers tangle in his soft hair, pushing him further into you and he can’t help but smile, hips bucking into the mattress a little to try and relieve some of the ache. How can he not when the woman he’s been fantasising about is grinding her pussy in his face?
“Need you to cum babygirl.” He grunts between licks.
The pet name has your legs shaking even harder, your orgasm coming closer and closer. His tongue plunges even deeper inside of you, nails digging crescent shaped indents in your thighs, and you explode in his mouth with loud cries. He’s drinking it all up, intoxicated by your body and taste as your juices flood his tongue.
“Mmh so good for me.”
His voice comes out primal as he looks up, licking his glistening lips.
“F-fuck San, holy sh-shit.”
Your body is still twitching as he sits up, taking in the sight of you as he gently rubs your thighs. His eyes catch the white fabric squeezing them, and mindlessly, he hooks a finger under the hem, pulling it away and letting it snap back, making you jolt.
“Were you trying to make me hard when you put those on?”
You swallow, throat dry.
“I didn’t know.”
He tilts his head, a crease between his brows. “Didn’t know what?”
You bite your lip, unsure how to word it. “I didn’t know you were watching. Didn’t know you liked me like that.”
He snickers as he lowers himself inches away from your mouth.
“I don’t usually waste my time texting someone I don’t give a fuck about, Princess.” He pecks your still panting lips. “I don’t have my manager go get someone at 2am from Hongdae because she’s drunk and wearing a mini skirt that shows off her perfect ass to everyone.” He slaps it, hard enough for the imprint of his hand to make an appearance in the morning. “I don’t ever break every rule in the idol rule book, especially for a girl I don’t like.”
His words take you by surprise, each one knocking what little air you have out of your lungs. They seep through your skin, into your bones, making their way into your veins and into your heart. Your heart that picks up with no warning at beautiful words that won’t mean anything by tomorrow despite how much you want them to.
You swallow through your dry throat, looking for the right words to express how you feel, despite the remnants of alcohol fogging your brain.
“You’re just saying things. You like me, but you can’t like me. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
He scoffs. “It’s getting offensive how much you doubt me.”
“Prove it.”
The words come out of their own accord, defiant, looking for something to hold on to. You grab his face, fingertips weaving through his soft hair, his own grabbing your waist a little tighter.
“I’m already in your bed. There’s no need to convince me to stay the night. So, prove you’re not just saying pretty words.”
He slowly buries his face in your neck, kissing your pulse.
“I thought I already was… but if I need to double down, I’m happy to oblige Princess.”
He sits up, grabbing his shirt by the collar and pulling it over his head in one swift, effortless motion. The sight makes you salivate as he stands still for a second, letting you admire him as he does the same to you. The tips of your fingers graze his soft waist, creating ripples and ridges in his tanned skin as you squeeze it, grabbing on to every inch you can.
He throws his head back, revelling in the way your touch makes him shiver, his cock begging for the kind of attention you’re giving to the rest of him.
His fingers skilfully unbutton your denim skirt, wiggling it off of you, before he does the same with your panties - though he takes his time with them. His eyes are wide and his pupils dilated as he takes in the sight of the fabric peeling off of your soaked skin. A little pride hits him - that was all his doing. Lastly, he wiggles your pretty black lace top from your waist, making it join the rest of your discarded clothes on the floor.
You feel shy, suddenly, fully exposed to him whilst he still has half of himself covered, and your hands tug at the hem of his waistband.
“You too.”
He smirks. “You don’t have any patience, pretty girl.”
You sit on your elbows, looking at him under your lashes, a sudden boost of confidence flowing through you.
“If you don’t feel up to the challenge just say it, I’ll go find Mingi - or Seonghwa.”
You have no idea where that came from - probably the tequila still sloshing through your brain - but whatever it is, the effect is immediate. The joggers are discarded within a half second before he’s right back on top of you, spreading your legs impossibly wide until his tip lays against your wet core and you whimper.
“You ready?”
You nod, completely desperate and on edge, and his small smirk makes you shiver.
“No you’re not, but it’s cute of you to think you are.”
He presses on your legs harder so you open to an almost painful point, making you wince. He stares at the way your cunt still flutters around air from the remnants of his fingers.
“Now breathe and relax.”
The stretch burns so good you cry out as you feel him fill you up to the hilt.
“Damn baby, you’re so tight - fuck - you need to let me in.”
“C-can’t.” You gasp, eyes screwed shut.
The air shifts around you and he stops. You open your eyes to see him leaning over you, his Chrome Hearts necklace dangling above your chest.
“Yes, you can.”
He nudges your nose up with his, his soft lips on yours in an instant. Then he starts pushing in again, and this time, his mouth distracts you enough that you finally let him in. Low whimpers echo in his mouth when he bottoms out, and you drink them up eagerly.
He starts moving his hips, slowly at first. The rasp of his veins and tip against your walls has you clawing at his perfect back, making him grunt even louder than he already was.
“Fuck you take me so well…”
Your cunt flutters at his words making him chuckle with pride.
“You like when I praise you?”
You nod eagerly, biting your lip to prevent another loud moan from getting out.
“You’re dirtier than I thought…”
You rake your nails over his shoulder, relishing in the way his face twists and he winces at the sting.
“You l-love it.”
His hips drive into you so hard your moans stutters, and then his mouth is on yours again.
Teeth clashing against teeth. Tongues tangling in a messy net. Hot breaths mingling into one. The wet slap of your sweaty skins fills the room, loud and obnoxious and completely disregarding the existence of anyone but you two.
The pressure is building in your stomach again, the coil tightening almost painfully, your cunt tightening around him.
“Cum for m-me princess. You can do it again. Need to feel you squeeze my c-cock.”
His thumb is on your clit, circling it with purpose and determination. Your legs are shaking around his waist, hands fisting the sheets and his hair. Your approving moans are getting louder and louder, encouraging him to keep going - until he feels your cunt tighten around him, your cries coming out raspy as he fucks you through it.
“That’s it baby. Such a g-good girl squeezing me like t-that.”
His eyes alternate between your face and the white ring slowly forming around his cock.
The motion of his hips is unrelenting - if anything he’s driving deeper, harder into you.
“T-too mu-uch S-San.” You babble, but he doesn’t care. Your mouth is saying one thing, your body is saying another.
A guttural scream escapes you as your legs are pushed into your chest without warning. He’s so deep into you now you almost feel him in your throat.
“So loud baby, gon’ make the guys jealous.” He grunts, sweat dripping down his forehead onto your boiling skin.
You don’t even have anything to reply, no thoughts left in your head as he pounds into your cervix without mercy. His thrusts are deep and calculated, making sure to leave his imprint inside of you for the next few days.
“You wanted to be ruined, no? Here I am princess.”
He grabs your calf with one hand, kissing it feverishly as he makes sure your legs don’t move with his other hand.
“Do you s-still think Mingi would’ve mmh made you cum like that?”
Your mind is so blank, you don’t even register what he’s saying, only able to babble.
“Hu-uh w-w-wh ngh”
You’re interrupted by the head of his cock hitting your cervix just right once again.
“Think the cat’s g-got your tongue real good now, huh?”
Without warning, he pulls out of you, flipping you onto your knees before plunging back in within the space of two seconds. The angle is even deeper now, if that was possible, your tears flowing freely into the pillow you’re burying your face into.
“Look at your ass - so perfect.” He squeezes it hard before slapping it. “Showing that to everyone.” His hand comes down again, making you cry out, before he soothes the red skin. “Made for me.”
He holds onto the plush skin tightly as he pistons into you, pulling your hips back to meet his, fascinated by the way your skin moves. One of his hands moves to grab your throat, pulling you up so your back meets his chest, lips devouring your shoulders and neck.
“Do you not see how crazy you make me?”
He sinks his teeth into your sweat drenched skin.
“Thinking he’s better - th-thinking I don’t care. Do y-ou get how wrong you are?”
“San…”
“What is it babygirl, what d’you want?”
“M-more. You.”
He smiles, throwing his head back momentarily.
“So greedy…”
He captures your mouth in a hungry, sloppy kiss, before pushing you back down on the bed, burying your face in the pillow. The strength of his thrusts is almost unbearable now. You’re practically screaming into the pillow as he grabs your wrists, pinning them behind your back so he can hold you as he destroys you.
Without warning, you cum again, the cry ripping through your throat. His hips start stuttering from how much you squeeze him, and he can’t take much more.
He pulls out of you just in time to paint your back with his cum, intoxicating moans and whimpers leaving his lips from the relief of his release.
As soon as his hands leave you, your hips fall to the bed, unable to support your weight on your shaking legs. He collapses next to you, panting heavily.
The silence stretches, comfortable, only filled with your breaths as you both try to calm down.
His fingers are grazing your arm mindlessly, soothing you as you continue to come down from the high. When he turns to look at you, your eyes are already on him, half closed, completely out of it, but they still find his.
“You okay princess?”
You nod, swallowing past the dryness in your throat. “I’m great. That… that was great.”
He grins, dimples contrasting with his toned body. “It really was.”
He sits up, crawling off the bed to reach the towel on his desk chair. The soft fabric on your back is oddly relaxing as he wipes himself off of you, making sure to be gentle and not leave anything behind.
Carefully, he wraps you in the towel, grabbing some clothes, before scooping you up and taking you to the bathroom. He helps you wash away all the sweat, cigarettes and alcohol, making sure to not scrub over your scraped elbow. He kisses your lips and skin once or twice - never too much, just enough to feel like your happy bubble is still strong.
Before you know, you’re back in his bed, freshly washed, clean clothes on, tucked into his chest, falling asleep. He listens to your quiet breaths, his thumb stroking your back, until sleep takes over him too.
The sunlight peeking through the curtains wakes you up, San’s small nose whistles grounding you about as much as his arms wrapped around you.
“So this actually did happen…” you whisper to yourself.
His eyes flutter open one at a time.
“Mornin’”
His low gravelly morning voice sends warmth through you, his hands tightening on you.
“Morning.”
You nuzzle deeper into him as you try to process the reality of things.
“How do you feel?”
“Sore.” You chuckle. “Good sore.”
“Mmh, damn right.”
“You?”
He smiles into the pillow.
“Like I had great sex last night.”
You smirk. “Damn right.”
He laughs, readjusting so his back lays flat on the bed.
“How many days do you have left here?”
You look down, saddened by the mention of your departure.
“Five. And a half if you count the morning of my flight, but I won’t be able to do much then…”
He kisses your forehead, tucking you closer into his chest.
“Okay, then that’s five and a half more days of you.” He smirks. “And there’s a lot you can do in one morning.”
You chuckle at the not-so-subtle innuendo.
“That is, if you want to.”
You lift your head up, brows furrowed as you look into his chocolate eyes.
“What do you mean ‘if’ I want to? San,” you start as you push a stray strand of hair from his forehead, “I would love to spend more time with you. Actually if we’re talking about wishes, I would love it if I didn’t have to leave in five days.”
“And a half.”
You giggle, nodding. “And a half. But yes, of course I want to spend more time with you.” You say, softer this time.
You can’t quite bring yourself to say it out loud, but if you were being honest with him, you would say that you want to spend all your time with him. But that’s not possible, of course. He has his job, his schedules. You have plans too. And… you have a life that’s not here.
He can sense your mood has shifted, feeling it inside himself too. He rolls on top of you, caging you into his arms as he peppers your skin with kisses.
“No sad. I don’t want you to be sad. I don’t have a schedule until lunch, so let’s go to breakfast. Then I’ll drop you off at your accommodation. And I’ll pick you up again tonight.”
You giggle when the tips of his hair tickle your skin as he makes his way over your body. He lifts his head up with a beaming smile, golden skin lit by the sunlight peaking through the curtains. How could you possibly say no to that face?
He stands up eagerly, grabbing some clothes from his closet to replace the mess of fabric you wore yesterday.
Your heart rate picks up again from seeing him so homely with you. His perfume lingers on the clothes, mixed with the smell of the laundry detergent, and you can’t help but sneak a whiff when he’s not looking.
You’re wearing San’s clothes. How odd… How odd that it doesn’t feel odd?
“Can’t forget this.” He says as he puts a black hat on your head, handing you a fresh black face mask to match. “Wouldn’t want anyone interrupting our date.”
Your heart stops.
“Is that what this is?”
He puts his necklace on, looking at you with that endearing expression on his face.
“I think so.”
You bite your lip, blush creeping on your cheeks. “I think so too.”
He steps towards you, adjusting the hat again and strokes your cheek with his thumb softly.
“Okay, you can go ahead, I just need to use the bathroom. I’ll be at the front door in a minute.”
You peck him lightly, unable to help yourself, before turning around and leaving his room.
“Damn, he really banged you up well didn’t he?”
You jump as you close the bedroom door, whipping around in a rush. “Ex-excuse me?”
You blink at the tall deep voiced man as he points to the plaster on your elbow.
“Also you make a lot of noise for someone so small.” He winks.
Your cheeks are crimson, burning so hot all you wanna do is disappear.
“S-sorry. I…”
He shakes his head with a laugh. “Don’t be, it’s all good.”
San comes out of his bedroom right as Mingi steps towards the kitchen, grabbing your arm and rubbing it instinctively. He leans down right next to your ear, brushing the hair of your neck. His breath makes you shiver, and you automatically lean into his touch.
“So, who’s your bias now?”
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