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felixknow · 5 months ago

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Bang Chan: Worshipper

sorry, I had to repost this. the last one wasn't showing up in search results.

Smut!!! MDNI, NSFW!!!!! Established relationship w/ plus size c!sfem reader; body image issues and breakdown; d@ddy k!nk, bbygirl said a lot, praise during intimacy, Chris being a soft dom basically <3

Chris opens the door and frowns.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong?”

“How do you know something’s wrong?” you ask quietly, dropping your bag from your shoulder.

“Don’t even get me started. You’re not looking at me for one, and you knocked on my door. Since when do you knock?”

You shrug halfheartedly, kicking your feet a little, nervously shuffling back and forth.

“Can I come in, or…?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, opening the door wider and taking your hand as you step inside. You take off your shoes and sit your purse down, then pass him, letting go of his hand. He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Y/N.”

You shuffle into the living room and drop down onto the couch, curling into yourself against the arm, resting your cheek against the backrest.

“What happened, baby?” Chris asks, sitting behind you and gently trying to pull you toward him. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumble, letting him turn you at least a little so you’re sitting facing forward. “I’m just… pathetic,” you whine, turning your face away from him so he can’t see the heavy tears welling up in your eyes.

“Baby, no you’re not.” He tries to pull you in for a hug, but you panic and thrash, throwing his arms away from you. His mouth falls open in shock, his eyes looking betrayed and hurt, and finally the dam inside of you bursts.

“I’m upset because I saw this beautiful, skinny girl and I saw her beautiful, skinny friends and I just started to feel so disgusting and huge and it didn’t matter how much progress I’ve made loving myself lately because when I saw them I just wanted to cry. I feel so disgusting, Chris. I don’t understand why you’d want to be with someone so huge and blobby. You should be with someone hot and pretty and skinny and beautiful like those girls.”

You can’t meet his eyes.

“I’m disgusting,” you mumble.

You can barely move out of an irrational fear that he’ll suddenly see you as terribly as you suddenly began to see yourself.

“You shouldn’t be with me,” you whimper.

You just want so desperately to shrivel up and disappear.

“Why would you say that?” Chris asks, hurt and empathy dripping from his voice. “Babygirl, you are beautiful. Do you hear me?” He holds your arm and tries yet again to turn you toward him, but you shake your head and keep your head turned away.

“Y/N, I don’t care what other girls look like. ‘Thin’ doesn’t mean ‘beautiful,’ the same way ‘fat’ doesn’t mean ‘ugly.’ It’s okay to have bad days, but you can’t genuinely think that those girls were better or more attractive than you just because something bad happened in your head. This isn’t my baby. Where’s my baby?”

He tries again to turn you toward him, and finally you let him, but you snap.

“This is your baby. Your huge, fat girlfriend who’s twice your size and probably is so fucking ugly when you try to lay her down to make love--”

Your voice cracks.

“How could you even want me? I’m disgusting.”

Finally you break, sobbing and letting him pull you into his open and waiting arms. He holds you tightly, shushing you and rubbing his hands up and down your back.

“No, no, no, don’t ever say that. Don’t do that, Y/N. I love every single bit of you. I think you’re beautiful. I love your body. I love your mind. I love the way you look, in your clothes and out of them. I don’t want a different girl. I want you and all your lovely curves and rolls. Don’t cringe right now, don’t you do that,” he says, scolding you when you flinch at his words. “You say all the time that I looove your curves and your rolls, and you’re right. But for some reason you can’t say it today, so I’m saying it for you. It’s not a bad thing to be big, Y/N. I love you.”

Your cries subside slowly as Chris talks, and finally you settle down to lip wobbles and quiet sniffles.

“I love you,” he says again, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you,” you say quietly.

“Can I see that pretty smile?” He pokes your side, making you turn away from him slightly. You know the barrage of tickles is coming before he even starts.

“Noo,” you whine, trying to scoot away from him, but he locks one arm around you and starts his tickle attack with the other, targeting your sides and your belly. Your laughs come loud and hard. Your lungs are sore almost immediately, and he doesn’t stop despite your desperate gasps of his name amongst your giggles and squeals as you squirm and push against his strong arms.

“You need Daddy to show you how perfect you are, huh?” he asks through gritted teeth despite his smile. His voice is a mix of teasing and stern, ready to slip into his dom role with you at your signal. You can’t respond properly through your laughter despite the slowing of his prodding fingers into your sensitive side.

“I think you need me to worship this beautiful body of yours, yeah?” he asks, urging you to respond. He finally stops tickling you and instead grabs onto one of your thick thighs with one hand while his other hand finds its way around the bottom of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Answer me, Princess, or Daddy’s gonna answer for ya.”

Words still won’t come out between your panting breaths and still-negative thoughts swirling in your head. So you moan in response, staring into Chris’s eyes with your mouth held shut by his grip.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks.

“That’s how it is, eh?” He lets go of your face and leg at the same time and climbs to his feet. “I know just what you need, then. Come with me.” He takes your hands and pulls you up and along behind him, down the hall and into his bedroom. He makes a point of dramatically locking the door behind the two of you before turning toward you with a serious look on his face.

“You’re gonna take what I give you, understand?” he asks before pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor, leaving his impeccably sculpted torso on display for you.

“Yes, Daddy,” you say softly, nodding.

“Good girl. Now I want you to take everything off.” Your face falls. “Ah, ah, don’t argue with me. I said everything.”

Tears involuntarily spring to the corner of your eyes.

“But, Chris--”

“--Who?”

“Daddy…”

“Do as I say. Now.”

“But I’d be more comfortable if we went slow…” Your fingers play with the hem of your shirt nervously.

“I said you’re going to take what I give you, Princess,” he says dangerously and slowly. “Did you misunderstand? I’m not asking. Take it all off. Now. I won’t tell you again.”

You have no choice but to comply. With shaking hands you take off your shirt and bra, then your pants, underwear, and socks until you’re standing in your boyfriend’s room wearing nothing but your own embarrassment.

Chris either doesn't notice or doesn’t care. He hisses as he palms himself and groans when your last shred of clothing hits the floor.

“Fuck. You’re so beautiful, you know that?” You shake your head slightly and cross your arms, holding yourself tightly, trying to cover yourself. “Mm, obviously you don’t or we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Chris crosses the empty space between you and grabs your arms, forcing them down to your sides. He shamelessly pets and squeezes your arms, your chest, your belly, your sides, your back, your hips-- everything he can get his hands on despite your wriggling and whining as you try to turn away from him.

“I love this body,” he mumbles against your neck as he holds your body against his with his hands grabbing two handfuls of your ass. “I love your soft arms and your big stomach and your cute little rolls. You’re so warm and sweet, I could just eat you up.” His lips brush up and down your neck, presses kisses between his praise of you, sucks love bites into the column of your throat.

“I’m gonna fuck the sense back into you,” he says, voice dipping lower, growing closer to a growl. His grip tightens almost painfully on your ass before he massages the force of his grip back out. That’s the kind of night it’s going to be. He’s going to make you take it no matter how hard he gives it, but he’ll always be sure to make it better once he’s satisfied.

“There’s no reason my girl should be doubting me, or herself.” He holds your face in place again, making you look him in the eye. His other hand sweetly pulls your hair to one side and brushes it out neatly before grabbing it in a tight grip. “You think I want a skinny girlfriend? You think I want someone who doesn’t look like you?”

You nod slightly, but his stern look and annoyed tilt of his head makes you quickly correct and shake your head.

“No, no,” you say, trying to correct yourself. “You want me.”

“That’s right,” he says, holding your hair tighter. “If I wanted a skinny girl I’d be with a skinny girl, wouldn’t I? As if I even care about someone’s size. You know, it’s not nice to try to put words into my mouth. Who I ‘should’ date, who I’d ‘look better’ with. It’s insulting, Princess. Are you gonna say sorry for insulting me?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, trying your best to pout.

“How sorry?” he lets go of your face but not your hair.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy. I shouldn’t have said those stupid things. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You gonna be a good girl now and apologize properly?”

You nod frantically.

“Yes. Yes, Daddy. Whatever you want.”

“Lay down on the edge of the bed and let me fuck your throat then.” He finally lets go of your hair and almost shoves you toward the bed by the force of his hand leaving you. Reflexively his other hand catches you and makes sure you’re steady before you get into position.

Rough but sweet.

You climb onto his bed and lay on your back, scooting up until your head and hair hangs off the edge. Chris takes his time removing his pants and underwear, watching you spread yourself out for him despite your deep instinct to cover yourself and hide.

“Good girl,” he praises when you part your lips and hold your mouth open and waiting for him. He sighs and bites back a moan as he strokes himself, slowly shuffling closer and closer to you until he can prod his tip against your lip. You stick your tongue out and try to get a taste of him, but he steps back.

“Ah, ah, ah. I didn’t tell you to do that, did I?”

“No,” you say quietly.

“So behave.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Chris comes closer again and rubs his tip against your lips, tracing them and circling them until he finally decides to push into your mouth. He moans and greedily keeps pushing and pushing until his cock is buried to the hilt and your throat is full of him.

“That’s my good girl,” he says in a low groan. “Ahh, yeah. Such a good fucking girl, hmm?” He slowly pulls back and starts rocking forward again, and all you can do is hum around him to agree and try your best not to gag.

“Fuck. Yeahh,” he hisses, thrusting faster as he reaches out to grab and squeeze your tits. Tears start to roll down your cheeks just from the pressure and the half-gags you have to keep choking down.

“Mmm, my pretty girl. So good for me. Yeahh, just for me, baby. Such a good girl. I love the way you look like this. I love seeing your whole body while I fuck that pretty face.”

He babbles on, praising you while leaning forward to touch your body. He plays with your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. He runs his hands across your stomach, grabbing the rolls at your sides and sweetly rubbing his thumbs against them. His hands wander higher, petting your arms and your chest and finally he caresses your face and notices the tears streaming out of your eyes.

“Oh, babygirl,” he coos, backing up and taking his cock out of your mouth.

“No,” you whine as soon as your mouth is free. “Daddy, noo, come back. Don’t stop, please.”

“Why are you crying, Princess?” he asks, kneeling down and kissing one of the tear trails on the side of your face.

“Just because I was gagging. I’m not crying anymore.”

“You’re not? You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good girl.” He once again grips your chin and turns your head to him. He kisses you deeply, giving a long pause for this gentle intimacy before he gets back to his ultimate goal: fucking every single shred of self-doubt out of you.

“You know I hate when you cry, babygirl,” he says, kneeling on the bed and sitting in the middle. “Come here.”

You take his hands for support and he helps you sit up. He guides you closer and closer, and finally has you sit straddling his lap. He places your arms around his neck, then his hands wander, slowly caressing your arms, your shoulders, down your back and every inch of your sides and hips. He pets your thighs and brushes the back of his fingers against your stomach and across your breasts before he finally palms them and squeezes gently.

“You’re so beautiful to me. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” he says softly. “I’ve never once looked at you and thought you were anything less than stunning. I’ve never thought you were any of the negative things you’ve thought about yourself.”

“Really?” you ask breathily, trying to focus on three things at once-- stopping yourself from crying again, hesitating to put your full weight on his lap, and the way his touching your body and now your chest is making you as flustered as the first time you had sex with him when every touch he gifted you felt feather-light and exciting.

“Really,” he insists, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck where he already left love bites. His hands move again, reaching down to your hips and your thighs once again. “I’ll sit here and tell you over and over and over again until you believe me.” One hand stills on your hip but the other caresses closer to your inner thigh. “I’ll tell you a million times how attractive you are and how addicted I am to your body.” You involuntarily jump, just slightly, when his gentle fingers brush against your cunt. “And if it doesn’t make you feel any better, I’ll tell you a million more.”

“I’d like that,” you say softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He lifts his head again and meets your eyes.

“Look at me,” he whispers as his fingers spread your lips and slip against your skin thanks to the wetness he’s already caused.

“My sweet girl.” He traces your labia lazily for a few seconds, staring deep into your eyes. You squirm in his lap and your hips involuntarily buck down against his hand when his finger swipes across your clit.

“My pretty girl,” he says, circling your clit slowly. “Don’t you agree? You’re my pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you sigh out.

His hand stops.

“Say it.”

“I’m your pretty girl.”

His fingers start moving again, a little faster than before.

“Good girl. My beautiful girl.”

You moan and roll your head back, but Chris immediately stops his hand.

“Baby,” he warns. “Eyes on me.”

Oh.

You tilt your head back up slowly and make eye contact again, no doubt with lust-clouded eyes. Chris’s eyes are dark but shiny and playful as always, and he looks at you in a way that makes your head spin. His gaze is a mix of stern command and lovelorn fawning.

“Repeat what I said,” he says after a moment of silence, flicking a finger across your clit, making you hiss and suck in a breath.

“I-I,” you stutter, unable to remember what he even said ten seconds ago. “I'm sorry, I don't remember.”

“You don't remember? My fingers make you lose your head that much? I haven't even let you ride them yet.”

You whine and roll your hips as if you were riding them already.

“I want to,” you whine, but he tsks.

“You're so beautiful, babygirl. I want to make you feel good because you're the most beautiful when you're cumming because of me, but I need you to love yourself again before the end of this. My beautiful girl.”

He slides his middle finger into you, lazily curling the end of it so you can feel him press against your walls. Your instinct tells you to close your eyes or look away, but you know by now that if you take your eyes off him he'll stop.

“Your beautiful girl,” you force out, trying to keep your breathing steady despite the way your heart pounds in your chest. There's something so overwhelming about this intimacy-- not just the sex, not his finger inside you, but the combination of his eyes locked on yours while doing it and making you say his possessive affirmations…

“It's too much,” you whine. “I’m overwhelmed,” you mumble, looking away from him and putting on your best pout so maybe he won’t punish you too harshly.

His finger slides out of you and he tilts his head to try to look at you.

“Too much? You don’t know what too much is. I haven’t given you enough yet.” He puts two of his wet fingers against your clit and starts frantically rubbing, letting your sensitive bud bounce between the cleft of his two slippery fingers. You immediately jump and whine, squirming and moaning, hips rolling and twitching.

“Ahhhh, mmm, Chris, ahhh!”

His fingers stop abruptly.

“Who?”

“Daddyyyy.”

“Look at me while I make you cum,” he demands, moving his two fingers in their frantic rhythm again. Your head doesn’t move, so he grabs you by the throat, squeezing at the outer edges just slightly. You gasp and grab his wrist with both hands, finally looking at him again.

You can’t make out any words, only gradually louder whines and pathetic moans as he works you closer and closer to your climax. No one has ever been able to make you cum so quickly from their fingers alone, but Chris has always had a special way of winding you up so tightly that you feel like you’ll burst before he even gets his hands on you.

Now he’s got you on the brink, one hand on your throat while the other works your clit. He lavishes you with his words.

“Yeah, that’s my good girl. I love your body. I know every inch of this beautiful, big body. Wouldn’t change it for the world, you know that? Wouldn’t change a thing about your body, Princess. I love you.”

“I love you,” you gasp out. The way you’re sitting on his lap won’t let you close your legs, but your thighs tremble and try to work shut anyway. The cocky smile on Chris’s mouth while he waits for you to reach your climax is too good. He knows you too well. He knows.

“I love youuu,” he says again, sickeningly sweet, right as it finally hits you. You throw your head back as much as you’re able with his hand holding your throat in place. You grind down on his hand, groaning and moaning, incoherently trying to call out his name in a desperate attempt to connect to him further.

“My sexy girl,” he chuckles. “God, I love the way you look when you cum.” He releases your neck and tilts your head forward to press your lips against his. While he kisses you, his fingers gradually stop and finally still, then his damp hand rests against your waist.

He kisses you languidly, swallowing the rest of your whimpers as the overwhelming warmth and pleasure works its way through your system and you slowly calm down.

Finally when you’ve been quiet for a few moments, he pulls away.

“I should have done that in front of a mirror--” he says in a low voice. “--or recorded it. You need to see how pretty you are when you cum.”

“Maybe next time…?”

“That’s a wonderful idea, babygirl. Next time. But for now…” He reaches down and pulls on your calf, making you swing your leg to the side and then wrap it around him. He guides you to do the same on the other side until you’re no longer sitting on your knees straddling his lap. Instead you’re sitting in his lap properly with your legs locked behind him.

“Now I need to fuck that pretty pussy, and we’re gonna do it together, yeah?” Chris takes your hand and wraps it around his cock, guiding you to start stroking him. “You’re gonna-- ahh-- You’re gonna ride me and I’m gonna fuck you, and you have to keep looking at me, got it?”

You nod quickly but don’t verbally respond. You really wanna look down at his cock, especially as he helps you tilt it toward your cunt while pulling you forward until you’re close enough to feel the tip hitting heavily against your clit.

But you can’t look away from his soft eyes.

His persona is slipping. The bite has been falling out of his voice. The intimacy of having you in his lap, reacting so strongly to every little touch he gives you, has filled him with love more than pride; confidence in your relationship, more than smugness for his ego.

And you can see it all betrayed in his eyes.

“Closer,” he mumbles, wrapping one arm tightly around your waist. He holds you impossibly close to his body, your stomach squishing against his toned abs and your soft breasts flattening against his chest. The soft love-struck look in his eyes never falters, not even as you shift to the side a little so you can still help guide his dick into you despite your stomach being in the way.

He moans happily when you finally start sinking down on him, and you moan right back, whining needily as he fills you.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, briefly tilting your head down as if you’re gonna lay it on his shoulder, but you remember his one rule and sit back up.

“This pussy always takes me so well,” Chris sighs happily. “I love this fucking body. I love it,” he groans, bucking up into you while his second arm joins his first locked around your waist.

“I love you,” you gasp, grinding down against him.

“I love you. I need you to love yourself like I love you.”

“I’ll try,” you stutter, nodding. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

You move your hips together continuously, Chris bucking upward and you grinding down. You have more freedom of movement being on top, so you take it upon yourself to circle or slide your hips back and forth depending on what feels best.

Chris’s hands grip your squishy hips and love handles tightly when you move in a way that feels really good for him, and when you get him really worked up he can’t help but to reel you in by a gentle hand on the back of your head. He moans into your mouth and kisses you with more tongue than lip, trying to lick every moan and whine out of our mouth before it can fall.

Your moans grow more frantic once one of his hands reaches down to rub his thumb against your clit lazily while you continue to fuck each other. Chris swallows all your sounds down, refusing to let you break the kiss to warn him that you’re so so so close.

He can tell, though. Of course he can. He knows your body and its reactions better than you know it yourself.

He keeps working you from both angles-- his hips bucking up and his thumb brushing your already-oversensitive clit, until you break.

Your body shakes, starting in your legs and working all the way up as a delicious orgasm rolls through your entire body. You chant his name against his mouth, and he smirks and almost chuckles at first, until the fluttering of your walls as you keep riding through your orgasm sends him hurtling past the point of no return as well.

He cums hot, silky shots into your pussy with no concern for the consequences.

“Oh, fuck,” he barks when the sudden orgasm takes him, having turned his head away from you just quick enough to not shout in your face.

“Daddy,” you sigh blissfully, running your hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Chris. That was… That was so much.”

He chuckles softly and pecks small kisses across your cheek and jaw.

“I’m at a loss for words as well,” he says quietly. Both of you are still now, no more bucking hips and rolling waves. You’re left with only the heaving of your chests as your breathing steadies in tandem.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“I don’t expect this to have made everything better,” he admits, once again meeting your eye. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and traces his finger down the edge of your face. “Sometimes I’m just so baffled that you can’t see how beautiful you are. To me you’re like a goddess-- literally, like those Greek statues. I’m so in love with you and how you look. I wanted you to feel that.”

“I did. I really did, I promise.”

“Good. Though I’m not opposed to showing you again if you need me to,” he says cheekily, and you giggle, shaking your head.

“I’ll keep your offer in mind for the future, but I understand you perfectly tonight.”

#bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan skz smut #skz x reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #bang chan drabble #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fluff

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eoieopda · 4 months ago

Note

FINE I'M HERE TO REQUEST PART 3!!! In which Chan better really GET that promotion!!!!!!! Contract signed, payroll amended!!!!!

You can make it angsty if you like, AS LONG AS you promise there will be a happy ending (in this part or........ Another 👀)

the one with chan and the promotion (iii)

you needed a ride home after getting your wisdom teeth removed. chan just so happened to be free. now, being free is the last thing he wants.

part i. part ii.

pairing: bang chan x reader au: fuck buddies to lovers, hurt/comfort type: drabble (angst, fluff) rating: 18+ | minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my content. wc: 3.1k cw: mad!chan makes a brief appearance but otherwise remains the best boy; gn!reader (no gendered language used); reader may or may not show some degree of emotional availability (gasp!); due to the nature of their relationship, sex is referenced but not actually depicted; very briefly/incompletely edited, oops. a/n: i love you completely and am so fucking sorry it took four (4) months for me to finish this 😵‍💫 i have an epilogue i can offer in penance, if you want it! everyone else, please read the first two parts before reading this!

Chan may be an idiot, but at least he’s self-aware.

He knew it was a bad idea to get his hopes up; to expect that things would change quickly between you, if at all. Even though he saw the letdown coming from a kilometer away, he didn’t do a thing to brace himself for it. It’s his fault, he knows, for exaggerating his place in your life — but that doesn’t make the disappointment bruise any less when the week after your wisdom teeth removal flies by in radio silence.

The lack of conversation isn’t for lack of trying. As he scrolls through your half-vacant text thread now, Chan feels all his efforts staring back at him. All those attempted check-ins marked delivered but not well-received. Swings and misses.

Prior to sending each one of them, he spent minutes upon minutes agonizing over the tone — and the use of emojis — and the possible implications of the proposed emojis — and the fear that he’d just come off clingy, not invested. Reading the finished versions back now, he can recall with perfect accuracy the drafts he typed out and immediately, feverishly deleted. Considering the way they litter his brain, there may as well be a trail of crumpled-up notes in all that metadata.

Does it make Chan cringe to look back and watch himself flatline? Absolutely.

Does that stop him from salting his own wounds? Nope. It never has and likely never will.

Maybe, he figures, he’ll spot where he went wrong and find a way to un-dig this ditch he’s seemingly made.

[Sent 2024/7/23, 15:22] Just got home. Have you fallen back asleep already? Lol

Naver says your swelling might be kind of bad tomorrow. Do you need ice packs? I have the gel kind that you can mold. Might be more comfortable than a bag of ice cubes 🤔 Lmk!

[Sent 2024/7/25, 08:03] Hi, Hamtori 🐹 How are your cheeks?

I made too much gamjaguk again. I can drop some off if

[Sent 2024/7/26, 17:49] Graduate to solid foods yet?

I hope the antibiotics aren’t making your stomach upset

DON’T LAUGH but I made you a super chill Spotify playlist with healing vibes to

Idk if you remember, but I promised to take you out for pork belly next week. If you’re up for it, are you free on

I miss y

[Sent 2024/7/29, 00:16] Hey

Or maybe, he thinks, he’ll just beat his head against his bedroom wall instead; and eventually, he’ll forget what it felt like to be yours for the day, rather than a night.

Four more days pass without a word from you. Under normal circumstances, one of you would’ve invited the other over at least twice in the eleven days since your dental appointment. No matter how infrequently the two of you chatted outside of your recurrent trysts, neither one of you has ever gone this long without summoning the other.

Something is wrong.

At this point, Chan sees two explanations for the way you’ve fallen completely off the grid: you’ve either succumbed to some tragic, post-op. complication and died, or he’s irreparably fucked something up with you without knowing how or when he misstepped. Neither one of those is an outcome he’s willing to accept.

The voice in his head nags him so forcefully and consistently that his body eventually gives in. Undeterred by his better judgment, Chan lets it guide him up, out, and onward until he winds up on the sidewalk outside his building.

On the walk to your apartment, he mulls over the foreseeable consequences of the actions he’s already set in motion. It’s certifiably insane to pop in you like this, and once again, he only sees two options: you’ll slam the door in his face, or he’ll confirm once and for all that you’ve left this mortal coil. Bad on all counts, really, but anything is better than nothing.

His timing, as it turns out, couldn’t be better. Right as he lands at the front door, when he needs to think of a way to get in without buzzing you, a neighbor he’s seen once or twice before opens it to leave. Politely, they hold it open for him, likely mistaking him for someone with any right to be there — someone whose proximity to you actually makes sense. Chan thanks them with a nod of his head and a sheepish smile before slipping through the opening.

As the elevator ascends, his fingers move of their own accord, anxiously tapping out a rhythm on the stainless steel wall he leans against. Every worst-case scenario flashes through his mind. There’s a flash of something else there, too, though. Something even more nerve-wracking than all his catastrophizing; something that makes his stomach flip.

Hope.

“Oi, none of that,” he mutters to himself.

It doesn’t work. When Chan approaches the doors in the second before they open, he makes eye contact with his reflection and sees that easy, ill-advised smile creeping up on him.

As he exits that giant metal box, he shakes his head with an anxious laugh. If he’s this embarrassed by himself when he’s alone, the chances of him living through the way you’re about to look at him are…

Well…

Abysmal.

But that doesn’t stop him from powering his way down the hall towards your door. Coincidentally, neither does the fact that he doesn’t have a plan for what he’ll do when he reaches it.

Figuring knocking is as good a start as any, that’s precisely what Chan does, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to appear more nonchalant.

Then, he waits.

And then, he waits some more.

After thirty seconds pass without a response, Chan knocks again, carefully balancing the weight of his fist against it so the sound of it isn’t too assertive — or too eager — or too desperate — or —

“Left about an hour ago,” a voice says from a few meters away.

Chan turns towards the sound. Several units down, an old woman’s head pokes out of an open doorway. He can’t tell if she’s intentionally frowning at him or if it’s the weight of her jowls pulling the corners of her mouth down. Either way, it feels bad.

Running an anxious hand over the back of his increasingly warm neck, he coughs, “Oh?”

The ajumma clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “You young people never put those cell phones down and yet you still wind up like this.” She works herself up further; her nostrils flare as she rambles, “In my day, it was rude to show up unannounced. We called ahead, and when we called ahead, people were there to answer the door.”

Chan isn’t above arguing with some personified wrinkle, but he likes to think you would be. Even though you’re not here to witness it, it feels important to be the person you might like him to be.

So, he bites his tongue.

He nods yet again with a polite smile.

He turns on his heels.

And when he shuffles back towards the elevator, there’s a hell of a lot less of a spring in his step.

Two days go by after Chan’s little fieldtrip. Just like the previous several, they slip away quietly. This time, however, he doesn’t check-in — doesn’t type out his thoughts just to immediately erase them; doesn’t stare at his phone and wait to prove it to himself that it won’t chime.

Lesson learned, really.

It was a bad idea to bet the house on maybes. He knew it on the front end and still chose optimism; now, it serves him right. Played stupid games and won stupid prizes, as you like to say. If only he could stop thinking about what you like to say and instead focus on the fact that you haven’t said anything at all.

Chan grits his teeth and tries hard to focus on the game lighting up his monitor. Whatever Yongbok talked him into playing doesn’t make him feel any better about fumbling you — in fact, it’s proving to be yet another thing he’s terrible at — but it’s sufficiently distracting to have his friends swearing each other up and down in their Discord voice channel.

Actually, he stands corrected. This is also terrible, albeit a different flavor of garbage than his hopeless mooning over you.

Maybe radio silence is better.

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, his phone buzzes against the surface of his desk — three long taps bookended by three short ones.

Before Chan reaches for it, he lets the poetry of it all sink in. SOS, his phone declares whenever you text him. Originally, although he’ll never fucking tell you so, he chose that text tone because hearing from you salvaged his day, every time. Now, it reminds him that he’s in over his head with no life preserver in sight.

Not bad, he thinks. He should write that bit down in the notebook of lyrics he ruminates over but never puts to music, let alone shares.

The lack of action on his part prompts his phone to vibrate again for emphasis.

SOS!

Beaming white light bores into his retinas when he finally opens his inbox, and Chan refuses to think about the million times you’ve told him to switch to dark mode or the infinitely-brighter shit he’s been roasting under since he started this game several hours back. All he thinks about instead is the first grey text in an ocean of blue:

[2024/8/04, 23:37] you up?

You tilt your head to the side, smiling coyly when you crack open the door and find Chan standing on your doorstep with his hood up and hands in his pockets. Outside the windows behind you, the downpour he just trudged through continues to dampen his mood.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you lilt, like nothing has changed at all.

That’s the problem, isn’t it?

Chan lifts his chin slightly as some half-assed nod to let you know that his ears work, if nothing else. Either missing his stony expression or ignoring it, you simply open the door wider, beckoning him to follow you with a gentle wave of your free hand.

He wants so badly to smile back at you as easily as you smile at him — really, he does, but fuck, he can’t make his face do anything but harden.

Once he toes off his shoes, he expects you to lead him straight to your room — or your couch — or any of the other various surfaces the pair of you have misappropriated along the way. You don’t, though. With your lips pensively pursed, you shuffle a bit closer; and as soon as you can reach him properly, you raise both of your hands. One flattens against his now rain-soaked sweatshirt; the other goes for his zipper, tugging gently until there’s nothing left to hold him together.

Carefully, Chan eyes you; watches while you slip the fabric off his shoulders, as if it isn’t twice as heavy as it was when he put it on. Like it’s easy, you turn away, open the nearby closet, and toss that wet mess into the top-half of your standing washer-dryer.

“I think…” Your tiny, upward curve returns while your sentence peters out. Softly, you reach up and brush a damp curl off his forehead. “An umbrella would be a worthwhile investment.”

He should join in on the bit. He should banter right back. He should smile, too — for fuck’s sake — because you’re finally right here. You’re talking to him within touching distance, radiating warmth he wants to live in, and he should touch you the way you want to be touched — the way you summoned him here to touch you.

He should do a lot of things, none of which include snapping at you, and yet —

“Why the hell am I here?”

It catches you both off-guard. You, because Chan has never once spoken to you any other way but kindly. Him, because you don’t actually look all that surprised by the sentiment, even if the presentation isn’t what you expected.

Somehow, that’s the thing that stings the most; not the way your face falls at his gruffness but the inkling you must have had before you asked him over that things between you aren’t sitting right at all.

Chan doesn’t get a response, so he asks another way: “Did you notice all of those unanswered texts when you sent yours, or did you ignore them all over again?”

It dawns on you — and him too, if he’s being honest — that you’ve still got your hands resting delicately on his chest. You reel your arms back in and cross them, not defiantly but diminutively. You shrink right in front of him; and regret hits him like a fist to the side of his skull.

“I didn’t know what to do with them.” Your head lowers while you do your best to look anywhere else.

That’s —

“Bullshit. I’m sorry, but it’s really not hard to keep up a conversation, especially when someone is just asking how you’re feeling.” Instantly he feels terrible for snapping. Softening his tone slightly, he sighs, “I know you know how.”

You look up at him without tilting your head much at all. Peering over that brick wall of yours, he figures. “That’s the thing, though. I don’t know.”

The face he pulls must convey what he’s thinking: Are you fucking kidding me? But you’re quick to prevent him from jumping to any further-out conclusions, amending, “I don’t know how I feel.”

Chan opens his mouth to respond, then thinks better of it. It’s rare for you to open up to the extent you might be about to; and it’s a miracle that you might be willing to now, given the fact that he’s come at you blindly at 160 kilometers per hour.

“I don’t like needing people.”

Your attention is drawn to your fidgeting fingers and the drawstring of the sweatpants they occupy themselves with. The overwhelming urge he feels to grab them, to hold them still, goes ignored and makes his own hands tense. He focuses hard on your face instead; the crease between your eyebrows while you plot out your next steps.

“I didn’t want to need you, but then I did need you — and you just… you came, no questions asked.” You laugh, either despite your visible discomfort or because of it. “Held my hand and all that, didn’t just drop me on the curb and say, hit me up when you’re down again.”

Chan feels as if he’s been punched, although it’s not offense he takes from your statement. Judging by that flicker of hurt in your eyes, the expectation you had wasn’t for him, personally. It was history.

You shift where you stand from one foot to another, like that weight on your shoulders is changing. He doesn’t know if it’s getting heavier or lighter until you finally lift your chin to look at him squarely.

“It scared the shit out of me, honestly — how easy you are to need — so, I did what I always do: I bailed.” Sighing, you finally seem to register how much anxiety you’re holding in your hands. You drop it, then drop them to your sides. “But I think I’ve figured it out.”

You smile slightly, and suddenly, he feels lighter. “I’ve been conflating them, but they’re completely different things, aren’t they?”

Chan arches an eyebrow. Truly, he’s at a loss. He can’t predict which direction you’re about to turn in. Seeming to sense this, you answer his unasked question, “Wanting to need you and wanting you.”

While this makes his brain pause, his body moves. Cautiously, he steps forward and watches you counter him until your back is flush against the wall behind you.

“Can I have a definition, then, please?” He pleads, voice low, while his hands gently claim your hips. “Because I thought it was want behind the booty call that brought me here, and I don’t want to find myself on a completely different page again.”

You link your arms around his neck and eye him carefully. “It was,” you acknowledge with a small nod. “Different kind, though — a shallow one.”

Chan finds his mouth curving up at the corner, all on its own. His gaze drops from yours to your lips, then back again. It’d be so easy to kiss you now, but he can’t unless he gets some sort of confirmation. “We’re in the deep end now, then?”

“Moving that way, at least. I spook easily, though…” You’d probably love nothing more than to look away when you admit that bit out loud, but to your credit, you don’t. Instead, you run your fingernails softly through the hair at his nape. “I’m not entitled to any more of your patience, but would you be willing to take it one day at a time?”

Chan wishes that he’d at least pretended to consider this. He doubts you’ve ever had a vision of him as someone nonchalant — in fact, he’s the poster boy for chalance in whichever reality that word exists — but it would’ve been infinitely cooler of him not to respond immediately and wholeheartedly with a rushed sigh, “Fuckin’ right, I am,” before leaning in to kiss you absolutely stupid.

Whatever gratification he can’t find by licking into the mouth you open eagerly for him, he finds in the way you keen when he presses his body more fully against yours. The payoff is even better when he stops short, divorcing your respective lips entirely.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he announces, breathless. His grin widens; meanwhile, your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. “No! Not, like, never — I don’t have that kind of resolve — but not tonight.”

The sudden switch makes you dizzy. Thankfully, it makes you laugh, too.

“Don’t tell me you just want to enjoy my company,” you warn. You attempt to say it earnestly, but a smile cracks you wide open. “I’m still too prone to bolt when I hear cute shit like that.”

Chan shakes his head. “No, I’m telling you to plant yourself on that couch —” He pulls his right hand off your left hip and gestures blindly over his shoulder. “I’m also telling you that I am getting takeout.”

You narrow your eyes in feigned suspicion. “I wonder what you could possibly be ordering.”

“Belated pork belly is better than no pork belly.” He narrows his eyes to mirror hours, then kisses you quickly, murmuring, “One for the road,” against your lips.

Then, he dashes off towards your front door. As he goes, he just barely catches you nagging him through your laughter:

“If you’re not going to wait for your sweatshirt, can you at least take an umbrella?”

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

skz taglist. multi taglist. navigation.

due to tumblr being ass with tags lately, i’m going to be tagging people in the comments for the time being!

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thenewblackcanvas · 11 months ago

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Big dick! chan, insecure about his size

“It’s a lot right? I-It seems like a lot” he says when your shocked expression stops your movements.

He tries to pull his boxers back up but you tightly grab his wrist with one hand and his dick with the other.

“This is mine now” you state, very matter a fact. Possessive! (Little bit of body worship)Partner

#bang chan drabble #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #stray kids smut

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astralis-ortus · 6 months ago

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a little sweet fix

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— sometimes what you thought was right might not be the best way.

w.count → 0.9k genre → comfort warning → mild cussing, mention of a family member getting into an accident (not described, non fatal), chan referred to as chris, reader referred to as baby and babe a.n → based on this request! i've never really written something in this nature, but it was a good challenge! tysm for requesting♡ ⋆ see masterlist

the air in the apartment was oddly tense when chris finally got home. he knew for a fact that you’re back from work—the pair of shoes you wore earlier this morning has returned amongst your and chris’ shared shoe cabinet, and you just texted him around 20 minutes ago, asking him what you should get for dinner, before chris’ usual drive back from work.

“baby?” chris cautiously called out, footsteps treading down to your shared bedroom, and only then did he finally heard the familiar soft rustling of your slippers—along with a muffled conversation and your soft sniffles.

“gosh—are you sure you’re fine?”

your concerned voice turned clear as chris gently pushed the wooden slab ajar, revealing your anxiously pacing figure with a phone next to your ear. the questions reflected in his eyes soon turned to worry when he noticed the remnants of tears down your pale cheeks—but he kept quiet when you mouthed a quiet ‘hi’, followed by the shapes he recognizes as the name to your younger sibling while you pointed at the phone.

“my god—you still have the audacity to joke after getting mom and dad to hide this from me?” you groaned in annoyance, hand flying up to soothe the mild throb on your temple. “ugh, you’re unbelievable. fine. rest up, okay? i love you.”

you peered up as soon as the call disconnected and found your boyfriend smiling tenderly at you, arms apart as they quietly invited you into his embrace. no questions, no prying out answers, nothing—he just stood there, patiently waiting for you to come to him.

and so, you did.

his scent instantly fills you as you melt into his embrace, arms tightly wrapped around his midriff while he envelopes you in his warmth. you didn’t even know when, but tears started to begin its second race down your face, sniffles dampened by the broad of chris’ chest. you cried, and chris just stayed there, hand gently patting your back while he buries his nose between the waves of your hair.

“i feel like a terrible older sibling,” you finally croaked after what felt like a long while, sniffling away the rest of your tears while you rest against the echo of chris’ heartbeat. “how could i not notice they’ve been distancing from me? and only to find out it was because they got hospitalized after a bike crash? god—i feel awful. how come i didn’t notice anything?”

“you’re not a terrible sibling, baby,” chris hummed, lips pressed against your forehead gently, “they just didn’t want you to worry. they know you would drop everything and do anything in your power to fly home right there and then, and i assume they didn’t want that. it’s neither your faults,” he muttered, hands now cupping your cheeks while he erases any trace of tears left on your skin.

“but still…” your lips pursed in protest, glossy eyes peering up at chris, “it’s a big deal, and i feel like crap for not being able to be there for my family. i could—i could’ve been there, you know? they’re my family. i should’ve been there.”

“i understand, baby,” chris softly exhaled as he pulled you into another hug, “but based on what i heard earlier, i can only assume they would feel guilty for making you come home. it’s only natural for you to want to be there and take care of them—i understand that, but don’t you think by not making them worry over you disregarding work just to fly home is also another form of help?”

you wanted to disagree—how could being unaware and staying thousands of miles away be of help for your family? you eyebrows furrowed, about to protest when chris continued, “think about it, babe. if it was you, wouldn’t you feel bad and worry about them instead your own recovery if your family flew all the way here? wouldn’t you tell them that calls and facetimes are enough because you have me to take care of you?”

you so wanted to disagree—but deep down, you do understand what chris meant.

“also,” pressing a light peck on the top of your head, chris then continued, “i think the only reason your parents agreed to keep you in the dark for a while is because they knew there’s nothing major you should be worried about. i’m sure they wouldn’t agree otherwise, yeah?”

and again, chris is right. you know your parents—they would never do that to you.

“you’re right,” you finally exhaled, pursing your lips as you snuggled closer in his warm embrace, “maybe i wasn’t thinking far enough.”

“it’s understandable, baby,” chris smiled when he felt the tension on your back slowly loosening up under his arms, “they’re your family after all. you wouldn’t want to see them got hurt.”

“besides,” the switch of tone in chris’ eye lures your eyes to look at him, and you’re greeted by your boyfriend’s sweet dimpled smile, “i know a way you could kinda be there for them. you know the hospital room number, right?” he grinned, immediately fishing out his own phone when you nodded an answer.

“what about we send them some food and hop on facetime?” chris proposed—and when he saw the glint in your eyes returning, he knew he made the right suggestion.

“bet they could use some sweets to cheer up from all those hospital foods,” he grinned. you could only imagine how your picky eater of a sibling would've groaned at the food choices they've had to deal with during their stay so far, and it made you giggle.

“oh, they sure do.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

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SQUIRTRACHA!! aka chan minho hyunjin and jeongin who would prob be the most determined to make you squirt. andjskjdkssjksk the brainrot is real. and theyd pull out ALL the tricks. flicking and sucking your nipples, rubbing your clit, EDGING 😖 and probably just lots and lots of orgasm denial. all in an attempt to get you to squirt for them <3

I SO AGREE.

UNDER THE CUT BC THIS GOT SO LONG!!!

i think with chan it would be such a deep, carnal desire for him… i can just imagine him discovering it one day when he’s watching porn and he’s like “oh…?” when the female star’s orgasm gushes from her. from then on, he’s just thinking about how badly he wants to make someone do that… i can imagine the first time he gets you in bed it’s going through his brain, it’s ALL he can think about. immediately crooks his fingers up to your g spot in an attempt to get you to squirt.. you’re whining, telling him “it’s too much, channie, too much- i think i’m gonna pee, i’m-?”. chan’s shaking his head, soft curls bouncing in his face, “no baby, ‘s not pee. c’mon, let go for me.” ughhh and imagine the overstimulation when you do… poor baby just wants to make you soak him over and over.. he’s latching onto your nipples, thrusting his fingers back in straight away. i need him so bad

i think with minho it would be the complete opposite. he’d be edging you for what felt like forever. he’d have you perched in front of a mirror, legs splayed over his as he worked his fingers into you over and over. every single time you thought he may give it to you, let you have this orgasm - he pulled away, smacking your clit teasingly with a smirk. except, this time, he’s a bit too late - your orgasm floods from you, soaking the mirror as your eyebrows furrow together and jaw drops in a silent scream. you’re babbling “oh-! sorry, sorry, min! made a mess, oh-“ minho wouldn’t even show his surprise tbh, though he’s internally dying… he’d just smirk, saying “so fucking dirty, creaming for me everywhere like that, huh? can’t even be mad you came.” he’d definitely bend you over quickly and shove his thick cock in you until you’re doing it again. yum

hyunjin would have such a kink for just watching you cum. just seeing your eyes roll back with pleasure, clit throbbing and toes curling as you let go all for him, just for him. when he expressed his desire to make you squirt, you honestly weren’t surprised at all. you were surprised when he tried it later that same day - pulling out a nice, curved g spot vibrator to fuck you with. hyunjin would work you up so good, telling you “you’re so, so fucking beautiful”, and making you whine out. he’d suck hickeys into your neck, kissing down your body, laving over your tits until he was sure you were nice and wet for him… i think while minho, jeongin and chan would be the types to fuck you without abandon to get you to squirt, hyunjin would enjoy playing with your body like it’s a beautiful instrument. “there you go, feelin’ good?” he’d say as he pushed the soft silicone inside of you, and you’d nod, whimpering when the attachment brushes against your clit. he wouldn’t even fuck you quickly, just brushing his fingers over your nipples while he pumps it steadily in and out of you… before you know it, you’re cumming, not even able to warn him - juices gushing out of you and all over the vibrator and hyunjin’s hand. you’d be whining, “oh, hyunjin, ‘m- cumming, cum, shit, ‘s wet-“ and shiiit the smile he’d do… he’d be so fucking happy LOL he wouldnt even need to fuck you, he’d be satisfied at your own powerful orgasm.

ok jeongin…. i honestly think that when jeongin heard about squirting, he was astonished. he was like “PEOPLE CAN DO THAT????” and then he was like “nah. i don’t believe it.” just completely refusing it exists. until one day, you’re riding him and his cockhead is hitting your cervix just right. jeongin felt like he was going to die whenever he was inside you anyway, but today just felt different. you were warmer, wetter, tighter - even fucking louder as you writhed and bounced on him. “yeah, ah, ah, innie, so deep-“ you’d be whining, fingers digging into his stomach. just from your facial expression, lost in pleasure, jeongin would feel himself getting close - but you had to cum first. “you gonna cum? please, please,” he’d beg, leaning up to rub tight, precise circles on your clit. all of a sudden, the tightness of your hole is pushing jeongin’s dick out, and a gush of clear fluids is covering him. you’re in shock, eyes widening and moans tumbling out of your mouth - only worsened by jeongin cumming on his own stomach as you cover him. so yeah, he likes it. he still can’t believe it’s real tho tbh, even as he tries (and succeeds) to get you to do it over and over again.

i also think jisung would have an INTENSE squirt kink and idk if thats me projecting but he’s filthy SO IF U WANT ME TO ELABORATE LMK…

#juno’s asks ♡#sweet baby anon #yang jeongin smut #yang jeongin drabble #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin drabble #bang chan drabble #bang chan smut #lee know smut #lee know drabble

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chanshoesunite · 1 year ago

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Simon says

„Let‘s play Simon says“, Chan suggests to YN.

„Just the two of us?“, YN cocks an eyebrow, demonstratively looking around.

“Yeah, there are no rules against that, are there?”

“I guess not, but I am quite curious where this is going.”

“Whatever do you mean?”, Chan pulls an innocent face, “So, I start: Simon says, stand up. Twirl. Bounce. Shake what your momma gave ya.” – YN has to laugh at the last one.

“Simon says turn around.”

YN does so, turning her head coquettishly. Chan gets up, standing close behind her. They look into each other’s eyes, their gazes heated.

“Simon says don’t move if you enjoy this”, Chan whispers and his hands begin to roam YN’s body, starting at her soft breasts, traveling along her ribcage, to her hips and bum. She leans back and grinds into him. They both let out quiet moans.

“My turn”, YN says. “Simon says take your trousers off and sit down.”

Chan complies quickly, his thick cock straining against his boxers. YN straddles him, stroking down his arms: “Simon says kiss me.”

Chan does so with enthusiasm, opening his mouth readily to let her in. While they make out, YN keeps moving her hips for more friction. Their lips separate when she says breathlessly: “Take your – Simon says take your cock out.”

She lifts herself up, so Chan can obey her. Once his cock is free, she moves her underwear to one side and works herself down his length.

“Simon says enjoy the ride.”

#author tortoise #a little birthday drabble for hare #bang chan imagine #bang chan x yn #bang chan drabble #bang chan smut #bang chan smutty scenario #bang chan x reader #skz smut #bang chan smutty imagine #bang chan smutty fanfic #bang chan fanfic

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pettypuppy-jonghyun · 2 years ago

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[2:37pm]

"Foods here!" Your voice rang out as you stepped through the practice room door. Behind you followed Chan with bottles of soda and a few bags full of food himself.

The other members all cheered excitedly at the thought of eating after a long day. They waited until you started to separate the foods and drinks before they all filed over to you and your boyfriend. They got into a disoriented bundle surrounding you.

"We have fried chicken or we have burgers," you inform them, gesturing to the containers before you. "Jeongin, honey, what would you like?"

The youngest steps forward after you called his name. "Chicken, please." He accepted a box full of fried chicken with both hands. "Can I have some coke?" He questions Chan, who already started to poor the drink into a small cup.

Chan smiles brightly at the boys all coming up to you for food. He felt a fondess in watching them politely interact with you, thankful for the food you brought. If he ever admitted it aloud, though, he would be teased for sounding like a father again.

"May I please have two burgers?" Felix shyly asks you, holding up two fingers.

"Of course." You smiled at him briefly before turning and grabbing two wrapped sandwiches from the brown paper bag. Felix had started to walk away from you when you stopped him. "Hey, please grab a cup too. You need something to drink while you eat. Coke, water, something."

Felix listens to your advice, shuffling over to his leader for a cup of water. He was the last to be fed other than you and Chan. After he sat down in the circle the boys had formed, you glanced at your boyfriend to see if he was going to eat. He notices your gaze, attempting to dismiss the concern in your eyes. However, the look in your expression made him reach for a piece of chicken anyway.

"She's going all mom again," Lino teases, pointing his wooden chopstick ends at you.

Your head whips around to glare daggers at him. "I hope you choke on that chicken, Lee Minho."

The sound of Bang Chan's choking from laughter made you turn back, reaching down to grab a cup of coke to hand to him. The other members were silently giggling to themselves after your remark as well. Lino stared you down for a moment, but when he realized your focus had left him, he went back to eating.

"I didn't mean you, babe," you laugh.

Chan rolls his eyes. "I didn't expect you to be so quick in telling him off."

#skz time stamp #bang chan time stamp #bang chan fluff #skz imagine #skz drabble #bang chan drabble #skz fluff #stray kids time stamp #bang chan #skz chan #chan fluff #chan being a dad #leader chan

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myseungsunglove · 1 year ago

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Broken Promises | Bc

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Warnings: fluff - despite the title, this is actually just a feel good little story.

Word Count: 1.8k

𖠫Summary: Sometimes you can make all the promises in the world to yourself, but life has other plans for you. Working closely with Bang Chan turns out to be a challenge in which you never really stood a chance.

✎a/n✎: this was just a random ass thought I started writing. No idea why. My brain is just finding every way possible to avoid writing part 4 of the master of flirting at this point. And Chan’s lips may have caught my eye and my mind may have wandered into writing this fic. Who knows, really. Edit: in re-reading this, this is one of the shitiest things I’ve ever written. 😭😭 I’m not even sure why I published this. 🤦🏼‍♀️🫣

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「© September 29, 2023 by mysweethannie」

You promise yourself when taking the job, you won’t fall victim to Chan’s charm like every other person on the planet seems to.

The minute Bang Chan’s laugh is directed at you, his eyes crinkling in laughter and turning into tiny crescent moon slits, you’re done for.

It is then you break your first promise, falling hard for Chan’s charming laugh and beautiful smile.

You promise yourself that you’ll never let tiny glances and brief touches affect you. It is your job to do his makeup, of course you’d be close in proximity, touching him more than pretty much anyone else.

It had been 2 months since you replaced Chan’s previous makeup artist. Every time you walk into a room, he notices.

“Y/n! My favorite artist,” he declares, striding up to you and spreading his legs so that he can be face to face with you for easier access.

“Mr Bang,” you tease.

It has become a running joke between the two of you at this point, you calling him Mr. Bang. You crowd into his space, brush in hand as you set to work. After applying the base makeup, the more intricate details require you to be even closer to him. You step in close, your chest bumping against his slightly and his hands reach out, landing on your hips to steady the two of you.

Your heart flutters in your chest and you curse yourself silently. When he doesn’t remove his hands the rest of the time you’re doing his makeup, you can’t help but be a little overjoyed.

It is then you break your second promise, wondering when the next time he is going to dare to touch you will be.

You promise yourself you won’t develop a school girl crush on Chan.

The day he brought you caffeine and breakfast after he knew you had a long night, you start noticing all the little things he does for you that the other boys don’t do for their make-up artists.

He texts to make sure you get home safely. He seeks you out in a crowded room during down time just to chat. Even if he doesn’t need a touch up. He calls you when he is in the studio because he just has to tell you about this idea that he has for a makeup look for the song he is writing. You never actually talk about the look, but he tells you all about the song and eventually the conversation moves away from writing and music to more personal topics. Before a performance, he works quietly in the same room that you are in whether you’re doing his makeup or not. He texts you almost every morning, even when you don’t have a schedule with him. Your fluttering heart realizes you’ve definitely fallen for Christopher Bang.

It is then that you break your third promise, the school girl crush taking hold of your not so schoolgirl heart.

You promise yourself that you will not get involved with an idol. Especially one Christopher Bang.

You’re walking home one day after a particularly long schedule with the boys. Your car had broken down a few days before and it was a nice enough day, so you set off for your apartment that wasn’t all that far from the venue you had just left. It was a lucky coincidence that today’s schedule was close to your home.

You don’t make it far when suddenly the once bright and sunny day clouds up overhead, and you can feel the atmosphere shift, a summer storm approaching quickly and seemingly out of nowhere. You should have known better than to be walking home in the middle of monsoon season. The pretty clear sky days typically give way to much gloomier and rainiers days with little to no warning. You had been sure you could make it home when you left the venue, but as the clouds opened up and rained down on you, literally, you realized just how wrong you were.

You are soaked to the bone in no time, nowhere close by to seek shelter. You are running down the sidewalk, your backpack lifted over your head as you stomp through the puddles of water that are already forming. Suddenly a car pulls up beside you, the door thrown open haphazardly.

“Y/N,” Chan yells from the back seat. “Get in!”

Your brain takes a second to process that Chan is offering you a ride, or that he is there at all on the side of the road on a now rainy evening.

You dash to the door and crawl in, immediately shivering from your wet clothes, tossing your bag on the floor of the car. Chan immediately pulls his hoodie over his head.

“Take this,” he says, handing it to you. He turns away from you and you’re confused at first. “Take off that soaked shirt and throw my hoodie on. It’ll be better for some of you to be dry at least,” he explains as if he can see you staring at his back, confused.

“Oh, yeah. Okay,” you agree and pull your wet shirt over your head and set it on the floor beside you. It’s then that you realize that Chan is the only one in the back of the vehicle which is unusual. “Where is everyone else?” you ask, slipping the hoodie over your head and wrapping your arms around yourself, rubbing your arms rapidly trying to warm yourself up.

Chan turns back around, figuring he has given you enough time and speaks.

“I saw you leave the venue on foot and I asked for my own car. Haven’t you learned yet that you don’t go for a walk in the middle of monsoon season?” He chuckles at you. “I was hoping we would catch up to you before the skies opened up,” he sighs apologetically. “C’mere, yeah?” He says, motioning for you to crawl into his warm embrace. You’re too cold from your wet pants and hair to really think twice about it.

His arms immediately engulf you, wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his warm and firm body. His arms rest on top of yours and rub gently, generating some heated friction to help ease your chills.

“God, I hope you don’t get sick,” he murmurs against your head as he leans back, keeping his arms around you, pulling you with him.

You settle against his chest and sigh. You inhale and immediately your senses are filled with his smell. It’s a comforting, woodsy smell you know you have smelt hundreds of times, but there is something distinctly different about it when you are wrapped in his arms. You practically burrow into him, your eyes fluttering shut. You feel Chan’s hold on you relax, and he sighs contentedly.

“Hey,” Chan says, shaking you gently. At some point you had fallen asleep on the short ride to your apartment. “We’re at your place.”

“Oh,” you startle awake, pulling away from his embrace and scrambling for the door. “Thanks for the ride Chan,” you stumble out, climbing out of the car a little embarrassed that you fell asleep in Chan’s arms.

As quickly as you are scrambling out of the car, Chan is hot on your trail, following you into your building.

“Y/n, wait!” He manages as you step into the elevator, eager to separate your racing heart from Bang Chan. You will not get involved. You promised yourself.

Just as the door goes to slide shut, his large hand stops the door and he steps in, the door quickly shutting behind him. You’re alone with him in the small space.

“I just…” he breathes, his hands coming to rest on your face. “Can I?” He starts to ask you a question, but his breath seems to be caught in his throat. He is staring into your eyes, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as his brown eyes flicker down to your lips. That seems to help him finish his sentence. “Kiss you?” He finishes.

Without your brain giving it permission, you nod your head in approval and Chan’s lips are on yours. Warm, plush, and inviting. He presses himself against you as his strong hands hold your head in place, his nose bumping against yours as your lips move in sync. The door dings and you both pull away, a little lost for words to see someone standing there waiting for the elevator.

Chan grabs your hand and pulls you off the elevator, mumbling a quick apology to the person waiting.

You can’t help but giggle as Chan wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into him.

“Which one is you?” He asks, looking down the hall.

“1003,” you say, willing your legs to move down the hall, your brain still not processing what is going on. You reach your door quickly stopping to wrestle your key out of your wet jean pocket.

“Can we talk?” Chan asks beside you as you open the door. “I’d uh,” he fumbles over his words as you push open the door. “I’d kind of like to take you on a date,” he says, his words tumbling out of his mouth almost faster than he can say them.

It’s your turn to grab his hand and pull him into your apartment, closing the door behind you.

“How about a dinner and a movie date right here,” you suggest, gesturing around your apartment. You aren’t sure what you’re doing, but you’re going for it, whatever it is.

He chuckles.

“Yeah, okay. I like that idea,” he agrees, kicking off his shoes. “Let me just let the guys know I’m gonna be out for a while,” he adds, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“I’m gonna go change. Make yourself comfortable,” you say, pointing to the couch as you turn to pad down the hall.

Chan’s hand reaches out for your wrist, barely catching it before you are too far away. He pulls you back into him, his lips finding yours once more and you melt into him and his comforting embrace.

It’s then you realize you’re going to break your last promise. You are absolutely getting involved with Christopher Bang.

Who knew that broken promises could feel this good?

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan fic #bang Chan x reader #bang Chan one shot #bang chan fanfiction #bang Chan Drabble

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facioleeknow · 1 year ago

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Midnight dip•Bang Chan

Tw: suggestive, nudity

The cold water lapped at her skin as she made her way into the small pool. Small chills traveled down her spine, light shivers shook her naked body while the water rose more and more until she was almost completely under.

The water stayed still behind her, the only ripples were caused by her own movements.

“You know, to take a midnight dip in the pool, you actually have to get in the pool.”

Silence followed her statement. She knew what he was thinking.

“Oh c’mon Christopher, if you don’t overwork yourself to death for one night nothing tragic is gonna happen,” she quipped with still her back to him.

“Alright, I’m coming,” he sighed, he wanted to sound annoyed but he was indeed thrilled. I mean who wouldn’t be thrilled at the idea of swimming with their hot girlfriend, naked?

She smirked as she heard the snap of the elastic of his underwear and then the water sloshing behind her.

Warm hands fell delicately on her shoulders and she spun around effortlessly.

Their hands started to slowly and languidly explore each other’s bodies.

A small sound of pleasure escaped Chan’s mouth.

“I missed this,” he said as he lowered her head to gently bite her neck, “ I missed you.”

She pushed him away slightly with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Well now that you got me, what are you going to do about it, handsome?”

She jokingly grabbed his ass and squeezed. Bang Chan picked her up and spun her around making the girl giggle. The laughs echoed around the garden but soon stopped and were replaced by a gasp as he started to grind onto her.

“You shouldn’t have asked that.”

#bang chan #stray kids #kpop #bang chan x reader #bang chan drabble #bang chan drabbles #bang chan scenario #bang chan scenarios #bang chan imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids reader insert #reader insert #bang chan smut

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minhosimthings · 1 year ago

Text

Fault

Prompt by @banghyunchanji : Imagine when Chan finds out that your manager is making you perform the day after you have a miscarriage.

Pairings - Idol!Husband!Chan × Soloist!Fem!Wife!reader

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, reader has a miscarriage, angst with a shit ton of comfort, mentions of food, chan has a nightmare

A/N: saw this one gif and I just had to write it! I don't like the way I wrote the ending much but I think this was my favorite descriptions to write. Thank you to @banghyunchanji for the prompt! I hope all of you like it.

"Channie-" you gasped for air. The lilac painted room, your favourite colour, seemed to be whirling around and you swore you could see the moon dancing up in the sky through the magnificent windows. Why was the moon shining tonight? Why were the city lights still turned on? Why were the buildings still stinking of coffee? Why wouldn't the world stop for you?

More under the cut

"Channie- I-Im-" Chan immediately pulled you into his chest, engulfing you in a warm comforting fire, as all the crystals you've held in your eyes started coming out. Chan felt the fabric of his shirt getting wetter and wetter, but he couldn't care less. His eyes were bloodshot, illuminating his dark circles, from all the days you got him back home at midnight from the studio.

"Shh princess. Shh, it's alright it's alright." Chan rubbed circles on your wrist, always a way of calming you down, "I'm here. I'm here." He tried to keep his voice from cracking.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Your voice tried to be stable, and your soul tried to stop itself from bleeding. Chan's heart broke into a more than a million pieces, probably enough to scatter the entire world. "Baby no~" he shushed you, his voice as warm as a freshly baked pecan pie, your favourite wasn't it? "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's. No shhh don't cry baby, you're still very weak." He held you tighter, as your tears dried up, "you'll only get weaker. Have some water, come on."

Chan got you up slowly, hands resting on your waist, trying not to float over to your stomach, where stitches lie, tightly packed, but still bleeding gold. He pressed a glass of water to your lips, gently lifting it, so that your throat could get a drop of hydration.

"thank you." You whispered, laying back down on the bed. Chan smiled gently at you, a weak attempt at calming you down. You could see the rotten pain in his smile, his dimple shining less than it usually did. "It's alright." He mumbled into your ear, as you wrapped your arms around him, as he spoke a lie which would perhaps become a disguised truth, "Everything's gonna be alright."

The next day

"Alright Mrs Bang," the doctor clapped her hands together, rearranging her stethoscope around her bruised neck, "Your tests are looking good. I think you're free to go home today! But please-" she turned to Chan, who had his hand wrapped around your shoulder, "-make sure she doesn't do any physical activity. I know, her being a top class soloist is hard, but she absolutely cannot do any physical activity until her next checkup." Chan smiled gently at the doctor and shook her hand bracingly. "Thank you Dr Yang. And I'll make sure she doesn't even move a limb until you say so." Dr Yang laughed heartily and moved out the door, chan following behind her, while a nurse removed all the saline bottles hooked up to your veins. "Thank you." You said, as she threw all the bottles into the bin. She looked like a warm presence, with her hair tied into a bun, exactly how your mother used to do it. "It's alright." She fidgeted with her fingers. She mus'nt have been older than you, probably three or two years younger. "Uh Ma'am?" She approached, "I know it's insensitive to ask you in such times like this. B-but-" she looked down at the floor, "my little girl, she's 15 and she really loves your songs a-and her birthday is coming up and I saved up enough to buy her one of your albums." Your heart warmed at her words, distracting you from what happened the night before. "It really would mean the world to me if you could sign the pc. I would love to see her this weekend, since we haven't been talking much." You smiled at her and took the pc she offered you. You traced the frame of the pc and laughed at your younger self posing for the photo, dressed in a tube top that would barely fit you now. "Here you go." You handed the pen and the pc back to the nurse. "May I ask, you seem so young to have a child? Were you-" you lingered in the last words as the nurse smiled again. "Got pregnant when I was 16." She let out a chuckle. "Couldn't let my baby go, so I endured it for nine months, and now she lives with another family. I visit her from time to time to give her gifts and remind her I still exist. She's started calling me mom now!" Your heart engulfed in flames hearing the nurse's words. The excitement with which she talked about her daughter was so melodious to you, like hearing one of Chan's songs before the rest of the kids did. It was like that word you read once what was it what was it? Ukiyo! The Japanese word. To be unbothered by the duties of life, when your heart tells you to. A beautiful word, you thought. Languages really are pretty, more prettier when you notice for the first time, that you weren't alone.

"Baby can I lie down on the bed for a minute?" You had finally reached home after what seemed like the longest drive of your life. It felt lonely, to have nothing in your arms instead of having a crying baby. You didn't mention a word of it to Chan. True, letting go is easier than keeping it in, but as you looked at his bloodshot eyes and remembered Minho telling you in secret about how much your husband wept, you decided to keep it in just a little bit.

"Sure darling." Chan guided you slowly to the bedroom, his arms holding you so tight yet so fragile, "I'll wake you up when you need to eat alright?" He kissed your forehead as you hummed in response, drifting off into peacefully troubled sleep.

"Ahh fuck." You groaned as you woke up. You checked the time on your phone. It hadn't even been fifteen minutes since you slept. You decided that it was best to wake up and go outside to your husband, instead of laying in bed with your pillow giving you the worst ideas.

"Ch-channie?" You voiced out, nervously stepping into the kitchen. You couldn't see a broad shouldered figure clad in black anywhere in the kitchen, so you gave up your search there and instead strolled over to the living room.

There he was. Dozing off on the sofa, without a blanket. You smiled at him gently shivering every now and then. You could hear him muttering something in his sleep.

"No- not- fault", he kept muttering, "ocean-give the". He started shivering a little more violently, and you could see his fingers start to fidget. You sighed and went over to his sleeping figure, and upon closer inspection you saw that his eyes were twitching uncontrollably.

"Baby?" You shook him gently, to which he groaned but still didn't open his eyes. "Channie wake up." You shook him more harshly this time. "Wh-what?" He mumbled, slowly opening his eyes and blinking up at you, as he usually did on the rare times that he fell asleep. "Baby were you having a nightmare?" You plopped down next to him on the couch and wrapped a blanket around both of you. As if it was a natural response, Chan wrapped his arms around you and buried his head into your neck. "Just had a dream about the ocean." He mumbled into your neck. "Alright Mr Huggabear." You chuckled, feeling his breath on your neck, "How about we order something hmm?" Chan nodded, still not removing himself from the crook of your neck.

You picked up your phone and quietly tapped your fingers on it, ordering all of Chan's favourites, without him knowing, as he was still deep in your neck. "I'll pay." You heard him mumble, trying to stifle a yawn. "It's alright baby." You stroked his curly hair, "I already paid so you don't hav-"

The sound of the bell echoing through your house slightly startled you. Was the delivery man already here? That was certainly quick, you thought as you decided to give the delivery man a tip for his speed.

"I'll go darling. You sit." Chan finally got up, rubbing his eyes. You smiled up at Chan and got up anyways to turn the tv on, switching to the last episode of Hannibal.

"Uh baby?" You heard Chan call your name from across the house, "Paul's here!"

Paul was one of your many managers, the main one you could say. And yes, only ONE of your many managers, because a world class soloist has got to have atleast a hundred of them right?

"Hey Y/N!" Paul walked in casually, followed by some members of staff. You felt slightly uncomfortable having so many people in your house, but like a good Samaritan, you kept it in. Chan followed behind.

"Nice of you to drop in Paul." Chan smiled, "Please do sit down." Paul plopped down on the sofa opposite you as Chan sat down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "What can we do for you Paul?" You smiled gently. Paul brushed a hair out of his face and pulled out a paper, giving it to you. "So I got the schedule for your shows." Paul smiled brightly, "Tomorrow you'll be performing in Busan and for the next month-" "I'm sorry can we pause for a moment?" Chan's stern voice shut Paul up. "She can't perform." He took the paper from your hands, and gave it back to Paul, "She's on maternal leave you know that right?" Chan eyebrows were furrowed and anger was starting to creep up to his face. You put your hand on his, a weak attempt to calm him down.

"Now now-" Paul laughed awkwardly, "no need to get angry Mr Banhg. But this is entirely Y/N's buisness not yours." "Excuse me?"

You felt Chan visibly shake beside you. "Channie-" you whispered, in a vain attempt to calm him down. "This is my buisness, she's my wife incase you didn't know. And she just had a miscarriage, so could you atleast pretend to be sympathetic, you fucking Asshole?" Flames seemed to erupting from Chan, as Paul scoffed, looking offended. "Mr Bangh I really suggest you not use such language." "And I suggest you leave right now." Chan fired back, as you watched the scene unfold, not being able to do anything, "Tell PD Nim that she cannot perform and whe most certainly will not."

"Mr Bangh." Paul started, but Chan was quicker in his words. "Nothing you say will convince me to let her go so please I suggest you leave."

"Whatever." Paul scoffed, getting up along with the rest of the staff and swinging his bad over his shoulder. "When she loses her fans because of her laziness, don't tell me I didn't tell you so." You could have punched Paul right then and there and you were going to if Chan hadn't gotten to him quicker. The glass vase on the round table fell off and shattered noisily as Chan slammed Paul into a wall. You heard gasps from the rest of the staff members and you rushed over to Chan, holding him by his arm and whispering "let him go Channie he's not worth our time" into his ear. Chan begrudgingly let go of Paul who adjusted his collar quickly and scampered out the door, along with the staff. "Hey!" Chan called out to the last staff member who was about to leave. She turned around quickly and bowed to Chan. "Tell JYP that Y/N will be on a hiatus for the next three months and Bang Chan from Stray Kids will also be on hiatus for very related reasons. Put emphasis on the related. Got it?" The girl nodded frantically and rushed out the door.

"Chan" you sighed heavily, "Alright that slamming into the wall was hot, but what was the hiatus about?" Chan meekly smiled up at you, a total contrast to how he was five minutes ago. "You're not going anywhere nor are you doing anything related to performing in three months. You're staying at home and I'm feeding you chocolate and hugs and kisses until you die." You laughed heartily and plopped down onto the couch, getting the food that had magically appeared at the doorstep.

"I love you Channie." You rested your head on his shoulder, leaning into his warmth. "I love you too babygirl." Chan kissed your forehead, "More than you could ever know."

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httpdwaekki · 3 months ago

Text

movie night | s.c. ft b.c.

summary: after a rough day all you wanted was a movie night with your favorite boys, but when they forget it feels like you’re world is crumbling.

wc: 2.1k

warnings: hurt/comfort, fem!reader, gendered terms of endearment (sweet girl, baby girl, etc.), crying, meltdown.

a/n: i kinda got lost in the sauce w this one but week three wooo!!! don’t forget to check out @straykeedz versions!!! i hope you guys enjoy and as always, drink water, eat something, and take ur meds. <3

(i tense switch alot during this, i wrote it half asleep most of the time, i’ll edit it eventually lmao)

my library | bee’s vers | bee | binnie month | fundraiser

(pictures not mine! credit to owners!)

you were having a terrible day, nothing was going right and the only thing keeping you from completely breaking down was the movie night you had planned with your boyfriends.

8 o’clock came and you were all set up in your living room with snacks, blankets and of course wolf chan and dwaekki. you were sat on the couch, barely containing your excitement for the night ahead.

but then 8:15 came and you were still sat there alone, and then 8:20 you decided to send them a gentle reminder.

from sweet girl <3:

hi my loves, i’m all set up for movie night whenever you guys are ready 🖤

but 8:30 rolled around and then 9:00 and by that point you had sent several texts

from sweet girl <3:

i’m assuming you guys are still at the studio, just let me know when you’re on your way! love you guys 🖤

it’s getting kinda late, i hope everything’s okay, love you both very much 🖤🖤

i hope everything’s okay, but it’s getting late so i’m heading to bed, we can do movie night another night, goodnight my loves

now it’s 10:00, you had a terrible day and now the one thing you were looking forward to fell through, you were defeated. at your last texts you moped into your room needing nothing more than your warm bed and comfort movie.

luckily you had already put the snacks away after an hour of waiting realizing they probably forgot. once cozy in bed, you put monsters inc on your tv and pulled the two stuffies to your chest.

it was at this point the realization of what happened hit and you couldn’t stop the breakdown that followed. tears streaming down your face, breathing terribly uneven, and incoherent words falling from your mouth.

“they- they forgot about me.” you whimpered, hugging the plushies impossibly closer to you. the hoodie from changbin that usually helps calm you down, was now just a painful reminder of the two missing people.

you ripped the article of clothing off in an attempt to calm yourself, throwing it across the room. you settled back into the soft mattress, placing the gray and pink plushes to the side, opting for your soft blanket to calm yourself.

luckily after a few minutes your comfort movie had worked it’s magic and you felt yourself relax enough to finally fall into dreamland, tears drying against your skin as you slept.

unbeknownst to you, your boys were scrambling 15 minutes away in the studio. the producers had a habit of locking up their phones during their working hours to limit distractions but unfortunately that caused them to also forget about the plans they made with their favorite girl.

“oh fuck, hyung we gotta go, like now.” changbin shot up out of his chair once he realized the time. they were supposed to be at your apartment 2 hours ago to start movie night. “huh? what, what happened, what’s wrong?” trying to figure out what could’ve pulled such a reaction from the younger boy.

“look at the time,” he points to the time to emphasize his statement. “oh fuck,” the older of the two’s eyes goes as wide a saucers, whipping his head to the former. “we were supposed to be there 2 hours ago.” bin nods his head before moving to shut everything down.

“okay, okay, relax bin, let me save everything, you pack everything up then we can leave, okay?” changbin nods, realizing he’s right, this will all be completely in vain if they lost everything they were working on.

in the midst of gathering their items, changbin finally looks at his phone where he finds all the messages you sent, the last one being sent 15 minutes ago. he quickly texts out a response, hoping you hadn’t fallen asleep yet.

from binbin <3:

princess we’re so so sorry, we got caught up in work, we’re packing and heading to you now. we love you so so much baby. 🩷🩷

he puts his nail in his mouth, gnawing on it anxiously as his leg shakes. after saving all the files and shutting everything down, chan turns back to find a very anxious changbin staring at his phone.

he makes his way next to him, placing his hand on the shaking leg. “hey, what’s going on?” he asks gently. changbin looks up, unshed tears line his soft eyes. “she texted us 11 times.” his breathes, shaking his head, showing him the phone screen.

“and we ignored every single one of them. what if she was hurt? what if something happened? we would’ve never known” he rambles, sending himself further into a spiral.

“hey, hey,” he gently grabs the younger’s cheek, “she’s safe, she’s home in bed asleep,” his thumb slowly stroking his cheek, soothing the anxious man. “we’re going to her now, everything will be okay, okay?” bin nods his head, closing his eyes, letting a stray tear or two run down his cheek.

chan wipes the tears before placing a soft, loving kiss to his temple. “okay, let’s go see our girl.” chan smiles, grabbing his hand pulling him up with him.

once they made it to your apartment (not without breaking a few traffic laws), they let themselves in with the spare key you made them. quickly discarding their shoes, practically running to your room but not without missing the wrapped up snacks in your kitchen or the discarded blanket pile on your couch.

changbin pauses, guilt clutching his heart as he sees your discarded preparations. “come on.” chan quietly ushers, pointing to your room with a quick movement of his head. bin is quick to follow, needing to see you as soon as possible.

chan opens your door, finding a sleeping lump in the middle of your bed and none other than monsters inc playing softly on the screen. that alone told them everything they needed to know but then the thrown hoodie on the floor and two plushies laying next to you instead of clutched to your chest?

they knew they messed up, big time. bin went to rush to you, to wake you up and apologize profusely but chan stops him. “hold on, you might scare her.” bin nods understanding that even though he means well, you were in a very fragile mental state.

the older man carefully sits on the side of your bed, placing a hand to your shoulder. it was only then did he catch a glimpse of the tears stains dried to your chubby cheeks. his breath hitches, causing changbin to look after, catching sight of the same thing, his eyes filling with tears once more.

chan holds out his hand to give him a quick squeeze and a kiss before turning back to the problem at hand. he lays his chin on your shoulder, softly rubbing your arm to coax you awake.

“sweet girl,” he whispers, placing kisses to your shoulder, trying to wake you up as softly as possible. “wake up baby girl.” you slowly come back to consciousness, realizing that there was someone touching you.

you would have been scared if you didn’t recognize the familiar aussie voice. chan sits back as he feels you stir, bin coming to sit beside him, placing a hand to your thigh.. you turn to find your boys looking at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

you feel the familiar sting behind your eyes but you quickly rub your eyes, masking your tears. “hi” your voice quiet, sleep lacing your voice. “hi sweetheart.” the aussie coos, “hi bunny.” bin whispers, his fingers tracing patterns on your thighs soothing him you.

“we’re sorry baby, we completely lost track of time, and we put our phones away so we didn’t see you texted, we’re just- really sorry bubba.” you nod, willing your tears away before you spoke.

“it’s okay, i understand.” you say lowly, fidgeting with the soft material to keep your composure. but try as you might the two boys knew you all too well.

“no it’s not,” bin finally speaks, causing you to catch a glimpse of him. two streaks shine on his soft cheeks against the glow of the tv, caught your eye. you sit up, moving chan, attempting to reach changbin.

“it’s not okay, we knew we had plans with you today, and not only did we miss it, we ignored you-” you cut him off with a kiss, your hand coming to wipe the wet streaks away. you pull away, your own tears making their way down your chubby cheeks.

“i am upset, but i’m not mad. i just had a bad day and this was the one thing i was looking forward to and it was just the final straw.” pause, sniffling as chan grabs the hand still in your lap.

“i was inconsolable and your hoodie and the stuffies just felt like a reminder of my bad day.” you look down, your hand falling from the soft man’s cheek to your lap, where he grabs your hand. you hear a sniffle, cause your head to shoot up where you find them both with wet streaks on their cheeks.

your lip wobbles as you see your boys upset, you shake your head frantically. before you can even open your mouth, chan shakes his head before moving behind you, pulling you to his chest. binnie moves to sit in chan’s previous position, placing a soothing hand on your thigh.

“do not apologize, you did nothing wrong, us being upset or missing movie night is not your fault, nor is it your problem to fix.” he whispers in your ear, rubbing your soft tummy. your lip wobbles again, dropping your head into your hands as you sob.

bin moves to wrap his arms around you, bringing you to him as best he could with you against chan. they knew you were upset and the best thing for you was to let you cry it out as heart wrenching as your sobs are.

they just hold you as you calm down, binnie rubbing your back, placing kisses to your temple. chan rubbing your tummy, placing kisses to your shoulder.

you pull away once you feel calm enough, wiping your tears as you sniffle. “thank you, both of you, i love you both more than you know.” you give bin a kiss first before turning around as best you could, doing the same to chan.

“come on, let’s get you to sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning, sweet girl, okay?” he pats your tummy, waiting for you to nod your head before moving the blankets to give you space in the middle of the bed. you carefully move over, shivering as you land on the cold side of the mattress.

both boys get up, chan rounding the bed to get to the other side while binnie goes to grab his discarded hoodie. he makes it back to your side as chan sits on the edge of the bed.

“sit it up for me quick bunny. “ he says, kneeling on the bed, scrunching the fabric. you sit up, lifting your arms so he can slip the familiar fabric over your head. once you slide your hands through the sleeves, the hood covering a part of your face.

you give him a cheesy smile before shooting out to wrap your arms around him. he wraps his arms around your shoulders, placing a big kiss to your hood covered head. “mwah!” he plops down next to me, getting comfy under the blankets.

you adjust the hoodie a bit before leaning against the plush pillows. chan lifts up the two stuffies, placing them to your chest, wrapping your arm around them. you smile once again, rolling over to place a big kiss on his cheek.

once you settle back into the bed, they both wrap their arms around you, making you feel safe and secure. “good night bubba, we love you,” chan whispers in your ear before placing a loving kiss to your soft cheek. “so so much bunny.” binnie finishes, placing a kiss to your other cheek.

you melt right into their arms. you get comfortable, turning on your side to face binnie, laying your head on his chest, grabbing chan’s arm to stay around you. “i love you both too, more than you know.” you mumble, placing a kiss to bin’s pec and chan’s hand.

you all melt into each other, relaxing slowly as sleep welcomes you, the soft sounds of monsters inc playing as you all lay peacefully in each other’s arms.

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felixknow · 6 months ago

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SKZ Friends to Lovers Fake Texts <3

Bang Chan edition, ft. 3RACHA group chat

contains jealousy, passive aggression, and ghosting. fem!reader is an old friend who Bang Chan recently got back in touch with <3

masterlist

#bang chan x reader #bang chan fake texts #skz x reader #skz fake texts #stray kids fake texts #stray kids x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan drabble #stray kids fanfic #bang chan scenarios

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eoieopda · 7 months ago

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If you’re interested in writing it, I would love to read a part two of “the one with Chan and the promotion”! It’s so sweet and cute and I go back to it when I feel sad or sick and just want someone to take care of me lol.

aw, i’m so glad you liked it! here’s part two ✨

the one with chan and the promotion pt. ii

you needed a ride home after getting your wisdom teeth removed. chan just so happened to be free.

pairing: bang chan x gn!reader type: drabble (fluff, hurt/comfort), ongoing au: fuck buddies to ? rating: 18+ — minors do not have my consent to interact with me or my work. wc: 1.3k cw: reader’s pov this time!; no smut but it’s referenced due to the nature of their relationship; reader had outpatient dental surgery (not depicted); reference to blood/swelling, no gendered language used. a/n: this is a continuation of this drabble, which @moni-logues requested last year. in order for things to make sense, please read pt. i first! as of 8/5/24, part iii has been posted, per request. navigation. skz permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist. request rules.

Upon waking up, the first thing you do is take inventory.

The list of things you don’t have is the longer of the two: four of the teeth you initially left home with, a blanket on top of you, your bearings, or any substantial memory of the how and when you got back to your apartment.

What you do have is a pair of slippers on your feet where your shoes used to be and a hand in yours, warming your palm. Bleary-eyed, you stare down at the five fingers interlocked with yours while your brain scrambles to load. It doesn’t. You swear you hear the Windows XP error noise sounding off in the back of it when your eyes flick up and find Chan’s closed, fluttering ever so slightly as he sleeps.

You don’t mean to voice your surprise out loud, especially not above a whisper, but it slips past lips still buzzing as sensation returns. “Christ!”

Chan doesn’t startle, which doesn’t necessarily surprise you. His roommate, who you’ve heard tell of but never met, is apparently prone to sudden shouting, apropos of nothing. He does stir, though, just slightly.

“No,” he mumbles without opening his eyes. Though he doesn’t witness the quizzical look you give him, he must suspect your confusion, nonetheless. Stifling a satisfied, albeit sleepy chuckle, he jokes, “My English name is pronounced Chris.”

It’s then that his eyes crack open, taking you in immediately and softly, pupils dilating. He’s never looked at you like that before. You don’t know what to do with it.

Flustered, you divert your gaze to your hands the way you always do, only to find that one of his is still holding one of yours. You don’t know what to do with that, either. To cover the fact that you don’t know what to say, you clear your throat, hoping the words will materialize after a bit of stalling. They don’t.

Chan, noticing your preoccupation, interjects and sits upright next to you on top of your still-tucked-in comforter. “Oh.”

He retracts his hand. A sheepish smile spreads in tandem with a flush of red across his cheeks and neck, so heated with embarrassment you can almost feel it from several centimeters away.

“Had a hell of a time getting you through the door and getting your shoes untied,” he starts, laughing awkwardly.

Oh, indeed.

You’d asked Chan to drive you; called him specifically for that singular task because your other, closer friends — the ones who haven’t seen you naked — don’t. On top of their collective lack of licensure, you know them all too well to trust any one of them with wrangling a highly medicated person on public transit. You’d be a liability in and of yourself; your chaperone couldn’t be a disaster, too.

Going into this, you’d believed that Chan had his shit together well enough to get you from Point A to Point B in one piece. You were right. He did, and even though he could have, he didn’t stop there. Not only did Chan get you inside, but he also swapped your shoes for slippers to avoid dragging dirt into your apartment.

He rubs the back of his neck, continuing, “You — uh — well, you wouldn’t let go after I corralled you in here.” The hand fussing with the hair at his nape gestures vaguely around your bedroom, which he’s seeing in sunlight for the first time ever, not unlike the way he’s witnessing you.

Once again, you search for words and come up with none.

There was no expectation of gratitude motivating his powerfully quiet act of kindness. Clearly, he didn’t expect to still be here while you napped off the lingering fog from the anesthesia. But he is here.

“I must have quite the grip when I’m high,” you manage to offer.

A way to ask without truly asking: Why are you still here?

Chan snorts, then he shakes his head while he answers, “Nah, you moved like you were made of jelly. I just didn’t want you to cry again.”

Somewhere, a record scratches. Your eyes go wide, expression otherwise withheld to keep your shock and mortification to yourself.

Again?

Vulnerability isn’t a thing you do. It took all you had to ask for his help in the first place. You’d rather drop dead on the ground than cry in front of anyone, let alone the person you keep at arm’s length and still sleep with on a recurring basis. Absolutely not. There’s no fucking way.

“What?” You croak. Almost as embarrassing as the crying, your dried-out throat and the hoarseness of your voice leave your face burning. You clear your throat again. It doesn’t make a difference. “Why did I cry? Pain?”

Fuck, you hope so. You pray for some yet unknown, minor surgical complication that would justify this uncharacteristic crack in your armor. For some excuse you can lean on.

“Worms,” Chan chirps with a shrug, as if that explanation truly explains anything.

You balk. “I would never cry over seeing a worm. It didn’t even rain this week; there wouldn’t be any on the sidewalk.”

He clamps his lips together for a moment, like he’s steeling himself, trying not to laugh in your face. You appreciate the gesture, kind of. Rather, you would — if he had a better poker face. The one looking back at you instead looks fully endeared, which makes you more embarrassed than his laughter ever could.

“I ran into the pharmacy to grab your pain meds, and when I came back to the car, you were sobbing. I was freaking out, thinking you were hurt or something, but no.” His grin comes at full force. “You were scared that worms may not have best friends.”

Oh, my god.

“Oh, my god,” you groan, this time out-loud. Instinctively, you drop your burning cheeks into your hands, hissing in pain the second they settle. You jerk backwards, yelping, “Oh, my god.”

Proving his attentiveness in real time, Chan shifts closer quickly, like a starting gun has been fired. His hands encircle your wrist gently, prompting you to look at him. Once he has your attention, his eyes scan your face in search of visible injury. A triage of sorts. Worry evident, he checks in: “You good?”

Yes, and no.

Yes, your gums are especially sore now that you’ve put excess pressure on them; but no, there isn’t a mouthful of blood hiding behind your tightly pursed lips.

Yes, you feel safe and cared for with him here; but no, you’re not fucking used to it, and it’s making your blurry brain spin.

How are you supposed to answer that question? You don’t even know which one he’s really asking. Before you say a word, you take inventory again.

What you have is Chan in your bedroom while the sun is still up, fully clothed and above the sheets. He’s here because when he tried to leave, he gave into your small act of subconscious resistance, too afraid of upsetting you. He stayed. He’d witnessed you cry about worms, and he stayed — perfectly still at your side long enough to fall asleep.

What you have is medication to deal with the pain you just exacerbated because Chan went out of his way to pick it up from the pharmacy.

What you have is heart palpitations, a different type of nerves blooming when you realize that dispelling his worry now will result in him taking his reactive touch away.

What you don’t have is the strength of will to lie to someone who looks at you the way Chan currently is, like he may not be able to breathe correctly unless and until he knows you’re okay.

“Yeah,” you eventually sigh. “I am. I’m good.”

In fact, you’re even better when he and his hands choose — once again — to stay.

pt. iii

while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.

skz permanent taglist: @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sourkimchi @stayceebs97

multi permanent taglist: @jihopesjoint @bahng-chrizz, @notevenheretbh1

#bang chan #stray kids #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan imagines #stray kids imagines #bang chan scenarios #stray kids scenarios #bang chan drabble #stray kids drabble #chan #skz #jade writes #jade’s requests #re: the one with chan and the promotion #kvanity

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