insomnia
idol!chan x producer!reader, afab!reader
word count: 4.9k
genre: tiiiiny bit of angst, fluff, smut - minors dni please!
warnings: sleep issues, (work-)friends to lovers, a teensy bit of anxiety I guess, dom!chan, brat!(?)reader - idk how to describe it tbh there's no reeeal dynamic of that kind, oral sex (f. receiving), choking, piv, he calls her babygirl once, darling and baby used very sparingly, basically they've both been into each other and didn't quite realise that until now -- did I miss smth?
summary: chan helps you with a work issue and it turns into something different
a/n: hii so it has finally happened, my first skz fanfic has arrived! I already have wayy too many ideas for future ones and I'm like not a hundred percent satisfied with this one but it's the first thing I've written in a year (?) so go easy on me please. I just needed to get my chan feelings out in some way or form and this happened ANYWAYS enjoy byyye - katie
also hi @chvnnie this is the fic I was talking about - you've been a huge inspiration btw I would almost go so far as to call you the main reason I wrote this at all whoops
this is a work of fiction and does not represent stray kids.
You’re in your head. It’s not an unusual thing, in fact it’s how you spend most late-night hours in your tiny studio. You almost live here, it’s basically your second home. If not your first, your actual flat being your second. While a lot of people stay late to work on their various projects, only very few stay quite as late as you do.
It’s one of the few moments you are not troubled by the weight on your shoulders. Three a.m. in the morning, absentmindedly reaching for a cup of now cold coffee, drinking it without noticing its staleness, too deeply immersed in whatever you’re working on to care. Your fingers are flying over the keyboard, eyes flitting over the different tracks in the audio program before you, feverishly changing, moving, improving.
Only today something goes wrong. You don’t know what you did, but within seconds, everything is gone. You blink. The audio program is empty. Not a single track lies before you. The progress you’ve amassed over the last hours, days rather, vanishes right before your eyes. You try a couple of short-keys and combinations but not one single track returns.
“Ugh, fuck me”, you sigh, wiping your face.
“Well, if you insist …”
It startles you, but once you recognise the voice, you relax. Chan is standing in the doorway of your studio – you had left the door open to let some air in, after a particularly hot afternoon. The building was empty enough for there not to be anyone walking past. Well, almost.
Chan smirks at you, one dimple appearing in the corner of his mouth. While usually his comment would have made you laugh, chuckle at least, you can only huff out a lightly amused breath, before turning your head back to your monitor. Still empty lines where tracks used to be half a minute ago. Chan’s smirk turns into a frown.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
His concerned voice touches something inside you and you feel tears well up in the corner of your eyes. No. You’re not going to cry.
“I, uh, it’s nothing, really.”
“Sure”, he scoffs. “Cause I’m gonna believe that.”
He appears to the left of you and looks over your shoulder. After a couple more short-keys and opening three folders, you give up and lean back in your chair with a sigh. You’re not going to cry. It’s okay. It’s fine.
“Will you tell me what is going on or do I have to magically divine it from the fact that you are sitting in front of an empty audio program?” Of course, he got it immediately.
“I was working on something, and it vanished.”
He hums and his eyes focus on the monitor in front of you.
“It’s not important, really, I can do it again.”
His left eyebrow raises, then he leans over your keyboard and starts working on getting your tracks back. You feel guiltier the longer he takes, it’s just your own, self-indulgent stuff after all.
“Really, you don’t have to … it’s nothing important.”
“Tell that to the artists you’re working with. Or the hours you probably spent on this.”
You shake your head. “No, it’s-“
The tracks reappear. All of them. Like magic. You can only stare at the screen, dumbfounded. He stands back up, a proud smile on his face. Then he hits the spacebar, and the beat starts filling the tiny studio. You startle and jump forwards to stop him, but he grabs your shoulder and presses the spacebar himself.
“Why don’t you want me to listen to it?” He asks, a slight frown on his face.
You wipe your face. “It’s … personal.”
Chan crouches down next to you so that he’s roughly on eyelevel with you. “Hey. It’s just me.”
You turn the chair towards him, and he grabs the armrests. You look at him for a beat, then it hits you that you just almost lost everything you’ve been working on for a while. This is different than your usual work. This is personal. It’s a song that you’ve been producing only for yourself, not JYPE, not any other artist. This is your baby. You just almost lost it, and he brought it back. The tears come back, and this time they’re stronger. You just let it roll over you.
As soon as the first tear falls, Chan’s expression drops. “Oh no, no, what’s wrong?”
His hands fly from the armrests to your knees, then your thighs, rubbing soothing patterns up and down. Your sobs turn into hick-ups, and you hate it, hate that he sees you this vulnerable. No one ever does, you wear armour at work. It’s what you remind yourself of now. You reach for the shield you put up around your heart with both hands and pull, until it’s up again and your sobs die down. That’s the reason, yes. Not the fact that Chan is still kneeling in front of you and hasn’t stopped rubbing your thighs.
You breathe out shakily. In again, and out. Then you finally dare to look at him. “Thank you, for saving it.” You gesture towards the screen.
His look is still probing, searching for what you just broke down for, but a smile curls up the corners of his mouth. “Of course. It wasn’t that far gone, honestly. I barely did anything.”
You roll your eyes and weakly slap his arm. “Stop always understating everything you do.”
He chuckles. “I apologise profusely.” The formal tone makes you smile a bit.
“Now. Will you let me listen to this absolutely not important personal stuff you made?”
You hesitate and look at the open door.
“Let me rephrase. If I close the door, will you let me listen?”
This, and the adorable face he’s pulling, finally makes you laugh and cave. “I guess, yeah.”
Your eyes follow him as he gets up and walks to the door, closes it, and locks it.
“For good measure”, he winks.
It’s one of those moments that make you realise that in all the time you’ve been at JYPE, you’ve made a lot of acquaintances and a couple friends, but none as wonderful as him. You often think he’s too good for this world – the rest of his friends do, too. Although the rest of his friends probably don’t get all warm and fuzzy inside when he smiles at them. Or find it hard to concentrate when he wears muscle shirts. Or watches his performances, more than necessary, and then blames it on just wanting to be a good friend. Supporting him, and such. God you’re down bad.
He walks back to his spot next to your chair. His finger hovers over the space bar and he looks at you, the unspoken question in his eyes. You steel yourself and nod.
Then the beat fills the studio again. It’s the first time you have heard this aloud yourself, so far, you’d only ever listened to it on your headphones. You’re almost scared to look over to see his expression, terrified of his opinion. This is like a tiny piece of your soul, and you just handed it to him, hoping he would not drop it. Of course, he doesn’t. When you finally do, he stands there, eyes wide, looking over at you. His intense stare makes you squirm.
“It’s nothing special, and it’s not done yet, you know how it is with these things, they take ages to be finished and this is just very rough, I-“
“This is amazing”, he interrupts you. Now it’s your turn to be absolutely dumbfounded. “What?”, you blurt out.
He turns the music down a tad, then he turns back to you.
“I really like it. And it’s different from the stuff you make for other artists.”
Somehow, you’re still anxious.
“What I mean by that is that I always hear pieces of you in other people’s music and I’ve always been a bit sad that you don’t get to make stuff that’s entirely your own. This – “, he gestures over to the screen, “is really you. All of this. Like, I can hear some of your inspiration in this, but the entire thing just screams you.”
Which is the exact moment your singing starts, and you want to vanish into the ground. Because his mouth falls open, and he turns the music up again. Moments go by of him just standing there, completely taken by the music. His expression has softened and there is a slight smile dancing around his features. You lean over to turn the music off again, there’s only so much time that you can take listening to your own voice right now.
When Chan turns back to look at you, head slightly angled down, you’ve never seen a warmer smile from him than right now. It overwhelms you, the sheer affection for this wonderful man in front of you, and you shoot to your feet and throw your arms around him. He is startled for just a second, before he hugs you back so tightly that you feel like he put something inside you back together. It makes you cry again.
“Shh. It’s okay, darling. It’s okay.” He rubs circles along your back, and you breathe in slowly, engulfed by his scent that is so distinctly him.
“Thank you”, you mumble into his shoulder, and he chuckles, before pulling away. “What did you say?”
You huff, and lightly punch his arm. “I said thank you.”
“No, thank you for trusting me enough to show this to me.”
You try to hide in the crook of his neck, but he keeps you half an arm’s length from him. Somehow, you end up staring right into his eyes. The honesty and affection you find there send goosebumps up your arms, up until where his hands are still wrapped around them. Suddenly you realise how terribly close you are to each other, and how he’s just a friend and this shouldn’t make you as tingly as it does. You shake off his hands and clear your throat. He just sees you as a friend. Right?
Because the way his eyes burn with something you’ve never noticed before makes you question your own sanity. You try and look anywhere but into them.
“Hey, we should probably unlock the door again, you know, unless people start to wonder.”
He blinks. “Yeah.”
None of you moves.
“But it’s also 3 a.m. and we’re the only people in the building.”
There’s nervous laughter bubbling in your throat and you rub your arm only to keep your hands occupied. Then you make the mistake of looking at him again. It’s involuntary, really, your eyes get caught on his black sweatpants and travel up his body almost automatically. There’s not much you can do about it. And when your eyes hit his, you’re done for. He looks at you with such intensity that you simply cannot turn away. A shaky breath leaves your lungs when he blinks slowly, only to look at you again, the same fire in his eyes, pupils blown wide.
You open your mouth, “Chan, I – “
He moves closer, as if you saying his name had shaken him out of a stupor. He reaches for the hand that you wrapped around your arm and gently pries it away. When it falls to your side, he intertwines his fingers with yours.
“What are you doing?”, you whisper, unable to speak any louder, scared that it would make this real. Make this have consequences.
Chan’s thumb is drawing patterns on your hand, and it covers you in goosebumps again.
“I kinda really wanna kiss you.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes still locked onto his. They’re burning into you, but you can’t bring yourself to look away. He lifts his other hand up to your face and lightly touches your cheekbone. You have to actively keep your eyes from fluttering shut, body still covered in goosebumps. Your cheeks heat up under his gaze.
“Would that be okay?”
You breathe out a shaky “yes”, and he’s on you in seconds. He lets go of your hand and instead grabs both sides of your face, tilting it so that you’re looking up at him, before sealing your lips with his.
Everything is happening too fast. For a second, your arms hang limply at your sides, but then he starts moving against you and you can’t help but grasp the hem of his shirt and pull him closer. He hums against you, and you open your mouth almost on instinct. A tiny noise escapes you and he catches it, drinking it in hungrily. You push and he walks backwards until the back of his knees hit your chair. He clumsily sits down, and you move until you’re straddling him.
Only then do you break the kiss, both heavily panting as you stare at each other. You lift your hand from his shirt and start tracing his lips, his cheekbone, until your palm lies flat against his cheek. He nuzzles into it and closes his eyes, hands falling to your waist. God, you think, he’s so pretty. You watch his chest rise and fall rapidly and feel his thighs move under yours, and that’s when you realise what exactly is happening right now.
“Channie”, you whisper, and his eyes fly open, fingers playing with the hem of your t-shirt.
“Hm?”
“What are we doing?”
His fingers start pulling your shirt up just enough to be touching the delicate skin of your waist and you shiver, biting your lip to stop a sound that would have been decidedly too desperate.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m doing something I’ve been wanting to do for way too long.”
Your hand slips to his neck and his eyelids flutter, but there is a concerned look in his eyes. He sees your hesitation.
“Should we be doing this? Are you even allowed to?”, you ask.
His fingers stop and he lifts his hands to your face, searching for something in your eyes. “I could not care less about what we should or shouldn’t do. The only thing I care about right now, is if you want this. But if you don’t, then that’s okay.”
You melt at the honesty in his expression, shiver at the way his fingertips are toying with the hair on the nape of your neck.
“What exactly does this mean?”, you whisper. It feels impossible to move right now. Like you’re being held in place by his intense eyes.
“Well.” His thumb brushes over your cheekbone and you sigh.
“First of all, I want to kiss those pretty lips of yours. And then”, his fingers travel from your neck down your arms, “I’d like to make you come so hard the only thing you remember is my name.”
A moan tumbles from your lips, and almost on instinct you roll your hips against his crotch. He hisses and grabs your waist. “But I need to know you want that, too.”
You nod, a bit too quick for your liking, but you don’t find it in yourself to care anymore. His hands gently rock you against him and your eyelids flutter, gaze locked onto his. “Use your words, babygirl. I need to hear you.” The condescension shakes you out of your haze.
“Don’t be so fucking patronising.”
A smirk curls around the corners of his lips. “Still need to hear ya, though.”
You lean down as if to kiss him and sink your teeth into his lip, just enough for it to sting, pull, and let go again. He watches you with the intensity of a predator watching his prey and something inside you relishes in it.
“Yes, I want that”, you finally give in, “I want you.”
He pounces with a low sound that comes from deep inside his throat, a growl, almost, and latches onto your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in, kisses open mouthed and messy. His hands keep holding you against him. You roll your hips, both of you moaning in unison, your hands are in his hair, and you pull on his curls until he moans into your mouth, making you smile into the kiss.
He feels it against his lips and pulls away. “Oh, you’re a mean one, hm?”
The smile you give him in return would be angelic, if not for the vicious glint in your eyes. It makes him chuckle lowly, before suddenly standing, pulling you up with him and picking you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around him, and he walks over to the sofa in the corner of the room, lowering you down until your back touches the cushions.
He's kneeling between your legs, propped up with one hand next to you, the other on your cheek again. You tip your head back, baring your throat, and you can see understanding flash in his eyes. His hand slowly moves down until his fingers wrap around you and you feel the slight pressure on your pulse point. Your breath quickens.
It makes you want to rub your thighs against each other, but his legs are in the way, leaving you to squirm under him as he just watches you intently. His other hand travels up your body and pushes your shirt up with it, until he finds your sports bra. His thumb glides over your hard nipple poking through the fabric and it sends a spark of electricity right to your core.
“You wanna play mean? I can do that.”
His fingers close further around your throat and the increasing pressure ever so slowly clouds your mind, until your mouth falls open and you whisper his name.
“Hm?”
You try and move your core against his thighs but you’re too far away, his hand keeping you in place.
“Do something”, you hiss as he just keeps watching you, an amused smile on his face.
“Did you forget your manners, baby?”
You roll your eyes but decide to play along. “Please, do something.”
“But you look so pretty like this.”
Your hands fly up to his arms and you groan, but he just chuckles. “I told you, I can be mean. But I’m starting to get impatient too, don’t worry.”
His hand leaves your throat. All the blood comes shooting back, an intense clarity that leaves you gasping. You only notice that he has taken his shirt off when he leans back down towards you, reaching for the hem of your own t-shirt. He looks up at you, a question in his eyes, that you answer with a quick nod. Then he finally pulls your shirt up, making sure that his fingertips travel over your skin along with it, showering you in goosebumps.
He pulls the fabric off of you and you reach for him, fingers connecting to the smooth skin of his chest. You let your hands run down his stomach when he leans down to kiss you, trailing along the waistband of his sweatpants. His breath hitches when your fingers dip into his boxers, but he reaches down to stop you.
“Nu-uh. You first.”
He sits back on his heels and pulls on your leggings, throwing the piece of clothing behind him absentmindedly. You’re in front of him only in your underwear now, nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric of your sports bra.
“You’re fucking hot, you know that?”, he mumbles, and you feel your cheeks heat up before he grabs the hem of your panties and pulls. Cool air hits your core, and only then do you realise how embarrassingly wet you are already. He looks down at you and curses under his breath.
“Fuck, look at you. Already soaked, and just for me?”
You nod, “only you”, breath hitching as he lazily moves two fingers all the way up your entrance until they are pressing into your clit. You start moving against him on instinct, eyes rolling back as you finally get some relief. He lets you, for a few seconds, before pinning your hips down to the sofa. Your eyes snap open, a desperate whine leaving your lips.
“Hush, baby. I’m gonna take care of you”, he mumbles, before leaning down and licking a broad stripe along the way his fingers just did.
It makes you absolutely lose your mind. Your hips buck up and you moan loudly, hands flying into his hair, just to grab onto something, anything, to keep you grounded. The tip of his tongue dips into your entrance and your head tips back with a groan. His left hand holds you steady, before he dives in again, nose brushing past your clit with every movement. Your thighs tremble, you’re already way too close even though he barely started yet. You feel yourself clench around nothing.
“Channie, please …”, you sigh, and he looks up at you, tongue not leaving your body.
“Hm?”
The sound reverberates against your sensitive skin, and you shudder, looking down at him. Fuck, he looks good. Lower part of his face covered in your slick, curls sticking to his forehead, he laps at you like a starved man.
“Can you – fuck, Channie, fingers, please – “, is all you manage to choke out, but he has mercy on you.
You feel the tip of his finger tease your entrance and you clench in anticipation, before he pushes in and you close your eyes again, a desperate moan leaving your lips. He curls his finger upwards, and you know he’s close, so, so close to where you need him, but he isn’t quite there yet. You can feel the high approaching, can almost reach for it.
“More, please”, you press out, brows furrowed, and he adds a second fingers, curls up, and hits the spot. You swear you see stars for a second. Your mouth falls open, a string of incoherent words tumbling over your lips, and you feel him smile against you. It almost sends you over the edge on its own.
“Found it, hm?”, he mumbles, and you hum, every muscle in your body tensed.
“Look at me”, he whispers.
You somehow manage to lift your head, moaning at the sight before you. He dives down again, holding eye contact and your fingers pull on his hair, coaxing the sweetest moans from him. He curls his fingers up once, twice, and you snap. Your high washes over you with an intensity you’ve never felt before and he flattens his tongue against you, helping you ride out your orgasm with long strokes. Once you finally stop clenching around his fingers, he slowly removes them, making sure not to hurt you. You still wince at the sudden emptiness. Finally, you untangle your fingers from his hair.
He climbs up until he is face to face with you and you blink until he’s in focus again. He smirks at your blissful expression. “D’you have fun?”
You decide to tease him. “Eh.” You shrug. “Was fine, I guess.”
“Fine?” He stares at you in disbelief. “Clenched around me like you were holding on for dear life, but you say it was fine?” You chuckle, but the determination in his face sends shivers down your spine.
“Okay. You know what, I’ve had enough of your attitude.”
He sits up on his heels, before getting up and taking off his sweatpants, pulling his boxers off right with them. He reaches down for his pocket and pulls out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth, and rolling it over his cock, before he kneels back down, slowly pumping himself.
“Let’s see what you say after I’m done with you.”
His lips crash into yours and at the same time, you feel his fingers on your clit. You hiss at the slight overstimulation, but pull him closer by the neck, moaning into his mouth. You can still taste yourself on his tongue and it makes your stomach flutter. Then you feel his tip push against your entrance. He pulls away to check in with you, but you pull him back in.
“Please, Chan, need you”, you pant against his lips, and he groans, before pushing into you.
It's an entirely different sensation from his fingers and both of you moan at the same time, before he bottoms out and stills, fighting for his composure. He begins moving ever so slowly and you appreciate that he wants to be careful, but something inside you wants him to lose control. You lean up and drag your teeth across the shell of his ear, drag your fingernails across his back. He shivers, his arms buckling and his forehead falling onto your shoulder. His pace picks up and you kiss him on his pulse point, before whispering into his ear, “fuck me like you mean it.”
He stills. You let yourself fall back down grab one of his hands, leading him towards your throat. “Please.”
A smirk curls up the corners of his mouth. “I knew you could use your words.”
He pulls out almost completely before he bottoms out again and closes his fingers around your throat. Everything around him becomes hazy, he’s the only thing in your mind, the only thing you see. His hips snap against yours at a relentless pace and you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, instinctively lifting one of your legs. He grabs it and pushes it up against your chest, changing the angle, and finally hits that spot again. Your eyes roll back, moans tumbling from your open mouth as he keeps slamming into you, before slightly adjusting his position. His hand leaves your throat, and your mind refocuses, his thumb pressing against your lips which you open oh so willingly, sucking his thumb into your mouth.
“Fuckin hell”, he groans, rhythm turning sloppy as he watches your lips wrap around his finger. “Such a good fucking girl, hm?”
He pulls his thumb out with a pop and you whine, but he hushes you. “Impatient”, he tsks, before rolling the pad of his thumb over your clit. Fuck, you’re still so goddamn sensitive. His hips snap against yours again and then he hits the spot inside you.
“’M close”, you moan, and he nods.
“Come on, let go for me, baby”, he answers, breathless, and it pushes you over the edge. When you thought your first orgasm was intense, it was nothing against this one. You feel so fucking full of him, he feels so right against you, and then his finger leaves your clit, and he falls towards you, hands on each side of your body, riding out his own high. His arms are shaking from the strain, and you push up to press your lips against his. He moves inside you and you shiver before he gives you one last peck and carefully pulls out.
You fall back against the cushion. He removes the condom, before crawling back up and snuggling against you, propped up on his elbows on each side of your face. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”
It makes you blush, and you turn your head to the side, suddenly confronted with what just happened. With whom it just happened. He sees the change in your expression immediately.
“Hey, look at me.”
You obey him and see the softest smile on his face, before he leans down and gently presses a kiss to your lips.
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?”
His fingers are playing with your hair, eyes intently fixed on you. You sigh.
“I – don’t know what this means. To you.”
He raises one of his eyebrows, “but you know what it means to you?”
Your heart lurches in your chest and resumes beating at a much quicker pace because yes, you do, and you hate having to admit it. You don’t know if you should admit it.
He kisses you again, longer this time. When your lips separate, there’s this softness in his eyes again. “Tell me what it means to you. Please.”
This is the truly dangerous part. Anyone can have meaningless sex, but it wasn’t meaningless, at least not to you. This is where the consequences come in. This is where you have to admit that you just ruined a perfectly fine friendship. You take a deep breath. You trust him. If anyone would be able to uphold a friendship after this, it would be Chan. So you steel yourself, and look into his eyes again.
“I like you a bit more than I originally planned to”, you whisper, not daring to speak up.
You’re close enough that you can feel his heartbeat. It quickens after he processed what you said, but where you expect him to tense up and leave, he leans down to kiss you again. You’re completely dumbfounded.
He holds your face and you close your eyes, simply enjoying the gentle pressure of his lips against yours. When he breaks the kiss, you steel yourself again. Your breath hitches when you open your eyes, his own swimming with emotion.
“I’m so glad you said that”, he whispers, thumb brushing against your cheek. “Because I do, too. And I was so scared this would be a one-time thing for you. I don’t think I could have lived with that.”
There are tears pricking in the corner of your eyes for the third time tonight, only this time you allow them. He leans his forehead against yours and you wrap your arms around his neck and then you stay like this, just breathing each other in. And you feel like your sleepless nights might have just become a bit easier to bear.
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