The prank
summary : y/n and chan are friends with benefits and through a prank she tries to learn his true intentions for her.
pairing : bang chan x reader (lee know as Y/N’s best friend)
genre : friends with benefits to lovers
word count : 4080
warnings : minor dni, 18+, smut, jealousy, possessiveness,explicit language, dirty talk, unprotected sex, angry sex, fingering, edging, begging, face fucking, doggy style, mention of spanking,mention of female receiving oral, breast play,hair pulling, biting/marking, creampie, empty threats (jokingly), angry and dom chan, menace lee know.
a/n : English isn’t my first language and I was a little tired when I wrote this, so please excuse any mistakes.
The relationship between Y/N and Chan was a masterclass in walking a tightrope. For nearly six months, they had perfected the "friends with benefits" dynamic. It was practical—she was a backup dancer, always in his orbit, and the company rules combined with their grueling schedules made a real relationship seem like an impossible dream.
He’d been the one to approach her, a kind smile softening his intense gaze, after a particularly grueling take. “You killed that” he’d said, his voice a warm rumble against the studio’s cool air. “Seriously, your timing is impeccable.” Y/N, flustered but pleased, had laughed. “Thanks. You guys are the ones doing the real heavy lifting.”
That initial spark had quickly ignited into a comfortable friendship, then, inevitably, something more. They were both workaholics, driven by their respective creative passions, and found solace in each other’s company. Chan was intense, thoughtful, and unbelievably kind, while Y/N was fiery, independent, and always up for an adventure. Their chemistry was undeniable, a silent hum that vibrated between them whenever they were in the same room.
Then came the "friends with benefits" conversation, initiated by Chan himself. It made sense on paper: two busy adults, both craving intimacy without the messy complications of a full-blown relationship that neither had the time or mental capacity for. It was convenient, passionate and for a time, perfectly suited their needs.
Except, Y/N knew it was growing beyond that for her. She saw the way his jaw would subtly tighten when another male dancer complimented her, or the almost imperceptible pause before he’d agree to her going out with other friends. And then there was Minho.
Minho was her rock, her confidante, her absolute best friend in the entire Stray Kids entourage. They’d clicked instantly, their shared love for sarcasm, dance, and all things chaotic forming an unbreakable bond. Minho, with his sharp wit and even sharper observations, saw everything. He saw the way Chan looked at Y/N when he thought no one was watching, and he saw the suppressed longing in Chan’s eyes. He also saw Y/N’s burgeoning feelings and Chan’s stubborn refusal to address them.
Chan, despite being the one who proposed the friends with benefits arrangement, found himself battling a growing, unwelcome feeling of possessiveness. He’d tried to rationalize it – a natural reaction to someone he was physically intimate with – but the truth gnawed at him. Especially when Minho was involved. Minho, the menace, who loved to tease him, who knew exactly how to push Chan’s buttons. Minho, who was always draped over Y/N, or whispering jokes in her ear, making her laugh that bright, uninhibited laugh that Chan secretly cherished. He wouldn’t admit the jealousy, not even to himself, because it would unravel the careful, detached facade he’d constructed around their arrangement.
Y/N, however, was tired of the game. She wanted more. She wanted a confession, an admission from Chan that he felt the same way she did, that their casual arrangement was anything but. And she knew just the person to help her smoke him out.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.
On a Wednesday afternoon, Y/N received a message from a criminally bored Minho. Apparently, he had discovered a brand-new anime and had decided — with zero hesitation — that they had to watch it together.
Since Chan was going to be stuck at the studio until late that night, Y/N figured this was the universe handing her a free pass to hang out with her favorite human menace.
“I’m bringing the snacks,” she replied.
Thirty minutes later, she was already at his door.
They were sprawled on his and Jisung’s dorm room floor, surrounded by empty takeaway containers and a half-watched anime series flickering on the large TV screen.Minho noticed something was off. Y/N wasn’t screaming at the screen or judging the characters’ life choices — which was suspicious.
“What’s going on in that chaotic head of yours?” he asked, pausing the anime dramatically.
“Min…What if he sees me just as a fuck buddy?” she blurted out. “What if he doesn’t care at all?”
Minho stared at her.
“Ugh.Are you stupid or something?”
“I’m serious, Minho! It was his idea.This whole… thing.”
“And you agreed” he shot back. “Then his little dick made you fall in love with him, and now you want more. And you’re seriously dumb enough to think his clingy ass doesn’t feel the same?”
At this point, he was basically reciting her own emotional breakdowns from memory.She sighed.
“There’s only one way to find out” she said,eyes lighting up. “And my little grumpy cat is going to help me.”
“No.”
“You’ll be the protagonist.”
“No.”
“You’ll make him suffer.”
Minho paused.
She could see the exact moment the idea clicked.
“Now we’re talking.”
Without wasting another second, Y/N explained her brilliant — and slightly risky — plan. Technically, Minho would be doing all the work. She just wanted one thing: Chan’s reaction.
If he lost control?
Well.
That would be all the answer she needed.
“He’s going to kill me” Minho said, a wide, predatory grin spreading across his face as he took another bite of his pizza.
“He’s going to kill us” Y/N corrected, giggling. “But it’s for a good cause. He needs a push, Minho. He thinks he’s so slick, hiding behind ‘casual.’ I need him to break.”
Minho hummed, considering. “So, the plan is: I get him to think I’m… deeply involved with you. Sexually. In this very room.”
“Precisely,” Y/N said, adjusting the oversized hoodie she’d borrowed from Minho.
She was comfortable, safe, and utterly thrilled at the prospect of the chaos they were about to unleash.
“He’ll be at the studio with Jisung and Changbin. Perfect, because Jisung will be too engrossed in music and Changbin will be too busy being Changbin to notice Chan’s meltdown immediately.”
“Excellent psychology,Y/N.You know our leader well.” Minho’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Alright. Consider it done. But you owe me big time for this.”
“Consider your revenge on Chan for that time he stole your last pineapple juice already enacted,” Y/N countered with a smirk.
“That’s a bonus.” Minho chuckled darkly.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.
It was nearing midnight, and the studio was buzzing with the low hum of machinery and the focused energy of creation. Chan, Jisung, and Changbin were in their individual zones, fine-tuning beats, lyrics, and melodies. Chan was particularly engrossed in a new track, his headphones clamped over his ears, fingers dancing across the mixing board.
His phone buzzed on the desk beside him. He glanced at it, a faint smile touching his lips when he saw Y/N’s name. He’d texted her earlier, just a casual check-in, and was expecting a quick reply. He tapped open the message… and saw no new reply from her. Weird. She was usually quick.
He sent another text. “Hey, still at Minho’s? Anime marathon still going strong?”
Minutes ticked by. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Still nothing. His smile faltered. He knew she was at Minho’s; they’d talked about it on her way to his dorm.But Minho was also Minho. And Minho had a habit of being… handsy. Not with Y/N, not in a romantic way, but physically close. He’d drape an arm around her, playfully push her head, steal her snacks. Nothing overtly flirtatious, but enough to trigger a tiny, irrational spike of annoyance in Chan.
He typed another message, a little less casual this time. “Everything okay? Haven’t heard from you.”
Another fifteen minutes passed. The studio was quiet now, Jisung having stepped out for a coffee run and Changbin deep in thought on a couch, headphones on. The lack of a reply from Y/N began to prickle at Chan. It wasn't like her to just vanish.
A slow, unsettling feeling began to creep into his gut. What were they doing? Just watching anime? Or was Minho being particularly… Minho tonight? He tried to shake off the irrational thought, but it clung to him like a damp blanket. He was the one who set the terms. Friends with benefits. No strings. So why did his stomach twist into a knot?
He scrolled through his contacts and found her name again. He hesitated for a moment, then dialed. It rang once, twice… then connected. But it wasn't Y/N’s voice he heard.
“Hello?” A muffled voice, slightly breathless, answered. It was Minho.Chan’s jaw tightened.
“Minho? Where’s Y/N? Why isn’t she answering my texts? Why do you have her phone?” His tone was sharper than he intended.
There was a slight pause on the other end, a rustling sound, like someone shifting their weight. “Oh, Chan-ah. Yeah, she’s… a little busy right now. She can’t really get to the phone.” Minho’s voice was low, laced with a casualness that grated on Chan’s nerves.
“Busy with what?” Chan asked, his voice now flat, devoid of its usual warmth. He gripped his phone tighter.
“You know,” Minho said, and Chan could almost hear the smirk in his voice. “Important things. Like… catching up on some quality time.”
Chan’s mind raced, filling in the blanks with the worst possible scenarios.
“What are you talking about, Minho?” he demanded, his irritation mounting. He knew what Minho was implying. He knew what Minho was capable of implying.
“She’s right here. On her knees, actually. To be honest, she’s doing such a good job I don’t think I want her to stop.” Minho purred, and then a noise that sent an icy jolt down Chan’s spine. It was a soft, drawn-out moan. Not a loud, exaggerated one, but a sensual, intimate sound that implied deep pleasure. “Y/N, baby, don’t stop—Chan’s on the phone, say hi.” Chan felt a sudden surge of heat, quickly followed by a cold wave of rage.
“Minho, if you’re fucking lying to me—” Chan started, his voice cracking with a mix of rage and disbelief. His knuckles whitened around his phone.
“I wouldn’t lie about something this good,” Minho interrupted, his voice dripping with mock satisfaction. “She’s so good at this, Chan, running her tongue… mmph… just there…”
A strangled sound escaped Chan’s throat. He could feel his face flushing, a primal heat coursing through his veins. He imagined Y/N, with her soft lips and nimble fingers, doing… that… to Minho. The thought was like a physical blow. His best friend. The woman he was intimately involved with.
“I’ll have her call you when we’re finished. Might be a while, though. She’s real thirsty today.” Minho practically whispered, making another soft, guttural moan, a little louder this time, perfectly timed, perfectly agonizing.
Chan slammed his hand on the desk, the loud thud echoing in the otherwise silent studio. Changbin, startled, looked up, pulling off his headphones. Chan ignored him, his eyes wide with fury and a sudden, sickening jealousy.
“Tell her to get on the phone NOW, Minho!” Chan roared, his voice cracking with rage. “I swear to god, if you don’t put her on the phone, I’m coming over there right now and I’m going to break both your legs!”
Minho’s next sound was not a moan, but a burst of unadulterated laughter. A loud, ringing peal of mirth that was quickly joined by another, equally joyous laugh. Y/N’s laugh.Chan froze. The anger, the jealousy, the stomach-lurching fear… all of it evaporated like mist in the sun, replaced by a profound, burning humiliation.
“You absolute idiots!” he bellowed into the phone, his face burning hot. His fury had not dissipated, but shifted, now directed at their sheer audacity.
Y/N’s voice, bubbly and breathless, finally broke through.
“Good job Min..We got him”
Chan was fuming, but beneath the anger, a flicker of something else began to stir. Relief. And a possessive warmth. She hadn’t been with Minho. She’d been playing him. And he’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.
“I’m going to kill both of you,” Chan said, but the threat lacked its earlier venom. He hung up the phone with a decisive click, his mind already racing.
Changbin, who had been watching the entire exchange with wide-eyed amusement, finally spoke up.
“Everything alright there, hyung? Sounded like… an intense call.” Chan merely grunted, running a hand through his hair.
“Everything is just fine, Changbin. I just need to… go take care of something.” He grabbed his jacket, his keys, and stalked out of the studio, ignoring Changbin’s confused expression.
His car ride to Y/N’s apartment was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Humiliation, yes, but also a growing resolve. She wanted to test him? Fine. He’d passed. He’d reacted exactly as she’d hoped, proving his feelings, even if he hadn’t admitted them aloud. But now, she was going to pay. He was going to make it abundantly clear that this ‘casual’ arrangement was anything but, and that she, Y/N, was his.
Y/N had barely been in her apartment for twenty minutes when the sound of her keypad being punched in echoed through the hallway.She was sitting on her sofa, a mischievous grin still playing on her lips, but a hint of nervousness flickered in her eyes as Chan stormed in, slamming the door shut behind him.
His eyes, dark with a mix of anger and something far more primal, locked onto hers. He didn’t say a word, just stared, demanding an answer.
“So,” she began, her voice a little shaky, “you’re not actually going to break Minho’s legs, are you?”
Chan stalked towards her, his movements slow, deliberate, like a predator circling its prey.
“Minho is going to get his. But right now, you’re the one who needs to be taught a lesson, baby.”
His voice was low, rough, sending shivers down her spine.Y/N swallowed, suddenly aware of the potent shift in the atmosphere.
The playfulness was gone, replaced by an intense, almost terrifying edge. Part of her was scared, but a deeper, more primal part of her thrilled at the raw possessiveness emanating from him. This was exactly what she wanted, wasn't it? The breaking of his composure, the shedding of the fwb facade.
He loomed over her, hands braced on either side of her on the sofa, trapping her. His scent, a mix of studio sweat, his familiar cologne, and something distinctly masculine, filled her senses. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in his muscles.
“You played a dangerous game tonight, baby girl” he murmured, his eyes burning into hers. “Making me think… that he was touching you.” His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, a possessive gesture that made her gasp.
“Making me think… that someone else was taking what’s mine.”
Her breath hitched. Mine. He’d said it. The word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken weight, with a possessiveness she’d craved.
“I… I just wanted to know,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to his lips.
“Know what?” he demanded, his voice a low growl.
“If you cared,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “If I meant more than just… convenience.”
A flicker of something akin to hurt crossed his face, quickly replaced by a fierce intensity.
“Convenience?” he scoffed, leaning in closer, his lips brushing hers. “Did that sound like convenience to you when I was ready to drive across the city and rip Minho’s throat out for daring to lay a finger on you?”
He kissed her then, a hard, demanding kiss that left no room for doubt. It was rough, punishing, and utterly thrilling. He bit her lip, then plunged his tongue into her mouth, a claiming gesture that stole her breath. Y/N met his intensity with her own, her hands rising to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more. He broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into her heavy-lidded eyes.
“You’re mine, Y/N,” he reiterated, his voice a raw whisper against her lips. “Casual or not you’re mine.You don’t belong on your knees for anyone but me.Do you understand?”
“Prove it” She dared him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, a mix of relief and overwhelming desire.
He lifted her from the sofa effortlessly, carrying her into the bedroom. He set her down gently on the bed, but the gentleness ended there. He stripped off his jacket, then his t-shirt, his lean, muscled body a testament to his dedication. His eyes never left hers, communicating a silent promise of what was to come.
He knelt on the bed above her, his hands going to the hem of her borrowed hoodie. With a decisive tug, he pulled it over her head, then discarded it, revealing the delicate lace of her bralette.He pulled down the straps freeing her breasts.His mouth latching onto her neck with sucking bites that would leave marks—his marks.His hand palming her breast roughly, thumb flicking her nipple until it peaked.She squirmed beneath him, heat pooling between her legs as his free hand popped the button of her jeans.
She helped him, her fingers clumsy with anticipation.He shoved them down along with her panties in one swift motion.
The air in the room was thick with unspoken words, with raw, unbridled desire.
She was finally naked beneath him and his eyes tracing every curve of her body, a slow, possessive gaze that made her shiver.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice husky. “To see me lose control?”
“Yes,” she breathed, arching into his touch as his fingers traced a path from her hip to her inner thigh.
“Good.” he growled, pushing her legs apart.
Cool air hit her bare skin, but his palm was there immediately, cupping her pussy possessively, fingers sliding through her growing wetness.
"Already soaked? Thinking about Minho’s filthy words get you this wet, or is it knowing I'm gonna fuck you senseless?" He plunged two fingers inside her without warning, curling them deep, pumping hard and fast. She cried out, hips bucking up to meet his hand, walls clenching around the intrusion. His thumb circled her clit, rough circles that made her vision blur.
“Answer me Y/N.”
“You Chan.Only you can make me this wet.”
The words spilled out on a moan as he added a third finger, stretching her, his mouth trailing down to suck a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing the sensitive bud. He worked her relentlessly, fingers scissoring inside, tongue lashing her breast until she was writhing, chasing the edge.
But he stopped abruptly, pulling his hand free, leaving her empty and aching. She whimpered in protest, but he was already standing next to the bed, jeans kicked away to free his cock, thick and veined, standing rigid against his abs. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, and he stroked himself once, eyes locked on hers, his expression raw and possessive.
“Minho said you were on your knees for him. Let’s make that a reality for me, shall we?”
He ordered her to kneel before him with her tongue out and she obeyed him without hesitation.He groaned at the sight, one hand fisting her hair, the other guiding his cock to her mouth. He teased the head along your tongue, coating himself in her saliva.She worked her tongue along the length of his cock and massaged his balls with one hand.
“Open wider” He groaned and she followed his instruction,opening wider her mouth for him to put his cock in.
He started thrusting in her mouth, so deep that he was hitting the back of her throat and she gagged. Tears started to form in her eyes as he fucked her face. His head was thrown back, his lips were parted and his moans filled the room.
“You think it was funny to have him tell me what you were doing to him? Do you want me to take a video and send him to see what this beautiful mouth is capable of?” He said through gritted teeth as he pulled her head back by the hair abruptly leaving her out of breath in front of him.
“Chan please..”
“On your knees. Ass up. Show me how much you want this dick, how much you want me."
She did as he told her, heart racing, as she climbed onto the bed on all fours, arching her back.He grabbed the cheeks of her butt, opened them and leaned between them, his tongue licking the inside of her folds.
“Fuck, Channie please..I need you” she pleaded.
The vulnerability of the position made Y/N shiver, but the way Chan’s hands gripped her hips, anchoring her to him, made her ache.
He didn't use a condom—this was beyond their usual careful routine.He fisted her hair to pull her head back slightly, the other guiding his cock to her entrance. He entered her in one swift, heavy thrust, a low growl escaping his throat as he filled her. Y/N cried out, her fingers digging into the sheets as the friction sparked through her.
“Is this what he said you were doing?” Chan hissed, his pace turning relentless. He wasn't being gentle. Each snap of his hips against hers was a punishment and a prayer.
"Minho’s got nothing on this. He can't fuck you like I do, can't make this pussy cream all over his cock."
She moaned his name, the dirty words fueling the fire, her body surrendering completely. He released her hair to slap her ass, repeatedly, the sting blooming into heat that made her push back harder, fucking herself on him.
He reached around, fingers finding her clit again, rubbing in time with his thrusts, each one deeper, harder, claiming every inch. Sweat dripped down his chest, muscles flexing as he pounded into her, possessive grunts filling the room.
"Cum for me. Show me you know who you belong to—gonna fill you up, mark you inside so you think of me every time you see him."
The pressure built unbearably, his cock dragging against her walls, hitting that spot that made her legs shake. She shattered around him, pussy spasming, gushing wetness down his length as waves of pleasure ripped through her. He didn't stop, fucking her through it, prolonging the bliss until tears pricked her eyes.
She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only feel the way he was marking her, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he neared his limit.
“Tell me,” Chan demanded, “Whose are you?”
“Yours,” Y/N sobbed, her head hanging low, her hair shielding her face. “Chan, please... I’m yours.”
“Louder.”
“I’m yours! Only yours!”
That was all it took. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself and came, hot spurts flooding her core, his groan raw and animalistic. He collapsed over her, still inside, lips pressing to her shoulder.
"Mine," he whispered, softer now, hand stroking her side. "Don't forget it."
The prank had unleashed something raw and untamed in him, a protective fury that had been simmering beneath the surface of their casual arrangement. He wanted her to feel it all, to understand the depth of his feelings, to never doubt again where she stood with him.
The silence that followed was heavy, filled only with the sound of their labored breathing. After a long moment, Chan shifted, rolling them over so she was tucked into his side. He kissed the top of her head, his grip still firm, as if afraid she might vanish.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he whispered, his voice returning to the gentle tone she knew, though the edge of possessiveness remained.
“I think I got the message, Channie.” Y/N leaned into him, her body sore but her heart strangely full.
“Good,” he murmured, pulling the covers over them. “Now call Minho and tell him if he ever touches your phone again, I’m kicking him out of the group.” Y/N laughed softly.
“He’s really lucky he is my friend,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse, “Because I almost drove over there.” He propped himself up on an elbow to look at her.
She chuckled, a contented sound. “I know,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I wanted you to.”
He sighed, running a hand through her still-damp hair, his arm tightening around her waist.
“And just to be clear,” he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin below her ear, “we’re not just friends with benefits anymore, Y/N.”
She smiled, a wide, triumphant smile as she nestled deeper into his embrace catching his lips in a soft kiss.
The prank had worked. And the lesson had been taught, in the most primal, unforgettable way possible. She was his, and he was hers, and no convenient arrangement could ever hide the undeniable truth of their hearts.
