Hi i hope I am in the right spot! What about either stray kids or Ateez are about to go on tour and it’s your first away from each other for so long. You decide to surprise him with a boudoir album before he goes. How do you think they’d respond?
pairing: Straykids x reader
warnings: mentions of nudity, established relationship, some teasing
disclaimer: not my pic!
꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ꒱
❤︎Bang Chan❤︎
You walked him all the way to the airport, fingers laced together until the very last possible second. Bang Chan tried to memorize everything. The way your thumb brushed his knuckle. The weight of your head against his shoulder. The quiet ache that always came with goodbyes.
At the check-in gate, you finally let go and reached into your bag instead.
“I have something for you,” you said, pressing a thin album into his hands.
He looked down at it, brows knitting together in confusion. “What is it?”
“Open it later,” you said quickly, resting a hand over the cover before he could lift it. “When you’re alone.”
That only made him more curious. He laughed softly, eyes warm but puzzled. “Oohh, so serious.”
“Just promise me,” you said.
He nodded, squeezing the album to his chest. “I promise.”
The flight felt longer than usual. He boarded with the album tucked carefully into his backpack, heart still buzzing from your goodbye. When he settled into his seat, Han dropped into the one beside him with his usual energy, already peering over Chan’s shoulder.
“What’s that?” Han asked, pointing at the corner of the album peeking out.
Chan hesitated, then shrugged. “An album.”
Han grinned immediately. “What kind of album?”
“I don’t know,” Chan admitted. “She told me not to open it until I was alone.”
Han’s eyes lit up with dangerous curiosity. “That makes it way more interesting.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Chan said, though he did not fully believe it himself. He shifted in his seat, suddenly aware of the album’s weight. “But I promised.”
Han chuckled, leaning closer. “Well...technically we are alone. Plane full of people who mind their business.”
Chan shot him a look. “Pretty sure that's not what she meant.”
But Han was already nudging his arm, teasing and relentless. “Come on, hyung. Just one peek. I won't tell.”
Chan sighed, torn between loyalty and curiosity. Against his better judgment, he reached into his bag and pulled the album out. His fingers hovered over the cover for a moment before he finally opened it.
The first image stole the air from his lungs.
His eyes widened. Heat rushed straight to his face. His ears burned. He flipped one page and immediately felt like his soul had left his body. You looked confident. Beautiful. Intimate in a way that felt meant only for him.
“Oh,” he breathed, barely audible.
He snapped the album shut so fast it made a soft thud, clutching it to his chest like it might escape. His entire face was red now, neck included, and his heart hammered violently.
Han burst out laughing. “What was it? What did you see?”
“Nothing,” Chan said too quickly.
Han leaned over, trying to grab the album. “Let me see.”
Chan yanked it away instantly, twisting his body toward the window. “No. Hands off.”
“Hyung,” Han protested, still laughing. “You can’t react like that and expect me not to be curious.”
Chan glared at him, still blushing furiously. “This is not for you. This is private.”
Han raised his hands in surrender, grin widening. “Okay, okay. I get it.”
Chan adjusted the album carefully back into his bag, zipper closing with finality. He leaned his head back against the seat, eyes squeezed shut, trying to calm himself down.
You had really done this to him. Given him something dangerous and trusting him to carry it across the world.
And suddenly, the tour felt a little less lonely.
❤︎Lee Know❤︎
It was well past midnight when he finally made it into the hotel room. The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence settled immediately, thick and heavy after the noise of travel. Lee Know kicked off his shoes without bothering to line them up, dropped his bag near the wall, and let himself fall back onto the bed fully clothed.
The mattress dipped beneath his weight. He stared up at the ceiling, arms spread, exhaustion seeping into his bones.
Then he turned his head.
The album peaked out of his bag, neat and deliberate, exactly where you put it before he left. For a moment, he simply looked at it. His lips twitched.
You had told him to open it when he was alone.
He reached for it slowly, fingers brushing the cover before he lifted it. He propped himself up on one elbow, the faint lamp light casting warm shadows across the room. For once, there was no one to tease him, no cameras, no members. Just him and the promise you had left behind.
He opened it.
His brows lifted slightly at the first page, amusement flickering across his face. The corners of his mouth curved into a familiar smirk as he took you in. You wore his favorite lingerie, the one he had once mentioned offhand and then never forgot. The photos were confident, unhurried, like you knew exactly who would be looking at them.
“Tsk,” he murmured quietly.
He turned the page.
Then another.
His gaze softened without him realizing it. There was something intimate about the way you looked at the camera, like you were speaking directly to him. When he reached the photos of you wearing only his shirt, sleeves too long, fabric familiar, his smirk deepened.
“This little devil,” he muttered fondly.
He lingered over those images the longest. The way the shirt fell on you. The way it belonged to him and now, somehow, to you too. He could almost hear your laugh, imagine the exact tone you would use if you caught him staring this intently.
He closed the album once he reached the end, thumb pressing against the cover as he leaned back against the pillows. His eyes shut briefly. He exhaled through his nose, something warm settling in his chest beneath the usual sharp edges.
You had done this on purpose.
He picked up his phone.
The call rang once. Twice. Then you answered, voice soft with sleep and surprise. “Minho?”
“I opened it,” he said simply.
There was a pause on the other end, then a quiet, knowing hum. “You did?”
He glanced at the album again, still resting on his chest. “You told me to open it when I was alone.”
“And?” you asked, teasing already present in your tone.
A low chuckle escaped him. “You really are a naughty girl.”
You laughed softly, and the sound went straight through him. He closed his eyes, imagining you curled up somewhere far away, probably pretending innocence.
“So I guess you like it,” you said.
He did not deny it. “I love it” he replied calmly. “Especially the ones with the shirt.”
“That was your favorite,” you said.
“It still is,” he answered.
He shifted on the bed, one arm tucked behind his head, album secured safely beside him. “You’re lucky I’m tired,” he added. “Otherwise I’d have a lot more to say.”
You promised to behave while he was gone. He scoffed lightly, knowing better.
When the call ended, the room felt less empty. He placed the album back on the nightstand, within easy reach, and turned off the light.
Sleep came easier than he expected.
❤︎Changbin ❤︎
You had to shake him awake.
“Binnie. Changbin. You’re going to miss your flight.”
He jolted upright with a startled noise, hair a mess, eyes wide with instant panic. “What time is it?”
“Too late,” you said, already dragging him out of bed. “Shoes. Now.”
Everything after that blurred together. He pulled on clothes half-wrong, bumped into furniture, apologized to the air, and grabbed his bag while you shoved essentials into his hands. The ride to the airport was fast and quiet, broken only by his muttered groans and your barely contained laughter.
You made it just in time.
At the terminal, breathless and flushed, he turned to you and wrapped his arms around you tightly, squeezing like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. His heart thudded hard against yours.
“I’m sorry,” he said into your hair. “I swear I set an alarm.”
“I know,” you murmured. “But you made it.”
He pulled back just enough to kiss you, quick but deep, like he was trying to store the feeling for later. Another hug followed, tighter than the first. When he finally stepped away, he wiped his face, took a steadying breath, and turned to leave.
Then you reached out.
“Shit, wait.”
He stopped, turning back with a confused expression. You pressed the album into his hands, fingers lingering just long enough to make his curiosity spark.
“What’s this?” he asked, already tilting it to look.
“Just open it later,” you said, placing your palm over the cover before he could lift it. “When you’re alone.”
His brows shot up. “Why?”
You shrugged, lips curving into something playful. “Just trust me.”
He squinted at the album, then at you. “But isn't it just photos?”
“Maybe.”
He laughed, nervous and loud. “What kind of photos then?”
You didn’t answer. You just grinned and bit your lip.
The color drained from his face for half a second before rushing back full force. His eyes went huge. “Wait,” he said slowly. “Are you serious?”
You laughed, stepping closer and fixing the strap of his bag. “You’re going to miss your flight if you keep talking.”
“Hold on,” he insisted, clutching the album tighter. “You can’t just do that and send me off.”
You kissed him again, quick and sweet, pressing your forehead to his. “Open it when you’re alone,” you repeated. “Go.”
He stared at you, stunned, cheeks burning, brain clearly short-circuiting. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah but you love me,” you said.
He did not deny it. He leaned in for one last kiss, deeper this time, hands gripping your waist like he needed to ground himself. When he pulled back, his grin was wild and flustered.
“I do,” he said. “I really do.”
Then he turned and ran.
He didn’t stop until he reached security, heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with being late. He glanced down at the album clutched in his hands and let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head.
“Nudes,” he muttered to himself, still blushing. “There’s no way.”
But the way you had smiled. The way you had bitten your lip.
He boarded the plane with his thoughts spiraling, the album tucked safely into his bag like a secret too loud to ignore. He kept shifting in his seat, bouncing his leg, replaying the moment over and over.
He could not wait to be alone.
And the entire flight, his grin never quite faded.
❤︎Hyunjin❤︎
You were still tangled together in bed when the clock betrayed you.
“I hate this part,” you muttered, voice muffled against his chest. “I hate being separated from you.”
Hyunjin chuckled quietly, one arm tightening around your shoulders as his fingers brushed through your hair. “I know,” he said softly. “But I’ll call you. Every chance I get.”
You tilted your head up to look at him, lips pushed into a small pout. “I know you will.”
He smiled at that, fond and a little sad, memorizing your face like he always did before leaving. His other hand traced slow, absent patterns along your arm, like he was stalling time on purpose.
Then you shifted.
“Wait,” you said suddenly, slipping out of his hold just long enough to reach into your nightstand. You pulled out a thin album and handed it to him. “This is for you.”
He blinked, sitting up slightly as he took it. “For me?”
“For when you’re lonely,” you said simply.
His curiosity sparked instantly. He tilted the album, examining the cover. “What is it?”
You only grinned and shrugged, eyes bright with something teasing and secretive.
That made his lips curl into a slow smirk. “You’re dangerous,” he said, already lifting the cover.
“Hyunjin,” you warned lightly. “You’re going to be late.”
“I still have one minute,” he replied, voice calm but eyes focused as he opened it.
The first page stole his breath.
He froze.
Then he gasped softly, eyes widening as he took in the image. You were captured in deep, artistic colors, shadows and light painting your body like a living canvas. It was intimate without being crude, beautiful in a way that felt deliberate and vulnerable.
He turned the page.
Then another.
Each photo felt more personal than the last. The poses were graceful, confident, almost poetic. He traced the edge of one image with his thumb, reverent, like he was afraid to disturb it.
“Are you serious?” he whispered, looking up at you in shock. “You’re… you’re incredible.”
Your cheeks warmed, but you smiled. “They’re just pictures.”
He shook his head slowly, eyes returning to the album. “No,” he said. “They’re art. You’re art.”
His fingers brushed over the pages again, slower now. His jaw tightened, and he bit his lower lip unconsciously, gaze flicking between the album and you.
“If I stay any longer,” he said quietly, voice dropping, “I really will miss my flight.”
You laughed, reaching out to push his shoulder playfully. “Go,” you said. “Before you get us both in trouble.”
He let the album fall closed and leaned in instead, kissing you deeply, unhurried and full of everything he didn’t have time to say. His hands framed your face, thumbs warm against your cheeks, like he was committing the feeling to memory.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“You are the most beautiful person to exist,” he said, absolute certainty in his voice. “Don’t ever forget that.”
You watched him grab his bag, still flustered, still glancing down at the album like it might disappear. At the door, he turned back one last time, smiling softly.
“I’m keeping this with me,” he said. “Always.”
Then he was gone, and the room felt quieter.
But you knew that wherever he was headed, he would not feel alone.
❤︎Han❤︎
The dorm was loud in that special way it always was before travel. Bags lay open on the floor, someone was arguing about chargers, and Han stood in the middle of it all, spinning slowly as he checked his pockets for the third time.
“Passport,” he muttered. “Phone. Wallet. Earbuds. Notebook.”
“You already checked that,” you said, crouched near his bag and neatly folding something he had abandoned earlier.
“I know,” he replied, pacing anyway. “But what if I forgot checking that I checked it?”
You laughed under your breath and reached into his open bag, tucking the item neatly into place. “You’re fine.”
He stopped pacing and watched you for a moment, a bright smile spreading across his face just from seeing you there, helping like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Okay,” he said, clapping his hands once. “Last call. Anything else?”
You stood and held something out to him.
It was the album.
“This is for you,” you said. “So you won’t forget me.”
His eyes lit up instantly. “As if that’s possible,” he said, already taking it. “What is it?”
Before he could open it, you snapped it shut with a quick movement. “Later,” you said. “Only when you’re alone.”
He blinked. “Why?”
“Because,” you replied simply.
He laughed, bouncing slightly on his heels. “You can’t just do that.”
He tried to open it again, slower this time, more careful.
You shut it again just as fast. “Han.”
He froze, then laughed nervously, glancing around the room where the others were still moving about. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Wait,” he whispered. “Is this what I think it is?”
You didn’t answer.
His eyes widened. “Oh my god.”
He reached for it again.
You swatted his hand away lightly. “Hey!"”
He recoiled dramatically, clutching his chest. “You’re really serious.”
“I am very serious,” you said, fighting a smile. “You cannot show that to anyone.”
He nodded quickly, cheeks already warming. “Okay. Okay. I promise. I’ll behave.”
He hugged the album to his chest protectively, pouting just a little. “You’re evil,” he added, though his grin ruined the accusation completely.
You leaned in and kissed him, quick but sweet, grounding him for just a second. His hands found your waist automatically, holding on like he always did when things felt overwhelming.
“Don’t forget to eat,” you said softly. “And sleep.”
He nodded, suddenly calmer. “I’ll call you,” he said. “A lot.”
“I know.”
You helped him zip his bag, straightened his jacket, and gently pushed him toward the door when the others called out that it was time. He took one last look at you, then at the album tucked carefully under his arm.
“Later,” he said, eyes sparkling. “When I’m alone.”
He waved as he left, still glancing back until the door finally closed.
And as the noise faded down the hallway, one thing was certain.
There was absolutely no way he was going to stop thinking about that album the entire trip to the airport.
❤︎Felix❤︎
The airport café buzzed quietly around you, a calm pocket carved out of the chaos beyond the glass walls. Felix sat across from you, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands as he poked at his food, stealing glances at you like he was trying to memorize every detail before it was time to go.
“I’m serious,” he said, voice low but earnest. “I’ll text you. And we’ll FaceTime every night.”
You smiled, resting your chin in your hand. “Your night time or mine?"
He paused, blinking once. Then he straightened like the answer mattered more than anything. “Mine,” he said immediately. “I’ll stay awake for you.”
Something warm settled in your chest. You reached across the table and grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His thumb rubbed over your knuckles instinctively, like it always did when he was trying to reassure you.
Then, with your other hand, you slid something across the table.
The album came to a stop in front of him.
He frowned slightly, curiosity flickering across his face. “What’s this?”
You shrugged, casual on purpose. “Find out.”
He chuckled softly and lifted it, glancing at you once more before opening it.
The reaction was instant.
Felix nearly choked.
He coughed sharply, hand flying to his chest as his eyes went wide, snapping shut as he focused on swallowing the bite of food in his mouth. You watched him with barely contained laughter as he took a deep breath, cheeks already blooming pink.
“Felix,” you said gently. “Breathe.”
He nodded quickly, finally managing to swallow. He opened his eyes again, glanced down at the album, then back up at you like he needed confirmation that you were real.
“No,” he whispered. “There’s no way.”
He closed the album, pressed his lips together, then opened it again more carefully this time. His movements slowed as he turned the pages, expression softening into something awed and a little overwhelmed. The noise of the café faded for him, replaced by the quiet intimacy of what you had given him.
He sighed, long and helpless, shoulders slumping slightly.
“You just made this so much harder,” he said softly.
You laughed. “That sounds like a you problem.”
He looked up at you, eyes warm but serious now. “I mean it,” he said. “I’m going to miss you so much already. And now this?”
He gestured lightly at the album, still open in his hands, before closing it carefully and holding it to his chest like something precious. His blush had not faded, freckles standing out against the warmth in his skin.
“I’m thankful,” he added quietly. “Really thankful.”
You reached across the table again, brushing your fingers against his wrist. “I wanted you to have something comforting.”
“It is,” he said immediately. “But also dangerous.”
You laughed again, softer this time.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice even though no one was paying attention. “When I get back,” he said, tone gentle but resolute, “I’m going to show you exactly how thankful I am.”
Your smile slowed, mirroring his.
They called his boarding group not long after. He stood reluctantly, slipping the album safely into his bag before pulling you into a hug that lingered just a little longer than necessary.
“I’ll stay awake,” he reminded you as he pulled back. “Promise.”
You believed him.
As he walked away, he glanced back once more, smiling like he was already counting the days until he could keep that promise in person.
❤︎Seungmin ❤︎
Seungmin stood in the hotel room with the lights turned low, moving quietly out of habit rather than necessity. Changbin was already asleep in the other bed, sprawled sideways with one sock kicked halfway off, breathing deep and steady. The room smelled faintly of detergent and travel fatigue.
Seungmin unzipped his bag and began unpacking with the same careful precision he always had. Clothes folded. Toiletries lined up. Nothing rushed. He liked order, especially after long days.
That was when his hand brushed against something unfamiliar.
He paused.
He slightly furrowed his brows and tilted his head as he pulled the album free. He stared at it for a second, clearly confused. He did not remember packing it. He turned it over once, checking the cover like it might explain itself.
Then something slipped out and fluttered into his palm.
A note.
For when you finally get a quiet moment. I hope this keeps you company. Love you.
His shoulder softened immediately when he recognized your handwriting. He unfolded it carefully, eyes scanning the short message, lips pressing together in that thoughtful way he had when something touched him deeper than he expected.
He sat down slowly on the edge of the bed.
Changbin stirred, mumbled something unintelligible, then went still again. Seungmin waited until the room settled before lifting the album again, movements quiet, deliberate. He opened it carefully, as if he were afraid of making too much noise even with paper.
The first photo stopped him.
He froze, breath hitching just slightly, eyes widening before he could stop himself. You knew that look. The one he tried to hide when something genuinely surprised him. His gaze lingered, tracing details you had worried over when the photos were taken.
He turned the page.
Then another.
His expression shifted, awe settling in slowly, deeply. He did not smile right away. He simply stared, absorbing, processing. His jaw tightened faintly, while his thumb brushed the edge of the page unconsciously.
He swallowed.
“Unbelievable,” he whispered, so quiet it barely existed.
He glanced instinctively toward Changbin, as if caught doing something forbidden, then back down at the album. He continued flipping through the pages slowly, reverently, committing every image to memory. There was no rush in him, only focus.
When he reached the end, he closed the album gently and rested it on his lap. He leaned back slightly, eyes lifting to the ceiling, breath leaving him in a controlled exhale.
He wanted to call you
His phone was already in his hand before he remembered where he was. He unlocked it, thumb hovering over your name. Then he looked over at Changbin again, snoring softly, completely unaware.
Seungmin hesitated.
He lowered the phone, lips curving into a small, resigned smile. Instead, he opened a text.
I found the album.
A pause.
We’re going to have a serious talk when I’m back.
He read it once, then sent it, placing the phone face-down beside him. He slid the album carefully into the nightstand drawer, like something private, something meant to be protected.
Then he lay back on the bed, one arm folded behind his head, eyes staring up into the dim room.
Sleep did not come easily.
Miles away, your phone lit up.
You read the message and smiled, slow and warm, heart fluttering just a little. You could see him so clearly in your mind, quiet and thoughtful, holding your gift like it mattered.
You set your phone down, already looking forward to that serious talk.
❤︎Jeongin❤︎
You were curled up on your bed with your phone propped against a pillow, Jeongin’s face filling the screen. He looked tired in that soft way he got after long days, eyes a little heavy, hair still slightly damp from a rushed shower.
“I miss you,” he said quietly, resting his cheek in his palm.
“I miss you too,” you replied. “How’s the hotel?”
“Big,” he said. “Quiet. Too quiet.”
You smiled. “Did you unpack yet?”
He shook his head immediately. “No. I’m too tired.”
You raised a brow. “You should.”
He groaned. “Nah I'll do it tomorrow.”
“Jeongin,” you said, tone teasing but firm. “Open your bag.”
He frowned at you through the screen. “Why are you so insistent?”
“Because something is waiting for you.”
That caught his attention.
He sighed dramatically, then pushed himself up off the bed, phone wobbling slightly as he carried it with him. “You’re suspicious,” he muttered, setting the phone down so you could see him kneel in front of his bag.
He unzipped it and started rifling through lazily, clearly expecting something small. Then he stopped.
He pulled out the album.
His brows knitted together as he turned back toward the phone, holding it up so you could see. “What is this?”
You laughed softly. “Open it.”
He hesitated. “Now?”
“Yes, now.”
He glanced around his room like he was making sure no one else was there, then sat back on the bed and opened it.
The reaction was instant.
His eyes went wide. His breath hitched audibly, a sharp gasp escaping him before he could stop it. The phone slipped from his hand and landed face-down on the mattress.
“Jeongin?” you laughed, unable to help it. “Are you okay?”
There was a moment of silence. Then the phone was lifted again, his face flushed from cheeks to ears, eyes still blown wide with disbelief.
“You can’t do this,” he said, half-scolding, half-stunned. “You’re actually evil.”
You grinned. “So you like it.”
He looked back down at the album, flipping a page more carefully this time, then another. His expression softened, awe replacing the shock. “It’s… really beautiful,” he admitted quietly.
Then he looked back at you, exasperated. “But why would you give me this when you’re miles away?”
You laughed. “So you don’t forget me.”
“As if that was even possible,” he said, shaking his head. “But this is torture.”
He closed the album and pressed it lightly to his chest, still flushed, eyes warm now instead of shocked. “Do you know how hard it’s going to be to behave now?”
“Well not my problem,” you teased.
He scoffed, lips curling despite himself. “I’m serious. When I get back, my balls will be navy blue.”
You liked the way he said it, like a promise wrapped in a complaint.
He set the album carefully on the nightstand and lay back on the bed, phone angled toward his face again. “I really miss you,” he said, softer now.
“I know,” you replied.
He smiled, tired but fond. “I’m keeping this safe,” he added. “But next time…you're showing me those poses in person.”
You believed him.
