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just4channie · 3 years

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room with a view

Summary: It’s common knowledge - late night rendezvous never end sweet or cutely. The sexual tension in the air is often mistaken for humidity - but at least in this penthouse tonight, you’ve both got it right.

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Bangchan x female reader (implied relationship)

TW: None applied

CW: Unprotected sex, cream pie, multiple orgasms, some (a little) dirty talk, some choking igggg - aftercare :)

Word count: 4,174

a/n: this originally was posted on my ao3 as a gojou fic but i felt i could change the vibes to chan, and so, here it is, with a few tweaks here and there.

The sky was illuminated with spots of white light and slight colour. The adverts plastered on large skyscrapers appeared a blur, the bright colours morphing into one another. The roads nearby lacked people, of course, as it was early morning - around 2am. The perfect time for an outing, it was decided. The moon lay watch over the world, an omniscient being. It cast a soft descending glow.

Your hair was windswept, the light breeze cascading around you and the man beside you in the vehicle. A classic convertible, roof down, old songs on blast, reminiscent of days that had long passed.

With each song came a time capsule. A distinct memory that every time it was heard it evoked a strong emotion. A bittersweet nostalgic feeling that verged on sour ever so slightly. But not in a bad way, the memories themselves were as delicate as though they were etched onto thin glass - even if some were the most thrilling of thoughts. The only sadness came when it was realised that these memories could not physically be relived. Not in the same way, at least.

Bangchan, the man beside you, drove with one hand on the wheel. His free hand lazily rested on the gear stick. A small smirk rested on his face and he stole glances every now and then. He wore his classic entourage of a whatever black garment he could find, and jeans. His cologne, you would have thought, would have been blown way past him due to his speed. However, it danced iridescently around you both. Not too strong, not too weak.

Your forearm rested on the side of the convertible, looking away from Chan momentarily to look out at the scenery. The lights of the city around you reflected in the body of water near the highway road you drove over. Even though Seoul was bustling, right now, if even for a minute, it felt as though you and Chan were the only two people in the city, hell, Korea even. The road was bare other than a few other drivers who perhaps even had the same intentions as you both, which reminded you that you were not, in fact, the only two people in Korea at all.

You broke your stare as you felt his hand reach lightly onto your thigh. He shot you an approving smile, “Lost in thought?,” he asked, and you hummed in response. He continued to drive, looking forward.

You didn’t know where you were going, what to do, who to see potentially. Neither did he. All you both knew was that it was becoming a regular thing to spontaneously grab the car keys and head out on a drive. However long was up to him. He didn’t know the direction; he didn’t want to, just wanted to hit the road and stumble into any old place. Anywhere, as long as you were by his side. It was thrilling, to just break the normal routine and reach for something slightly different.

He continued to drive for some time, the road continuing straight onward, breeze still flowing with the same humidity it held each and every time you did this.

He took the next slip road to exit, bringing you back to more suburban, street areas. The night was in full swing, people clubbing, bright lights flashing an inviting welcome to anyone who was curious. So vibrant, so alive.

Chan shifted gears, travelling much slower as even his own eyes took in his surroundings.

“You didn’t tell me where we were going today?,”

“I know, reasons.” He tapped his nose with the hand he usually lets roam free, shooting the same smile he often did. Mysterious.

He didn’t drive in the combusted area for a long time, and turned into the parking lot of a grand hotel. Sophisticated, chic, modern.

The hotel stood tall, an exterior of blue and tinted glass. Some lights were still on in some rooms, and the random arrangement of said lights created a mosaic.

Chan made sure to lift the roof of the convertible, before locking up and taking your hand to help you out of the passenger side.

“Did you plan this?,”

“Maybe.” He led you forward.

From there, you entered a hotel decorated with minimalistic taste. Square sofas, that looked, honestly, uncomfortable but were surprisingly comfy to sit on, potted succulents in grey and neutral pots, curving into geometric shapes, and glass coffee tables showcased the entrance.

The woman at the reception offered a warm smile, “Bangchan, is it?,” she politely asked as she click-clacked on her computer. Latest technology? Perhaps so. You couldn’t put it past this place, considering it’s grand appearance and size.

“Sure is,” he smiled, taking the key card swiftly from her hand as a hand on your hip guided you in front of him.

He whispered towards your ear, “Penthouse view, baby.” He crooned, his voice sweet and runny and somewhat like honey. It was enough to make your insides melt. The man talks with such ease; he has such a way with it.

You leant your head back onto his pectoral, fingers lazily pressing the silver button at the entrance of the elevator to grab its attention. When the door finally opened, you were greeted with a mirror.

Chan looked so effortlessly good. But so did you. You went hand in hand, really. Ever since you’d first met him, you found him to be ethereal. His looks gave the impression that he had nothing to offer other than his beauty - and maybe some hot sex. Plenty of people swooned after the man, swayed their hips in his presence in some sort of attempt at a mating call.

But it was you.

Always you.

He didn’t care about the kaleidoscope of feathers that tried to put him in a trance, if they didn’t sway in the ways yours did, if they simply weren’t you, it would not do. And of course - he did deliver some pretty hot sex. But when that sex started to turn into a way to become close, to bond, when not only his face was beautiful, but his soul was too, was when you really couldn’t have loved your life more.

When someone finally admired him for his strength, his determination, he knew that person would become special to him.

He tickled soft kisses on your neck as the elevator continued it’s escalation.

“Incredibly touchy tonight, aren’t we?,” you hum.

“I can’t help myself, look at you,” he almost whispered against your lobe, those words for you and you only.

You hadn’t dressed up much, you hadn’t needed to. It was a simple drive. And yet, he found such effortless beauty in it.

The elevator didn’t take much longer, arriving with a ding, causing Chan to guide you out backwards so as to stare at your reflection for as long as possible.

He stay clung to you, key card between his forefinger and his middle, guiding you effortlessly to the door number just for you both. Just for tonight.

He swiped the key card with ease, not placing it into the small plastic machine on the wall that was responsible for the electricity. He let the door close softly behind you both. Who needs lights?

“I didn’t realise we were so high,” you break from Chan’s grasp, walking sheepishly towards the large glass window of the penthouse. From there, you could see the view around you. The same bright advertisements greeted you, and the nightlight was as hectic as always was.

You turned to take in the room. It was spacious and open, a small yet modern kitchen that could fulfil the needs of those that would use it, open plan to the lounge area. There was a large TV mounted on the wall, probably idiotically large in your opinion, and the sofa was the same as downstairs. Square, minimalistic, comfortable despite this. The floors were a shade of grey wooden, chic and simple. The sofa, of course, as with the rest of the penthouse room, followed the same colour scheme as downstairs, whites, greys, neutrals. Basic colours that were so simple and yet were so effective in delivering their speech.

The moon created the perfect amount of natural light, and cast your shadow in the rest of the room. Chan beamed in awe.

“I thought you deserved a night away,” he spoke, finally.

“But we drive often. That’s enough,” you look over your shoulder, to find him leaning his elbows on the island in the kitchen, palms resting flat on his face to keep him upright.

Late night drives and rendezvous were usually the go-to with you and Chan. Sometimes there was just too much paparazzi to risk going out in the daylight. Sometimes it was just better to let those people and their cameras recharge until the early hours whilst you made memories of your own - unbeknownst to them, worth the thousands they’d pay to publish.

He placed the car keys and key card beside him on the counter. He took his phone out of his pocket, placing it to join the rest of the items and began to move towards you.

“Chan,” you spoke softly, arms coming to cage around his head in an embrace.

“Mmm?,” he stared intently.

“Thankyou.” You didn’t need to say what for. The smallest things, you appreciated. You made that known. That he’d kept in mind that you needed a small break, that he’d delivered just that. The stresses of working life, the stresses of dating an idol and each time Chan made note of it. He’d always make sure you’d have time for yourself. For you both.

His lips pressed softly against yours, but expressed such violent needs. Such desires that could not be spoken, only shown. He pressed himself into you firmly, but not aggressively. He showed what he wanted, needed, but was never pushy.

His kisses were, most of the time, soft. Tongue trailing along yours with the utmost delicacy. Slight nibble of the lip, followed by a slight tug on it, nothing too harsh. His consideration into how you felt always sent you into overdrive. One moment you could only feel the sensation of his lips on yours, then it would disperse, quickly reaching a crescendo where you felt everything at once, every vibration of the atoms in his body pursing through your bones, your entity.

Even now, as he brought his thumb to rub softly over your lower lip, he was soft. Frail, almost. It was as if he could not conjure enough strength to touch you with more ferocity. Perhaps he was waiting.

“Enough of this,” your hands reached to grasp his hair with light desperation.

His eyes were your favourite, such a deep pool of brown that were the gateway to how pure he was, his heart was unmatched. He was ethereal. He is ethereal.

“I like being able to look at you,” you started.

“And find me staring back?,” he asked. Sappy. Classic Chan. He knew you’d cringe.

Your hands rested at his jawline, pulling his face towards yours to connect again. He hummed lightly against you, informing you of his pleasure.

Oh, God, Christopher Bang was a kisser. Loved it. It’s the perfect appetiser to tease. It’s communication of the mouths without words. The way the nibbles and slight tugs create an incrementum of need and desire. He couldn’t get enough.

He breaks the kiss with a slight groan, verging on a moan, and looks at you intently. His eyes didn’t once leave you, pupils bore wide. He lingered his view on your eyes, then your lips, and reconnected with more fever.

His hands lay lazily around the small of your back, fingers moving down to trace the hem of your shirt, before you could feel the cold of his flesh trialing up your spine. Your hand gripped his blindfold tightly.

You couldn’t be entirely sure, but you happily estimated that Chan’s hands had probably explored every part of you at this point. He’s so soft with the touch, but also harsh enough to feel every slight dip and mark in your skin that makes you you, makes you his.

“You’re amazing,” he kissed against your neck, hands lazily stroking up to your shoulder blades.

The way he could touch you with so much ease and yet set your whole core on fire was something completely unheard of. Nobody had ever made you feel this way. And his reverie consisted of the same content - you, how you could make him feel so incredibly good just as you grind yourself on him.

He needed you. Now.

“I’m trying to be patient with you,” he breathed cool air onto the shell of your ear, voice a low grumble that it was perhaps almost inaudible, “But you’re making this so difficult, y/n. Do you know what you do to me?”

It was your turn to tease. Your crotch loosened from his, hand palming with lackadaisical fever, “How bad do you want this...,” you gripped him with more strength through the fabric of his trousers, “Inside me? You don’t need to be patient. Don’t wait,” you planted a chaste kiss to his jaw, the sound of him mewling softly and rubbing for any friction almost being enough to make you want to push him away, slam the bedroom door and delve your hands far deep into yourself thinking nothing but the thoughts of him. Chan.

“Don’t start,” he smirked, white glow of his teeth on show.

His hands instinctively grabbed at the hem of your shirt, this time lifting it up from your body. He didn’t give you any moment to breath before his lips were on yours again, soft nibbles and sucks as though he was desperate to taste you.

His hands held harshly onto your waist, lowering down to your thighs and he tapped - an indication to jump. And he caught you, your feet crossing over to give you some sort of firmness.

Hands gripping your exterior, he carried you, back pressing to the bedroom door to open it.

Your hand stay wrapped in his hair as he placed your back against the crisp, white sheets. Your bodies stay connected, Chan grinding on you with pure wanton intention, eyes hanging low and hooded and it was so clear that all that was on his mind was you. You. You.

He lifted himself from you for a moment, leaving your legs loosely propping themselves up like a V sign. Chan slowly popped each button of his shirt, and was even slower in taking it off.

“Tease,”

The comment made a huff of breath - a light laugh, escape him, and he removed the rest quickly in order to please.

Discarding the shirt beside you, Chan grabbed your now empty hands, lightly stroking your fingers down his abdomen. Each interstice between his abs felt harsh, defined, hard. Chan’s body was something that so many people desired - longed for, even. And here it was, for you, in front of you, only you and nobody else. Only you see the way it contracts and releases and the way that it tenses when his senses are released tenfold.

“Take these off,” he tapped your thighs, still akimbo between him, and he unbuckled the belt that stay to his waist.

He removed his belt, and his jeans. From where you lay, you could already see that he was hard.

You grabbed at your pants, pulling them with your lingerie in one quick motion that left you bare and allowed the heat of the room to reach you.

“Chan,” you half-whispered his name as his face lowered between your legs, handing coming to grab his hair before your brain could register the movement.

He hesitated.

“Can I?”

Of course, you wanted to scream, a million times over. Make me feel good.

“Please,” you sounded too desperate for your own liking, but the feeling ceased once he hummed and his hot breath could be felt inches away.

He hung over, so close, yet so far, eyes closed and breaths deep as though he needed to tell himself to not get too caught up, to not make you feel too much at once.

“Oh,” your grip tightened in his brown locks once his tongue finally touched you.

Warm, soft, and with a fast pace, Chan ravished you as though he was starving. His hands came to your hips, and he aided himself by grinding your crotch against his mouth. He made no effort to be clean, the sounds of his lips against your hot flesh being the only audible sound in the room. That, and your moans of course. It was so salacious.

He sucked on your clit feverishly, and your breathing became staggered, a mix of pants and, “Mmm fuck, there, wow,” when he hit the spot that made your head fall back between your shoulder blades as you held yourself on your elbows, that egged Chan on as much as he needed.

His tongue slowed to lap around lazily, one hand releasing from your hips to push his fingers inside. He was growing impatient, evident by his use of two immediately. In his defence, you were wet enough - very.

The feeling of finally being full with something made your breath choke in your throat.

“That good, huh?,” he curled upwards, a come-hither motion that hit the spot he aimed for with ease.

Your body shook involuntarily as the aggression in his movements increased. His pupils were abnormally large, his iris’ taking in the erotic sight before him as your legs shook and breasts bounced.

The veins in his wrists became especially prominent, and you could hear him moan in response to his view.

“I want you to cum. Play with your tits,”

He knew your weaknesses, inside and out, and could play to his advantage. One of your most sensitive zones, he knew always to give your breasts attention. And as a bonus, he knew you couldn’t disobey the deep rumble of his voice when arousal clouded over him.

Shyly, your hands stroked over the erect buds. Tingles cascaded around the area, a small shiver shooting down your spine that made your back arch. The combination of playing with your nipples alongside Chan’s - now three - fingers jolting inside you was explosive. You couldn’t hold the moans and pants.

“Fuck- Chan, I-,”

He leaned over slightly, not decreasing in pace, with his body hanging over yours, “Say it,”

“It feels good, so good,”

“Cum for me, then,” he smirked, his wrist obviously growing tired but his need to please you masked this. The muscles in his arms continued to flex.

With his order, you came. Your body lurched, jolting and contracting in small increments. Mouth held agape, breathless moan escaping as his long fingers fucked you until you had to grab him harshly and pull him out of you before the overstimulation became too much.

Brain hazy from your orgasm, you could only just make out that he had removed his underwear, cock on show.

“You alright? You rea-,”

“Put it in,” you interrupted him, mind so foggy with the thought of him fucking you senseless that the quivering in your cunt felt like nothing at this point.

He sucked his fingers, wet from your orgasm, and remained an eye contact that veered on intimidating. Those innocent brown eyes fixated on you as he sucked his fingers clean of your cum.

He wrapped his soaked fingers around his base, stroking himself candidly, eyes never once leaving you, soaking you in, taking in the parts of you he knew all too well and simply couldn’t ever get tired of.

One hand came to press in the bed sheets beside your head, other being used to line himself up. His hair was already a rough mess from your harsh gripping.

He pushed the head in slowly, mouth opening silently and his eyes closed in pleasure.

“You’re fucking wet,” he stated, an exasperated breath released from his throat, “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

Chan pushed himself all the way in, slowly, slowly, like he thought he’d hurt you if he was any faster. All he a wanted to do was thrust and thrust and be as rough as he fucking wanted with you - he’s impatient, can’t you tell?

Your breath hitched, hands coming to claw at his rib cage, his arms now either side of your head as his face hung between them.

He broke eye contact to look at where you were connected, his hips thrusting forward and backward with a simple rhythm. He’s warming up.

“Chan...,” you whined at him, your own impatience growing, probably even faster than Chan’s at this rate. Even if you’d just cum, you couldn’t ever get enough of him. Christopher Bang is a hell of a drug.

At the sound of his name, his hips plunged frenetically, earning strangled moans from you as you tried to familiarise yourself with the sudden feeling.

Chan could feel the growing pain of your nails clawing at his back, scratching, dragging gown, and the pulsating feeling of your pussy around his cock, hot and begging.

“Ohhh,” his hand came around your throat, lifting your chin back, “You take me so well, everytime,”

“Mmm,” you responded, lips tightly shut between one another because you’re being so loud, and he knows it too, but he loves the fucking sound of you undone beneath him.

He lifted his hands to rest on your knees as he continued to fuck you in missionary, his tense abdomen flexing. He was so fucking hot - he is so fucking hot.

Your hands instinctively came to your breasts once more, your erect nipples stimulated without even having to touch them. You winced as the pleasure veered on painful, face screwed.

“Chan, Chan,” you moaned out.

“Turn over,”

You obliged. Face down, ass up. Hands in the sheets, cheek pressed against the soft bedding on one side. And then you felt him. Hands on your waist, cock slipping inside with ease as he filled you yet again.

He moved with vigour, his own moans growing louder with your name rolling off the tip of his tongue.

“Mmm, oh fuck,” the saliva in your mouth leaked onto the sheets as your body ricocheted against his groin, the noises of lewd, wet skin echoing in the walls, his growls and grunts animalistic, Chan’s primitive nature finally being revealed as he ravished you like some sort of animal.

“Go-, nghh, fuck, Cha-,” your words were halted as he gripped your hair, head being pulled to rest back on his pectoral.

“I fucking love it when you’re loud,” he growled into your ear, “But you need to be quiet.”

Your eyes, stinging with tears, widened once your mouth was filled with something. Fabric.

His shirt.

You moaned against it, the sound coming out like an agonising groan.

His hand held under your chin as it had done earlier, and your hands came to grab his wrist to keep yourself upright.

At this point, you were incoherent and so close again that the hot bubbling in your core was the only thing that made you aware that you were conscious.

Chan’s hips were frantic, his body glistened with a light coating of sweat, his hot breath repeatedly landing on the same spot on your body.

He was close.

You were close.

“Aghh,” your eyes rolled back, breathing heavy and audible.

“Close?,”

You nodded with as much effort as you could possibly put in at your current state.

He didn’t respond, just slowed his pace until he rocked languidly, his hand from under your chin releasing allowing you to return to your position with your face in the sheets.

The fabric in your mouth was further dampened as you released wanton moans, core blazing and spreading the flames around your body as you shook with another orgasm.

Chan wasn’t much further behind you, hips snapping one last time before he held himself right up to the base, whispers of your name releasing into the four walls of the penthouse bedroom.

He collapsed onto his side, pulling out, leaving dribbles of his cum on the sheets and leaking out of you.

“Hey,” he moved the sweat-drenched hair from your eyes and pulled the soaked blindfold from your mouth. You swallowed harshly.

“Odds on the people next door hearing?,” he sighed, staring at you.

He laughed, humming softly when you didn’t respond.

“Chan,” your voice was quiet, and he knew you were tired.

“I’m kidding, let me run you a bath. You stay here, okay?” he kissed your forehead. Once, twice, three times, and giddily ran to the bathroom.

You smiled to yourself.

Stay here? Even though you’re tired from sex, even though Chan didn’t mean it that deeply, of course, you wanted to scream, a million times over. When would I ever leave you?

When would I ever leave you, Chan?

#channie #currently going wild at 4 am over this fic #its so good cries

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