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moonjxsung · 17 days ago

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Kinktober Day 24: Touch Deprived

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Bang Chan x reader

•

“What time does your flight land tomorrow?” Your voice echoes loudly through the receiver, pacing around the room with your phone pressed to your ear.

“Pretty late,” Chan replies with a click of his tongue. “Past midnight, I think. I’ll just get a ride from the airport back to the apartment.”

You let out a heavy sigh, stopping at the foot of your bed, before hoisting yourself onto the mattress and staring blankly at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” Chan says. “I thought I’d be home for dinner, too. I promise I’ll take you out this weekend.”

“It’s not that,” you respond, shutting your eyes momentarily. “I just miss you. I wish you were here in bed with me. I don’t care if we spend the whole weekend indoors.”

Chan lets out a breathy chuckle at your words, running a hand through his damp hair and sprawling his legs out in front of him. The warm cotton of a hotel bathrobe drapes over his sculpted torso, and he toys with the wraparound string before speaking again.

“You really miss me, huh?”

“Of course I miss you. It’s been months since I’ve seen you. Even longer since I’ve kissed you.”

“Or touched you,” Chan practically interrupts, earning a silent pause from you. He smirks when the phone call grows quiet, and then he leans further back against his stack of pillows.

“I guess it’s been a while,” you say shyly, feeling your cheeks grow red at the utterance of his words.

“Don’t get all shy on me,” Chan retorts. “I know why you’re calling. You’re kinda bad at making it less obvious, you know.”

“My vibrator broke,” you blurt out, and Chan’s lips pull into a knowing smile. “I haven’t been able to get off without you even once. You don’t even have time to send me videos anymore. I mean, can you blame me?”

“I can’t,” he replies. “I haven’t really had time to, either. It’s not the same without you.”

You both sigh in frustration at each other's words, and a feeling of guilt suddenly overtakes you, to be calling Chan in such a needy state when he hardly even has time for himself these days. Between a packed schedule, nonstop flights and running on a few minutes of sleep, it’s no surprise he hasn’t rubbed one out in a little while- except he’s not calling you to complain about it.

“Sorry,” you say to Chan, shaking your head in disappointment. “I don’t mean to be complaining to you about this. Your schedule’s busy enough as it is, and I’m long overdue for a new toy anyway-”

“Who said I wasn’t into it?” Chan interjects, a hint of teasing in his voice. The call grows quiet again, and you can make out the faint sounds of shuffling on his end.

“Chan, are you…” you begin to say, and he merely hums in response.

“I have fifteen minutes before I have to get dressed,” Chan explains, his voice lowering to just above a whisper. “You want me to talk you through it?”

A shiver runs down your spine at the suggestion, and Chan chuckles when he hears you shuffle about, too, stripping off your nightgown to just your underwear.

“Keep going,” you muse, a small smile tugging on your face as you lower your hand to the waistband of your panties.

“Get undressed for me, yeah? Spread your legs exactly the way I do it for you.”

You eagerly obey his instructions, parting your legs and pulling down your underwear so that you’re bare to the cold breeze that grazes your wetness.

“One hand,” Chan then instructs. “Touch yourself.”

You do as you’re told, snaking your left hand down to your dripping cunt to lightly circle your folds. You arch at the contact, chasing the friction supplied by the pads of your fingers, but then as though he can see you, Chan chimes in once more.

“Slowly,” Chan commands. “Rub your clit for me.”

You don’t have to respond in order to follow through with his actions, allowing your hand to graze over your entrance briefly to gather your own arousal on the tips of your index and middle fingers. You circle up to your clit, rubbing in agonizingly slow circles like he’d ordered you to, and a soft moan emits from the back of your throat when Chan groans at your shuffling.

“Fuck, baby,” Chan voices. “I don’t have much time. You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

“Stroke yourself,” you say to him in a pleading tone. “Finish with me.”

Chan pauses briefly, and then he glances down at his erect cock, noticeably pitching a tent under the thin fabric of his bathrobe. He peels it open to bare himself, too, and then he grips the base of his cock while you continue to work yourself.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” he asks in a low voice. “I want to hear everything.”

“You,” you say to him, your fingers moving a little faster now. “The way you work me with your fingers when I’m all wet for you. Or your tongue.”

“Fuck,” he interjects, his hand beginning to stroke himself almost involuntarily. He shuts his eyes as he does, imagining the same thing as you- his face buried against your mound, tongue flicking in and out of your entrance as you squirm beneath his touch. He’ll usually struggle to keep your legs parted for him, allowing them to clasp around his face as he devours you. And then when you’re trembling in anticipation for some release, he’ll pull away once more, to properly fuck you, slipping inside of you with complete ease while you beg for more.

“God, I wanna taste you so bad,” Chan whimpers. “Bet you taste so sweet for me. You want me to tongue-fuck you, yeah? Is that what you want?”

“Yeah,” you groan, spreading your juices around your folds and separating your two fingers, a sticky string or your arousal connecting the two still. A light sloshing sound emits from around Chan’s thick girth as he moves even faster, his hips bucking up into his fist as he imagines you.

In your shared apartment, on your side of the bed, your legs spread for him and your hand sprawled out over your throbbing sex. He imagines the way your eyebrows must arch up in pleasure, and the way your thighs must squeeze to chase the delicious friction of your own flesh, wishing so badly that it was his cock instead. And then he throws his head back as he feels his cock twitch once, heavy pants escaping his lips as he groans again.

“Fuck yourself for me,” Chan orders. “Slip your fingers in and go rough.”

You do as told, finally dipping into your entrance and allowing your tight cunt to enwreathe fingers as you pump in and out in a rhythmic manner. You’re dripping wet now, desperate to cum for Chan, or with him, as wet sounds fill the room in tandem with your soft moans.

“You miss me?” Chan asks in a breathy voice. “Say it. Tell me how badly you wish it was me.”

“I miss you, baby,” you tell him. “Just wish you were here to fuck me and make up for all this lost time.”

“You gonna cum for me?” He asks, grunting with his fast-paced strokes now.

“Yeah,” you breathe back, your fingers dipping in and out of your wetness and filling you entirely.

“Do it,” he orders. “Cum for me. Let me hear you.”

You can feel your whole body contract when you finally reach your orgasm, your body arching up into your own hand as you tremble, a generous trickle of release finding purchase on your sheets. Chan groans when he hears you gasp for air, the call sounding muffled when you struggle to grasp it against your ear. And when he hears your pleasured gasps echo against his ear, he shuts his eyes again, his hand traveling up toward his tip as he fucks himself in rapid motions. It’s just seconds after that he reaches his own orgasm, shooting ropes of cum onto his fresh white bathrobe, and sitting up a little straighter to balance his phone in his grip.

“Fuck,” Chan remarks, chuckling lightly when he observed the mess he’s made of his bathrobe. “I really fucking miss you.”

“I miss you,” you say to him, a satisfied smile on your face.

You pause for a moment, still catching your breath, and then you let out a blissful sigh.

“Thank you,” you say to him. “I think I can wait it out another day.”

He chuckles again, hoisting himself off of his bed and sauntering toward the bathroom.

“Of course, baby. Hey, I have to get ready, but I’ll call you as soon as I can, yeah?”

You nod, a heavy tiredness overtaking your languid body, and then you simply hum in response, rolling onto your side.

Chan smiles, peeling off his bathrobe, as he hears your chest rise and fall with every exhausted breath.

“I love you,” he says, smiling, his phone pressed to his ear still. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And I promise we’ll make up for all the lost time.”

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moonjxsung · 14 days ago

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Kinktober Day 27: Studio Sex

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Bang Chan x reader

•

“Try it again, from the top this time.”

Chan lets out a heavy sigh, adjusting the black headphones he wears over his ears, as he listens for the beat. It chimes in the same way it has for the past hour you’ve been here, the downbeat of a drum echoing almost too loudly. The metronome starts up at the same time, clicking repeatedly like the second hands on the clock do. He glances at the time before he begins- this session was supposed to be over nearly 45 minutes ago. And then he sings into the microphone to the catchy tune, repeating the lyrics he knows by heart now, despite only having the sheet music for less than a day.

“Cut,” you say to him, chewing on the cap of your plastic ballpoint pen. “There’s something missing.”

“Well I’m not doing it again,” Chan huffs, cupping his hands around the headphones and removing them. He balances them on the music stand, pivoting around to gather his belongings, before exiting the recording booth once more.

“It sounds incomplete,” you voice. “We need something on the downbeat.”

“Not for the second chorus,” he replies frustratedly. “I told you a million times, that’s only for the first one.”

“But every time you pause, it sounds strange.”

“Then let it sound strange,” Chan finishes. A silence overtakes the room when he finishes speaking, his head hanging in shame you avert his gaze. He parts his lips to say something, before shaking his head, hoping you’ll break the silence first.

“You know,” you say to him quietly. “Of all the people I work with, you’re by far the most stubborn.”

“Yeah?” He scoffs, an irate expression in his tone. “Maybe we just have creative differences, then. I can’t say I’ve ever worked with someone as demanding as you.”

“Then find somebody else,” you reply, standing up from your swivel chair. “I’m done here.”

“Good.”

“Great!” You exclaim, gathering a stack of papers. “Good luck trying to find someone else with this late notice.”

Chan thinks it over momentarily, stopping to glance over his shoulder in your direction. He thinks of the song, and all the verses that remain unfinished, and about how he’ll be tasked with arranging the entirety of it in your absence. Which he could do- if he wasn’t already drowning in choreography lessons and meetings for the remainder of the month.

“Fine,” Chan says finally. “We can try it a different way. He cocks his head in the direction of the studio, gesturing to the door.

“Alright,” Chan voices plainly. “I’ll meet you in there.”

He’s the first to enter the recording booth again, slinging his bag off his shoulder and crossing his arms in front of the music stand that still houses a stack of sheet music. You trail in after him reluctantly, shutting the door behind you and doing your best to avert his gaze, before he begins to speak.

“Tell me what you suggest,” he says, shrugging in the direction of the stand. “And we can try that.”

“You need vocals on the downbeat,” you reply, pulling a ballpoint pen out from behind your ear and making a mark on the paper. “Something to lead into the chorus.”

Chan cocks his head as if in deep thought, and then he nods, thinking over your words briefly.

“I’ll get someone with a deeper voice to add something,” he says finally. “So that at least it’s different from my verse in the first chorus.”

He scribbles something out on the sheet music, making a note to add an alternate set of vocals where you’d suggested. And then he caps the ballpoint pen once more, before turning to you again.

“Anything else you want to suggest?” Chan queries, thumbing over the pen cap. His chest rises and falls with every annoyed breath he takes, trying his best not to make some snarky quip at you for keeping him so long.

“That’s it,” you say simply. “You’re free to go. I’m gonna stay here and get some work done.”

Chan observes as you assume a spot on one of the stools, peeling off your hoodie and slinging it over the music stand. You remain in just a thin white tank top, shuffling through your bag for your laptop, as he stays standing behind you.

“You’re… gonna stay here?” Chan asks, swallowing a lump in his throat. He can’t seem to avert his gaze from your top, his eyes scanning your chest, as you balance in the crook of your elbow.

“Yeah,” you reply, giving him a confused look. “I always stay after hours.”

“I could bring you dinner,” he blurts out suddenly, earning another confused look from you.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When he doesn’t reply, you look up to catch him staring at you a little too intently. His expression softens when he pulls up a stool next to you, letting out an exasperated sigh, before speaking.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Chan voices. “I know we have our creative differences. But I don’t mean to come off as such a jerk.”

“Yeah, well, you do. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Your gaze finally meets his, well aware of how close he’s sitting to you now. His gaze flickers from your eyes, down to your lips, and back up again, swallowing nervously as he looks for the words to say.

“Let me make it up to you,” Chan says in a voice just above a whisper. He doesn’t wait for a response this time, simply leaning in to gauge your reaction. And when you don’t back away from him, leaning in as though he might indulge you in a secret, or some heartfelt apology.

“How, exactly?” You ask, a hint of teasing in your tone. And you’re not sure what exactly you’re expecting- but it’s certainly a surprise when he leans in to press his lips against yours, indulging you in a sweet, yet desperate kiss, before pulling away once more.

“What was that?” You say instinctively, not taking your gaze off his.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry-”

“Do it again,” you interject, and Chan’s lips pull into a smirk when he leans in again to kiss you a second time, this time much rougher than the first. His hands snake down to your waist, pulling you closer to him, and then you pull away breathlessly, as Chan’s brows furrow in confusion.

“What is it?” He asks, trying to steady his ragged breathing.

“I don’t know. It’s just…what if somebody sees us?”

Realistically, you know nobody is typically around the studio after hours like this- except for you, and sometimes Chan. But he stands up anyway, making his way to the studio door and peering out the glass window.

“The door’s locked,” Chan says, nodding in the direction of the door across the room. He reaches out to lock the door to the recording booth, too. And then he turns to look at you again when you make your way over to stand beside him.

Chan doesn’t say anything when you lean back against the glass window, folding your arms behind your back while you wait for him to make another move. And then he presses a hand to the glass above your standing figure, leaning down to graze his lips over yours.

“See?” Chan questions in a voice just above a whisper. “Nobody’s around.”

And then he kisses you, his muscular stature towering over yours as you wrap two arms around him and pull him even closer to you. The thought crosses your mind briefly, that this is the last thing you would’ve expected from the evening, having started off on the wrong foot since his arrival today. But you’re not mad about the way he snakes his arms down to caress the small of your back. And you especially can’t protest when his hands find their way to your thighs, where he hoists you up into his arms with ease, your legs wrapping around his lower back as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

He ruts against you as his kisses turn rougher, the clear erection he sports beneath his sweatpants grazing your upper thighs with every slight movement. As he kisses you, he nibbles down the convex of your throat, leaving a generous trail of bruises as his heavy breaths swirl against your flesh. His labored breathing implies every desire to take you right here in the studio, and when his fingers trail along the waistband of his gray sweatpants, your heartbeat quickens in anticipation.

“Is this okay?” He asks, tugging his pants down to free his erection. His bulge pitches eagerly against his boxers as he awaits a reply, one hand trailing gently along the waistband of your shorts.

“Yes,” you breathe back, using one hand to skillfully unbutton your shorts and tug them down. He assists you in the process, letting them pool around your ankles, before looping one finger in the waistband of your panties to tug those down, too.

Once undressed, Chan frees his cock from his boxers, and you glance down briefly, your eyes widening at the sight. He’s much bigger than you’d anticipated, a bead of precum formed at his tip, as he wraps one hand around his base to stroke himself. His lips reattach to yours, stifled gasps making their way into your parted lips, as he guides himself against your entrance to position himself.

He doesn’t guide his cock inside just yet- instead, he rubs his moistened flesh along your aching clit in gentle back and forth motions, earning a fervent moan from you, as you wrap your legs tighter around him. He seems to hold his breath when he spreads your legs a little wider for him, and then he lets out a heavy groan when he finally pushes himself into you, slipping in with ease until he’s entirely bottomed out inside of you.

Your legs tremble when you feel the rhythmic pulse of his cock grazing your flesh, his lips pressing against yours desperately to stifle your almost pained gasps. And when your gasps quickly transition to moans, he begins to move finally, the pads of his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, as he thrusts into you with passionate movements.

“You like that?” Chan questions, earning an affirmative nod from you, whose lips part in overwhelming pleasure. Your nails dig into his back over his thin white t-shirt, and you can feel his broad back muscles tense beneath his shirt as he works himself in and out of you.

For a moment, all that fills the room are the sounds of his heavy grunts as he fucks you, and the fluid sounds of your tongues swirling against each other, a string of drool connecting to your lips when he pulls away momentarily. His fingers dip into your flesh deeper as he hoists you a little higher into his arms, the erotic sight of his protruding arm veins sending a chill down your spine when you take note of how effortlessly he carries you in his strong grasp.

An ebony strand of hair falls into his face, moistened by the beads of sweat that accumulate along his chiseled features, and you reach up to tuck it out of the way, placing a gentle kiss along his jawline.

“Is it okay if I admit I’ve been picturing you like this for the past hour?” Chan questions through labored breaths, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. His thrusts slow a little as he speaks, and you smile in response, kissing him softly before speaking.

“It’s only okay because I’ve been fantasizing about it, too.”

“Yeah?” Chan questions, wincing slightly when he feels his cock twitch inside of you. “What do you say we give this another try?”

You chuckle softly again, your walls contracting around his cock as he speaks, earning another groan from him.

“Give what a try?”

“Us,” Chan clarifies, nearing your parted lips to graze them gently with his own. “This. Let me take you out to dinner.”

“Why should I say yes?” You tease, and Chan practically interrupts you, a whimper escaping his lips.

“Because I’m about to finish inside of you,” he says, maintaining a serious expression on his face, as his thrusts pick up speed again.

You don’t reply this time, your eyebrows arched up in pleasure as he continues to fuck you, a loud squelching noise filling the studio space around you. It’s a lewd contrast to the repetitive tune that’s filled it for the past hour, and your nails dig into the shirt on his back when he grazes your cervix with every harsh thrust now, a string of cusses escaping his lips.

“Fuck,” he chants, his hands gripping the curves of your ass. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you so fucking good.”

You try to respond, practically unable to, as his lips find yours between his groans. And then he throws his head back in a blissful state of pleasure, his moans turning to whimpers as he fucks you through his orgasm, his hot load filling you and trickling down onto your upper thighs. The warmth of his cum triggers your own release, as your walls caress his girth, a series of pornographic moans filling the space when he begins to slow his thrusts.

It’s still several minutes before Chan finally pulls out of you again, as you both attempt to catch your breath, covered in a sheen layer of sweat and panting heavily. When he’s effectively pulled out again, he loosens his grasp of you, allowing you to find your balance on the carpeted floor, as you fish around for your clothes.

It’s silent as he dresses himself, pulling on his now stained sweatpants and adjusting the waistband of his cum-stained boxers. And then he chuckles lightly, before speaking again.

“So what do you say?” Chan asks, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“About what?”

“About this,” he clarifies again. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

You begin to say something, but then you don’t, simply dressing yourself fully and reaching for your bag again. Chan’s heartbeat quickens in his chest when he comes to the realization that you appear to be exiting the studio, turning around to face him again, a small smile on your face.

“You know,” you say to him, rolling your eyes sarcastically. “If there’s one thing I’m happy you’re stubborn about, it’s this.”

His lips pull into a satisfied smile, fidgeting with the string on his sweatpants, as he ponders a response.

“Get your song done,” you tell him, gesturing to the sheet music on the stand still. “And I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.”

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