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bigkill · 5 years

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One Night | Chanyeol x reader smut

Summary: Chanyeol being an idol and your boyfriend was stressful. So when the man starts coming home late at night, angrily throwing things around and confronting you, things become hectic.

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I'm writing this in class and I'm bored so don't @ me also I think we need more angst smuts out there because personally I get turned on when my s/o becomes aggressive I swear its not weird.

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You stared anxiously at the clock waiting for your boyfriend of three years to come home, your bed growing colder and colder as you chewed your thumbnail. This wasn't normal for him. He always got home immediately after practice and if not, he would call you to make sure you didn't wait up for him, (which you always did, anyway), unless he was on tour; which he very well wasn't because you knew his schedule. It was getting later and later, almost midnight, and still no sign that he was coming home, no phone call, nothing. The thought of anything bad happening to him was starting to scare you.

Just when the clock was about to strike 12, you heard keys jingling as the front door creaked open, and then to your bewilderment, slammed shut loud enough to scare the dogs in the apartment next door. The man groaned loudly at the barking, threw his keys in the glass bowl before the corridor, and began rummaging through the kitchen cabinets for something.

You had tried so hard to be quiet. For some reason, luck wasn't on your side, for when you took one step out into the living area, the floorboard had creaked, and his movements had stopped.

Chanyeol didn't mind it, though. He didn't even turn back to face you, simply continued looking through the cabinets, tossing the components to the floor without a care for the person who organized them weekly (that was you). "Fuck!" He barked, throwing an empty pill bottle across the room after he'd emptied everything out onto the floor, and then proceeded to kick things out of his way. He stalked over towards his book bag, all bunched up with things, and then emptied said things out onto the floor.

"Babe," you chirped, walking closer towards the man who resembled a crazy person right now, "what are you looking for?" You kneeled down beside him, about to reach a hand out to his shoulder to console him, but he only smacked your hands away without answering.

Now you were annoyed, crossing you arms over your chest sternly. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

The man groaned, throwing his bag across the room and breaking an ugly vase you didn't really care about. You stared at it boredly as it was knocked from the table stand and shattered against the floor. He stood up abruptly, still having yet to respond, and then muttered a slew of curses when he attempted to clean his mess and ended up cutting himself.

Sighing, you never knew what to do when he'd gotten so angry he didn't know what to do with himself. The man was very happy, yes, but the passion could also be flipped into a negative emotion if someone or something had been so inclined to make him that way. It was frustrating, sure, but you had gotten use to this behavior, and the usual aftermath that was having to clean up after him, replacing the things he had broken, and then accepting the apology flowers he bought you the next day to compliment the new vase.

You always bought vases you didn't like.

"Where is it?" Now his attention was directed towards you, his eyes bulging from his skull, implying his next phrase was to be an accusation. "Y/n, where is it?"

"Where's what?!" You tutted your arms up, motioning the offhand materialization of whatever it was he wanted.

Chanyeol groaned again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The fucking painkillers, babe! Where the fuck are they? I have a fucking headache and I can't find one goddamn pill in this apartment—," he kicked over the vase stand, causing you to raise your eyebrows.

"We have Advil in the bathroom—where its always been." Shakingly, you pointed towards the bathroom beside your bedroom, but knew this was more than just a silly headache. Chanyeol never got physical over a headache, in fact, he had become soft and mushy when he had those.

What was happening was way more than a stupid headache.

"No, I need something stronger." The man was on the verge of tears and you couldn't understand why. Never had he directed his anger towards you, and you usually just let him ride it out until morning because aside from throwing a temper tantrum like a five year old, he had no clue what to do with his anger. "Fuck, babe. Can you just fucking get them?" He croaked, his frustration turning into a red face as he sunk to the floor.

Rolling your eyes, you got the Advil from the cabinet and a glass of water, kneeled in front of him as if he were a child that needed guidance, holding both items out to his face. He rubbed his eyes, scooping up the pills from your hand with his lips and drinking the water that you had brought him, his heart thumping in his ears.

You rolled your eyes again and stood up to get ready for bed, but this action only seemed to annoy him further.

"You're not gonna ask what happened? I'm kind of in distress, here." His long leg stretched out, kicking over the organized items from the coffee table. Said items being the paper work that took you days to organize for your clients, scattering around and about your living area like gigantic confetti. For some reason, you felt your blood bubble up in the form of seeing red, your own anger internalizing as you remembered the nights of sleep you missed getting everything down before you had to go back to work. You had called the banks, closed deals over the phone which was especially difficult, talked some of your clients out of whatever stupid decision they were about to publicly make, and managed the social media accounts of upcoming artists.

Suddenly, a laugh bubbled out into the air from the pit of your stomach, your legs carrying you towards the dish rack filled with nothing but wet glass plates. And you snapped. Your body had flickered towards him as fast as the glass left your fingers, the item smashing against the wall he was leaned against and causing the man to bolt up from his seat.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Chanyeol clamored, his large frame closing the space between you, but you didn't care. You threw another plate at his feet, not meaning to hurt him, but meaning to destroy things the same way he did.

"Me?!" You yelled with a condescending chortle slipping passed your plump lips, "oh, so now you see how crazy you act! Here!" And another plate went flying across the room, forcing him to back away from you if he didn't want to get cut again. "Do you know the week I had sorting shit out for ingrate idols determined to fuck up the careers they wouldn't have if I didn't exist?! Do you know the phone calls I had to make—despite being on my paid time off after a mental break down at the office—to make sure nobody fucked anything up while I was gone?! Those fucking papers, Yeol. Those were everything I did! I'm so sorry that your pretty leg hurts after hours of practice!"

Chanyeol scoffed, his own laugh bubbling out into the world, throwing his sweater off because of how stuffy it was becoming in your apartment. "Oh, so you automatically assume that that's what happened?! That I hurt myself during practice?!" He laughed again growing closer towards you, "no, my asshole manager just told me that the album we worked really hard on for months—the concept, choreography, lyrics—was quote on quote, 'too real' for the crowd that we have! Because we sing for twelve year old princesses who can't understand that fairy tales aren't life! They take my artistry for a joke, and my own girlfriend can't even see that."

"What are you even talking about?!" Your voice was only elevating the more he continued to speak. "I support you, I just don't like when you come home like this and do this," you motioned around you, bringing to his attention what a mess he had created, "and you think its okay that you act like a child, but its not because you're a fucking adult and I'm not your mother! I can't do everything!"

Having heard enough, he slammed his fist into the wall that had suffered the most, creating a new hole you would have to plaster some time in the near future. The idea of it made you rub your temples before you encouraged such behavior further by beating the shit out of him.

"I swear, you're so fucking immature! Whose going to fix that and then find the right paint shade? Me! That's who the fuck!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, already! You're not the only one who works hard!" He spat.

You laughed, however pissed off you were, "you do realize that neither are you!"

Chanyeol suddenly spun to face you, his frame towering over you with each step he took, a passion in his eyes you couldn't quite understand; a mix of lust and infuriation glinting in his eyes. The atmosphere had grown steamy as his body completely trapped your's against the kitchen island, breaths mingling together as you breathed heavily, but the anger was still there. All these emotions had translated into lust for the man, his sexiness vibrating in the fact that his muscles had been showing since he tore his hoodie from his body. Damn him for being so attractive, maybe you could stay angry enough to deny what you knew was about to happen.

His lips roughly encapsulated your's, your arms instantly latching around his neck as he pulled your legs up around his torso, firmly gripping your ass. You always loved it when he'd present his strength during foreplay, letting you know just how little control you had for the moment, or exactly what you were in store for.

Chanyeol was always rough during sex, but he had managed to become extremely rough during times like this, when hate-fucking would commence to end whatever dispute had put a strain on your relationship. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest antic, unlike talking about it, but you weren't ones for talking, anyway, so it didn't matter.

He walked you over towards the dining table, his breath still heavy and hot against your neck as he brought one arm out to clear the items from the table and dropped you against it for a moment to pull away and remove his shirt. You did the same, hastily pulling off the article of clothing, but he beat you to removing your bra, or simply ripping it from your body like an animal. He was always so needy when he was upset, but it was hot as hell and you didn't like that bra, anyway. You let a moan slip, your juices already soaking up your underwear when he dipped back in for another aggressive, sloppy kiss, the sound of his unbuckling pants and heavy lip smacks of pleasure the only thing that could be heard. You trailed your soft fingers down his solid chest, passed his torso, and down to his throbbing manhood beneath his underwear, the touch eliciting a groan that vibrated against your lips and felt like heaven.

Continuing to palm him, feeling his bulge grow harder than a street pole, he forced his tongue into your mouth, not having time to ask permission, and feeling his dominance slip away whenever you took action against his body. You moaned, his hands playing around with your nipples, his hips thrusting against your's harshly, forcing the tables to turn to his own control against you. "Fuck," you mumbled in ecstasy, your head becoming so fuzzy with want, it was almost painful. Seriously painful, he'd sunk his teeth into your jaw and collarbone, and then harshly sucked at the soft skin around your neck, forcing a hiss to bubble in your chest. Not the kind of painful that would have stopped you—the kind of painful that excited you, that turned you into the lewd person you were beneath the professional face you wore outdoors and in front of other people.

Chanyeol was the only person who got to see you in this state. This state of enjoyment, with your head thrown back in pleasure, and your back arched at the feel of his tongue swirling around your hard nipple. Whimpering, your body squirmed, but no other words had bothered to leave your esophagus. Not like they could, his hand was secure around your throat, only enough to assert his power over you. "You talk such a big game when you're angry, baby girl. Where'd all that go?" A smirk had painted his lips, those lips that had stopped midway to tease you. He was always trying to challenge you and it was annoying.

Whimpering again, you tugged at the waistband of his underwear, throwing your head back simply because you didn't want to talk. You panted as his hand slowly slipped down your stomach, beneath the hem of your underwear, and then finally, inserted his two fingers in without uttering a word. Something had tried to force its way out—words—but you choked them back, moaned, and shook your head. "Please, Yeol," you begged, "Fuck me, already."

Chanyeol didn't waste time. He didn't bother with the fact that you were already soaking up the cloth for him, (even though not much had happened), or tell you that you were dirty for getting turned on by his aggression. He tore the soaked up cloth away from your womanhood with such haste, the damn things had split from the middle and hung loosely around your middrift. And as if a shitty warning, or lack thereof, couldn't get better, he clutched the ring of your waist with his nails scratching at the surface of your skin and slammed into you, forcing you to scream out his name, followed by a slew of curses and your body shuddering. "Fuck!"

He grunted loudly, his speed picking up as his jaw tightened, his own curses falling from the tip of his tongue. His body dipped down into yours, connecting his mouth to the rim of your jawline, biting and sucking at the skin that made your knees weak. Your legs around his waist had forced him in deeper, the feeling of his body against yours driving you mad. You needed more. You needed his hands to scratch at the skin of your back, to elicit any kind of pain to bring your body where it needed to be, and that's exactly what he did. His hand kept scratching up the side of your plump ass, then roughly kneading into your breasts, and your own nails had dug themselves into the skin of his back, drawing out a hiss from his soft lips and encouraging him to move harder.

"Chanyeol!" You moaned quite vocally, the neighbor's dogs barking again, but neither of you cared. Chanyeol had only be determined to release his energy, and to break your body in the only way he knew how to. He wanted to fuck you so senseless, you wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow and he'd have to stay home with you to continue what you two had started. He pulled out completely, all of suddenly, and just as abruptly had slammed his entire length into your core, hitting that special spot that had you throwing your head back against the table and moaning ever so passionately. "Fuck, babe! R—right there! Don't stop!"

"I wasn't planning on it." His gravel road voice spewed, his large hands forcing your hips down whenever your back curled up, the actions leaving bruises against your [color] skin. Chanyeol had slowed his pace, not relishing in the idea of coming before you, his own close end rearing when he'd still had yet to satisfy you, and had transferred to long, hard strokes that made your breath hitch in your throat. He latched his lips back to your's, keeping the energy alive by forcing his tongue back into your mouth for further exploring, winning his own game of dominance, and reaching down to rub your clit to accompany his rough strokes. When he felt he was good to go faster, he slammed his palms beside your head and reverted back to his previous pace.

There was a knock at the door, but the both of you ignored it, and instead, he shoved his fingers in your mouth.

"You're fucking loud, you know that?" The man grunted into your ear, feeling your teeth sink against his fingers as you suppressed the urge to whimper his name. Straightening his posture, he lifted your leg over his shoulder with his free hand and came down again to continue his mouth work, his manhood hitting that spot again. That spot that knocked the air from your lungs and sent you for a ride on cloud 9. The spot that made you inhale sharply despite his fingers, and curl your nails around his skin at the sensation coiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Mmf, oh my god," you mumbled against his hand, your eyes rolling back behind your head. "C-Chanyeol, I'm c-coming," the words had fallen from your mouth with the saliva build up around his fingers, the sight alone making his own pleasure an irresistible feat.

"Me, too, baby," chanyeol groaned into your neck, and then placed an unusually soft kiss against your cheek, letting you know that he, too, was coming to his end. "Go ahead, already. I wanna feel you." He whispered, his pace becoming sloppy when your walls caved around him from the release of pressure in your abdomen, the feeling had you shaking in your spot, drawing out a long, loud moan from your throat. Chanyeol had made his own grunts, pulling out shortly after you had come, and releasing his load onto the palm of your hand with a sharp inhale and exhale of a grunt.

"Fuck," he muttered, letting his body fall next to yours on the other side of the table, exhaustion beginning to consume him.

You could've sworn you were seeing stars with the way your body continued to shake, but you could feel his messy hair suddenly resting against your shoulder as your breaths fought to come to a slow. Neither of you spoke, especially not at times like this, when you'd both have to realize how toxic hate-sex could be. But by God, it was the only time he could truly get you off where one orgasm was all you needed.

"Is this healthy," he was hesitant, but continued after a few more pants. "I mean, are we healthy?"

Thinking for a moment, you shrugged your shoulders, truly having no concrete answer to the question he'd just asked you. "I don't know. I don't care," yeah, that's what you were going with, "I like it. I like how we are. Because its confusing, and its weird, and maybe others can't understand—but I think its sexy as hell. You're fucking hot when you're angry."

Chanyeol chuckled sheepishly, his cheeks tinting pink despite how confident he was just a minute ago. "Okay."

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