viranelle

. ₊˚ ☎︎₊˚✧

Your husband is a very busy man.

You’ve long been aware of this fact, and while you do not mind his perpetual need to be productive, and you acknowledge just how good he is at his job (no matter how strange said job seemed to you at first), the sheer amount of time he’s spending away from you, travelling to schools all across the country on a hectic, jam-packed schedule, is starting to get to you.

You keep in touch, of course, texting and calling every day, with Hwa-jin regularly sending you smirking, victorious selfies of his face, slightly smeared with blood or grime, or the occasional “i miss you, baby”, that never fails to send your heart pumping.

The thing is, however, that the longer you two are apart, the needier you get. This shouldn’t surprise you, given the fact that your body has gotten used to being an enthusiastic and regular participant in your marital relations, which have, as of late, completely ceased to exist. Nevertheless, the strength of your irritation when you wake up this morning to find the other side of the bed empty once again, almost knocks the wind out of you.

This lingering sensation of irritation at the world, born out of your pent-up sexual frustration, follows you even as you get up to tend to your morning routine, and sticks just beneath the surface of your skin as you leave your apartment to go to work.

Hwa-jin texts you throughout the day, retelling you the events of some intense bike chase in Daegu, and although at any other time you would have loved to carefully read about what he’s up to, remind him to take care of himself and rest when he can, this time every single notification with his name on it sends a startling pulse between your legs — it’s this strange Pavlov’s dog situation, where the name Hwa-jin has become equivalent in your mind to sexual relief, pleasure, sex, orgasms, moaning and—

God, you really need to pull yourself together. How are you this horny?

As you type on your computer, completing an overdue report that you’d been putting off for a while now, barely managing to fend off the memory of coming on your husband’s tongue three weeks ago, you briefly contemplate whether Hwa-jin is affected by this pause in your sex life as you are — sure, he’s been keeping busy, but his sexual appetite is even bigger than yours.

So you can’t be the only one suffering, right?

When you get home that day, your body still flushed and much too overheated, your eyes are unnervingly focused. Only one thing is on your mind — payback.

So, you open your closet, searching through countless silky nightgowns and lacy lingerie sets, all specially bought to entice your husband at some point or another, some of them even slightly torn due to his notorious impatience, but nothing seems to catch your attention. You sigh as you take a step back, gaze drifting from your closet to his.

It’s precisely then when your eyebrow raises in inspiration. You’re sure that if it were possible, a light bulb would be going off right at the top of your head.

Well, well. Aren’t you a genius?

Hurriedly, you open his closet, navigating through countless black blazers, shirts, jackets and trousers, to find your favourite article of clothing he has.

It’s nothing special, just a plain light gray shirt, one of the only ones in his possession that aren’t black — you’ve worn it before, in moments like these when you just miss him too much. It hugs your figure like a glove (honestly, some of your dresses don’t fit you so well!) and even though your husband hasn’t worn it in a while, it still carries the unmistakable scent of his cologne.

You undress and put it on in record time, rushing to grab your phone and jump in bed, so fuelled by your own mischief that you can almost ignore the want, still pulsing between your legs.

Almost.

You open the camera app unsurely. You’ve done a lot of things with your husband, but somehow, sending him tactful nudes has never been one of them.

There’s a first time for everything, you suppose.

It takes you more time than you expected. You experiment with the angles, the lighting, the positioning of your body, your state of undress. It’s certainly more work than you gave it credit for, but you can’t deny how incredibly sexy you feel, doing nothing else besides simply posing for the camera like you have all the time in the world.

By the end, you’ve taken close to a hundred pictures and it takes you an even longer time scrolling through and choosing a couple of the best ones.

You manage to single out a favourite: it’s a picture taken from above, in which you’re laying on your back, the shirt falling off your shoulder to expose the lacy black strap of your bra, the only visible part of your face — your lips — open in a breathy pout, with your naked legs slightly open and your left hand, the one not holding the phone, slipped between them. It’s obvious what you’re doing, but there’s no actual nudity shown, but in your humble opinion, that makes it even hotter.

Your hands slightly shake with anxiety as you send it to your husband, forcing yourself to act as fast you can before you back out from nerves. Drowning in a bravery-induced adrenaline rush, you also type:

I miss you so much, honey. When are you coming home?

You’re just starting to get up from the bed, intent on taking a very cold shower, when your phone vibrates. Then vibrates again. And again. And again.

You smirk and fall back down onto the soft mattress.

This is working out much faster than you thought.

You open your notifications.

My Hwa-jin 🤍: fuck

My Hwa-jin 🤍: is that my shirt

My Hwa-jin 🤍: baby

My Hwa-jin 🤍: don’t tempt me like this

My Hwa-jin 🤍: you look so beautiful

My Hwa-jin 🤍: my perfect little wife

My Hwa-jin 🤍: gonna ruin you when i get back

You giggle, another pulsing throb of desire shooting right through you.

can’t wait

I’m throbbing for you baby

My Hwa-jin 🤍: yeah?

My Hwa-jin 🤍: fuck I’m so hard right now

My Hwa-jin 🤍: been dreaming of you

My Hwa-jin 🤍: god

My Hwa-jin 🤍: need to fuck you soon or i’ll lose my mind

My Hwa-jin 🤍: such a tease

My Hwa-jin 🤍: in a meeting

My Hwa-jin 🤍: will call you as soon as it ends

Your smile widens in delight, and you decide to up the ante, sending him a video of you rubbing your clit through your panties, your wedding ring which Hwa-jin always loves to see, on full display as you moan his name. Previously, you shyly thought the video to be a little much, especially to send right out of the gate, but his reaction has set something in you on fire and now — there’s no going back.

be careful

turn your volume down

Although the video is only fifteen seconds long, it takes a few minutes to receive a reply. You giggle again as you watch Hwa-jin’s text bubble pop up and disappear, and you take a strange sort of pride in the fact that you’ve rendered him speechless.

Just when you think he won’t reply to you at all, your phone rings with an upcoming call from none other than him. Your heartbeat gets stuck in your throat.

You swallow nervously when you pick up, only to be greeted with total silence on the other end. You can feel your pulse climb upward towards your temples as a few painfully slow seconds pass by.

Suddenly, you hear your husband’s chuckle.

“What? You getting shy on me now, baby?”

His voice is hoarse and deep, coming from somewhere deep within his chest, and you squeeze your legs in anticipation.

You still don’t respond.

“Hm.” He huffs out a laugh. “You can’t be playing this game when you’re the one that’s got me like this. Fuck, you’ve never done this before.”

“Did…did you like it?” You finally find your voice, holding your breath to hear his response.

This really shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

“Did I like it?” You hear a faint groan and a thump, as if the back of Hwa-jin’s head has made contact with a wall. “I think I made myself clear on that matter, sweetheart. In fact, I liked it so much, I’ve locked myself in a storage closet, groping myself like a damn teenager.”

You let out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah? Well, it’s what you deserve for leaving me alone like this, honey. Consider it punishment. A woman has her needs, you know.”

“Oh, is that right? This is all my fault, then? I can’t tend to your needs?” He mocks you, practically cooing on the last word.

You both know it isn’t true, that he leaves you much more than satisfied, but you lay back in bed with the full intention of playing this game, getting comfortable, as you slowly reach one hand into your panties.

“It is your fault. I’m aching for you and it’s all your fault, Hwa-jin.”

You’re sure your husband can tell you’re touching yourself by your breathy voice, by the way it gets high-pitched at the end of every sentence. You can hear his shaky inhale, and his voice has somehow gotten even deeper when he replies.

“Then let me ease that ache, baby. I’ve been a bad husband, haven’t I? I’ve neglected my beautiful wife, left her all wet and wanting. Are you wet? I’m sure you are. I can hear it from all the way over here. Bet you’re clenching around nothing, so desperate to be filled. Gonna give it to you good when I get back, you’ll be dripping for days, shit—“

You moan, throwing your head back. Your husband has always been good at talking dirty, but this is on another level. The most irritating thing is that he’s right, your panties are practically soaked, and your hole is certainly fluttering. Frustrated tears keep building up in the corner of your eyes — you feel good, but you’re impatient, your fingers aren’t built like his, they don’t reach that same spot quite as easily, they aren’t like his—

“Hwa-jin, what did you— what did you dream about?” You ask desperately, trying your best to keep the tremble out of your voice, recalling the comment he had made over text.

The unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down reaches your ears. You can tell what he’s up to, and it sends another rush of wetness gushing through you.

“Hm, been dreaming about bending you over the couch for days. Every night, when I close my eyes, it’s the same fucking dream — you bent over our coach, screaming my name, while I pound into you. And it feels so fucking real, baby. You’re so soft, and tight, and I can almost smell that damn perfume of yours. It’s been driving me crazy all week. And then you decide to send me shit like this, and I—“ He lets out a muffled moan and you can hear those slick, upward-downward motions as he pleasures himself and your back arches when your fingers finally reach that spot inside of you.

A part of you finds this wildly arousing, that despite hundreds of kilometres keeping you apart, he can make you unravel with only his voice.

“I can’t control myself. You drive me crazy, you know you do. Didn’t even want to cum, wanted to save it all for you when I got back, every last drop. But then you send me things like that and what am I supposed to do? I’m a weak man when it comes to you.”

You whimper at his words, at the sheer vulnerability of them, the palm of your hand putting delicious pressure against your aching clit.

“I wish you were here, baby. I wish you could make me cum. You always make me cum so good, I love you so much—“ You whisper, getting emotional the way you always do when the pleasure is getting too much for you to take.

You close your eyes and imagine it’s not your fingers, but his, that are pumping in and out of you right now. You imagine he’s lying above you, smirking down at you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, kissing you, holding you. You imagine your legs locked around his waist as your nails scratch his back, imagine getting pressed down on the couch as he takes you from behind, his big, strong hands gripping your hips.

You have to make do with the fact that the real Hwa-jin, however, can, in this moment, only give you what you want with his voice. Can only dull the greediness inside of you through a phone.

“I know, I know I do, I love you too, more than you know. Wish I was there with you right now, you have no idea. Bet you look real pretty, you always do. You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”

You nod your head vigorously, even though you know he can’t see you. Still, it seems as if he senses your upcoming orgasm by your laboured breathing, the rhythm of which is starting to match his, both of you panting into the receiver like wild animals.

“Hwa-jin—I’m going to—“

“Cum for me, baby. Give it to me.”

You hear the slick sounds get louder and louder, and the thought of him getting off to your noises makes your release barrel towards you at breaking speed until your eyes roll toward the back of your head and your vision goes white in true, unabashed ecstasy.

Your ears are ringing, and you’re barely holding on to the phone, but you still hear the recognisable drawn-out groan, accompanied by expletives, that you’ve come to associate with your husband’s release.

Your vision is still swimming and you’re starting to feel drowsy when Hwa-jin calls out to you.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be home in two days.”

With a sated, satisfied smile, you hum out a tired “I love you” before hanging up, your eyes closing of their own volition. The fire in your hips seems to have finally simmered down.

Not for long, though, you’re sure.

48 hours can’t pass quicker.

. ₊˚ ☎︎₊˚✧

༺♡༻

“Hwa-jin, please—“

Squirming, you try to move your hips in his lap. His grip on you only tightens.

You are throbbing.

You know he can feel it, can feel the way your walls repeatedly clench around his hard length in a desperate search for relief or the way you move your hips in tiny, circular motions, guiding him even deeper inside. You’re also sure, given the fact that you’ve been perched in his lap like this for close to an hour now, that it must be taking him an enormous amount of self-control not to give in. He doesn’t show it, of course. His face is the very picture of serenity, an infuriating smirk on his lips as he looks up at you with open amusement, like he just couldn’t be bothered. Like you’re the crazy one for wanting to cum.

But what did you expect? Your boyfriend is Na Hwa-jin.

Discipline is practically his middle name.

You whine, burying your face in his neck. You can feel him huff out a laugh as his hands trail down to cup your ass.

“Hwa-jin—“ You begin again, voice slightly hoarse. “This isn’t fair.”

You clench around him for emphasis and his jaw tightens.

“It’d say it’s plenty fair, sweetheart. You’ve been acting like a brat all day — I’m teaching you a lesson.” He hums out softly in your ear as his large hand lifts to spank you, just as softly. You gasp, nevertheless.

For a punishment, you muse, he’s being quite gentle.

“No, I—“ You stutter out and stop yourself when you realise he’s right — you really have been a brat today.

So you try a different approach.

“I’m sorry, Hwa-jin, baby, I’m sorry, I need you, please—“

You subtly grind your hips as you beg, feeling him move inside of you to press right against that spot that makes you see stars. Your mouth opens in a wordless, soundless gasp of ecstasy, and Hwa-jin is suddenly grabbing the back of your head, boring his eyes into yours.

He’s no longer smirking. His pupils are so dilated, you can see the entirety of yourself, perfectly reflected in two pools of black.

“You need me, hm?” He whispers condescendingly, eyes going from your mouth, breasts and where you’re joined together, as if he can’t decide which sight he enjoys most. Belatedly, you realise that it’s also unfair that he gets to be clothed, his trousers zipped open just enough for him to enter you, while you writhe in his lap completely naked.

This is also a part of your punishment, you wager. But is it punishment if you’re enjoying it so much?

You nod frantically, on the brink of frustrated tears, and lean in to place a soft kiss on his lips. You can feel him sigh against you, his hands moving to engulf your waist and press you even closer to him, erasing any molecule of space there may have been between your bodies.

You feel even closer to him now, and as you slip your hands into his hair, losing yourself into a kiss that’s becoming increasingly more passionate, the sensation of Hwa-jin’s hard, thick length inside of you almost fades into the background.

That is, of course, until he reminds you of it— tilting his hips up to slam against that spot once again, the move so pin-point accurate that it couldn’t have been anything but intentional. Your walls instinctively flutter at the nudge and he laughs against your lips when you let out a high-pitched whine.

Such a fucking tease.

He breaks the kiss to nose at your neck, his breath against the delicate skin of your throat making you shudder.

“Show me how much you want it, baby. Ride me.”

It’s your turn to smile now.

Say less, Hwa-jin.

synopsis: jealousy is a good look on eddie.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), dirty talk, swearing

a/n: i need him.

---

"Who the fuck is that?" Eddie questions, thinly veiled fury laced within his words, and despite having your back turned, you can probably guess they're spoken through gritted teeth.

The fact that he had practically dragged you to the kitchen, as well as his hostile tone, makes you heave out a sigh, but admittedly, seeing another guy's arm around your girlfriend's waist is an understandable cause for concern. Swallowing your fears, you nervously adjust your hair and turn around to face Eddie, ready to tell him the news that had you avoiding him these past few weeks.

"My fake boyfriend. Label said I'll have to keep him around for a while, it would be beneficial to my public image or whatever, especially with the new single coming out." You start, the darkness of the quiet kitchen hiding Eddie's expression, the only source of noise being the loud, drunken hollering and cheering of The Six behind the closed door. "It's all fake. I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I just...I just didn't know how to tell you. You know I hate this just as much as you do."

You step forward, shyly reaching out and intertwining your fingers with his. For a moment, you think he won't forgive you, that he'd drop your hands and tell you that he just can't keep up with all your famous pop singer bullshit anymore. Instead, he proves you wrong, like he always does, and pulls you forward by your intertwined hands until your foreheads touch. He sighs, anger washed away by your explanation, but tension in his shoulders still very much present.

"Is this why you've been avoiding me? Jesus, you made me go crazy. For a second there, I thought it was over when I saw you with that blonde douchebag. Don't ever do that again." Eddie murmurs and you smile slightly, shaking your head.

"Noted. I'm sorry, again." You reply and he kisses your forehead, accepting your apology.

"I want us to go public." Eddie declares after a beat of peaceful silence, looking at you right in the eyes, speaking with the hard resolution of someone who's saying something that's been on their mind for a long time. "I don't want to hide anymore. I want to write songs about you, and I want you to write songs about me, and have everybody know we wrote them for each other. I don't want to love you in secret like this anymore."

Your eyes soften at his confession and you kiss him tenderly, putting every single ounce of your love into it, hoping he'd understand that you feel the same way. He leans into it, hands grabbing your waist and pulling your body against his.

"Y'know, the entire band probably knows we're an item already. I mean, we don't exactly try to hide it around them." You joke when you break apart for air, a trail of spit connecting you and Eddie's lips.

He chuckles, pupils dilated as he gazes at it, and starts to slowly corner you against Billy and Camilla's fridge.

"They do. But how about we make things clear for that boyfriend of yours too, yeah?" He whispers and you swallow when his thumb reaches out and slowly pulls your bottom lip down. You tune out the sounds coming from the other room the longer you look at him.

"Jump, baby." Eddie commands and you immediately do so, wrapping your legs around his hips and burying your hands in his hair, while he grips your ass, fully pressing you against the fridge.

He kisses you then, previous tenderness replaced with predatory hunger, as he bites and licks his way into your mouth. You let out a helpless moan, involuntarily dragging yourself across his hard-on, the feel of it on your core making you gasp.

"You're already hard?" You question in disbelief, slightly pulling away from him, eyebrows raised so high they almost reach your hairline.

He licks his lips while you speak, looking inconvenienced at your interruption.

"Been hard like a rock since I saw you in that dress, sweetheart, you just didn't see it. Too focused on your boyfriend, probably." He teases without any actual malice, but before you get the chance to scoff and tell him to fuck off, he's already kissing his way down your neck.

You can only sit there, lost in a haze of enjoyment, as he frantically drags your dress up your thighs, continuing to pepper kisses on your collarbones and cleavage. Once your dress is finally out of the way, he doesn't waste any time and cups your cunt in one large hand, making you shiver, while he drags his thumb across the wet spot of your panties.

"Is this all for me?" He asks, knowing the answer already but wanting to enjoy the satisfaction of hearing you say it.

"It's always for you." The words roll off your tongue, an unabashed truth, and he rewards you for it by pulling off your panties - but instead of dropping them on the floor, he decides to shove them in the pocket of his jeans.

His movements are quick, but you see all of it, and hit his back with your leg as a form of protest. Eddie squeezes your hips in return, stilling you immediately, but offering no explanation, only dragging his thumb across your slick entrance, eyes intently focused on it.

"Eddie, why the hell did you do tha- oh, shit." You start just as two of his fingers glide inside of you, and his thumb starts rubbing your clit in circles.

Your back arches at the feeling of his fingers pistoning in and out, as you completely disregard what you were going to say. Eddie answers anyway.

"Want my cum to be leaking out of you after this." He tells you like it's obvious, and the idea is so erotic it makes you whimper, your warm head falling back against the cold metal of the fridge.

You take a look at Eddie, not nearly as messy as you, a perfect picture of composure and self-control, and feel as if you have to rectify it. After all, you can't be the only one moaning and panting.

You grab the collars of his jacket and lean in to whisper in his ear, just as he delivers yet another precise thrust to your G-spot and another wave of pleasure hits you.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, if you don't put your cock in me right this second, I just might have to call my boyfriend." You tempt, tracing the shell of his ear with your tongue, and he catches the bait, anger coming back with a vengeance.

Suddenly, his fingers are being pulled out and the metallic clink of his belt echoes throughout every crevice in the room. Before you know it, you feel the head of his cock against your entrance and he enters you impatiently, your mouth opening in a silent scream before he catches it in a passionate kiss.

You think he's going to start out slow like usual, savouring the feel of you around him. But it seems that he has different plans for you tonight.

You groan out his name as he instead begins to pound into you mercilessly, and all you can do is hold on for dear life.

"Yeah, baby, take my fuckin' cock, just like that. Shit, I missed this tight little pussy. Missed you." He groans in your ear, alternating between kissing your neck, shoulder and jaw, the contrast between his tender touch, filthy words and brutal pace rolling your eyes back with sheer pleasure.

His thrusts move in tandem with your moans as your body slackens in his grip, letting yourself feel every single delicious inch of him inside you. Your shaking hand moves downward in an attempt to relieve your throbbing clit, but Eddie slaps it away, replacing it with his own.

"So fuckin' pretty when you're like this, sweetheart, dumb on cock. I'm the only one that gets to have you like this, yeah?" Eddie asks, voice hoarse, rubbing your clit just the way you like it.

"Yes, fuck yes, yes, yes, yes, Eddie!" You gasp out, partly as a response and partly as a plea for him to keep fucking you silly like this.

He gently slaps your clit, a satisfied smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, as he reaches forward to suck on your earlobe, and you barely have time to yelp when his pace quickens even more. The sound of skin slapping against skin is so painfully loud in the dark kitchen it makes you briefly wonder if his bandmates in the other room have already heard you, but as if reading your thoughts, Eddie speaks again.

"Let them hear what I'm doing to you, how much you love this cock. My pretty girl." He tells you, pulling out and lightly slapping your clit with the head of his cock, a gesture so uncharacteristically possessive of him, it makes you clench around nothing.

Nodding helplessly, you move your hips around in an attempt to communicate how much you want his cock back inside, and he complies, resuming his punishing pace the moment he re-enters you. You cry out, walls gripping him like a vice, nails dragging against his clothed back. He groans at the combined sensation and kisses you so hard your teeth clank against each other.

"Eds, I'm going to-" You're cut off as his cock delivers yet another precise thrust. But you don't need to finish your sentence, if the understanding glint in his eyes is any indication. He moves you around before you have any time to process what's happening and you're suddenly being laid on the countertop - face down, ass up - and he enters you just as his hand buries itself in your hair, yanking, but not enough to hurt, as you feel your whole body being manhandled upright, your back pressed against his chest.

Your blurry eyes catch sight of the kitchen entrance, and it clicks, just as you feel your climax take hold - anyone could walk in right now and see you getting fucked like a whore by Eddie Roundtree himself, bent over the countertop.

And that's exactly what Eddie wants.

"Cum for me, baby, c'mon. Let go for me." He urges behind you, panting due to his own impending orgasm, and you do just that. As your ears start ringing and your vision turns white, you can briefly recognize his voice coaxing you through it. You lean your head against his shoulder when you feel him follow shortly after, releasing inside of you.

The kitchen is comfortingly quiet as both of you calm down from your respective orgasms. Eddie presses kisses at the back of your head, a silent apology for his slightly rough treatment, and you turn your head, kissing his cheek in return.

You're about to tell him that you love him when the kitchen door opens and your fake boyfriend Anthony (or was it Aaron?) appears at the threshold, eyes widening in shock as he takes in the sight in front of him. You avert your eyes down in embarrassment, but Eddie moves his hand towards him in a shooing gesture, a toothy smile on his face that only emerges when he knows he's being a prick and loving it.

"Do you mind? Me and my girl were having a moment."

The guy nods shakily and leaves, the look on his face so bewildered it almost makes you feel bad.

"Eddie..." You sigh and he laughs, prideful, the sound of his uninhibited laughter making butterflies flutter in your stomach. "That was so unnecessary."