Anon Asks: Heyy!! Hope You're Doing Okay. I Wanted To Make A Imagine/fic Request Where Yunho And His

Anon asks: heyy!! hope you're doing okay. i wanted to make a imagine/fic request where yunho and his s/o preparing for a night together or yunho going for a formal meeting or something idk you decide and then s/o prepares his suit and helps him to get ready. while his s/o fixing his collar yunho examines his s/o's face and it goes on like this. i know i have very detailed request but sorry 😂 this image of yunho appeared in my mind and i wanted to read it too. hope it's not weird if it's too detailed don't mind changing the details, you're the creator!!! andddd thank you! 💖💖

Note: It's a bit short, but I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much!

“Can you help me” Yunho had walked up to you wearing a small pout, his tone a bit frustrated as he just couldn’t seem to get his tie right. “Seriously I don’t get why I can’t do this.” 

“Let me” you tug him closer, reaching to undo the lopsided tie and carefully begin to redo it. He was getting ready for a big event he and some of the other members were attending tonight while you were opting to stay home for some quiet time after a long work week.

“You still have time to change your mind and come with me” he reminded you, leaning down slightly so you could reach better. 

“It’s tempting, but I think I’ll settle for staying here.” You gesture toward the cluttered counter, you are in the beginning stage of baking a cake. “Besides, I want to have the cake done and ready for you when you get home.”

“You spoil me” he smiled, straightening up as you finished with his tie and stepped back; admiring your work and Yunho’s suit in general. 

You roll your eyes, grabbing his forearm and tugging him towards the living room. You both sit down and you begin to futz with his hair, pushing it out of his face and fixing his part to make sure it looked as neat as possible. "What would I do without you?"

"Go out with poorly parted hair?" You tease, giggling as he feigns offense.

"Gimmie your hand" he huffs as you try to avoid him grabbing your wrist as you try to finish up with his hair. He catches your wrist gently, bringing your hand down to press a kiss to the back of it. He keeps his fingers interlocked with yours as you smile and sit back.

“You look amazing.” He hums, leaning back in closer to you. “What are you doing?” You giggled. Yunho’s fingers traced along your cheek, ticking you and leaving little goosebumps on your skin. 

“Just admiring” he smiled. He moved to cup your face, his thumb still tracing slow circles on your cheek. “Wish you were coming with me, wanna show everyone how beautiful you are.” You laugh, leaning into his hold. His eyes scan your face. He makes eye contact, captivated in your eyes as he so often is and likely would never grow out of. His gaze trails over the curve of your nose, to your lips, and back up to your eyes.

“I’ll be here when you get back, you can admire all you want then, but you need to get going.” You warn. Yunho nods, pausing for a moment to turn back to you. He holds eye contact for a moment, his thumb slowly trailing from your cheek to your bottom lip. He leans down and kisses you and when he pulls away he presses one more smooch to your forehead before stepping away. “See you later baby” he smiles, and you smile back with just as much endearment.

summer nights (j.yh)

summary: he's your best friend and roommate, but during the heat of summer and the confinement of quarantine, you just can't seem to help yourselves.

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // this fic is just pure self indulgence, but i'm kind of liking the cheeky college au yunho vibes, you can blame the new wonderwall photos

warnings: best friend!yunho, fem!reader, quarantine and talk of early covid times, sexual frustration, big dick!yunho, oral (m receiving), fingering, semi rough sex, use of toys, light overstimulation, basically reader is pent up and struggling to get off and hot bestie yunho helps out. please let me know if I missed any.

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: college non idol au; suggestive, smut, fluff, comedy

word count: 8.5K

my masterlist || read it on AO3 || the sequel; summer's end

              It’s a little impossible not to look at him when he’s like this. He’s been your friend since the start of college, but your roommate for only a little over four months. You didn’t think it would be this difficult. It’s not as if you didn’t know he was attractive, of course you did, but you had always found a steady friendly rhythm with him that never turned overly flirtatious, so living with him should have been safe. It probably would have been until the firm constraints of quarantine, and now it feels like you’re trapped in a pressure cooker.

              He’s collapsed back into the couch cushions, Xbox controller in hand and his headset askew, one ear off and one ear on. He’s wearing a pair of ratty gray sweatpants, ones that have been driving you particularly insane the last few weeks, and a fitted black tank top. Yunho’s eyes are trained on the screen, intensely focused. You watch him play, one thumb circling on the left joystick, his other clicking buttons calculated and quick, the tendons in his hands jumping.

              “I said on the left,” Yunho says through the mic, his voice firm.

              Your thighs press together unconsciously, four months of this absolute sexual drought was starting to take its toll and even his irritated competitive voice was frustrating you. You focus down on your phone from your spot on the opposite side of the couch and continue scrolling Instagram.

              “Obviously it’s our left, we’re going the same way, Mingi.” Yunho groans and you bite the inside of your cheek.

              It’s almost ninety degrees today and the two measly window units you have in the apartment are working overtime, but still not bringing the temperature down to a manageable temperature. Yunho’s skin has a light sheen of sweat across it, and you find yourself swallowing hard, trying to look anywhere else but at him.

              “Nice,” Yunho comments through his headset and you can hear the echo of Mingi and the other guys shouting through the one headphone that sits half off his right ear.

              When he takes in a sharp breath, hunching over with his elbows now on his knees to focus, you have to go. Climbing over the back of the couch so you don’t have to walk in front of the TV and break his concentration, you pass through the small breakfast nook and into the kitchen to open the freezer. Sometimes when you were sure he was going to be occupied for long enough, you’d slip into the shower and take care of this frustrated tension yourself, but lately even that wasn’t working. Four months without being properly touched was officially too much.

              You don’t hear him come into the kitchen until he chuckles at you, watching you lean into the open freezer, the cold frosty air passing across your cheeks.

              “Hot?” He raises an eyebrow.

              “Yeah,” you sigh and back up from the freezer to shut the door, opting to lean against the kitchen counter by the sink behind you in your small alley kitchen, “if I knew when we signed our lease that we were going to be literally trapped inside all summer I would have said let’s spring for the better place with central air.”

              “Same,” he steps past you to reach into the fridge and grab a water bottle.

              You watch him as he cracks the seal on the top and takes a long swig, the muscles in his throat tensing pleasantly when he swallows.

              “What?” he says, noticing the way your eyes are on him.

              You clear your throat, shrugging, “Nothing, I’m just out of it today.”

              “Ah,” he shrugs. After a beat he turns to you, “What are you doing today, anyways?”

              You sigh, “probably the same thing I’ve been doing since class ended? Nothing and more nothing? Maybe I’ll finally pick up a new hobby,”

              “You’ve picked up several,” he notes, a teasing glint in his eye.

              “Yes, I know, ha ha.”

              “I just don’t know why you thought picking up knitting in the middle of June would be a good idea,” he shrugs and starts to head back out of the kitchen. “Our air conditioner’s broken? Add more wool to the problem, that should solve it.”

              “Oh, whatever, at least I’m trying to fill the time,” You retort, heading back out to the main room with him, “I seriously never thought I’d say I wish classes would start up again, but at least I’d have something to do.”

              “Yeah,” he flops back down on the couch, tossing the controller onto the coffee table and taking another swig of water, “that and the not working thing is really kind of fucked.”

              “Yeah,”

              You had both worked as servers last year until Yunho lucked into a bar tending job at a better spot. When he brought you over with him it was the financial boost you needed to start really saving some money, but now with quarantine and the uncertainty, you are both eating into your savings month after month.

              “They said it should end by September,” he shrugs, “if we made it four months, we can make it two more.”

              “Flu season,” you shake your head, “it’s not ending.”

              He rolls his eyes, “you are the least optimistic person I’ve ever met.”

              “Realistic,” you counter.

              “Yeah,” he swipes a hand across his brow, “well if we’re still not working by October that’s gonna be tough,”

              “Yeah,” you can’t help but worry the inside of your lip with your teeth, the idea of it nerve wracking.

              “Mingi said his place might be hiring,” he notes, “but the pay isn’t great.”

              “It’s pay,” you say, “and hiring in the middle of a pandemic has to be a good sign, right?”

              “Maybe,”

              “I have to figure out what I can do from home,” you murmur, “I’ve only ever been a server, I don’t know who would hire me for a desk job.”

              He sits up a bit, and you can see his brain shift into problem solving mode, one of the many things you love about him. He thinks for a minute and then says, “You could do something like a call center?”

              “Eh, maybe,” you shrug, “not ideal.”

              “Transcribe stuff?” He offers.

              “I checked into that, the pay is terrible,”

              “Okay, so a last resort.” He thinks again, biting his lip, then looking up at you with bright eyes, “maybe you could finally do some freelance stuff? Maybe put a portfolio together, I could help with the website,”

              The way he’s looking at you makes you want to melt into the couch, but you manage, “Yeah, I could do that. It might take time to make it profitable, but it’s a good idea.”

              He smiles at you, “You should, you’d be good at it.”

              “I’ll think about it,” you agree.

              His smile quirks into something a bit more wry, and you know he’s about to say something sarcastic, “In the meantime there’s always OnlyFans.”

              That is not at all what you expected him to say, and you can barely respond, “What?”

              “Calm down, I’m kidding,” he laughs at your panicked expression, “I know you wouldn’t be comfortable with that.”

              “Yeah,” his soft laugh helps you relax, and you continue, “it’s not like I have anything against the people who do, I mean, get it if you can get it right?”

              He laughs again, covering his mouth with his hand before he says, “y/n, relax. Besides, I doubt you’ve ever taken a nude photo in your life.”

              A sharp pang of heat runs through you, but you can’t help but fire back, “Yes, I have?”

              Both his eyebrows raise high, “I didn’t think you’d admit to it if you had,”

              You never talk like this with him. Short of you both checking in to make sure your respective dates went well, and Yunho having a slight history of eyeing up your past partners a little too much to make sure they weren’t total assholes, romance and sex was not a frequent topic. Something about the thick summer air and the fact that you had been trapped inside for months on end in such close quarters with him had you getting a little bold. “Yunho, I’m not a prude. I’m just selective,”

              “I’m just surprised,” he raises his hands in mock defeat, “you’ve just always seemed like kind of a romantic, less college hookup.”

              “Yeah,” you settle back against the arm of the couch, “I guess you’re right, but being a romantic doesn’t mean I don’t hookup with people. It’s just been…a while. And it’s not like I’ve sent a ton of nudes or something, I don’t mean that, I just mean that I have, once or twice.”

              “You seem nervous,” he chuckles, “I’m not judging. I think it’s nice that you’re selective.”

              “Thanks,” you manage, not sure what to say to something like that.

              He lets it lie for just a minute and then says it, unable to help himself, “who are you even sending nudes to?”

              “Sent,” you correct, “Past tense,”

              “Still,” he presses a little, a smile still across his mouth and you know that he’s just being playful. If you told him to stop, he would, if you said you were uncomfortable he would back off immediately, but there’s something open there, and if you just step through you’re not sure where this conversation might go.

              You groan, “Okay, fine,” he grins, “but we’re never talking about this again and you cannot tease me.”

              “Cross my heart,” he says, and he mimes it, his finger dragging into an X across his chest.

              “Do you remember Park Seonghwa?” You say, and your cheeks heat thinking about the very short lived but very lovely relationship you had in sophomore year.

              His mouth drops open a little surprised, “Yeah, I definitely do.”

              “What?” You press him.

              “I don’t know who I expected,” he says honestly, “you could do worse. He’s a good guy,”

              “I know, it’s a shame,”

              “What is?” he cocks his head to the side.

              “We just didn’t really gel long term,” you shrug, “but he was a really sweet guy, the kind who plans dates and stuff? Plus, the rest,” you catch yourself, blushing harder and dragging a hand over your face, “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

              His mouth is pressed in a tight line, holding in a laugh before saying, “I mean you have to tell me now,”

              You sigh and let it rush out of you, “The sex was good, like really good. We just weren’t in love with each other so everything kind of faded after a while.”

              “You’re blushing really hard right now,” he grins, his tongue in cheek.

              “I said you couldn’t make fun of me,” you groan, “I don’t interrogate you about your sexual escapades.”

              “Escapades?” His eyebrow raises.

              “Whatever, you know what I mean.”

              “I know,” he shakes his head, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to tease you. It’s cute,”

              Your stomach flip flops, “Great,”

              “But I’m sorry anyways, that it didn’t work out,” he leans back into his side of the couch and takes another drink of water, glancing out the window briefly before returning his eyes on you.

              “It’s fine,” you shrug, “it was a while ago.”

              “Mm,” he nods, “so that’s a no to OnlyFans, then?”

              He’s good at twisting moments back around towards a joke, keeping things light whenever there’s a serious turn in conversation. You give him a smile, “Yeah, that’s a no.”

              He takes a deep intake of breath and exhales long, bouncing his leg, tapping his fingers along the side of his knee. You love this energy he has, seemingly boundless and pouring out of him in the smallest ways. It’s been months since he’s been able to properly visit the dance studio and see most of his friends other than you, you’ve both been good and careful about the pandemic, but you can see that it leaves him tense.

              You’re about to ask him what he’s going to do with the rest of his day, when his head snaps back you and he says, seemingly out of the blue, “Just Park Seonghwa, then?”

              “What?” You ask, confused.

              “You said you’re selective,” he explains, “so you’ve only sent pictures to him?”

              You feel yourself blush again, heat spreading across your cheeks, and your stomach knots tight. He’s walking an invisible line that you’ve always kept cleanly between you, and you have no idea how you should respond. “Why do you want to know?” Your voice sounds smaller than you wanted it to.

              “I’m curious, I guess,” he shrugs, but his eyes don’t leave yours.

              You shift positions on the couch, desperately trying to ignore just how tight your shorts seem to suddenly be where the denim bunches against your core. “No, not just him.”

              “Interesting,” he says.

              “There was a guy I was talking to at the beginning of lockdown,” you explain, thinking back on your brief connection, “we were supposed to meet up for a date and then the stay-at-home orders came down, but we kept talking.”

              “Oh,” his eyes widen a little, “I’m sorry, are you guys still… are you seeing someone, and I have like no idea?”

              You laugh, “No, no,” you wave him off, “we eventually just stopped talking. We were just messing around for a while.”

              “Damn,” he shakes his head, “I thought I was just the most unobservant man on the planet for second,”

              You shake your head, thinking back to your time attempting to sext the guy you met on Tinder during the first month of quarantine. It was fun at first, but something about him just didn’t do it. He never knew what to say, was focused on himself, and he was cute, but he left you more frustrated than when you started talking half the time.

              “He wasn’t like… an asshole or anything?” Yunho cocks his head to the side when he asks, his eyes studying you.

              “No,” you smile at him, “he was nice just not really… helping,”

              “Ah,” he clears his throat, his eyes flicking away. Now you have crossed the line, officially. Standing in this strange new space where you’re alluding to your orgasms, or lack thereof, with a man who up to this point had made it clear he just viewed you as a friend.

              You glance down at your phone nervously, not a single notification to open and distract you from this. The apartment is quiet for a beat, just the sound of the wheezing window unit pumping tepid air into the room. Your head snaps back up when he says, “So he couldn’t get you off,”

              “Yunho,” your whole body feels tense and anxious at his words, “what are we doing?”

              “Talking,” he answers with no hesitation, and for the first time the way he looks at you feels different.

              “This doesn’t feel like talking,”

              He holds your gaze, “We can stop talking if you want.”

              You’ve already come this far, and whatever you’re about to do or not do might fully ruin the delicately balanced friendship you’ve crafted with him, but you’re pretty sure you don’t care. “We can talk,” you assure him.

              The space between you on the couch feels miles long. Your eyes flick over him, his position reclined against the back of his half of the sectional, his knees spread wide, and he bends his arm at the elbow to rest his hand against his lip, thinking as he watches you. Finally, he prompts you again, “He couldn’t, right?”

              You look down quickly, away from his intense gaze, “Not really,”

              “Why not?” He asks, his voice soft and low.

              “I don’t really know that it was his fault,” you admit, looking back up to him, “it’s been a while and I couldn’t really get out of my own head about the whole thing.”

              The heated flirting drops and suddenly he’s back to being your best friend, “are you telling me you haven’t come in months?”

              “Jesus,” you cover your face with your hands for a second, dragging your hands through your hair, “when you just say it like that.”

              “I’m really not sure how I’m supposed to say that,” he shrugs, “but seriously, like what… this whole time?”

              “I mean,” you nod, “pretty much.”

              “You haven’t come in four months?” He clarifies.

              You wince, and find yourself admitting, “more like… six?”

              “Six months.” He repeats.

              “You really don’t have to make me feel worse,” you pull your legs up to your chest, “it’s not for lack of trying.”

              “I don’t mean it like that,” he shakes his head, “I’m not trying to make you feel bad I guess I just… I mean is everything okay?”

              You laugh, sharp, and shake your head, “This is kind of mortifying, you know that right?”

              “It doesn’t have to be,” he assures you, “It’s just me, but if you don’t want to talk about it, we definitely don’t have to.”

              “No, it’s just,” you sigh, “I really don’t know if it’s just me, or my meds, or what, it’s just been like not working right.”

              “Oh,” he nods, and after a beat he looks up, “can I help?”

              “Yunho,” You level him with your eyes, “I appreciate your confidence here, but if I can’t get myself off, I don’t know how you’re going to, and I’m really not trying to have the most embarrassing sexual experience of my life with my best friend, who I live with, during a global pandemic.”

              “I highly doubt it would be the most embarrassing,” he grins at you.

              “Yunho,” you shake your head, “seriously.”

              “I’m sorry,” he says, softening a bit, “I just haven’t been with anyone since this whole thing started either, and with literally no end in sight I was just thinking maybe we could,”

              “Help each other?” You finish for him.

              “Yeah, basically,”

              “Listen,” you start to say, desperately ignoring the pooling heat in your stomach, “it’s not that I’m not interested, I just don’t want to disappoint either of us when we’re trapped together and make things awkward.”

              “So, you are interested?” He grins.

              “That was not the important part of that sentence,” you roll your eyes.

              “y/n,” he leans forwards, elbows on his knees, “I’ll drop it if you really want me to, but what if it’s good? We could try, just once and see.”

              “Yunho,” you manage, the indecision clear in your voice.

              “We’ll never talk about it again if it’s not good or not what you want,” he offers, “or you can tell me now to shut the fuck up and I will. I just haven’t been with anyone in months, and frankly you’re driving me fucking insane walking around the apartment in shorts that short.”

              “Oh my God,” you shake your head, laughing at his frankness.

              “Come on,” he urges gently, “I bet I can make you come.”

              A hot knife of need cuts through you, and you look down again, away from his gaze and focus for just a minute. This was likely the worst idea, and you can see forward into the future, his disappointment that he couldn’t get you there, and your continued frustration only now public and uncomfortable knowledge. His words ring in your brain. What if it’s good?

              It had been a while, but you can’t help the words that leave you, a challenge on your lips, “I bet you can’t.”

              “What?” it’s his turn to sound a little unsettled, and you look back up to lock eyes.

              “I bet you can’t make me come,” you say again.

              His eyes darken, and he drop his head a little, looking at you from hooded eyes, “Are you saying yes?”

              “I’m saying you can try,” he can’t help but smile at your words, “you can try, but it’s just this once. And you can’t complain afterwards or tease me about this.”

              The hot flirtation across his face fades instantly, “I would never do that to you,”

              “I,” you nod, “I know, it’s just embarrassing.”

              He reaches across the couch with an outstretched hand, “Come here,”

              You move without thinking, taking his hand, and letting him pull you over to stand between his knees. His fingers hook into the belt loops of your shorts, and he looks up at you, “I would never do that to you,” he repeats, “you’re my friend first, okay?”

              “Yeah,” you nod.

              “Just relax,” he says, and he squeezes your hips in his large hands. Your breath catches and he smiles at the reaction, squeezing you again to see if he can elicit the same response, “Do you have any hard no’s?”

              “Oh,” you blink, thinking for a minute and carding through your past sexual experiences, “Not really? I don’t love name calling, but I mean, it’s not a hard no I guess?”

              He smirks, “I wasn’t going to call you a whore on the first date,”

              “Yunho!” you smack his shoulder, and he smiles wide, laughing through the awkward tension and easing some of your nerves.

              “Alright,” he settles, “no name calling. Can I lead?”

              Your brow quirks up at his question, “As opposed to?”

              “You leading,” he smiles, “but I think that answers my question.”

              You blush, “Oh! Yeah, yeah, you can lead.”

              “Are we doing this now?” He checks.

              “If we’re not going to do it now, I’m going to think about it until we do.”

              “Fair enough,” his thumbs brush against the skin at the top of your shorts, soft and even.

              “Okay,” you drop your hands and rest them on his forearms, “um… where do you want to start?”

              He smiles up at you, “I want you to start by relaxing.”

              “Sorry,”

              “y/n?” He says.

              “Hmm?” You look down to meet his eyes, sucking in a tight breath of air when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.

              “Shut up, okay?”

              “Got it,” you don’t know what you should do with your hands, with anything, so you settle for biting your lip and watching him.

              He looks down dragging his fingers across your skin until he hooks them further and uses his thumb to pop the button of your jean shorts open. You’re suddenly very grateful that you decided to shave your legs yesterday and you were wearing not completely unbecoming underwear, but your mind blanks out again when he drags down the zipper and pulls the shorts off over your hips. He taps your calf softly to prompt you to step up and out of them, and he kicks them back out of your way once they’re off you.

              The t-shirt you’re wearing is oversized, and it drops low over you, brushing the tops of your thighs. His gaze is hungry, and he gathers the fabric in his hands to push it up your body just enough, revealing the soft plane of your stomach.

              “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he sighs, looking you over.

              “You haven’t seen a girl in months,” you retort.

              He doesn’t look up, but you can see that he rolls his eyes and smiles, “Learn to take a compliment,” he says, “you’re hot.”

              You can’t even begin to formulate a response, he doesn’t give you a chance before he leans forward and presses his lips to your hip, softly working kisses across the top of your panties, hooking a thumb under one side and pulling them up a bit so he can move down the crease of your thigh before moving up and humming softly, a kiss against your stomach, your other hip, your other thigh. You’re trembling already, the sensation of another person’s skin on yours enough to make you dizzy, but his slow nuzzling kisses have you feeling weak and craving.

              “Come here,” he murmurs again, and leans back against the cushions. He directs you with his hands on your hips, stepping you back and sliding a knee between your open legs before pulling you forwards and prompting you to settle on him, straddling his thigh.

              When the tense muscle of his thigh connects with your clit, despite the layers of fabric between you, you let out a soft pant. He catches your arms in his large hands, sweeping down your skin and taking your hands. He pulls you forwards slightly, and settles your hands on his chest, before returning his hands to your hips.

              He tugs on your them gently, which rolls you forwards just a little on his thigh before sliding you back to your original position, the friction against your clit warm and firm. He tenses his muscles beneath you, watching your face carefully when you drop your mouth open a little and suck in a breath. It’s obvious to you now that he’s going to be good at this, and a nervous thrill runs up your spine.

              He rocks your hips again and you catch on quickly, planting your hands more firmly on his chest and rolling your hips yourself. You’re slow to start, maintaining a steady fluid pressure against your clit, and he keeps his hands on your hips as you move. His brows are knit together, his mouth open as he watches you, and you can’t help but pant a little laugh, “I thought you were going to make me come,”

              He smirks, “you haven’t come in six months and you’re in a rush?”

              “Fuck off,” you manage, and he tenses his leg again in response which has you gripping his shirt in your hands, warm pleasure coiling through you.

              He keeps one hand on your hip, but with the other he gathers the material of your shirt in his palm and pulls up, stopping just under your breasts. He watches you, his teeth catching his lower lip as he watches you grind yourself against him. His gaze is intense, and when he leans forwards just enough to move the hand on your hip up back and then back down to cup your ass, you sigh.

              “Yunho,” you mumble, swallowing the tense knot in your throat and he relaxes his hand, looking up at you immediately.

              “You good?” He murmurs.

              You nod, “Yeah,”

              He drops your shirt and sweeps your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear and keeping his hand cupping the side of your face, “Sure?”

              Your hips still, and you come back to center to meet his eyes, “I’m okay,” you assure him, “are you?”

              “Yeah, yeah,” he runs a thumb along your cheekbone, “I’m just checking,”

              “Can we move to the bedroom?” you ask, and he drops his hands to your hips to ease you up off his thigh. He lets out a pleased hum when he sees the dark wet patch of his sweatpants where you had worked yourself against him, and without thinking further he reaches out and catches his fingers against you, feeling your damp underwear.

              You stumble a step back, the sensation catching a moan in your throat, and he snaps a hand up to grab your forearm and steady you. “Fuck,” he laughs, “sorry,”

              “Let’s go,” you tug his arm.

              “Your room or mine?” He asks.

              “Yours,” you answer immediately, “your bed is bigger.”

              He takes your hand and leads you down the hall to the room at the back, and as he crosses the threshold, he remembers an image of you passed out on top of his bed covers the first month you lived here, a few too many drinks too early in the evening. He liked the look of you in his bed, he remembers. He turns and takes you in his capable hands, maneuvering your back to the face the bed and tipping you down onto the mattress.

              “Can I take these off you?” He pulls the side of your panties.

              “Yeah,”

              He pulls both sides down over your hips, and you lift them to make it a little easier for him. He groans softly when he sees how slowly they pull away from your core, slightly stuck to your wetness. He tosses them away, pushing your shirt up again, and dropping to his knees on the floor between your open legs. Immediately you’re anxious, something about this had always been so intimate, and he hasn’t even kissed you yet.

              You look up to the ceiling, your hands bunching in the sheets beneath you. Yunho’s hands coast up your thighs, dip up over your hips, smooth across your stomach, before he stops completely. One of his large hands covers yours, slipping his fingers into your fist to relax your hand, “Hey,” he says softly, “you want to tell me why you’re so nervous?”

              You look down at him, he’s still perched between your open legs, one hand on yours and the other warmly over your thigh. His eyes are warm, open. “I don’t know,” you say honestly.

              “Is it me? Or what we’re doing?” He asks.           

              “I think both,” you confess, “you’re my best friend, this is just… it’s a lot.”

              “Okay,” he slides away from you, his hand leaving yours.

              “Wait, I didn’t mean we shouldn’t,” you exclaim, sitting up and letting your shirt drop back over you.

              “We’re not done, y/n,” he shakes his head, “just trust me.”

              You nod and watch as he pulls back the coverlet and top sheet on his bed, nodding so that you can climb under the covers. He crosses the room and lowers the temperature on the air conditioning unit a few more degrees, making it whine as it kicks into gear and starts pushing cooler air into the room. Without preamble, he pulls off his blank tank top and tosses it to the side and shucks off his sweats and boxers.

              “Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and he smiles at you.

              “Yeah?”

              “I don’t know what I expected,” you say.

              “What?” He teases, “I work out, you see me work out all the time.”

              He’s right, you do. You’re not surprised by the lean tone of his body, broad shouldered and taut arms and abs, you’re stricken by the size of him and how you’ve never once considered that he might be bigger than your previous partners.

              “You know that’s not what I mean,” you clear your throat softly, “you’re just, uh,”

              “Perfect?” He jests, climbing into bed and pulling the covers back over him, “Well-endowed? A god among men?”

              “I was going to say big,” you laugh, and he crowds you a little, his fingers tickling your sides until you giggle, slapping his hands away, “god, you’re a menace.”

              “I aim to please,” he teases again, tugging the hem of your shirt up, silently asking you to take it off.

               You pull it over your head, tossing it over the edge of the bed and twisting to try and unhook your bra. Yunho slips a hand behind you, catching the clasp in between his thumb and first two fingers and slides it just right so that the hook and eye claps fall open.

              “You’re too good at that,” you comment, sliding the straps off your shoulders and pulling it away to toss it aside.

              “It’s really not difficult,” he chuckles, pulling you into his arms and further under the covers.

              You have the urge to cover yourself, very aware that you’re naked in front of him for the first time but tucked under the blanket and pressed against his chest leaves you fairly concealed still and you try your best to stay calm and let him lead.

              “Now,” he says, his voice low, “can you relax for me?”

              His words make you clench your muscles, and he feels you twitch beneath him. He studies your face for a moment and tries again, “Can you be good for me?”

              “Oh,” you breathe, gripping his back.

              He seems to have you figured out now, just enough, and he lowers himself half over you. He cups the back of your head, pulling you closer, and he finally presses his mouth to yours. His lips are soft, and he releases a contented sigh of warm air against your cheek. He holds you close, kissing you sweetly at first and then nuzzles you gently with his nose before dipping his tongue into your mouth and flicking it against yours.

              You moan into his mouth and his hands tighten on you as he intensifies the kiss, a little desperate, hot, and needy. It’s all the intimacy you need for things to start to slot into place in your brain. Yunho’s kissing you, and he’s frankly very good at it. You draw him closer, your arms around him and pulling him down against you, your bare breasts pressed tightly against his chest. He groans into your mouth at the contact, and suddenly his hands feel everywhere. Yunho kisses you again, softly biting your bottom lip, moving down your throat to lick and suck at your pulse points, nipping at your collarbone, tongue dragging a line down your chest as he turns his attention to your breasts.

              “Fuck,” you choke, dropping your head back against his pillows when he takes a nipple in his mouth.

              When you wind a hand into the back of his hair and pull him in closer, he sucks harder, sparking a line of pleasure straight to your core. He lifts up, his mouth leaving you, so he can settle on his side next to you. He pulls you close into his chest, one arm around your back as he supports you against his shoulder.

              “Yunho,” you whine as his hand presses down across the length of your body, and he shudders at his name on your lips like that, finally no pretense or anxiety, just wanting.

              “Spread your legs,” he murmurs, pressing his fingers between your tightly locked thighs.

              You comply immediately, and he pushes one of your legs open wider, your leg bending the knee and up by your side to give him the most access. He wastes no time, his fingers sweeping up your wet slit until he finds your firm swollen clit at the apex of your thighs. He watches you as he rolls his fingers, testing which way has you the most breathy and pliant, what pressure makes your hand on his back tighten and dig your nails in.

              “Like this?” He asks when he finds a good rhythm.

              It is good, a hot rush of warmth radiating up from your core. It feels good to be taken care of finally after so long, safe with him pressed up against you, his lips against your forehead, soft kisses as he works your body. When you don’t respond he kisses you and murmurs again, “tell me what you like,”

              “Here,” you catch his hand in yours, and he stills his fingers. You slide his hand down further, pressing the tips of his fingers inside you and he nods against you. You let your hand fall away as he starts to press two fingers inside you, pumping them softly to ease them in until his knuckles rest against you. He shifts you in his arms to get a better angle, curling around you slightly as he thrusts them up, curling them and catching against your g-spot.

              “That,” you stutter, “like that,”

              He grins, “There you are,”

              “Fuck,” you stammer, dropping your head against his chest, one hand tight against his bare thigh.

              He pumps his fingers faster, spurned on every time you gasp and moan. You shudder against him, hiding your face in his neck, tense pleasure curling up inside you. You rock your hips against his hand and he lets you help set the pace, but you can’t reach it. He feels incredible, better than anything you’ve done in months, but just like before it feels like you’re standing on the edge looking over and can’t reach.

              He presses up against your g-spot, rocking his hand and spiking a line of pleasure up your chest but when it passes, it passes. “Yunho,” you pant, and he shushes you, mistaking your words for encouragement.

              “Yunho,” you reach down and catch his wrist, pushing his hand away and he pulls his fingers from you.

              “What?” He murmurs, pushing back your hair and shifting so he can see your face, “you ok?”

              “Yeah,”

              “I thought I had you close, why’d you stop me?” he smooths a hand up your side.

              “You did,” you assure him, “I just couldn’t get there,”

              He dips his head to kiss you, his thumb massaging soothing circles into your hip, “Let’s try something else,”

              “It’s okay,” you brush him off, “let me get you off and then we can,”

              “y/n,” he interrupts you, “I didn’t think it would be that easy. Come on, lay back,” he eases you into the sheets and you scramble up, leaning on your elbows as he shifts out of bed, “where’s your vibrator?”

              “What?” Your cheeks flame.

              “We’ve lived together for months,” he explains, his gaze direct, “I’ve heard it, so come on, where is it?”

              You throw an arm over your face and groan, “Bottom drawer of my nightstand.”

              “See? Not so hard,” He shrugs it off and and you hear him pad out into the hall and through the door to your bedroom.

              While he’s gone you recover your breath, he was right, he did have you close. You were so frustrated and desperate for it at this point you didn’t know what to do, but when you see him return with a serious smirk you blush harder.

              “You’ve got a little collection going,” he says, “but this one’s industrial.” He holds up the wand and gives you a cheeky grin.

              “Oh my God, I really hate you,”

              “You really, really don’t.” He shifts back onto the bed and pulls back the covers a bit, “Now, I have some clever ideas on what to do with this, but I’m in no rush.” He tosses it against the mattress and shifts back over top of you.

              “You’re really having fun with this, aren’t you?” You nudge his chest.

              “Yeah,” he replies, “I definitely am,”

              Wrapped up like this, you feel closer to him that you’ve felt with anyone in a long, long time. You smile, kissing his shoulder softly and looking back up to meet his eyes, “Thank you, by the way.”

              “For what?” He asks.

              “Making this fun,” you tell him honestly.

              “Sex is supposed to be fun,” he replies, “and I don’t know what has you so tense, but you’re okay with me. I’ve got you,”

              It’s things like that that make you worry this might have been a bad idea after all, dangerous words for someone so close to the edge of falling in love with their best friend.

              You nod, not trusting your words for a minute, so you pull him back down for a kiss. You’re lazy and slow together, the kisses alone helping reignite some of the heat in your core, his hands, and the way they caress you making you wetter again by the second. You slide a hand between your bodies, reaching for him now and find his hard length pressed along your inner thigh. When you shift, closing your hand around his cock, he hisses against your mouth and pulls his head back.

              “Holy shit,” he groans, watching as you stroke your hand up from the base of his cock upwards, your thumb sliding over the head and smearing the pearl of pre-cum across it. Your hand looks small wrapped around him, and your muscles clench up at the thought that at some point tonight, you’d be fitting him inside you.

              “Here,” your hand leaves him for a moment so you can push at his shoulder, urging him to lay back, “let me take care of you,”

              He complies but shakes his head, “I’m not done with you,”

              “I never said you were,” you brush his hands away from you and slide down his body now that he’s flat on his back. His cock stands up perfectly straight and straining, and you’re not quite sure just how many inches he is but you know you’re going to struggle to take him in your mouth.

              You lick a stripe up his length, from base to tip, and watch as his head rolls instantly back against the pillows. He groans when you do it again, and when you hold him again in your hand and slide your lips over the tip of him to take just the first bit of him in your mouth, his hips jerk slightly.

              “Sorry,” he says, “fuck, sorry, it’s been way too fucking long,”

              You hum, a little laugh, and the vibrations make him groan again and he fists the sheets beneath him by his hips. You bob your head experimentally, seeing how much of him you can take, your mouth stretched around him and the head of his cock bumping the back of your throat. It’s uncomfortable, but not unpleasant, so you flatten your tongue along the underside of him and drag your head up and down again. You ghost your nails softly along his thighs as you suck him, hollowing out your cheeks and pulling back up to flick your tongue firmly against his tip again.

              He moans softly when you dip your head low again, taking as much of him as possible, but still not reaching the base of him. Your gag reflex fires a little and you cough around him, easing back up to give your throat a chance to adjust and blink back the sudden sensation of tears. You’re doing your best to even out your breathing through your nose and slide back down his length again when his hand snakes into your hair and he pulls you up and off him.

              “What, what’s wrong?” You look up to him, blinking fast, but the look he’s giving you now isn’t like before.

              “I’m not going to last like that,” he says, pulling you forwards and rolling you underneath him, “and I need to be inside you right fucking now.”

              He pushes your legs open with his hand and runs his fingers up your wet slit, rocking your clit a few times and eliciting a shaky moan from your lips. You nod fast, “Please,”

              He lines himself up with your entrance, catching the head of his cock on your clit, “Wait, wait, are you safe, should I,”

              “I’m good,” you insist, “I have an IUD, just please come here,”

              He’s slow when he pushes into you, incredibly cognizant of his size and the experience he’s had with past partners, but at the feeling of your walls pressing tight around him he pauses, dropping his head to your shoulder, “Oh fuck,”

              “Yunho,” you wriggle your hips, the feeling of him stretching you better than anything, “don’t stop,”

              He bites down on your shoulder softly, groaning as he pushes further, and when he’s halfway in he pulls away to check you, “You okay?”

              “Please,” you pull at his hips, desperate for him to be closer, “I need you,”

              “Fuck, baby,” he breathes as he watches the rest of his cock disappear inside you.

              You’re impossibly full, warm in places you didn’t know could be warm, feeling tiny sparks of pleasure with every minute shift of his hips. This is exactly what you needed, the full feeling of his cock buried deep inside you and his whispered words in your ear.

              “You gotta move,” you beg him.

              He pulls out almost completely and dives his hips back in, sinking himself as far as he can go and knocking your hips together. “You’re fucking incredible,” he pants as he pistons his hips again, “you take me so fucking well,”

              You choke at his words, arching up against him as he starts to fuck you faster. He kisses you hard, one hand tightly on your cheek and the other locked on your hip as he thrusts, “like you were fucking made for me,” he says against your mouth.

              “Oh, God,” you grip his arms, holding him to you as you rock your hips back up in time to meet each move of his hips.

              “You need me to tell you?” He manages, his lips hot against your ear as he covers you, his sweat slick body hot and heavy over you, filling you, “Do you want me to tell you how good you’re being for me?”

              Your broken moan tells him everything he needs to know, and he pushes the damp hair back from your face to watch you, your eyes screwing shut at his words, shocks of pleasure running up from your core to your chest.   

              “So good for me,” he murmurs again, dipping his fingers between your lips.

              You close your lips around them immediately, running your tongue across them, tasting yourself on his skin. When you open your eyes he’s staring down at you in awe, his brows tight together, mouth open and tensed, his eyes rolling when you take the length of his fingers in your mouth and suck on them gently.

              “Fuck,” he pants, and his pace falters, he pulls his fingers free and repositions, and when he drives into you with a well angled thrust that drags perfectly along your walls you rock back with a cry. Yunho catches your bottom teeth with his thumb and drags your head back down to keep your eyes on him. He’s close, you can feel it, but so are you. He draws your gaze, “say my name, baby,”

              “Oh,” you pant, “fuck, oh, fuck,”

              “My name,” he repeats, “say it,”

              You try, but it gets caught in your throat when he slams back into you and you whimper, your nails digging into his back.

              “Tell me,” he pumps his hips again, “you can do it,”

              With a gasp he pulls down on your hair, tugging your scalp with just the right pressure, “Yunho, Yunho, Yunho,” you chant, the knot of pleasure so tight in your belly you’re sure you’re going to burst, “please, please, baby, please,”

              When he pulls away from you, out of you, the cry that leaves your lips is desperate. He’s quick though, folding a pillow in half and lifting you like you weigh nothing, propping your hips up high at an angle you know is going to ruin you. He reaches across you and from the tangled sheets he pulls your vibrator out and clicks it on.

              “Yunho, I don’t,” you start and watch as he gets the setting right.

              “Shh,” he interrupts, stifling your soft whines, “you wanted to come,”

              You cry out when he sinks back into you, this new angle putting pressure in new places and stirring a sensation deep in your core. He rocks his hips, holding your thigh with one hand to grip you steady and gets his positioning right so that he can stay comfortable on his knees and thrust up into you just right. When he eases the vibrator down onto your clit you’re brain whites out, the sensations blending together in a haze.      

              “Oh fuck,” he manages, “tell me you’re close,”

              You whine an incoherent response, looking up at him through hazy eyes.

              “Yeah, you are,” he smiles, never slowing his hips, “just a little more, I want you to come for me, can you be good for me?”

              It slams into without warning, wrenching your body up and arched against him, your thighs a shaking mess. Distantly you hear his low voice, “Let go, that’s my pretty girl.” You can feel the flush of blush run up your chest to your cheeks, and when you’ve ridden it through and he doesn’t lift the vibrator you jerk your hands down, writhing and pushing it away.

              “One more,” he says, but you shake your head, “No?”

              “Yunho,” you shake your head desperately, pushing the vibrator away, the sensation far too much for the level of overstimulation, “please, I can’t,”

              “Okay, okay,” he clicks it off and tosses it aside, his hips still rolling into you just more slowly now, “I’ve got you,”

              “Come here,” you drag him towards you desperately, and he comes back down to lay across you, “please I want you,”

              “Fuck,” he chants again, “I won’t last,”

              “Come,” you urge him, holding him close and rolling your hips with his, “please, I need it,”

              He speeds up, desperate and panting, his forehead pressed against yours. When he rocks downwards, collapsing his weight a little further onto you, the angle of your bodies still propped up by the folded pillow has his cock drag perfectly over your g-spot again and you shake against him, gripping him tight and whining as another orgasm washes over you.

              When you clench down around him for the second time he jerks into you twice more, coming hard and hot inside you, your name on his lips on a loop. Your ears are ringing, your body boneless and you can barely catch your breath. When he moves to slide out of you, you whimper, and he looks down at you.

              “Oh my God,” he pants, rolling onto his side and gathering you up in his arms to lock you against his chest, “come here,”

              You shift as close to him as you can, feeling like you need every inch of his skin on yours. You’re already lolling in and out of a dazed sleep when his voice brings you back. “Hey,” his fingers stroke your cheek, “you’re okay?”

              “Okay?” You crack open your eyes, “I’m fucking fantastic,”

              “I didn’t hurt you?” He brushes a hand down your hip.   

              You shake your head and cup his cheek, “Perfect, you were perfect,”

              He grins, “I’ll remember you said that.”

              “Don’t you dare be smug right now,” you slap his chest softly, letting your eyes slip closed again.

              “I won’t,” he says, his voice shifting softer, and he nuzzles the side of your face, pressing kisses to your cheek, “That was… we should do that again,”

              “I don’t think we should ever stop doing that,” you agree, glancing up at him.

              He squeezes you tight, “Give me like twenty minutes,”

              “Yun, I’m kidding,” you hide your face in his chest, shaking your head as he laughs above you.

              “I’m not,”

              You smooth a hand down his arm, snuggling against him and closing your eyes again, “Let’s sleep first. Sleep and then I’ll let you do whatever you want to me forever,”

              He chuckles, the vibration of his low laugh against your cheek where you’re pressed against his chest, “Deal,” he says, “I’ll remember that too.”

~end~

a/n: i'm working on a companion piece to this since i'm just so soft for boyfy college yunho, so keep an eye out for that. for those of you looking for into the aurora chapters, i'm working on it too! new content will be posted soon, i'm just in a bit of a yunho mood.

update: sequel is now posted here!

The Way to His Heart [12]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 11 | Fic Masterlist | Part 13

Prince Yeosang.

The fourth son born to the King and Queen of Joseon, was among the most widely recognised princes in the nation, though not for reasons one might consider positive. Unlike his numerous brothers and sisters, he adamantly resisted marriage despite reaching a suitable age.

But of course, his singledom was not the main reason for the constant chatter about him. The real cause for the heightened attention was the prominent birthmark beside his left eye.

In Joseon, beauty held immense significance, particularly for members of the royal family, who were deemed superior and held to higher standards than the commoners. Consequently, the prince's distinctive mark marked him as an anomaly within the royal lineage.

Throughout his life, Yeosang had been accustomed to the constant scrutiny that came with being perceived as a defect. From what he understood, even his own parents had reacted with alarm upon witnessing the sizable red birthmark on the side of his face when he was born. In reality, the mark didn't diminish his attractiveness, but societal taboos surrounding such markings led people to overlook his overall appeal and fixate solely on the spot.

As a result, he rejected all marriage proposals, having observed the disdainful glances directed at him by potential candidates. The thought of being wedded to someone who did not genuinely appreciate him was unappealing. Besides, he loathed the constant parade of pampered girls presented to him annually.

He would prefer to remain alone for the rest of his life than be tied down to any of those brats. Having always believed that no one could ever empathise with the pain of having such a mark on their face, he was more than astonished to discover you proudly displaying your scar. What's more, you stood in stark contrast to any of the snobbish noblewomen he had met.

It was when he was evading his many princely obligations meant to prepare him for the throne, despite being fourth in line, that he unexpectedly came across you, the beautiful stranger, while seeking a brief escape in the garden. For the first time in a long while, his heart quickened as he approached you, fearing he might lose sight of your enchanting presence.

"Allow me to express our deepest respect, Your Highness. This is Lady Park, the esteemed wife of General Park. Mistress, may I present to you Prince Yeosang." As if sensing his intentions, the servant standing beside you quickly clarified your identity.

However, if she thought this revelation would dissuade the fourth prince, she was sorely mistaken as Yeosang only smiled wider. So, you were the famous Miss Jang, currently the talk of the town. Knowing that you were here only to discuss wedding arrangements, he deduced that you and the general were not yet properly wedded.

That meant not all hope was lost for him.

Your eyes widened at Eunsook's words, the realisation sinking in that you were in the presence of a prince. Without wasting another second, you performed the formal bow you had practised countless times with the head maid before visiting the palace. Greeting the prince respectfully, you maintained the poise and grace befitting your status as the general's wife, "It is my greatest honour to be in your presence, Your Highness. Forgive this humble subject for failing to recognise you."

Up close, Yeosang's admiration for you only intensified. The genuine respect you demonstrated meant more to him than you would ever know. The prince had rarely been shown sincerity, and he knew then that he was right about your purity. Unlike any other noblewoman, you didn't eye him with even the slightest hint of disgust.

She's the one.

"Please rise, Miss Jang. It is quite alright; no harm is done. If anything, it feels very refreshing not to be recognised in an instant." He extended a hand to assist you, gently lifting you from your bow. Your eyes widened in wonder, and you offered him a grateful smile, not recalling Eunsook mentioning this part of the greeting.

Meanwhile, the head maid was in a state of panic, realising that the prince seemed interested in you. He had disregarded your title as Lady Park and had taken the opportunity to be close to you. Seonghwa would not be pleased if he found out.

"I'll be honest, I have yet to meet anyone who adores flowers as much as I do. It's almost as if fate brought us together." Yeosang said, chuckling as he took in your eyes sparkling with sincere enthusiasm. You seemed innocently happy just to make a new friend.

How precious.

"Would you care to take a stroll with me, my lady? I know of a perfect spot with a view that surpasses even this one."

Eunsook's stomach sank as you agreed to his invitation. It wasn't that she blamed you for being unfaithful to her master; she knew you were simply too clueless to see through the prince's intentions. Her concern was for the potential aftermath of the situation – what would happen if the general were to learn about Yeosang's interest in you and your willingness to spend time with him.

In another part of the palace at the War and Strategy Department building, the atmosphere was the furthest thing from peaceful as the words spoken by His Majesty weighed heavily on your husband's heart, "I'm so sorry, my boy. It seems your wedding will have to wait. Relations with the neighbouring nation, Ruhon, have not been very good lately. I fear war is inevitable this time, and... we need you."

Seonghwa sank into one of the chairs, his eyes blinking rapidly as he absorbed the weight of the words just spoken, "War...? H-how serious is the situation? And why haven't I been informed about the strained relations with Ruhon?"

San, taking a seat beside him, sighed and responded, "We've been attempting peace negotiations with them for months, but an agreement seems elusive. They've been making unreasonable demands. We didn't want to burden you with any of this at first, we wanted you to focus on your new marriage. But the situation has escalated, and it appears we're left with no choice but to prepare for the worst."

The King continued with a heavy heart, "Unfortunately, despite our efforts, we haven't been able to reach an agreement with Ruhon regarding their latest demands. They are now threatening to settle matters through force. We must start preparing and strategising immediately; their attack could come at any time."

The implications of the impending conflict raced through your husband's mind, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. The realisation that he would have to lead the army into battle overshadowed the joy of his recent marriage. Just when he thought things were finally looking up for the two of you, the looming threat of war cast a dark shadow over your lives.

He pressed a hand against his head, eyes shut tight, muttering, "I could be gone for months or even years..."

"I'm sorry, Seonghwa-yah. I know this is not what you expected, especially right after your marriage. I wish we didn't have to ruin your plans like this." The King apologised with a solemn expression.

With a shake of his head, the general replied, "No, Your Majesty, I understand the gravity of the situation. My duty lies in protecting this nation. I promise I won't let anything jeopardise its safety, even if it means altering my personal plans."

Nodding, the ruler pursed his lips appreciatively, "We thank you for your dedication, General Park. We'll need you to lead our forces and devise a strategy to repel the impending threat from Ruhon."

"I'll do everything in my power to safeguard our country, my King. You have my word." Seonghwa knew that safeguarding his nation also meant keeping his own wife safe. As much as he hated it, there was no time to dwell on the disappointment of the changed plans; he needed to get to work immediately.

Transitioning into his professional demeanour, he interlocked his hands as he met the gaze of the ruler of Joseon, "When is my deployment to the war zone scheduled?"

His Majesty sighed deeply before answering him, "You have a few days to spend with your wife; the troops are still establishing the base as we speak. You can head over when it's ready. General Officer Song has also been notified and will be there to start strategising in detail with you by then."

Following the finalisation of the main details, the meeting came to a close. As the general prepared to leave, the King stopped him once more. Before he could offer yet another apology, Seonghwa intervened, "You don't owe me any apology, Your Majesty. None of this is your fault; you've done your best to protect your people. Now it's my turn to perform my duty. I... I only have one thing to ask of you while I'm gone..."

The ruler nodded, aware of the request that would follow, "I ask that you watch over my wife for me and make sure she's well protected until my return," His Majesty agreed, a hand squeezing your husband's shoulder, "Of course, my boy. You don't even have to ask."

As your husband headed towards the cherry blossom garden to find you, the unexpected sight of you with the fourth prince caught him off guard. Suppressing a sigh, he shook his head, preventing another wave of irrational jealousy from taking over. He reminded himself that, as San had assured him, you were his. Perhaps, he reasoned, you were simply making new friends.

Moreover, he recalled Prince Yeosang's firm stance on not settling down. Seonghwa reassured himself that there should be nothing more to this than platonic bonding.

Catching sight of her master approaching, Eunsook's panic began to seize her. Mentally preparing herself for the incoming wrath, she knew he wouldn't be pleased to see you spending time with another man. Turning back to you, she hoped to catch your attention, intending to warn you of his presence. However, you were too engrossed in your conversation with the prince, discussing your favourite flowers.

"I think my favourite might be the lotus flower, but that's probably because my husband has dedicated an entire pond full of it to me." The general's heart swelled with affection at your words, confirming that his trust in you was well-placed.

That's my girl.

Before the prince could respond and tell you that he could give you so much more, Seonghwa had finally arrived behind you.

"You're here, master," The head maid greeted, but he waved her off and bowed at Yeosang, "Yes, I'm here now. Thank you for keeping my wife company while I was busy, Your Highness. If there is nothing else, we will be taking our leave now."

Brightening up at your husband's presence, you stepped over to him, and he instinctively circled an arm around your back. Despite the enjoyable time with your new friend, the instant comfort of being with Seonghwa made you feel at home again. The fourth prince's eye twitched at the interaction, but he did his best to maintain a smile on his handsome face.

The elderly woman was genuinely surprised; she blinked as she tried to comprehend her master's calm demeanour. It was unexpected, especially considering how unhappy he had been when you were around Yunho and San. But she found relief in not witnessing him explode or resort to his usual passive-aggressive self.

"Ahh yes, General Park, off to make arrangements for your upcoming wedding ceremony, I presume?" The prince's tone carried a hint of smugness, almost as if he were privy to some knowledge.

Your husband's expression dimmed at the reminder; there would be no wedding plans for some time. Mustering a cordial smile, he bowed lightly, "Something along those lines, Your Highness." He had no intention of breaking the news to you in this manner, and he certainly didn't feel obligated to provide Yeosang with any explanations, so a little fabrication wouldn't hurt.

As if on cue, a few palace servants finally caught up to the prince, out of breath, "There you are, Your Highness! Please don't make our jobs any more difficult than they already are. Will you return to the library with us? The royal tutor is still waiting for you." Yeosang sighed and reluctantly turned to bid you goodbye.

"Very well then. It was nice talking to you, Miss Jang. I hope to see you again. And you, General Park." You and Seonghwa bowed politely as he left the garden with the poor servants trailing miserably behind.

The general did his best to brush aside the prince's borderline irritating behaviour, particularly the way he insisted on addressing you as Miss Jang despite your change in marital status. In the grand scheme of things, such trivialities held no importance now. Chances were slim that you would ever meet Prince Yeosang again, given the impending war and the duties that awaited your husband.

With a deep breath, he focused on the immediate task at hand – spending precious moments with you before he had to leave for the war. Gently tucking a strand of stray hair behind your ear, he offered a warm smile, "Come, my love. Let's make our way home."

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you questioned, "We're heading home already? Aren't we supposed to meet His and Her Majesty?" The head maid shared your astonishment; she was equally puzzled.

Seonghwa let out a small sigh and nodded, "Yes, there's been a change of plans. I'll explain on our way home."

As you walked back to the waiting carriage, your husband's mind raced with thoughts of how to break the news to you. You had only just overcome a traumatising ordeal and were finally getting your happily ever after. The daunting task of telling you that he would have to leave for war for an indefinite amount of time loomed over him. He wondered about your possible reactions and couldn't shake the uncertainty of whether he would return.

Despite being the great General Park, he couldn't escape the reality that, at the end of the day, he was still human.

Settling down into the vehicle, you noticed your husband staring anxiously out the window, lost in thought. Placing a hand over his, you softly called out, "Seonghwa," When he turned to meet your concerned gaze, you inquired, "What is it? What was the emergency meeting about?" He grasped your hands, squeezing them, as he prepared himself to share the news with you.

"I... I'm so sorry, my love, but our wedding ceremony will have to be postponed... indefinitely," As disappointing as that was, you wanted to know the actual reason, so you nodded and waited for him to continue, "That's because... there is an incoming war."

He didn't need to elaborate for you to grasp the situation immediately. Naturally, it meant he would have to go and fight. As the most promising general in all of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior, if it wasn't him going off to fight, then who else? Your heart clenched uncomfortably at the revelation, but you understood it was only part of his job, so you smiled reassuringly at him, "Oh... I-I understand, Seonghwa. Wh-when are you leaving then?"

Raising his brows in surprise, it took him a minute to react, "W-wait, are you not upset with any of this? I will be leaving you, and it could be for months or even years... and you're okay with it?"

You sighed shakily, the smile now dropping.

"Of course, I'm not okay with it... If only it were possible, I would like to keep you all to myself, but it's your job to defend the nation. You're General Park, and I'm so proud of you for that. You've won so many battles; I'm certain this will be another easy victory for you. As your wife, I will do my duty to safeguard our home until your return."

Just as he believed his love for you couldn't deepen further, your words proved him wrong. He felt incredibly fortunate to have such an understanding wife. He should have known better; he didn't know why he expected you to throw a tantrum. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and pushing your head into the crook of his neck, "You're right; I'm an idiot. I hope you know you're not making it any easier for me to leave you."

Despite the tears welling up in your eyes, you chuckled, trying to maintain a positive outlook amid the looming dread. Inside, you were trembling, and letting him go was the last thing you wanted. Yet, you had to face your reality, "You haven't answered me, Seonghwa. When are you leaving?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, tightening his hold around you before whispering, "In a few days, my love. A few days."

« Preview of Part 13 »

"Your Majesty, the fourth prince requests an audience with you." The Queen arched an eyebrow, surprised that her most rebellious son would willingly seek to meet her. She had anticipated him doing everything in his power to avoid her due to her constant nagging for him to settle down.

"Hm, does he now? Allow him to enter."

With a deep bow, the eunuch complied, "Yes, Your Majesty, as you wish," before exiting the Queen's chambers to fetch her son.

"The fourth prince, Your Majesty," Yeosang made a grand entrance with a half-hearted bow and greeting, "It's been a while, Mother."

Her Majesty snorted in disbelief, but it no longer surprised her. He had always been the most disobedient among all of her children. She tried to be understanding, acknowledging that his life hadn't been as easy as his other siblings due to the birthmark on his face. This understanding explained her leniency with his attitude.

"What a surprise, Yeosang. To what do I owe the pleasure, my son? If this is regarding more funds or approval for another one of your expeditions out of the palace, you can forget it. I don't want to hear it unless you're telling me you wish to get married—"

With a smirk, the prince crossed his arms over his chest, "That's exactly what I am here for, Mother. I came to tell you I have changed my mind and would agree to get married, on one condition."

The Queen immediately straightened in her seat, wondering if she had heard him wrong, "Y-you're willing to get married?" He nodded, and she widened her eyes, "Name it; what is your condition?"

"It has to be the eldest Miss Jang promised to General Park Seonghwa. It's her or nothing, Mother."

Y'all, my new and final semester of uni starts next week. Here's a heads-up; updates are probably not going to be as frequent, but I will do my best! Also, I apologise if this part felt like a filler chapter HAHA gotta let the drama build up slowly.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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SATURDAY | Seven | smg xf!reader

You love when I jump right in All of me I'm offering Show you what devotion is Deeper than the ocean is

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1.8k | Pairing: smg x f!reader | Genre: smut, romance

Warnings: biting/marking, praise kink, oral f. rec., fingering, kitchen sex

Reader Notes: wears skirts and dresses, has breasts and a vagina, gets lifted by mingi

Mingi leans over the sauce pan and takes in a deep breath through his nose to check the garlic and shallots as they saute over low heat. They need a couple more minutes to become fragrant, and those minutes give Mingi just enough time to get the rest of his ingredients out. A tube of tomato paste, a few tablespoons of vodka, and a cup of heavy cream are lined up on the counter, along with a block of parmesan and some butter. 

He opens and squeezes the tomato paste into the sizzling sauce pan just as you breeze into the kitchen wrapped in a towel, your skin dewy and your hair up. 

“How long do I have?” You ask, wrapping your hand around his elbow and leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Twenty or so minutes,” he estimates, stirring the paste into the aromatics until the mixture smooths out before turning his head and stealing a real kiss. You giggle into his mouth, cupping his face with lotion-soft hands and kissing him breathless, and then you pull away. 

You pull away, and Mingi is too dazed to catch you as you dart from the kitchen. He just stands there, one hand wrapped around a wooden spoon and the other holding the handle of the pan, and tries to remember what he was doing before you came in. 

He was cooking, he knows that, but where in the recipe was he? What steps are left? There’s cooked pasta on the counter, so he did that already, at least. There’s also an uncapped tube of tomato paste and oh, that’s where he was. 

It’s simmered more than long enough by now, and he slowly pours in the vodka to deglaze the pan, stirring until it’s all evaporated before adding the pasta water he kept. He lets it come back to a boil as he stirs, the mixture becoming smooth and bright and fragrant. 

“Okay, outfit number one,” your voice sounds behind him, and he tries to contain the rush of giddiness that comes when he realizes you’re going to give him a fashion show. You don’t do it often, just when you’re having a date night in and you have the energy, so Mingi absolutely adores these nights. The twinkle in your eye, the extra pep in your step, the cute little twirls you do to show off the whole outfit, he loves it all. 

He turns in place and attempts to keep his face smooth, to pretend to be critical, as he takes you in. You’re wearing a short, light pink dress, with lace and little embroidered strawberries and bows on the straps, and as you spin for him, he notices you’ve got matching bows in your hair. You look gorgeous, adorable, radiant, and he doesn’t even have to think to say, “One million out of ten, baby.”

He reaches for your hips, only to feel his face fall in a pout when you skip out of the way and out of the room, calling, “Next!” over your shoulder as you go. Sighing, he returns to dinner and tries to figure out where he was again. 

The cup of pasta water is empty, so it must be time to add the cream. He stirs as he pours, reducing the heat when the sauce has smoothed out and opening up the parmesan to start grating it. 

“Outfit number two!” You sing as you glide into view, wearing one of his favorite tops and a skirt he hasn’t seen before. His hands freeze as he looks you up and down, his heart racing at the sight of you. The shirt is light, buttery yellow silk, and something about the way it molds to your tits always makes Mingi’s head spin. It goes perfectly with the white, flowy skirt you chose, the whole outfit making you look like sunshine embodied. 

It’s just as sweet as the last, but with a different vibe, and Mingi wonders what the final outfit will be. He doesn’t even try to touch you this time, knowing both that you’re too quick for him and that he’s got cheese hands. Instead he beams and says, “Fuckin’ beautiful, baby.”

You preen at his words, your pleased little smile pushing your cheeks up as you smooth your hands down your body, ironing out invisible wrinkles. 

“You’ve got ten minutes,” he warns before you can ask, giving the sauce a stir and returning to his cheese grating when you squeak and fly away. He misses you instantly but reminds himself you’ll be back before he knows it. Dinner requires his attention anyway, the parm and butter just sitting there, waiting to be added. 

Both go into the bubbling sauce, along with some fresh ground salt and pepper, and as he lets it all meld together, he starts cleaning up. With just a minute to spare, you rush into the kitchen, sliding on socked feet and stealing his breath. 

You’re wearing thigh high socks. That’s literally all Mingi can register. He doesn’t know what else you’re wearing, can’t hear what you’re saying, doesn’t even notice the timer going off. All he knows is you’re wearing thigh high socks, and he’s so gone for you. 

He only drags his gaze from your legs when you start moving toward him, his arms opening on instinct as you step into his space and reach up. He’s not sure what you’re doing, but you could do anything to him and he’d be happy about it, thankful even. He’s a little disappointed when he finds that you were just turning off the microwave timer, but he’ll survive if it means he gets to keep looking at you.

“I guess this one’s your favorite?” You tease, switching the burner to low and turning in a slow circle for him. Finally, he takes in the rest of your outfit, a cute little pajama set, and his face crumples in defeat when he sees the way your knit shorts hug your ass. 

“Fuck, baby. Yeah, this one’s my favorite,” he practically groans, his hands burning with the desire to touch, to take, to consume. He abandons the stove, the wooden spoon clattering onto the spoon rest as he takes you by the hips and lifts you to sit on the freshly cleaned island. 

Your hands fly to his shoulders, holding tight and keeping him close when he starts to pull away. 

“Lemme eat you out, baby. Hm?” Mingi murmurs in your ear, pressing kisses down your throat as he waits for your answer. 

“Shouldn’t we eat dinner first?” You ask halfheartedly, tilting your head to the side to give him better access. 

“This is our place, baby, we make the rules. If we want dessert before dinner, we can have dessert before dinner,” he speaks low and slow, feeling very much like the devil on your shoulder and not minding at all. 

“Okay,” you shrug and sigh happily, blissfully, a smile brightening your voice as he tugs you right up to the edge of the counter. Your hands fall away from his shoulders to brace behind your back, your hips lifting when he curls his fingertips in the waistband of your shorts and starts to pull. 

He’s careful pulling them over your socks, folds them up and places them next to you on the island before sinking to his knees and biting a mark into your inner thigh, just above where the socks pinch. 

“Why have I never seen these before?” He asks softly, running his hands over your calves and wrapping his hands around your ankles to spread your legs wider. 

“They’re new, I bought them with the set I wore on Tuesday,” you gasp as he takes hold of one leg and hefts it up onto his shoulder, doing the same with your other leg before nuzzling into your pussy and taking a deep breath. 

“I fuckin’ love them,” he mutters against you, knowing you can feel his words better than you can hear them. 

“Good, I bought them for you.” 

He thanks you by licking through your folds to find your clit, a loud moan leaving his lips as soon as your taste hits his tongue. He wonders how long you’ve been wet, if you started off your little fashion show with damp panties and wicked intent, or if every wardrobe change made you hotter. 

He’s not curious enough to tear himself away from you, too entranced by your weeping pussy to even consider pulling away long enough to ask. All he cares about is getting more of you on his tongue, in his mouth, on his face. 

He wants you all over him, and with determined fingers, he starts to search for the spot that will make you gush. He knows he’s got it when you buck into his touch and curl up around him, whimpering his name in a voice that makes his cock twitch. 

The ache is distracting, and he reaches down to undo his jeans, pushing them and his boxers down just far enough for his dick to pop out. He sighs in relief as he tucks them under his balls, squeezing the base of his cock once just to tide himself over, the feeling of your walls wrapping around his fingers making it throb. 

He grinds into that spongy patch with his fingertips and slides his tongue from your clit to your entrance to catch the arousal that seeps out, an encouraging groan leaving him as he swallows you down. He’s never been more thankful for his nose, the size and shape of it perfect for you to rub your clit against while he shoves his tongue inside you along with his fingers. 

Your cunt clamps down like you don’t want him to move, but he knows that just means you’re getting close, knows he should fuck you through the tightness, knows you can take it even though your socked thighs are trembling on his shoulders and you’re crying like you can’t. 

“You can do it, baby. You can cum for me, I know you can,” Mingi pulls his tongue out to coo roughly, his fingertips still working your g-spot. You open one teary eye, peeking down at him, and he grins sharply, his lips swollen and shiny with you, before he wraps them around your clit and sucks hard. 

The sound is obscene but the result is divine, a rush of wetness flowing out of your fluttering cunt  as you writhe in pleasure above him, your whimpers and soaking wet pussy making his dick throb against his thigh. 

He could stop, but his knees don’t hurt yet and his tongue still works, so why should he?

Dinner will hold, and if it doesn’t, there’s always takeout. 

pls reblog if you enjoyed!! as always, i would love to hear your thoughts 💖

Seven Masterlist

My Masterlist

tries my hand at another alignment chart

stray kids

oh we’re fucked LMAOOOOOOOO (locking all doors and windows as we speak)

SAN GET OUT LOCK HIS INTERNET SOMEONE HACK HIS ASS AND BLOCK TUMBLR FROM HIM!!

IM KEEPING YALL SAFE WITH ME!!!!