#jumin han smut

[astridthevalkyrie]

honeymoon period | jumin han x reader

After Jumin marries you, slowly, his threads start to untangle.

a/n: my first and probably last long jumin fic. this has been in the works for months, literally what i've been stalling on superior for (pre keigo 😭) i hope you all enjoy! i love this man <3

warnings: afab reader with she/her pronouns, some depressing thoughts, smut, oral (m and f receiving), penetrative sex, references to kinks that they both have, references/nightmares about abuse including sexual harassment, insecurity, jumin's comedy lol

word count: 13.2k (only a little less than the last superior chapter that is cray cray)

There is a knock on your door.

It makes you jump. Not that you’re nervous—it’s a hotel and several of your friends and family are here to see you get married, so naturally many of them know where your room is. The room itself is, of course, lavish, a paradise compared to most of your previous lodgings. Honestly, you miss the penthouse.

No, that’s not quite right. You just miss being curled up on the couch, tucked into Jumin’s chest with Elizabeth on your lap, wine on his lips and love in his eyes. You miss him, even though you saw him last this morning. You know he’s in the hotel lobby being forced to get wasted by Luciel, because the hacker in question has sent you dozens of videos of your fiancé. In one of them, when Zen reminds him he’s getting married tomorrow, a goofy smile breaks out on his face as he ducks his head.

Maybe the wedding wasn’t necessary. Maybe you two could have just signed the necessary papers without having to go a full day without seeing each other. How are you supposed to sleep tonight? You could call him, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Sighing, you make your way to the door. If it’s one of your friends trying to convince you to let loose or a family member coming to check up on you, you’re not in the mood.

When you open the door, your fiancé is standing there.

“Jumin!”

All questions on the tip of your tongue disappear when he brings you into his arms, burying his face in your neck with a content sigh. There’s no urgency in it, just a quiet, sudden happiness, like he’s fully aware that in just a few hours he won’t have to worry about you being anywhere but in his arms again.

“Thank you.” His voice breaks the silence, muffled on your skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your eyes well up with tears. What an emotional bride you’re turning out to be. And what a wonderful groom you have, to somehow know exactly what you need even when he’s not completely sober.

Slowly, you wrap your arms around him as well, breathing in the scent of his shampoo as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re welcome, Jumin.”

///

There has never been a lovelier sight than your smile, and Jumin hopes you know that.

If you don’t, he’ll just have to convince you.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You’re sporting a grin for him—just for him—wearing nothing but one of his shirts with Elizabeth the Third scurrying out from between your feet when she sees him. There’s a pink bottle on the counter. Frosting, he thinks. “I hope you don’t mind, but having a chef cook for us for a month straight has ruined my palate for anything else. I had to cook for myself again before I got spoiled. I can call him to make you dinner if you don’t want to eat what I made, though!”

“Of course not.” The urge to embrace you is unbearable. A month after the wedding, and his first day back at work after the honeymoon, he still can’t seem to keep his hands off. “What did you make? I’ll eat anything.”

He leans down to take Elizabeth the Third in his arms, scratching the back of her head softly. “Alright! I made stew and baked some cupcakes, I hope you like it. But you should probably change first. Slip into something more comfortable.”

“Ironic, considering you and I are wearing the same thing.���

“Well…” You lean over the counter, making a show of ogling him. “If you really want to match, you can leave the shirt on and take off your pants.”

It’s impossible to even try and stop the smile growing on his face. “Would you like that?”

“Come over here and find out, hubby.”

The nickname makes him flush pleasantly, but instead of taking you up on that extremely tempting offer, he simply walks up and presses a kiss to your forehead. You pout, and with the tact of knowing Elizabeth is still in his arms, you tug on his tie and kiss him properly. Jumin’s brain turns off, if only for a few seconds. As long as you kiss him and he kisses you back, the only thing he knows is you, you, you and nothing else.

Now, instead of changing, he’s holding his cat and kissing you in the kitchen. With just a minor breakaway and murmured apology, he’s no longer holding his cat. His hands slide around your back and pull you in, and your hands meet at the base of his neck. You. Only you. 

“Ju-min,” you admonish breathlessly, the second he pulls away to trail hurried kisses down your neck. “Dinner first.”

“Mm. I’m not hungry.” Or he is, but not for dinner.

Your hands come to rest on his chest, but you don’t pull away, and Jumin is beyond grateful. He doesn’t want to eat, doesn’t want to sleep or shower or do anything else when he could be showing you just how much he’d missed you at work today. 

Slightly pressed into the counter, you place your hands back and jump onto it, and he eagerly steps in between your legs to kiss you again. Your legs wrap around his waist and your hands tangle in his hair—a habit of yours, he’s noticed, to mess his hair up. He doesn’t mind. Not if it makes you happy. 

Finally, you pull away and before he can dive back in for yet another kiss, you dip your finger into the bowl next to you and offer it up to him. Without even considering it, he takes your finger in between his lips and licks the gravy off.

It’s only after he registers the taste does Jumin realize how intimate the action is. And of course, he knows that you’re married, that you and he have seen each other absolutely bare and open to one another, that he is literally making out with you in his—in your—in your shared kitchen. He knows that despite everyone thinking that the marriage was rushed and impulsive, this will be a long road, and he plans to stick by you for each and every single step. He knows that tasting something off your finger is hardly the most domestic thing you two will do.

But it doesn’t stop the flurry of butterflies he feels in his stomach. It doesn’t stop him from thinking my wife is letting me taste what she made, because she’s perfect. That’s not to mention how wonderful the taste actually is.

“Good?” you question, with gleaming eyes.

“Incredible.” He takes your hand and dips your finger in the bowl, stealing another taste right after. “More than incredible. The best stew I’ve ever had.”

“I know you’re flattering me.” Leaning forward, you take his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. Softly, gently, like he’s something fragile that will break if you use any force. “But I’m not complaining. Keep going.”

“Food is always better when a beautiful woman is the one serving it.”

You beam. The butterflies in his stomach do a victory soar.

Jumin Han is in love.

///

Zen has a dream about you. That’s when the problem starts.

He tells it to the group in great detail—it’s not anything romantic or sexual, but Jumin doesn’t see a reason for you to be in his subconscious at all, even if you were just the supposed director for Zen’s dream movie. You’re not any sort of movie director, so the dream is ridiculous at any rate.

It doesn’t stop him from pouncing on you the second you two get back home. You don’t even get to take a seat before he’s pressing you against the door, ensuring it’s locked (the last thing he needs is for one of the security guards to see this and have dreams about you too) and kissing you possessively. 

“Jumin—?” There’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but it cuts off into a delicious moan when he starts sucking and biting all the same spots he knows he left hickeys on during your honeymoon. 

“Spend the day with me,” he whispers. “Just me, no one else.”

An amused giggle bubbles from your throat. “I was already gonna do that, honeybunny.”

Good. That’s plenty of time for him to mark up your neck (and other places) so that everyone knows you’re his, and other people can stop dreaming of you. Already his mind is filled with wicked thoughts, of how he can make you cry and beg and scream today. From the time you two spent on your honeymoon, he knows you can get quite loud if he puts his mind to it.

The only limit is his imagination.

“Jumin.” Your head tilts back against the door, eyes closed as his tongue soothes a bite mark he just made. “Ah, J-Jumin, are you jealous?”

“No.” He is.

“I know what possessiveness looks like.” You take his hand in yours and press a kiss to each fingertip. “You know that me being in Zen’s dream isn’t something in our or even his control?”

“Of course I know that.” He huffs, impatiently fiddling with the buttons on your shirt. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He kisses you again, and you hum in understanding, sliding your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. It’s amazing, no matter how many times he thinks everyone would dismiss him for being ridiculous over something like this, you are always there to prove that at least one person wouldn’t. And you taste. So. Damn. Good. 

So why not taste you all over? Jumin hungrily slides his tongue over your teeth, seeking entrance. When your mouth parts for him, he tastes you intimately, swallowing your soft sighs. 

“For the record,” you mumble, out of breath, “I only ever dream about you.”

“As do I, darling.” He pulls you closer still, thinking about how good you’ll taste when he has his mouth on your pussy. “As do I.”

///

This need to prove himself to you extends beyond the sexual—you laugh so much when you’re around Luciel and Yoosung. Actual laughter that is so different from the polite smiles and chuckles that are in response to his own words.

He hates it. He hates it so very much. He wants to make you laugh, full blown and unabashed. As much as he likes making you giggle, he wants to make you laugh so hard that there are tears pouring down your cheeks. And his experience has quite readily set him up for the expectation that if he wants something, he will have it.

And now, what he really, really wants is to see his wife lose her in laughter because of him.

That means it’s time to bring out the big guns.

Right now you’re under the covers, reading glasses on as you flip through a book. The book in question is something from his personal library (when he showed it to you, mentioning a scene from Beauty and the Beast, you had promptly told him that he was not a beast, but that you finally understood how the princess felt in that scene). 

To an extent, Jumin feels bad when he distracts you from work or requests your attention. But he tries to remind himself that if you didn’t want it, you were more than capable of telling him as much. And your reaction to him crawling on top of you with his arms on either side would certainly not be to put the book aside and pull him down to lay on your chest with a kiss to the crown of his head.

For once in his life, Jumin is certain that he is loved.

“I have a joke,” he tells you matter-of-factly, and your brow raises.

“What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, he raises himself up so he can take a good look at your face.

“Hit Seoul, hit Daejon, hit Daegu, hit Busan, hit it!”

There’s a long pause, and your surprised expression slowly morphs into a giggle, then at his grin, a chortle. Jumin laughs first, and then you do too, throwing your head back. It’s single-handedly the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life.

“W-what—“ You’re wheezing now, shoulders shaking. “What does that even mean?”

“I cast a spell on you. Those who laugh are no ordinary souls, for your information.”

“You are so perfect.” The praise catches him off guard, but your body is still shaking from laughter, and in your eyes he sees something like adoration. “How are you so perfect?”

That is definitely not a word he associates with his humor. His status, money, company, business acumen? Yes, perfect, as they were always meant to be. But the little flips in his stomach tell him that none of those things are what you’re referring to. The look in your eyes—he never sees you look at material objects or money that way. He has only ever seen it aimed towards him, and Jumin realizes with a start that there is no need to compete with Zen or Yoosung or Luciel—because really, there is no competition to begin with.

///

Being a workaholic comes with benefits. Everything always gets done. And he enjoys doing business, so there is no negative side effect…other than the lost time that could be spent with his wife. Typing away on the computer he has set up in his study, Jumin sighs, cracking his neck every half hour or so. He’s been at it for hours, but there’s still more left to do.

A soft knock makes him look up. You peek your head in, blinking sleepily and all wrapped up in a blanket. “Sorry to disturb,” in a whisper that barely reaches his ears, “can I sleep here, honey?”

Jumin beckons you in, looking around dubiously. “I’m sorry, I don’t think there’s any surface here you’d be comfortable on. I don’t want you to have an ache by tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Your eyes keep blinking closed, as though you’re barely staying awake. All your words are hushed, but you still manage to clamber over to his side of the desk, blanket in tow, and fall onto his lap, burying your face in his chest. 

With a start, he catches you, holding you close. “What is it, sweetheart? You can’t sleep?”

You shake your head, getting even more comfortable. “The bed’s too cold.”

Something indescribable squeezes his chest. Above everything, the pleasure that you would rather seek warmth from him rather than get another blanket is all-consuming. Without another word, he stands with you in his arms and walks to the bed. The second he steps into the bedroom, your grip on him becomes a little tighter.

He huffs back a small laugh. “I’m not going anywhere. I’d just rather you sleep here.”

Pulling out a second blanket from the closet for good measure, he lays down on the bed with you, throwing both blankets over your bodies before wrapping you up in his arms. You sigh happily, legs mixing with his and face pressing in his chest once more.

“Sorry for distracting you.” Now your voice is barely audible. “Mm…you’re just…so much warmer…”

“Can I ask you a favor?” You hum softly in response. “Please never apologize for demanding my attention. I am yours, that includes my body, my soul, and my time. Should you ever need me to sleep and I am in the office, please call me and I’ll come home immediately. I’ll take the jet home if I have to. That doesn’t just stop at my time either. If there is anything, anything, you would like, then all you have to do is ask me. I’ll buy you anything. The world is at your disposal.”

There’s a pause and Jumin thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you break the silence, quietly asking, “Is it okay if I ask you for something, then?”

“Anything.”

Cute but glossy eyes peer up at him, and you blink rapidly. “A kiss?”

Jumin places his hands on your cheeks, catching the stray tear that falls. Then he leans in, and everything is right with the world.

///

Ice Prince.

Jumin has no idea where the title actually came from. He doesn’t see what’s wrong with someone having control of their emotions. Is he expected to cry or rage at every little thing? That’s a genuine question. Maybe he doesn’t show much emotion at all, and he should. He’s open to advice.

It shouldn’t even be on his mind. He’s watching a soap opera, and the most beautiful woman in the world is in his arms. He enjoys watching your reactions more than watching the show itself, whether you’re holding back an aww or wincing. Every so often, you look up and meet his eyes, giving him a sweet smile each and every time before placing your head back on his chest. 

Still, he can’t get the article he read earlier out of his head. Has the Ice Prince really settled down? What kind of life does the new Mrs. Han lead? One can only imagine that she does not get many warm moments with Jumin Han. A speedy divorce would not be surprising.

Just the thought makes him tug you in closer, the idea of you leaving never failing to terrify him. He’s gotten better, he doesn’t freak out over you exiting the penthouse or hanging out with friends or working. He’d told himself harshly that he would not drive you away with his overt possessiveness.

But maybe he’s going to drive you away if he can’t learn to show you his emotions and instead continues to be…well, an ice prince, as much as he hates the term.

“Jumin.” You’re pressing a kiss to his throat, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you tired, honey? We can go to bed.”

When he looks down, you’re gazing concernedly up at him. He doesn’t feel like a villain when you look upon him like this. And holding you close is not the only privilege he has here. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you, and you melt in almost immediately. Jumin knows that you’re starting to get sleepy because you don’t make any move to straddle him further.

The man who knows you best—that is what the articles should be about. Doting husband. Family man. Your partner. How could anyone think he was cold or heartless to you?

“Juju,” you mumble softly, not bothering to break the kiss, “we should get to bed.”

Yes, you’re right. However…

“May I ask you a question?” His curiosity and slight anxiousness requires him to make sure. If he’s ever done anything to make you think he’s some kind of robot, he needs to get rid of such behavior immediately.

Your lips quirk like he’s said something funny. “You may.”

“Have I ever seemed…cold to you?” Almost as if to remind you before you answer, he holds your hand, squeezing gently, while the other hand remains on your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin softly. “Since we’ve been together, I mean. Have I ever acted anything like an…” Jumin cringes just saying it out loud. “Ice prince?”

The question seems to take you aback, and you blink a few times. Your eyes—warm, beautiful eyes—first stare at him with a certain confusion, then quickly become infused with a sudden anger.

“Did someone say that about you? Who was it?”

“No one,” he responds, then hastily amends, “there have always been articles calling me that. I just happened to see one today, so it was on my mind.”

Now, you really do straddle him, threading your fingers through his hair. The anger has dulled into a stubborn crossness. With a deep scowl, you kiss his forehead and say, “That is ridiculous. You have been nothing but warm to me, Jumin Han.”

The same warmth you’re talking about spreads across his cheeks, painting them pink, but you’re not done.

“Since when do you care about those articles anyway? They’ve always been inane. Remember when everyone was convinced that you would marry Sarah?” Here you huff, and he hates to admit that he loves seeing you jealous, even if over someone he never even considered getting to know. “And you had to set them straight for them to print anything accurate. Maybe I should give a press statement of my own. Ice Prince my ass.”

“Such language,” Jumin says lowly, already hiding his face in your neck. You’re still peeved, muttering things under your breath as you stroke his hair, angry kisses pressed to his skin in the middle of your rant.

Eventually, you tire yourself out, falling asleep right there on his chest, a common occurrence. He doesn’t mind it one bit, it’s actually really easy to carry you to bed. For some reason, Jumin feels much, much lighter.

///

His wife is a party planner. An event planner, technically, since you’ll take some requests for meetings as well, but it’s mostly parties. He knows that due to your marriage, there’s been an increase in the amount of clients wanting you to plan their events. Even before, you’d said your schedule had always been sporadic, revolving around whatever the current most pressing event was.

Frankly, he shouldn’t be surprised, with how masterfully you pulled off the RFA party. 

He’s more than proud of you, of course. He’s now attended quite a few of the events you put together, and it always leaves him impressed. You’ve confided in him about how you’d like to either switch to a company that exclusively does weddings or start your own, and despite your protests, he’s fully prepared to finance such an endeavor when the time comes.

The only issue about your job, and his job as well, is that your schedules can be sporadic. There are days where you can work without even leaving the penthouse, and then there are days where you are running around and don’t return until 2 AM. Jumin can hardly get upset when he’s taunted the clock with his record times at coming home as well.

Can’t get upset at you, that is. Being upset at the situation is perfectly reasonable. He wants to spend time with his wife, dammit. You’re his favorite person in the world, all the things he wants to do involve being with you.

So when he’s the one who’s arriving at 2 in the morning, he deflates to see that you’re fast asleep, a couple documents and your phone in the bed next to you. How many times has he told you he would set up a separate room for you to work in? Each time, you shake your head and say all you need is your phone and laptop, and you can work anywhere. That doesn’t take into account your health, though. The place you relax should not be associated with work, or it leads to a less relaxing sleep cycle. He once read a study about that.

It might be hypocritical, but Jumin misses you. He wants to talk to you so badly it pains him, and not just longing phone calls that always leave him wanting more.

Loosening his tie, he waits for a second before falling hard onto the bed.

Your eyes flutter open immediately, and in your daze you take in your still-dressed husband. With a sleepy smile, you push away all the papers next to you to snuggle into his arms. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.” One arm secured around your back, he pulls you as close to him as you can. He sees you breathe in his lingering cologne, and it makes him downright giddy that his scent seems to bring you comfort. “Shouldn’t a loving wife be waiting up for her husband?”

You yawn, throwing one leg around him. “Not when the husband returns at an ungodly time and the wife has an early morning site inspection. Did you have dinner?”

“I did. Did you?”

“Mmh. Yeah. I refrigerated some in a container if you wanna take it to work tomorrow.” 

This is one of his favorite domestic things you do—and he doesn’t even think you realize how much he appreciates it. If it’s between having something from a five star restaurant or having your cooking, the latter will win each and every time. Sometimes he wants to brag  to the whole world, although the most he’ll do is slip how tasty his lunch was today to Assistant Kang (who will almost always respond with a dry, “Glad to hear that, Mr. Han.”).

“I will.” Jumin kisses your lips, smiling when he feels you respond with little effort. “I’ve missed you.”

Your arms snake around his waist as you tuck your head under his chin. Jumin sighs when he feels you kiss his collarbone. “I’ve missed you too.” All he needs is your breath on his skin, or your hands on his face, or your voice filling his ears. It relaxes him instantly. “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

“I’ll be in the office all day.” Already he groans, burying his face in your hair in the hopes that it will preemptively soothe the headache sure to form tomorrow. At first he didn’t understand why you insisted on using the same hair conditioner you always did instead of a much more expensive one he could buy for you, but the smell of your hair is so exquisite that now he wholly prefers it (although there is a special kind of tingling in his chest reserved for the moments you smell like him). 

“Same. After my inspection, I’m going to be meeting four new clients, and I’m going to guess they all want priority.” You roll your eyes, carding your fingers through his hair. “Tomorrow is also Mr. Wang’s wedding, so I’ll be back late.”

At his wordless whine, you giggle, kissing his cheek. Then after a few seconds of thoughtful silence, a soft hum sounds from your throat.

“I have an idea.”

///

The click of Jaehee’s heels alerts him to her entrance, and Jumin straightens in his chair, accepting the papers that she hands him. 

“Thank you. Have you eaten, Assistant Kang?”

Jaehee blinks at him once, then twice, like he’s grown an extra head. Then she slowly nods, the surprised expression melting back into her perfectly professional one once more. “Yes, sir. And you?”

“Not yet. I brought a container my wife packed for me.”

“Honey, I don’t think she really cares to know that.”

“I see. She is a pretty good cook if I recall correctly.”

“Everyone cares,” Jumin insists. 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re so sweet, it’s annoying. I want to kiss you all the time.”

“Mr. Han, are you alright? You look a bit out of it—should I call for a doctor?”

“Do it.” He smiles at the papers in his hands. “I won’t stop you.”

“Call…call the doctor?”

“Will you kiss me back, in front of all your employees?”

“Yes. Of course. Whatever you desire.”

“Right away, sir,” Jaehee responds in a sort of strangled voice, and it’s not until he hears the click of her heels again that he remembers she was there. In almost a flash, she leaves his office. 

“What did she say?”

Jumin touches the tiny earpiece that’s been on all day, adjusting it only slightly. “I honestly have no idea.”

///

Jumin hates leaving. But he does, well, what is the phrase? Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave? Something along those lines, is what you’ve said to him. He’s not sure it applies here, since he is actually leaving to go abroad for a few days, and already he’s looking forward to his reunion with you, but he didn’t expect that both of you would be so needy for each other the night before the flight.

It starts with a few kisses, a pout on your lips that he thinks he can kiss away if he just tries hard enough. Telling you in hushed whispers that he’ll miss you an unfathomable amount. Your understanding on a pragmatic level, and your clinginess the second you both laid down. Both are appreciated more than he can say.

“What if I want to watch a movie with you?”

Kiss. “Just wait a week for me, my love.”

“What if the bed is too cold and I need you to warm me up?”

Kiss. “One week, I promise. No more than a week.”

“What if aliens invade the penthouse and I have no one to protect me?”

Kiss. “Tell them that your husband is going to kill them…in a week.”

For a few minutes, it goes on like this, with you proposing other scenarios and Jumin doing his best to both reassure you and make you laugh. He lays kiss upon kiss to your lips, and perhaps subconsciously, they become more ravenous, demanding. Seeking more. Seeking your conviction on just how much you will miss him.  

“Jumin,” you breathe into his mouth. Jumin, Jumin. He loves how you say his name.

You’re seeking something as well, the warmth that you are so certain will disappear along with him. On one hand, he hates that his princess has to sleep without him at all, especially when she clearly doesn’t want to. And on the other hand, knowing that you’ll be here, missing him so desperately, makes his heart flutter. You’ll miss him. You’ll miss him.

Within moments, you’re on top of him, seated on his lap and unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt. He’s responding in kind, leaving love bites on your neck as he slides your night robe off your shoulders. 

“What if I get lonely?” you ask, more demure than you actually are. “What if I need you, and my fingers aren’t enough?”

His hands press into your hips, hard enough to bruise. You mewl at the slight pain, and he manages to hiss, “I never want your fingers to be enough. If you wait for me, princess, I’ll make you cum more times than you can handle when I get back.” Even if just the idea of you sending him a video or even calling him as you touch yourself was incredibly appealing. Maybe next time. This week, he would have you think of nothing but his own fingers, his tongue, his cock.

And what better way to do that than to remind you how they feel?

“I’ll be gone seven days exactly.” Spoken more to your breasts than you, but he does gaze up at you reverently as he kneads them in his hands. “Maybe tonight I can make you cum once for every day I won’t be here. Would you like that?”

He jerks his thigh up against your core before you can answer, so you nod frantically, mouth falling open. “Uh huh!”

And who is Jumin to ever deny you?

///

The trip right before Valentine’s is the worst. It’s all Jumin can do to finish work before running like a madman through several different stores, picking up this and that. He insists on a different bag for each purchase, despite the clerks gently pointing out that he can put a lipstick tube in the same bag as a pair of heels and nothing will happen, but he doesn’t want to. He would like to see you open every item with a new spark of delight in your eyes.

Usually, he would return late at night, always opting to finish the day’s work and catch a flight right after instead of waiting for morning, because this way he would arrive home, gather you up in his arms as you slept soundly, and then bask in your surprise and delight when you woke the next morning. 

And this time would have been no different if one of the departments had not messed up, forcing him to wake up on Valentine’s Day still out of the country. After five days’ worth of work forced into two hours, a shopping spree and a quick call with you, he nearly takes the wheel from the pilot himself before Jaehee begs him to just sit and try to enjoy the ride home. The rest of the trip, they are engaged in a glaring contest every time she looks up from the video she is watching on her laptop. 

As soon as the door opens, he hears a surprised cry of his name, and then you’re barreling into him—all the bags in Jumin’s hands fall to the floor in favor of catching you and hefting you up in the air for a spin. 

“I thought—“ Kiss. “That you—“ Kiss. “Weren’t coming back today!“ Deeper kiss.

“I couldn’t miss my first Valentine’s with you, my love.” The deepest kiss of all.

The two of you only stop because his bodyguards are coming into the room after him, with more bags. Your eyes widen as you take in all of them, and your sharp mind has already pieced together what’s going on. “Is this all for me?”

“Of course.” Jumin knows that the way you’re latching onto him with such a tight grip is a more priceless gift than anything in these bags. “Why don’t you open everything? I wish to see your reaction.”

And so you do. The makeup, the shoes, the clothes, the jewelry, the books, the decor, all of fine quality and all things well thought out with your interests in mind. With every single item, no matter how big or small, you gasp, or squeal, or simply smile ever so widely. And without fail, you kiss him right on the lips each time.

Jumin is dizzy only halfway into the opening process—he must start buying you gifts far more often if this is the reward he gets.

However, you see beyond just his outward appearance, and you place the next bag he hands you aside without so much as a glimpse at it before clambering onto his lap. Hands on his cheeks, your thumbs smooth over where he’s sure eyebags are forming. “My poor Juju,” you whisper, “you look really tired, honey.”

Honey, honey, honey. How joyful he feels when you call him honey. “As always, you see right through me. I can’t hide from you, can I?”

“I never want you to hide from me.” A sweet kiss pressed to his cheek makes his stomach jump, like he’s a teenage boy with a crush. “Let’s lay down, shall we? We can finish opening everything afterwards.”

Jumin concedes, rising hand in hand with you until you’re both on the bed, curled up in each other. “What a terrible Valentine’s this turned out to be. I’m sorry, my love.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, kissing him slow, soft and smooth. “What are you talking about? You’re here where I can hold you, we’re both off work, and you’ve gifted me more than anyone else ever has or will in my life.”

“Good,” he says, satisfied that he’s set a standard that no one else can ever match for you. “But is that…enough?”

“Enough?” Your tone is incredulous. “Jumin, just you being here is more than enough. I love you so, so much, and I—“ You cut yourself off, slightly backing up as though you’re trying not to overwhelm him (a ridiculous notion, he would love nothing more than for you to overwhelm his every sense). “I cannot believe how lucky I am to have married you.”

This time he kisses you, the idea of sleep slipping further and further away because really, why should he close his eyes when he can only see you when they’re open? Why should he rob himself of the privilege to gaze upon your lovely face and listen to your quiet, soothing voice? Why should he do anything else, eat or drink or work or play, when he could simply kiss you for the rest of his life?

“I love you,” he breathes, pulling you closer because you simply can never be close enough. “Happy Valentine’s, my precious wife.”

///

Of course, the first time your schedule allows you to accompany him on a business trip he’s ecstatic. Finally a week without the headache of returning to an empty hotel room, and instead what will feel like more of a vacation, especially once he completes the necessary work and the two of you can spend the rest of the days lazing by the beach.

Because of the honeymoon, Jumin had become well acquainted with your fear of flying, and had arranged your seats in his private jet to be close together. As the jet takes off, he holds your hand in his as you squeeze, eyes shut tightly for the takeoff. Reassuringly, he kisses your hand, rubbing the back of it while his other hand strokes Elizabeth the Third’s head through the carrier she’s in. 

“Poor Elizabeth,” you manage to whimper, still looking quite pale even after the takeoff is done, “I hope she doesn’t get airsick.”

“She doesn’t,” Jumin reassures. Elizabeth is used to such flights, unlike you. He’d much rather you focus on your own health right now.

The stewardess for the flight comes through with the cart of food and drinks. “Anything for you, Mr. Han?”

“A glass of wine.”

“Of course, sir. And you, Mrs. Han?”

“Oh, um…” You smile sheepishly up at her. “Would you happen to have apple juice?”

The woman blinks once, then, as though she’s fighting back a laugh, says, “Apple juice, ma’am?”

“Is that a problem?” Jumin cuts in sharply before you can answer, glaring daggers.

“No, no! O-of course I can give you apple juice, ma’am, I didn’t mean to offend—“

“No offense taken.” Even nauseous and teased, you smile kindly, eyes lighting up when you have your drink. If he remembers correctly, he used to drink apple juice when he would get airsick as a child as well.

When the stewardess leaves, you lean over and press an apple-tasting kiss to his lips, and he catches a few drops of the juice in his mouth. It tastes yummy, or maybe it’s just the taste of you that he likes. 

Probably the latter. Either way, he’s eager to get this vacation started.

///

“I feel so good that you’re here. Thank you so much for coming. I…never want to let you go.”

…

“I’ve trapped you here, haven’t I?” he asks one night, after he thinks you’ve fallen asleep.

You’re wide awake, though, and he feels your lips on his throat as you whisper, “I’ve never once felt trapped with you, Jumin.”

///

You’re a lightweight, and it’s the most adorable thing Jumin has ever seen. Including cat photos. Including Elizabeth the Third. And you don’t realize just how cute you are, which only makes you cuter.

“Juju,” you whine, when he starts to guide you to bed.

“You have to sleep, my dear.” Almost smugly, he places a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Sleep and allow me to take care of you in the morning.”

The protest you seemed to be ready to fire back morphs into a happy giggle as you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his midsection. “I do like when you take care of me.”

“Likewise.”

For some reason, that sends you into more giggles as you press against him. “You talk so smart like. I love when you use big words.”

Biting back a smile, Jumin raises a brow. “Is likewise a big word?”

“Anything is a big word when you say it.” You kiss him softly, sliding your hands in his hair. You love messing up his hair, almost as much as he loves letting you do it. “You’re so smart. So clever. Your brain is like…” To exaggerate your point, you lean your head away, with his hands on your back to keep steady. “Soooo huge.”

“Not the only thing,” he hums slyly.

“Jumin!” Laughing, you hit his shoulder, only for him to tug you in close, making you squeak. The only downside to how well you two know each other now is that he doesn’t get to see your beautifully embarrassed face, but he still gets some wins when he catches you off guard.

“I’m only kidding, my love.” Watching your lips part for him as he leans in, Jumin kisses you this time, gently sucking your lower lip between his teeth. Let no one say he wasn’t out and open with his oral fixation when it came to you. “I’m honored to know you find me intelligent.”

You beam, nearly blinding him with how brilliant your smile is. “Intelligent, and funny. So, so funny. I love your jokes.” Now you turn your cheek, placing sloppy kisses along his jaw. “And handsome. I have the most handsome husband in the world.”

Jumin, only now realizing the difference between being happy and being giddy and knowing he’s both, can only close his eyes, tilting his head back. “Ironic for you to say, considering no one with your beauty has ever existed before nor will exist again.”

The way your cheeks flush make him realize that he, too, must be quite tipsy. Surely his stomach does not flip so violently just to see how your eyes glow at his praise.

“I love you.” You swallow, and he watches the movement of your throat closely. “Do you know how much?”

He exhales, not having realized he inhaled before. “M-more than is reasonable, I presume.”

“A lot more than is reasonable,” you whisper before kissing him again. This one is different, he can tell. Something more desperate. More wanting. More likely to make him lose his mind.

How does he know? It’s because you’re not just kissing him, you’re also borderline riding the knee he’s slotting between your legs. With a whine, you tug on his collar, as though you want him closer. Need him closer. 

Losing his mind is just the beginning.

“Sit on the couch.” The tone with which you beg makes his already hardening cock twitch. “Please, Jumin.”

He obeys—how could he not obey?—and just the sight of you dropping to your knees to unbuckle his pants has him throwing his head back with a lustful groan. How did he get here? How did he get so lucky? 

You kiss the head of his cock, and Jumin is gone.

When you start bobbing your head, eagerly sucking with your eyes closed in concentration, it takes every inch of willpower he has ever had to not cum immediately, so that this can last. With every slow caress of your tongue, he can feel himself getting lost in his own base senses, every coherent thought fading away and leaving only an animalistic need.

“Princess,” he moans, fingers in your hair. His words escape him in a slurred, barely coherent manner. “I, ahh, won’t last—shit—”

Coming inside your warm, wet mouth is not in the top five moments he remembers when he thinks of his favorite times with you, because he likes to think he’s classier than that, but regardless, he’s never going to forget this.

///

Growing up, the one trait that he was always told to avoid and to find disdainful in others was laziness. There is nothing worse than a person who is not efficient. People who waste time just doing simple tasks are not worth his time, he was told.

But surely, surely, that does not apply to you. (Or maybe it’s a silly lesson in the first place, another one to add the list he has started to garner since he married you.)

It does not apply when you have to get up early for work and you sadly try cuddling with him in the five minutes you have left to remain in bed. Most days Jumin leaves before you, pressing a kiss to the lips of the princess in bed before heading out. Your parted lips in sleep do such a number on him that he has to make sure not to linger too long.

Days where your job demands you wake with him are no less enjoyable, and perhaps even more so as he gets to witness your clinginess. Jumin tugs you to the bathroom, where you close your eyes and rest your head on his chest as both of you brush your teeth. When you finally make it to the kitchen, he seats you on the chair by the counter and amuses himself by watching your sleepy eyes follow him while he makes a quick breakfast.

“Maybe I could eat ‘n your lap?” you ask cutely, poking at your scrambled eggs with a fork. 

“My dear,” Jumin answers, intertwining your fingers to kiss the back of your hand, “I would love nothing more, but you will fall asleep again.”

Not even an argument as you nod with a lazy smile, head falling forward on the counter. “I want to fall asleep again. How do you do this every day?”

“It’s what I’ve always done.” He’s finished with his eggs, so he stands, sweeping your hair aside to lean down and press a kiss to your nape. You squeal, squirming away as he catches you and tugs you to him, watching you immediately give up this play fight and snuggle into his chest to catch a bout of standing shut-eye. “Now come, Driver Kim is waiting to drop us both off.”

You shake your head, clutching onto him stubbornly.

“You can sleep on my lap in the car.”

And he feels inordinately pleased with how fast you move after that.

///

The days that he knows you will be at the penthouse when he returns, there’s always an extra breath in his steps, as if the air itself knows he must return home immediately.

Tonight, for example. He has a whole night planned. The two of you would cook the next thing to try on that list of recipes you printed and excitedly taped up in the kitchen, then after dinner he plans to play some soft music and waltz you around the rather spacious living room, and then both of you could go for a swim in the pool, and the night would end with you dozing off in his arms.

A perfect night. The kind he dreams about, the kind that he never can quite believe are real.

When he opens the door, he doesn’t hear any call of his name nor is he tackled in a hug, which only makes his shoulders deflate slightly. Elizabeth the Third softly mrrows at him from where she’s sitting on the couch. Placing a kiss atop her head, he pokes in to check a few rooms, searching for his wife. 

You’re nowhere to be found. The only place left to check is the bedroom. His sweetheart usually doesn’t fall asleep so early, though.

He opens the door, then freezes in his tracks.

With a couple of candles lit up around the room, you sit on the bed, nothing on except the set of lingerie he ordered a few weeks ago at your request, black as the night sky (“because it reminds me of you”). A few pillows support you as you lean back, eyes trained on him. There’s a glass of wine in your hands, and another on the table next to you clearly reserved for him. 

You take a small sip, and some drops purposefully miss your lips and slowly drip down your neck, down over the swell of your breasts.

“Care to join me, husband?”

Jumin swallows.

None of his plans end up coming to fruition that night, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

///

(You’ve pointed out how the most random things turn him on—when you wear his clothes, but specifically his striped shirts, when you let him buy something ludicrously expensive for you, when you do simple things to take care of him, when you wait for him at home after work, cat ears—cat ears, cat ears, cat ears!—and the rare moments where he gets to see you pissed off.

But he’d only responded how the things you were into were equally as random—seeing him disheveled after a hard day’s work or a visit to the gym, the way he answered business calls simply by saying Jumin Han speaking, what do you need, and every time you’re naked on his lap while he’s fully clothed. 

Shall I remind you how desperate you get, my dear? he growls into your ear. Your cheeks flush, and Jumin reaches for the ribbon in the drawer, even more impatient than you are.)

///

There are other times where Jumin will arrive home and if you aren’t leaping into his arms, kissing him full on the lips as he spins you around or pins you to the wall depending on the mood, you’re sitting on the couch, typing away on your laptop either for your job or for the RFA.

In those moments, he finds himself easily sliding his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, absolutely reveling in the subconscious way you rub his nape and kiss his hair.

Sometimes you both will exchange stories of your day, expanding on something a phone call simply couldn’t cover or something that perhaps you had wanted to say in person to fully soak in the reaction (you seem to particularly enjoy how he insults the difficult clients you tell him about). Other times, there is a serene silence, only broken by Elizabeth the Third’s purring and the clack of your keyboard keys. 

You smell so good, all the time. He wonders if he should be capitalizing on the perfume you use so that no one else can buy it. That way this scent would solely be yours, just like he is. Something about that idea blooms a warmth in his chest.

The best part of the night comes when you finish, closing the laptop and setting it aside before wrapping your arms around him. “I love you,” you say, only for his ears, just like how your lips are only for his skin, just like how your scent is only for his nose, just like how Jumin is only here to be yours entirely. 

///

In the past, when he’s fallen ill, he’s either ignored it or simply just taken the necessary amount of time to recover. The last time he was pampered like this was as a child by his nannies. And even their doting paled in comparison to yours (but then, didn’t everything, when it came to you).

Because this. This, is heavenly.

Every single ounce of your affection is solely for him. Your soup that you feed him, your fingers stroking his hair, your voice sweetly singing him to sleep. Your lips on his forehead, whispering, “How are you feeling, Juju?” 

Granted, because he’s sick, he can’t fully appreciate it without the feeling that his body is turning against him. But it’s worth it, it’s easily worth it.

So, the day that he wakes up with a low temperature, feeling absolutely fine, he still manages to cough pitifully and throw out the word to Jaehee that he simply has to take another day off.

You have a knowing smile on your face, but when he slips his arms around your waist, with his face buried in your neck, you still hold him just as warmly, and Jumin is so, so, so in love with you. Nothing could possibly stand to be better than this. One hand absentmindedly strokes his hair while you type on your phone with the other hand, communicating with someone from work. 

Your phone starts to ring; he only shifts minimally to get closer as you answer it. “Hey, what’s up?”

He can hear the person who called—it’s one of your friends. “Hey! Check your messages, I won that ukulele I told you I would win last time.”

The sound of your laugh is so melodious, he’d do anything to get drunk on it. “Win another one for me, I’ll hang it up in my closet.”

“Yeah, right.” Your friend snorts. “I wish you were able to come. It’s been so long since we’ve been here.”

“I know, but Jumin really doesn’t feel well. I couldn’t just leave him at home alone.” As though your friend can see, you plant a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll go another time, definitely.”

“I’ll hold you to it. Alright, I have to go. Give the husband all my love, I hope he feels better.”

“Will do. Bye, have fun!”

With that, you hang up, resuming the scrolling through your phone and the stroking of his hair. Jumin is still, for good reason. 

You had meant to go out with your friends today. And due to his not-actually-sick state, you had canceled on them.

Hadn’t he told you to put him second to your own self? But he can’t pin this on you, not when he was the one faking. A terrible feeling begins to rise in his chest, causing him to move away from you and stare at you with a guilty expression.

“Is your neck finally tired of…” You trail off when you look at him, furrowing your brows. “What happened?”

“You were meant to go out today.”

A small frown forms on your face. “Um…we made plans, yeah. But you were sick—“

“I wasn’t,” he confesses, ironically sick to his stomach. “I just wanted to take another day off and spend some time with you.”

“I know that.”

“I—you know?”

The frown on your face is replaced by a tiny smile, as you tug gently to bring him back into your arms. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Yes I am.” He pouts, still upset but more calm now that you don’t seem disappointed. 

“Honey, the one time I kissed your finger after you got a papercut, you somehow got a papercut on every finger the following week.”

Jumin blushes, but you’re not wrong—he just craves your attention. You simply make everything better.

“More importantly,” and now you pull him into your chest, settling back into the same comfortable position with a kiss on his forehead, “I’m faking just as much as you, because I love it when you do things like this. Why would I complain? I get to spend time with you.”

This is what it feels like, Jumin is certain, to be loved. To be cared for and adored so deeply that it leaves an ache in one’s chest. “The next time,” he murmurs, as your hand finds purchase in his hair once more, “The next time you would like to go out to an amusement park with your friends, please let me know. I can buy it out for the day.” A thoughtful pause. “Or forever.”

Another soft kiss, he’s tempted to keep going, to make more and more outrageous promises just to earn each and every press of your lips to his skin. “My friends will appreciate that. I think the park is already owned by C&R, actually.” You chuckle. “Some fast passes though? I wouldn’t say no.”

Fast passes? He’ll ask you what in the world those are just as soon as he finishes kissing you (something a fake sick person can, thankfully, afford to do).

///

A soft knock on the door. 

“Mother?” He makes sure to keep his voice to a polite volume. “I’ve played with all my toys. May I please come out now?”

Silence. 

Jumin clears his throat, trying his best not to look behind him, just three steps down. It’s dark down there, and he knows it is not logical to be afraid of the dark, but even the logic does little to quell the growing fear inside him. 

“Mother? It…it has been a few hours now.” Fourteen hours, he counted on the tiny clock that ticks a little too loudly in the basement. “May I please be let out? I’m starting to get hungry.”

That’s a lie, but he doesn’t think she’ll know. The truth is he began to get hungry hours ago, and is now close to starving. As if on cue, his stomach growls. 

Jumin knocks again, the dread he feels growing with every second. “Please, Mother, I’ll be good. I’ll play with my toys. I’ll be normal. Please let me out.”

None of it makes any sense to him. In all the books he reads, none of the mothers lock their sons up in the basement. But then maybe none of the sons are as strange and abnormal as he is. They didn’t need to be locked up like he did. 

Still, even if he deserves this, the loneliness is starting to scare him.

“Please.” Childish tears start to prick at his eyes. “Mother? I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”

The only response he gets is the silence, beckoning him to come back to the darkness where he belongs. With a trembling lip, he turns to face it once more.

The doorknob jiggles.

He whips his head back, not daring to believe it. Is this punishment finally over? 

The first thing he’s going to do after he eats is call Jihyun, ask him if he’d like to go to the park nearby. Anything to go outside, in the light, with other people. 

Except, to his horror, when the door finally opens, it’s not his mother standing at the top, but his stepmother.

“No,” Jumin whispers, stumbling back. He misses one step and trips, hands on the cement floor as he stares, terrified, at the woman. “Please, no. Where’s Mother?”

The woman at the top laughs, a sound that seems to make others happy but only serves to suffocate him further. He’ll choose to stay in the darkness for a hundred more hours before going upstairs to see her. “What’s this? Another woman in your life, Jumin? What a lady killer!”

He shakes his head desperately, as though to tell her that there’s no one, there’s no need for her to get possessive.

It doesn’t work. 

“I’m your mother, Jumi.” He hates that nickname. “Shouldn’t you spend more time with me? You know I love our time together. I know you love it too.”

No, no, no, no, no. He’s on his feet in an instant, scrambling back away from her as fast as possible. His back hits the shelf, no longer a child but an adult, and yet still equally as pathetic.

“Your father doesn’t even pay attention to me anymore. You’re all I have, Jumi.” Her eyes turn cold. “But it looks like you’ve found someone else, haven’t you? You’ve replaced me so easily.”

Now her gaze is focused somewhere else. Jumin follows it, peers through the darkness, only to see…

You.

Relief floods his chest all at once. You are his solace, to hold close and worship. You are the only person to ever understand him, to love him without hurting him. You have accepted him no matter how much he’s shown you that he doesn’t deserve any of your care. As long as you are by his side, he can face anything.

“Jumin.” Even his name sounds so much nicer coming from you. Everything and everyone else seems to melt away.

He takes one step towards you.

You speak again, but it doesn’t sound the same this time.

“Jumin.” Now that he can see your face properly, you look…angry. “Don’t come any closer.”

Immediately, he stops, and that sharp fear grips his throat, squeezing.

“You’re fucked up, Jumin.”

The words spit out of you like a spear, hitting him right in the center. 

It can’t be you talking. You don’t say things like that. You always tell him you love him, that you understand him, that you adore him.

But maybe you’ve just…had enough.

Tears begin to spill from his eyes. You stand before him, his heart in your hands, and you look at him with such disgust that he hopes the darkness in here opens up and swallows him.

“I’m leaving,” you say firmly, “don’t follow me.”

“Please,” he gasps, shakily reaching a hand out. “Please don’t leave me here, my love.”

But you don’t listen. You step up the stairs, grip the door, and with one last look of vitriol, you slam it shut, damning him to the darkness forever.

Jumin wakes with a gasp that’s really a sob, head jerking up and slamming against yours.

“Ah!” You grip your forehead, wincing in pain from your position above him. “Ow ow ow, that hurt!”

Like he’s in auto mode, Jumin sits up, touching your cheek with a terrified expression. “I’m so sorry, my love, let me call the doctor. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” You wince again, rubbing your forehead. “It’ll probably bruise later, but I can deal with it.”

He hurt you. He hurt you.

But you don’t have any of the hate that your dream counterpart did in her eyes. Instead, yours are filled with concern, and you cup his cheeks with such gentleness that he closes his eyes, immediately melting in your hands.

“Were you having a nightmare?” You kiss his forehead. “You were tossing and turning and mumbling in your sleep.”

As much as he wants to bask in your worry for centuries, it doesn’t stop the guilt that threatens to spill. “I apologize for waking you, my love. And for hitting you. I—I was having a nightmare, yes, but I’m alright now.”

“Jumin.”

“If you’d like, I can make some tea for you to help you go back to sleep—“

“Jumin.” Your lips are on his forehead again. “You’re crying, sweetheart.”

So he is. It’s strange he didn’t realize, but there are indeed tears wetting his cheeks. He opens his eyes to meet your gaze, looking at him so sincerely and with such care that this time he actually feels the tears pour down.

“Oh,” you breathe, brows meeting in concern. Your thumbs wipe his tears away diligently, and your lips begin to kiss every spot you wipe. Jumin trembles under your touch, hating himself for being so pathetic in front of you and simultaneously considering crying forever so that you stay here forever too. “What is it, honey? Please tell me how I can help.”

He wants to. But all he can manage to do is grip the back of your shirt in his hands, bury his face in your shoulder, and sob.

Not even for a second do you let him go. He doesn’t know how long he stays in your arms, seconds, minutes or hours. He cries, and cries, and cries, until his eyes feel swollen. and all the while your hand strokes his hair, your lips kiss his cheek, and your voice comes out in soothing whispers.

It’s okay. 

I’m right here, I’m here for you. 

You have me forever. 

We’re going to get through this.

I promise I’ll stay with you as long as you want.

Even though he hasn’t told you what his nightmare was about, you still somehow know exactly what to say. 

Even when he finally tires himself out, Jumin can’t stand the thought of not being held by you. He’s never felt this safe, this protected, in his entire life. He continues to grip your shirt tightly, breathing in and out, chest heaving. Any second now, he thinks. Any second now, you’re going to pull away and see how awful he is when he clings to you again, like a child.

You do no such thing. Instead, you lean back against the headboard, gently guiding his head to rest on your chest. It’s not the most comfortable position, but he shifts so that he’s sitting curled into you and pulls you forward gently to place a pillow behind your back. This way, he can hear your heartbeat.

And it’s that steady rhythm that makes his eyes start to droop.

But if he falls asleep again, he risks having another nightmare.

“Sleep,” you murmur, kissing his temple. Jumin’s eyes close on instinct. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The promise knocks him right out.

///

When he wakes, you’ve kept your promise, and you’re in the same unfortunate position, head lulled to the side as you snooze. 

An indescribable feeling settles upon him. It’s not just one feeling, in fact, but multiple. Guilt, because he forced you to sleep like this throughout the night. Gratitude, because he’s pretty sure he’s in the arms of an angel sent from above. And most importantly, he feels white hot love, because he has clearly married the only person in this world worth a damn.

And as much as he wants to stay like this, he knows that will surely not bode well for the chiropractor appointment he plans to schedule for you. So Jumin slips out of your embrace gently, taking good care to lay your head down on the pillow. With you picturesque in front of him, he places a kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Thank you.”

“Ju,” you mumble in your sleep. Your hand seems to reach for something, stopping when he intertwines his fingers with yours.

An angel, indeed.

Jumin gets up fully, taking the time to brush his teeth and freshen up before going into the kitchen to whip something up for breakfast. He wasn’t expected at the office until after lunch, so he had time to really make something nice. Chocolate chip pancakes, instead of his usual strawberry.

As he makes the batter, he thinks. Last night was…an anomaly. There should be no reason for him to dream of people that no longer matter anymore. His present is the most important, and his present is, thanks to you, leagues and leagues ahead of his past anyway. He wants to forget it all, forget his mother and stepmother and even Sarah Choi, who, while she hadn’t made an appearance last night, had been in his nightmares more than once, in a bleak alternate reality where he actually married her.

But he knows who he really married. It’s the person whose arms are sneaking around his waist right now. You.

“Morning.” Your voice is exceedingly pleasant, especially when it’s cooed in his ear. “You’re going in late, right?”

“Yes.” He places a kiss on the back of your hand, pressing his lips to each knuckle. “And you, my princess?”

“All from home today, my prince.”

Inwardly, he feels a quick twinge of irritation. “I wish I could spend the whole day with you. I should call out.”

“I’m never going to dissuade you of that.” You kiss him right on the nape of his neck; Jumin shudders. “But it’s up to you.”

“I’ll end up burning these pancakes if you keep distracting me.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.” Your laugh is so pretty, he thinks, and he didn’t think he could describe laughter as pretty before you. “Um, before I get too off topic…don’t you think we should talk, Jumin?”

He knew you weren’t going to simply forget the fact that he had cried himself back to sleep last night. Luckily, before you’d woken, he’d already prepared for such a scenario.

“I apologize for disrupting your sleep. I had a disturbing dream, but it will not happen again.”

For a second, he thinks it’s enough to stop you from asking any further questions, up until he feels your arms slide out from under him. The next thing he knows, you’re turning off the stove before he can start on the next batch of pancakes. 

Then, you’re gently turning him so he’s facing you, looking at you right in the eye. Jumin has seen that look before. It’s way too determined for even his stubborn nature, and it always comes out when you’re about to do whatever you want (a rare delight, given your selfless nature, but one he enjoys every time).

Your hands loop around his neck, and you kiss his cheek. Jumin closes his eyes as you speak softly. “Won’t you tell me what’s bothering you, love?”

It’s amazing that you think anything could bother him when you’re this close, calling him that. 

“Just a nightmare,” he says softly, but you clearly don’t buy it.

“I have nightmares too, it’s very rare that one of them affects me that much after I wake up.”

“A bad nightmare.”

The other version of you flashes in his head again. You’re fucked up, Jumin. But she’s not you, and even though he thinks for a terrible second that you’re going to shove him away, you pull him in for a hug instead, warm and welcoming and cozy. The scent of your nameless-brand shampoo fills his senses—it makes him desperately want to go back to bed.

“Please,” you breathe on his neck. “That’s what you were saying last night. Please, Mother. Please, no. Please, don’t leave me.” 

His hands grip the back of your shirt.

“Please talk to me, Jumin,” you plead. “Please.”

Somehow, he has to keep from crying this time. How pathetic can one man be? But he also has to acquiesce to your request, because you’re you, and he cannot deny you no matter how hard he tries. If you want him bare, you shall have him bare. If you want him destroyed, he will destroy himself in an instant. 

“Alright,” he concedes, trembling.

Not wanting the kitchen, where you and him cook together and laugh together (and a couple other things too), to become associated with these tainted memories, he guides you to the couch, hands holding yours. You promptly get into your favorite position, on his lap with your knees on each side. With a sigh, he rests his head on your shoulder, the fabric of your shirt seemingly smoothing out the creases in his forehead.

Your lips on his skin and your whispered words of encouragement give him a courage he wasn’t aware he possessed. Jumin talks.

“You have not met my mother yet. There is…good reason for that. A week before our wedding, she sent me the profile of a woman she wanted me to marry. I refused, of course. But that is the first time she has reached out to me in years.” He clears his throat. “She and I did not have a pleasant relationship. I think some part of me was very disappointing to her, because instead of giving her the true challenge of parenthood I molded to exactly what she wanted me to be. She recognized that I was…abnormal.”

In the span of a few seconds, your eyes have hardened more than he’s ever seen them harden before. This isn’t determined. This isn’t even pissed. This is raw anger.

“Abnormal?” There’s a bite to your words. “Is that her way of saying she was blessed with an intelligent, kind child?”

“You are kind,” Jumin whispers, cupping your chin to press a short kiss to your lips. “As a child, I was perhaps more robotic than I am now. I took to the world of business rather quickly.”

“You were brilliant, Jumin. Were and still are.”

If he kisses you after your every reassurance, the two of you will never leave this couch (not that he necessarily minds that idea). The more disturbing risk is that he will break down in front of you, if he starts elaborating, not to mention when he begins to talk about his stepmother as well.

But that’s a risk that Jumin can now accept. He understands now, that he hasn’t known love before you, and that there will be a great many times he will feel afraid, but he also knows that there is no one in the world he trusts more. 

Taking a deep breath, he continues.

///

Jumin is addicted—addicted—to making you cum.

The face you make when you orgasm—eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream, head thrown back—is the most beautiful thing he’s seen in his life. He considers spending eternity with his head between your legs, recklessly licking you to completion again and again.

The sounds you make—God. They have him rolling his hips against the sheets, so close to finishing just from your taste. It’s an obsession now, one that’s been growing ever since you two were married. A stressful day or a bad meeting or even projects being set back for whatever reason, Jumin can get all that frustration out as long as you allow him to spread your legs and devour you. As long as you squeal on his tongue, make a mess of his face, cum on his lips once or twice or more. He only stops when you beg him to. 

He could taste you forever.

But he reconsiders this commitment after he experiences the feeling of you coming on his cock once more.

A choked cry escapes him when he feels your walls clench around him. For a second, he can’t move, too lost in the way your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his skin. It’s the most pleasurable pain he’s ever had the fortune of experiencing.

“Ju-min,” you whine, legs clasping around his waist as he continues to thrust lazily, seeking his own release, “more, please.”

It really is always nice to know that he’s not the only one affected, enthralled and addicted to this madness.

///

Returning home to silence is still better than returning home to the sound of soft crying.

Jumin is on high alert in an instant, not bothering to take his suit or even his shoes off. You’re curled up on the couch, wiping your cheeks aggressively when you catch sight of him.

“J-Jumin, I didn’t hear you come in. Um…” You swallow, dried tears still obvious on your face. “I haven’t made anything, let me call the chef.”

He crosses the rug over to you almost blindly. There’s nothing else in his head, only you—your tears—you’re crying—you’re crying and he wasn’t here. His hands cup your face, wiping another fresh tear that rolls down your cheek as you look up at him, shaking.

“Who did it?” There’s a white-hot anger pulsing inside of him. He never sees you cry. “Tell me who I need to kill.”

A soft gasp escapes you, and you shake your head frantically as he sinks to his knees, taking your hands in his own and pressing reverent kisses to your knuckles. “N-no one did anything—I promise I’m fine, h-honey, please get up—“

Your laptop is set to the side, but the only thing on it is an email draft, giving him no clues at all. The last thing he desires is for you to have to recount that which distresses you, but he wants, needs, to ensure that you never get upset again.

“My love,” he swears, pressing his palms to yours, “please, tell me what happened. Was it something I did? One of the employees in the building?”

You whisper frantically, “No,” but even as you do another fresh wave of tears drip down your face.

Jumin wants to scream, wants to hurt someone, whoever is responsible, but he’s helpless, and so he lets intuition guide him, rising up until he’s next to you on the couch, and he’s pulling you in.

With a firm grip on his suit, you bury your face in his chest, shoulders shaking. In this moment, he recalls the predicament from that night, when the roles were reversed. How you’d simply let him cry, and held him all the while. Is he capable of…can he possibly bring you the same peace you bring him? Could you allow him to comfort you in the same way?

No matter what, he’s going to try. Anything for you.

Placing a kiss to your hair, he tightens his arms around you and murmurs sweet nothings, making sure you hear all of them. Everything from you’re the strongest person i know to i’m here for you, my love, i’ll be with you till the end of time.

“It’s just so much,” you finally hiccup, sniffing, “I’m busy all the time, they dump every project on me, I never get a chance to just take some time for myself and breathe! I’m always on some call, writing some email, visiting some area, I just want it all to stop. And you’re busier than me, and you do it so effortlessly, I can’t imagine how pathetic I must look compared to you.”

“You’re worth a hundred of me.” His voice is fierce, and he meets your eyes with his entire honest conviction. “Nothing about you is pathetic. You…you’re hardworking, you’re talented, you’re brave, and you’re the kindest person I know. I do not deserve you. I’ve never deserved you.”

“Please don’t say that,” you whimper, face still wet. He squeezes you tighter.

“I apologize. This isn’t about me. You need a break, sweetheart. Please, just request a week or at least a day off.”

“Jumin, I can’t—”

“I’ll request off too. Whenever you get a break, I’ll schedule one at the same time, and then I’ll take you wherever you desire, or we can simply spend it in the penthouse, and lay in bed all day. Or I could buy your company,” he half threatens, half jokes.

You let out a weak laugh, sinking into him, but he feels the tension in your shoulders release just slightly. Placing a kiss at the top of your head, he quickly texts for the chef to come by within the next hour, then tosses his phone aside to hold you better, which is when he catches sight of your own phone. On the screen is an image of the chatroom—a screenshot, he realizes, since his own messages are in it and he hasn’t been on the messenger today.

Your gaze follows his, and a slight smile finally forms on your face. “Messages from when we first met. Ah, the day I came to your apartment, I think.”

Oh, no. To put it lightly, those days were not a good time for him (although he’d never say such a thing, because he finds it cruel to say that some of the hardest days of his life included the one where he met the most wonderful woman in the world). Heaven knows what foolish things he’d said, he’s tried to block out most of the times that didn’t include the sight of you in front of him.

“They calm me down,” you admit softly, “the screenshots I have. I’m glad I took them, I have almost a hundred pictures that remind me of all the butterflies I would get when I talked to you. Knowing you’re my husband is the biggest calm of the storm.” Your cheeks are still stained with tears, but in your eyes is a newfound admiration as you and him look at each other, as though you have all the time in the world.

Jumin’s heart seizes.

“I’ll request a week off.” You reach up, a thumb on his cheek. “Thank you, Jumin.”

Surely, he thinks, being needed by you is the best experience of all.

///

“Thank you.” Your voice breaks the silence, muffled on his skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your husband kisses you, impatient as always, and you adore it.

“You’re welcome,” he breathes.

#jumin x reader #jumin x mc #jumin han #mystic messenger #mysme x reader #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc #jumin han smut #valkyrie stories

[kyonkyon69]

JUMIN HAN FANFICTIONS

[ONESHOTS]

>Fuck You, Jumin Han! by JuminsHand

-WELL WRITTEN = 4.8/10 [BAMF ME-CORE Y/N FANFIC]

-YANDERE 🌶️🌶️🌶️ = 10/10 [jealousy........ jealousy leads to intense brat taming fuck session]

>Don't Forget, We Are In Love by orphan_account

-WELL WRITTEN = 7.4/10 [Bad End 2 Aftermath]

-YANDERE 🌶️🌶️🌶️ = 10/10 [captivity galore. the baby-trapping bit at the end gagged me...]

>50 Shades of Jumin Han by Larsoten

-WELL WRITTEN = -280/10 [feels like author watched 50 shades of gray liked the ideas but was too lazy to even bother writing it out, probably one of the worst ao3 writing i have ever seen by that i mean 12 yr old wattpad smut writing]

-YANDERE 🌶️🌶️🌶️ = 1/10 [this shit put me to sleep even with 50 shades of grey bait in the title]

>bdsm lessons with jumin han by adorechan

-WELL WRITTEN = 4.5/10 ["has my dick made your brain go dumb?" the fic]

-YANDERE 🌶️🌶️🌶️ = 2/10 [way too vanilla for a bdsm fic, light read smut galore]

>you're my best friend by honeyedboba

-WELL WRITTEN = 5.8/10 [what a sweet friends to lovers nsfw story... this was such a cute read especially at the end when her early anniversary gift was her pregnancy test confirming jumin is now a father omg and her taking the action first which leads to the kinky edging sex scene. im such a simple bitch for friends to lovers fluff au]

-YANDERE 🌶️🌶️🌶️ = 3/10 [dude is so jealous to the point that yoosung got neglected in the chat again lolol]

#jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc #yandere jumin #yandere mystic messenger #yandere boy #jumin han smut #jumin han mystic messenger #jumin han #mystic messenger

[mysticerror606]

Inexperienced!Jumin han Headcannons

aka he's finally not bitchless

pairing : inexperienced!jumin han x gn!reader

genre : just smut, smut and smut, headcanons

warnings : mention of semi/public intercourse, oral (both sides), mention of throat fucking, masturbation,

a/n : this is my first post ever ! and it's my first time writing anything on Tumblr, so apologies for any mistakes, especially on format (I'm bad at formatting) and feedback will be greatly appreciated as well as requests !!

inexperienced!jumin who makes you show him how you touch yourself before he takes over

inexperienced!jumin who continually asks you how he's doing even when you're too fucked out to answer

inexperienced!jumin who sometimes gets so caught up in the pleasure that he uses you like a stress reliever

inexperienced!jumin who came a little too fast when you first went down on him

inexperienced!jumin who became so addicted to your body that he started to skip meetings just to taste you

inexperienced!jumin who complains about how much he needs you, but is to tired to do anything so he makes you just use him

inexperienced!jumin who doesn't realize the tent that forms in his pants everytime he sees you

inexperienced!jumin who gets so caught up in the moment while you give him oral that he just holds you still and starts fucking your throat

inexperienced!jumin who keeps accidentally edging himself because he's so caught up making you feel good

inexperienced!jumin who convinces you to give him a blowjob after each meeting as a reward

inexperienced!jumin who convinces you to give him a blowjob during a meeting because "it's too cold in my office"

inexperienced!jumin who gets so worked up seeing you all dressed up for a RFA party that you two have to leave early before greeting everyone

inexperienced!jumin who tries to pretend like his cock doesn't twitch whenever you praise him

#jumin han #jumin x mc #mysme jumin #mm jumin #mystic messenger jumin #jumin smut #jumin han smut #jumin han x reader #jumin han headcanons #mystic messenger

[yaoiaddict00]

Jumin x Reader Smut

So I was scrolling through YouTube today and found a Jumin Han perverted call (as you do) and I just wanted to write some smut that follows it.

The call basically talks about Sleeping Beauty, but Jumin……. Phew gotta prepare for this.

Jumin Han, said something along the lines of “I want to see how much you can take without opening your eyes.” And y’all… My writerussy quivered.

So, here is some smut playing on that phone call.

Jumin x Reader (fem)

Smut: Oral (fem receiving) looooooottttsssssss of teasing, fingering (fem receiving) 1.2k words

As always, no proof reading so sorry for any mistakes!!

His hand massaged your tits and his mouth worked bruises on your neck. The faint suckle of his tongue mixed with your fast breathing echoed in the room. You tried to think of other things, the ABC’s, the soft cushion of your shared bed, the smell of his shampoo, the heat between your legs. It was impossible, there was no way of not thinking about this situation. You felt almost embarrassed, talking all this nonsense, acting tough, but crumbling into an almost whimpering mess after he barely even touched you. The only thing on your mind was him. His touch, his breath, his sounds, his rules. To break Jumin Han’s rules is to break a signed contract. It comes with serious repercussions.

Noticing your legs pulling together slightly, he hummed into your neck. God. You clenched around nothing, feeling your panties already damp. He inhaled your scent before moving his hands down to your sides, squeezing your plush before raising your shirt slightly, gently pushing his hands under the fabric and his mouth lowered to mouth your breast over your clothing. He rubbed your sides for a little bit with his thumbs before lifting your slightly to undo your bra. You followed his motions, using your legs to slightly push yourself upwards, knees slightly grazing his groin by accident. His breath slightly hitched at the touch, not noticeable to most but you always picked up on his subtle cues. He slid your bra off skillfully, having done this exact motion on your many times before. Your shirt follows suit, leaving only your lower half clothed. At this point, you almost opened your eyes countless times, temporarily forgetting the rule for this play session; Keep your pretty eyes shut.

Jumin didn’t like those who disobeyed, he is very much a ‘rules are meant to be followed’ man. Very occasionally would he indulge in a brats tantrum, feeling it was a waste of time to work even in the bedroom. In order to make sure you would stay his obedient little toy, he set strict rules for every play. Rules that were broken would be paired with a punishment he would see fit. Once, you accidentally let a drop of his cum seep out, the punishment was having your hands and feet bound while he spanked you, counting all the way up to 20, cherry red cheeks on both ends and face streaming with tears. Of course, he would never go out of your comfort zone, a safe word was established at the very beginning of your sexual relationship but you have never felt the need to use it. Was it because you didn’t want to disappoint him?

Your eyelids started to hurt from how firmly you had shut them, feeling your eyelashes on your cheeks because of how tightly they were closed. You felt them move at each twitch and tug of your lids. Jumin had slowly made his way to your waistband, hands hoisting your knees on his shoulders. He flipped your skirt up slightly before blowing on your panties. The cool air of his mouth paired with your now very wet undergarments caused your legs to tense around his shoulders. He grabbed the waistband of your underwear and lifted slightly before allowing it to snap back on your skin, a slight jolt following quickly behind. You wiggled from impatience, he had not given a command to stay still, just to keep your eyes closed. He chuckled slightly before moving a hand to hold up your thigh, thumb running along your slit. He stopped just above your clit making you hold your breath. He resumed his movements, slow and lazy circles over your clits electing a quiet whimper from your mouth. The warmth of his hand on your thigh was comforting, it paired amazingly with the sensation on your clit, now becoming more intense as his motions sped up slightly. He could feel your hole clenching and relaxing, your pussy fluttering at his motions and the thought of his eyes looking at your most vulnerable parts. You could almost feel the laser sensation of his gaze on your cunt. Suddenly, his movements stopped. You stayed still in fear of what would happen if you complained too much. Would he not let you cum at all?

Then, you felt his thumb hook on your panties and move them aside, exposing your soft, slick folds. Trying to control your breathing, you felt his other hand move towards your pussy, soon two fingers slipping in your hole, welcomed in a warm, tight embrace. You let out a moan as he fully inserted his index and middle finger inside you, curling slightly at your gummy spot. Your head shot forward, eyes still squeezed shut as tightly as possible as he pumped his fingers inside you, a slow and steady pace that was almost agonizing. You wanted him to speed up, even just a little, wanting a more constant stimulation on your sweet part. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were fixated on your face, the scrunch of your eyes and nose, your slightly parted lips, your furrowed brows. He was waiting for you to slip up, though he always cheered you on, wanting you to be his good girl, he knew the things that would make you crumble in an instant. He would sometimes let you win, but was today one of those days?

He slightly sped up his fingers, your head dropping back and letting out another, slightly louder moan followed by heavy breaths. You orgasm slowly approaching as he continued his pace in and out of you. He decided, this time he would let you win while still breaking you. He would purposely not look at your face as you came undone.

His fingers pumped in and out as your pussy started to clamp down on him, your high approaching closer and closer until you felt a warm, wet sensation on your clit. Your eyes shot open as a premature orgasm shot through you. His tongue rubbing your clit up and down, slightly humming at the taste of you on his tongue. His fingers curling perfectly timed with his thrust, his thrusts now perfectly timed with the fluttering of your pussy. You grabbed onto the bed sheets and closed your mouth, a scream muffled by you biting on your lips and you shut your eyes tightly again, riding out your high, bucking into his mouth slightly.

He stopped when you started to pull away from his mouth, pulling himself off you and sitting on his knees staring down at your panties, still slightly pulled to the side, your skirt, still slightly flipped upwards, and your chest, heaving from your orgasm. Your forearm now covered your eyes, head slightly faced to the side, completely worn out. He grabbed a tissue from the night stand and wiped his fingers and face clean. You heard the movement but didn’t even move your arm to look, still coming down from your high. You felt a hand on your head, petting your hair as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You’re my obedient toy aren’t you, Y/N?”

You didn’t want to ruin this moment so you didn’t respond. What was one broken rule going to do anyways?

#mystic messenger jumin #jumin x reader #jumin han #mysme jumin #jumin smut #jumin han smut #mysme smut #mystic messenger smut #mystic messenger jumin han #mysme jumin han

[xelasrecords]

Secrets and Sacrifices

Han Jumin x Reader

NSFW

Jumin and you make sacrifices for the RFA. You don't know how much more you can take, but Jumin does not plan to let you out of his sight.

Secret Ending AU where the secrets drag on and relationships are more complicated.

TW: depression, self-harm, controlling behaviour

Words: 2.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

Your friends are laughing around you. The restaurant lighting has dimmed, and the lambent glow from the candle on the table illuminates their happy faces. All of you are tucked into a padded leather sofa in the corner, the live music playing behind you.

You echo their laughter. It's the appropriate response.

Seven is sharing an outrageous tale, and Yoosung is his enraptured audience, constantly nodding and asking follow-up questions. Zen chides him for believing everything Seven says but still laughs along. Beside you, Jaehee reaches over you and sets the empty plates aside in anticipation of Seven's dramatic gestures.

Jumin is impervious to the racket. He swirls his wine and watches the advertising screen outside the window, the billboard flashing bright in the evening. His grey eyes are glazed, unfocused. He's missing V, you're sure. That's all he does, aside from worrying about you. Waits for V to contact him.

Languidly, you lay your head against the cushion. This should be a pleasant dinner, but there's a damper placed on your emotion valve. You've lost the means to conjure the excitement you once felt. The knowledge of missing them is not the same as feeling it.

You look down at the corduroy skirt that has ridden up to your waist, exposing more than half of your thighs. You dig your nails into them. Five seconds and release. Little scythes are imprinted on your skin. There, a feeling. You swipe your fingers through the indents with dull fascination.

Today is one of the rare days when you are cleared to venture outside without compromising security, but showing up here feels like a farce. You're playing puppet to prove that you're fine before being corralled back to Rika’s sterile shoebox apartment.

Jumin and Seven's dutiful little puppet, that's what you are.

When you glance up, you can feel the weight of Jumin's attention on you, intense gaze shifting from your lap to your neutral face.

You don't feel guilty. He will find out anyway.

You drag your skirt down and straighten your posture, the band sitting around your hips again.

"Is everything well?" Across from you, Jumin's smooth baritone voice rises above the peals of laughter and the increasingly loud music.

The chatter halts as your friends turn to you with a concerned expression.

You crack a smile. "I'm all right. Just tired." Jaehee squeezes your hand, and you pat hers with reassurance. The friendship you foster with this little group is built on thin ice, and long cracks have been crawling across the surface. "Let's go back, I have work tomorrow. So do all of you."

Seven's shrewd eyes flash at you before he grins widely at the others. "Except for Yoosung!" He pokes Yoosung's side, which earns him a light punch on his shoulder.

"A wise decision," Jumin says. "Everyone should get some rest."

"Easy for you to say." Zen glares at him. "I don't think I can sleep a wink tonight. My skin is ruined from all my lost beauty sleep." He sighs and turns to Seven. "Is there no progress on V's secret files?"

Seven pouts and shakes his head. "I'm still trying to break through the encryption walls, but Jumin can give me Elly to boost my motivation!"

Zen instantly sneezes and curses while Jaehee hurries to pass him a napkin.

An agent with a lifetime of diversion training. You hold back a scoff.

Jumin, Seven, and you are only shrouding yourselves with more secrets because you are determined to reach the same goal: Don't let harm come to the RFA. Don't share any information unless it's crucial. Not even Jaehee. Not yet. Let them live in the almost idyllic bubble as long as they can.

For a split second, Jumin seems as if he's about to scold Seven for the deliberate mispronunciation of his cat's name, but he shakes his head and calls for the bill instead.

Jumin has changed. You wonder how much he has to pay in unravelling V's secrets. If selling his peace is worth the members' peace. But you know what answer he would give. It has never been a matter of choosing for him. He will always protect the RFA.

He will always protect you.

Along with the others, you file out of the restaurant through its gilded swinging doors. Jumin immediately arranges their transport home and reminds them to inform their arrival in the chatroom. You pretend not to see Seven exchanging a calculating look with Jumin, his mask briefly slipping. You wait for your turn, but it never comes.

You have anticipated that, though.

Jumin places his hand on your lower back, his dark hair in slight disarray from the wind. You shiver. His touch still has the power to hold you together just as it has the strength to pull you apart. "Driver Kim is already on his way. You won't have to wait for long."

You nod and stare out the parking lot. Surveillance disguised as an act of chivalry. Since Seven stopped trusting V's contingency plans and revealed your address to the members, he and Jumin have worked together to keep you safe as you help them clean up the mess V left behind.

A familiar black car pulls up before you, and Jumin holds the backseat door open. You climb in, greeting Driver Kim before giving him your address. Jumin enters after and sits so close beside you that his trousers brush against your bare leg.

You press your thigh against him a little more.

Jumin gently caresses your knee, but there's a frown on his face. "Your address is already saved in my car navigation. Did you forget that?"

You have honestly forgotten. Thoughts slip around you these days. Try as you may to capture them, it's as if you have to squint through a lattice window to make out the memory fragments and piece them together. You get away with it most of the time, the fact that you struggle to pay attention.

But Jumin always pays too close attention to you.

"I remember now." You shrug.

Jumin isn't inclined to drop the matter. "I have picked you up more than once. If there's any problem with your memories, you should get it checked out. I will arrange a doctor's appointment for you."

"You're blowing things out of proportion."

The car starts to move. Driver Kim has polished his pretence of not hearing your conversation. He taps the radio screen, and a soft murmur floats through the small space.

Jumin's hand on your knee tightens into a grip, but not firm enough to hurt. "You have been forgetting a lot of things."

"Not when they're important," you say. "I won't compromise our mission, so lay off me. I can forget things. I'm human." You huff out a tired sigh. "Don't you have more things to worry about?"

His voice is constricted. "Do not presume other matters are more important than you."

"V?"

He draws his hand into his lap. "Both of you are of equal importance."

You stare out the window, yellow street lamps and glass towers sweeping past you. You're going back to a place that makes you want to scratch your skin loose. Your freedom is restricted to the apartment and wherever an RFA member accompanies you.

"I've watched the romantic drama you recommended," Jumin says after a few moments. "You're right, I did like it. It's curious how the man is always there to catch the woman when she falls. The distance and his human speed should've made it impossible."

At another time, you would have smiled at his endearing fascination and proclivity to pick apart a mystery until he understood it inside out. Now you glance at him without emotion. "Dramas operate by their own logic."

Jumin tries for a smile. "Nevertheless, it was sufficient entertainment to unwind after work. I must thank you for that."

"I'm glad it helped."

He shifts his body towards you. "How would you feel if I attempted to catch you when you fell?"

You purse your lips. "I won't fall around you."

"But if you do?"

You try to ponder over it, but it's like trying to break through rough currents that threaten to swallow you. The effort is exhausting. "You might not be fast enough," you say. "You're not armed with magical drama abilities."

"Then being there with you at all times would solve it." There's a hint of finality in Jumin's tone.

Of course.

You rest your head against the window, the glass cold against your temple. "That sounds impractical."

"It is better than watching the people I love lose themselves because they're too stubborn to ask for help."

Your lips tug up in the tiniest smirk. "Interesting. Han Jumin feels more than me. I never thought this day would come."

You glimpse at him, but he doesn't seem offended. How disappointing. You're right at the centre where his emotions are concentrated. You thought that would have included his anger.

"I would say it's concerning," Jumin says. "I know how that emptiness feels. If what you're experiencing is worse than that—"

"You'll force me to get treatment?"

His hands curl into a fist in his lap. "I'm not fond of coercion, but if you pose a danger to yourself, then I will do what I must."

You can't keep the irritation out of your voice. "Of course. Thank you for caring."

"I always care." Jumin's fingers hover near your cheek, and you think he's going to touch you, and you wait for him to—but he drops it to his side.

"And look how it ruins you."

Jumin dips his chin sharply. The shadow in the car obscures his expression, but you can make out the lines of exhaustion in the corner of his eyes. There is only so much he can put up with before it eats at him, always bracing for tragedy to befall everyone around him.

You're not supposed to be on the list of the people he wants to protect.

"Loving you doesn't ruin me. It's the best emotion I have ever felt." He runs his hand up your arm and pauses at the slope of your shoulder. "So let me care for you. Don't go. Don't go as far as V has."

You can't wrap your head around the driving force behind Jumin's obsession for your survival. You don't even care as much. It probably has something to do with how you can see right through him. He's attached to the validation you can offer him. You make him feel like a person. You're the only one who sees him as he is, now he can't let you go.

"V is your closest friend. He'll come back to you eventually."

"He won't," Jumin states flatly. "Rika is all he sees, and his range of vision has pathetically narrowed. You needn't bother with consolations. I know where my place is on his priority list."

Pressure burgeons within you like a fist thrusting into your ribcage and twisting your lungs. You hold on to the sensation, thankful to still be able to feel certain pains for Jumin. You wind your hand around his tie and press your lips somberly against his. He tastes of matured grapes and sweet memories long gone.

You have loved him until it ruined you too.

Jumin hooks his arm around your waist and pushes you against the car door, his other hand moving around the back of your head to soften the blow. His fingers trace down your ear and jaw before tilting your chin up and deepening the kiss.

His hand slides up the back of your thigh and toys with the lining of your panties. You hitch your leg up, allowing him to slide between you as he presses himself harder against you, his breathing harsh against your parted lips.

You can feel his need for you between your legs and you wish to satiate him, but it's as though your limbs and nerves are molten lead. You can burn him up with a single touch and you do it without feeling anything.

You want him, but the desire is cerebral.

Jumin pauses and pulls away when he notices your lack of fervour. He opens his mouth to apologise, but you grab his arms, feeling the lean muscles beneath the suit, and shake your head.

Not your fault.

He searches your face, then nods. This has happened before.

You don't know how you reached this point. You keep losing things that you can't afford to lose and you're tired of it. Your freedom, your fundamental need for Jumin. You don't know how to protect your senses from atrophying.

He smooths down your crumpled hair and blouse, murmuring, "I had expressed my wish not to be consoled, yet you still went against me."

"This is the only time I don't have to obey you."

Jumin stills. "I am not trying to restrict you."

"So if I ask you to stop monitoring my schedule and chaperoning me, either by yourself or someone you personally approve of, would you?"

He brushes your swollen lips with his thumb. "Can you promise me you won't get yourself killed if I decrease the security?"

"I promise." You straighten his tie to align it with the buttons and trail your fingers up his chest.

Jumin seems to consider it before shaking his head and chuckling. "You're a good liar."

You grip the lapels of his suit. "It's not up to me if the hacker decides to attack me."

"But you won't put up a fight either."

You let your hands fall and avert your gaze to the blur of passing cars behind him.

Jumin sighs. "It's only until we dissolve Mint Eye and you are safe from the threats that brought you here. Perhaps you would be happier and less inclined to throw self-preservation to the wind."

You clench your jaw and dig your nails into your thighs. Your life is getting smaller and smaller each day. There will always be another condition from him as your condition gets worse. Jumin will not stop. As long as the fight against Mint Eye goes on, you will always be under his extreme surveillance.

Jumin means well, you know it. You wouldn't have survived this long if he and Seven didn't force you to.

You carve your nails in with all your strength, clawing until they break your skin, but there's no blood. It's always harder when you mean to do it.

You don't want to be fixed all the time. Sometimes you want to shatter into pieces. Sometimes you feel safer when you're small.

"I can't breathe, Jumin," you say, desperation seeping into your voice.

He flicks his eyes down and wraps his hand around your wrists in an instant. "Stop doing that. Stop hurting yourself."

"This?" You laugh. "It's nothing more than you and Seven have been doing to me. I've always been willing to help you two with your plans, however immoral they are. I'd do them myself even without you. But I never gave you permission to track me like a prisoner."

His gaze turns hard. "You wouldn't let me if I asked."

"I'm the unhappiest I've ever been and you don't even care." You try to pull your hands away, but he won't budge. "You don't want me to be happy."

 "I deeply apologise. I never mean to cause you pain." His face contorts with guilt. "Please hold on a little longer. It will be over soon. V will provide us with an explanation, and things will return to how they were."

"You're naïve if you think it's that easy. This is not your drama with a fairytale happy ending."

"If I don't harbour hope in everyone's stead, what chance do we have in surviving?" Jumin says, and lets out a ragged breath. "We will get through this catastrophe. You can depend on me if you can't find the strength to go on. Just—stay with me. Do not leave."

You think you should cry. You can feel an emotion bubbling, blistering but never quite reaching its boiling point. It's frustrating. Breaking down under pressure is one of the most human things to do, yet the most you can muster is observational agitation.

Love changes things. He loves you and you're paying the price for it. 

You look at him with deadened eyes. "You have never made leaving possible, Jumin."

"Good," Jumin says, his voice terse. He doesn't let go of your wrists.

You sink into your seat, deep into the corner where the lights do not reach. There is a kind of loneliness that has grown into a corporeal shadow inside the cavity of you.

You yearn to make its existence known to someone.

You have no one to tell.

-

Footnotes:

I couldn't flesh these out due to fic length, but I want to get them out there anyway: 1) Reader isn't in therapy because Jumin and Seven aren't well-versed in mental health and Jumin thinks he's enough to fix her for now. She just doesn't care. 2) Jaehee is excluded from the secret subgroup because reader takes over her role in task execution and more.

I... didn't mean to write a dark Jumin or include canon plot elements. I feel like my fics lately are a "how dark can I make this" challenge. The initial idea was just Jumin being there for a lonely reader and it'd be wholesome and comforting, but it got worse through each draft. It had been satisfying to write.

I'd hoped my first fic with the big cast would be one where everyone's personalities are prominent, but apparently, I had to write it from a depressed reader's POV so everything is warped and muted instead. Maybe next time.

There's a paragraph that I reworked from my now inactive IG writing account c: I guess it's not plagiarism if you're copying yourself?

I like it when my MCs are a lil manipulative xoxo

The header concept is Jumin's obsessive surveillance, shown through the clear box tracking his eyes while the rest is blurred, and the toxic intimacy of how Jumin is the one who yearns more but they're separated by a thin yet impenetrable barrier. I was so happy that this clip fits my vision, with an Asian man at that! It's hard to find good free stock footage of Asians. And tap the GIF for better quality.

Buy me a glass of something that's definitely not coffee because I can't stand it but it is the website's name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don't. I'm still grateful you've read all the way through here.

#someday i will write a romantic kissing scene but today is not that day #jumin x reader #tw depression #tw self harm #jumin han angst #jumin han smut #mystic messenger fanfiction #jumin han #mystic messenger #mysme #jumin han fic #xela writes

[lysa1201-saucy]

hi can i request body worship with jumin han? tyyy <3

Hiiii sorry this is super late, life is crazy and I’m still trying to learn how to write NSFW better (which is why I’ve taken these requests lol) and also trying to learn how to write GN reader to be more inclusive!

I hope this is good or at least is good enough LMAO I tried my best 🙏 Thank you SO much for the request 🥰

if it’s bad, no it wasn’t, it’s my birthday, be nice 2 me

++++

Never Seen Anything More Perfect - Jumin Han x GN!Reader

18+ ONLY

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: body worship (obviously lol, unless I’m a terrible writer and did it wrong cuz oops), oral but I keep body parts ✨ambiguous✨, marking, and some hand stuff idk handjob i guess idk

Word Count: 418

++++

Jumin was quite the attentive man. Always spoiling you, caring for you. Too cold? New jacket for you, a new blanket, want a heater? He’s got it. Bored? Here’s a new TV, some games, subscriptions to your favorite streaming services, quite anything you like.

He loves to spoil you. However, he has one area he likes to spoil most.

Your body.

God, he loves your body. Your eyes, your nose, your lips, your hair, your ears, your neck, your chest, your arms, your hands, your ass, your thighs, God the list can go on and on. He’s in love with you.

Every single part of you. Every inch. And he loves to show you that.

He had you moaning on his bed, sucking where you’re most sensitive as he went down on you, making sure you feel the absolute best. You look so perfect when he’s making you feel so good. You tug at his hair, confused on whether you want him to pull away and fuck you, or to keep going and let you cum all over his face.

“You’re so amazing,” he would praise you, leaving kisses all around your pleasurable space. “So perfect… can never get tired of how wonderful you are. Your sounds, the way you blush, the way you cum… always so satisfying. My favorite thing is you.” He would go on, kissing all over your body. Your thighs, your hips, your chest, a small suck and nibble on your nibbles, and his favorite part: your neck.

God, he loved your neck. Sucking on it, biting it, kissing it. And your jaw. He needed all of you, who was he kidding? “I could stare at your body all day. I want to kiss it all, mark it all, you’re so fucking perfect.”

“More perfect than Elizabeth the 3rd?” You chuckled a bit, testing him. In response, he moved his hand down to your groin to start playing with you, causing your chuckle to be replaced by a moan.

Jumin smirks. “More perfect than Elizabeth the 3rd… just don’t tell her I said that.” He smirks as he leads his kisses up to your ear, nibbling on the earlobe. You try to let out another giggle, but all he does is increase his speed and the pressure of his hand to once again replace it with a moan.

Finally, his lips moved to yours so sensually, his hands moving around to touch all of you. He loved you. Everything about you. Inside and out.

++++

I accept constructive criticism, just be nice im sensitive and it’s birthday you legally HAVE to be nice to me today

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger smut #jumin han x mc #jumin han x reader #jumin han #jumin han smut

[euphoricesctasy]

nsfw jumin han (mystic messenger) hcs <3

- kinky. - jumin is the type of man to leave you tied to the bed, a vibe nestled against your clit, while he goes to work for the day - that doesn’t happen SUPER often however, because HE prefers to make you feel good, not some stupid vibrator. - he loves taking you anywhere and everywhere, he wants everyone to know that you’re HIS - if you come to work with him, he’ll leave the door open just a fraction while he fucks you. the fact that someone is so likely to walk in is so exciting and arousing to him.  - he’s super into cockwarming too, he’ll have you on his cock whenever and wherever he can. if you’re open to it, he’d be down to have you cockwarm him in his meetings. he really doesn’t care - he just wants to feel you. - the way he fucks you at work is quick and sloppy, but still always a good time. the way he fucks you at home, however.... - he is so into bondage (this is canon iirc); blindfolds, shibari, gags... he thinks they make you all the more vulnerable to him. - jumin loves being able to have full control over you, he loves having you at his disposal - mouth gagged, hands tied, blindfold on - looking so pretty for him while he has his way with you - he’ll occasionally be super vanilla (i.e - on anniversaries) and almost soft, but you both prefer when things are a little... spicier.  

#mystic messenger nsft #mystic messenger smut #jumin han #jumin han smut #jumin han nsft

[omgjumin]

Omg Jumin with fem reader smut prompt #17 please HELP ME RELINQUISH MY THIRST MA'AM

the meeting - han jumin!

summary: you have jumin wrapped around your finger which makes him miss a meeting

tags: thigh riding, pet names (princess, love, baby), praise, manhandling (?), i think that's it

notes: id like to think that jumin has a marriage kink. anytime you call yourself his wife, he just loses his composure. there's only two things in his mind, work and his wife.

"you're going to make me late."

"and?" you stood firm in your beliefs as you followed jumin around the house, watching him get reading for the day. though you knew at one point you have to let him go, but now wasn't the time. "love, i have a meeting in 45 minutes." jumin sighed as your hands found its place around his tie once more. "oh really? what's the meeting for?" you asked as if you weren't begging him to fuck you then and there. "it's a meeting with an important client and if it goes well-" jumin paused, clearing his throat as you pulled him closer by his tie. "if it goes well, then i won't be as stressed in the months following." you hummed a response before wrapping your lips around a patch of skin on his neck. "princess... don't press your luck." jumin warned like you cared. "what? you don't want your precious wife to kiss you goodbye?" jumin gripped onto your hips, quickly flipping you around to lean against the wall. "now you know damn well enough that's not your intention here."

there's this look on your face that jumin has really never seen before. the low-lidded eyes that were filled with lust, eyes that if jumin kept looking into, he would be turned into dust. the small grin that has jumin gripping onto your waist tighter, letting out a curse because you've got him exactly where you wanted him to be.

"fucking brat." jumin swore under his breath. he was puddy in your hands, you knew that and used it to your advantage. though it doesn't surprise him— not one bit. it was often you had him around your finger just like that, so easily. it was so easy to beg him to stay just five more minutes in bed so you could bask in his warmth. five minutes that happened to have jumin's long slender fingers run down your body, into your pajama shorts, to tease at your sensitive clit. the five minutes that turned into 20 minutes as jumin fucked you against the bed. his lips just mere inches away from yours as he panted. "god... you feel so good." loud whimpers of your name fell past his lips as his hips began to stutter. "fuck- im sso close... yea, right there?" with a yelp of his name, your orgasm was ripped from you.

swiftly, jumin placed his knee in-between your thighs, forcing them to spread. "go ahead." with your lack of response, jumin pressed his lower thigh against your cunt. "get off on my thigh since you insist on being a brat." a low whimper only left your lips when you began to roll your hips against his clothed thigh. the friction of his thigh felt so euphoric yet you needed more. you grabbed onto jumin's arms to keep you steady. your cunt, only separated by one thin cloth from his flexed thigh made eager to feel more. jumin only laughed to see you to needy for him. the meeting long forgotten as he watched you struggle against him. you begged for jumin to help you, to use his hands to touch you, to keep your hips moving in a steady pace to reach your release. but he shook his head as if he was mocking your desires.

jumin bounced his thigh underneath you, a silent warning to keep going. "i didn't say you could stop, princess." you knew whining wasn't going to get you anywhere, especially with jumin, yet you did so anyway. "come on baby, you can do it. just like that, good girl." jumin leaned down to whisper, his hot breath tickling right underneath your ear. and just like you knew jumin was puddy in your hands from just a simple "please" from his wife, he knew you lost control just from his voice. a kink of yours he knew from the beginning. it wasn't hard to figure out when you kept begging him to moan more, to let you hear him. and it was especially not hard to figure out when your cunt would squeeze his cock ever so tightly when he whispered praises into your ear. "im so- ng cumming!" you yelped out as your hips faltered, stopping for a split second as you came against his thigh. "do you feel better love?" jumin chuckled as he brought your eyes to meet his before placing a soft kiss onto your lips. embarrassing enough, you nodded your head. beginning to shy away from jumin once you realized he let you use him for your own relief. "now don't shy away from your husband hm?" your eyes locked with his before looking down at his watch then further down to his used thigh. "your meeting!!" you gasped as you pushed jumin away from you. "im already late for that because of someone." burrying your face in your hands, you mumbled a 'sorry' before turning away. "don't apologize, after all, i did enjoy it too but-"

"but?"

jumin softly laughed before pushing stray strands of hair behind your ear. "what do you think your punishment should be?"

#jumin smut #jumin x reader #jumin x you #jumin x mc #jumin han smut #jumin han x reader #jumin han x you #jumin han x mc #jumin headcanons #mystic messenger smut #mystic messenger jumin smut #jumin #han jumin #omgjumin

[juminies]

I have this idea that goes hand in hand with jumin being entirely inexperienced when it comes to sex that at some point fairly early on in your sex life he completely innocently and unteasingly would ask you to show him how you touch yourself. he's never fingered anyone before, and he has an idea of how you'd do it, sure. but he says himself he always takes his time to perfect things. he wants to learn. he wants to learn how you do it, how you like it.

him sitting back and intently watching as you make it a show for him. making comments that only spur you on: "you're so beautiful." "is this something you like?". he somehow hadn't quite anticipated just how desperate it would make him feel, though. him getting impatient after a little while... mumbling "I think I understand enough now." and replacing your hand with his. he's a quick learner 💖

#jumin han #jumin x reader #jumin han smut #mystic messenger #jumin x mc

[astridthevalkyrie]

idk i think jumin definitely jerked himself off in his office to the thought of you waiting in the penthouse all worried for him.

#you: *shows concern* #jumin: *instant boner* #jumin han #mystic messenger #jumin han smut

[ilyvanderwood]

Railing you \(//∇//)\ (MM)

Mystic Messenger Men

Versions -> Genshin Impact | Honkai Star Rail Masterlist | Requests Open! (All have same text w/ diff characters)

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Them railing and edging you until you become a begging and whimpering mess under them. Their fat cock hitting every place you love every single thrust in they give to you, not letting you cum until they've fully emptied their balls into you, making sure to breed you and to leave your hole a dripping mess full of their cum. If you even let a single drop fall out they make sure to thrust it back into you with their fingers or dick and overstimulate your poor little hole again.

Vanderwood, Zen, Jumin, Saeran

#mystic messager #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger x you #mystic messenger x mc #vanderwood #zen #jumin han #jumin #vanderwood x reader #vanderwood x you #vanderwood smut #vanderwood x reader smut #vanderwood x mc #zen x reader #zen x mc #zen x you #zen x reader smut #jumin han x reader #jumin han x you #jumin han x mc #jumin han smut #jumin x mc #jumin x reader #saeran choi #saeran x mc #saeran x reader #saeran smut

[stxrrydreamss]

Mystic Messenger

Saeyoung Choi

“That’s my good girl.”

“She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from men like you.”

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

Saeran Choi

“She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from men like you.”

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

Jumin Han

“That’s my good girl.”

“She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from men like you.”

Zen

“That’s my good girl.”

“She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from men like you.”

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

V

“She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from men like you.”

Yoosung Kim

“She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from men like you.”

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

#saeyoung choi #saeyoung x reader #mysme saeyoung #mystic messenger saeyoung #Saeyoung x reader smut #saeran choi #mysme saeran #saeran x reader #mystic messenger saeran #Saeran x reader smut #zen #mysme zen #zen x reader #zen x reader smut #jumin han #mysme jumin #mystic messenger jumin #jumin x reader #Jumin x reader smut #yoosung kim #mysme yoosung #mystic messenger yoosung #yoosung x reader #yoosung x reader smut #v #mysme v #v x reader #v x reader smut #mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader

[xelasrecords]

Violent Need

Han Jumin x MC

NSFW

Attempting to kill herself to hurt Jumin has consequences. MC is about to find out what.

A/N: It occurred to me that I mostly write slow scenes. Time to remedy that!

CW: referenced suicide, hate sex (oral), getting off to violent imagery

Words: 1.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

"Why is it always you?"

Jumin didn't budge from her balcony. His breath was still laboured, his black tie dangling loose from his collar. The wind roared against the bolted windows. She could barely make out the street far below, but she knew it was stranded. Nobody with good sense would take a stroll at this hour.

She pulled her night robe tighter around her. It was a comforting embrace that she would never get from him. "I'm sick of seeing you here."

His jaw hardened. "I am only here when my presence is needed. Had you not triggered the alarm, I wouldn't have come," he said. "Understand that I put your feelings into consideration. I'm not the heartless monster you make me out to be."

She cackled. "A monster with a heart is still a monster." The sound that escaped her throat was raw, dry sand scraping against inflamed flesh. "You don't put a fucking tracker on someone you love. You trust them."

Jumin snapped his head at her. His knuckles that gripped the railing were turning white. "Was I wrong in guessing that you were trying to kill yourself?"

She met his gaze steadily, those grey eyes so devoid of warmth that if she cleaved him open, it might as well reveal a hollow husk of a body. "No."

Jumin threw his hands up and walked away from the window. "Should I have sat around while your vitals deteriorated then? Your oxygen saturation was plummeting." He raised her chin and slid a trembling hand down the necklace of bruise around her neck. His touch was delicate. She was his fragile doll that he was determined to put together whenever she fell apart. There were too many cracks to be deemed lovable, but Jumin loved her still. "Under no circumstances can you die. You are needed in this association. I need you."

A pleasant sensation stung down her spine. She would not burn alone in the hell he put her in. He had to bleed as she bled. She threaded her fingers through his ink-black hair and jerked him close. "Whatever do you need me for?"

"You are the only one who understands me."

She nodded. "Why do you think I didn't strangle myself all the way through?" Her lips smoothed into a cold smile. "Ending my life permanently was never my goal. Chipping away yours is."

Jumin drew in a sharp breath. "I will still love you even with nothing left of me. You don't know what I've done to keep you safe. You have no clue of the things I'm capable of doing for you." He leaned his forehead against her as his voice dropped low. "You will stay alive and whole. That's an order."

She twisted her hold on his hair until he winced. "Any other rule I have to abide by?"

"You're moving in with me."

A weight dropped on her stomach.

She stumbled backwards into her bedroom. The temperature abruptly fell as the adrenaline of hurting him left her. She would be forcibly removed from the only place she felt safe in. "This is the only place that's mine. You are not taking this away from me."

Jumin stalked towards her with great caution as if she were a feral cat, and she felt like one. She hated that he always tried to appease her anger. It was her right to be furious. He had no right to take it away from her.

He took, and took, and took. All the material things he gave her were the pitiful apologies she had no use of.

"You are a danger to yourself," said Jumin. "You have proven that you are not to be trusted alone."

Her eyes darted around her room wildly, taking in the pieces of furniture that she had arranged to her comfort. The sharp-edged hand mirror that Jumin would wrench away from her the second he noticed the dried blood on it. She had forgotten to clean it before triggering the alarm. The blooming dahlia on her dressing table, the only living thing she cared to take care of.

How was it possible that she had no power over Jumin when he was blinded by his love for her? She wanted to be the poison to his existence. The person harbouring more feelings should be dependent on the receiver. Love made you weak, but Jumin used it to fortify his claim on her instead.

This was her present for nurturing the monster in him.

"What will I have left once you take away my home?"

"Calm down," said Jumin. It did nothing but to further incense her. "A relocation is not a complete removal. You will have freedom—within reason—in my penthouse. There's a new room already set up for you. We can decorate it to mimic this current interior. Everything will be tailored to your comfort."

"'We'?" she spat. "I will take no part in dolling up my prison."

"I'm not abandoning you. You will still have your home, with me." Jumin sighed. He stood a few steps away from her, oceans away from the person she once cared about. "I wish you would want me like I want you."

"How do you want me exactly?" Her voice shook with contempt. "Chained to your bed so I can't go anywhere without your permission? Kept on a leash so I have to trail after you like a dog? Sedated so I can be pliant and quiet?"

Jumin studied her, searching for a truth that did not exist. "Would you like that? Would you reciprocate my love if I indulged in your fantasies?"

Her skin crawled at his inference. There was no breakthrough. Every word she threw at him would simply be twisted to his convenience. "What you have for me is not love."

The cords in his neck went taut. "That is the one thing you fail to understand about me."

"You wouldn't have assumed my fantasies if you loved me. You would have asked. My thoughts would matter to you."

"I see." Jumin rubbed his lips with his forefinger. "My apologies. Tell me, what do you like to fantasise about?"

She snatched at his wrist and sank her fingers between his wrist bones, digging into the strains of muscle. She straightened her posture; she was a tall woman, but Jumin had the ability to make her feel smaller, lesser, as if everything that made her could be easily crushed. She supposed there was some truth in it.

"You, dying." She guided his hand to slip into her panties and rubbed at her clit while letting her robe fall around her shoulders. "I picture you dying."

A flash of hurt passed across Jumin's face, but he recovered in the next moment. He kissed her neck and curled two of his fingers into her entrance. She groaned, but they slipped in with some effort.

"I want to see blood around your lifeless body." She gasped when he hit the right spot and her breasts rose and fell at a quickening pace. Jumin's expression when he stared up at her was darkened with lust that he often tried to keep at bay. "Stabbed to utter deformity. Ripped apart until you couldn't haunt me anymore. I want to stain my hands with your blood. I would forever be marred by you."

Jumin pushed her against the wall, his hands never leaving her. "Do you really hate me that much?"

Her gaze flicked to him, desperate for another taste of his pain. But he wore his hunger for her as a shield. There were no chinks in his armour. "It would be proof that I had done something. That I could reduce you into nothing and emerge a victor. I would fucking wear you like a badge of honour."

Jumin slid to his knees and pulled down her panties. The sight of him lowering himself for her should have been glorious, but it filled her with derision. It was just a ruse. They both knew who really held the power in this relationship. "I am not terrified of you."

She sneered down at him. "Killing you would be the best thing I had ever achieved."

Jumin let out a long-suffering sigh and balled up her panties before stuffing them into her mouth. There was a warning in his eyes that made her heart falter, a reminder that this was the person who had destroyed her beyond redemption. "As much as I love your nightmare tongue, I need you to be quiet."

He perched her calf over his shoulder before she could knee him on his face. She had half a mind to do it. But his mouth latched onto her core, tongue swirling in her and sucking her and her thoughts shattered.

Jumin laved at her until her hips bucked. She pushed his head against her and he tightened his bruising hold on her thighs. It was almost comical, how he was allowed to hurt her, but not herself. Her body wasn't even hers, and it was made apparent by the pleasure that Jumin continued to rip out of her.

When Jumin added three fingers and stretched them out, her back arched off the wall. It burned at first, but it quickly dissolved into a pain that she longed for. She was getting close, and she bit on the cloth in her mouth to avoid screaming out Jumin's name. He would not get the satisfaction of winning over her body. This ecstasy was for her and her only.

Her keening grew more desperate and her movements more frantic, but Jumin suddenly stopped. He held her hips against the wall and slowly stood up.

She spitted out the soaked panties. "What—"

"We can finish this at my penthouse," Jumin stated calmly, slick glistening his chin. He glanced at her panties on the floor with disinterest. "There is no need to put on a new underwear when we leave. You won't meet anyone at this hour, and Driver Kim knows better than to comment on your indecent state." He combed through her rustled hair and trailed his fingers down the valley between her exposed breasts.

Her vision turned white. She yanked on his tie until blood rushed to his beautiful, detestable face, until he started choking and coughing. "You're not a good person. You think you're doing the right thing to save me, but you're just as demented for using my body against me. You made me like this. You planted this hatred in me. It's your fault I can't love you."

Jumin pried her fist open with great effort. After taking several moments to catch his breath, he secured her night robe back in place with robotic efficiency. "I'm doing this for your own good. You will understand in the future."

"You should be afraid of me," she gritted out, venom lacing every drop of her word. "I will ruin you. I will."

Jumin's lips curled into a bitter smile and he kissed her, forcing her to taste herself. "You already have."

-

Footnotes:

🤷🏻‍♀️

Buy me a glass of something that’s definitely not coffee because I can’t stand it but it is the website’s name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don’t. I’m still grateful you’ve read all the way through here.

#having more thoughts on jumin being controlling. the brain rot continues #xela writes #tw suicide #jumin han x mc #jumin han smut #jumin han angst #jumin han fic #mystic messenger fanfiction #mysme #jumin han

[lysa1201-saucy]

For these anon’s, just know that I am working on them!!! Been super busy this month but I have the IDEAS, it’s just getting them written down and making sense LMAO

but yes, in process!!!!

#mystic messenger smut #mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin han x reader #jumin han smut #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #obey me smut #obey me shall we date smht

[vampirevatican]

thinking about jumin and this...

let me, elaborate

#.⁠｡⁠*ideas💡━♡ #mysmes jumin han #mysmes smut #he said so much and so little with these calls. #the thoughts i have with just this alone is.. ehehe.. eheh