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#jumin han x mc
astridthevalkyrie · 9 months
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honeymoon period | jumin han x reader
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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)
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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.
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shewrotesomething · 8 months
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Jumin Han - The Day He Realized He Wanted to Marry You
People like to think that CEO’s have it easy. That they sit in their big office with their feet up on their mahogany desk, smoking cigars as they watch the money come in. 
Wrong. It’s weeks of working 80 hours. It’s every minute of your day meticulously planned. It’s stacks of paperwork, 30 urgent emails in an hour, it’s meetings upon meetings upon meetings, it’s… missing three date nights in a row.
Jumin has warned you that these few months will be an especially busy period, but he’ll be sure to fulfill his ‘boyfriend’ responsibilities.
Well… that hasn’t exactly panned out as well as he thought.
The first time he had canceled, you waved it off and said there was no issue. The second time, your smile had wavered, but told him you understood. He tried to console you by saying you could eat at the restaurant by yourself. It was dinner time and the reservation was still there. You turned him down and said you’d rather go home and eat at your place.
And now, well, he was lucky that he couldn’t see your face when he called you to cancel. Still, you were uncharacteristically quiet throughout his monologue. At the end of it, you simply said, “I understand. I’ll catch you later.” 
If you had gotten angry, screamed at him
and cried through the call telling him he was a liar 
and that he always chooses work over you… 
well, he’d take that. In fact, he’d rather have that than the quiet surrender you gave. 
As Jumin’s hands danced across his keyboard to reply to an email, he told himself he can’t drown in the issue too long. What’s done is done, instead, he’lld make it up to you a hundred times over. He’s going abroad next month. He should take you with him. At the hotel you’re staying at, he’ll be sure to fill up the place with your favorite flowers, a nice candle lit dinner, a new outfit, and any purchasable item that you even happen to breathe on. 
Later, he’ll tell you about it. He’ll apologize and tell you about the trip. 
It was nearly lunch time when the glass door to his office swung open.
Before he could even tear his eyes from his computer, the intruder spoke, “Jumin Han.”
There you stood by his door. Hands crossed over your chest. The stern expression on your face made his fingers freeze mid-sentence.
“…hello,” was his lame greeting.
You crossed the room and rounded his table to stand by his side then, to his surprise, set a timer on your watch.
Jumin arched his brow and spun his chair about to face you “What are you—” He clamped his mouth shut when you planted yourself onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his frame.
“There’s a 10 minute window before you go to a lunch meeting. It’s mine,” you declared.
Jumin’s hands retreated from his computer and wrapped around your frame. “Were you feeling lonely, dear?”
“Yes,” you answered with a petulant pout. 
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” you tell him. He could feel the vibration of your voice on his shoulder. “I know this is your life and I won’t be selfish about it. Just give me 10 minutes.”
He wrapped his arms tighter around you. 
There would be times where a passing comment, or a conversation thought to be out of earshot, would say that you were lucky to be with someone like him. Rich, brilliant, young, and handsome, Jumin Han. That was ludicrous. All along, always, he was the lucky one.
“Next mo—” he cut himself off. No, the trip next month was too long. No. “Let’s have dinner tonight. Whatever you want.”
You gasped and giggled. You broke away from the hug to look at his face. “Really? Are you free?”
“I’ll finish work by 8 in the evening, is that okay?”
“Yeah! I can wait. We don’t need to go out. Let’s just eat at your place and watch a movie!” You paused and hummed in thought. “I think I know a good movie that you and I can watch. It’ll be great.”
His hand reached up to caress your face. “I can’t wait.”
It’s a good thing that the trip is next month. It’ll give him some time to find out your ring size and rent a villa for the proposal
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ilyvanderwood · 7 months
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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
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kyonkyon69 · 3 months
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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]
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pochipop · 2 years
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#MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — LOVE LANGUAGES (GIVING/RECEIVING).
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#. synopsis! — how they love and like to be loved .
#. characters! — jumin, yoosung, jihyun (v), saeran (ray), hyun (zen), saeyoung (707) .
#. warnings! — none .
#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .
#. others! — navigation & masterlist .
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𖦹. ━ JUMIN !!
Jumin gives gifts and acts of service. The revolving door of women his father brought in and out of his life profoundly impacted Jumin's view of love. He hardened himself to the idea of it all, closing his emotions off in order to protect himself. Allowing himself to feel, to love and be loved in turn, is a foreign concept to him. However, Jumin is well accustomed to offering physical things as a means of showing appreciation; so giving gifts is a natural part of his immediate range. The same goes for providing acts of service. He's long been seen as the capable businessman, secure in his ability to complete tasks efficiently, so actively doing things for you comes easily to him. Jumin presents you with flowers often, and buys you new jewelry every few weeks. He also indulges you in your hobbies, giving you things to support your endeavors in order to silently cheer you on when words don't come as easily. He offers to help you even when it's clear you don't need it, —just to be sure, and he's on top of every chore and every need you share with him.
Jumin likes to receive quality time & words of affirmation. As a businessman, Jumin knows how precious time is. He's worked against thousands of deadlines by this point in his life, —has set a thousand more in turn, and understands the importance of punctuality and diligence. By no means is his interpersonal relationship standard different in that regard. He feels loved and special when you actively make time for him, because he knows that when someone does that, it's because they care. A lot. Jumin has many insecurities about being in a romantic relationship, worried that he might make one wrong move and watch the foundation crumble. More than anything, he fears being alone. However, those worries can be quenched easily enough by some softly spoken words. Whisper in his ear when he's almost asleep, —pull him in and kiss at the shell of his ear before telling him you're thankful for all the things he's done for you. Shower him in praise every once and a while; let him bask in it. Offering words of affirmation to him will let him know he's doing alright, especially on the days when he feels inadequate as a lover, will go more than a long way. It doesn't take much to soothe him down when it comes from you.
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𖦹. ━ YOOSUNG !!
Yoosung gives physical touch. He's far from shy about loving you. In fact, Yoosung is beyond proud to have you by his side. He really feels like he hit the jackpot with you, —admires you as a person as much as he loves you as a partner. He thinks you're the best, sweetest, most capable person in the entire world, and he shows all of that through lots of varying physical means. Whenever the two of you go out together, his hand is sure to slip its way into your own very quickly. Behind closed doors, he's infinitely clingier. Not that he doesn't understand personal space, and he'll be sure to give it to you if you express that you need it, but Yoosung's main and most prominent love language is physical touch, and he'd like to be near you as often as possible. It doesn't have to be overt: something as simple as sitting close together with your knees resting against one another's is something he'll offer to show he loves you. More than anything, he likes to give you hugs, —the kind that feel a little crushing at first until you relax into them. The warm kind that make you feel safe. Yoosung likes to play with your fingers and hair, likes to trail his fingers down your arms when you're resting against him. He'll press kisses wherever he can: your knuckles, the crown of your head, your cheeks, your forehead, —you name it.
Yoosung likes to receive words of affirmation. All things considered, Yoosung is by no means a demanding partner. In fact, he expects very little from you and would never press for something you were unwilling to give. Still, even someone like him, who comes across as very happy-go-lucky and aloof, needs reassurance every once in a while. In reality, he might need it more than most. He might not show it, but insecurity eats him alive at night, keeps him awake. It doesn't have to be gushing praise, —it doesn't even have to be overwhelmingly overt. Just small acknowledgments in tiny increments, like telling him he should rest because he worked hard today or reminding him to eat properly because he needs to take care of himself. Compliments about his appearance are the least needed since Yoosung isn't much concerned with looks of all things, but he does like to be told that he's handsome, and even if being called "cute" isn't favorable from others, he likes it when you say it. When it comes from you, it doesn't feel condescending, and it doesn't feel like you're speaking down to him or downplaying his maturity. It just makes him smile.
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𖦹. ━ JIHYUN !!
Jihyun gives quality time + acts of service. Guilt runs deep, and Jihyun has not shed the skin of the man he used to be. He has yet to grow into the new flesh of the person he's always yearned to be. He hesitates to touch or offer words of affirmation, lest he make a mistake. But he feels most confident when you sit alongside him; when you watch him work, sit somewhere in the distance and let him take candid pictures of you that he treasures. That quality time fuels him, gives him hope for a brighter future; one where the stars never fail to shine. He likes to feel your presence, even if only from a distance sometimes. Jihyun also goes out of his way to be kind, not out of obligation, but out of desire. When you smile, he feels the warmth of the sun on his skin, —and he seeks to bathe in it for as long as you'll allow. So, he makes you tea or coffee in the mornings, memorizes all your favorite add-ins and the exact amounts you prefer. He pays close attention to the things you enjoy and will offer to help whenever he gets the opportunity. He would go to the ends of the Earth for you if the need arose, but for now, he hopes this freshly prepared lunch is enough to show his love.
Jihyun likes to receive quality time. Since brushing death, Jihyun has come to realize that life is short. In realizing that, he likes to take your time, even if that seems selfish at points. He wants nothing more than for you to be with him, no matter what either of you are doing. He's happy to sit in a silent room with you as you read or finish up some work. All he wants is to be near you. Sometimes, he thinks it's because he hasn't quite grasped that you really do love him, which is of no fault of your own, and unconditionally at that. He hasn't fully processed that you'll love him even when he's weak, —even when he's down and has no idea how to stand up on his own two feet again. All he really wants is for you to be there through all the seasons of him. Experience the chilliest of winters, the most colorful autumns, the sweltering summers, and be there when the middle ground is found once more in his blissful spring retreats as new flowers blossom in the wake of his pent-up tears. He just wants to know that he can turn your way and find you there, ready and willing to listen or even just sit with him for a while.
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𖦹. ━ SAERAN !!
Saeran gives acts of service. It's something he's long grown accustomed to, but this time, they're all of his own free will. Words often fail him, and he clams up when the pressure builds, insisting that there's nothing he wants to say. Be patient with him; give him the time he needs to process things, to accept that he deserves to be loved and to love you. Until then, look for his love in the acts of service he provides. His affection is threaded through the snacks he brings to you when he knows you've been working on something for a while, —it's written in between the lines of the way he makes your dinner plate first and takes it when you're finished to wash the dishes before you can make the move to do so. Saeran's love is muted sometimes, and maybe it's not as loud as he'd like it to be, but he's trying his best one day at a time. Let him take care of the chores he knows you dislike, let him soothe his fears of being unworthy as he asks if you need anything every time he gets up to go to the kitchen. He doesn't yet have another way to tell you how he feels. But know he cares, and he's trying every single day, both for himself and for you.
Saeran likes to receive physical touch + words of affirmation. Though he rarely reacts to either, whether that be positive or negative, he likes it when you put your arms around his neck, pull him in close, and tell him that he's enough. Not in that exact phrasing, of course, as that might be a bit overwhelming to him, but when you thank him for the things he does, he knows what you mean. He appreciates compliments about his intelligence, especially when they don't pertain to his work. Saeran also feels hideous sometimes; both inside and out, so compliments about his physical appearance and general personality go a long way. Especially when you acknowledge that he pays attention to your needs, —those comments let him know that you take his actions into consideration and that you see him, that you see his expressions of love, even if they're quiet. Saeran also yearns for warmth. Share yours with him. Don't be offended by the way he tenses sometimes, or the way his body reacts slowly to physical affection. He likes it, he just isn't used to it yet. But he wants to be. Run your thumb across his knuckles and let him melt into you, let his weary head rest on your shoulder. He needs it.
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𖦹. ━ HYUN (ZEN) !!
Hyun gives physical touch + quality time. When he touches you, each one is a way for him to say "I love you" without having to muster up the courage to do so through verbal means. That's the hard part, and he worries that saying it might make it too real for you, —it makes him scared that you might hear it and run. That's just his own insecurity talking, but his perception is his reality. Feel his love through the way his fingertips ghost across your skin, in the way his lips press against your temple. Hyun cares more than he could ever say with words. When it comes to you, he can't act the part. Everything is stripped bare, core exposed when he's with you. In that time, —the time he makes for you amidst memorizing lines and weaving his way through adoring fans, Hyun is quick to realize what means the most to him. He loves his job, loves performing, loves being an actor, but he loves you just as much. The time he spends with you is sacred to him, and he values it. He just hopes you do too. Though he's a busybody, someone who likes to be doing things at all times in order to feel productive, Hyun still cherishes the moments of peace he finds with you, and he'd give anything to make them longer: even infinite.
Hyun likes to receive words of affirmation + physical touch. Though he's accustomed to compliments as someone who works on the stage under bright, white lights, compliments from you about any and everything are just. . . Different. They hold a different weight than all the others, perhaps because you know him so intimately, and when you tell him he's handsome, you mean it in a way that his fans simply can't. You mean it in the way that every part of him is pretty, —even the ones he hates and tries to bury deep inside. You mean it in the way that he's always dreamed someone would. Hyun also likes to be touched as much as he likes touching you; and little things go a long way. Holding his hand, letting him rest in your lap, smoothing your thumb over the side of his palm when you lace your fingers with his. . . He goes crazy for that stuff, watches himself divulge into a lovesick mess when you kiss him and make him feel like he's the only man in the world. All he really wants is to be enough, and when you hold him close, he knows he is.
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𖦹. ━ SAEYOUNG (707) !!
Saeyoung gives gifts + acts of service. He often feels that his touch, time, and words are invaluable, and his upbringing influenced those feelings into fruition. Saeyoung often feels inadequate and uses humor to cover the scars that run deeper than any flesh wound ever could. Because of this, he often uses his wealth to purchase items for you, and he uses those gifts to express his affections. It's easier for him to give you a present than it is to work up the courage to pull you in and squeeze you until he's had his fill. He also expresses himself through acts of service, —things like getting your favorite snacks and making sure they're always available for you or offering to help you when he sees that you're the one cleaning up around his place rather than Vanderwood, even when he's preoccupied by something else. He's quick to jump at any opportunity to do something kind for you, and he'd even go to dangerous lengths to do it. Not that it'll be necessary!
Saeyoung likes to receive words of affirmation, physical touch, and quality time. He desires everything he fears would never be enough from him. Though he tries not to show it, it's easy for someone close to him (metaphorically and in proximity) to see when he's beating himself up over something. Offer him comfort: hold him, tell him that it's okay for him to not be perfect all the time. He's allowed to feel things, is allowed to make mistakes, because before being a hacker, before being your lover, —he is human. Sometimes, it seems that he forgets that. Your embrace offers him a sanctuary from the harsh realities of the world. Your words numb the ache that lingers in his soul. If you can, he'd also like it if you'd sit with him while he works. It doesn't have to be close to him, —just being in the same room tells him everything he needs to know. He wants your time, even if he's scared to ask for it directly. He wants to crumble into pieces in your arms every once in a while, just so you can hold him together. Saeyoung is human, after all.
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distinguisheddingus · 5 months
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Jumin being Jumin.
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(Really... I was like "wtf V? ")
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juminies · 1 year
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I think that after jumin & you get married he becomes very determined to do things he would & could easily hire people to do before - he wants everything to feel more personal, now he has someone to enjoy his life with. this man absolutely shows you his love through acts of service. he's already good at cooking, but he gets better so he can make you meals more often. he lets you taste as he cooks, makes sure to perfect your favourites. he is convinced he needs to actually get his driving license so he can drive you places. he does get it after a painstakingly long time and many grumpy declarations of "why do I need a piece of paper to tell me I can drive? I'm perfectly fine as is." he doesn't end up driving often anyway, but when he does he can never help but constantly sneak glances at you across from him when he knows it's safe (he's accidentally stayed still when a light changes to green a few times though. you're better at keeping his attention than a traffic light is). he never really had much reason to take spur of the moment photos before, but he has a revelation one day when he desperately wants to capture a moment of you but every single one of the photos he took are horrible. he calls jihyun and before he can even get out a hello, jumin announces that jihyun must clear his schedule because he needs photography lessons immediately. he buys a digital camera to carry with him everywhere and for a while every single photo on it is of you. he starts a photo album, which finally convinces him to let you take some photos of him to add. he's not good at selfies, but insists you take them together and they go in the album too. he absolutely loves doing little touchy affectionate things for you every now and then; taking off your makeup when you're tired, washing your hair when you shower together. he is determined to make everything intimate now, because he so deeply believes you deserve his time however he can give it to you
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mystic-headcanons · 7 months
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the rfa at the eras tour
this is entirely self indulgent LMAO but here's how the characters would be @ the eras tour.
zen would love the concert. while he may not listen to all of her music, he very much enjoyed the entire set and especially loved how happy you were to be there. probably wouldn't join in on any of the chants or trade any bracelets, but instead looks at you with a smile every time you do. definitely takes a lot of pictures of you, and taylor, and then the both of you because your matching outfits are just the cutest. his favorite era would either be lover-- he can't help but look at you throughout the entirety of lover-- or 1989, because the visuals and the sound just completely enrapture him.
yoosung would just be happy to be there! knows her earlier stuff, but doesn't really know anything beyond 1989. goes feral over the fearless era, and screams almost as loud as you along to love story. if there's a proposal at your concert, you can bet he'd be crying while witnessing it-- and also a little jealous that he didn't think of the same idea. poor boy almost dies during vigilante shit-- his face is redder than a tomato and he chokes on his spit as he tries to look anywhere but the stage. you take many photos of this.
saeyoung is almost as excited as you are. he lives for anything that lets him dress up. he sat there making hundreds of friendship bracelets for you, spent hours shopping both online and in person for the perfect matching outfits, learned every chant and every song so he could fully enjoy the experience with you. and he did! however, any video anyone within five feet of him took would be unusable because he'd he screaming at the top of his lungs. holds you close during the lover and speak now era and definitely cries at one point during the show. fills up the entirety of his phone storage with only pictures and videos of you and him or just you.
jumin is. not having a good time. LMAO this man doesn't like huge crowds like that, and doesn't know most of the songs and craves the quiet comfort of his home. however, one look at you has him relaxing and a small, soft smile taking over his tense features. this was entirely for you, of course, and seeing you so happy and excited was enough to quiet any discomfort he might've felt. doesn't take any photos or videos, but he'll let you pull him down for selfies. the only video he has from that night is the one you sent to him of him kissing the crown of your head during lover.
jaehee is just excited to be there with you! she's a casual fan of taylor swift-- she doesn't really fangirl over anyone that's not zen-- so she probably won't know any of the chants, and definitely won't trade any bracelets, but she'll happily dress up with you. sings along under her breath to the songs that she knows, and just nods along to the ones that she doesn't. really likes the midnights era- and especially vigilante shit. blushes whenever you hold her hand or kiss her cheek or sing to her during the love songs. she takes one or two photos.
saeran absolutely refuses to go with you at first. attending a three and a half hour concert with thousands of people attending sounds like his own personal hell, but when you go to ask saeyoung to accompany you, saeran finally relents. "fine!" he'll grumble, "no need to ask my idiot brother. i'll go with you." you...hadn't suggested that to make him change his mind, but. a win is a win! he doesn't do any of the chants or any of the bracelets, and doesn't dress up. (or, at least, he doesn't wear anything he wouldn't usually wear, but. it's looks pretty reputation era, so you're happy.) despite his grumbling and his anxiety, saeran really did love seeing you so happy and carefree. is surprised by how much he enjoyed the reputation era, and ignores your smug look as he adds the songs to his playlist later on. refuses to take any pictures or videos, and will only be in a few for you.
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marsystarsy · 1 year
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after the party
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onlinekitsune · 1 year
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Reactions to MC confessing their feelings first ◛ ♥︎
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tis the season for writing sweet confessions!!! i just wanted an excuse to write some cute stuff with some of the mysmes characters! might include a tad bit of angst but it’s worth it i promise!! also some minor route spoilers, nothing direct
JAEHEE KANG ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡
honestly was pretty hesitant to give an answer, not because she didn’t like you, but because she was completely enamored by you, was so shocked about her feelings and how you made her feel, it was a good feeling but so very new, after thinking on it she said yes, she didn’t want to lose you nor this feeling, she was a bit intimidated and timid about dating, but knew with you she’d be okay, she’d apologize for her delayed answer by gifting you flowers on your first date, you couldn’t help but noticed how bright she was with you
JUMIN HAN ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡
being a ceo of a multibillion dollar company it wasn’t odd to be confessed to, jumin had grown used to it and thought of them to be annoyances, however when you confessed and asked him on a date it was so very different, jumin couldn’t recall the other confessions leaving him this way, his heart fluttered and he felt the heat rise from his collar, the way your voice sounded saying his name echoed in his head, he was stunned and was lost in his thoughts, when you tilted your head he snapped back and immediately said yes, he planned your date for that very night
SAERAN CHOI ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡
thoroughly convinced that this was a dream, but after blinking three times you still were stood there smiling, his heart ached, on one hand he loved you dearly, you made him incredibly happy and made his world blossom, on the other he was still dealing with the guilt, he dragged you into a not so pleasant situation, that could of gone incredibly wrong, he didn’t deserve you, you knew him too well to know what was going on in his head, you added reassurance that you wanted to be with him and what happened was more complicated than what he thought, sorting out he feelings he decided on a yes, he wanted to make it up to you
SAEYOUNG CHOI ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡
when you confessed to him, he couldn’t help but to laugh and give you a little pout, he was planning to confess to you first, and was a little upset (in a funny/not serious way) that you done it first, accepted but pestered you to let him plan the date since you “ruined” his confession, he made sure the date was very dramatic and as extravagant as he could make it, it was clear on how much you meant to him just by that alone
V / KIM JIHYUN ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡
half surprised half filled with guilt, after everything that has happened he was convinced that he wasn’t worthy of love, but after meeting you, after getting closer to you he couldn’t help but fall hard for you, he admitted his mutual feelings but shared his feelings that he didn’t feel worthy enough, you of course told him he was absolutely worthy, you didn’t want anyone else, you wanted to show him what true love really was, and you did, he didn’t know how freeing and beautiful true love actually was
YOOSUNG KIM ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡
he couldn’t believe it, you actually shared the same feelings as him, it was like a miracle or a blessing, you couldn’t imagine someone who had more of a golden retriever energy than yoosung at that moment, you could almost see his imaginary tail wagging at incredible speed, he was very excited and eagerly wanted to plan your first date asap, would be the type to plaster the date you asked him everywhere he could, also would brag to the chat immediately, even though everyone but him had seen it coming
ZEN / HYUN RYU ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡
two words: reverse uno, it was quite ironic that you two confessed at the same time, but it was exactly on brand for the two of you, you both laughed it over and obviously said yes, it was a no brainer for either of you, you both brought out the brightest sides of each other, you two were bound to be together, soulmates one could say, zen would love to tell anyone who asked about how you two goth together, he thought the both of you confessing at the same time was incredibly adorable, you couldn’t help but agree
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omgjumin · 2 years
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Omg Jumin with fem reader smut prompt #17 please HELP ME RELINQUISH MY THIRST MA'AM
the meeting - han jumin!
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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.
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"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?"
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threadbaresweater · 7 months
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The Silent Treatment | Jumin Han
She's angry, and she won't tell him why. Thankfully, Jumin knows a few creative ways to coax it out of her.
I wrote this over two years ago, but it's such a personal comfort fic when I'm feeling out of sorts. It's not meant to be reader insert, though you could certainly interpret it that way. At the time, I was writing with the game MC in mind (long, dark hair, brown eyed, kind of generic). Content warnings: NSFW. Female main character, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, unhealthy communication practices (MC refuses to talk to Jumin with her words). 1.4k words. Divider by @/cafekitsune
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She’d been quiet since they left a rather uptight dinner party earlier that evening; Jumin, admittedly, had been rather preoccupied with guests, with other business people. She excused herself halfway through the after dinner cocktail hour and retreated to the courtyard, pretending to be deeply interested in the ornate fountain; with a few glasses of wine and the din of conversation at her back, she grew bored, dizzy, sleepy. Jumin had bought her a new dress for the occasion– royal blue, off-the-shoulder, a scandalous slit along her right leg, and she suddenly felt cheap and attention seeking, wishing she’d thought to grab her shawl from the coatroom before venturing out alone. 
Jumin found her long after most of the other guests had left. He wasn’t angry; no, he was anxious because she’d slipped away without him having noticed, and perhaps even a little disappointed in her and himself for the situation at hand. Tentatively, he cupped her elbow and watched her shoulders tense in response, though she didn’t turn around. “Let’s go home, my love,” he said simply; she allowed herself to be led to the car in silence, where she turned toward the window and refused, still, to talk to him.
They arrived home in deafening silence. She faced forward in the elevator ride, arms crossed, cheeks blazing, jaw set firm. Jumin continued to fret, though mostly inward– his heart beat fast, his stomach bottomed out, his head tingled. And when they reached their floor, she stepped away from him with purpose, inserting her key into the door and leaving it wide open for him as she made a bee-line for the bedroom to rid herself of the dress and slip into a nightgown.
Jumin stood in the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine, took a long drink, then bent to pet Elizabeth, who pranced at his feet. Even she felt the tension, and her silky fur was a temporary reprieve for him. He sensed his wife’s presence before he saw her standing there, barefoot and ethereal even in her ire. And he rose to his full height, taking in her face– blotchy and red from crying, all of her makeup stripped clean. Even then, he thought her radiant as an angel, though her silence had begun to wear on him.
“You do realize…” Jumin began, taking her chin in his hand and lifting her face toward his, “that you’re being incredibly stubborn right now.” 
She still wouldn’t look him in the eye, though his grip was firm, unrelenting. Not in a possessive or hurtful way, but with a touch that said look at me. Stop being ridiculous. She continued to stare at the floor as tears clouded her vision, hot and prickly. She knew damn well she was being unreasonable, but she was far too committed to her mood, her demeanor. 
“Darling,” he persisted, taking one step closer to her to slip an arm around her waist. “If you won’t talk, I’ll have to find other means to coax it out of you.”
She shook her head weakly and sniffled, obnoxiously loud and purposefully long. Jumin recoiled– temporarily derailed– and laughed, derisive and short. She turned and stepped out of the room, down the hall, and flung open the door to the balcony overlooking the city. Grasping the railing, she bent over at the waist and closed her eyes, the tears flowing freely now as the wind blew her hair around her face.  Jumin followed and stood at the doorway to watch her, bewildered. He wanted to apologize, though for what he wasn’t entirely sure. She’d never quite closed off to him in such a way. Sure, there had been arguments, lover’s quarrels, tiny tiffs...but she’d always come around after a few hours. She’d give in and fall into his waiting, aching arms, apologizing for being so stubborn. 
This– this, he could hardly bear. 
“Darling.” He tried again and moved to stand behind her. At his touch upon her shoulder, she gripped the railing harder, gritting her teeth. She didn’t want him to see her softening. She couldn’t look him in the eye because then she’d be putty in his hands, and she was quite insistent on proving that she could be uptight and unforgiving when she so desired. But the longer his hand remained on her skin, the more his warmth seeped into her presence; soon, she felt her hair being brushed over one shoulder and a puff of breath upon her neck before his lips grazed just behind her ear. “Are you ready to talk now?”
She simply shook her head, set her jaw, and closed her eyes; then, she circled slowly so that he could look upon her face, and he leaned forward, encasing her between himself and the wrought iron railing.
“Do you want to...not talk?”
Her answer was a slight protrusion of her bottom lip that looked so enticing and delicious he had no other choice but to claim it with his mouth; his tongue pushed against her teeth until she opened to him with a low whine. 
He carried her off to bed then and took his sweet time working out her anger, her frustration. Smug while he buried his head between her thighs, he quietly thrilled in the way her body bent and twisted while his fingers pressed, possessive, into the muscles that flexed and relaxed. She pulled his hair, she gasped for air, but she refused to make noise. 
“Let me hear you.” He paused and looked up at her, and in a moment of weakness she met his eyes before shutting hers tight once more. 
She refused to give him such satisfaction, though he was making quite sure that she would be satisfied when he was finished with her. 
He only wanted to hear her sing.
So with a broad, careful stroke of his tongue, he found her weakness– the delicate skin upon the inside of her thigh, just outside of where she was most desperate for him. He sank his teeth into the flesh there, then soothed it with a kiss; his fingers gathered the wetness at her core and pushed inside until her lower back arched away from the mattress.
She bit down on her knuckles to quell her cries and exhaled a sharp breath through her nose. Still, she refused to make a sound.
He curled those fingers and cupped her sex, determined to hear her, marvelling in the arousal that coated his fingers and eased his task, though he could hardly consider it strenuous by any stretch of his imagination. A delightful endeavor, one that both enthralled and aroused him enough that he was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to be inside her, to feel her pull him in, slick against his own need.
And so he withdrew his fingers and flipped her without warning so that she was perched on all fours and he could sink himself inside. She fell forward with a surprised grunt, a white-knuckled grip on black satin sheets while she buried her face in a pillow to keep from crying out.
His arm hooked around her middle then and pulled her upright, back against his chest so that he could thrust up into her. She sank her teeth into his forearm, but it only spurred him forth harder; he treated her left shoulder in much the same fashion, admiring his mark against the sheen of sweat on her rosy skin.
“Damn you,”  she hissed, reaching behind to tug at his hair, to hold him close (to pull him further inside her). 
At her peak, she cried out his name in the middle of a string of expletives– blubbering, whimpering, pleading with him to have mercy. He gave her none as he pulled her hair, exposing her neck so that he could taste her there as he came. 
He laid her gently upon the bed and licked a bead of sweat from her cheek when they parted, then nestled himself behind her with a rather self-satisfied chuckle.
“Are you still angry with me?” Words spoken into her skin, fingertips trailing from her shoulder down the length of her arm until he found her hand and slipped his fingers between hers. 
“Yes.”
“Are you going to tell me why?”
She sighed heavily; turned away from him, he couldn’t see the grin that spread across her face, or the way her eyes twinkled with afterglow. “No.”
“Will you tell me if I draw us a bath?” 
That gave her pause, and she flexed her toes, pushing her backside further against him.
“Maybe.”
“Lavender oil?”
“Rose.”
“Noted,” he said, rising from the bed.
In the bathtub, he coaxed her to speak again in whispers and moans, but by then she’d forgotten just why she was angry in the first place.
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redstripstrawberry · 2 years
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Monopoly | Jumin x Reader
Summary: Jumin is spiraling down in his thoughts about you. He monologues about his internal conflict between his ugly desires and his genuine love for you.
Look at you. You’re humming while you’re cooking. Your hair looks soft as it partially covers your face. The sunlight through the penthouse window is making you glow and ethereal. He’s standing next to you, quiet and admiring, and you feel it, he knows. There’s something with you that makes him so entranced. You steal a glance at him through your hair, and it’s adorable to him. You smile as you make eye contact, and he’s fallen instantly.
It is safe in this moment. Is it because you’re here? He never knew seeing you cook would be so serene and precious. The still and quiet picture of him helping and you leading the way makes him feel so grateful, so incomprehensibly vulnerable that he couldn't even picture if it could before you. This floaty and heart-skipping feeling is so new and vivid for him.
He wants more of this and more of you. The fluid chemistry, the genuineness from the both of you for each other, the loyalty, the mudane mornings, all of it. You're handling the skillet while he's chopping up veggies, elbows almost within reach. It’s incredibly maddening when your bodies are so close but not exactly touching. His fondness grows stronger in moments like these, but so do other… questionable emotions.
This high he feels when you two are together: he knows nothing can replace it. And it's why he wants it all to himself, to be drunk and drowning in these feelings of love. He knows now how liberating love can be. To be filled with neverending passion but also with mudane calmness. Jumin knows the euphoria of you. He wants it all. With such a powerful feeling of desire and understanding of such value, the fear of something going wrong is equally as powerful.
When you’re with him, you make him go crazy, paranoid, and anxious, anxious, anxious.
But the emotion he hates most of all when he sees you smile so genuinely at him is greed. Unadulterated and ugly desire to keep you to himself. To keep you safe so nothing can harm you. He needs more from you. Your wholesomeness and sincerity can be so easily corrupted. He has to protect you from being influenced by anything that can deter you from being you. But he knows that it’s not only just that. He wants to protect you to protect himself. The pain of you leaving is too unbearable for him to even fathom. It scares him so much to know this is possible.
He realizes that being too lost in you makes him rear his ugly fixations. You wouldn’t like to see this side at all. A gentleman wouldn’t dare think of his beloved like this. It’s not right. He’s going to hurt you when he thinks like this. The internal conflict in him eats him up, even more so than his admiration at times. He knows that he would never admit it. He is such an ugly mutant that puts on a show for everyone, all the while harboring these secretive and ugly emotions behind his mask, better to hide himself than show who he really is. Would you even love him still? How would you even react if you knew that these feelings still reside in his mind? Who does he think he is that deserves such genuineness from you even though he hides how he really thinks? It feels like your love is too much and too generous. He's undeserving. Why would you be with someone who’s so secretly so warped and twisted on the inside?
His eyes grow dark once more, as he unintentionally focuses on the food you’re making. You glance at him again and realize he’s lost in thought. You gently brush his hand with yours, and he snaps his eyes back to you.
“I love you, Jumin,” you say as you smile again.
And just like that, his fear vanishes. Yes, that’s right, you love him. It is all of him that you love, as you expressed in your vows. How stupid of him to forget that you know all the faces he has shown you and that you accept them all. He’s spiraling again.
“I love you most, my dear,” Jumin expresses earnestly.
There’s a lot of work he needs to do to be someone you are proud to be with, but he knows you’ll be there every step of the way.
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ilyvanderwood · 1 year
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The so called 'Star of the Show'
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Everyone was excited for the RFA party, mainly since they get to meet you but... where is the 'star of the show' at? Everyone knew you where here but you randomly vanished into dust a few moments in. Little did anyone know, you where being fucked by your boyfriend in a unused room on the top floor.
Warnings : Threesome (FMM), Rough sex, a few mentions of Afab, breeding (?), smut ofc, degradation, pictures/photos taken, implied cumdump. at end
A/N : I don't normally write smut but this was going off in my head so i tried... srry if its bad too LMAO
Smut under cut <3
"AH~ Va-Vanderwood, pl-please slOW-" you get cut off mid sentence 'cause Vanderwood shoved his fingers in your mouth.
"Quiet... You don't want them to hear you now, do you?" He asks lightly compared to his speed while biting your ear. You lightly shake your head no but just enough to let him get the message.
*Knocking* Your eyes widen as you hear a familiar voice. "Y/N ? Are you there?" The voice behind the door asks. Vanderwood takes his fingers out of your mouth but keeps on slamming into you.
"Y-yeah-"you say quickly, before you knew it the door was opened and you saw a very familiar figure standing there shocked. Jumin quickly closes the door enough that a crack is visible
"I-I'm sorry but, Seven wanted me to let you know that your speech is soon" he says before quickly walking away. You turn red, while Vanderwood doesn't seem to care because he wasn't seen.
You both put back on your clothes and run off to the party looking like nothing happened. When you arrived everyone was crowding you other than two tall figures, talking to each other. You obviously didn't think much about it because you had other matters on your plate.
*i dont feel like writing the speech*
After your speech you regroup with Vanderwood and you guys are on your way out when he stops you. Looking in front of you, you see Jumin's car with Driver Kim holding the door open. Vanderwood lightly pushes you towards the car so that you understood what was going on. You enter the car and sit across from Jumin while Vanderwood sits next to you. The entire ride was so silent you swore you could hear a pin drop from a mile away.
Once you got to Jumin's Penthouse, you noticed Vanderwood getting out and signing for you to get out as well. Once you hopped out the car you went up to the room with the two males, one in front and the other in the back. When you reach the room you get pushed in and land on Jumin.
"Seems like your little friend liked what he saw earlier." A voice whispers in your ear. Before you knew it, Vanderwood was ripping apart your panties and tights while Jumin was taking off your dress and bra. Once your completely naked Jumin carry's you to the couch while Vanderwood leaves the room to gather something.
"..fuck" you lightly mummble when you land on the couch. The thought of two men fucking you made you wet. Jumin reaches behind you to grab some lube while the other male came back with a few other items. The two men set you in between each other before grabbing the materials laid out for them.
"What does the little whore want first... the vibrator or dildo?" Jumin whispers in your ear while putting on a gag and a blindfold to cover your view from the two males.
"Why not both? I bet the slut can take it, now can you." Vanderwood responds pulling your back to his chest so there is better access to your hole. Jumin stuffs the dildo and the vibrator into your hole at once while Vanderwood turns up the remote to the max. It makes you jump a bit and arch your back.
The feeling of soft hands around your body makes everything feel so much better. You go to move your hand to your clit when one of the two takes your arm and holds it tight to prevent it from moving. You start to shake a bit when you feel yourself coming up it all stops when the vibrator and dildo gets taken out of your hole and the gag is taken off of you.
"Now.. what does our whore want?" Vanderwood says pinching your nipples making you gasp.
"Fuck me... both of you.." you respond almost immediately out of breath.
"Say it as a good girl would." Jumin says, as he aligns himself to your hole.
"Please fuck m- Ah~!" you get cut off when you feel two dicks slam into you all at once. Its one of the best things you've ever felt. Two cocks slamming into you simultaneously . They slowing become a pattern when one slams into you then the other.
"AaaH~! P-please cum in m-me" you say out of nowhere catching both of the boys off guard but they yet continued. You could feel yourself coming closer and after one last slam, you moaned pretty loudly as you orgasmed all over both of their dicks. They slowly came after and came in your hole at once.
When they pulled out, you where such a mess. Hair everywhere, drooling and their seed leaking out of your hole. Jumin takes a quick few photos before taking off the blindfold. You go to stand up when you get brought back down by Vanderwood.
"Where do you think you're going? We're not done with you yet." He whispers in your ear while nibbling at the lobe. I mean.. at least a few more rounds wont be that bad... right?
wrote this half awake LMAO
Masterlist | Ao3
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goblins-writing · 2 years
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Imagine going to an art museum with Jumin. Slowly observing the works of art, hand in hand. Kissing under the large portraits and posing with the statues. It's sweet and allows him to realize just how truly in love with you he is. "I think you're a work of art," he murmurs into your hair later that evening when you are asleep. Somewhere in your dream world, you hear him and smile.
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pochipop · 2 years
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#MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — ASKING THEM TO SLOW DANCE AT THE PARTY.
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#. synopsis! — asking them to slow dance with you at the official rfa party .
#. characters! — jumin, yoosung, hyun (zen) .
#. warnings! — none .
#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .
#. others! — navigation & masterlist .
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𖦹. ━ JUMIN !!
Jumin took a few ballroom dancing classes when he was young, but never found himself enjoying it. He'd only attended diligently because his father had insisted that he do so, and back then, Jumin had yet to learn how to stand against that man's frivolous wishes. Thankfully, the need to attend the classes went out the window after Jumin's father and one of the young, female instructors ended their fleeting relationship. So, he never went back, and the proper way to dance elegantly with a partner that Jumin once memorized in order to appease those around him eventually got lost to time.
When you take hold of his hand, your warmth seeping from your palm to his own, and ask him if he wants to dance with you to the slow song that just began playing. . . He hesitates.
"I'm not much of a dancer," he says, —but he hates the way that little twinkle of excitement in your eyes dies out like a meteor crashing to Earth's surface. 
You're not going to force him to do something he's uncomfortable with, and that much he knows for certain. But he also knows that you've put yourself in some very precarious situations in order to help and even protect him, and he feels it would be wrong to deny you something so small. In the end, if he were to make a fool of himself, you'd still love him. You'd still be there, even if everyone else were to turn his way and laugh. Your opinion matters to him more than anyone else's in the room.
"As long as you're alright with having me as a partner, though. . . I'll give it my best," Jumin adds.
It doesn't really matter to you how he performs. You just want to feel his hands on you, holding steady along your hips with your own arms around his neck. This isn't a dancing competition, after all, you're simply seeking closeness and something a little romantic to sweeten the pot. Two slow songs had gone by, and you were worried that as the party drew to a close, you might not get another chance to ask. By the time the third one began, you'd gathered up nerve to do so, and you were elated when he didn't choose to turn you down.
Your heart bursts as the dimmed lights glimmer off his eyes. A rainbow of colors reflects off his irises like stained glass windows to the soul. He takes one of your hands in his own, and you watch as his long, lithe fingers find their homes in the slits between your own. His other arm reaches out, allowing the flat of his hand to match the curve of your body, touching just along your side. Sheepishly, you bring your free hand up to rest along his shoulder.
Even now, when you can feel the stiffness and slight apprehension in his body and in the way he moves, Jumin looks as elegant as ever. There's something regal about him, as if he were born with such high confidence and the ability to work his way smoothly through any situation. Of course, you've seen many sides of him by now, but. . . You'd still venture to call him princely, even after knowing all you do.
When you meet his gaze and offer him a small, bashful smile, his lips curve up at the edges.
"I feel honored when you smile at me," he comments softly, mumbling the words into your hair before pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.
Some eyes naturally draw to Jumin as he dances with you, stiffness melding into something much more fluid as he relaxes into the movements. You know a few women here at the party are looking on with scorn in their eyes, jealous of you for being so close to the man they dream of. Still, you can't bring yourself to care much about them when Jumin pulls you closer, his grip steadying.
Others are simply shocked that Jumin is dancing with someone so intimately, seeing as he's gone the vast majority of his career without ever parading a lover about. And even now, that's hardly what he plans to do. He doesn't care if people don't understand. . . All that matters is that you see right through him as if he's made of glass. Shattered glass that you've somehow managed smoothed back together.
You've taken the mangled threads inside him into your graceful hands, nimble fingers untangling the mess he's been caught in for as long as he can remember. You've soothed the ache inside him, —and your heart skips a beat when his breath ghosts against the shell of your ear as he whispers to you that he loves you.
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𖦹. ━ YOOSUNG !!
Yoosung has lived a fairly normal life, all things considered. He never learned how to slow dance, just like many young men his age. There wasn't really a reason for him to do so, and if he's being honest, the idea of it has never particularly appealed to him. After all, you're the first lover he's ever had, and he's at least eighty-five percent sure that you need a partner to slow dance with before you can really figure out how to get the hang of it.
So, when you ask Yoosung if he'd like to dance with you, he initially panics a little, worried that maybe slow dancing is just something everyone knows how to do, and somehow he's been left completely out of the loop.
"I. . . I don't really know how," he admits, "—but if you want to, then I'd like to try!"
If you were anyone else, he'd have wrapped that up by requesting that you not make fun of him for having no clue what he's doing. But, you are, in fact, you, and Yoosung knows that you're not the type to make fun of him when he's making an active effort to please you.
The music is soft and slow. It plays in the background like a living soundtrack synced to your heartbeat as Yoosung puts his arms around your middle and you rest your hands along his shoulders. He shivers under your touch, still reeling from the idea that someone like you is his, —his to love, to respect, and to admire like you're some celestial being that ascended from the heavens above. His heart is beating like a drum, and with you being so close, his cheeks flush a pale pink at the idea that you may be able to hear it.
"Am I doing this right?" The blond asks, glancing down at his feet for the fifth time within a minute, careful not to step on your toes.
"You're doing fine," you reply, massaging your fingers into his shoulder ever so gently in hopes that it might soothe some of his worries.
Yoosung feels his heart blossom at your touch. He's never felt like this before, and he's not sure what to do with himself. His heart throbs more with every brush of your fingertips, and all he can think about is you, —your eyes that temper the anxiety as it crawls up his spine, threatening to send him into another downward spiral. Your lips that he's brushed his own over, and every single time it's sent a shockwave of starkly innocent pleasure to every cell in his body.
"It doesn't even matter how you dance," you add softly, "—as long as I'm dancing with you, I don't care about anything else."
He feels himself melt like wax under a wick's flickering flame. If he could, he'd like to crawl inside your heart and live there, safe and warm. Yoosung feels comfortable here, when he's close to you and has nothing left to hide. His walls have come down, and you've embraced him, —all of him. The broken young man he still is on dark, lonely nights as well as the smiling student he shows the world so they won't worry. He wants you to see every face, meet every version of him, because he knows you'll love each and every one of them down until he's learned how to weld himself back together again.
"I'm really happy to hear that," he says, voice nearly catching in the back of his throat.
You feel his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer to him. When you rest your forehead against his chest, he doesn't bother to bite back the happy smile that forces its way onto his face.
This is what true love feels like. . .
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𖦹. ━ HYUN (ZEN) !!
Hyun is no stranger to dancing. In his line of work, he's mastered lots of talents in order to be eligible for a wider array of roles. It's certainly paid off, if his diverse history of characters and projects is anything to go off of, —but even so, dancing with his lover seems to present a completely different challenge. There are so many more emotions with this; real ones that he doesn't have to muster up the skill to act out. These are raw and just about as genuine as Hyun has ever felt anything at all, —so authentic that it's driving him wild.
It's not that he fears messing up. Much the opposite in fact, Hyun is fairly certain everything will go his way, and even if it didn't, he knows you would be the last person in the room to laugh at his expense. Still, he's never been in love. Not for real, anyway. He's played a lovesick fool under blindly white lights or up on a velvety stage, but he's never let someone in like this. He's never torn himself open to let someone else see everything that lingers below that confident, handsome surface. You're the first to know him inside and out, and that scares him as much as it quenches his anxiety.
When you ask him to dance, he shoots you a smile and quickly agrees, but you take note of the way his crimson eyes quiver. The sharpness of them dulls a bit, —and you make note of it, reminding yourself to tread gently with him.
While he plays up the inner beast that seeks to devour his love, you know well and good that sometimes, that so-called beast is nothing more than a silly little puppy frolicking behind in Hyun's shadow.
"I've slow danced for performances before, but this. . . This is my first time with someone I actually love," Hyun admits.
His strong arms are tight around your waist, keeping you close to him, while your arms are wrapped around his neck. He guides you, clearly being the more experienced of the two when it comes to dancing of this kind, —and he does it with such delicate precision that it's hard to imagine he could be anything less than perfectly confident about it. But, then again, Hyun does seem to be completely and utterly golden in nearly every aspect, almost too much to be real. . . And yet there's something much less flattering (in his own eyes, anyway,) that lingers below the surface.
"It still feels a little bit like a dream," you admit, "—to hear you say you love me, that is."
With robotic precision, Hyun guides you in this dance. His grip is secure and snug, but far from tight. He offers just enough pressure to set your heart on fire.
"Really?" He blinks, shocked to hear you say that to him, as if you've managed to read his mind and spout his own sentiments right back at him. "I feel like I should be the one saying that to you."
The giggle that erupts from the back of your throat leaves Hyun laughing softly with you before he bends over slightly and presses his forehead to your own. Sighing gently, he mumbles your name under his breath. Your heart skips a beat at the mere sound of it as it falls from his full lips. If it were physically possible, he'd pull you close. But, unfortunately for the both of you, it's not, —especially if you're keen on continuing this dance with him.
Hyun likes that there's no pressure here with you, no demands that he knows he has to meet at the end of it all. You don't want anything in particular from him. . . You just want him as he is, no qualifiers or conditions attached.
This, he thinks to himself, is what falling in love feels like.
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