#MC x jumin

[panickingpansexuality]

Walk me down the Aisle

Mcs father isn't able to walk her down the aisle and when Jumins dad hears about this he has a suggestion.

"Ok," Jaehee said looking down at the planner the two of you had set up for your wedding.

"Now who are we gonna ask to walk you down the aisle?"

You winced and leaned back into the sofa. Currently you two were at the penthouse, with Jaehee being the maid of honor and in constant need of rest you decided to plan at a comfortable place and with Jumin gone for the week it was a perfect place for you both to plan.

"He's not gonna be able to get out." You say looking at her, her softened expression makes you turn away before the tears start to form.

"I see.." Jaehee says before scribbling the word from the list.

"Now.." Mc see says, "What would you like to wear as my maid of honor?"

Jaehee laughs and speaks, "Nothing to revealing."

"What about a dress with Zens face on it?"

Jaehee goes bright red and you can't help but laugh, she starts to do the same and has trouble catching her breath before saying.

"Absolutely not."

Your phone rings and you see its your lover, you answer the phone and put it on speaker.

"Hello my love." You say to Jumin.

"Hello my wife."

You smile at his words a flush forming on your cheeks.

"Are you and Assistant Kang planning the wedding still?"

With how close you and Jaehee we're becoming Jumin did try to call her Ms. Kang or Jaehee but they both found it too awkward and were a little uncomfortable with it.

"Yes we're almost done with our side of the list. How are you and V coming along with yours?"

"We're progressing slowly, do you want Zen as a bridesman or would you be alright if I asked him to be a groomsman?"

"I'll be alright with whatever you choose. Though whichever one of us take Seven he's going to wear a dress weather we like it or not."

You can see him rubbing his temples through the phone and you giggle, Jaehee beside you rolling her eyes.

"I might kill him for that." Jumin says.

You giggle turns into a bark of laughter and you can't see it but he's smiling at the sound of your voice.

"I'll be home tomorrow my love. One more day."

"Ah you shouldn't have told me I'll be waiting all night for your plane now."

Jumin chuckles and says:

"I'd rather you have enough energy for our activities tomorrow."

Jaehee nearly spits out her wine, she looks at you with wide eyes and you shake your head frantically.

"I have to go now MC please sleep well tonight. I love you."

"I love you too." You say before he hangs up.

For a moment the two of you are very quiet before Jaehee says;

"Activities huh?"

"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!"

The next afternoon Driver Kim picks you up at the penthouse, when you go down into the car you see Mr. Han in the car with a bright smile.

"Hello mc!" Your soon to be father in law says.

"Hello Mr. Han." You say friendly but formally. You enter the car and Mr. Han speaks as Mr. Kim shuts the door.

"Oh now don't call me that," he says, "Please call dad or father."

"Yes sir, I mean yes dad or, yes father." You say nervously.

He laughs and you two fall into polite conversation. The current plan is to wait for Jumin to come to the car completely unaware that you two were picking him up.

You two sit and wait anxiously searching for him in the crowd Mr. Han can't help but admire the way you look for his son. Young love, he fondly remembers the way he once felt.

"He's coming!" You say excitedly.

Mr. Kim opens Jumins side and once Jumin sees you in the car his face breaks out into a grin.

"Hi!" You say breathlessly.

"God I missed you." Jumin says stepping, the door closing behind him. He kisses your lips quickly the promise of more later, then turns to his father.

"How was the trip son?" Mr. Han asks.

"Successful." Jumin says, "I'm proud of the work that was put in."

"Did you have fun?" He asks. "Perhaps you should take MC next time so you can enjoy yourself."

Jumin looks over at you with a small smile.

"It would increase my enjoyment of the trip but I'm afraid that MC would be a distraction and that I wouldn't be able to give them the attention they need."

"I think you could." Mr. Han says, "You've always been able to surprise yourself."

Jumin is taken aback by the compliment but merely nods.

"So what all has been planned for the wedding? MC are your parents coming to walk you down the aisle?"

Jumin reaches over and clutches your hand instinctively, you take a deep breath and straighten your posture.

"My mother I'm afraid has..prior engagements and my father.. he's incarcerated.. and while he was supposed to get out recently it appears his sentence has been...lengthened."

Mr. Han is quiet for a moment, Jumin tenses, ready to defend you until you two have to walk or perhaps even wait in a shop while Mr. Kim takes his father home then comes back to retrieve you both, but Mr. Han simply says:

"Your father I understand but your mother? You're her child! Getting married! And she can't come to see you?! Surely she must be joking."

You shake your head;

"She sends her regrets and promises to make it up."

Mr. Han scoffs and shakes his head.

"My dear I'm so..so sorry this is incredibly heartbreaking and if you'll let me I'll walk you down the aisle if you wish. Actually I'll walk you and Jumin down the Aisle."

"Father-" Jumin begins.

"I'll not hear another word, it's decided. You're both my children and I won't have anything spoil your day."

Tears fill your eyes and you simply nod at Mr. Han. A smile breaks out on your face as you work to wipe away the escaped tears.

"Thank you dad."

[yoosungisbabie]

alone with you

jumin x mc

rating: T

warnings: slight angst, kissing♡

word count: 1.7k

ao3 link

summary

All they want is time.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

When she agreed to marry him, she believed she was ready for whatever would come her way. Merging their lives would take time, and she accepted that.

She never thought it would be so hard to get a moment alone with her fiancé.

They’d agreed early on that living together should wait until after their marriage. That didn’t stop him from paying for an apartment mere blocks from his building in Seoul. Despite that, he left for work in the early mornings, making her windows to visit him at home slim and far apart.

She continued the job of her own, juggling her management position along with wedding preparations. Meetings with their planner were mostly about making decisions, but the finality of said decisions was never sure. She wanted to consult Jumin first, but his schedule was more packed than ever.

C&R’s stocks were soaring in price, the news of the wedding was all over, and the continued lawsuit against Sarah and Glam Choi kept Jumin running a nonstop marathon. She continually offered to help both him and Jaehee, but there was never much she could do to truly help.

When she had time, Jumin’s father took up what he could of it. He wanted to learn all about her, though she wished Jumin could accompany her. His father was a kind man, but he had his opinions about their relationship. All she could do was smile and nod, wanting to keep peace and harmony between all parties.

Her own parents were waiting for the first opportunity to meet Jumin in person, but even a month after the party, everything was still too hectic.

But, there would come moments when they were finally alone.

Sometimes they would just hold each other, opting for physical comfort to fill the short minutes they were allowed. Other times, they would spill their whole days out in the air.

On most occasions, they would share Jumin’s lunch. She would visit his office and greet a disheveled Jaehee, closing the door of Jumin’s office behind her. An hour felt so short as they ate slowly and talked, catching each other up on all the little details.

And other times, like that day, she’d had enough. An hour a day with her husband-to-be was not sufficient, and she knew he felt the same.

“Jumin, do you have time?”

The answer was, and probably always would be, no, but perhaps he’d heard the tone of her voice through the phone. The exhaustion, the longing in the way she breathed out, and so he replied, “Yes.”

“Where are you?” was what immediately followed, and she took a long, deep inhale.

“I’m home. Would you be able to—“

“I’m leaving now,” he cut in, his voice gentle yet urgent. Despite the excitement blossoming in her stomach, she looked up, glancing around her messy apartment. He’d only visited once, just after the small abode had been purchased nearly a month ago. It had become cluttered since then; there was barely enough time to sleep anymore.

“Arrive safely, please,” she smiled, hearing him moving about quickly. He chuckled shortly, halting to place all his attention on her once more.

“I can’t wait to see you,” he replied, sounding resolute as he sighed.

They said goodbye, her hands tingling in anticipation.

The five minutes his trip took felt like hours, but she tried to busy herself with tidying up. She shakily folded blankets and arranged her shoes neatly on the floor.

She heard his footfalls before his gentle knock pierced the door, her body lunging for the handle immediately.

There he was, Jumin Han, standing in her doorway. The anxious anticipation in his eyes simmered into a warm, glowing fondness that she could almost feel against her skin.

“Hello, my love,” he sighed, grinning crookedly. She laughed slightly, reaching forward to take his hand in hers and lead him into the apartment and close the door behind him.

“I’ve missed you,” she said, letting her hand fall from his only to be able to wrap her arms around his middle. He returned her embrace immediately, their bodies melting into each other.

She felt the way his tense shoulders deflated against her, her own body buzzing from the immediate relief she felt at having him in her arms.

She was the first to pull away, looking up at him with complete adoration and overflowing gratitude. He returned her gaze, looking her over and nodding to himself happily.

“I’m glad to see you��re doing well,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. She pursed her lips, shooting him a knowing look.

“I am now,” she replied just as quietly, watching his smile migrate from his eyes to his lips. He reached forward, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead and igniting a small fire in the pit of her stomach.  

“Your apartment looks lovely, by the way,” he commented, drawing his eyes up and past her.

“Thank you,” she smiled, turning in his hold to look behind herself. Jumin hadn’t been able to visit her apartment since the initial purchase, and although she’d sent him numerous pictures after furnishing it, she was still excited to show him around.

“Would you like to see?” she wondered, intertwining her fingers with his and blinking up at him. He nodded once, smiling down at her and squeezing her hand.

She walked him through her living space, briefly explaining the reasoning behind her decorations as he followed behind her. He let her speak, more than content to listen to her voice for hours on end.

When they finished, she absentmindedly led him back towards the kitchen, eyeing the door and feeling a wave of bitter anticipation wash over her.

Jumin stopped a single pace behind her, their hands still tangled together at their sides. She turned back to look at him, longing to take in his presence for as long as possible.

The way he looked down at her reminded her of the first time they’d met at his penthouse. He’d simply stared into her eyes, making her cheeks grow warm and her heart flutter in her chest. Jumin later revealed that he’d wanted to kiss her the moment he laid eyes on her, and the memory brought another gentle smile to her lips.

She couldn’t fathom how much she’d taken their time together for granted. No part of her wanted Jumin to go through the same pain as those days when Elizabeth went missing, but to have that time alone with him once more would be all she would ever ask for again.

Her free hand moved to Jumin’s upper arm, her fingers curling around his bicep loosely as she stepped closer.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered, hugging his arm to her chest as he looked down at her curiously.

“I’m yours,” he replied simply, making her next breath hitch in her throat. His eyes followed the way her lips parted, a near-silent gasp for air. His free hand rose to meet her cheek, his thumb stroking her temple.

“Good,” she let out, moving her hand from his arm to his shoulder to steady herself. They both leaned in to kiss each other, meeting in the middle blissfully.

The way Jumin kissed her could easily convince anyone that he really did have all the time in the world. His slow, precise movements made warmth bubble in her chest and made her knees feel like buckling. It was more than a kiss; it was a study, an exploration. Her instinctual movements, her reactions, the way her body responded to his; Jumin took his time to commit it all to memory.

All of her senses were heightened and dialed into him, and the gentle way his hand was pressing into her waist was making everything feel fuzzy around the edges.

Jumin pulled away for a desperate breath, and she barely stopped herself from chasing after him. She blinked up at him, seeing his dazed eyes move past her to focus on the wall just behind her.

“On second thought, my love,” he breathed, gazing down at her once more. “Some of your design choices are abysmal. You should remove the clock from the wall.” She pressed her lips together, staring up at him in mild confusion while his hand still hadn’t moved from her side.

“How dare you let time pass while we’re together?” he whispered, making her lips split into a grin that bubbled into a laugh as she shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she giggled, pushing some of his hair from his eyes as he smiled playfully down at her. “How rude of me,” she replied softly, running a thumb across his cheekbones and reveling in the warmth just beneath his skin.

Meeting his eyes might have finally made her legs give out if he hadn’t been holding her up with him. What little of his irises weren’t shadowed seemed to burn as he took her in completely, and the sight made her heart struggle to beat properly.

She parted her lips to speak, thinking for a brief moment that maybe she could continue his joke and make him laugh as well. But any reply slipped her mind when his gaze shifted to her mouth, making her thoughts sizzle into nothing but that of kissing him even once more.

A breath before their lips met again, his phone buzzed needily in his suit pocket as it was pressed between his chest and hers. She met his eyes, watching as the euphoria in them faded all too quickly. He pulled away just enough to reach in and silence the call, frowning slightly at her. She replied with a gentle smile, reaching up to press an understanding kiss to his lips that he restrained himself from deepening.

“I want more time,” he breathed as she pulled away, his fingers splaying across her lower back in order to keep her right where she was. She nodded in agreement, waiting for that familiar disappointment to settle in her chest.

But as she watched the way he was willing to melt for her, to drop everything, all she felt blooming in her stomach was relief. Jumin was hers, and she was his. A moment alone would never be enough, but they’d promised each other a lifetime.

“We have it, Jumin,” she replied simply, watching his eyes as they took her in completely. “All the time in the world.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

thank you all so much for reading! I stressed over the editing and wording of this one because I wanted it to be perfect but! nothing will ever be posted if I need it to be perfect so here we are!

if you enjoyed this, please leave a like, a note, a reblog, or anything you can! I’d love to hear any feedback <3 I have more Jumin fics in the works that I’d like to post soon!

mel x

[wendy-606]

Happy Jumin Month!!💅🏻❤

I'm still well and alive🫀guys!! Wish you all a Happy Halloween!!🕸🕷

(Please click for a clearer image ^^)

[astridthevalkyrie]

honeymoon period | jumin han x reader

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

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

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

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

There is a knock on your door.

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

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

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

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

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

“Jumin!”

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome, Jumin.”

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come over here and find out, hubby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?” you question, with gleaming eyes.

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

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

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

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

Jumin Han is in love.

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The only limit is his imagination.

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

“No.” He is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything.”

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

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

///

Ice Prince.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, you’re right. However…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did. Did you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have an idea.”

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everyone cares,” Jumin insists. 

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

“Call…call the doctor?”

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

“Yes. Of course. Whatever you desire.”

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

“What did she say?”

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And who is Jumin to ever deny you?

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

“A glass of wine.”

“Of course, sir. And you, Mrs. Han?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

…

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

“Likewise.”

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

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

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

“Not the only thing,” he hums slyly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Losing his mind is just the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, clutching onto him stubbornly.

“You can sleep on my lap in the car.”

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

He opens the door, then freezes in his tracks.

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

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

“Care to join me, husband?”

Jumin swallows.

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

///

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

Because this. This, is heavenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will do. Bye, have fun!”

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

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

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

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

“You were meant to go out today.”

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

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

“I know that.”

“I—you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

A soft knock on the door. 

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

Silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The doorknob jiggles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t work. 

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

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

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

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

You.

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

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

He takes one step towards you.

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

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

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

“You’re fucked up, Jumin.”

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

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

But maybe you’ve just…had enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hurt you. He hurt you.

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

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

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

“Jumin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s okay. 

I’m right here, I’m here for you. 

You have me forever. 

We’re going to get through this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The promise knocks him right out.

///

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

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

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

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

An angel, indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

“All from home today, my prince.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A bad nightmare.”

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

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

His hands grip the back of your shirt.

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

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

“Alright,” he concedes, trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taking a deep breath, he continues.

///

Jumin is addicted—addicted—to making you cum.

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

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

He could taste you forever.

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jumin, I can’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

Jumin’s heart seizes.

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

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

///

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

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

“You’re welcome,” he breathes.

[sandiaarts]

Just to remind you that I draw for other fandoms.

My requests are open

Reblogs and comments are appreciated

[mystmesstolemysoul]

What if MC had no choice but to reset? What if, after enough cycles through each story, they know exactly which night they'll go to sleep next to their love then wake up all alone with a text telling them to go to an address they already know by heart. What if MC was cursed with repeating the same events over and over again, falling in love but never getting to grow beyond a certain point with the love of their life?

(lil drabble below the cut. There's a little bit of reset theory sprinkled in, along with a smidge of reference to a song I think goes with MysMes perfectly)

Which guy I'm talking about is intentionally vague so you can imagine your fave <3

Angst with a happy? bittersweet? ending

Not proofread, I don't have time for that shit, sorry lol

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The first time it happened, it was jarring. A panic setting in as you woke up, back in your old old apartment, no sign of him anywhere. Had it all been a dream? Surely not.

Then came the text, and it all came flooding back. What was happening?

You were less fearful this time as you walked up to Rika's apartment, even knowing all that you did now about the mysterious circumstances that had brough you here.

When they, the RFA, your family, greeted you as a stranger, it stung in a painfully nostalgic way. Had they really forgotten all about you? But it wasn't that; they hadn't known you in the first place.

You did some things differently, this time around. You gave more attention to one of the members that you'd brushed off the first time. Confusion clouded you on day five when everything began to drift away from the story you remembered. Despite this change, your new bachelor managed to sweep you off your feet, though you always felt guilty whenever he, your lover from the first time, called or texted. You felt guilty having to push him away to stay loyal to your new man.

You had almost forgotten about that jarring day when everything had reset. Almost. Until it happened again. You were more prepared this time, but felt almost exceedingly empty as you read the text asking for your help. You wanted to ignore it, to stop this toying with your heart. But you knew you couldn't stay away from the RFA. You were bound, heart and soul. So you did as 'Unknown' asked.

You began to dread it more and more each new route, never knowing when you were going to wake up alone and start the cycle all over again. It became numbing. Heartbreaking. But you could never stay away.

Eventually, you'd seen every possible way it could end. There had been a time you'd hoped to find a road that wouldn't end. A path that wouldn't lead to you waking up alone, forced to greet your closest friends as new strangers. But you'd long since given that up.

You'd seen every success, every possible failure. Felt every swell of new love, every shattering heartbreak. Made friends, made enemies, just for it all to be washed away.

There was a time when you'd begun to intentionally run everything into the ground. It was easier to repeat random 5-day loops than to go months, years, before having it all ripped away from you. But bringing them heartbreak hurt you more.

You were careful now. So careful. Especially with him.

You could never bring yourself to be careless with him. You didn't know why, but after a while, he began to stick out to you more than all the rest. No matter which path you walked, he always caught your eye. The way he said things, his way of thinking, how he tried to look out for you in his own little way.

So you pursued him. You'd won his heart before, many times, but you did it again with a purpose. You knew it wouldn't last. You knew one day, you'd wake up and it would all be over. But you loved him. You really loved him. And when the night came that you knew would be the last, you tried desperately not to sleep. But it was as if some curse took over you, forcing your eyes to close. When you awoke, it was all gone.

But you wouldn't let that stop you. Again, you followed him, your north star, your guiding light. Again, you won his heart. And again, you woke up. It was the third time when you noticed something different. Just a moment. A spark. A faint look in his eyes when you saw him face to face, some wondrous shock, as if he couldn't believe you'd chosen him. More than that usual look in his eyes when he saw you for what you believed to be his first time.

But the look wasn't enough for you to say something. Not yet. But a fourth time, you chose him. Then a fifth. Till finally, on the sixth time through, he gave you a look as if you'd gone insane, and he loved you for it. You'd asked without thinking. "You remember, don't you?"

He hadn't had to speak a word for you to know the answer. You knew him too well. He woke up alone, the same as you. And you loved him fiercer. Again and again and again, determined now to always choose him. No matter how repetitive, no matter how painful, you couldn't choose anyone but him, knowing he'd have to watch you fall in love with another man if you chose any other path.

When the fateful night settled in, wrapped up in each others arms, you were silent. You both knew what this night meant. When the daylight comes I'll have to go. You felt his tears trickle into your hair. "I don't wanna start all over."

And you didn't either. "I know, baby, I know." You held him so close, promising, "I'll choose you. I'll always choose you." And you meant it. You'd never be able to make it through now without him. You had him, now, and you weren't letting go.

And when the daylight comes I'll have to go, but tonight I'm gonna hold you so close, 'cause in the daylight we'll be on our own, but tonight I'm gonna hold you so close.

[queenie-avenue]

Can I go where you go?

—> Domestic Jumin Han Headcanons with you!

↪ SFW, slightly suggestive at times, fluff, reader is not specified to be male nor female

🦋 ⤻ archives.

— Jumin always makes an effort to cook breakfast for you, even if he has a chef. His mornings are one of the only times he gets to fully spend time with you, so he makes sure he cherishes and takes full advantage of that time.

�� Doesn't mind getting called Cat Mom/Dad after getting together with you because technically, you are also Elizabeth's Cat Mom/Dad which means both of you are married and have a child. (I feel like he would think like that, idk why.)

— Loves doing chores with you.

— If you are doing dishes on their own, he will make sure to wrap his arms around your waist and sway a bit and kiss your neck sweetly.

— Jumin makes a big effort to know about your interests. If you like anime, they will make sure to watch the summaries on YouTube of their favourite anime everytime a new episode comes out. If you like painting, they will learn about the best museums to bring you to.

— Loves when you dress traditionally.

— Will buy a vinyl and various disks with elegant music and play it every night. When both of you are in the mood, Jumin will invite you to dance and twirl you about softly while kissing you.

— His kisses normally follow the pattern of Hands —> Arms —> Shoulders —> Neck —> Jaw —> Cheeks —> Nose —> Forehead —> Lips. He makes sure to take a lot of time so you feel good.

— Although he loves the passionate kisses you give, he finds himself falling in love with you even more everytime you kiss and squeeze his hands at the same time. (BONUS POINTS FOR KISSES ON KNUCKLES)

— Dislikes it when you turn away from him in bed. He prefers sleeping while facing each other, cuddling too.

— A lot of different sleeping positions (not like that, get your mind out of the gutter): his head on your shoulders/heads/chest or your head on his chest. He especially likes when you cuddle closer if it's too cold and Bury yourself into his chest.

— Loves when you wash his hair in the bath or vice versa. (Inspired by that one wholesome reddit post. Does anyone know whether that couple is still together?)

— Likes to put his hand under your shirt to trace your spine, collarbone or any bones, really.

— His Favourite Nicknames for you are 'My Queen, Lover, Darling, Sweetheart.'

— You're the only one he allows to call Elizabeth, 'Elly'. He doesn't like to admit it but he also catches him calling Elizabeth 'Elly' at times.

— Loves to see you playing with Elizabeth.

— After a stressful day of work, he will silently drop everything at the door and bury his head into your chest.

— If he ever finds you crying, he will kiss and lick the tears from your eyes.

— Whenever he sees a photo of you on an online article or anywhere in the Media, he will complain that they cannot capture the 'True essence of your beauty.'

[hatchetings]

this is so dumb

[serenitysilverheart]

finally got the chance to play mystic messenger instead of watching routes on youtube and now i'm stuck in the brainrot purgatory again-

anyways, i genuinely love this game and am very passionate about these two deeply complex men that it kills me inside to have to only pursue one of them at a time... so i made an entire au for my mc-insert so that they can all hold hands! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) that and i believe jumin and seven are totally hilarious when put together so katherine (mc-insert shown above) is basically the positive mediator between them.

anticipate more content in the future perhaps... because there is far more to the au that is just festering in my brain +_+ and i'd like to further expand on how these three function with each other, so stay tuned(?)

[lucystarclub]

The “Assitant Kang, please make sure Elizabeth the III gets her fresh food on time and add up to the project list that we need to make a coffee she can drink. I’ll be workin until late on the Cat’s Hair Color seminar” Jumin Han in the flesh 🍷🐈📄

Another one of the MM collection :) Hey Mr. bussiness how do you do? 👀👀

[mysticerror606]

Inexperienced!Jumin han Headcannons

aka he's finally not bitchless

pairing : inexperienced!jumin han x gn!reader

genre : just smut, smut and smut, headcanons

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[juminweek2019]

Jumin Week 2024 News!

Ok, so apparently this is happening! 🫨

After doing the math I think we have enough people willing to participate to make Jumin Week 2024 a reality

About the prompts, I thought we could go with the second most voted theme from last year: that's it The Language of Flowers.

Now, as maybe you know, there's a TON of flowers with meaning because the Victorians were super repressed! So, to make things simpler I thought to use the wedding bouquets from The RFA last year which are exactly 7 flowers. Fortunately someone on Instagram made a post about it, so I'm posting it now so you can start working on the prompts until we have the schedule ready and pretty 🙂:

Also, because I suppose those who voted for flowers already had an idea what they wanted to write/draw/etc, I'm open to suggestions about what flower they want to be included as a prompt, so feel free to send an ask if you want to request a specific flower, but only if you are going to participate as a writer/an artist/etc.. (btw Jumin's bouquet is the Serbian Bellflower, that would be our prompt for his birthday 👀)

Also I'm going to make a poll whether we are having a parallel theme or not, with the tarot cards Major Arcana (but on the weekend, super tired right now OTL)

Let me know what you think? Do you like this theme? Any suggestions? Doubts? Feel free to drop an ask or comments in the tags/reblogs! Remember this may be the last Jumin Week so don't keep to yourself anything!

(if you are new and have any doubt you can also check this blog for past submissions)

For The Han!!! 👑✨💜💜💜

Edit: I forgot to mention Jumin Week starts on the 5/10 with Jumin's Birthday for time reasons.

[yoosungisbabie]

on the ride home

jumin x mc

rating: G

warnings: none♡

word count: 3k

ao3 link

summary

Jumin accompanies Jaehee and MC to view a potential venue for their next RFA party. He doesn't realize how strongly MC affects him.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“I’ll leave you to think it over. Please let me know if you have any more questions,” the manager said, bowing respectfully as he exited the room.

Jumin fixed his suit jacket for the seventh time in the past five minutes; there was nothing else to do. That particular suit always hung weird, so instead of looking at the uninteresting room the three of them were standing in, he focused on his jacket.

“So, what do you two think?” MC wondered aloud, clasping her hands together behind her back. Her eyes were alight, but Jumin failed to see what there would be to appreciate about the subpar banquet hall they stood in. He glanced around once more, almost to humor her, and let his eyes roll over the dull chandelier and aging upholstery.

“I’ll need to ask about the maximum capacity limit, the entrances, and what catering would look like before we commit to anything,” Jaehee spoke quickly, holding her clipboard tight to her chest. MC’s smile only widened, her eyes softening at Jaehee.

“Of course,” she agreed, nodding along before her eyes shifted to meet his expectantly. He took a deep breath in through his nose, nearly forgetting where he was going to start his grievances. The unbothered sparkle in her eyes was uncharacteristically distracting to him.

“Assistant Kang, please also investigate the hotel’s status further. I’d like to know their banquet reviews and frequency,” Jumin started, straightening his back and glancing over as Jaehee began to scribble on her clipboard. “I’m interested to know the turnover rate of their employees and what training they go through before anything.” The confidentiality of their guests was extremely important, and nothing could go wrong at the party due to the lack of proper training on the hotel’s part.

A small frown grew on MC’s face, drawing his gaze curiously. Was she displeased at the amount of help he was offering her? He normally took the role of investigating the possible hosts of the locations for their parties.

“That sounds great, Jumin,” she sighed, unclasping her hands from behind her back. “But– here! Just imagine it,” she grinned, changing her aura almost instantly. She quickly walked to the middle of the room, gesturing to the left side of the hall.

“We can have all the tables here, and we can hire that company for the centerpieces that we were talking about,” she began, nudging that last comment at Jaehee. “The refreshments can be set up there, and oh! I was thinking we could have V’s auction set up on the opposite side of the room. I want to give him space to arrange his pieces the way he wants, and–”

“I think he’ll appreciate that,” Jaehee interjected, smiling back at MC. Jumin was watching her, not realizing that his hands had relaxed at his sides. He quickly stuck them in his pant pockets, but the almost-anxious action caught MC’s attention.

“Jumin? Can you see what I mean?” she asked, walking closer to him once more. He raised his eyebrows, his eyes flitting around the room as he tried to visualize the ideas she had proposed.

“I think we should still review all the options, but if you would like to be in charge of how we arrange the room, you are welcome to,” he replied, looking back down at her as she breathed quickly out of her nose like that was the wrong answer.

“What about the view? The Seoul skyline?” she prompted, stepping to his left side so they were both facing the wall of windows to the east. She steadied herself with one hand on his forearm, using her other to point out at the windows enthusiastically.

“The Highrise Enthusiasts will love it, don’t you think? And once the sun begins to set?” she asked, almost commanding more of his attention than what had been drawn to the sudden upset feeling in his stomach. He stared down at her, seeing her wide smile and trying to figure out why he felt slightly sick. Had the minor change in his breakfast routine thrown off his perfect equilibrium?

“Consider it?” MC urged, her mouth softening into a gentle smile directed at him. He moved to speak, feeling his stomach clench once more in distress. Perhaps he should have stayed at the office to finish his paperwork instead of accompanying them that day.

“I’ll try my best to see your vision,” he agreed, nodding along before pressing his lips together. It was only when MC backed away, satisfied with his answer and releasing her light grip on his arm, that he unclenched the fists he’d made in his pockets.

“I’m not settling, but I think this would be a lovely venue if we don’t find another good option,” she offered, tilting her head at Jaehee. The two girls smiled at each other, and Jumin took a deep breath to try to settle his heart rate. He would definitely need to talk to his dietician, if not his doctor. Maybe the air in the banquet hall wasn’t filtered correctly? He couldn’t think straight.

“We can definitely consider it, MC,” Jaehee said, glancing up at her boss. He nodded at her, avoiding the party planner’s eyes as he turned back towards the entrance of the hall.

“I believe we should go before the traffic gets too much worse,” Jumin spoke quickly, wondering if there would be hardly any traffic outside. He led the way, bowing to the hotel staff as they took the elevator down to the ground floor.

MC gushed about the lobby when they passed through, latching onto Jaehee’s arm but not surprising the assistant in the least. Jumin watched with intrigue, interested as to if the small gesture had really been the reason for the ill feeling that hadn’t quite left him.

Driver Kim was waiting with the company car for them just outside the entrance, and to Jumin’s slight surprise, the lunchtime traffic was actually a little worse than usual.

Jaehee sat upfront, leaving Jumin in the backseat with MC. Driver Kim pulled out into the street quickly, knowing that they would want to get back to the office as soon as possible.

“I think Zen would really like the red accents in that hall, don’t you think, Jaehee? I only just thought of that,” MC commented, pulling out her phone. “I should send him a picture.” Jumin couldn’t help but peek at her phone, watching her send a picture that he hadn’t realized she’d taken. Jumin was in the picture, and Jaehee was hidden behind him as they had been talking to the manager. The subject of the picture was the stage at the head of the banquet hall, but the fact that Jumin was also in the picture alleviated some of the heat that rose to his ears when she had opened her private chat with Zen.

Jumin focused his attention back on his own phone, reading over the emails he had received while they had taken their short trip. The car was mostly quiet except for the light air conditioning and the gentle piano sonatas that Driver Kim always played on the radio. But before long, MC began to yawn, making Jaehee laugh after the first subsequent few.

“If you’d like, I could make you some coffee before you head back,” Jaehee offered, making MC smile and hum thoughtfully.

“That sounds lovely, thank you,” she replied, locking her phone and placing it and her hands in her lap. “I can’t sleep very much lately.” Jumin’s ears perked up, his attention shifting from his emails to their conversation more fully.

“Is that so?” Jaehee replied, turning in her seat to look back in slight concern.

“Oh, it’s just the transition from my old apartment to Rika’s apartment and now my new apartment is definitely an adjustment,” she explained, shrugging at Jaehee. “I’m used to a lot of background noise, so I need a good fan or something to–” She interrupted herself to yawn again, giggling herself out of it and making him finally look up at her completely. The sound was hard for him to ignore, for some reason.

“To drown out the quiet,” she finished, stealing a glance at him before looking back at Jaehee. He blinked at her comment, thinking about how quiet his penthouse was. If he compared it to the noise in the car at that moment, he could almost feel his ears ringing at the intense silence he would find in his own home. A strange thought then popped into his head; he wondered if she were ever to visit his house if she would hate it, or if her pleasant laughter would fill the space instead. But when his mind slipped into wondering what position she would sleep in or what she would look like waking up in the morning, he minutely shook his head, trying to clear the strange thoughts that seemingly came from thin air.

“I wouldn’t mind helping you look for a high-quality fan,” Jaehee spoke up, pulling him from his momentary daze. Again, he felt a strange sensation in his stomach, and he wondered if he really was developing an illness.

“Oh my goodness, please don’t,” MC said quickly, waving her hand dismissively. “I could never add more to your plate, Jaehee.” His assistant made a strange noise, somewhere between a sneeze and a cough, but brushed it off quickly and excused herself before turning back around in her seat.

The soothing piano melodies took over the quiet of the car once more, and Jumin went back to his emails, trying to find where he’d left off reading.

After only a few more minutes, he heard a small snore come from MC, and his eyes were drawn almost immediately to her. She had her head tilted back against the headrest, her mouth slightly open, and his first thought was of how quickly she had dozed off.

It was a long moment that he stared at her, seeing the rise and fall of her chest and listening to the air pass through her lips. Jumin realized how unexplainable his gaze would be if anyone saw him, so he pulled his eyes back to his phone, absentmindedly opening his browser. He began researching top-reviewed fans, but his mind switched quickly to another query.

How to fall asleep in my apartment if it is too quiet

Jumin had blocked out all other noise, focused on his research when there was sudden pressure and warmth on his left shoulder. His eyes moved before any other part of him could, seeing the top of MC’s head in the corner of his vision. His heart executed what he could only describe as a high jump, nearly eliciting a vocal reaction from him.

His whole body felt frozen, stuck in midair. Was she still asleep? If so, would she wake up if he so much as breathed? He anxiously tested it, feeling her body rise and fall with the rhythm of his breathing, and in doing so almost missing the rapid rate at which he was inhaling and exhaling. He tried to relax, staying as still as possible. He would much rather her be comfortable than him, even if that meant they would stay like this for the rest of their car ride.

Jumin looked back to his phone, exiting his browser and switching back to his emails. It was almost too much to try and focus on anything but the pattern of her breathing or the way he could barely feel her feathery exhales brushing the back of his hand.

When Driver Kim made a sudden stop, MC’s head slipped forward, nearly shifting off of his shoulder. She made a dissatisfied noise, raising his heart rate as she repositioned to move her whole body closer to his side. One of her hands found the crook of his elbow, her gentle grip hardly even noticeable through the fabric of his dress shirt and jacket.

He focused on his own breathing, wondering why her proximity was making him feel so uneasy. Maybe the combination of her closeness, her hand on his arm, and the way the simple scent of her shampoo was lingering in the air was the reason for his mental disquiet. But before he could take too long to dwell on it, they had arrived back at the C&R building. The dim lighting of their underground parking garage cast long shadows into the car, and he couldn’t help but tense up as he realized what was about to happen.

Jumin couldn’t bring himself to move, even as Jaehee opened the door for him. His assistant paused, glancing in at the both of them in confusion.

“Mr. Han? Did she real fall asle–” Jumin held a hand up, motioning for her to be a little quieter.

“What should I do?” he whispered without thinking, turning to glance at the woman lying against him to hide the way his face began to warm. He felt so unlike himself, but it seemed as though he didn’t have any way to control that fact for the time being, not with her there asleep on his arm.

Jaehee was quiet for a moment before clearing her throat and prompting him to look back at her, feeling an unexpected dependency on his assistant.

“I think you should wake her up,” Jaehee whispered back, pressing her lips together quickly to avoid smiling. Jumin pretended not to see that, furrowing his eyebrows at her. “If you move your shoulder slowly, she will probably begin to fall and wake up,” she offered, drawing an even more confused expression from him.

“I thought you would have a helpful answer,” he murmured to himself, trying to think of a solution quickly. Normally the security guards waiting nearby never bothered him, but even having Jaehee as an audience to whatever was happening felt intrusive.

“Please take the security guards and gather everyone for our one o’clock meeting,” he instructed, watching from his peripheral vision as Jaehee paused for a moment before nodding and turning away. Once she and the guards were closed in the elevator, he let out a slow, even breath.

He turned to look at MC, his chin almost brushing against her hair. He tilted his head forward slightly to see her face, his chest tightening when he saw her in the dim lighting. Her hair was hanging slightly in his way, but her lips were opened slightly in a pout, drawing his eyes first. He’d never noticed how long her eyelashes were or the pleasing slope of her nose until that moment, and the slightest color in her cheeks nearly made him reach up to feel the warmth waiting there. The thought of touching her was what made him release the breath he’d been holding, the air from his lips blowing her hair against her nose. It seemed to tickle her, her eyes fluttering and her face scrunching in response.

Jumin startled, pulling his face away just in time for her eyes to flutter open. She took an unsteady breath in, lifting her head to look around.

When their eyes met, hers blew fully wide, both of her hands shooting up to cover her mouth. The color of her face went red, a shade even more pleasing than before, even if he couldn’t see it as well as he would have liked in the poor lighting.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep!” she exclaimed, her eyebrows pulling together like she wanted to cry. Jumin’s heart leaped, his unexplainable delight switching to regret.

“It’s alright,” he responded, shaking his head quickly as he moved to take off his seatbelt. She did the same, pressing her hands to her cheeks while he stole a glance at her. She looked distressed, but she was blushing and fixing her hair nervously. As she pulled it behind her ears, she moved to look at him. He quickly looked away, stepping out of the car and offering her his hand to help her out. She hesitated but took it, and the feeling that started in his fingertips and radiated through his whole body almost made him pull her into him again. But he controlled himself, watching as she walked past him towards the elevator.

Jumin faltered for a moment, hesitant to follow behind her too closely in case she was still uncomfortable. He shut the car door behind himself, buttoning his jacket and fixing his sleeves. He took even strides over to the elevator, glancing at her for less than a second as he stepped inside and selected his floor.

They were both silent as the doors closed and their ascent began, and Jumin wondered if she could hear the way his heart was racing in his chest as it pounded in his ears.

“Jumin,” she called, making him flinch. He played it off by brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve, glancing over at her. He had only intended to turn his head enough to imply that he was listening, but once their eyes met, he didn’t dare look away from such a sight.

She was smiling, a light pink settling over her cheeks as she blinked up at him.

“Why are you blushing too?” she whispered, pressing her lips together when his eyes widened. He felt his face grow even warmer, a heat simmering along the entire expanse of his body. Her expression could only be described as teasing, and the idea brought a whole new level of depth to the way he felt ill.

“I-um,” he started, surprising himself when he stuttered and was at a loss for words. While his mind scrambled to put any words together, either in response to her or for an explanation as to what he was experiencing, she giggled into her hand.

Jumin knew right then that even though he had no idea what she was doing to him, he would do everything in his power to make sure that it wouldn’t stop.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

thank you so much for reading! i haven’t been on here in a hot minute, but I had started writing this in october and thought I might as well get something out. I love writing and sharing it, so here are! 

if you liked, please like, reblog, and leave a comment in the notes or in the tags! thank you <3

mel x

[gifti3]

this popped into my head after this interaction lol

heres the pic i used

[shewrotesomething]

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

[intr0verted-weird0]