protectjuminhan

[protectjuminhan]

*MC arriving to Jumin's Penthouse on day 7*: Your house, is quite amazing!

Jumin: Do you like it? Thanks.

Jumin, whispering to Elizabeth: She said she liked my house. What do I do? Do I give her my house?

[protectjuminhan]

Who’s your daddy? Collab @inmate2206 (sketch) @daedorys (line) @eiruan (color)

[protectjuminhan]

please, untitled document was my father, call me untitled document (1)

[protectjuminhan]

Omg!!! Sir??? Excuse you??? How dare you look sooo amazing Jumin??? 💜😬🥰😻

[protectjuminhan]

uhhh your honour please let the record show that the defendant won't stop making jerk off gestures every time i get up to talk. well no he is because i can hear his handcuffs jingling when he does it. your honour can you get him to stop please

[protectjuminhan]

jumin han

[protectjuminhan]

To you a flower that will not wither. -your man-

[protectjuminhan]

what she gives to him

Classic Jumin brainrot. Don't send help. I'm quite happy here. NSFW.

There is no music that plays in their bedroom. No television droning on, no cell phones chiming with messages or calls. No conversation, no traffic nor thunderstorm to rattle the windows or the walls. But the quiet moans that escape her mouth as Jumin moves against her in the darkness before the dawn are all the noise he craves in this moment. The whisper of skin along satin sheets, the frantic gallop of her heartbeat in time with his, the exhale of her breath against his neck as she rakes her nails down his back– these are the things he needs. These are the only things that matter to him, both now and always.

He wants to speak, to tell her all the ways she has captivated him, rendered him senseless in every possible aspect of his life. Jumin has never considered himself a man swayed by emotion or feeling.

But in her arms, when she’s whispering filthy things in his ear while looking so unabashedly innocent, he is a man who has lost all sense of reason and rationale. Her breasts become an altar at which he whispers his most fervent prayers; her eyes are where he can confess his darkest sins without so much as a blink of judgement from her. And the warm, welcome space between her thighs is where he can bury himself and forget the pressures of the world he carries upon his broad shoulders day in and day out. She understands him on a deeper level than he understands himself. She nurtures the side of him that he’s been afraid to show anyone else– even his best friend– and she does the one thing for him that no one else in his life has ever been able to do:

She allows him to be vulnerable. Without judgement. Without ridicule. Without question.

Her grace extends beyond their bedroom, of course. When they are finished– and he reluctantly detangles himself from her arms and rises to shower, to dress, to put together the Jumin Han that the outside world sees– he finds her still tangled in the sheets, hair fanned out across the pillow, her breath steady and shallow. And when he bends to kiss her goodbye, she stirs.

“Stay with me today,” she says mid-stretch; the sheets slip away from her body and she is naked before him once again. He swallows thickly and brushes the hair from her eyes.

“You know I’d do anything for you,” he whispers. His voice does unspeakable things to her, low and seductive and sensual, even when he doesn’t mean for it to be.

“I do,” she coos, tugging at his tie. He allows himself to be pulled in for a kiss that tastes of sleepy morning desire, and for a moment he considers calling in sick. But as her pink tongue parts his lips so she can kiss him deeper, his phone vibrates from the bedside table and hurtles him back to reality.

“But I must go,” he says, unfurling her delicate fingers from his tie to kiss their tips, one by one. “You’ll come visit for lunch today?” His eyes are soft, pupils wide. She wants to drown in them. “I made reservations, after all.”

“I know you did, darling,” she says, as if it were in her power to refuse him. “Of course I’ll be there.”

“Then I shall count the minutes until you are at my side once more.” He glances at his watch, straightens his cufflinks, squares the shoulders of his jacket.

Three hundred and two minutes, he thinks, throwing her one final glance before he closes the bedroom door.

[protectjuminhan]

The Silent Treatment

Self-indulgent Jumin smut? Yes. Because the world needs more Jumin. NSFW for oral and vaginal sex, biting, hair-pulling, little bit of angst. Hey, hi, hello. Totally exposing myself here.

◇☆•◇☆•◇☆•◇☆•◇☆•◇☆•◇☆•◇☆•◇☆•◇☆

She’d been quiet since they left a rather uptight dinner party earlier that evening; Jumin, admittedly, had been rather preoccupied with guests, with other business people. She excused herself halfway through the after dinner cocktail hour and retreated to the courtyard, pretending to be deeply interested in the ornate fountain; with a few glasses of wine and the din of conversation at her back, she grew bored, dizzy, sleepy. Jumin had bought her a new dress for the occasion– royal blue, off-the-shoulder, a scandalous slit along her right leg, and she suddenly felt cheap and attention seeking, wishing she’d thought to grab her shawl from the coatroom before venturing out alone. 

Jumin found her long after most of the other guests had left. He wasn’t angry; no, he was anxious because she’d slipped away without him having noticed, and perhaps even a little disappointed in her and himself for the situation at hand. Tentatively, he cupped her elbow and watched her shoulders tense in response, though she didn’t turn around. “Let’s go home, my love,” he said simply; she allowed herself to be led to the car in silence, where she turned toward the window and refused, still, to talk to him.

They arrived home in deafening silence. She faced forward in the elevator ride, arms crossed, cheeks blazing, jaw set firm. Jumin continued to fret, though mostly inward– his heart beat fast, his stomach bottomed out, his head tingled. And when they reached their floor, she stepped away from him with purpose, inserting her key into the door and leaving it wide open for him as she made a bee-line for the bedroom to rid herself of the dress and slip into a nightgown.

Jumin stood in the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine, took a long drink, then bent to pet Elizabeth, who pranced at his feet. Even she felt the tension, and her silky fur was a temporary reprieve for him. He sensed his wife’s presence before he saw her standing there, barefoot and ethereal even in her ire. And he rose to his full height, taking in her face– blotchy and red from crying, all of her makeup stripped clean. Even then, he thought her radiant as an angel, though her silence had begun to wear on him.

“You do realize…” Jumin began, taking her chin in his hand and lifting her face toward his, “that you’re being incredibly stubborn right now.” 

She still wouldn’t look him in the eye, though his grip was firm, unrelenting. Not in a possessive or hurtful way, but with a touch that said look at me. Stop being ridiculous. She continued to stare at the floor as tears clouded her vision, hot and prickly. She knew damn well she was being unreasonable, but she was far too committed to her mood, her demeanor. 

“Darling,” he persisted, taking one step closer to her to slip an arm around her waist. “If you won’t talk, I’ll have to find other means to coax it out of you.”

She shook her head weakly and sniffled, obnoxiously loud and purposefully long. Jumin recoiled– temporarily derailed– and laughed, derisive and short. She turned and stepped out of the room, down the hall, and flung open the door to the balcony overlooking the city. Grasping the railing, she bent over at the waist and closed her eyes, the tears flowing freely now as the wind blew her hair around her face.  Jumin followed and stood at the doorway to watch her, bewildered. He wanted to apologize, though for what he wasn’t entirely sure. She’d never quite closed off to him in such a way. Sure, there had been arguments, lover’s quarrels, tiny tiffs...but she’d always come around after a few hours. She’d give in and fall into his waiting, aching arms, apologizing for being so stubborn. 

This– this, he could hardly bear. 

“Darling.” He tried again and moved to stand behind her. At his touch upon her shoulder, she gripped the railing harder, gritting her teeth. She didn’t want him to see her softening. She couldn’t look him in the eye because then she’d be putty in his hands, and she was quite insistent on proving that she could be uptight and unforgiving when she so desired. But the longer his hand remained on her skin, the more his warmth seeped into her presence; soon, she felt her hair being brushed over one shoulder and a puff of breath upon her neck before his lips grazed just behind her ear. “Are you ready to talk now?”

She simply shook her head, set her jaw, and closed her eyes; then, she circled slowly so that he could look upon her face, and he leaned forward, encasing her between himself and the wrought iron railing.

“Do you want to...not talk?”

Her answer was a slight protrusion of her bottom lip that looked so enticing and delicious he had no other choice but to claim it with his mouth; his tongue pushed against her teeth until she opened to him with a low whine. 

He carried her off to bed then and took his sweet time working out her anger, her frustration. Smug while he buried his head between her thighs, he quietly thrilled in the way her body bent and twisted while his fingers pressed, possessive, into the muscles that flexed and relaxed. She pulled his hair, she gasped for air, but she refused to make noise. 

“Let me hear you.” He paused and looked up at her, and in a moment of weakness she met his eyes before shutting hers tight once more. 

She refused to give him such satisfaction, though he was making quite sure that she would be satisfied when he was finished with her. 

He only wanted to hear her sing.

So with a broad, careful stroke of his tongue, he found her weakness– the delicate skin upon the inside of her thigh, just outside of where she was most desperate for him. He sank his teeth into the flesh there, then soothed it with a kiss; his fingers gathered the wetness at her core and pushed inside until her lower back arched away from the mattress.

She bit down on her knuckles to quell her cries and exhaled a sharp breath through her nose. Still, she refused to make a sound.

He curled those fingers and cupped her sex, determined to hear her, marvelling in the arousal that coated his fingers and eased his task, though he could hardly consider it strenuous by any stretch of his imagination. A delightful endeavor, one that both enthralled and aroused him enough that he was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to be inside her, to feel her pull him in, slick against his own need.

And so he withdrew his fingers and flipped her without warning so that she was perched on all fours and he could sink himself inside. She fell forward with a surprised grunt, a white-knuckled grip on black satin sheets while she buried her face in a pillow to keep from crying out.

His arm hooked around her middle then and pulled her upright, back against his chest so that he could thrust up into her. She sank her teeth into his forearm, but it only spurred him forth harder; he treated her left shoulder in much the same fashion, admiring his mark against the sheen of sweat on her rosy skin.

“Damn you,”  she hissed, reaching behind to tug at his hair, to hold him close (to pull him further inside her). 

At her peak, she cried out his name in the middle of a string of expletives– blubbering, whimpering, pleading with him to have mercy. He gave her none as he pulled her hair, exposing her neck so that he could taste her there as he came. 

He laid her gently upon the bed and licked a bead of sweat from her cheek when they parted, then nestled himself behind her with a rather self-satisfied chuckle.

“Are you still angry with me?” Words spoken into her skin, fingertips trailing from her shoulder down the length of her arm until he found her hand and slipped his fingers between hers. 

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

She sighed heavily; turned away from him, he couldn’t see the grin that spread across her face, or the way her eyes twinkled with afterglow. “No.”

“Will you tell me if I draw us a bath?” 

That gave her pause, and she flexed her toes, pushing her backside further against him.

“Maybe.”

“Lavender oil?”

“Rose.”

“Noted,” he said, rising from the bed.

In the bathtub, he coaxed her to speak again in whispers and moans, but by then she’d forgotten just why she was angry in the first place.

[protectjuminhan]

From this to this

[protectjuminhan]

Goodnight ✨

[protectjuminhan]

Discourse

A prompt request fulfilled for @crystal13unny and @inthisblogwestanthechoitwins​ ! Both requested Jumin angst with the prompt “Go, and don’t even think about coming back here!” I tweaked the dialogue just a little, but it still fits. Heavy angst ahead. No comfort ending. Please skip this one if unresolved angst isn’t your jam.

“This is the third business dinner this month, Jumin. Do you really have to go?”

From the corner of the nursery in her favorite rocking chair, she regarded him there in the doorway; poised, pressed, hair freshly combed, aftershave applied, he looked stunning. He always did. Put together and ready to take on the world. He fixed his cufflinks (a habit he would never hope to break as long as they both lived) and sighed softly, closing his eyes as if he were exasperated with her. They’d had this very same discussion just last week. “I do. You know I’m required to attend. With my father’s impending retirement, I have to be close at hand to secure these remaining contracts.”

She nodded, then looked down to the tiny infant at her breast with a sad sort of smile and smoothed a hand over his jet black hair. “Yes, I’m aware. I just…can’t they give you a moment to breathe?” The baby fussed when his mother’s voice grew louder, so she took a deep breath to calm herself before continuing. “Jumin, we’ve just had a baby,” she whispered, setting her jaw to stave off the tears that threatened to form.

Keep reading

[protectjuminhan]

Jumin Han 

Prints Shop

👇 High-res art / Psd / Steps Gumroad.com/ereyz Patreon.com/Ereyz

[protectjuminhan]

[protectjuminhan]

I’ll put my music on shuffle and be pissed if I don’t get the right song

[protectjuminhan]

so, this is interesting.

chairman han sees his second wife as jumin’s mother. hence him calling his second wife “your mother” when speaking to jumin.

meanwhile, jumin makes sure to stress that she isn’t his biological mother, and uses the term ‘stepmother’ instead. he does this in the chat too, on the very, very rare occasion that she’s mentioned.

jumin doesn’t seem to have any relationship with his biological mother, considering that’s what he calls her, and he speaks about her so little that some people assume she’s dead. there’s a disconnect there, so it’s doubtful that jumin resents his stepmother for not being his ‘real mom’. nope, it’s just ‘stepmother’, and sometimes he distances himself from her even further.

so he’s consistent, right? it’s only ever his father who says she’s his mother, and he never thinks of her like that at all. case closed.

except there’s this

this is his stepmother talking during a nightmare/flashback that jumin’s having. he is labeling her as ‘mother’, even though we saw him actively avoiding that term the previous night.

not to mention that she’s encouraging him to call her by her first name while she’s hitting on him. it may not be the first time something’s happened, and it’s not a good sign that he won’t make eye contact with her, and, well…

his usual refusal to call her ‘mother’ makes sense. Her presence seems to trigger some sort of negative reaction, and he’s trying to distance himself. but why label her as 'mother’ during that scene? is it because chairman han repeatedly referred to her as ‘your mother’ before that he has that nightmare/flashback? did he actually call her mother for a while? is it to hammer in that this woman is the closest thing to a mother figure that jumin has?

this may not be an anomaly. there’s at least one other moment when we hear him say 'mother’.

this is probably his stepmother again, considering how he calls her that in the earlier scene, his father thinks of her as jumin’s mother, and that unlike his biological mom, we do see his stepmother reveal her emotions to him. so if we already know her as his stepmother, why the sudden change? just how complicated was his family life growing up? what is happening, cheritz?

jumin, please, i know you don’t like to think about the past, but i have so many questions.

[protectjuminhan]

Forever

@mrs-mc-han: Hiiiiii! Can I please please please request an MC who is super loud an extroverted! She doesn’t mean to or really even notice. she tends to yell when excited and use a lot of hand motions and laugh loudly. and she was never aware of it until she heard one of Jumin’s employees gossiping in the bathroom at C&R and goes to Jumin in tear apologizing for making him seem unprofessional. If you do this I will be so happy🥺🥺I love your work! Thank you💕

~~~

Gurrrl! I went through three different drafts because none of them felt right! But I finally settled on one! Here we go!

~~~

“Ow!! Don’t -!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Jumin carefully sat you up, his hand on your lower back. “I added too much pressure this time… I’m sorry, darling.”

“No, don’t apologize, Jumy… it’s so nice of you to help me to begin with,” you smiled forcibly, gripping his hand.

“It wounds me to see you in so much pain,” Jumin sighed, his fingers lightly trailing over your shoulder blades. “How long do you need to rest?”

“Six weeks,” you moaned, turning and burying your sulky face against Jumin’s neck. “Which is impossible, by the way. What am I supposed to do for six weeks!”

“Rest, obviously,” Jumin jested, poking your cheek.

“… Rest, obviously,” you imitated. “I mean! What else am I gonna do? Huh? What, I can’t do anything except rest?”

“Calm down,” Jumin cooed, winding his arms around you. “I’ll tell you what. How do you feel about coming to work with me, hm? It’s remote, quiet, and you can stay in my office.”

“And do nothing?” You pouted.

“I have plenty of board and card games that will keep you busy. Or, you can bring your tablet and play the games you have on there. What do you say?”

“That sounds like… a reason for you to spy on me,” you smirked.

Jumin batted his eyelashes. “So what if it is?”

“That sounds like a plan,” you giggled, kissing his cheek. “To coming with you to the office, not to the spying.”

“Drats,” Jumin said stoically, lifting you from the couch and placing you on the bed. “Did you take your medication, love?”

“I did,” you blushed, realizing for the millionth time how lucky you were to be reminded. “Come here, hubby. Cuddle close.”

~~~

The height of C&R’s structure never failed to frighten you. You stood dumbfounded as Jumin gathered your things and grabbed your hand.

“Are you all right?” He smiled, tightening his hold.

“Did you guys expand somehow? The building looks ten times larger than when I was here last!” You smiled, throwing your arm out and flinching shortly after. “Ow! Ow…”

“Be careful,” Jumin uttered, rubbing your back. “The building hasn’t gotten any bigger… it seems my proposal for cat tree extension has been denied.”

“You made a proposal for a cat tree extension?!” You laughed.

“Oh, look. I’m going to be late. Let’s go,” Jumin mumbled hastily, leading you delicately to the inside of the building.

The sights and the interior sounds were more or less the same since you had last visited. Hurried footsteps and the sound of passes that approved access mixed with the familiar smell of citrus - your senses were overtaken and overwhelmed.

“Why do you look so shocked? You were here just last week,” Jumin chuckled, easing you past the security booths.

Before you could respond, you heard a familiar pair of heels making a beeline towards you. You turned and glowed as Jaehee, folders in hand, stopped and bowed towards Jumin.

“Mr. Han -”

“Jaehee!!”

She straightened and smiled as you crashed against her, hugging her. She tucked her folder under her arm and gave you a reassuring pat. “How have you been, MC? All Mr. Han talks about is how you injured your back.”

“Even during meetings?! Jumin, shame on you!”

Jumin turned his head, hiding his flushed expression.

“Don’t be too hard on him. It’s a rarity to see how much he cares for someone other than his cat,” Jaehee quipped under her breath.

“We’re going,” Jumin blurted, grabbing your arm and leading you to one of the many elevators.

“Yes, Mr. Han,” Jaehee said quickly, fixing her glasses and her posture.

~~~

“What happened to your office?!” You shouted.

Jumin pursed his lips and blinked quickly. “I felt the need to redecorate.”

You rushed into the office and threw your arms open. “Jumin, there are pictures of me everywhere!! OW!!”

“Don’t strain yourself by yelling, darling.”

Jaehee quickly closed Jumin’s office door behind her. “Forgive my sudden intrusion towards this heartwarming conversation, but Mr. Han?”

“Ah, yes. The meeting.”

“Jumin, you are -”

“Silly? Adorable? Quite the catch?” Jumin crooned, massaging your back.

You faltered and wrapped your arms firmly around him, giggling as he peppered kisses to your face.

Jumin hummed gently, his fingers curling over and into your hair. “I’ll be back, my love. And when I come back, I’ll give you the massage you deserve. Don’t miss me too much.”

“Impossible. I miss you already if only you knew -”

“Mr. Han,” Jaehee spoke more pointedly.

“All right, all right.” Jumin sighed, the stars in his eyes now replaced by businesslike determination.

“Be strong, my brave man,” you grinned.

Jumin grabbed your hand, planted a firm kiss on your palm, and turned quickly, lest Jaehee fire another warning. You closed the door and bit hard at your lip as you observed Jumin’s gallery.

Photos of you sleeping, smiling, holding Elizabeth the Third - even pictures of the highly publicized wedding day - were scattered with the finesse Jumin naturally possessed.

“I love you so much, you silly man,” you said under your breath, running your fingers over his desk and finally settling yourself on his seat.

You managed to keep yourself busy for half an hour, drawing hearts on Jumin’s notepad and playing a round or two of virtual Uno. Boredom was a hell of a demon, so you figured there was no harm in walking around.

Opening the door to his office, you peeked your head through and slid out. You were greeted with polite smiles and inclined heads as you walked through the floor, making you feel… oddly uncomfortable. No doubt, everyone was polite to you because they knew who you were - if you were to make one complaint, Jumin would take immediate action.

But you pushed your suspicions of trivial matters aside and smiled widely towards the ostensibly friendly employees.

Your brows furrowed, and your shoulders tensed the longer you were outside of Jumin’s office. You understood what Jumin meant; that feeling of suffocation seemed to hover over your person and only caused more stress to your back as you unconsciously hunched.

You traveled to the café, desirous for some breathing air - there had to be some sense of normalcy where people ate. Still, heads turned as soon as your footfalls could be heard, and more disturbingly flashy smiles were shined your way.

Cramped and in agony, you retreated quickly to the nearest restroom, rubbed your neck, and yanked your phone out.

Hey, honey! Are you almost done?

Jumin usually answered you immediately, but his response still hadn’t come your way. Pushing a stall door open, you slumped into the toilet seat and continued to try to work the knot on your back.

“Jumin, shame on you ~!”

Laughter reverberated through the restroom, and you froze in place.

“She’s so tacky!”

“And so loud. Could you hear her from accounting?”

“Yes! No offense to Mr. Han, but the least he can do is put her in her place.”

“Ha, no offense to Mr. Han, but he chose poorly. My daughter would be a much better candidate.”

“Isn’t your daughter twelve?”

“Well, Mr. Han does seem to go after those with a… childlike… disposition!”

Earsplitting laughter echoed through the room, through your ears. You pulled your knees to your chest and brought your hand to your mouth to muffle any outbursts of emotion.

“Considering how serious he is, you would assume! That he would choose a practical, serious woman!”

“Where is she from, again?”

“America, from how she behaves.”

“That explains the lack of discipline.”

You closed your eyes.

“How long would you give them?”

“Six months.”

“Ji-Yu! That is far too generous! I give them! Three months!”

“Ladies, ladies. She can’t live in a world as glamorous as Mr. Han’s. They will divorce as quickly as they met. A country bumpkin will always return to the landfill they came from.”

“Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“Are you paying?”

Another bought of laughter resounded… then, silence. You stood slowly, legs shaking and back aching more than it had that morning.

You went from wanting full transparency to wanting the false reassurance of superficiality.

“So stupid,” you murmured.

~~~

“What’s next on the agenda,” Jumin demanded as he walked straight to his office.

“A meeting at 1430 with Amorepacific,” Jaehee answered, easily keeping pace with her boss.

Jumin slid his sleeve up, checking his watch. “Good, I have time to eat lunch with my wife.”

“Enjoy your time with her, Mr. Han, but please be in Boardroom D ten minutes before the meeting.”

“Yes, yes, fine.” Jumin pushed the door open and was greeted by your swollen red eyes and dripping nose.

“Welcome back,” you sniffed, forcing a smile.

Jumin’s nonchalant expression immediately shifted to one of anxiety. His brows creased, his eyes grew, and he flew to your side. “Darling, what… why are you crying?”

Your voice quivered. “Can I go home?”

“Talk to me,” Jumin urged, grabbing your hands. “Is your back hurting you? Did anyone try to come in?”

“No, no… I just… I want to go home,” you cried, pulling your hands from Jumin’s and covering your face.

“All right… all right, darling,” Jumin cooed, grabbing his phone from his back pocket. “I’m calling Driver Kim right now -”

“No,” You blurted. “I want to go home. Where I came from.”

Jumin paused… then quickly snapped into action, carefully grabbing your chin. “Speak to me. Darling? Why are you saying these things.”

“Who am I kidding, Jumin? I can’t… I’m not cut out for this life. I’m not cut out for you, you…! You deserve way better than me. You need a woman who’s mature, demure, graceful… that isn’t me, and you’d be much better off if -”

“Stop,” Jumin boomed.

“You just told me to talk to you!” you babbled.

Jumin’s anxious eyes eased. “Is that what this is about?”

You closed your eyes. “I heard a gaggle of women talking while I was hiding in the bathroom… Jumin, they’re right.”

“Are they?” Jumin asked.

“Well… yeah, I mean… they even attacked you, saying how interested you were in childlike women…”

Jumin wiped your tears with his thumbs. “Mmhm. Complete strangers weighing in on the depth of our relationship… it never occurred to me that I should take their opinions to heart.”

You hiccupped. “All I’m saying, Jumin, is… I didn’t realize how ridiculous I made you look… I didn’t consider it.”

“What is there to consider?” Jumin asked gently. “You would rather take their words to heart over how happy you make me when you smile? How fast you make my heart beat when I see how eager you are to explore different things? How, in a sea of millions, your eyes are the only ones I will ever look for?”

Your lip quivered.

“Others will have our opinions of us, but you will always be my wife. No matter what is said, I will always come to you. I want you to realize this, that you may finally lean on me… that you will irrevocably trust that my love for you is infinite.

”… Jumin!“ You sobbed, tears streaming down your eyes. “You weren’t supposed to make me cry more!”

Jumin roughly tugged you in and held you fiercely, kissing the top of your head. “No more talk of you leaving me… don’t go anywhere. Stay by my side, and rest assured that I will stay by yours.”

“Forever?” You squeaked.

“And ever,” Jumin whispered vehemently. “Ah… your back -”

“Don’t you dare pull away from me, Jumin,” you half-joked.

“… Ha. I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear. What do you say we grab some lunch, hm? Your choice.”

“Sure… fifteen more minutes like this, first,” you replied, your mouth pressed against Jumin’s chest.

Jumin laughed and rested his cheek atop your head. “Excellent plan.”