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Jimin is drunk.
So ridiculously fucking drunk.
Perhaps if Jimin was a little less cute or got this shit-faced inebriated much more often Jungkook could bring himself to complain about the difficult task of getting his hardly-functioning fiance home. But the truth of the matter is that he is both very very cute and a man who knows how to hold his liquor.
Despite his small body and sweet disposition, Jungkook has never met someone with such ridiculous tolerance, a novelty that's become his fiance's own little party trick: rapidly downing an entire line of shots down a bar counter with an ease and swiftness that would make you believe it was simply water.
That's why when Jimin kept scrambling to Jungkook with a goofy grin and lisped, slurred words to show off the drinks the bartender kept giving him and insisting he could still handle more when asked if he was alright, Jungkook believed him.
(It was definitely not the bartender giving him free drinks out of the goodness of his heart and most certainly the doing of the group of interested men Jungkook has been keeping his eyes on at the other side of the bar, but he's too in love to break Jimin's drunken happy shine.)
And to Jimin’s credit, he really did handle all the alcohol with nothing but giddiness and grace. That was until a man at least three times Jimin's size had challenged him to a drink-off and he had this thick air of unwarranted, misinformed confidence that had his fiance smirking around his acceptance.
Of course, Jimin had won.
But not without its consequences.
The consequences in particular being Jungkook having to manhandle a completely limp Jimin spouting incomprehensible nonsense from the bar to their car parked down the street without a concerned citizen calling the police on him.
Then there's this: Jimin shifting to bleary-eyed, faint awakeness from where he was napping in the passenger seat. He blinks wetly at Jungkook with owlish eyes, face stained ruby and curiosity playing at the corner of his slick lips.
Before having even uttered a word, Jungkook recognizes exactly the level of drunk Jimin is. He can do nothing now but send prayers out to his resolve.
"Hi, baby," Jungkook greets, voice tinged with the slightest hint of nervousness.
Jimin hums in his throat and blinks his gleaming, hazy eyes at Jungkook again, his lips pursing cutely as he does so. He opens his mouth, hiccups lightly, and says:
"You should lemme suck your dick."
"Jesus Christ , jagi."
Jimin is at the level of drunk where his brain has transferred from his head to his clit.
"But I wanna. Wanna swallow your big cock sooooo bad," He slurs, soft small hand crawling up the inner seam of Jungkook's thighs, "mm, always wanted to give road head. I'll even swallow your cum. No mess."
To Jungkook's absolute horror Jimin is reaching to unbuckle the seatbelt Jungkook had to bicker with him to put on, slumping to his side to hover over his crotch.
Jungkook flinches and shoves Jimin's heated face back away from his jean-restricted dick (that’s definitely losing the war against his resolve).
"Babyyy," Jimin drawls, cute and petulant and so fucking out of it, "wanna make us both feel so good."
"Sweet as that is, I prefer us both to make it home alive and intact."
He whines and pouts, body twisting with the irritation of not getting his way. "We won't crash," he states with an assuredness no man as hammered as he is should ever have, "my mouth's not that good."
(That's a lie and they both know it.)
Jungkook hits him with a disbelieving quirk to his eyebrows, and Jimin exhales in exasperation before crossing his arms over his chest and turning his attention out the window for the rest of the short drive home.
When Jungkook pulls into the driveway and tries to get them both inside the house, it's no surprise that Jimin is still a bodily mess.
"Up," Jimin demands as his weak knees have him falling back against the car, arms raised for Jungkook to wrap his arms around his middle and lift.
Jungkook does and the little minx hardly waits until he has made it up their doorsteps before he's wrapping himself tight and airless around Jungkook's body and wading wet, satisfied kisses into the sensitive stretch of Jungkook’'s neck between airy groans.
"God, Jimin," Jungkook grunts when Jimin bites at the junction of his shoulder, house keys missing the lock for a third time.
Jimin's response is to squeeze a little tighter, wiggling his body until Jungkook has no choice but to loosen his grip and allow Jimin's ass to slide over his crotch.
"Feel good, don't I?"
"You're a brat."
When Jungkook finally gets inside their home he takes swift, quick steps to the kitchen counter and gently deposits Jimin onto it.
Before he can pull back Jimin is catching him by the mouth, moaning over his tongue in saccharine little gasps and satisfied groans. Even like this Jimin is so so good: drawing Jungkook closer with hypnotic rolls of his tongue and lips and hints of teeth; always the master of turning a shallow kiss into an all-consuming addiction.
Jungkook, the fool he is, lets himself fall for it, reveling in his fiance's warmth and bathing gleefully in the calming yet maddening ripples of Jimin's affection despite the bitter affliction of alcohol burning his tongue.
His fingers find wetness- brought forward by Jimin’s hand, not his own- and he flinches something deep, Jimin mewling in protest when his hand snaps away.
"Fuck me. Fuck me on the counter. My pussy won't stop dripping 'cause of you, Jungkook-ah, 'm so sticky."
To enunciate his point Jimin props and widens his wobbled legs up the best he can on the surface of the counter. It's clumsy, his limp legs falling back to his sides within seconds but Jungkook sees what Jimin means to show him:
The sullied crotch of his practically painted-on skinny jeans; sopping wet and only continuing to darken. Chubby fingers glide over the fabric ineptly, Jimin whining in the recesses of his throat when he realizes his fingers are too weak to create any sort of satisfying friction.
Jungkook takes a deep breath as if that alone could inflate his self-discipline along with the confines of his lungs.
"I'm not fucking you anywhere. You can hardly move." Jungkook means it to be stern, but the tone must not carry or Jimin is simply already too cock-drunk to care because his eyes brighten, both begging and hopeful.
"Yeah, mhm. I'm so fucked up, I can't move. Take advantage, use me like this."
"Fuck, fuck."
Jungkook's knuckles have gone red with the force he's been using to clench his hands into fists, fingernails digging sharply into his palms.
How does Jimin always get him like this? How is it even fair for such a wicked, pretty creature to yield such power over him?
"No, um, we're not gonna do that," he informs, scanning the kitchen and scraping his mind for things he needs to do before he gets his cunning tempter of a fiance to go to sleep, "I'm gonna get you some water and pain killers and then find us something to eat."
Jimin bursts into an immediate red-faced giggle, teeth catching at his lips to get himself to stop.
"I have something you can eat. It's your favorite."
Jungkook groans loudly to combat the arousal clambering up his chest with its vicious claws and wills himself to separate from its grinning, dazed cause.
++
It's certainly no easy affair to get Jimin ready for bed.
Despite being mostly inoperable his little fiance still has some (very horny) fight left in him. He licks kitten-like at Jungkook's knuckles and fingers when he pops painkillers and melatonin capsules into his mouth. When Jungkook slowly tries to feed him toast, his sinful rosy tongue graces his own lips to catch stray crumbs in an act more obscene than Jungkook ever thought possible for a food so unsexy.
That's the easy part.
Then there's wrangling him into the bathroom, a daunting challenge with Jimin using his remaining mobility trying to climb up Jungkook like a tree and pawing curiously at his stiffening cock.
Once there, Jungkook lets him sprawl out immobile on the chilled tiled floor with his back against the tub. Jimin is blushed and panting slightly, finding solace in the slated cold against heated skin. Jungkook combs his hair from behind, legs framing Jimin's shoulders from where he sits between them.
Jimin is able to shuffle to his knees when Jungkook asks him to turn so that he can brush his teeth for him. He brushes the bristles along Jimin's bottom teeth, his mouth falling open suggestively.
Jimin certainly doesn't waste the opportunity. He sways his head with the movement of Jungkook's brushing with dexterous, familiar bobs and glares up at Jungkook beneath his wet lashes with a distinctive set to his eyes.
Jungkook is well-acquainted with that look in particular: the lids of his eyes oscillating between sinful sharpness and teary innocence where he twists between Jungkook's knees. His tongue flicks in rolls over the toothbrush, an intentional creamy-white dribble of toothpaste escaping out the side of his mouth and running down his broad chin.
"Do you think you're clever?" Jungkook questions, eyes thinned in desire but his voice docile, even if it's mocking. He squeezes Jimin's cheeks together with a firm hand curled around his chin, his mouth pouting.
"No," Jimin affirms once Jungkook takes the toothbrush out of his mouth and releases his grip. He swipes the rivulet of toothpaste up with a washcloth and Jimin turns his head to chase Jungkook's thumb, trying to suckle it into his warm mouth. "not clever. Jus' need to get fucked good."
"You will," Jungkook replies and Jimin's face glows with his mounting excitement, "tomorrow, when you can actually remember it."
Jungkook clasps the bottom hem of Jimin's shirt and pulls it up over his head.
"I don't care if I can't remember it," Jimin murmurs with a sharp lilt of attitude, "makes it so much better, never knowing what you did to me."
Jungkook rolls Jimin's sleeping shirt onto his bare torso before the vixen can get any more ideas and crouches down to tug Jimin's jeans off. But not before leaving a strand of gentle kisses across Jimin's face and hair.
"Well, I like you knowing what I do to you. Love getting you all wound tight and desperate and shaking."
Jimin groans, head tipping back and bumping against the side of the tub as he does. "You can't tell me you're not gonna fuck me and then say things like that. It's not fair to me or to him."
Jimin points a finger to the warm space between his spread thighs.
Jungkook tilts his head to the side with a chuckle. He supposes that's true.
He lifts Jimin up enough to disconnect his ass from the floor, tugging his too-tight jeans down to his thighs.
To Jimin's shrill delight, his panties come along with it, pasted firmly to the fabric of his jeans with the stick of his arousal. He wanders a hand to his now-bare pelvis, little fingers tapping against his pussy and panties to show Jungkook the thick, gooey webs that follow and break in shining gleams.
"See, Ddiminie wasn't lying. Pussy's so sticky, so needy for you. Don't you want to fuck Ddiminie?"
His eyes are big and glittering and demure. His slim shoulders slope into himself, his lisp thickening around his own adorable nickname, voice soft and slightly trembling.
He's changed his tactics. Jungkook almost finds it embarrassing how apparent his own predictability is.
Even through the dense walls of intoxication and dizziness Jimin can still read him so well, entrap him so swiftly. He knows the only thing that gets Jimin weaker than his shamelessness and promiscuity is his perfect play at the exact opposite: a naive, innocent little angel whose virginal body yearns for nothing but touch.
Jungkook can literally feel himself fucking trembling with the need to give in, to sink his cock right where it will always belong- into whom it will always belong.
Jungkook is going to fuck him deep and mean and merciless tomorrow for the problems he's caused tonight (and for the sorry, blue-balled state of his weeping prick).
"I suppose Ddiminie needs to get himself changed then." Jungkook shoots back, hoping it obscures how deeply he's crumbling.
Jimin's pants come off with a valiant yank around his ankle cuffs, a new pair of underwear and pajama pants being pulled up his calves even as Jimin mutters in an increasingly somnolent flurry: "no, don't need panties, need to be open for you."
Jungkook has to scoop him up off the floor to get them to their adjacent bedroom and Jimin nuzzles into him as he does, exhaling in domestic content.
Jimin's pretty, puffy eyes soften to a drowsy blur as Jungkook wraps him up in their warm blankets, scooching in behind him to lull him deeper into his need for sleep.
(Jungkook's crotch still stays a hearty distance away from the curve of Jimin's ass. As sleepy as the man may now seem, that is still a scheme Jungkook can predict a mile away, thank you.)
The comforting weight of Jungkook's heavy arm around his middle seems to be enough to ward him off to the plains of slumber. He burrows adorably into the mattress, breaths beginning to even out.
Jungkook has just allowed himself to believe that Jimin has finally fallen asleep, desperate to hop in the shower and clean the grime of the night off himself when Jimin speaks again, shallow and hardly audible.
"Jagi, would you fuck me if I was sleeping?"
Jungkook pauses. "What?"
Jimin turns toward him slightly. "If I was asleep would you fuck me?"
Jungkook thinks about how overheated Jimim gets in his sleep and how that would feel around his dick, the gorgeous vision of his slumbering angel face, all the times he's thought about waking him up in the morning with fingers prodding at his holes, and lies.
"U-um. no, I don't think so."
Jimin turns to him more sharply then, face contorted with deeply-dug devastation and eyes glazed over in hefty tears. His bottom lip juts out from his frowning mouth.
"Really? You really wouldn't? I thought you said you loved me." There's a subtle sniffling and oh god, oh no. Jungkook's heart just can't handle the thought of his baby being upset, even when it's over something so silly. "Jagiya, be honest with me, do you not find me attractive anymore?"
Jimin is clearly overemotional and sensitive, the alcohol taking him away from the giddiness and straight to the doorstep of a theatrical sadness.
"God no, of course not. You're the most beautiful person in the world, why would you even think that?" Jungkook crushes Jimin's back to his chest, hoping he can feel the rapid beating of his stressed heart at the sheer implication.
"Then why not?" Jimin whines, but he's already cozying himself back in, Jungkook's assurances placating him.
"Because we're both very, very tired. Don't you want to sleep, honey?"
The moments stretch on in a comfortable yet awaiting silence. Jimin nods his head shallowly, and grumbles out groggily: "Yeah, wanna sleep."
Jungkook waits another half hour to ensure Jimin’'s slumber, chest giving a little pang at having to separate himself from his vulnerable, inebriated fiance.
But it's fine, he thinks, because it's only going to be a quick in and out of the shower before he joins him back in their cozy, content bed.
Except between willing his half-mast down under chilled water and the actual shower and changing his clothes and cleaning up Jimin's mess, what was supposed to be fifteen minutes turned to half an hour, then forty-five minutes, then a full hour.
Most of the time that's fine- it's not a rarity for either one of them to run on a different schedule than the other, and that often includes taking an admonishingly long time in the bathroom while the other is asleep. What that never includes is this:
Jungkook waltzing into their bedroom, exhausted and preemptively deciding he's going to call in tomorrow, only to freeze at the foot of their bed, jaw dropping and the towel around his shoulders falling to the floor.
Jimin is not how Jungkook left him. Instead of carefully propped on his side, he's strewn out in the center of their bed on his back, legs spread wide and body completely devoid of the clothes Jungkook had wrestled onto him.
The moonlight that filters through the curtains brushes his bare body with seductive linings of pale light, pussy glistening in the near-dark from the beams catching teasingly on the drooling wetness.
When he gets his bearings enough to actually be able to think, his first thought is that there's no way his fiance really fell asleep like this.
(His second thought is lamenting the several minutes under cold water it took for his cock to calm down, now that it's sprung up full and angry again.)
But Jungkook checks, and he's certain. Jimin's pert chest rocks in the slightest of waves through his slowed breath, his arms drop limp and loose to the mattress when Jungkook lifts them up. When a thumb gently peels at the lids of Jimin's eyes, all he can see is their whites.
He's passed out. Deeply and unbreakably so.
But he must not have been for the whole time Jungkook was in the bathroom.
On Jimin's toned, soft tummy lies something that was definitely not there prior, sprawled messily in some sort of red ink:
kookie, fuck me ♡
He could quite literally fall to his knees with the force of the despair that strikes him.
He can't give in now. Not after he had made it such a point to not give in to Jimin in the first place.
For what it’s worth, Jungkook does try to ignore the obvious invitation (devilish summoning) to Jimin’s unconscious, tempting body.
(I just need to turn him over, he tells himself, so he doesn't accidentally choke in his sleep.)
He grips an ankle in each hand, planning to close Jimin’s spread legs and turn him back over to his side.
But to not even his own surprise, he finds it impossible to build the fortitude to let go of Jimin’s gorgeous body once he has it in his grip. Jimin's legs do feel noticeably heavier than usual, if only slightly. It’s no doubt owed to his intoxication: body blushed up and balmy, every muscle flaccid, benumbed, and melting into the mattress in a pool of inert, inanimate, filthy sex.
That doesn’t impede on his body’s complete and utter pliancy. His legs follow along swiftly as Jungkook plays with them, the man helpless to break away from the vision before him.
His flesh is soft, soft, soft ; his lax muscles deviating his body from its usual toned firmness. There's no shifting of muscles beneath skin, no natural resistance- just creamy endless flesh, supple and helpless and ripe for the taking. Glowing underneath the moonlight and satin curtains, calling out for him no matter the state of mind. And Jungkook's own flesh calls back, the same way overgrown claws yearn for bark.
"Jimin, baby?" He asks quietly. He lands light little slaps to Jimin's face; just some gentle taps against his plump cheeks and lips. Just to check again. The unconscious man hardly even stifles. He's gone, so gone.
Jungkook finds his biggest traitors to be his own hands. Almost as if they have a mind of their own, they take the lead in toying with Jimin's body.
They grip at his waist, tugging him up just to confirm his limpness- completely malleable, unresisting. His thumbs pinch at Jimin's dark, puffy nipples, digging into the faint, small swell of fat beneath them. His hands find themselves roaming every inch of Jimin's warm body: rubbing gentle circles into his neck, fingernails digging into the meat of his thighs, thumbs prying his sleeping lips open further.
And then right where they want to touch most.
At first, the touch to Jimin's pussy is nothing but a light caress. Shy, even. Just a little feel, he tells himself
But Jungkook finds his natural rhythm soon enough- it's only inevitable, Jimin has fine-tuned him thoroughly in the art of milking his pussy to orgasm, no matter if it's by his hands or mouth or cock.
He can feel his fiance's pulse in his vulva. It's not racing or thrumming, though no doubt if Jungkook had touched him like his fiance had wanted him to earlier it would be. His mound is still noticeably swollen from his earlier arousal. It's almost instinctual how Jungkook flicks the tips of his broad fingers between Jimin's slit, welcoming the wet as they slide through slick folds and beneath his hood, luring out his pretty sensitive clit.
The bud pokes out between his fingers in no time, Jimin's cunt swelling up perfectly against his palm to tend to Jungkook's roughening touch.
And god, his clit just looks so, so pretty: an enchanting hardened nub of cerise adorned by tan and mauve lips. Jungkook can't be blamed if his first reaction is to suckle it into his mouth, to torment it with the greedy tip of his tongue. His fingers remain close, pruning happily as they continue their assault on Jimin's vulva and folds, and eventually shallowly into his hole.
It's a maddening reverie he finds himself in: two fingers pistoning deep and thorough, squelching with every slow dive in. His tongue is submissive to the lull of his sweet clit, torturing and quick.
His trance is only broken when Jimin's limp body curls in a small, subtle thrash. There's more wetness in his palm, and when Jungkook draws away to look at it it's a little thicker and a little more opaque than expected.
Fuck, he just came in his sleep.
“God, what has he done to me?” Jungkook whispers into the still air and hooks the band of his boxers beneath his swollen heavy balls.
His knees find the plushness of the mattress, creeping up the bed between Jimin’s legs.
He is a man brought to his knees, relenting powerlessly to his god.
The thing is, Jimin loves to get fucked rough. He loves being left with faintly bruised hips and a slight wobble to his walk.
Jungkook won’t deny that he loves it too: If anything, satisfying Jimin with a fuck as rough and mean as he can muster can be cathartic - and often even a pinpoint of pride.Yet, Jungkook is a man who lives to indulge himself in the things he loves. Relistening to songs until he has memorized every beat, re-sketching a picture until every line is perfect, spending months carefully planning anniversary trips and birthday parties.
Jimin’s pussy is no exception. It has to be the biggest virtue any man deserving of it can be blessed with: to take his sweet time ravishing such a perfect hole, to draw out the heavenly cushioned feeling of it around his blessed cock.
He will yield to his god, but only on his own greedy conditions.
It’s perverse the way his dick throbs harder when he drags Jimin’s body down the bed to him with liquid ease. The position he shifts Jimin into is even more so.
Just like he initially planned, Jimin is now laying on his side. But one leg is straightened out, the other maneuvered until it’s curled up to his chest as high as it can possibly go. All it takes is the barest tug of a thumb against his ass cheek to open him up beautifully, to relish in the sweet site of his two cute, glossy holes. His pussy is plumped up red and fat, an inviting swell of arousal made even more obscene with the way he’s positioned.
A few light slaps are delivered to an ass cheek, just to delight in the jiggle. Then Jungkook is rubbing the fat head of his cock against his puckered asshole, wetting it with each shallow thrust into the crease of Jimin’s cunt, tapping it against his clit.
Then he’s sliding in.
Jungkook winces when he’s buried in to the absolute hilt, hissing between clenched teeth.
Jimin is so fucking hot. The warmest he’s ever been, dick wrapped in a blinding, sweltering heat that can no doubt be credited to the mixture of warm alcohol and deep sleep.
“Fuck, baby, gonna make me cum before I even start,” he grunts, though he knows Jimin can’t hear him.
He sets a deep, rolling pace. A seamless glide that perfectly accentuates the silkiness of his insides, the gleaming ridges of his cunt, the creamy pool of his slick that thickens with every drenched thrust out. The cushioned tightness, his spongey g-spot.
It’s almost strange, to fuck Jimin without delighting in his beguiling moans and screams. There’s just the sound of Jungkook panting and grunting into the open air, the wet suckling of Jimin’s dewy pussy, and the occasional hardly-audible whimper in the back of his unconscious fiance’s throat.
It’s not enough. Jimin’s entire body is limp and fightless, it’d be a shame to only use his hole.
He pulls out, the sheets becoming beyond ruined with the sheer amount of wetness that drips off his cock as he does so. Jimin is every bit as portable and adaptable as a pretty doll. It hardly takes any effort at all for Jungkook to slide onto the mattress on his back, tossing his fiance’s body tummy-down on top of him.
Jimin is so lithe, his torso so short and sleek. It’s one of Jungkook’s favorite things to wrap his hands around that little waist, to feel out the intoxicating difference between their breadths and thickness. It takes even less effort to control his vice of a body with just an arm, to prop him prettily above his cock and fuck up into him with a resounding slurp.
His other arm curls Jimin into his shoulders, his small face pushed into the pillow right beside Jungkook’s head. Jungkook can feel his shallow breath in his ear and the little halts in his breathing that his cock punches out of him.
It’s perfect like this, so intoxicatingly fucking perfect. Not a single sleepy whimper or subconscious mewl can go unheard with Jimin so close to his ear. The upward thrusts of his hips has Jimin’s body bouncing up airily and the strength of Jungkook’s arm snaked around his back plummets him back down. The filthy thwacks of their sex only continue to grow louder and more poignant, building sharply as Jimin’s pussy continues to drip and drip and drip. Rivulets travel down the seam of his balls and into the crack of his own ass.
“Fuck, honey,” Jungkook moans, arms quickening as they impale Jimin’s pliant body onto his unrelenting cock, “look what you’ve done to me. Look what you’ve made me do you.”
Jungkook can’t believe this is real, that anybody can feel so good and so warm and so tight. There’s sweat building at his neck and back and between their stomachs, the bed rattles against their wall with resounding thumps, but Jungkook couldn’t give any less of a fuck.
There’s nothing now. Nothing but Jimin and his delectable, defenseless body and the ringing that’s intensifying in his ears as his hips hasten. Nothing but the suctioned, syrupy drag that’s milking his cock and drenching his balls.
Usually Jungkook prides himself in his ability to last, but he already feels an orgasm forming deep in his gut- he stands absolutely no chance against the outrageous pleasures of his fiance’s svelte body.
But Jungkook is determined to coax another orgasm out of the sleeping man. He throws him onto his back, legs spread wide and core drooling. Nearly the same way Jungkook found him, except now the sleeping man is red and sweat-slick and swollen - has been visibly used and fucked and ravaged.
Jungkook slides back in with a groan, head falling backward. A thumb races back to that entrancing fattened clit, swiping harsh and quick as Jungkook’s cockhead nestles deeper and deeper with every inward plunge.
There’s a keen trapped in Jimin’s throat, gurgling to the surface. His muscles reflexively clench beneath the flesh of his tummy, a long leg unexpectedly thrashes in Jungkook’s steely hold.
He’s so close to cumming again.
Jungkook isn’t fairing much better: balls drawing up tight and pulse darting faster and faster through his dick. The stimulation has Jimin’s pussy clenching, the slide somehow becoming even more wet.
All it takes is a mean little tug at his clit between his thumb and forefinger to get the coil in his sleeping body to snap. Unlike the shallow orgasm that had waded into Jungkook’s palm earlier, this time it rocks through him so harshly and so intensely that it has Jungkook himself stilling and trying to catch his breath.
Jimin’s pussy absolutely spurts, near-transparent shots of liquid drenching the bed below and reaching up Jungkook’s torso at an impressive height. When it's over, Jimin himself is filthily drenched in his own orgasm.
Jungkook doesn’t dare move- it’s nothing short of a miracle that the tight convulsions of his cunt and the liquid spewing out hotly around his dick didn’t crash him into his own orgasm.
It’s on Jimin’s belly where Jungkook finally cums, his waterlines brimming with overwhelmed and over-pleasured tears. His cock violently twitches as his seed spurts from his tip, climbing up Jimin’s body in long white, creamy strokes.
The majority of it accumulates into a thick pool on his fiance’s abs, sitting perfectly above where Jimin had left that little message for him- the words long since melted into nothing but a faint smear of pink.
Trembling and mindless from the sheer vigor of such a crippling climax, Jungkook hardly even registers himself crouching to the floor and scavenging through Jimin’s discarded clothes.
Marker finally in hand, Jungkook sprawls a scarlet 'happy?’ across the swell of his stomach and promptly passes the fuck out.
++
Jungkook hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Truly.
He had every intention of finding a cloth to clean the cum and sweat and smeared ink off of Jimin’s belly, to at least strip the bed of their ruined sheets, even if it meant they had to sleep on the bare mattress for the night.
Of course, that never happened. When he wakes up the sun is already high in the sky, uncomfortably warm as it beams through the window. The clock on his phone homescreen informs him that it’s 11:45. He hadn’t even remembered to call into work.
(A perverse, unapologetic side of his brain boasts that it was so worth it.)
The air in their adjacent bathroom is warm and damp when Jungkook saunters in to take a leak and scrub the filth off his body. Jimin must have just gotten out of the shower.
He finds his fiance curled up on their couch in the living room. His blonde hair twists into cute little curls as it air dries- the only thing Jungkook can see behind the couch aside from Jimin’s hand poking out over one of the arms to grab gummies from a bag on the coffee table.
Adorable as always.
Swallowing down his worry, Jungkook shuffles to the couch and plops down beside him.
Jimin reaches for the remote and pauses the drama on the television, turning to look at Jungkook with thinned, incredulous eyes.
“My pussy hurts.” He says simply after a tense moment of silence.
“Jimin, I’m so s-”
“You did so well.”
Jungkook pauses, eyes round and glossy. “Really?”
“Really.” Jimin confirms and Jungkook immediately melts into a puddle of relief against Jimin’s side.
“Aw, honey," Jimin coos, "did you really feel that bad?”
Jungkook nods from where he’s nuzzled himself into Jimin’s neck.
“How about this, then,” Jimin starts, pulling Jungkook out of the warm curve of his neck so that he can meet his eyes.
“How about next time I’ll use you while you’re asleep, hmm? Then we can call it even.”
That’s a barter he doesn’t even have to think about.
“Deal.” he answers loud and happily and presses a chaste, loving kiss to his fiance’s lips.