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Fictober 6/31: Our Love - PJM

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- Word count: 387 (it’s a baby)

- Warnings: a curse word or two, they’re married and just bickering on their honeymoon, jimin’s nakey, ends a lil suggestive.

“Good morning.” I hum from the doorway of the en-suite, laughing a little at how tired he looks. Jimin is sitting fully up in bed while his hair sticks up in all different directions, his swollen face set in a pout. “Hello? Earth to Mr Park?”

“No…” He trails off, flopping back down and covering himself with the thin sheets.

“No?”

“No.”

“Come on, lovie. Breakfast is calling.” I stroll over, harshly yanking the sheet from him and witch-cackling at the harsh glare and bitch face he throws my way. “You have ten minutes before I leave without you. Love you.”

—

“Jimin, my love, why are you naked?” My attention is ripped from the book in front of me, eyebrows furrowed as I hyperfocus on his tattooed back. His reply is a simple wink before walking past the bed to pull open the balcony doors, a gentle wind pushing the dark hair from his face.

“Somebody’s gonna see! Get back in here!” I jump up from the bed, trying to grab his arm to yank him back into the room and away from prying eyes.

“Honey, we’re on the sixty-seventh floor. There’s next to no chance anybody will be able to see us and if they somehow do, they can’t see my face or dick anyway. Look, the balcony is in the way.” He pulls my arm so I can stand beside him and look out, recognising that there’s next to no chance of being caught. None of the buildings around are as tall as this one and the balconies are private and separated by one-way glass, so not even the neighbours can catch a peak at anything unsavoury.

“Still, put some shorts on or something. I don’t need to see your naked ass twenty four seven.” Jimin’s beautiful face drops into a pout, spinning around on his heel to meet me eye-to-eye.

“We’ve only been married three days and you’re already sick of me? I’m calling your mother.”

“Just make sure it’s not a video call, or she’ll see you in your birthday suit.”

“I want a divorce.”

“No, Mr Park, you want an annulment.”

“I stand corrected, Mrs Park. Should we have one last round before we split for good?” I shrug and nod in reply, pulling down my shorts.

“Let’s go, big boy.”