𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐍

jimin *

NO REGRETS

- in which you and jimin wake up together after a night of drinking

WARNING! SMUT AHEAD!

The night blurs into a string of neon-light names and storm-strung songs booming along your bones and by the time you realise you're dancing in some club, with Jimin's hands settled around your hips, you can't think anything of the feel of your bodies, moving like they were just made to move along each other.

You don't remember how the pair of you make it home, but you do remember the agonising gap between one breath and the next during which Jimin's lips find yours and you kiss him back, open mouthed and eager for more.

You don't remember how long it takes to get the both of you naked but you do his remember his laughter, the sound so soft, rumbling and familiar against your collarbone as you tell him about your dreams, the naughty ones involving him, and him admitting that the first time he'd woken up to the thought of you writhing beneath him was three days after you'd met, when you were both only 12.

You don't remember falling asleep, but you do remember the sound of your name against his lips as he asks you if this is okay, as he tells you that he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, until you're both tipping over, the night bursting pleasantly beneath your skin, stars sparkling heavenly between your tongues. You remember telling him that you love him too, just before passing out to the feel of him peppering his purple and red brands with light kisses.

You remember, however, waking up sticky with your tongue thick and head pounding with an immutable headache. You remember trying to recall what happened the night before, realising that you can't feel your right arm or your right leg because they were both dead asleep, just like the body next to you.

Your stomach drops, dropping clean through the floor below and you could've sworn you felt it breaking though the Earth's crust on the other side of the world.

Holy shit.

Beside you, Jimin stirs, frowning and licking his chapped but swollen lips as he shifts to find a more comfortable position now that you're no longer tucked into his chest. He peeks open an eye and tries to get his blurred vision to focus, the world clouding over even as he makes out the shape of your back, bare and marked with the unmistakable evidence of last night.

He yells and jolts up; you wince at the sound.

"Fuck."

You let a humourless chuckle. "That we did."

"Shit, I'm so sorry, I—"

"Shh.." you press a finger to your lips because his voice is too loud considering how close it is to your ear and your mind is singed enough as it is without the way Jimin's voice breaks over his words when he's upset. He lowers his voice along with his shoulders, words now flooding out in hushed, insistent whispers that is no less damaging to your headache then before.

"I was drunk—we were both drunk, and I just—you know how I get when I'm drunk, shit, I shouldn't have taken those last shots—I'm so sorry, god—I didn't mean—well, I mean, I did—no, that's now what—"

He pauses.

"Jimin—"

"I'm sorry."