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Marriages are made in heaven

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Whoever said marriages are made in heaven didn’t know shit, for sure. Jungkook wanted to hunt that person down and flick their forehead. The thin band of gold flashed on his finger as he moved to his hand to fist it by his cheek. He dug his head farther into the pillow, pretending to sleep.

Jungkook…” It was a full on yell now. “I know you are awake.”

See this is what happens when you marry the love of your life. They fucking know everything about you, from the number of eyelashes on your eyelid to the way you poop. Fucking hell.

He mumbled incoherently into the pillow.”mfmmhgdg”

“What?” His husband asked.

That sounded way too close.

Jungkook pried his eyes open to the image of a hands-on-the-hips, underwear wearing Jimin and flashing eyes. He groaned.

“You know what day is today?”

Jungkook made a garbled sound.

“It’s Tuesday.” Jimin supplied helpfully

“Tuesday night fucks are the best.”

“Tuesday is trash night.”

Jungkook snored. His husband wasn’t falling for it and pushed him. Jungkook flopped on his back like a dead fish.

“Go put out the trash.”

“Are you kidding me…we just fucked and I need a moment.”

“Jungkook, you have like three jobs around here…”

That person of marriages-in-heaven shit deserved more than a flick on their forehead. A head butt sounded about right.

“Fucking hell, Jimin, I like just shot my load. Can I get it in the morning? I just want to cuddle with you ‘cos I love you more than anything.” He paused for effect. “In the world.”

“If you don’t take the trash out, I’m divorcing you.” Jimin responded, completely unaffected, while pulling on pants.

Ha! Jimin didn’t mean it. He fucking adored Jungkook.

“I mean it.”

Jungkook sat up and rubbed his eyes, playing pitiful for all that was worth. Jimin clothed himself fully and turned to him.

“I’ll even help you. It’s starting to stink because of the pork.” He threw at Jungkook and walked out of their bedroom.

Jungkook had a brief flash of insanity when he considered falling back on bed. He got up and hauled the sweatpants that he had kicked off an hour ago and jogged to the kitchen.

“Why are we doing this right now?”

Jimin was going through the fridge, picking out random dying items to be thrown in the trash. He chucked a wilted lettuce head at Jungkook. Only it wasn’t lettuce. It was probably a watermelon in it’s previous life. He caught it before it crashed into his head and aimed it towards the trash can.

”Boom! Nothing but the nets, baby.” He said, pleased, when it went in dead and centre. “Can’t we do this in the morning?”

“No we cannot, because you will forget. We have to drop off Vincent in the morning and we will be running late because we fucked hard in the night.”

“We could do that right now and get another round.”

“Nope. If you don’t get out the trash, the left over pork and lettuce would mate to grow tentacles.” Jimin shuddered. “And then it will have to sit here for a week and I will have nightmares.”

So off Jungkook went, into the frigid October air, carrying a trash bag containing pork and lettuce that might morph into tentacle nightmares. He walked down the short driveway, bare foot and bare chested and dropped the bag beside the drive. He took a moment to scan his neighbourhood in silence. They lived in a fairly middle class area. The houses were old but kept decently. He narrowed his gaze at the house on his left. There was an assortment of flamingos in varying shades of hellish pink, adorning the yard. There was a shit ton of them, like way more than an old retired widower could afford.

“Honey bunch, pumpkin pie…” Jungkook called out as he re-entered their love nest. “I think our sweet old neighbour is in the mafia. How else can he afford all the motherfucking flamingos.”

“Enough about the flamingos, Okay? And you hate pumpkin pie. Nice try, calling me that.”

“But snugglekins, gumdrop, my snookums....” Jungkook made a kissy face.

Jimin gave him the finger.



Jungkook wandered into the kitchen at six in the morning to the smell of eggs cooking and three year old Vincent, offspring of their friends Taehyung and Laika, sitting at his dining table and clinking two spoons together in a headache inducing way, while Jimin cooed from the stove. Jungkook scratched his balls and plastered himself to his husband’s back.

Oof.” Jimin grunted and turned his face.

Jungkook kissed him because he could.

Ugh. Brush your teeth.”

Jungkook ignored him and snuffled his face into Jimin’s nape.

“How do you want your eggs, Gguk?” Jimin asked in a tender tone.

“Scrambled, with cheese and mushroom.”

“Got it. Now get off and brush your teeth.”

Mornings in October, they seemed to run the same way as mornings in September and the months before that. And contrary to Jimin’s promise of fucking hard, it didn’t happen, because Vincent. Sleepovers with kids, gotta love them. Nothing like a little knee to the guts at three in the morning. Vincent had crawled into heir bed at one, crying from a nightmare. The kid moved around a lot. No sooner than he would have recovered from a blow to his kidneys, when a finger would poke his eye. Jimin fared no better and by the time they woke up, they were both bruised and battered while Vincent slept like a little angel. But thank god for kind husbands, who let their loser halfs sleep in a little more while they took on the battle to the kitchen like a trooper.

He brushed his teeth blearily and splashed cold water onto his face, making himself presentable for Jimin’s breakfast. He trudged back to the kitchen to find Jimin sitting down with coffee and eggs.

“Yay! Today you are going to see daddy and mommy.” Jimin was saying.

A mutinous look spread into Vincent’s face.

“No. You come with me.” Vincent said belligerently.

“To your house?” Jimin asked.

Vincent nodded.

“And me?” Jungkook asked.

“Nuh-uh. Only Jiminie Unca”

“This kid’s got real skills to be in the MMA.” Jungkook grumbled.

Jimin smothered a laugh and shovelled in a forkful of eggs.

“Didn’t you bring me any?”

“They are in the frying pan. Help yourself.”

“This is how it begins.” Jungkook huffed. “Not even married two years and the blush is off the rose. Honeymoon phase over. Next you will come to bed and say you have a headache.”

Jimin chortled and slapped his ass as he walked past him to the stove. “So dramatic.”

Jungkook got his plate and the three of them sat at the table, digging in with various levels of gusto. Breakfast done, they showered, shaved, dressed and got Vincent ready for a reunion with his parents. Hardly ten words were spoken by them in the process and every other gap was filled in by Vincent. He talked non stop, a young Kim Taehyung trait that would serve him well. Talk loudly and steadily for maximum impact and ultimate irritation. Gotta admire those skills.

The ride to the Kims took about half an hour. Vincent was singing along to My heart will go on until Jungkook could bear it no more and he joined in. He tried, really he did. He even dug his fingers into the tender skin of his palm but the on and on got to him and then he had to. Jimin gripped the steering wheel like he wanted to throw the both of them out or maybe throw himself out. Equal chances of that happening.

They barely pulled into the driveway when the door burst open and Kim Taehyung, best friend of an indeterminate number of years came barrelling out of the door. He was all sorts of pulled together in wide legged pants that could house a gopher or two and a loose yellow shirt. It was a wild reunion between parent and child and Jungkook stood at a safe distance. Jimin was meshed somewhere in the tangle of father and son.

“We painted toes.” Vincent shrieked, showing off bright fire engine red tipped toes to his father.

“And fingers.” Jimin said from the side, waggling his fingers.

“I painted them.” Vincent boasted.

Paint was an exaggeration. It looked like Jimin had dunked his fingernails into a vat of orange nailpolish. It had looked worse the evening before and Jungkook has had to remove polish off Jimin’s knuckles and even his neck. Jungkook had arrived at the startling realization that nailpolish was like sand. It got everywhere and went nowhere how much ever he tried.

“That you did baby.” Taehyung cooed. “Thank you both so much for taking care of him for the last two days. I’m sorry that I sprung this up on you in the last minute.”

“It’s fine.” Jungkook said. “How is Laika’s mother?”

“She’s doing much better especially after seeing us. Laika stayed back to be with her mom, until the end of this week.”

“Good.” Jungkook said and then narrowed his eyes.

Jimin sighed.

“But tae tae…” Jungkook started off in a sugary sweet tone. “There were no socks in the bag you packed for Vincent.”

“I must have forgotten it. Just come on. He is at your place every other month and I reckoned you would have a sock or two.” The best friend of indeterminate number of years replied.

“What kind of a father packs a bag with no socks?” Jungkook said witheringly.

Jimin snorted.

“Why aren’t you backing me up on this?” Jungkook asked his husband.

“What am I supposed to do? Jump down the guy’s throat because he was in a hurry and forgot to pack socks? Give him a break.”

“See, this is what I don’t get about you.” Jungkook scoffed. “You are the first one to give anyone grief over things and yet you let Taehyung get away with being so scattered about socks.” By anyone, he meant himself of course.

“First, darling love of mine, Its socks.”

“Okay and…?”

“And what?” Jimin hooked his hands on his hips. Cute.

“You said, first, darling love of mine….” Jungkook laid heavy emphasis on that word.

“That is all you fuc....errr….Sweetie pie. It doesn’t make Taehyung a bad guy. Plus we got socks at Walmart.”

Walmart?” Taehyung’s eyebrows shot up as did his voice. They ignored him.

“My cupcake, honeybear, bumble bee, buttercup…”

“Get to the point, will you?” Taehyung interrupted Jungkook. They both glared at him.

“Hi. I’m here.” Taehyung piped up, annoyed by the glares. “I rather not you two have a conversation as if I’m not right in front of your balls, thank you very much.”

“Balls, daddy? Where?” Vincent asked, eyes darting around.

All three adults stilled.                                             

“Kim Taehyung! Not in front of Vincent you absolute of my heart.” Jimin scolded. 

Not finding balls in the near vicinity, Vincent latched onto Jimin’s leg, claiming him. They had to pry him off with kisses and the promise of a sleepover in the weekend.

Jungkook would end the best friend of indeterminate number of years if there were no socks in the weekend bag.



Jungkook was irritated. The living room was cluttered and there were a hundred things of Jimin’s lying around. His irritation mounted as he laid eyes on each item. He placed his back pack on the floor and rolled his shoulders, tired after a long day. He gathered up books, rings, cellphone charger, stationery and swept into their study, dumping it on the table to be sorted later. When he stalked into the kitchen, his brain exploded. The counter was dirty and dishes piled high in the sink. He set about nosily cleaning up, banging pots and pans in frustration and it drew Jimin out of the bedroom. 

“Gguk?” He asked with hesitation. “When did you come?”

Jungkook did not answer. 

“Jungkook? Leave it. I was going to clean up and…”

He rounded on Jimin, pausing in his search through the cabinet for dishwashing liquid.

“When, Jimin? You know how much I hate coming home to so much clutter.” He slammed the dishwasher door so hard that the counter vibrated.

“Why are you so worked up over this? I said I will clean up.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to ask you to do it, Jimin! I wish you would do it yourself.”

“I was going to, Gguk.”

“You always say this. I’m sick and tired of it.” Jungkook spun and ripped open the cabinet where clean glasses were kept. The hinges squeaked in protest. Someone needed to put oil on them but it wasn’t going to be him and it wasn’t going to happen right now.

Jimin picked up a cloth to wipe the counter and Jungkook grabbed it out of his hands. “I said I don’t want you to do it.”

“That makes no sense.” Jimin yelled.

“How many times do you want me to explain it? I want you to want to do this yourself. Not after you see me cleaning up after your mess!”

“It’s a fucking house. Not a museum. Not everything has to be clean and perfect all the time.” Jimin said, shoulders tense.

“I like my house neat and clean. I like to come back to order.”

“You act as if this place is a pigsty all the time.” Jimin countered.

“It fucking is, Jimin. I hate it!”

“Nice. Thanks for that. Nothing like a vote of confidence from the husband on how much he hates to live with me.”

“Jimin, I didn’t mean it that way.” Jungkook stepped closer.  “Don’t be mad.”

“I wasn’t mad until you said that. Just fuck you for that, Jungkook. Really.”

“I just… It was a long day and I wanted to come back to a neat home.” Jungkook whispered.

Jimin sighed. “Gguk….Come here.” He held his arms open.

Silently, Jungkook entered his circle of arms and tucked his head into Jimin’s shoulder, his smell invading Jungkook’s soul like a cat on a sun warmed sofa, just as it always did.

“This life here, this house, this whole existence?” It’s all donkey’s balls without you by my side.” Jungkook held on to his warmth, his moon.

Jimin laughed and ran his fingers through Jungkook’s hair. “You don’t do good with emotional stuff.”

“Oh please, I fucking ace emotional shit.” He raised his head and bumped his nose with Jimin’s. “I married you, and I say all kinds of pretty, flowery things to you.”

“Yeah like donkey’s balls.” Jimin’s eyes were full of mirth and he pressed a kiss to Jungkook’s collarbones.

Jungkook pulled Jimin to him, hard. “You believe me?”

“Yeah I do, Gguk. Even if it sucks donkey’ balls, I believe you.”

“Okay. Good. Now get your ass to clean the counters.” He pinched Jimin’s butt.

And Jimin said he didn’t do emotional stuff good. Ha!



"You going to pick up washing powder from the store?" Jungkook shouted, and waited.

"What?" Jimin yelled back.

"Laundry powder... Can you get laundry powder?" He bellowed.

"Okay." Jimin boomed from somewhere. "Which one?" 

"The lavender one." he screamed.

"Okay pooh bear, sweetums...I'm leaving."

"Bye sugar lips, squiggles, my poo butt. Come back soon." Jungkook shouted.

Taehyung of the indeterminate number of years of best friendship fixed a horrified look at Jungkook as his mouth fell open. "Y'all cant text each other this.." he paused to cover Vincent's ears.  "..shit?" he ended in a whisper.

"Poo butt." Vincent giggled from Taehyung's side

Sometimes marriage was ninety percent yelling what and thousand other mundane things from various rooms in your house and it was okay.



Several days after the good times in the kitchen where they spoke of donkey's balls, Jungkook was hiding in the bathroom. Their house was filled with insane people and he needed a little break. He was confident that Jimin could handle the masses in his absence. Was he glad he married an extrovert because he could not imagine having his better half take a break and leave him alone to face people. As he was admiring the tile patterns, the door opened a crack.

“Hi Unca Jungoo..” Vincent pushed his way in.

Jungkook smiled. “Hey Vincent.”

“Are you pooping?”

He shook his head. “Nah, just taking a five.”


“Five minutes alone.” He leaned up to rest his elbows on his knees. “See, sometimes the world seems like it is too much, right? You know what I mean?”

Vincent chewed on his finger. “I cry sometimes.” He said sagely.

“Right..When I want to cry, I find a nice alone spot like this.”

Vincent cocked his head.

Okay, Jungkook must take the direct approach. Hints apparently did not work on the kid.

“Go find your dad or uncle Jimin.”

“I want to kiss squirrel.” Vincent said running over his request like a road roller.

“Sorry buddy, you can’t kiss a squirrel. They are too far up in the trees.”

“You kiss squirrel?”

“Nope. I don’t kiss squirrels.”

Vincent folded his arms over his chest like some goddam mafia boss of flamingos. “You kiss girls?”

“Sometimes. In the past, before I met your uncle Jimin.”

“You kiss boys.” This wasn’t delivered as a question. It was a statement. “Like unca Jiminie.”

“Yes, I kiss only Jimin.”

“No squirrel?”

“No squirrels.”

Vincent mulled this over, his overgrown bangs sliding into his warm chocolate eyes.

“I kiss boys too.” He announced proudly. “Like you, daddy, Unca Jiminie…”

“Cool. Boys are fun to kiss.”

“I kiss girls too.” He said as if a monumental decision has been made.

“Awesome. We will all love you if you kiss boys, girls and even squirrels.”

Vincent grinned. “But I kiss Unca Jiminie the best.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. MMA fighter? Nah, the kid has skills of a mafia boss.

“Unca Jungoo?”


“I have to poop.”



“You okay, Stinky poo bear?” Jimin asked when he fought his way to the kitchen.

“Yes, my Jelly belly, my booger, my stinky binky.”

Jimin looked so good standing in their kitchen, in worn jeans and a simple black tshirt. The jeans had holes in them, at the knee and one on his thigh. Jungkook wanted to slip a finger into that hole on his thigh and touch his flesh, feel the hair on his leg and allow the warmth of Park Jimin to seep into his soul.

Jimin placed a hand to his cheek. “What took you so long? You disappeared for more than your customary five to ten minutes”

“Had to help Vincent poop.” Jungkook wrinkled his nose and weaseled his way under Jimin’s left arm. “In my defense, I didn’t think the kid had that much shit in him.”

Jimin crushed his arm around him and Jungkook flailed. “You sure, you okay?”

“Not when you are choking me like this.” Jungkook garbled out.

Jimin released his hold and rubbed his cheek against Jungkook’s. “You and me, we got this. Don’t go running out on me and come find me if you feel like taking a break”

Jungkook inhaled the fresh scent of shampoo and the faint perfume lingering on Jimin’s skin and wondered how he landed this man.

“Hey, I kiss you the best right?”

“Depends… On what the comparison is.” Jimin said mischievously.

Well fuck, Unca Jungoo married no loser, that’s for sure.


Later that night, Jungkook was lying on their bed, half asleep. The bathroom door opened and he heard Jimin walk up to the bed. He followed the sound to see Jimin wearing only a blue jockstrap. It took one full second for his brain to drink in the image and get with the plan. The bed dipped in front of him and Jimin’s lips parted and Jungkook slid in, sweeping hotly into his mouth, sucking on his plump lower lip, rolling his tongue over Jimin’s until they were both full of emotions that burst and zinged.  

“I love you in a jock strap.” Jungkook said while roughly massaging his ass. Jimin made tiny little sounds like a cat rubbed just in the right way. His back bowed slightly, pushing his back higher.

“You wanna lie down for me?” Jimin asked and Jungkook hurried to comply, tugging off his tshirt and shorts. He then fell back onto the bed. Jimin removed his jock strap and slid over him, making sure to drag his stiff cock over him. He positioned himself between Jungkook’s legs and bent down to drop light kisses on his cock and balls.

“I need you inside me, Gguk.” He groaned and wrapped his fingers around the root of Jungkook’s cock.

That sounded good, but Jungkook needed to taste him first. Every fucking inch of him. He flipped them over and started at Jimin’s mouth, making a wet path over his body, stopping to suck on his nipples before moving down his body. He licked and lapped at his sides, his belly, the soles of his feet and the back of his knees. He lifted one of Jimin’s legs, rubbed his face over the solid muscle there and then sucked on his ankle bone. Jimin writhed and murmured, his body moving in a sinful way. Jungkook worked his way from his ankle to his balls. Using his nose, he nudged them aside and lapped at his hole.

“Fucking hell.” Jimin gasped.

Jungkook’s grip on his ankle tightened and he feasted on him. Jimin cried his name and pumped his hips, opening himself wider and wider. He was frantic by the time Jungkook slithered back up over him.

“Fuck I love you.” Jimin breathed out, almost like a curse and melted under him. He handed Jungkook the lube. Jungkook couldn’t get slicked up and inside him fast enough. His cock pressed deeply into Jimin and he fell on him, his teeth finding an earlobe as he began to rock in and out. Jimin grabbed his ass, his back bowing off the bed, his toes digging into the back of Jungkook’s legs. His husband led the show. Sure, Jungkook was on top, he was the one penetrating Jimin, but it was Jimin in control. As always. And he loved that part of them, how Jimin knew how to lead him, where they needed to be and when he needed to be led the most.

“Faster, deeper.” Jimin panted and Jungkook did as he wished. As he always would, because Jimin was his moon, his light in the dark.

“Gguk, I’m close.”

“Me too” he grunted.

He thrust hard and blew apart. Jimin followed a moment later, his cock kicking between them. Hot thick cum coated their bellies. Jungkook pushed deeper into Jimin, making him wince and groan. His cock pulsed inside Jimin, filling him. Jimin held on tight, his fingertips gouging painfully into the muscles of Jungkook’s back.

“Love you….so fucking much.” Jungkook coughed, after his brow dropped to Jimin’s shoulder

Jimin continued to embrace him. He held Jungkook so long that their bodies began to cool. But inside, Jungkook was so warm with the light of his moon that he didn’t care.



When Jungkook rolled from his back to his side, he found his husband staring at him with soft eyes. Jungkook’s eyes were gooey and blurry with sleep and for some stupid reason, they got a little blurrier for a second.

“I love waking up with you.” Jimin said with his perfect, sleepy, sated smile.

When he smiled, those damn tears welled up properly. Jungkook pulled the covers up to his chin and used the edge of the sheet to dry his stupid eyes. Because Jimin was so lovely, just fucking lovely. The way his hair was sex-tangled, how his face was so open, the soft sound of his voice, the thick sweep of his eyelashes.

“You always cry easily, Gguk.” Jimin murmured fondly.

“Who said I’m crying?” Jungkook demanded and shot up like a newly released spring.

Jimin rolled those pretty peepers of his. “Shut up and come here.”

Jungkook scrambled to obey. Jimin leaned in, his forehead touching Jungkook’s. “I like being married to you.”

Jungkook nodded and massaged the nape of Jimin’s neck, hard, just how Jimin liked it. Jungkook’s stomach rumbled loudly. A smile flitted over Jimin’s beautiful mouth and Jungkook couldn’t go any longer without touching those lips. He thumbed the lower one. Jimin’s thick lashes rested on his cheeks in contentment. All was silent and restful between them and then Jungkook’s stomach made another growling sound.

“Let me go get you something to eat.” Jimin said and Jungkook released his neck to slide his hand down Jimin’s chest, the firm muscles of his pectorals rubbing his palm as Jungkook’s fingers traveled downward. Jimin’s belly was warm. The urge to bury his face in Jimin’s stomach and hold him forever was strong.

“What sounds good?”

“You. Me. Naked sex.”

“How about a grilled cheese tomato sandwich?”

“Yeah. That’s good too.”

Jimin brushed a soft kiss to his head and then to his lips. He stood up and left Jungkook on the bed. Because that’s what kind husbands do. They leave their loser halfs to burrow themselves in their warm cocoon like beds while they went out into the cold to provide for growling stomachs.


Whoever said marriages are made in heaven didn’t know shit, for sure. Jungkook wanted to hunt that person down and flick their forehead and tell them it was made right here in the heart of this incredible man, his moon, who loved him like he was drawing in the whole essence of Jungkook, whirling it around his heart and dancing with his soul.