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The days after the accident settled into a quiet rhythm.
Mornings were slow – sunlight spilling into their kitchen as Jimin shuffled in, hair messy, oversized shirt hanging loose on his small frame. Jungkook would already be at the stove, the smell of fresh toast and coffee filling the air.
“Morning, love,” Jungkook would say, sliding a plate toward him.
“Morning,” Jimin would hum, leaning down to kiss his cheek before curling into the chair. They didn’t talk much in the mornings – they didn’t need to. The warmth in the air said enough.
Their days were a mix of rehabilitation exercises for Jungkook, work, and Jimin fussing over him more than necessary. Evenings were theirs – reading on the couch, Jimin resting against Jungkook’s side while Jungkook’s arm lay around him like it belonged there. Sometimes they’d talk about silly things; sometimes they’d talk about the accident. And sometimes they said nothing at all, content in the sound of each other’s breathing.
—
That night, the air felt different.
Jimin had just finished his shower, stepping into the bedroom with damp hair, a loose shirt clinging to his collarbone, and the faint scent of his shampoo wrapping around Jungkook like a spell.
Jungkook was already in bed, leaning back against the headboard, watching him in the dim light. Jimin smiled softly as he climbed in beside him, curling close like always.
But tonight, Jungkook’s hand lingered – sliding gently over Jimin’s arm, fingertips brushing up his shoulder, stopping just short of his chest. His voice was low, almost hesitant.
“Is it… okay if I touch you there?” he asked, searching Jimin’s eyes.
Jimin blinked, taken aback for a moment. His lips curved into a small smile.
“You don’t need to ask me that,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over Jungkook’s jaw. “We’re married.”
Jungkook held his gaze. “I do need to. I should. Every man should even if they’re married.”
The sincerity in his tone made Jimin’s breath catch. His eyes softened, heart swelling. “Then… yes. You can.”
Jungkook leaned forward, their foreheads touching before his lips found Jimin’s – slow, lingering, a kiss that carried every ounce of love he’d held back. His hands explored gently at first, learning, cherishing, before pulling Jimin impossibly closer.
Jimin sighed into the kiss, fingers gripping the back of Jungkook’s shirt, his body melting into the warmth that had saved him more times than he could count. Jungkook’s mouth trailed down his jaw, to the curve of his neck, his movements careful yet filled with an aching need.
“You’re everything to me,” Jungkook whispered against his skin.
“And you’re mine,” Jimin breathed back, voice trembling with emotion.
Clothes fell away in unhurried motions, each touch deliberate, each kiss a promise. The world beyond their bedroom didn’t exist – only the heat of their bodies, the sound of their breathing, the quiet words of love exchanged between gasps and kisses.
The night was still humming with the afterglow of their closeness, their breaths still uneven, their bodies tangled under the dim light filtering through the curtains. Jungkook, with a softness that felt almost sacred, slowly sat up. Jimin thought he was going to grab the blanket to cover them, but instead Jungkook shifted down, his hands gently cupping Jimin’s ankle.
Without a word, Jungkook lowered his head, pressing his forehead against Jimin’s foot as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His movements weren’t rushed or teasing – they were quiet, deliberate… almost like a prayer.
Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise, the warmth from Jungkook’s gesture melting into a wave of flustered panic. He immediately sat up, pulling his feet back into his lap.
“Y-You shouldn’t do that,” Jimin said softly, his voice trembling, unsure if it was from embarrassment or the flood of emotion. “You’re my husband. It’s… it’s disrespectful to you if you touch my feet like that.”
Jungkook looked up at him, his gaze steady, unwavering. His tone was calm but firm, like he was stating an absolute truth.
“It’s not disrespectful to me.”
Jimin blinked, searching Jungkook’s eyes. “…why?”
Jungkook’s lips curved into the faintest smile – not playful, but sincere, almost reverent. He took Jimin’s hand and placed it against his own heartbeat.
“Because you’re my goddess,” he murmured, his voice deep and sure. “And you should be worshipped by me.”
Jimin’s breath caught in his throat. The words didn’t feel like mere romance – they felt like a vow. His chest tightened, and his eyes brimmed with tears he didn’t even notice falling.
Jungkook leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to Jimin’s, their noses brushing. “For the rest of my life,” he whispered, “I’ll never stop.”
Jimin’s lips trembled into a smile before he kissed him, slow and lingering, pouring all the gratitude, love, and awe he felt into that one moment. The world outside didn’t exist – it was just them, their love, and the quiet promise that this bond would be cherished forever.
When they finally lay tangled together, chest to chest, Jungkook’s hand threaded through Jimin’s hair, his other arm holding him as if to shield him from every danger the world could offer.
“Goodnight, my forever,” Jungkook whispered.
Jimin smiled sleepily against his chest. “Goodnight, my miracle.”
And in that quiet, the story of their love found its perfect ending – not with grand declarations, but with the simple truth that they had each other. Always.
The official end~💗✨
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