The morning light filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. The atmosphere was still, except for the faint rustling of fabric as Taehyung stepped out of the bathroom, a plush white towel draped over his head, drying his damp hair. His muscles ached pleasantly from the events of last night, but more than anything, his heart felt full—satisfied in a way words couldn't quite capture.
His gaze drifted to the enormous bed, where a sight so endearing met him that he had to pause for a moment. There, nestled amidst the silken sheets, lay his bratty little wifey—his Jungkook—fast asleep, curled up into himself, barely visible beneath the oversized shirt he had stolen in the middle of the night. Jungkook was deep in slumber, lost in the warmth of their bed, dressed in nothing but Taehyung’s oversized shirt showing off his pretty red plumpy ass.
The fabric pooled around his delicate frame, the collar slipping off one shoulder, revealing smooth, milky skin marked with faint traces of Taehyung’s possessiveness.
A slow, knowing smile formed on Taehyung’s lips as he took in the sight before him. Jungkook, so small, so curled up, looked utterly exhausted, his soft pink lips parted slightly, his breathing gentle and rhythmic. His fluffy hair was a mess, strands sprawled out in all directions, a clear sign of how much he had tossed and turned before slipping into deep slumber.
Taehyung ran a hand through his own damp locks, shaking his head as he chuckled under his breath. He had known it—his brat wouldn't be able to move properly today. How could he, after all? The events of last night had left him completely spent, limbs trembling, voice hoarse from both pleasure and whines of protest. Even now, Taehyung could almost hear the complaints Jungkook would launch at him the moment he woke up—probably something dramatic like "You ruined me, Taehyungie hubby!" followed by an exaggerated pout.
"Taehyungie hubby! I can’t move!"
"You did this on purpose, didn’t you!?"
"You monster! I demand a redo—this time, I will be in control!"
Still smiling, Taehyung took a few steps closer, his eyes never leaving the sleeping figure. Jungkook looked so innocent like this, so soft and untouched by his usual mischief. It was a rare sight, one that made something deep inside Taehyung stir with a strange mix of adoration and possessiveness. He crouched beside the bed, resting his elbow on the mattress, his fingers reaching out to gently brush aside a stray strand of hair from Jungkook’s forehead.
The younger stirred slightly at the touch, a small noise escaping his lips, but he didn’t wake. Instead, he merely curled in on himself further, clutching onto the pillow tightly, burrowing into the warmth of Taehyung’s scent that still lingered in the fabric.
Taehyung let out a breathy laugh. So clingy even in sleep.
His fingers trailed down, ghosting over the soft curve of Jungkook’s cheek before settling under his chin. Mine. The thought came unbidden, but it resonated deeply. This boy—his bratty, dramatic, beautiful wifey—was his now, completely and entirely.
Leaning in, he pressed a lingering kiss to Jungkook’s forehead, whispering against his skin, "Sleep while you can, love. You're going to whine all morning anyway."
He chuckled under his breath before standing up, making his way to the closet to get dressed. He had barely taken a step when he heard a soft, groggy mumble from behind him.
"Tae…hyungie…?"
Oh, here it comes. The morning tantrum.
Jungkook groaned softly as he stretched, his body protesting the movement. His limbs ached in places he didn’t even know could hurt, every muscle sore from the night before. He winced as he tried to push himself up, but the pain sent a wave of discomfort rushing through him. His arms felt like they were made of jelly, and his legs were far too stiff to function properly.
