[COMPLETED] ENDURING LOVE (JIKOOK)

Final Chapter; Forevermore

✧༺♥༻∞⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚✧༺♥༻∞˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆✧༺♥༻∞

JIMIN

The first thing I feel when I start to stir is warmth. Not just the kind from the sun peeking through the curtains, but the kind that wraps around me like a shield—the kind that belongs to him.

Jungkook's warmth.

Jungkook's arms are heavy around me, one draped securely over my waist, the other tucked beneath my head. His chest rises and falls steadily against my back, his breath warm against my nape. I can hear the faintest sound of his breathing, deep and even, still lost in sleep.

I sigh, body utterly spent, muscles sore in places I didn't even know could ache. Last night had been... intense. I don't even remember when we passed out—I just know that after everything, Jungkook had held me so close, pressing kisses to my skin, whispering things I was too blissed out to remember.

I blink lazily, shifting slightly, and the movement causes a deep, tired groan to rumble from his chest. Not that I mind. Not when I'm here, wrapped up in his arms, pressed against the steady rise and fall of his chest.

For a moment, I just lay there, breathing him in. The scent of him—faint traces of his cologne mixed with sweat and something undeniably us—grounds me. My muscles ache, my limbs feel boneless, but it's a good kind of exhaustion. The kind that makes me want to melt deeper into him and never move again.

I shift slightly, pressing closer, and a low, raspy hum vibrates from his chest.

"My love..." My voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

His arms tighten around me instantly, pulling me flush against him, as if even the smallest distance is unacceptable. His lips graze my temple, his voice thick with sleep. "Awake already, baby?"

"Barely..." I mumble, burying my face into the crook of his neck. "But you're too warm."

Jungkook lets out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. "So now that's a problem?"

I shake my head weakly, a small pout forming on my lips. "No. Never."

Silence settles between us, thick with comfort, the kind of quiet that doesn't need to be filled. I let my eyes drift shut again, focusing on the steady thump of his heartbeat, the way his fingers lazily trace patterns along my spine.

"Too early..." he buries his face into my hair.

I glance at the clock on the nightstand—11:07 AM.

"My Love, it's almost noon," I chuckle softly.

"Too early," he insists, voice muffled. "Stay."

I let out a small huff, but truthfully, I don't want to move either.

So, I stay.

For a long time, we just lay there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside irrelevant. The only sounds are the occasional hums he lets out, the rustling of sheets when he shifts, and the way his fingers lazily stroke my waist.

Eventually, I feel his lips press against the top of my head. "How are you feeling, baby?"

I blink up at him, meeting his soft gaze. He looks different now—not the commanding, possessive man from last night, but the gentle, devoted husband who worships me in ways words could never capture.

"Sore," I admit, voice laced with exhaustion. "And tired. I don't think I can move."

His lips twitch into a smirk, clearly satisfied with his work. "That good, huh?"