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NEXT MORNING
The sunlight slipped gently through the curtains, warming the edge of the bed where Jungkook lay nestled beneath the covers. His lashes fluttered faintly, still tucked in sleep—until he felt a soft, feather-light press on his lips.
His eyes blinked open, slow and dazed, only to be met with Taehyung’s glowing smile, just inches away.
“Good morning, bun,” Taehyung whispered, his voice low and full of warmth.
Jungkook let out a sleepy yawn, lids heavy, lips curling into a tiny smile. “Morning, Tae,” he murmured back, voice hoarse and boyish.
Taehyung's hand came up, brushing back the strands of hair sticking to Jungkook’s forehead, his thumb gently stroking his cheek. “You okay?” he asked, eyes flickering with a touch of concern. “How’s your back?”
The question made heat rush straight to Jungkook’s ears. Memories of the previous night came flooding back in vivid fragments—their bodies tangled, breathless whispers, Taehyung’s hands, the heat moments. Jungkook shifted slightly under the blanket, cheeks burning.
“I-I’m fine,” he stuttered, avoiding Taehyung’s gaze. “Just… a little sore.”
Taehyung chuckled softly, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Should I help you wash up then?”
Jungkook’s eyes widened. He shot upright, nearly tangling in the sheets. “N-No! I can do it myself!” he blurted, his blush deepening to crimson.
Taehyung leaned closer, smirking. “Why so shy now? You weren’t this shy last night,” he teased, voice a little huskier.
Jungkook scowled and pouted. “I hate you,” he muttered, crossing his arms—though the corners of his mouth betrayed the ghost of a smile.
“Mm, sure you do,” Taehyung laughed, ruffling his hair. “Alright, now stop frowning and get washed—I’ll make you pancakes.”
He planted a sweet kiss on Jungkook’s temple before standing up and heading toward the door. Jungkook watched him leave, heart fluttering in the quiet space he left behind.
Once alone, Jungkook threw the blanket aside and slowly got out of bed. As soon as he stood up, a dull ache throbbed in his lower back, and he let out a soft hiss through his teeth.
“…Ouch.”
Waddling slightly, he made his way to the bathroom. The mirror above the sink greeted him with a familiar—but different—reflection. His eyes landed on the oversized t-shirt he was wearing, the fabric hanging loosely around his frame.
Taehyung’s shirt.
His gaze dropped, noticing few faint heat marks on his collarbone peeking out from the neckline. He blinked. His mind retraced the night—up until the moment exhaustion claimed him. He didn’t remember getting cleaned up. Or dressed.
A wave of warmth bloomed across his cheeks.
“Tae…he really cleaned me up after that?” he whispered to himself, eyes wide with shy disbelief.
He looked away quickly, hiding his face behind his hands as if the mirror might tease him too.
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Jungkook walked downstairs, the faint scent of maple syrup and butter wrapping around him like a warm blanket. He tugged at the hem of Taehyung’s oversized t-shirt that reached his thighs, cheeks still slightly flushed from earlier.
At the dining table, Jin, Jimin, and Yoongi sat slouched like they were recovering from a battlefield—not a party. Their eyes were half-closed, hair messy, and expressions blank. Hangovers had clearly hit them hard.
YOU ARE READING
MY WIFE
Romance* A beggar who got married to a mafia, who was also his high school best friend. the beggar aka jungkook was his second wife, the mafia was so dangerous , ruthless and cold , he had never shown any love to other . Will he change after his bunny en...
