TEMPTATION OF MY ARROGANT CEO JEON JUNGKOOK X READER

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Y/N wanted to bring her little sister to my place, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled. It’s not that I don’t like kids; I do, in a general sense. But this wasn’t just any kid—she was a miniature Y/N, with that same spark and mischievous streak. I reluctantly agreed, telling myself that surely it wouldn’t be that bad.

When Y/N and her sister arrived, I noticed the little one taking in my place with wide, curious eyes. "Are you hungry?" Y/N asked her. "Should we go to our room?"

I couldn’t help but offer, "She can get her own room if she wants." There was certainly plenty of space for her.

But the little girl replied with a polite, "No, thank you," yet her tone had a bit of sass. When Y/N explained that this was my house, she seemed skeptical, telling me it didn’t look like my place and even stuck her tongue out at me. I laughed despite myself; she was such a kid, with so much of Y/N’s fire. The memory made me smile, though I knew her defiance would be trouble.

My friend Carlos dropped by unexpectedly, and I could sense the tension in the air as soon as he greeted Y/N. They never got along, though for the life of me, I couldn’t quite understand why.

Carlos, ever the forward one, went straight to the point. "Is there any food? I'm starving."

Y/N shot back with, "Why don't you drop by the restaurant, then?" Her tone had that innocent edge, but I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely suggesting it or subtly jabbing at him.

Not wanting to get involved, I told Y/N to cook up something, which earned a quick rebuttal from her sister: "She isn’t a maid." That kid had no filter. I couldn’t help but smile at the way she stood up for her sister, though. It was admirable, really. Y/N and her sister went off to the kitchen, and I caught up with Carlos.

During dinner, things took an unexpected turn. Carlos suddenly started fanning his mouth, his face red as he downed a glass of water. Evie laughed in pure delight. I suspected immediately that she’d spiked his food with something spicy, and my suspicions were confirmed by her smug look. I shot her a disapproving glance, but I couldn’t help chuckling to myself, too. Watching Carlos squirm was funnier than I expected, but I reminded Evie that her prank wasn’t exactly how one treats guests. She just shrugged, unbothered.

Later that night, Y/N approached me, asking if we could bring back the household help. I’d noticed how hard she worked—balancing everything without complaint—but still, I brushed her off. As soon as I refused, her sister showed up, looking at me like I was the villain of her favorite fairy tale. "Is Y/N your maid?" she asked, her tone loaded with accusation. I sighed, knowing she wouldn’t understand. This kid acted like she was Y/N’s personal bodyguard, and as much as I appreciated her loyalty, I wasn’t in the mood for her sass.

Later, she invited me to join her and Y/N for a movie. Still feeling grumpy, I declined, but her expression softened just a bit. I could see the hurt flash in her eyes before she looked away. Guilt tugged at me, so I took a box of chocolates upstairs as a peace offering. She accepted it reluctantly, accusing me of trying to bribe her, though eventually, she gave in.

That night, as we all sat together, I realized how much I enjoyed these small moments. After the movie ended, I couldn’t take my eyes off Y/N. She was breathtaking. I had to fight the urge to reach out, to touch her. She’d probably slap me if she knew the thoughts I had sometimes, but I managed to keep my distance, whispering a soft goodnight instead.

Days later, when my mother invited us for dinner, Y/N looked stunning. She wasn’t dressed to impress anyone in particular, but I felt a quiet pride in having her by my side. As soon as we arrived, my mom started in on her, complaining about how skinny I’d gotten. Y/N stayed quiet, and I couldn’t help defending her. She might not have been a traditional wife, but she was mine.

"Mom, I’m married to Miss Park here; I don’t need anyone else," I said, meaning every word. It was the closest I’d come to confessing my true feelings.

After dinner, Mom pulled me aside, insisting that Y/N wasn’t good enough for me, blaming her for my old “reputation.” She didn’t understand—didn’t get that, in all the chaos and confusion, Y/N was the one I wanted.

Time passed, and my bond with Y/N’s sister grew. She was so sharp for her age, making suggestions about my work and offering insights with a confidence that surprised me. She became like a little ally, and even though she still had that edge, I grew to respect her.

One morning, I was looking forward to breakfast, only to find that Y/N hadn’t come downstairs. I stormed up to her room, intending to lecture her, but the sight of her curled up in bed, wincing in pain, silenced me. "You’re not fine," I muttered when she tried to play it off.

I gently offered her breakfast and even drew a warm bath for her. Watching her struggle with her cramps reminded me of how vulnerable she was, and I couldn’t stop myself from helping, even if she tried to wave me off.

The next few days, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. At the zoo, when we went on the roller coaster, her fear of heights resurfaced, and her terrified expression had me stifling laughter. She even called me “babe” in a moment of excitement, which nearly sent my heart racing out of control.

Our closeness grew, but so did our arguments. One evening, Carlos stopped by the house again, which didn’t sit well with Y/N. Tensions flared, and soon, we were shouting at each other. Then came Carlos’s accusation—a twisted lie that Y/N had been inappropriate with him. I wanted to believe her, yet his words nagged at me, and in my anger, I didn’t give her the benefit of the doubt.

The next morning, my guilt was eating away at me. I wanted to make it right, but Y/N’s expression told me how much I’d hurt her. I promised myself to make it up to her, to give her something to be happy about, so I put together a surprise, transforming a room in the house into a “princess” sanctuary for her sister.

The real breakthrough came when Carlos showed up yet again, forcing his way into our home. He started spewing insults, calling Y/N names. I wanted to punch him then and there, but Y/N was way ahead of me. She threw everything within reach, her anger fierce and unrestrained. Carlos finally left, but his lies and actions haunted me. I had to make it right.

“Y/N,” I began, feeling the weight of my words, “I’m sorry. I didn’t trust you, and I should have. I let you down.”

“You didn’t trust me, Jungkook,” she replied softly, the hurt in her voice cutting deep. Hearing her say my name like that shattered my heart, knowing how badly I’d failed her.

That evening, I went to Carlos’s place, determined to settle things once and for all. As soon as he opened the door, I hit him, every ounce of frustration pouring out. We exchanged blows, our friendship shattering alongside each strike. When I finally left, bruised and battered, I felt a strange sense of closure.

When I returned home, Y/N was waiting. She looked up at me, concern filling her gaze as she gently touched the bruises on my face.

“Oh my god, Jungkook,” she whispered, her voice filled with worry. “What did you do?”

“Carlos and I had a little chat,” I replied with a small smile.

She shook her head, exasperated, but I could see a glimmer of relief too. In that moment, I realized I’d do anything to keep her safe, to show her that I could be the man she needed. This time, I wouldn’t let her down.

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