When you walk in from class, the last thing you're expecting to see is the living room looking like a herd of elephants has tromped through it.
You gape at the space, where the couch has been shoved to the back wall, the cushions and pillows pulled off and scattered on the floor around it.
A tiny sliver of the coffee table peeks around the corner of the kitchen doorway, where empty water bottles are lying on the counter.
The worst part of it is the body lying still and limp in the middle of the cleared living room floor.
"Jungkook!" you cry in a sudden panic, dropping all of your things as you lunge for the prone figure on the floor.
What happened?!
Did someone rob the place?
Did they hurt your baby?
You collapse on your knees beside Jungkook, but your panic dissipates in seconds when he lifts his head and looks at you.
He's alive. Holy heck, he's okay.
"Noona?" asks Jungkook, watching you with surprise as you try to stop yourself from hyperventilating after the near panic attack you just went through.
You slap his shoulder. "What did you do to the living room? Why are you laying here?! I though you were hurt!"
Jungkook sits up, pouting slightly and rubbing the spot where you hit him. He's clad in a loose, flowy button-up shirt that's almost translucent, and a pair of jeans.
His socks are red and gold, with a small Iron Man character gracing the bottom.
He's sweating.
You didn't notice before, but glittering perspiration is coating his skin, saturating his fair skin with a glossy layer. His chest is heaving up and and down, like he's just run a marathon.
"Jungkook?" you ask in quiet confusion. "What the heck have you been doing? Why is my living room exploded?"
His lips spread over cute teeth in a big, sheepish grin that makes his eyes crinkle into tiny crescents. "Noona...Jimin hyung taught me something."
Oh crap.
Why? Just why? Why on this green earth does Jimin always find some way to disrupt your day ah almost make your heart burst in your chest?
How does he do it?
Immediately, you cross your arms over tour chest in a protective gesture. "Oh no. What did that maniac tell you this time?"
Hoping to his feet, Jungkook points to the television. A YouTube video is playing, of a Kpop boy band dancing a hard bit of choreography while clad in colorful jackets and ripped jeans.
"That," Jungkook says. "I can do that now. Watch."
He takes you by the arms and pushes you back to sit on the couch, safely out of range of any flailing limbs that come your way.
You have to admit, you're a tad bit nervous. Not because you're afraid of Jungkook hurting himself, or that he'll be unbearably bad at dancing; it's actually quite the opposite.
He's going to be good, so good, and you know it.
The fact that he's learning to use his body in that capacity makes him about thirty times hotter to you, and you didn't think he could get any hotter.
You're nervous not for Jungkook, but for yourself.
There's a high possibility that spontaneous combustion will take your life when he starts dancing.
Happy now that you're properly seated and watching with attentive eyes, Jungkook starts over the video and gets into position.
The music starts, and so does his body.
You choke.
The fact that in such a short amount of time he's learned so perfectly how to dance has you almost out of your mind. Each beat is hit perfectly on time, his body rolling with precision and jerking at the finale of each movement, his face rapt with passion and concentration.
As Jungkook, dances, he keeps his eyes locked on yours. With each elegant hand gesture, each roll of his body, the atmosphere in the room thickens between you. Each smooth roll his his shoulder, every flex of his muscular thighs, makes you go crazy.
At the chorus of the of the song, he keeps grasping at that freaking see-through shirt, giving you tantalizing glimpses of smooth skin and rock-hard muscle that you know only too well is as hot as it looks.
His lips are parted with effort, hard breathing pushing his chest in and out in huge heaves. They're red and swollen because he keeps biting them, raking his teeth over the full bottom one as he forces his body to rock and sway with the music.
You're on fire.
With ever move he makes, the heat in the room heightens to unbearable levels.
His sweat is soaking through his shirt, sticking it to his chest and outlining the broad measures of his shoulders, the narrow sweep of his hips.
With a flourish, he finishes the dance, on his knees as the billowing shirt flows one final time before settling loosely around the slim curve of his waist.
The room goes silent except for the rough pants of his breathing.
Your mind has completely stopped functioning, so when you speak, the worlds are hoarse and barely audible.
Channing Tatum who?
"That," you breathe, "-was quiet possibly the most attractive thing I've seen in my entire life."
Then you let your raging hormones loose, and attack him.
You dive on top of him, knocking him from his knees into his back, and smash your lips to his.
You don't let him talk.
You don't give him time to catch his breath.
Instead, you kiss the mess out of him, hoping that he can feel every ounce of torture he just provided for you through the caressing of your lips. You take out all that sexiness he just threw at you, and you throw it right back at him.
He laughs under your lips, like he knows exactly what's going on in your mind, and shifts you so you're settled more fully on top of him.
As you bury your fingers in the soft brown stands of Jungkook's hair and his hands slide up your sides, you make a note to thank your orange-haired friend later.
For once, Jimin actually taught Jungkook something good.
[A/N] Unedited Guys, I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated this book. My life has been pretty hectic, and I'm having writer's block on the next chapter of this story. I'm really sorry, but I'll work really hard on it and try to get it out soon. I hope this will soothe your appetite for a while 😊 Hope you enjoyed
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