You stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind you with a soft click, the weight of the day still lingering on your shoulders. The scent of warm skin and a faint trace of cologne hit you immediately—rich, masculine, unmistakably familiar.

There he was.

Jungkook lounged on the living room couch like it was a throne, shirtless, his sculpted chest and shoulders glistening with a light sheen of sweat. A single droplet slid down the curve of his neck, vanishing beneath the waistband of his low-slung black shorts. His damp hair was tousled, messy in a way that looked effortlessly intentional. The sound of the door had clearly caught his attention; he turned his head slowly, locking eyes with you. A smirk curled on his lips, cocky and inviting all at once.

“Well, well…” he drawled, voice smooth and low as he rose from the couch in one fluid motion. His steps were slow, deliberate, each one shrinking the space between you. He stopped just a breath away, his gaze dropping for the briefest moment before rising back to your eyes, gleaming with mischief. “What took ya so long, huh?”

He cocked his head slightly, as though genuinely curious—but the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

Damn, Jungkook thought, eyes shamelessly lingering. Devouring you without shame.

He let out a soft chuckle under his breath, running a hand through his wet hair, water droplets scattering lightly. “You missed a show, you know. Could’ve used a towel, maybe some help cooling down.” His voice trailed off playfully as he flexed one arm, not subtly at all. “I worked hard today. Can’t let these muscles go to waste.”

His fingers ghosted over his abs before resting on his hips, the playful arrogance in his stance making it impossible to ignore the way he deliberately showcased his physique.

Come on, he thought, watching you with amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Say something." He said teasingly. He leaned in just slightly, enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

“I missed my favorite roommate,” he added, lower this time—almost sincere. Then, with a smirk that completely undid the tenderness of his words, he reached behind you and gave your backside a playful swat before walking past you toward the kitchen, humming.

“Better not make a habit of being late,” he called over his shoulder. “I get bored too easily.”