BGR

The bedroom light is soft, casting warm shadows across the room as Jungkook stands before you, his work-roughened hands gentle as they cradle your face. You can still smell the faint trace of sawdust and sweat on his skin, a reminder of the long day he's put in at the construction site just to get home to you.

"Hey," he murmurs, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone. "You're nervous."

It's not a question. He knows you too well now, eight months of quiet dates and stolen kisses, of his patience never once wavering even when you'd pull away, even when you'd make excuses. He'd wait. He always waited.

You nod, unable to find your voice as you stand there, acutely aware of every inch of your body. The way your thighs press together, the soft curve of your belly beneath your shirt, the way you've always felt like you take up too much space.

Jungkook’s dark eyes hold yours, steady and sure. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"That you've been working all day," you whisper, reaching for his shirt, desperate to shift the focus. "You must be so tired. Let me—let me take care of you."

His lips quirk into that soft smile that makes your heart stutter. "Is that what you want? To take care of me?"

You nod eagerly, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt. He lets you pull it up, lets you reveal the hard plane of his chest, the tan skin dusted with a light sheen of sweat. He's beautiful. All lean muscle and strength built from honest labor.

"You're so good to me," you breathe, more to yourself than to him.

"Am I?" His hands settle on your hips, warm and grounding. "Because I've been thinking about this all day. About you. About finally getting to see all of you."

Your breath catches. Your fingers curl into his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin. "Jk, I'm—I'm not—"

"I know what you are." His voice dips lower, rougher, and his grip on your hips tightens just enough to make you feel it. "You're my girl. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And I've been patient, baby. So patient. But I need you to trust me now."

The words settle in your chest, warm and heavy. You want to trust him. God, you want to.

"Can I undress you?" he asks, and the request, the softness of it, undoes something inside you.

You nod.

His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he lifts it slowly. Deliberately. Like he's unwrapping something precious. The fabric slides up over your stomach, your ribs, and you have to fight the urge to cover yourself, to curl inward. But his eyes never leave yours, never drop to judge.

When the shirt clears your head, he folds it carefully, sets it aside, and finally lets his gaze travel down your body.

And what you see in his expression isn't disgust or disappointment. It's hunger. Pure, raw hunger.

"Look at you," he breathes. His hands come up to cup your sides, thumbs tracing the swell of your hips. "So fucking soft. So beautiful."

"Koo—"

"Let me touch you." It's not really a question this time. His hands slide around to your back, finding the clasp of your bra. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

You can't speak. You can only nod, and that's enough.

The bra falls away, and the air hits your skin, makes your nipples tighten. Jungkook’s breath hitches as he looks at you, bare before him, and his hands come up to cup your heavy breasts, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks.

"God," he rasps. "So full. So perfect. These are mine now, aren't they?"

You whimper, your hips shifting forward of their own accord. "Yes."

He squeezes gently, and the sensation shoots straight through you, pooling hot and heavy in your belly. "That's right. All of you is mine. And I'm going to take such good care of you."

His mouth finds yours then, deep and consuming, and his hands never stop moving. They slide down your sides, over the swell of your hips, gripping your ass with a possessiveness that makes you gasp against his lips.

"When I think about you," he says between kisses, "about how patient you've been, how sweet you've been, letting me court you for six whole months—I've wanted to ruin you, baby. I've wanted to take you apart piece by piece."

"Then do it," you breathe, and the words shock even you.

He pulls back, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide. "Say that again."

"Take me apart. I want you to."

Something shifts in his expression. The softness is still there, but now there's an edge to it, a control he's barely holding onto. He guides you backward until your knees hit the bed, until you're sinking into the mattress, looking up at him.

He follows you down, bracing himself above you, and the weight of his body, the heat of him, makes you feel small for the first time in your life.

"I'm going to go slow," he says, his lips brushing against your throat. "I'm going to kiss every inch of you, and I want you to feel it. Every. Single. Touch."

His mouth traces a path down your neck, over your collarbone, and when he takes your nipple into his mouth, you arch up with a sharp cry. He laves at it, sucks gently, and his hand finds the other, rolling the sensitive peak between his calloused fingers.

"So responsive," he murmurs against your skin. "So perfect for me. You have no idea what you do to me."

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him there as he worships your chest, alternating between soft licks and harder sucks that leave you gasping. His free hand slides down your stomach, over the curve of your belly, and you tense for just a moment.

He notices. Of course he notices.

"Don't," he says, lifting his head to meet your eyes. "Don't hide from me. Not now. Not ever."

"Koo... you work so hard, and I just... I want to make you feel good too."

A low sound rumbles in his chest. "You make me feel good just by letting me touch you. Just by being here, soft and beautiful and mine."

His hand continues its journey, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers sliding through the slick heat he finds there. He groans.

"So wet," he breathes. "Is this all for me?"

All you can do is nod, your hips bucking into his touch as his fingers find your clit, circling slowly.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and the praise washes over you like warm water. "My perfect, good girl. You've been waiting so long, haven't you? Let me take care of you now."

His fingers work you with expert precision, sliding lower to press inside you, one finger, then two, stretching you slowly while his thumb continues its assault on your clit. You're gasping, crying out, your nails raking down his back.

"That's it," he says, his voice strained. "Let go for me. I've got you."

And you do. The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, pulling you under, and Jungkook works you through it, his mouth finding yours to swallow your cries.

When you come back to yourself, he's kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your nose.

"Good," he whispers. "So good. But we're not done yet."

You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he strips off his pants, revealing his hard length, thick and ready. Your mouth waters.

"Let me—" you start, reaching for him.

He catches your wrist, presses a kiss to your palm. "Later. For our first time, I want to be inside you. I want to feel you around me. I want to please you.”

He settles between your thighs, and you can feel him against your entrance, hot and insistent. He pauses, meeting your eyes.

"Tell me you want this."

"I want this. I want you."

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you in the most delicious way. Your hands grip his shoulders, your breath coming in short gasps as he fills you completely.

"Fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to yours. "You feel... you're so tight. So perfect."

He stays there for a moment, letting you adjust, his hips pressed flush against yours, his body a warm weight above you.

"You can move," you whisper.

And he does. He rocks into you with slow, deep thrusts, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you, making you see stars. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing, pressing your palm into the mattress beside your head.

"Look at me," he commands softly, and you do. His eyes are locked on yours, vulnerable and fierce all at once. "You're doing so well. Taking me so beautifully. I could stay inside you forever."

Your hips rise to meet his, matching his rhythm, and the sounds you make are obscene, wet and slapping, mixed with your breathless moans and his guttural groans.

"Close," he warns. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside," you beg. "Please, Koo. I want to feel you."

His hips snap harder, faster, and he buries himself deep with a final, shuddering groan, spilling into you with a string of curses that sound like prayers.

He collapses against you, his face buried in your neck, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. Your arms wrap around him, holding him close, and you feel the stickiness between your thighs, the evidence of his desire, and for the first time in your life, you don't feel too big.

You feel perfect.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin. "Every inch of you. Don't ever doubt that."

Your eyes sting with tears. "I love you too."

He lifts his head, catching the tear that escapes with his thumb. "None of that. Only smiles. You're mine, and I'm yours, and we have all the time in the world to figure out how good this can be."

He kisses you softly, and when he pulls away, there's a playful glint in his eye.

"Now. About that mouth of yours..."

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